#raven cincaide works

[raven-cincaide]

Boyfriend! Megumi writes up every important date in his calendar, on his phone and on every other frequently-looked-at surface he can think of. He rates these days out of exclamation marks, where 3 (!!!) marks means they are days unforgivable to forget. Your birthday has six exclamation marks, and your anniversary has only four. 

Boyfriend! Megumi checks every class schedule, exam date and mission known to man the second it's published with his heart in his throat, just waiting to see which of those tedious ‘musts’  collide with the most important dates. He breathes a small sigh of relief every time when he is off on both your birthday and anniversary dates. 

Boyfriend! Megumi still feels bad whenever he is not around to celebrate the less important stuff. Like your perfect score on the exam or success in landing your part-time job. You reassure him that it’s okay and you’ll have your own mini-celebration when he returns from his mission. But still, seeing you celebrate these achievements with your parents and friends through posts on social media makes him feel inadequate. And he doesn’t know how to bring it up. 

Boyfriend! Megumi comes home later than usual after a mission, reeking of alcohol and eyes rimmed red. Then, he awkwardly shuffles in the dark living room, pacing, knocking things over and then returning to the pacing until he unwillingly wakes you up. He ignores you when you call out his name, so lost in his thoughts that you become worried for his well-being.

Boyfriend! Megumi snaps out of his daze as you touch him. His face is more expressive than usual, full of guilt and pain. The first thing past his lips is how he doesn’t deserve you, how he can’t be a good boyfriend, how you should be with someone who will always be there. 

Boyfriend! Megumi crumbles in your arms when you reassure him that he is more than enough. It doesn’t matter if he isn’t there for some important days; it’s natural. You’re both adults with your own schedules, and it’s bound to happen. But the important thing is that you make up for those lost days with every other moment you get together. 

Boyfriend! Megumi denies ever crying, being upset or mushy over anything, even as his bright red ears give him away. You tease him further and the sharp shut up has no heat behind it. Especially not when he feeds you breakfast in bed.

Boyfriend! Megumi still feels guilty for missing your important date, but he’s determined to make up for it. Princess treatment and corny date to your favourite animal cafe. You’re putting up with his shit, after all, so he’ll go just slightly overboard to make sure you know you’re his precious girl. 

[miss-cincaide]

The pink, the blue or the red 

Summary: You can’t decide on a piece of lingerie for your upcoming date. So what do you do? Ask your best friend for help of course. After all you don't think he'll care. And you especially don't expect this to be the beginning of your 'friends with benifits' situation..  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Megumi Fushuguro (aged up!) Kinktober prompt 2: Lingerie  WC ~1.7K. Warnings: Unprotected sex (P in V), pulling out, cum, light dirty talk, becoming friends with benefits, 

“ I can’t decide!” You huffed from the cracked opened door to your bedroom. Your back pressed against the door, your face angled through the crack and stared down at Megumi sitting cross-legged on your couch, the bunch of homework and course books spread out all over your coffee table. “I don’t know if the blue one is better than the red one, but the red one feels too desperate so maybe the pink one?” 

There was an unmistakable pause, a silence then, an “Are you asking me to look at your underwear before your date?” Megumi’s tone held a hint of disbelief in it and you couldn’t help yourself by correcting his choice of words: “Lingerie.”

It didn’t help; Megumi sighed in exasperation. 

The kind of sound that clearly said you were acting stupid for one, and two, he was about to group you in the same category as Itadori. “ I don’t know. Ask Nobara” 

You let out a low whine, a quiet stomp of your foot against the carpeted floor “ I did. And Nobara said that ‘guys only care about tits and a hole’ so it didn’t matter which one. Then I asked Yuji and it became a whole discussion about why I should care about the color of my lingerie if it’s anyway covered by clothes and IF things go that way, it will most probably be dark so the color won’t matter anyway.”

You heard Megumi mutter something under his breath and proceeded to amp up the begging with your most pitiful puppy dog voice “Please ‘Gumi. You’re my only hope for honest to god feedback.” 

Another long pause, you were about to start bribing him, before he sighed and dropped back against the couch. “Fine.” 

Megumi didn’t sound happy, but you didn’t care as you let out a glee of joy and stepped out of your bedroom. A silky kimono with lace details which matched the lingerie set, thrown over and tied up on your hip, showing off just the very edge of the matching set underneath. 

“So I thought of something like this” You stood in front of Megumi and did a little twirl showing off the kimono that followed the line of your body. Megumi remained frustratingly impassive, his every expression carefully schooled. He wasn’t giving you anything; did he like it? Hate it? Find this bothersome? Find you bothersome? “Come on, Gumi say something” 

“You’re planning to go out to a bar like that?” His eyes ran you up and down, followed the outline of the kimono and then flickered back up to your face, his eyes never lingered. “Doubt it. Stuffing it in a bag to take with will make it look wrinkly and cheap.”  

“It wasn’t cheap” you pouted, then as the penny dropped you realized it was your cue to take it off. Seduce him if you will. You moved to undo the belt, your fingers scrambled to untie the death-knot on your hip. You hadn’t actually thought things would go this far. 

“And that’s another issue,” Megumi pointed out. You could practically hear how he rolled  his eyes. “ When are you going to learn how to tie things up in a single bow?” 

“ But they untie themselves!” 

“That’s what you want from them. Especially in this situation.” 

You didn’t bother to reply, banter-scolding a familiar routine at this point. You’d say there was nothing less sexy than to have to stop and retie the bow, Megumi would point out that at the speed you were going, you’d be ancient by the time you got it untied. “Aha!” you grinned before he could say another word as your nail finally caught the inner loop and you slowly tugged the silky belt free. 

The kimono soon followed, first opened up, then slid off your shoulders to the floor. All you were left in was a half-sheer dark blue set embezzled with small white gems. The bra worked hard to push your girls up, the lace which started just above your nipples giving a small hint of modesty. The lacy skimpy Brazilians did the opposite. 

“What do you think?” You asked, then did a slow twirl to show it off from every angle. When you turned back around to face Megumi, his eyes were firmly planted on the floor at your feet. You bit back the twitch of disappointment in your heart. 

“It looks good.” His voice sounded tense like he uttered it through gritted teeth. 

“You’re not even looking!” You moved to stand closer to him, hearing the unmistakable hitch of breath. “Does it look bad? It looks bad, right? Tell me truly and honestly so I know” 

“You want a true and honest opinion?” You nodded quickly. Megumi didn’t look up at you as he slowly moved to stand up off the couch. He was close, towered over you, definitely aware of you. You smiled a little to yourself and began doing another demonstrative twirl. He stopped you halfway with a firm grip on your arm. “You wanna know what I think? I think you’re doing this on purpose.” 

You gasped as he pushed you forward, and bent you over, your stomach made contact with the side of the couch, one hand braced over the back, the other caught yourself on the armrest.

“I think you’re doing this to rile me up and it’s working” Megumi pushed his hips forward, flush against the soft curve of your ass. His cock was unmistakably hard in his pants. He rolled his hips, and made you feel every inch of him. 

Big. Hard. Needy.    

You trembled. A pathetic whimper left you. 

“You don’t really care about those dates or men. We both know you’re going to go there, have a few drinks, then run away when things get serious.” Another roll of his hips, this time sliding himself between your ass cheeks. “ If you want something, be a big girl and say it.” 

“Don’t stop” you whimpered moving your hips in line with his. He does exactly as you asked, but not a touch more. You're ground against him, desperate for more friction, more touch, more of that delicious cock which so perfectly ground against you, scratching you with the lace of your panties and the shift of his jeans. Outlined but hidden, leaving the rest to imagination. Fuck it was torture. “Or.. you know… keep going, just don’t stop” 

Megumi took a step back from you. “On the couch. Now.” 

You scramble to shift your body over the armrest and into one of the soft cushions. Back against the couch, soles of your feet on the edge of the pillow, knees loosely to your chest. Megumi joins you a moment later, pushing up your knees closer and out of the way. He didn’t bother slipping your panties off, just pushed the damp skimpy thing to the side before thrusting right in. 

“Ah-heh..mm, What about foreplay?” Your hands wrap around his neck keeping him close and steady, there to see his every expression, so close you can hear him swallow, groan and curse as your pussy took him. 

“What about it?” Megumi raises an eyebrow, his hand reached out and brushed a sweat drop off your face. Then trailed trails down your neck, lingered at your bouncing tits then lower, down to your clit. “You’re saying you can be wetter than this?” 

 His fingers touch you; you moan, arching you back. Closer, away, you don’t know anymore. You feel him push your legs even closer to your chest, his thrusts growing rapidly. You realized he was bullying you; with his words, with his fingers and with his fucking cock that felt ten times better than you could have ever imagined. “Y-you’re mean, Megumi” 

“Am I now?” He picked up his pace, rolled his hips and you were coming, dripping, soaking him wet. You were moaning, gasping, cursing or was it him? Another scream and he was gone. Your pussy clenched over nothing.

 Empty.

 You’re whined, your hips thrusting empty air in desperation.

 “Fuckkk”  He was coming, gasping, painting your stomach and tits white with the hot thick cum. 

His sweaty head dropped down to your shoulder, and your nails let go of his back. 

The reality came crashing down on you like a sobering weight; You just had sex with Megumi.  You just fucked your best friend. And you didn't know what it meant, were you now migrating to friends-with-benifits? Something more? Something-

“Did.. did Yuji see the lingerie?” There was an unmistakable twitch of jealousy in his voice and a tone that demanded an honest answer out of you. 

You didn't quite know how to interpret it. You answered him either way. “Kinda? I showed him the pictures of them but not on me”

Megumi growled, his hand on your knee tightened slightly before he let you go. He moved off you, flopping down onto the couch beside you. “Then I need to see the other two before I can give you my honest opinion” 

Your face flushed, your brain short circuited. Your body moved seemingly on its own, awkwardly scrambled out of the couch and with shaky legs began carrying you back to your room. 

If this was what happened with the most innocent, blue set, you couldn't wait until he laid his eyes on the lacy pink one, or barely there red one…

Author note: I have to say I am not sure how I feel about this fic. I love the Megumi in this and I do kinda wanna write more Friends-With-Benifits scenarios. What do you think? Anything you'd wanna read?

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All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[ravencincaide]

Shhh -oh shit

Summary: You were not the kindest when someone disturbed you; especially when studying for finals. Or the time you shushed a talking bastard in the library's quiet section, not realizing who said ‘bastard’ was. 

Pairing: Student!reader x Chuuya Nakahara. 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 29: Texting/email 

Warnings: Cursing, random Chuuya fluff, minimal edits

Enjoy this little bit of sweetness~ 

Shh

You couldn’t understand how ignorant one had to be in order to speak on the phone in the library. How completely self absorbed to dare do it in the quiet section. Especially amidst final weeks- when it was crawling full of crying and desperate students who queued from the library's opening to the very last second before its closing. Studying reference literature, begging librarians to expedite archive requests just a little bit faster. Buying seniors notes and pleading for tutoring sessions.

“ If this is another goddamn attempt at wasting my time with your bloody stupidity….” the male voice carried loudly, cutting through the otherwise silent section of the library but for the gentle tipp-tapp of keyboard keys or barely hearable flickering of pages. In contrast to those monotone sounds, his voice boomed like thunder, completely breaking your concentration. With each syllable past his lips you could feel your understanding slipping away. 

Why no one said anything was beyond you. 

It was so bluntly obvious that this man was disturbing everyone in the surrounding area. Yet either he was oblivious enough not to see it, or self centered enough not to care. Neither of which sat well with you. As if to make matters worse, his voice grew louder and louder as he drew nearer, now it was not only the phone conversation that was disturbing you, but also the stomps of his feet against the carpet clad floor. “I’ll have you die.. I–” 

“ Shh!” you snapped, making a low, angry hiss towards the owner of the voice somewhere in the distance behind you. You saw the head of a student opposite you snap up and give you a quick, earnest grateful smile. However, that smile quickly faded as the student paled a sickly shade of white before he quickly snapped his head back down, staring at the study books in front of him. His reaction puzzled you, but the blessed silence made you ignore that fact in favour of your studies. 

However the peaceful silence did not last long. 

“ Goddamn it! I swear I’m going to kill you myself this time, you good for nothing, perverted, enemy of all—” 

Slamming your fist into the table you finally lost your patience, your voice, the ‘shh’ resonating through the area. An angry echo which bounced off the walls and furniture throughout the entire second floor of the library’s silent section; “Its a goddamn library so for crying out loud, can you shut the fuck— oh shit” you cut yourself off as your eyes landed on the man with the phone pressed to his ear. 

It was him; it couldn’t be- shouldn’t be, and yet it was. 

You would recognize that ginger hair and black coat anywhere. The piercing eyes which searched the sea of students before they landed onto you, and stared you down mockingly. The cocky grin which matched the handsome boyish expression. And that top hat, the most memorable goddamn top hat in the entire Yokohama. You had seen that hat, and the man it belonged to, in wanted posters and news segments all over Yokohama city. 

The long and loud media warnings to never engage or provoke him. The most dangerous and bloodthirsty member of Port Mafia; Nakahara Chuuya. 

