#so eternally jealous of people that got to see that live

[rendnotmyheart]

God, if you told me a month ago I would be knee-deep in a Grantaire and subsequently Grantaire/Enjolras and subsequently Enjolras obsession.....

[greengoblinswifey]

could you do a story where frontman is readers sugar daddy, please and thank you I ❤️ your writing.

Luxury & Lies— Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Being In-ho’s sugar baby came with luxuries beyond your wildest dreams. You never questioned where his wealth came from, only cared about what you could get out of him. But when you stumbled upon the truth, the Squid Game and the power he held as the Front Man, you knew exactly how to use it to your advantage. And In-ho? He’d do anything to keep you.

warnings— Sugar daddy!in-ho, manipulation, cunnilingus, body worship, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff.

a/n— Thank you and enjoy <3

Youth and beauty on the outside was not eternal, that being said, you were always one to use it to your advantage.

It was by using those assets that caused you to stumble upon Hwang In-ho. He was an older yet very attractive man and obviously very wealthy. You knew how to play the game right and the night you had met In-ho, you were seated in the lounge area of an upscale restaurant that was famous for transactions like this.

He slipped into the seat next to you, decked in an expensive suit and as soon as you flipped your hair and tilted your head, he was sold.

You didn’t have to say much, especially when it came to older men, you let him do the talking, you were just there to look pretty and get what you want. And you got way more than you bargained for being Hwang In-ho’s sugar baby.

In-ho always gave you what you wanted. That was the foundation of your arrangement. You asked, and he delivered—no questions, no hesitations. It started with luxury handbags and designer clothes and shoes, then first class trips and five star hotels, and before you knew it, you had an entire apartment paid for in your name and a collection of jewelry that could make royalty jealous.

Being with In-ho meant being spoiled, but it also meant playing your role. You were his eye candy at every event, the one in his arm in dresses he picked out for you, flashing a smile that made investors and business partners envious. You liked the life you lived, liked the way people looked at you when you walked into a room together.

You never questioned how he could afford it all. What did it matter? You weren’t with him for his morality, you were with him for what he could give you.

But then you found out.

It had been an accident, really. You were in his office at the penthouse, bored and nosy, and you stumbled across a locked drawer in his desk. He always kept things private, but this was different, the secrecy intrigued you. So you looked until you found the key, expecting maybe some business documents or an old affair he never wanted you to know about.

You didn’t expect tapes.

Or the footage of people being slaughtered.

You sat frozen, watching clips from the so called Squid Game, men and women gunned down like animals, the screams piercing even through the speakers of his monitor. And there, in the midst of it all, was him—your sugar daddy, the man who paid for your lifestyle, standing over it all in that black mask.

The Front Man.

The truth settled like ice in your veins, but strangely, you weren’t horrified. You were curious.

For the first time since meeting In-ho, you had leverage.

So, you confronted him.

You remembered the way he looked at you when you brought it up. The sharp inhale. The slight flinch. He had tried to keep you in the dark for a reason, because, deep down, he feared this exact moment.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah?” You folded your arms. “Well, I did.”

A pause. A long, heavy silence. And then, a confession. He admitted everything. How long he had been in charge. What the games really were. The money, the power, the control.

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he said eventually, looking down. “I won’t stop you.”

That was the moment you could have walked away. Should have, maybe. But you had no intention of leaving.

Instead, you put on a show, acted like you needed time, like you were shaken and unsure. Let him panic, let him compensate.

And, oh, did he compensate.

A brand new penthouse apartment, yours, fully paid for. A car, your dream model, delivered to your doorstep. Cash in your account, a credit card linked to his bank account. Jewelry, vacations, an all expenses paid trip with your homegirls on his private jet, all while he stayed behind, giving you space.

He only texted you once.

“Let me know when you're ready to talk.”

When you had everything you wanted, you decided it was time.

The night you returned, he was already waiting in your penthouse, standing by the windows with a glass of whiskey.