And you had not only encountered him in the most mundane place in the entire city; but also shushed him; not once, not twice but an entire three times. That is without the curse-filled scolding you unknowingly send his way for his less than adequate library manners. In other words you were a deadman walking; a soon to be corpse which currently filled the barely-comfortable study spot. Judging by the annoyance edged onto his features, it was time for you to say your goodbyes and start digging your grave. Then again, your mind reminded you all too bitterly, if you failed the upcoming exams the humiliation, loss of income and homelessness you’d face, would make you wish you were dead. 

Instead of feigning ignorance or getting up and apologizing on your hands and knees, you stared back into his face with a scowl that matched his own. It was as if you challenged him to say something. Chuuya responded with a raised eyebrow. In that instant, your mind flickered between the ‘you’re gonna be brutally murdered or worse’ and ‘ holy hell the media did not do those gorgeous blue orbs justice.’ A part of you still couldn’t grasp the fact that you were actually seeing those eyes in real life. 

You were so, so fucked. 

That sentiment was reinforced as you saw the frown on his lips turn up into something almost morbid. Chuuya’s eyes ran up and down before he rolled his eyes as the voice in the phone demanded his attention, growing so loud you could almost distinguish what it was saying from such a distance; “ I’ll get back to you, slimeball” Chuuya stated midway through slamming the phone shut and slipping it into his pants pocket.

Then he advanced towards you.

You swallowed thickly, and fixed the ginger with an even firmer stare. Then you summoned what little bravery- or insanity- you had left in you; “ Listen with all due respect Nakahara-san your future is set for life; glory, terror and all that. While us pitiful students have our lives decided by the horrors of exams which are primarily out of our control so I kindly beg you, for the love of god and anything unholy; please be quiet.” 

Chuuya stopped in front of you; an unreadable expression on his face half shaded by the tophat.You swore he looked less menacing and more entertained than moments earlier- or was it your wishful thinking? No, there definitely was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of them; “ Whatever, fork over your phone” 

“My phone?” you asked in bewildered as you stared up at the man currently towering over you. 

At another glare, you quickly unlocked and surrendered the device to him. You watched him type something in before handing it back to you. Looking down at it, you noticed there was a new contact added in your list, listed under the simple initials NC. You glanced back up at him in question. 

The angry look was replaced by a boyish grin. To you it looked almost.. Flirty?!

 Chuuya pointed towards your phone with a gloved finger; “ I wanna know what kind of exams are scarier than a Mafia executive. Text this number when you’re done.”

Your eyes widened a little before you shook your head slightly. Your brain not able to comprehend what he was saying, your mind blanking out long enough for your mouth to speak before you had time to think; “ If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were hitting on me” you mumbled in disbelief earning yourself another cocky smirk. He really was?! 

 “ Nakahara-san I don’t think it’s–” 

“Shhh”  you heard another student hiss at you making you instantly grow silent. Before biting your lips in a feeble attempt to keep your expression neutral. You failed; the edges of your lips pulled up into a smile, barely containing the bubbly laughter readying to spill past your lips. Your expression remained  bewildered and a little shocked, while his expression remained cocky almost sweet yet so very confident. 

Who knew such a meeting could derive from a single word; a hissing of an annoyed student in the middle of the exam season in the libraries quiet section:  

Shh.

Author note: A little sweetness is what we all need some days. I hope this fic made you smile at least a little on this (very cold!) Sunday morning.

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[raven-cincaide-words]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴/𝓱𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼

When writers take a break because something happens- you lose a friend, burn out from writing or spend three months obsessively creating a master thesis on naked activism to the point you can’t stand seeing another dick or titty- the absence is talked about a lot. Including a ton of support. So WE see tons of posts about writers and artists deactivating, leaving, or disappearing because of one thing or another. But, what we rarely talk about is the ‘coming back’ part. 

Especially if you’ve grown a bit of a following in the months you’ve been gone, and suddenly you log in and see all the people who adore your stuff and can’t wait to see more of your work, and who are so freaking overjoyed you’re online it’s surreal, it’s amazing. Really. But it’s also pressure. It’s pressure from them and pressure you put on yourself to come back as if nothing happened and continue writing as if you hadn’t just torn up all your art and shut down the draft folder in frustration seemingly for good. 

To come back as if nothing happened and write to the same style, tempo, interests as you did before your hiatus, break or pause. 

But the fact of the matter is, whether it’s a week, a month or years, you’re no longer the same person you were when you were creating every waking moment of every day. Maybe you’re like me and feel rusty. The scenes are there but the words don’t flow. Or it’s like you’re stuck in a permanent writer's block staring at white pages and blank google docs. You want to write but nothing comes out, So you’re suddenly staring at quotes and guides to get out of writers block; maybe even prompts or your old works wondering how the fuck did you write this in the first place. It seems amazing in comparison to the kiddy text you’re struggling with now. 

You remember writing as ‘easy’ and ‘fun’ and now it’s not. It’s hard and painful and far from ‘fun’. So what can you do? I don’t have an answer or a magic solution but I can share what I do to make ‘coming back’ flow smoother and be less awkward for all parties involved. 

Be prepared that everything WILL take more time than it did before. If you could churn out a chapter draft a night; give yourself a week for writing and a week to read through it, at least. Keep that in mind when you set up goals (because you should have goals!) so you don’t get disappointed because you’re too ambitious, don’t meet them, and thus end up just giving up instead. Slow and steady wins the race- or wins getting back into shape.

If you feel pressure from your followers/readers/Beta readers, keep an honest and open communication. Explain that you’re still not fully back but may be around more than before- or not. Your choice.  

To take a little bit of pressure off- create a new account. Either with a similar username or a completely new one and just have fun with it, try different things, post, edit just to feel like writing/blogging/whatever you do again. A little like colouring outside the lines without knowing what it will be; if you like it, yaay, and if you hate it you can just tear out the page without ruining the rest of your pictures. At the same time giving you a chance to get back into routine, style, feel and interest of writing. 

Stay away from things that make you feel like you’re in a box; try new styles, new art, new prompts. For the time, move away from your usual settings, or usual pairings. Quite frankly, don’t even think about characters for the time being!  

But for the sake of everything holy, stay away from guides and ‘how to get out writing blocks texts’.  No, they aren’t for you, not at this stage at least. Instead focus on figuring out what- if anything- you find fun. What peaks your curiosity? What makes your creativity flow? 

As a writer I stay away from scenes or very rigid prompts. Such as A takes B out on a date. Even if it can feel like the easiest approach to getting back into writing- after all most of the work is done for you already, right? Wrong. For me that is very much putting writing into a box rather than having me explore. Instead I work with short- often one word- prompts. For example I am currently working with: Back to the basics. Here is how I approach it: 

First I look at the word, for example ‘rejection’. For me, when I write something with rejection it is almost always angst or hurt comfort. So first thing is that I define, for myself ‘what rejection means’; is it rejection of someone, rejection of something, is it from the perspective of the rejector or the rejected? Why is it important/why should we care about someone- or thing being rejected? What importance does it have and how do I convey that importance? Do I have an idea here or should I work more with the word? Maybe a synonym or antonym?

Then I start playing around with it. Okay so if rejection is always angst- can I make it the opposite, for example happiness? Can it be a happy ‘rejection’ why?/why not? Who would be happy to be rejected? (For example in an arranged marriage when one part is in love with someone else? Or maybe being rejected is the push a character needs to make a difficult decision such as move away, commit a crime, etc?)  At this point I start trying to gather my thoughts a little with; Who? What? Where? When and Why? While still circling around the word. 

Then after I’ve played around I usually have some kind of storyline or idea. No matter how rough, can be just answers to the questions above. No biggy. Then it’s time for a sprint. So I sit down and type it; usually set a 20 min timer, no distractions and type every single word that comes to mind. No edits at this point- not even spell check- just pure word vomit. 

Do I have energy for another sprint? IF yes- keep going. IF no, then I start going over the words and beating them into shape. Is it a silly fic? Which barely makes sense? Perfect, post it!

Leave it out there on your new account. Come back to it, maybe write another chapter of it, or just laugh that it exists. Then repeat it again if you feel your anxiety spike. After a while writing will stop feeling daunting- the pressure won’t be so suffocating anymore. And then it really will feel like you’re actually back. 

Liked this advice and want to see more? Check out my profile below! Main| About Raven | Beta & Rules |Prompts | Masterlist | Tags & links|

All fics and beta work are unique works by © raven-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[nobedofroses]

October 19th

pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

warnings: hurt/comfort, nightmares

words: 617

a/n: Prompt for today is Nightmares from this list by @raven-cincaide-words. Din has nightmares after he thinks you and Grogu have gone missing. You comfort him, v soft

Directory, previous Din blurb, Day 18

🎃🎃🎃

Whenever something happened with a bounty that was particularly stressful, or when something put Grogu and you in danger in some way, or even perceived danger, Din was prone to nightmares. He kept such a tight hold on himself and especially his “negative” emotions like worry and fear during the day that most of the time they only had an outlet at night when he was asleep and couldn’t control them. 

Before you had realized that, the nightmares had surprised and then worried you. But after you figured out why he was having them, you encouraged him to find ways to express his fears and worries and be vulnerable when he was awake. Usually something as small as talking through something or spending time with you and Grogu to be able to see and feel that you were safe was enough. But sometimes the deep-rooted fears of loss and abandonment would still show themselves in his dreams. 

That’s why you weren’t surprised when you woke up in the middle of the night after the maze debacle to Din’s unconscious movements and words of worry. 

Through trial and error, you had learned that Din could sometimes be dangerous even in his sleep. It was so ingrained in his subconscious to be ready at any moment for an attack, to always be on the defensive, that he could think that you were a threat before he woke up. Especially if he was already having a nightmare.  

So you spoke his name first. Since so few people knew his name, it worked to set him at ease, especially hearing it in your voice, “Din. Din, honey, can you wake up? You’re having a nightmare. Din, it’s me.” 

He started to stir, his head turning toward you and you could see the frown on his face. You kept going, telling him sweet nothings as you saw his face begin to relax and his movements slow down until he was blinking his eyes open to look at you. 

“Hi,” you said, moving in close to be able to touch and comfort him now that he knew that you were you and not a threat. You pulled him close and Din tucked his face into your neck while you ran your fingers through his hair and told him, “It was a dream that’s over now.” 

You stayed like that a long time, listening to Din’s breathing get a little harder as he spent a few tears and then slowly even out again as he calmed down. 

“It was about the maze. This time you and Grogu weren’t okay,” Din said into your skin and you nodded, that made sense. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t think about contacting you, sweetheart” you told him. 

Din scoffed, lifting his head to look at you, “I should have set up something already.” 

“Well, at least the time we figured out we needed it nothing bad happened. Now we’ll be prepared for sure,” you pointed out and Din nodded. You leaned in and kissed him, just quick and soft. 

“Do you want to try and go back to sleep or talk for a while or do something else?” You asked and Din opened his mouth to talk but you had another idea, “Or, we could talk for a while and then do something else, and then try going to sleep, how about that?” 

Din smiled, “You seem pretty eager about this ‘something else.’” 

“Always eager for you,” you told him with a solemn nod. If it were lighter in your bunk you’re sure you would’ve seen a pink blush on his cheeks. 

“I like the last option,” Din said after a second. 

You smiled, “Yeah, let’s do that one.”

🎃🎃🎃

[bloodycotton]

Day ten and I'm collapsing, but hell's kitchen and Gordon Ramsay yelling "Fucking donkey" is making me keeping it together

Prompts by: @raven-cincaide-words

(English is NOT my first language)

Day 10.- Little Touches

Comte de Reynaud (Chocolat, 2000) x Fem!reader

Part 1 - Part 2

He wanted her, he couldn't deny it, even if he did it every day. 

The Comte fought with himself to take that half-orange from your hands, he thought of how juicy, sweet and refreshing she could be on his lips, but the very thought made him recoil. 

Of course, he wanted her, he wanted that smile, he wanted more of that soft voice, he wanted all her sweetness. But he was a man of the Church, he had responsibilities, responsibilities that the young woman in front of him seemed to question every time she opened her mouth.

You shook the fruit again at her refusal. "Don't deny yourself the pleasure of a good fruit, eating is not a sin."

Slowly, without even realizing it, he took the half orange carefully, his fingers lightly touched the young woman's hand, her skin warm from the work. 

The Comte's skin tingled every time he touched yours, it made him feel like a young boy again, and he was always nervous in her presence, his shoulders stiff and his back straight.

You never lost your smile not even for a second, looking at him with sharp, almost piercing eyes that bared his soul, he felt he was vulnerable under those eyes that seemed to see right through him, feeling naked and exposed. 

Each of your gazes felt like a touch, sliding over his skin like a slow caress, and with each one he was tempted to abandon everything, his morals, his reputation, even his faith. 

When the Comte hesitantly took the fruit into his mouth, his teeth sank into the orange pulp and the juice filled his mouth with an acidic sweetness that awakened his senses in a way he had been denying and depriving himself for a long time. 

He hadn't even realised when he had closed his eyes, but when he finally opened them, he found himself looking at you, your smile lighting up your face. It was as if you had been enjoying that moment too, silently sharing his joy. 

But as the pleasure of the sweet taste of the fruit faded, guilt washed over him, each bite feeling like an act of betrayal, a sin that took him away from the righteous life he had lived.

That night, as the moon lit up the village, the Comte found himself in the church, the candles flickering in the gloom, barely illuminating the statue of Christ to which he prayed. He knelt, his hands clasped in supplication. "God," he murmured, his voice trembling, looking up, "Give me the strength to resist these temptations. She... She makes me weak."

He closed his eyes, fighting the desire you had unleashed in him. In his mind, the image of your face and your laughter intertwined with the sweetness of the fruit, and he felt like he was losing control he so diligently worked for. "Help me to stand firm," he pleaded, "not to be seduced by what I can't have."

He couldn't let himself be carried away by her, by her sweetness, or by her little touches that made him lose his way. 

[by-speaker]

Colleagues (ENG. VER.)

Prompts by @raven-cincaide-words

When you work for death you don't have many colleagues, in fact you don't have colleagues at all. Missa was used to travelling between dimensions, it was a dark and lonely place, the only light coming from the souls and the light from the portals. 

So you can understand the reaper's surprise when a man with wings followed by a flock of crows crossed one of the portals. The man was blond, with cold blue eyes wrapped in a green yakuta and a green bucket hat with white stripes. 

Missa froze at the end of the corridor, watching curiously as this man, this mortal looked around, this was strange, very strange. He was a stranger in the world of the non-living. 

Philza froze, he had never seen such a beautiful being, his black hair was dark, it almost looked like a void, as if it was the blackest black created by man. His eyes were purple, but they seemed to contain galaxies, they were so captivating that Phil could swear they moved like a portable galaxy. The man was ethereal and beautiful. 

‘Who are you?’ Death said, pointing his scythe at the man, ‘What are you doing here, mortal?’ 

Philza lowered the scythe with his fingertips, ‘I am Philza, Philza Minecraft, the Angel of Death.’ 

Missa was very surprised, she didn't know her boss had found an angel, but he wasn't surprised she hadn't mentioned it, they were both a bit scatterbrained and their conversations didn't always make sense. 

‘Ah, very well,’ Missa said trying to think what to do with the immortal in her realm, ’The lady sent you?’ 

‘Yes.’ 

‘How nice…’ 

They were both silent, both standing in the dark not quite sure what to do, until a crow broke through the silence. 

‘Missa!’ The voice of the goddess came from the crow, ‘I forgot to tell you, I need you to train Phil to help you in your work in the dimensions I live in, I want to take some of the workload off of you. Thank you, I love you both, bye — bye.’ 

 They both looked at each other, trying not to laugh at the goddess's carelessness, in the end succumbing to laughter. 

Missa gave a small mouse to the crow that had delivered the message, as a silent ‘thank you’ to the corvid. And then he motioned for Phil to follow him. 

‘Well,’ said death reaching for his next soul, ’if you're going to work with me let's start with the basics, first we'll go to a multiplayer world to take a soul, then I'll teach you how to return it to its body if the server allows it, if not let's transfer it to the soul bank, got it?’ 

Philza nodded, mentally taking note of everything, though he was still processing that he would be working side by side with someone as peculiar as Missa. He had imagined the realm of death as a place full of solemn secrets and prohibitions, but it seemed that, at least with Missa, everything was much more… every day. And that made it all the more intriguing.

‘So… a soul bank,’ Philza murmured, smirking. ‘Sounds like something pretty serious.’

Missa looked at him with a mixture of amusement and some pride. ‘It's an efficient system. We have souls from all dimensions, and when one needs to return, it's searched the bank and given access back.’ He paused, shooting her a quick glance. ‘Don't think you can touch it yet. That takes a lot of practice.’

‘Got it, boss,’ Philza replied with a playful grin, following him into the shadows.

Missa led him through a vast dark space, the floor beneath his feet looked like polished ebony, and occasionally, small lights-perhaps souls-crossed the space, twinkling like shooting stars. Philza felt strangely comfortable, as if this alien and sinister world was no longer so intimidating now that he had Missa as his guide.

‘First, let's practice on a simple world,’ Missa explained as they approached a portal that glowed with a silvery hue. ‘It's a peaceful server, but there are still accidents. So, every now and then, we pick up some clueless soul.’

Philza nodded. ‘Sounds perfect. And you… Have you always done this alone?’

The question made Missa look at him with a softer expression. ‘Yes, for the most part. Sometimes the goddess comes along and helps, but… it's a lonely job. I guess I'm used to not having colleagues.’ He shrugged, as if that was simply part of his existence.

Philza nodded silently, feeling an unexpected empathy for Missa's loneliness. ‘Well,’ he said, smiling as she prepared to step through the portal, ’I guess you have a colleague now.’

The two shared a knowing smile before darkness enveloped them and their first training in the strange and mysterious world of mortals and souls began.

[saywhatjessie]

I am so mixed up (that I cannot tell you)

Advent Calendar Day 13! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Christmas Cleaning | Enemies to Lovers | Kisses Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie 2k[Ao3]

“How the fuck did you get so much of your shit into my house without me noticing?”

“It ain’t your fault! Your eyesight’s gone all funny with age. You can’t be expected to see shit more than 3 inches from your face.”

Roy growled and Jamie winked back. 

Roy had been volunteered by his sister to host his family for the holidays. It was fine: he had the biggest house and guest rooms that could hold his parents for the week of Hanukkah as well as Ruth and Phoebe if they wanted to stay over any of the nights. He was also the best cook and absolutely refused to make latkes in the Little Tikes playset Ruth called a kitchen. So he’d agreed, figuring he could get some plastic to protect his kitchen from oil splatters and just tidy up the living spaces for his family to gather.

He had not realized how much of the surface area in those living spaces was filled with Jamie’s shit.

“When did you even wear this?” Roy asked, holding up bright pin track pants, disgusted. “Why are they here?”

“Wore that when I pulled your bike!” Jamie told him, brightly. He snatched the trackies out of Roy’s hand and shoved them in a giant laundry bag he’d had in his car. “Have you not seen the fan photos? I look well fit. You look like a belland.”

Roy growled, kicking pairs of Jamie’s shoes away from the door.

He supposed that helped explain it. Many times after their early morning training sessions, Roy would let Jamie shower at his place before they headed in to Nelson Road. And also he would come over after training to eat before late night training.

But that still didn’t explain why Jamie had left things here.

“How many bum bags do you have?” Roy asked, incredulous, yanking about three out from between the couch cushions. ”Is there anything even in them? How do you just forget them here?”

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for this one!” Jamie said, excitedly relieving Roy of a bright silver thing. “Well flash, innit?”

“It’s ugly as shit,” Roy told him. “And still doesn’t explain why it’s here.”

Jamie snorted. “I lost this one over a month ago, mate. Maybe start asking yourself why you never clean your place.”

Roy growled again and Jamie rolled his eyes, heading up the stairs.

Roy rumbled quietly to himself. Little prick. Roy cleaned his fucking house.

He went into the kitchen to check the damage on that. He knew his kitchen was absolutely clean – he used it every day – he just wanted to make sure he moved any clutter off the counters so it didn’t catch any stray grease. Hanukkah was the oiliest holiday of the year: thank you Maccabees. 

The kitchen was just how he left it. The stove was clean, the dishes were clean and put away, the floors were swept and at least surface cleaned. He had drawings Phoebe had done hung up on the fridge. Roy sighed in relief: this space, at least, was free of Jamie Tartt.

He started carefully removing the things from the fridge, knowing that those oil droplets could fly and not wanting to ruin any of Phoebe’s work. He took down a couple drawings, photos, Phoebe’s participation ribbon for children’s pole vaulting or whatever. He smiled at them, fondly, as he removed them and gently slid them into an envelope that he’d store safely away in his office until his kitchen could be deep cleaned. 

Then he hit non-Phoebe stuff he’d forgotten he’d put up there. Training schedule. Dietary list. Match calendar. He couldn’t remember why he’d hung those up – it made sense for him to think about these things as a coach but why were they in his kitchen?

And then he saw the ‘Good Boy’ tracker with little golden stars on it and he remembered. Of course. Of course these were for FUCKING Jamie.

The Good Boy tracker was actually a work of genius: nothing made Jamie work harder than the promise of a gold star. He could run that extra kilometer, do a hundred more burpees, and make that fiftieth crossbar kick if Roy promised him a little gold star by the finish. He couldn’t help but smile seeing all the stars proudly stuck to it. It was a nice reminder of how far they’d come.

The calendar and schedule were old so Roy just threw those away. But the dietary list and gold stars went into the envelope. He couldn’t help being a good coach, now, could he?

He moved onto counters once the fridge was clear and was again relieved by the familiarity of it. Roy’s cookbooks got stored in his office with the envelope, his jar of utensils got put in a cabinet, jars of flour and sugar got put in the cabinet as well as the ENTIRE spice rack. 

He hesitated over the salt and pepper shakers. They were little black greyhounds, bought for him for secret santa sometime in the last few years. He loved them so much, he couldn’t stand to put them away. He figured they would be easy enough to clean later.

Roy had just finished stowing everything away and gave the counter one last wipedown when Jamie came into the kitchen hauling his overstuffed laundry bag. He let out a low whistle.

“Fuck, it looks so empty in here.” He noted, frowning at the naked fridge. “What did Phoebe do to piss you off?”

Roy rolled his eyes, turning to wipe down the cabinets. He only wanted to have to get through one layer of grime when this was over. “Her stuff is safe in my office. You’ve never seen a kitchen during Hanukkah, everything gets fucking covered in grease.” He grunted, rubbing his socks against the tile and wondering if it would be worth it to do a deep clean beforehand. “I put away everything I didn’t want to see ruined.”

Jamie hummed in understanding but then scowled at the stove. “Well I guess fuck me, then. If you hated the little greyhounds, you didn’t have to use them.”

Roy frowned back, turning to look at the stove. Right, the salt and pepper shakers.

“Oh, no, I–”

“They weren’t easy to find, you know,” Jamie said, slouching against the wall and folding his arms, defensively. “Greyhounds ain’t exactly a friendly shape for salt and pepper. And no one makes things black you like it so it took a long fucking time to find something you could use in your kitchen that you would like and would remind you of your team. Like I spent ages on this shit so if you don’t like them, re-gift them to Higgins or something, I’m sure his wife would use them.”

And Roy remembers, oh fuck. Right. Jamie had been his secret santa that year. He’d loved the gift so much but had hated Jamie so he’d completely divorced the two from each other in his head. He’d forgotten completely.

He looked back at Jamie, his anger, and didn’t actually think he deserved it. “I do use them. You’ve seen me cook with them. I use them every fucking day.”

“Well how do I know you’re not just using them to make fun of me? You didn’t think they were worth saving or whatever.”

“How would using them be making fun of you?”

“I don’t know, maybe to remind me how unimportant they are? How pathetic it was for me to try so hard to get you a present?”

“Why would I even do that? I didn’t even remember they were from you!”

And that was the wrong thing to say.

Jamie’s head jerked back, his face going completely frozen even while Roy could hear a soft gasp being sucked in through his teeth.

Then, before Roy could react, Jamie’s teeth clicked together, his jaw tense, and he nodded. “Right. My mistake. Why would you remember?”

He heaved his laundry over his shoulder and nodded again. “Happy holidays, Roy.”

“Wait, no, fuck.” Roy scrambled around his kitchen island, his socks skidding a bit as he ran into Jamie gripping his arm. “I love those fucking salt shakers.”

Jamie snorted, turning enough so Roy could see him roll his eyes. “Right.”

“No, I do!” Roy said, desperation making his voice hoarse. “It makes me happy every time I look at them. I couldn’t bear putting them away. I told myself they would be worth cleaning by hand myself after the holidays.”

Jamie kept frowning, his eyes narrowed in mistrust.

Roy growled, pulling Jamie back and shoving him in a chair at the kitchen island.

“I’m not fucking lying,” He grumbled. “I forgot you gave them to me because I loved them too much to think they came from you. I sublimated it.”

Now Jamie’s eyes were confused. “Like the Beatles? The yellow sublimate?”

“That’s submarine you goddamn numpty.” Roy sighed, leaning his weight on the island. “Sublimate. Like repress or some shit.”

Jamie made a soft noise of understanding but looked away from Roy.

Roy sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Fuck.” He said, banging his fist on the island. Jamie didn’t jump. “I should have known it was you, though.” Roy sighed. “After Uncle’s Day. Should have known you’d have gotten me another one of my favorite presents.”

“Yeah?” Jamie said, his eyes getting some of their lightness back. “More than those custom trainers from Beckham?”

Roy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his relieved smile. “More than the goddamn sunglasses from Elton Fucking John.”

Jamie gasped, the sound much more welcoming than the last one. “You’ve got sunglasses from Elton John? Why haven’t I seen them?”

“Because I don’t trust you with them, I already have to lock my trophy room when you come over to make sure you don’t masturbate into my old jerseys.”

Jamie choked, going bright red. Roy huffed a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ve got no use for more trophies: things I lock in a room and never get to look at.” He pointed at the stove. “Those little shakers are with me every day. So thank you, Jamie. For the gift. I don’t know if I thanked you properly for them at the time.”

Jamie swallowed, still bright red and avoiding Roy’s eyes. “No, but you well hated me at the time so–” He shrugged, the laundry bag sliding off his shoulders and back onto the floor.

Roy grunted, putting a hand under Jamie’s chin and tilting it back.

Jamie’s eyes looked up at him, wide from shock. Whether from Roy’s earnestness or the fact Roy was touching him so softly, he couldn’t be sure.

And he couldn't think about it or he was going to lose his nerve.

He leaned forward and kissed Jamie softly on the mouth. Roy could hear the breath halt in Jamie’s body, the muscles in his back and neck tensing in surprise, but his mouth was loose, accepting Roy without protest and pressing back like it was as natural as blinking.

Roy pulled back just enough so he could say. “Thank you, Jamie. Really. You’re a good boy.”

Jamie squeaked, his eyes still wide and his body moving toward Roy like Jamie was fighting not to chase Roy’s lips.

Roy just smiled, leaning in to kiss him again once, very quickly, before pulling away completely.

“Why don’t I make us some supper?” Roy asked, turning back to his kitchen. “Reward for cleaning up before my parents get here.”

It took a look time and several unsuccessful attempts at speech before Jamie said. “You shouldn’t cook, you just cleaned the kitchen. Why don’t we get takeaway?”

Roy looked at him, nodding again in approval and delighting at Jamie nervously looking away. “Good, yeah.” He bit back a smile as Jamie squeaked again. “I could use a kebab.”

[flufftober]

TWO MORE WEEKS TO GO 🥳

Yes, we're very excited!! We can't wait to see all your wonderful creations 😍

Also, another shoutout to other wonderful October events:

@whumptober and @angstober once again have such amazing prompts and I wouldn't mind seeing our prompts melted together - let those characters suffer before they get all the fluff 😏

But if you'd rather give your characters a double or even triple dose of fluff, don't forget about cozytober and @raven-cincaide-words' Sweet and Spooky Halloween Prompts 💕

If you know of any other events, especially now during October, please let us know so we can spread some love for them as well 🥰

And now: back to being productive - if you see this, go and work on one of your entries for at least twenty minutes 😇 Happy Creating 💚

🍂 🍃 Hello and welcome to our fourth annual Flufftober 🍂 🍃

We’re so excited to be back and have you here once again!

As always, let’s fill the month of October with as much fluff as possible 🥰 for that to happen, you can either use our 31 regular prompts or enjoy a little challenge 😏

Below the cut, you'll find all our rules, posting info, and all the prompts in writing. If you have any more questions, please feel free to send us an ask.

And now, for the challenge...

Prompt Extras

We love to see how many of you get inspired by our prompts every year - be it by the original list or the Prompt Extras. Once again we're offering you that option and you're more than welcome to replace prompts from the original list if they don't work for you for whatever reason - no explanation needed.

As has become tradition, we offer you last year's top five fan favorites (as voted in the end survey). In addition to that, we also offer a little challenge: five angsty prompts for you to turn fluffy!

If you don't want to replace any prompt from the original list but still love the additional ones - or you simply want to challenge yourself even further - you can also mix them all together!

So in whichever way you use these Prompt Extras, have fun with them and go wild 💚

We hope you like these prompts, and now

Happy Creating 🥳

Standard Blog Rules & FAQ

(Due to previous asks, we made sure to add more points to this section - while they're not new rules, they're newer to this list, so you'll find them colored green)

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged. No inc*st: This rule does not apply to distant cousins and such, as you might find in the LotR fandom (or basically in all of European Monarchy). The line we draw is at direct blood relations (siblings, parents, kids) and/or legal guardianship. No p*dophilia: This rule does not rule out fandoms that feature teenagers such as Harry Potter, Heartstoppers, Hunger Games, etc. It also doesn't mean you can't write about their time together as teenagers! It's aimed at ships in which one is a minor and the other is not - but since even that has grey areas, the rule is this: if you keep it SFW, all is good and allowed, we don't care; if it turns NSFW, be mindful of the legalities of the world/society/times your characters live in.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gif sets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…). If you would like to create a podfic, the fic you're using does not have to be new - your creation will be new!

You can mix and mash different mediums however you like, be it within one prompt or on different days.

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉 that, of course, doesn't mean you can't combine it with angsty/whumpy prompts - hurt/comfort is absolutely welcome!

You can start creating as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

If you post early, we will schedule your post for the correct day; if you use multiple prompts in one creation, we will post on the earliest day you used.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

You can replace as many original prompts as you like with our prompt extras; you can also combine them with the original prompts or create for them in addition, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts.

You do not have to stick to one character, ship, or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

Original works as well as OCs in fandoms are welcome! But please make sure to mark these clearly, either in the tags or the post itself. We're not familiar with all fandoms (though we're definitely learning a lot!), so we're not always sure what might be an OC and what might be such an unknown side character not even Google can find them...

Reader insert fics (for example "character x reader") as well as RPFs are absolutely allowed.

Other languages are also welcome - just make sure to clearly mark the day and fandom so that we can still easily reblog.

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months or years later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2024 Please make sure there is NO SPACE between flufftober and 2024! We will NOT be checking the other tag this year!

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also mention us with @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2024 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt extra tag it as #alt [number]

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection Flufftober 2024 (either as flufftober2024 or as flufftober_2024)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like always, reblogs will become less regular the more months have passed...

Prompts

1. Lost Pet Meet Cute

2. “Left. Other left!”

3. Favorite Scent

4. Market Day

5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

6. Mistaken Identity

7. Hoodie Weather

8. Chopping & Piling Wood

9. “Don’t do that!” - “But…”

10. Bet, Game, Contest

11. Ingredients & Spells

12. “This is spooky.” - “Really?”

13. Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

14. Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

15. “What are you wearing?” - “It’s laundry day!”

16. Yes, No, Maybe

17. Only One Bed

18. Bewitched

19. Yarn

20. Paw

21. Bonfire

22. Heirloom

23. Stormy Night

24. Comfort Food

25. Haunted House

26. “I can’t find it.”

27. Afternoon Stroll

28. Lucky Charm

29. Time Capsule

30. “Forever?”

31. Make a Wish

Prompt Extras

Last Year's Favorites

Alt 1: “I’ve got you”

Alt 2: Rainy Day

Alt 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

Alt 4: “I hate it” - “No, you don’t”

Alt 5: Porch Swing

Challenge "Make it Fluffy!"

Alt 6: Gravestone

Alt 7: Getting Revenge

Alt 8: Written but never sent

Alt 9: Suddenly Severed Communication

Alt 10: Rejected, Betrayed, Exiled, Left Behind

[raven-cincaide]

Corn Maze Child 

Summary: You run away from home and hide in the corn maze field, hoping against all hope and praying to all that would listen that you won’t be found. Your prayer is answered by the most peculiar pair possible. Or when you get ‘adopted’ by Sukuna. 

Pairing (non-romantic!) child-reader x father-figure Sukuna during Heiain era.  Sweetober prompt 6: Corn Maze   WC: 1.6 K Warnings: Cursing, hint at human consumption/cannibalism (it’s Sukuna and Uraume talk), unhappy home life and child running away from home (kind of child kidnapping if you squint?) 

They say curses are the root of all evil. 

Born out of regret, fear, shame, and misery directly contribute to the end of a human's life: death, capish, and no light at the end of the black tunnel situation. But you, even at your tender age of 6, knew there were things worse than monsters under the bed and round blobs of semi-invisible spirits that lingered on your village-mothers doorstep. 

It was humans. 

“Y/N!!” screamed an unfamiliar voice, echoed by another, a third and a fourth, and many more than you could count. They all sounded from different directions. Sometimes, they screamed one after the other, but as night drew nearer, their screams became overlapping screeches. The disturbing echo of your name that their screams produced danced along the dark field, followed the long cornrows and reached your tiny ears like a desperate plea—another cry familiar to you. For a second, you considered stepping out of your hiding place. But then you heard your mother's desperate cry and instantly shrugged back. A shudder passed through your tiny frozen body, and you huddled closer in on yourself. A scream sounded closer, and you covered further among the towering corn stalks.

 The faint barking of dogs in the distance made your eyes tear up. 

You prayed they wouldn’t find you, or at least that they would give up searching for you for the night so you could run just a little bit further away from the hell you were forced to call’ home’. You knew they would first search along the cornfield rows, near the parts pointing towards your house. That’s where your parents would normally find you whenever you ran away. They’d most likely find the bag of toys you stuffed there, maybe even the clothes you left behind from your last run-away attempt. The food you stole and stashed and the few precious teddies you wanted with you on your ‘trip away.’ 

You prayed they’d find the stuff you had hidden and assumed you were stolen.

You prayed to anyone who’d listen that they’d abandon their search so that you could, finally, succeed in running away.  

You had failed every time you tried. So, this time, you set off in a completely different direction. You left early in the morning, just after breakfast, and ran toward the middle of the field for as long as your little legs could carry you. Sometimes, when the heat became unbearable, and you could no longer hear any sounds from the farm, you started running left- or was it right? You couldn’t remember anymore. You just knew you strayed away from the path a long, long time ago, and around dinner time, you found a spot where the corn was mainly clustered and hid there. Knees pressed to your chest, back against the corn, your teddy in one hand and your backpack in another. You had eaten the toast and drank half of the water your mother gave you before sending you off to play outside. 

You were tired, hungry, and cold, but you were terrified that if you breathed the wrong way, someone would notice the corn shifting against the wind and find you. You had to be patient, you had to be brave, you had to– 

“ Uraume, you said this was the shortcut.” A rough male voice displeased and unfamiliar, echoed through the darkness, close enough to overshadow the screams for your name. The voice sent shivers up and down your spine, the same type of shivers you felt whenever one of the spirits in the village-nanny’s home got close to you. When they’d look at you with hollow eyes, seemingly perplexed as to why you were alone, crying in the corner of the room.

The voice made your stomach twist. You felt pins and needles in your hands and feet, and the second your feeling became unbearable, you moved into a run. 

“What the fuck?!” the same male voice, with a hint of surprise in it, cursed at you as you ran straight into the owner's leg and clung to it. Your tiny hands gripped the white kimono, clutching the soft material with all your might. 

You didn’t let go even as your leg tried to shake you off. 

“ I believe this is a human child” " a female voice spoke behind you, and you peeked up from the leg you clung to, your eyes coming face to face with the white-haired woman with a bright red streak through it. The woman’s eyes ran you up and down, from the strands of your messy hair down to the tips of your dirty ties and back up. “It seems food comes running straight to you, Sukuna-sama.” 

You heard something like a chuckle, but you couldn’t be entirely sure if it were that as the following words sounded menacingly angry: “ Isolent, worthless brat.”

You felt something grab the back of your neck, something sharp and piercing before it yanked you up, so you came face to face with... Two faces? Several sets of eyes, dark markings all over his face. Which stretched further under the white kimono he was wearing. It confused you slightly; the design looked like something your mother would wear, but the creature in front of you was anything but motherly. Its lips pulled up in a sneer of disgust. A disgust that seemed to grow for every second when he held you up by the tips of his fingers. 

Even with the unmistakable look of disgust, you thought he looked non-menacing, almost friendly. 

“Well?” The man, Sukuna, growled, and the woman stepped closer. You could see her out of the corner of your eyes as she inspected you, as though you were a piece of meat or another object for her to inspect. She looked at you like your mother looked at wool in the store, examining every inch of fabric- her gaze running up from the tip of your messy hair down to your tippy toes, lingering on every tiny scar, scratch and dirt speck on you. You blinked at her in confusion and raised your hand in a small wave. 

She didn’t wave back. Rude. 

“ Not much meat on this one,” the woman stated, and you felt your body beginning to sway as if the fingers holding you were about to toss you back into the cornfield you had run out from, “Although it’s young and pitiful, it has potential value.”  

“Raising cattle is not in my interest, Uraume.” Sukuna was about to toss you back into the cornfield when Uraume spoke up again. 

“No, but with the government sticking their fingers in fertility and the number of children-�� Uraume cut herself off. 

Sukuna followed her trail of thought-” A cute enough brat around can attract concubines and cattle?” 

“-Creating a never-ending supply of both!” 

You saw them grin at each other, laughing menacingly, and you realised you missed something important. Not that much- if any- of the words they uttered made sense to your child's brain. Still, the way they both suddenly looked at you up and down again made you shudder. You didn’t know what would happen, so all you could do was look between the ground you were hovering above and the cornfield you were sure you would be tossed back into. 

“Oj, what’s your name?” Sukuna asked, raising you a little closer to his face. He studied you, studied your expression; instead of a sneer, there was a frown now as if he expected you to scream or throw a temper tantrum.  

You blinked back at him calmly; “Y/N?” sounded more like a question than an answer. His red eyes narrowed at you as if waiting for you to add something to your answer. 

You didn’t. 

He sighed and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You let out a low whine, your hungry stomach hurting from the rough contact with his shoulder. But as you heard the echo of your name carry across the cornfield, you quickly ducked your head, growing silent. The two curses heard it, too, and noticed how you ducked down in a tense ball on Sukuna’s shoulders. “Well, brat, if you want to get out of here, you better know the way to the demon shrine.” 

Your head raised, you frowned a little, then pointed in the direction the two had come from. “Mamma always says it’s on the other end of the forest. Over the spring, turn left, and then you’d see I?” 

You felt a pat on your back, a touch that confused you, but you didn’t say anything- you couldn’t. Not when Sukuna called out Uraume’s god-awful navigation skills, and Uraume said it was still a shortcut. No, you stayed silent on Sukuna’s shoulder. The last thing you wanted him to know was that you weren’t sure whether you were supposed to go left or right in the spring... Or were you supposed to cross it, maybe?

You’re sure you’ll figure it out by the time you three got there… maybe… 

Author note: A little sweet piece... I wanted to write a post-credit scene (kinda like many years later) but then hesitated. Would you even want to read that?

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft (If I've missed someone, please let me know!)

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[raven-cincaide]

Get To Know Your Wife

Summary: You can’t fight your arranged marriage with Megumi Fushiguro. But you’ll do everything you can to ensure it doesn’t become one of those loveless, boring marriages on paper. Even if that means you have to be the biggest pain in his ass, you could be.  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (future husband,arranged marriage) Megumi Fushiguro Sweetober prompt 8: Farmers Market  WC 1.3K Warnings: Suggestive (dirty jokes and light humiliation/being a pain in the ass/dick jokes) cursing, fluff

“This is a pointless waste of time.” 

“ Hey, you take that back!” you spun around on your heel to face the brooding, pouting, cross-armed Megumi Fushiguro, who merely raised an eyebrow at your outburst and disrespectful tone. As you came closer, one hand on your hip and the second pointed an extended index finger in his face the tip of your nail was just inches away from his nose, and he merely scoffed.

You stepped closer, your nail just barely graced his nose.

Megumi swatted your hand away from his face as though it were a fly. “I said this is pointless,” he repeated slowly, as though you lacked some marbles or were a very dense child unable to keep up with the obvious adult talk. “ We will be married regardless of our thoughts or feeling; all this is just a waste.”

He made an open palm motion towards the farmers market all around you, the lovely-dovey couples sharing autumn treats, the families playing market games, high scholars messing about at the pumpkin carving contests and just passers-by enjoying the farm fresh veggies, hand-crafted items and stories from travelling merchants. 

It was a place where tradition met modernity, the new met the old, and there were indeed activities to fit both your tastes. Typical topics to talk about, childhood memories to share, heck even just as simple as learning about each other's favourite and hated fall treats could be something to talk about. 

Anything that wasn’t marriage or clan-related. 

Or at least, that had been your plan for the day. A feeble attempt at connection. You even went through all the formal hoops to request a sliver of his time, all according to customs and expectations and ridiculous rules between your clans. However now that you finally made it to the farmers market, he had the audacity to call all your effort ‘pointless’. 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you would have slapped that self righteous expression right of his condescending face. The piercing glare that was soon accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. The way he drew his own conclusions from your actions  “I’ll take your silence as agreement, now then we’ll head back-” 

“ -I’m not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage.” you cut him off. Your arms moved to cross over your chest, your foot tapped away at the ground in a nervous tipp-tipp-tapp sound- a dead giveaway to your anxiety. 

Megumi raised an eyebrow at your statement. “You think a trip to a farmers market will somehow turn this into a love story? You’re more naive than I thought.” 

You hated how he looked down at you. How he thought he knew everything because he was the zenin with the greatest technique that could make him the strongest in the world. How the power so obviously had gone to that spikey head of his and turned it so empty he became a sea urchin “No, I am giving you the opportunity to learn to treat me right before the marriage ceremony takes place” 

“ Or what?” 

“Or I will be the biggest nuisance to you, turning this marriage into a living hell” You threatened. When he didn’t relent, you smiled almost too sweetly, taking a deep breath. “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Instantly he was on you, his hand covering your mouth and the obscenities it spewed. 

“ What the hell?” Megumi growled,his face an awkward shade of red as he heard several passers by repeat your sentence. You weren’t done yet. Using the old, stick out your tongue and lick, trick, you felt him yank his hand away from your lips in disgust. 

Then you graced the passers by with another well timed, embarrassing comment: “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick and doesn’t know how to use–!” 

His hand was back over your mouth, blush unmistakable as he peered at you through narrowed eyes. “ Will you shut up!” Megumi growled as he began to pull you away from the centre of the marketplace. “You’re humiliating yourself!”

“Mphhmmm mmm phm” his hand muffled your words and insults that you tried to scream right out,  insults which turned into laughter as you dug your heels into the ground, making him stumble and struggle to drag you away. A sight that definitely attracted attention much to your delight and his humiliation 

“Fucking hell, shut up and move will you?” Megumi snapped, yanking you particularly hard the same second as you raised your leg,which made you lose your balance and hit his back, sending him flying forward. Megumi caught himself last second, and by extension you caught yourself by crashing into his back. “Ouph you little- Don’t you dare!”

You didn’t realize why he got snappy, until your eyes landed on some of his clansmen and a few familiar faces. You took another deep breath readying to scream your most humiliating insult yet. Should you do another dick jab? Maybe the next one should question his choices? Or his inability to find a lover unless his clan bribed someone and-

“Okay fine!” Megumi snapped over his shoulder before you could finish formulating your thought. “Fine.” He sounded defeated as he turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “Where do you wanna go first?” 

You were tempted to send him to hell, to humiliate him in front of his precious friends and clansmen. But then you reasoned your ammunition against him would bleed dry even before the day was over. So you bit your tongue and plastered a huge smile on your face as your eyes landed onto one of the jewelry stalls a distance away, “We start over there” You nodded in the stalls direction and began walking there. “Oh and by the way you’re paying today. Your punishment for being ungrateful.” 

Megumi shot you another dark look as he fell into step beside you. “Whatever” he muttered with a huff. His hands were in his pockets but even without seeing them you could tell they shook in anger. An unmistakable frustration at being outsmarted by a girl. 

“Oh, and try to smile, will you?” you knew you were toying with him, but you had to know the limit to your power.

“Tsk” 

Okay, no smiles you concluded just as your eyes ran over the market patrons and landed on a familiar tall white-haired man you were certain carried the title of your soon to be’s adoptive father.“ Megumi has–” 

“ Will you shut up already with the dick jokes?!” Megumi snapped his voice loud enough to make the white-haired man turn around, and his lips split open into a huge grin. You swore the sight of it, and the subsequent ‘My son’ made Megumi hate you just a tiny bit more. “See what you did?” he mouthed pulling you in another direction as the man made a beeline for you, leaving you to wonder whether you should take mercy on your soon-to-be and sneak away before Satoru Gojo met you, or if you should dig your feet in again just for the sheer amusement of it all. 

After all, if Megumi had taken the time to get to know his soon-to-be wife, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament. So he had only himself to blame for this situation, right?

Author note: I'm dying beneath uni studies, work and my upcoming trip, but I still wanted to update something more this week. Hope this was worth the wait!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka

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[raven-cincaide]

 Pumpkin Carving Contest 

Summary: You enter a pumpkin carving contest without knowing what to carve. In panic you settle for one of Megumi’s shikigami, without much thought behind the choice. In fact, you don’t think much of it…. until your Ex shows up, wanting to know what the hell you thought you were doing.

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (ex) Megumi Fushuguro  Sweetober prompt 3: Pumpkin carving contest  WC: 3.1 K Warnings: Cursing, hurt/comfort, hint at Megumi’s trauma, 

Think of something scary 

You stared at the unusually shaped pumpkin in front of you, your head rested in the palm of your hand while the second free hand nervously flickered through the drawings in your sketchbook. You had given up on trying to design something new and were desperately seeing if any of your previous ideas or sketches could be adapted to fit the pumpkin, which was significantly less jack-o-lantern round than what you were used to. No, it was relatively flat, and oval shaped like a cabbage with a long, thick stem.  

When you signed up for the carving competition and picked out your pumpkin, there were only a handful of pumpkins left to pick from.  All the perfectly round pumpkins and even the more classic, slightly dented ones were taken, leaving behind either abnormally large or significantly deformed ones. In sheer panic, you picked the first pumpkin you saw and stuck with that choice even as the competition administrator checked with you three times to see if he understood you currently. Knowing you were fucked either way, you stuck with your choice. 

This led you to the predicament you were in, sitting on the picnic bench at the event, silently staring at your notebook with the same cheap plastic carving tools that everyone else had. Yours however were untouched, while all around you laid the same tools in various shapes of destroyed. The sound of cracking pumpkins, curses and scraping of insides filled the space all around you. Most of the other competitors were well on the way with their creatuons and would surely be done within the designated three hours. You hadn’t even set on the design, let alone started carving. You may as well count your losses, although you weren’t ready to give up completely. 

What’s even scary to people? 

Three years ago that question would have an obvious answer to you. After being hunted by curses, dating Megumi and being around his Shinigami, the answer was less clear. What was a ghost or a spider in comparison to a house-sized snarling monster? What were bloody handprints when you had seen Megumi’s almost cut off fingers, and claw-sized chunks of missing flesh out of him? What were fake vampires when you had run in with s real soul sucker and lived!? 

You cut off your trail of thoughts as your eyes landed on a competitor's pumpkin that was chiselled out of human-like teeth to accompany the perfectly round Jack-o-Lantern eyes. You didn’t necessarily find it scary, a bit unnerving as your thoughts drifted to the impossible possibility of the pumpkin coming to life. Would it be scary then, or are just the human-like teeth.. Scary? 

Instantly, your mind brought up an image of a creature you had only ever seen once over a year ago. Large owl-like body with dirty orange feathers, huge talons that could carry or shred and a pair of wings. The face was a white mask with eerie human features and human-like teeth. Megumi had called the shinigami ‘Nue’ when he taught you how to make shadow puppets one late afternoon. You had been so excited to learn, doing your best to wiggle your fingers to mimic the shapes he was doing like second nature—dog, bunny and then bird. And even if you’d never be able to summon the magnificent creatures he could, the simple thing made you feel closer to Megumi. More connected. And you’d always make the sign for the ‘dog’ whenever you felt lonely. The memory brought a stab of pain to your heart, and you shook your head, desperate to chase away the pleasant-unpleasant reminders of your ex. Instead you forced your focus back to the pumpkin in front of you

Was Nue scary?

You tried to think back to what you felt when the owl-like beast had appeared. Was it fear you felt? Or just pure excitement as you got to ruffle its huge feathers all you wanted. Yet as time ticked away- and with no better alternative at hand- you sketched the design of the shinigami from memory and began to chisel away at your pumpkin. Using the pumpkin's naturally flattened shape as a guide for Nue’s wings, you carved them to stretch behind its main face, as though the shikigami was in mid-flight. The central focus was the face; the large eyes and the toothy mask clasped, teeth bared so every single one of them was visible. You also split the thick stem of the pumpkin and tried to shape it and hack at it to make Nue’s signature ruffle feathers at the top of his head. You didn’t think it would save your creation, but maybe you would get a little above zero points, 

Maybe even a participation trophy AND creativity trophy. 

Those were your thoughts as you submitted the pumpkin and your number to the contestant before going to wash up and then purposefully forgetting all about it, Nue, Megumi and the competition entirely. There was no point in walking around stressing about a sure loss and questioning whether you had picked the right subject for the right category. Nue wasn’t scary, and even if you tried to make him malicious, you doubted he would stand a chance against seasoned pumpkin carvers. Besides the winner would be announced a week later, at the end of the fall festival giving people, both locals and those from larger towns around, ample time to vote and photograph the dozens of pumpkins. 

The unmistakable highlight of the local newspaper. After all a pumpkin carving contest was the most exciting thing that happened in a small town over an hour from the capital.

By the time Sunday the following week rolled around, you had completely forgotten that you had used Nue as the subject for your pumpkin. You pushed back the memories of carving the creature into the orangy flesh, and the sentimental feelings that wanted to spill to the surface while you carved. You were the same as the way you had been since your and Megumi’s break up; controlled, collected, unbothered. 

Moved on. 

It was a lie, internally you were a total fucking mess who still couldn’t understand why after five years together Megumi decided to call it off. Even being months apart didn’t make it any clearer to you. And it certainly didn’t make it any clearer, or easier, when you saw Megumi standing by the podium where the three winning pumpkins were placed on stands of different heights. His hands in his pockets, face angled up towards the carved creations, eyes focused on the winner: the unmistakable carving of Nue taking flight. 

You must have been imagining things, and your cruel mind was playing tricks on you. He wasn’t there, and you hadn’t won the entire competition- had you? Yet as you stumbled closer and closer, you came to the unmistakable realization that both of those things were true. You won. The honour, a set of carving knives and a small cash price were yours to collect before the end of the day. You won, with Nue, and Megumi was here, staring at the same carving of Nue that you were. He didn’t turn around and leave the second you appeared like he had done whenever he ran into you post-breakup. He stood rooted in place, and so did you, staring at the same damn pumpkin as the rest of the world faded into the background.  

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Megumi’s voice sounded tired and frustrated as if you had done the stupidest thing in the world. It was the same tone he had used with you whenever a date turned into a mission and you threw a rock at a cursed spirit to give Megumi enough time to summon his demon dogs. 

“What?” You snapped back, your voice holding nothing but pure anger. Three months apart, and this was the greeting he gave you, after five years together? Although it served to enrage you, the tiny part of you that still loved this man beyond all words rang warning bells. Plus the annoying bells in your mind told you that something didn’t quite add up.  

“Don’t ‘what’ me” Megumi turned to face you, pure fury in his expression. “You have no idea the kind of danger you put yourself in by announcing your connection to me, and after everything-” He cut himself off and shook his head as if it wasn’t worth explaining what he meant and settle for a tamer “- you pull this type of stunt!” 

You faced him, your mouth set into a straight line so hard your lips were pale while you clutched your fists tightly to prevent yourself from snapping or slapping him for telling you how to lead your life, especially while he still talked in riddles. A deep breath, inhale in- exhale out. You did your best to stay calm, your mind completely focused on that annoying ringing voice that demanded answers, “‘This stunt’ What the hell is your issue anyway? We’re not a couple, I can do and carve whoever I want now” Your voice came out huffier and more bitter than you intended. Megumi narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t be an idiot, especially after all the hoops and sacrifices I made to keep you safe-?” “-You made?-”  Megumi ignored your outburst and kept talking: “- and instead of quietly going on to live your best life, you’re practically screaming to the entire jujutsu society that you’re involved in our world, with me. You’re putting a target on your back, and I can’t keep you safe.” Megumi took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt to distract you and anyone who looked at him from the obviously embarrassed blush on his face. 

You were quiet for a long moment, processing both what he was saying and everything he wasn’t saying, the subtitles that Megumi bore, which he didn’t want you to know about. The things that were part of his world, his reality and which he refused to let you enter even after dating for five years. Although to your advantage, five years was a long time to get to know someone, even as close off and aloof as Megumi. You wouldn’t say you read him like an open book, but you were as close as anyone to being able to read Megumi like an open book. 

 “Then get stronger, ” you said it so casually that it was Megumi’s turn to snort. But now it's you who’s not letting him get a word in; “Let’s face it, Yuji’s just proposed to his girlfriend who can’t even see curses or cursed energy-” 

“ -It’s different” Megumi snapped, his tone grew louder and more frustrated- loud enough to silence you mid-sentence.  Again he ran his hand through his hair as if it could calm his rage. “Yuji doesn’t have one of the three most powerful jujutsu clans demanding him to be their next clan head.” 

You raised an eyebrow at his excuse, your expression unconvinced. “You also don’t want to be part of Zenin”, you shot back instantly.

Megumi didn’t look at you. “It’s not that easy. If I leave, they’ll target you...” he trailed off unsure how to continue. 

It took you all of three minutes to gather yourself, your fingers moving from crossed arms to pressing against your temple in a more subtle facepalm - slash - combatting -the -oncoming -headache look.

“So let me get this straight Megumi,” You utter the words slowly, making it clear you were trying to follow his not-so-logical trail of thoughts. “You broke up with me because what? Yuji proposed to his girlfriend of 2 years, and it made you feel less of a man-” Megumi shot you a dark glare which you promptly ignored “- because for you to do the same, you’d need to break things off with Zenin clan which might take years, you think they’ll target me and think I will betray you-” 

-” I don’t think you will betray me”, he added hastily, and you threw your hands up in the air in surrender. 

“Then what, Megumi? Why did you throw five years out of the window? Then chastise me for carving Nue into a pumpkin. Make it make sense, please!” 

You were desperate now. 

You were desperate to understand his reasoning because his behaviour was the definition of contradictions and illogical. To push you away and coldly break up with you, yet so obviously still care about you and your safety. 

No, the Megumi that stood in front of you at that moment, frustrated and embarrassed, was the polar opposite of the aloof and composed, slightly awkward yet always well-prepared Megumi you’ve come to know and love. You needed to understand why. But he didn’t give you an answer, not verbally, at least. Instead, his eyes flickered down to your stomach, and lingered there for a long moment before they returned to your face. Your mind registered the action and tried to process it step by step. You weren’t pregnant; you two had never even talked about children until he suddenly hinted at it. So why would he suddenly fixate himself with that? 

A look of shame crossed his features; Megumi licked his dry lips, his fists shaking in his pockets. The penny dropped as you realised it wasn’t logic speaking but trauma, an irrational fear that if you were to settle down and get pregnant, then, you, who would automatically get primary childcare- if not by being a mother, then certainly with his long absences as a sorcerer-, would be swayed by Zenin the same way his own father had been.

 Megumi worried you’d sell your future children to the godforsaken clan while he would be helpless to stop it, tying him right back to the Zenin’s. A repeat of what he’d been through.

“You’re afraid.” it felt weird to say it aloud. Megumi has always been strong and always denied being afraid of anything, but now you knew he was afraid; afraid that his clan would somehow turn his and your life into a misfortune, a repeat of his father, Toji’s, life. A pain for you, a horror for him and a torture for whatever offsprings you two made. 

“I don’t want to waste your prime” Megumi’s voice was quiet now, rendered with guilt and the inevitable comparison he was making between your relationship and Yuji and his fiancee. The pair who was already settling down two years into their relationship, while you and Megumi had broken up at the five-year mark. Broke up over a hypothetical ‘getting more involved with each other’ and even more hypothetical children and what would happen if Zenin got involved in your lives. 

“This is so stupid” You breathed, pressing the backs of your hands against your eyes. You didn’t know whether you wanted to burst out crying or laughing. It was like a bad comedy sketch. “First, would you say it’d be a waste of ‘our prime’ if we can’t have children?” You look up from your hands to see Megumi staring at you with a deadpan expression. “No, I’m serious, just consider for a moment that we follow the supposed plan ‘we should be doing’, you know, get married before 7 years together have passed, then try for children only to find out one of us is infertile. Would that be a waste of 7 years for you?” 

He looked lost. You weren’t done yet. “Second, our timeline and relationship are different from Yuji’s relationship. If they want to get married within a year, that’s up to them. In the same way, it wouldn’t make a difference between us if Nobara were to get a shotgun wedding tomorrow. We’re only in our twenties, Megumi. And unlike some, I am not ready to put my career on hold for household duties and changing diapers.” Your voice grew quiet, and the tears you had been pushing back all this time threatened to spill down your cheeks in angry streams. 

There was so much more you wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him how this was a conversation you two should have had together. You wanted to tell him that a future together, a tomorrow, wasn’t guaranteed. In the same way, his mother had been suddenly ripped away from his father, he could die in battle, or you could be hit by a car tomorrow and perish. 

A day,  week or a year wasn’t promised to either of you; life owed you nothing but that very moment. 

You wanted him to know that so it was pointless to make these huge plans for the future that would most likely not work out. Even more foolish was comparing your relationship with someone else's. To wait five, or ten years to get married might be a curse for one person- but a blessing for another. But you couldn’t voice any of that; you don’t know how, so you settle for a much simpler; “ You’re an idiot, Megumi. A big mean dummy” 

Megumi looked embarrassed, guilty and awkward and turned away from you, back to face the ‘scary’ pumpkins, which judged you from their stands. The blush on his face matched the crimson of his ears. And just like that, you were back from your little emotional bubble and in the real world, suddenly aware of the little audience of curious passers-by who watched your intimate exchange. 

Your own face flushed red, and you looked down, unsure of what to say. 

“You know.. You really hurt Nue’s feelings, carving him as the theme for ‘scary, creepy and nightmarish’ ¨

You realized the olive branch when you saw it, and although you are the one who should be angry and mean, telling him to fuck off, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny that little peace offering. It was hard to throw five years together, primarily because of trauma wrapped in communication issues. The fact of the matter was Megumi broke up with you out of fear and care, not out of spite. Somehow, that fact made him feel more human to you, more relatable in a way. Not so perfect. 

So you just stretched your hand towards him; “Then let me apologise to Nue, in person.” 

Megumi took your hand without hesitation, tugging it into his jacket pocket to keep warm against the chilly October weather before he began heading to a more private spot to summon your muse. 

This conversation was far from over, and things were in no way back to the way they were before the breakup. But at least you both had talked and came to the mutual realisation that you wanted to fix this, to make it work, and you were sure the rest would sort itself… one way or another.

Author note: In my opinion there are just not enough Megumi fics where you've gone past the initial stage of the relationship, moved past the 'getting comfortable together' but before happy hubby stage. You know the uncertain period where you don't know when to propose or even if you should. The no-longer-girlfriend but not yet wife stage. This was me trying to rectify.

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[ravencincaide]

The First Time is the Hardest 

Summary:  You got yourself in the biggest shit in your life and didn’t know where to go or who to turn to. Luckily Chuuya’s door was always open for you, no matter the time or the state you were  in. Or the time you find out your innocent boyfriend may not be so innocent after all. 

Pairing: fem!reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 20: Showering 

Warnings: Murder/implied self defense, blood, heavily implied abuse, cursing, nudity + showering together, dark content. Light angst/ Hurt and Sweet Chuuya comfort. 

Enjoy~

You barely registered the whipping rain. The large drops of icy water were hitting your practically nude body; dressed only in a torn, shredded drenched- summer dress which clung to your body like second skin, Over it; a black scarf, a large thing which you had draped over your head, snaked over your shoulders and then bunched up at your chest. You held it up with both arms, giving you an almost widow-like eerily broken appearance. A sight that made most humans uncomfortable on a normal day. To add to the grim sight; you wore no shoes on your feet and no socks, just the reminiscence of your tights, full of long holes, as if you got caught on something and pulled, tearing the thin synthetic to slivers.  

A young woman in the middle of a heavy rainstorm with that appearance made people avert their gaze from you as though you bore the plague. No one wanted to get involved; no one dared to engage. 

Slowly you dragged yourself forward, head bowed. You didn’t know how long you walked, you didn’t even know where you were going. Your feet just carried you seemingly at random. When you had nowhere to go, it didn’t matter what path you took or how long you strolled about. It was not like you were wanted or waited anywhere. 

No, that was- 

You cut your trail of morbid thoughts off as you recognized the area. Your eyes widened and you  looked up just as you came to stand in front of a house. Like a fairytale, it stood on top of a hill, fairly isolated from its neighbors. With large modern windows, two stories and a flat roof perfect for private picnics. One side of it overlooked the water while the second faced the city. You could see the lights in the windows of the top floor, peeking through the tiny gap between the thick black curtains. 

At that moment, you didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved that he was home.

You barely registered  as your feet propelled you forward with a speed you didn’t know your body had. Stumbling over rocks and your own feet you caught yourself over and over again as you ran to his front door. On the last step you tripped again and fell forward unable to catch yourself. Your knees made painful contact with the cobblestone outside his door. The pain was barely noticeable on your chilled skin but that little amount of it was sufficient to make you burst into tears. Your arms wrapped around your shoulders, sobs tearing through your body. You needed to save yourself, to reach up and ring that doorbell but you were too damaged to do so.

Was this going to be the end of you?

“ Sweetheart, what the hell are you doing here?” Chuuya’s alarmed voice suddenly reached your ears. You sobbed harder. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, or when he had opened the door, but his voice felt like heaven. A sweet salvation you did not deserve. 

“ I’m sorry” You sobbed out as he pulled you up to your feet. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him. “ I didn’t know where else to go-” 

“ C’mere” Chuuya sighed as his arms grasped your body and pulled you inside. His foot kicked the door shut behind you, yet he instantly regretted the action when you jumped from the sound. A kiss on the forehead as an apology made you less stiff. Another kiss, and Chuuya’s hands began to pry away the soaked scarf out of your icy cold hands. His lips pressed more kisses to your head as he worked on unraveling it from your body. Half way through however he visibly froze, a hitch in his breath sounding louder than your quiet cries. 

The scarf fell out of his hands, slapping against the marble floors with heavy duns; “ Dollface w-why are you covered in blood?” 

You had never heard his voice sound so different; so small. So shocked and perhaps a little scared. An almost vulnerable sound you couldn’t quite understand. But you knew you were at fault; you caused this mess and now were dragging him into it. Truly you were the worst human being in existence. Could you even call yourself human any more? 

You hung your head lower, larger tears rolling down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I did it, I-I– him I– K-ki— I’m so so sorry” you repeated that cursed word in between sobs as if it would somehow fix everything. Would take away your guilt; turn back time and erase your sin. 

You expected him to yell, to scream and curse and call the police. To shy away from you; to express his disgust at the fact that you had taken a life. To chase you away like the monster you were. Without the scarf your hands could only feebly grasp at the remanence of your blood stained dress, the sticky splatters on your clothes which reinforced your sin. The sight- the smell of it made you cry harder. 

“ I – What? Tsk’ed okay, Come on Sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up first” Chuuya stated in a calm voice; his hands wrapped themselves around your shaking bloody body and guided you in the direction of the bathroom. He helped you up the stairs, through the door then held onto you as he turned on the water. One arm around your waist, the second checking the temperature. 

Then he stepped under the water, clothes and all, pulling you with him. 

One arm remained propping you up and close to his chest, letting you sob into it.  His second worked on getting the shreds of the dress off. He tossed it into the corner of his bathroom. Then he tore your tights the rest of the way before tossing the damaged material into the same corner as the dress. His breath hitched in his throat as his fingers brushed against the bruises on your body; newly forming ones on your arms- old ones on your stomach, back and thighs. His look darkened- how the fuck did he miss those?! 

“ Oh my sweetheart” Chuuya mumbled in a whisper, careful not to scare you further. The next kiss he pressed was longer. You could have sworn Chuuya, himself was shaking. 

Before you could apologize again he got to work; determined to wash every last drop of that bastards blood off your body. He started with your shoulders, the sponge with soap carefully scrubbing each inch of your skin. Then down your back. Then to your stomach. At your permission he unclipped your bra and ran the sponge over your chest. 

“ You’re doing so good m’ gorgeous girl” he mumbled, gently hushing your sobs, calming your tears. 

He waited until you seemed a little calmer before he shifted you ever so slightly. “ Here hold onto me” he said as he raised your hands and rested them on his shoulders. Then he knelt down running the sponge over your bare legs. He focused extra attention on your feet, determined to scrub the dirt and hours of bare-foot walking away from your skin. As scratches reopened Chuuya growled, feeling of anger and incompetence, a hopeless feeling filled his chest. A reminder of his own failure to protect you. A sensation which made his hold tighten on you; “ How long were you walking around sweetheart?” he asked quietly as he dropped the sponge and rested his head on your stomach. “ How long?!” 

“ I don’t know” you whispered numbly, your eyes staring blankly at the soaked head of ginger. The once white dress shirt had splotches of red on it. And the suit pants didn’t look much better  for wear. All bećause of you-

“Hmph- Did anyone see you?” 

You swallowed and shrugged. You didn’t know. How could you know- you were still out of it. Still in shock over why he was washing your bloody body instead of having you locked up behind bars. Why was he still with you; still kissing you, holding you all that much closer, as if you had suddenly become all that much more precious? 

Why? 

 “ Chuu” you whispered and instantly he looked up at you. Blue eyes rimmed red- but whether it was from tears or shower water you couldn’t tell. “ You don’t need to cover for me. It’s okay, it’s okay– I’m sorry for dragging you into this I’--” 

“ Hah, as if one corpse is gonna make me turn tail, pretty girl. Get to hundreds and then we talk” Chuuya chuckled and pressed another kiss to your bare stomach before standing up. As if he had said the most natural thing in the world. He reached for the shampoo bottle and poured some into his hand before beginning to rub it into your hair, his eyes focused entirely  on the way the white froth turned red. 

“ W-what?!” you gaped not even being able to fathom to repeat this more times; one time was hard enough- a sin enough- wasn’t it? 

“ You heard me sweetheart; trust me when I say, the first time is the hardest. After the fifth it’s no different than doing taxes” 

You close your eyes as he tilted your head backwards, gentle fingers washed out the shampoo. Then tilted your head up again as a cold dollop of conditioner was applied. Chuuya began to massage your scalp, then the lengths of your hair, making sure to focus on the tangled strands. He was going to wash every single single reminder of the heinous act off your body. 

Your lips pull up into a wry smile at his comparison. Then you hesitate for a long moment. Salvaging the feeling of him washing your hair. The feeling brought you the tiniest bit of hope that things would turn out okay- a firm reminder that you did not deserve him  “Then… can you make it go away?” you whispered as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks “ To make it all okay?” 

Chuuya sighed and brought you closer to his chest, your tears tugging on his heart in ways he never wanted to experience ever again. Your broken expression and agonized cries felt worse than any stab wound he experienced. “ I’ll take care of everything baby, trust me? Shhh my sweetheart. Come tomorrow, this will feel like a bad dream- a nightmare you won’t give a second thought to. In time my sweets this won't cause you tears anymore; as I said, first time is always the hardest..” 

And as he pressed his lips to yours, you prayed that was the case. 

Though a little voice inside your mind told you Chuuya knew what he was talking about. At least when it came to this. You knew you should be afraid but at that moment you were just thanking the gods. If he was going to help you cover up your sin, then who were you to be concerned over the blood on his hands? 

Author Note: ... No one gets to point out my counting abilities okay? Lets focus on the fic instead, mm? It's a bit dark but definitely in my sweeter category. Originally it was like 3 times as long but hey even I can't have however-long-fics posted in one post. That being said it's only quickly edited because I just don't have the strengths for a longer edit rn. So I'm sorry for all the mistakes i'd normally catch; I'll most likely go back one day and fix it up. Until then, please enjoy this Chuuya "fluff?" Wait, can it even be called that?!

[ravencincaide]

 Not everything is as it seems 

Summary: You had every right to be angry- furious- at Chuuya, and no amount of apologies or tears was going to change that. In fact, you were considering breaking off your engagement that very second, packing your things, and leaving while putting put your relationship on hold- though just sleeping alone after months apart would do the trick. OR the time you find out that communication is both the greatest strength and weakness in your and Chuuya’s relationship. 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 30: Cuddling + an independent part two for ‘And The Truth is Out’ Warnings: Cursing, drinking, rash decisions, guilt, tears, hurt, comfort, FLUFF and a little bit of suggestive sweetness. 

Enjoy~

You pressed three fingers to the bridge of your nose, eyes shut tightly. You were doing your absolute best to handle the onslaught of emotion which washed over you in steady, suffocating waves; anger, frustration, annoyance, humiliation and guilt, And with them came a pounding headache which all served as a brief preview of the hangover you were certain to experience the following morning.  

“ So Chuuya, tell me once again how you did it for me or, well, what was it you said? ‘With me as the only thing on your mind’?“ you muttered, not opening your eyes or even turning to face him. If anything you dug your fingers even deeper into the bridge of your nose, your nails leaving small crescent markings on your skin. 

You heard him groan; a tortured sound as if repeating what he just said was a punishment in and of itself. A kind of sadistic torture that was on par with Dazai’s methods. “ Please” he sighed, a heavy, tired, drained sound “ Once was enough- don’t you think?” 

You growled in warning, a rather weak sound, but it was sufficient to have him tense beside you on the couch. Undoubtedly he was well aware of how angry, no, furious you were at him. Still, Chuuya hesitated. You could practically hear him chewing his lips to shreds as a pitiful distraction from your words. No, he chose silence over admitting his own fuck-up for a second time. A moment longer, then he reached for the almost finished fancy bottle of wine on the table. 

The one he bought, the one you stole at the beginning of the night.

He shook it slightly, raised an eyebrow at how little was left, and then sighed. Clearly not in the position to school you for the barbaric way you consumed Chateau Lafite. No, Chuuya valued his life more than wine and his relationship with you over the temptation of bringing up your wine consumption. Even if he had been right in his assessment that you needed something significantly stronger than wine to deal with this day and the issues that kept pilling up in your lap like a morbid magician trick. No, Chuuya was a lot of things, but he was not stupid enough to add more fuel to the fire by repeating himself or offending your drink consumption. 

Especially when you had heard him loud and clear the first time and were already walking the fine line between tipsy and wasted, or better yet, balancing the tightrope between someone he could actually reason with and.. Well,..his own definition of hell.

The silence dragged on for only a few moments before your anger finally reached a burning point; “ No, Chuuya, you’re going to explain to me exactly what you mean by the fact that you cancelled the restoration of my great-grandmother's wedding dress, forgot to pick it up. While also ordering another dress that, surprise, surprise, won’t be here in time for the wedding!” Your voice echoed around the apartment. Your hand dropped away from your eyes as you turned to face your fiance- now degraded to boyfriend- who once again wiped at his eyes. 

“ I told you, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out like this- m’bad I thought the store called ya. But honestly, doll, that dress was ugly, and no way in hell am I letting m’girl walk down the aisle looking like a breaded condom!” Chuuya snapped back, tiredness and tipsy shifting his position from grovelling to something snappier as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes. 

You gaped at him, a flash of hurt at his words, then a look of horror drew on your face as your drunken mind took his words literally and conjured up an image—a look which somewhat resembled the above-mentioned once-treasured-family-hairloom dress. 

You sighed, then ran a hand through your hair. The disappointment that the dress was gone was still eating away at you. Accompanied by a sense of humiliation at the description of said dress that Chuuya so unkindly used,  More importantly, however, there was anger, something between frustration and rage at the prospect that your so-called soon-to-be would rather hide and exchange dresses behind your back while on a mission away from home instead of coming up and talking to you. No, the anger in the pit of your stomach did not allow you to let him off the hook just yet. 

The devil on your shoulder probed for you to break up with Chuuya then and there- if that was how he acted prior to marriage, only the devil knew the kind of manipulative bastard he could become once the ring (or noose) was tied around your finger. While the angel on your shoulder whispered he did it entirely out of care and love for you; Chuuya knew how much the dress meant to you, but he was also very aware that your already shaky reputation could be affected negatively by said dress. Not to mention how it would affect Chuuya’s image as an executive of Port Mafia if he let his soon-to-be become the butt of the underground society joke. 

Perhaps you did not need to be too harsh on him; a week on the couch and a half-cold shoulder would probably be more than plenty to make sure he never again tried to mess with your clothes, body or choices. Although you’d never admit it, but being separated from him for a few months may have affected your decision in his favour. 

If only slightly.

Admitted defeat, you turned to face him; “ And the tears? Surely you’re not such a pussy to cry about the dress now” you asked, your eyebrow raised as you finally looked at him, twisting and turning on the couch beside you, if not in pain, then in the very least huge discomfort. The sight of it tugged ever so slightly at your angry heart; not enough to cuddle and kiss him but sufficient to ask what the issue was. 

“ ‘Course not, baby, it’s these godamned fucking cheap ass lenses that I can’t get out. Fuck” Chuuya moaned in pain as he pressed the back of his hands against his eyes, somewhere between wanting to claw his eyes out together with the lenses and desperately trying to get the irritated tears to stop streaming down his cheeks. 

You were not even going to ask why he wore ‘cheap ass lenses’. Sometimes you just did not want to know. 

“ Come here”, you sighed and reached beside the couch towards the drawer. There you pulled out a hand sanitiser and squirted some foul-smelling liquid onto your hands before rubbing it in. “ Lay your head in my lap before I change my mind.” 

Chuuya did not need to be told twice. He dropped sideways, his body weight sprawling mostly on the couch with his head landing right in the middle of your lap with heavy, almost painful duns, knocking off his hat in the process. You glanced at it only briefly, feeling the tiniest bit of pity for the way it landed on the floor before you turned your attention back down to Chuuya. He had removed his hands from his bright red eyes, tears still streaming down his cheeks. 

The sight was pitiful, but the still burning rod of anger in you left little pity or warmth in your tone—just frustration at how childish he could be. Like an oversized five-year-old, “ You know you did that to yourself, right?” you muttered as you leaned over him and raised your clean fingers towards his eye. He didn’t even flinch, though his sensitive eye twitched several times as you touched the bottom edge of the lens and slid it downward, pinching it ever so slightly off his eye. It popped out without much difficulty;  “ Your eyes are damned sensitive to everything, and you thought it was a fantastic idea to pop some lenses in?” 

“ Come on, babydoll, have mercy” he pleaded as you purposefully took a long moment to discard the first lens before reaching towards his second eye to repeat the process. Once done, Chuuya let out a groan of relief before he wiped the last of the wetness off his cheeks. His eyes were red, irritated and likely hurt a lot, but they were already better than before you took the lenses out for him. 

Without another word; you motioned for him to sit up. Then you stood up and confidently walked towards the bin, discarding the lens. Instead of returning to the couch, you picked up your forgotten phone and reminisced wine from the couch table. 

“ Sweetheart-”

“ No Chuuya, you get the couch. So just stay there and think about your behaviour!” you grumbled, then yelped as you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards until your ass once again made contact with the soft leather. A little maneuvering, some gravity manipulation and you were sandwiched between the back of the couch and Chuuya, his hot breath hitting your ear, his arms cuddling you closer to his chest. 

“ Fair enough, Sweetheart, but you never said I had to sleep alone”, he purred, a smirk evident in his words as he began pressing kisses all over your skin. If apologies and explanations couldn’t pacify your anger, then maybe this will…  

Author note:  This fic was inspired by the following dress. So if I had to see it, so do you. No, but honestly, re-reading the comments on the independent part one of the fic made me want to write something that wasn’t cheating but also equally complicated. IDK if I succeeded but ehh I had fun. Hope you did too

Until next time 

Raven 

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[ravencincaide]

And the truth is out 

Summary: A shitty day at work seems like the end of the world until fate dropped something even more horrendous into your lap. OR the time you saw Chuuya cry, 

Inspired by and dedicated to my friend: @chuuyaswifeandhoe Thank you sweetheart for letting me steal your idea and turn it into something less fluffy, and more bitter sweet <3. Hope you enjoy whatever my tipsy mind came up with in an hour. 

PS: A Fenodyree is a supernatural creature often fairy or fae, often hairy and messy in appearance but with great strengths.

Warnings: Cursing, drinking,  light angst rash decisions, guilt and tears,

Enjoy~ ______________________________________________________________

There was nothing like the relief you felt as you dragged your tired body through the front door; pulling one heavy leg in front of the other one. You tugged your bag somewhere behind you, dragging the large thing over the dirty ground. Your keys were dangling from a single finger, just long enough for you to get through the door and close it behind you, before they fell to the floor. You stared at them for a second, sighed, then continued with your task of coming home; you shrugged your coat off your shoulders before grasping it in one hand. Reaching a heavy arm up you attempted to hang it on its usual hook, but missed, making it drop to the floor in a messy pile.

Fuck it, let it be, you decided grimly and threw your bag on top of the coat as if that had been your intention from the very beginning. Then you kicked your shoes off, one landing on top of your coat sleeve while the other hit the shoe stand and bounced off it landing somewhere in the middle of the hallway. 

Screw it too, you would be damned if you were going to go and deal with all that now. 

Your feet padded against the wooden floors of your two storied mansion full of latest designs treds and expensive decorations. None of which you cared for at that very moment. Not having the energy to walk yourself upstairs to the bedroom, you moved towards the couch in the living room, grabbing one of Chuuya’s wines on your way. You flopped down inelegantly onto it and sat cross-legged as you fought with the cork, cursing the damned thing until it finally gave away. Then you tossed it somewhere in the general direction of the trashcan before you brought the bottle to your lips. A sweet red wine with just a hint of tartness filled your senses, a gentle comfort which reminded you of your fiance. Just as sweet as he was, and just as bitter as the distance between you. 

How long was it since he left for a job in Hokkaido? A month? four months? At this point you had already lost count- each day feeling as bleak and fleeting at the previous one. Each moment was as sad as the one before. A mundane routine of work, home, chores and sleep. 

Well not anymore. 

The notion made you bring the bottle back to your lips and take another deep clunk. From tomorrow- no from that very evening your routines had changed.  And you did not know how you were going to handle that. Half a bottle later you set it back onto the couch table and dropped more comfortably onto the familiar leather. Your eyes stared up into the ceiling, your body craved sleep while your mind refused to give you such mercy. 

A tiny voice in your head purred how you got exactly what you deserved; this was what happened to someone as incompetent as yourself pretending to play at the grown-ups table. While another voice- much quieter one- tried to reassure you that everyone made mistakes now and again. Even if your mistakes were larger than most peoples and were definitely going to follow you until the end of your days. Competent adult, your ass, you mused to yourself. Finally closing your eyes as you felt the familiar sting behind the eyelids. 

How much more humiliating could this get? 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, sprawled out on the couch, bringing the bottle of strong wine to your lips ever so often in a feeble attempt to drown all the unpleasant emotion. God why did this have to be you? 

You flinched as you heard the lock of the front door open and turned away from it. It was just your luck that Chuuya would return the second you fell to your absolute worst. That he’d make it home not one of the days when everything was in order; clean, washed, dinner ready and you looked like a candy. No, he had to return the one night when you could very well be mistaken for a Fenodyree. You dropped your arm over your eyes and silently prayed that if you stayed still and quiet, then Chuuya would be too tired to notice your presence in the living room and just stumble upstairs to the bed. 

By morning, you’d sober up, shower and have a pleasant, civilized conversation along with a warm welcome home. A picture perfect greeting, and all of that. As long as it was tomorrow. 

“ Sweetheart, I know you’re awake” you heard Chuuya’s voice followed by the gentle shuffling of feet as he slowly approached the couch you were laying on. You feigned sleep, still holding into the hope that he would not notice your condition. Prayed that he’d satisfy himself by pressing a kiss to your forehead, a gentle touch of your hair, before leaving the difficult subjects until the following morning. You hoped in vain. 

“ I’m sorry sweetheart” Chuuya mumbled as he took a seat at the edge of the couch, close enough so you could feel his weight and warmth but far enough that he wouldn’t touch you. “ I did not intend for you to find out this way” his hand was inches away from your own. It looked like he wanted to take it but stopped himself. As if he didn’t have the right to do that anymore.  

A frown graced your lips and you dropped your arm away from your eyes and stared into his mournful blue ones. You watched him swallow heavily, his fist clutched in his lap; “ I’m so fucking sorry” he cursed a second time as if it would convey his regret. 

“ Why are you apologizing?” you asked, feeling your cheeks flush red. But if it was embarrassment, shame or alcohol you couldn’t quite tell. “ If anything I should be the one to be sorry; it was my fault it happened.” 

“ Don’t you dare take the blame!” Chuuya’s voice went up an octave, his fist shaking in his lap from how hard he was squeezing it. “ Don’t you fucking dare blame yourself. It was  wholeheartedly my fault- I put myself in that situation– and it had nothing, NOTHING; to do with you!” 

You frowned more and moved to sit up, that way you could see him more clearly. The room was spinning; your heart pounded in your chest. A sense of dread- no realization washed over you and you just had to make sure you were talking about the same thing. “ I got into a fight at work and got fired on the spot, what were you apologizing for?” you asked, a hint of alarm in your voice. 

“ I.. ehhh” Chuuya cut himself off rather lamely before he ran his hand over his face; between the black leather of his glove and the shade of his top hat there was little of his expression that you could see. But even from this distance you could tell it was riddled with guilt and regret. “ I think this calls for something stronger than wine Y/N” his voice sounded heavy in the dull silence. 

“ Chuuya, what did you do?” You whispered your eyes staring at the normally cocky man who looked so tortured, so uncharacteristically small. “ What the hell did you do?!” 

You watched in horror as tears, actual tears, rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t face you, he had no right to anymore. Still you deserved an explanation, no matter how painful t was for him to admit to you what he did; “ I love you sweetheart and as I did it you and only you were on my mind.” 

And as he quietly admitted his sins all you could do was gape in pain and horror. 

[ravencincaide]

When the dead talk

Summary:  Sometimes you wonder whether Dazai seeks you out because of your ability or if there is an obsessive element to your encounters. Either way as long as he keeps his part of the deal, you’ll make the dead talk for him. OR the real reason Dazai is always dirt poor. 

Pairing: Necromancer!reader x  Dazai

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 19: Teeth Brushing 

Warnings: This is a somewhat morbid and contains: Necromancy, toxic-unhealthy relationship, hint at suicide (lets face it, it’s BSD and Dazai!), hint at Odasaku, cursing,  

Polish polish polish bones, grimy bones, dirty bones 

Polish polish human bones, my fair lady

You ran the slim blush over each and every tooth; first the top ones. You paid  extra attention to the canines. Then down the jawline and up to the second row of teeth. There you scrubbed a little harder to brush away the dirt that got in between the crevasse. You changed brushes several times; first the normal toothbrush, then onto a different thin one and then into an even thinner one. Each one able to get more easily into the crooks and gaps. 

Once satisfied you went back to brushing the jawline, focused on removing any of the dirt gathered there before you  flipped the skull over. You did a similar meticulous job of cleaning the underside. Being thorough to remove soil and all the other nastiness from the precious bone. Under your breath, you were humming the tune of “London bridge is falling down”, though you replaced the words of the familiar nursery rhyme with more bone related appealing lyrics. That was until you heard the metal door far above open, while its hinges squealed loudly in protest. The sound made you lose yourself in the made-up lyrics; a groan of annoyance making it past your lips. 

“ Was that really necessary?” you whined as the worn out dress shoes made an irregular tip-tapping sound against the concrete floors. 

“ Still working donna?” was the reply you got instead. The voice was neither warm nor icy, something lukewarm. It grew closer, the steps tipp tapping away until they came up right behind you. A bony bandage-clad hand placed a paper bag with a take away container and some other items beside you. The hand lingered there for a moment longer, waiting until you fully acknowledged the generous gift he brought you. When you didn’t, the hand snapped upwards, grabbed your face and twisted it to the side. 

Face to face with the young devil. 

 “ I told you to be done by the time I arrived.” Dazai’s expression was displeased, raw chewed lips turned downwards into a frown. The hand on your chin tightened; no doubt tomorrow you would wake up with finger-shaped bruises on your skin. 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you replied back, meeting his hollow gaze with your unafraid one. Still your hands slowly lowered the skull you worked on onto the table, the gentle clang of bone against metal seemed to snap him back into reality. He gave you another warning look before he shoved your face away from himself.  

You danced away; twirled to the opposite side of the otherwise tiny room and the metal sink placed there. Hands reached for the soap, scrubbed at the dirt and pieces of flesh before running your digits under ice cold water. You were not about to dig into much needed dinner with dirty hands- even you had standards.You held them there until you lost feeling; skin red- almost blue from the cold. Then you turned the water off with your elbow, while you wiped your hands onto a nearby paper towel, Then back you went towards Dazai and the paper bag he had gotten for you. 

“ Awwe Rice on Tea again?” your smile dropped as you opened the half-cold container. “ C’mon really? Even prisoners get more variety than this!” 

Dazai chuckled at your reply, a humorless sound at your choice of words, while his eyes watched your every move with hawk like dedication. Dazai tried to look unbothered, tried to hide the itch in his hand and the frustration which brewed in the pit of his stomach.  “This is plenty in return for your services” he replied stiffly. 

You dug your chopsticks in, twirling the half soggy rice around the plastic bowl. Then brought a grain to your lips. Although tasty the food left you to craving a new blend; “ I bet Port Mafia’d give more” 

“ You’re not cut out for Port Mafia” Dazai growled, his one uncovered eye narrowed. Just daring you to continue this conversation. You knew he wouldn’t kill you- but that did not mean starvation and torture was off the table. “ You're still too weak; its safer here” 

I don’t share.

That was what he was actually saying. The underlying threat right there; care twisted into sadism with you balanced on a thin beam between. One wrong step and begging for mercy would be the least of your worries. Setting the food back down, your eyes shifted onto the rest of the bones beside the human skull you had spent the last few hours cleaning. Your fingers reached out towards the femur and you picked it up with interest “ Can I keep these?” 

“ No.” he answered in a heartbeat. “ Not these ones” 

You frowned and turned to face him. A pout on your lips “ Oh come on, pretty please. I already do so much for you and you get me so little in return” you moved closer, practically in his face.

“ I SAID no!” You tightened your grip on the bone, the brittle thing beginning to crack in your grasp. The sound made Dazai snapp, his hand moved faster than your mind could register. But you knew what he’d do; whenever he got emotional he was so much easier for you to read. 

“ Ahh ahh ahh marvelous, are you gonna shoot me? Let this ugly flesh rot away until my sceletton can join the others, to be feasted on by vermints and rats, or tossed outside as vulture food. Please hurry up, you’re getting me all so excited” you clasped your hands and held them cutely to the right side of your face, tilting your head to the side and giving him long flaps of eyelashes.  The sight might have looked cute- endearing even were it not for the bone covered in dirt and half rotten flesh clasped in between your hands. 

You were flirting with death; literary. 

“ Do that again and I’ll shoot you to pieces, inch by inch” Dazai hissed in warning, nudging the gun closer to your temple. You grinned in response, yet your grin dropped the second he whacked you with the weapon. 

“ Holy fucking shit- ouch!” you yelped as you took a step back, your back hitting the metal table, adding insult to injury. Your head clasped in your hands; part in actual pain and part in a feeble attempt to guilt a softer responsible- a gentle reaction out of him. 

Seeing right through your act, Dazai took a step closer, almost suffocating you with his murderous aura.  The look in his eyes told you, you were going to regret pushing and toying with him. “ How long until you’re done?” Dazai barked, not a sign of the usual softness he’d use whenever he wanted something out of you. 

You were unbothered by it; neither his loudness nor the gun in his hand scared you any longer. You could see that the rage was there to hide the more vulnerable emotion; longing, fear and desire. Human emotion not reserved for the demon protege. 

“ Hmmm about an hour” you answered without even flinching as he slammed his gun against the metal table behind you, right beside the remains, careful of them, less careful of your hand.

“ An hour? I told you to get this finished before I come!” 

“ You pay peanuts, you get monkeys” you repeated a second time, softer this time. You watched the infuriated emotion pass over his face, then saw it twist into something almost gentle. A caring seductive look that did not suit this terrible man. 

“ You disappoint me Bella,” his voice a silky purr, a heart-wrenching sigh; his body in your space again. Arms on either side of you, head bowed to rest on your shoulder. “ I thought you weren’t going to do that” he turned his head to the side, hot breath fanning your neck. 

You barely resisted a shiver, then felt your knees grow weak as his lips landed on your skin, right above your pulse. You could feel his smile as he pressed more open mouth kisses. Making your mind a jumbled mess, your body an involuntary respondent to his advances. 

God this man was a demon; a monster who played you like a flute. 

You gasped, your head thrown back as his teeth nipped at your skin. Your knees shook, growing weaker with every touch; “ ahh h-he is w-waiting in the other room.”

At your words Dazai let out a low hum, finally stopping his assault on your skin. When he pulled back, he wore a smile. The kind of sweet hopeful look that was not reserved for you. 

Never you. 

You felt his finger tap your nose, bringing your mind back to reality. “ Make sure you keep it up for longer this time, and you’ll be well rewarded” Dazai flashed you a smirk and then stepped away from you. There was a slight skip in his step, a humm that wasn’t there before as he moved towards the door on the opposite side of the room; a bottle of whiskey he swiped from the paperbag in one hand and two glasses in another.  

You heard the door open; Dazai’s sing-song voice calling out “Odasaku~” and a less pleased reply before the door slammed shut. Keeping you out locked out of their conversation, yet just close enough that your ability wouldn’t fade. Not like you would be going anywhere; not when his kisses had turned your body to jelly. 

A dirty yet very effective trick. 

But it was okay; as long as Dazai kept his part of the deal, you did not mind making the dead sing for him. 

Author note: An anon asked if i'd be posting more Dazai fics. And my answer is basically this. Another one with unclear dynamic between reader and Dazai but still I hope you enjoyed,