“You look beautiful,” he said, scanning your outfit like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, which he hadn’t. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was perfect,” you said, slipping off your coat and letting it drop onto the couch. “Thanks to you.”

He exhaled softly, nodding. “And are you ready to talk?”

“I am,” you said as you walked toward him slowly, heels clicking against the floor.

He tensed. You could see it in the way his fingers curled slightly against the glass, like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“You kept a huge secret from me, In-ho,” you murmured, stopping just inches away. “That’s not something I can just forgive overnight.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“I bet you are.” You reached for his tie, giving it a gentle tug. “But sorry isn’t enough. You have to earn my trust again.”

His breathing hitched. “Anything,” he murmured, voice low. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

You smiled, slow and sultry. “Good,” you said, stepping backward toward the bedroom. “Then follow me.” And just like that, he did.

You led him across the penthouse, never looking back, because you didn’t need to, you could feel his presence behind you, could feel the heat of his stare. By the time you reached the bedroom, you stopped at the edge of the bed, tilting your head just slightly over your shoulder.

He was watching you with hungry, dark eyes, scanning every inch of you. And then, you let yourself fall back against the silk sheets, stretching out, parting your legs to make your point.

His breath came uneven. “You—”

“You said you’d do anything,” you murmured, hooking a leg around his waist and pulling him closer. “Show me.”

Something inside him snapped.

He was on you in seconds, his hands gripping you, lips crashing against yours with a desperation you had never felt from him before. He wasn’t just indulging you—he was proving himself.

For the rest of the night, he did exactly that.

Because at the end of the day, you always got what you wanted.

The second In-ho had you beneath him, it was like something inside him broke loose. His hands were at your clothes in an instant, fabric tearing under his grip as he stripped you naked. The sound of ripping seams filled the air, followed by a sharp gasp from you as cool air met your skin.

“In-ho—”

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dark eyes flickering over you like he was soaking up every inch to memory.

His lips were on you before you could respond, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts. His lips were everywhere, like he was trying to worship and make it up to you.

Then he was lower, his mouth pressing against your stomach, his hands holding you steady as you squirmed.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, breath catching.

“Look at you,” he groaned. “So perfect. Always so goddamn perfect for me.”

And then, he had you unraveling.

The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy had your back arching, fingers twisting into the sheets as pleasure shot through you like lightning. He moaned against you, gripping your thighs to hold you still, but you couldn’t—not when he was devouring you like this, like he had been starved for you.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against your pussy, pressing a kiss between every stroke of his tongue. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You barely heard him past the pleasure that built and built with every expert movement of his mouth. He was relentless, slow at first, savoring you, but when he felt you tense, when he heard the way you gasped his name, he tightened his grip and ravished you with ferocity that had your legs shaking.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

And when you finally came, when you cried out so loud you swore the whole city could hear, he only held you through it, kissing your thighs, whispering praises against your heated skin.

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, pressing a lingering kiss just below your navel. “So beautiful. So good for me.”

In-ho didn’t stop. Even after you were left trembling beneath him, after your breath was still shaky and your body tingled from the aftershocks, he kept kissing you, soft presses of his lips against your skin.

“You're everything,” he murmured between kisses, trailing from your chest to your lips. “More than I deserve.”

The way you shivered when his fingers brushed your breasts, the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss just below your chest. He worshiped you, whispering apologies against your skin.

“Forgive me,” he said, forehead resting against yours. “For everything. For keeping things from you, for being selfish enough to want you despite it all.”

You cupped his face, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. “You're not losing me,” you promised softly, and the way his eyes darkened told you he believed you—but he needed to prove himself anyway.

His mouth found yours in a desperate kiss, hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you. You felt him—all of him, hard and heavy against your thigh.

Another thing about In-ho? He was the full package. The biggest you’d had, the biggest you probably ever would have, and he knew exactly how to use it.

He smirked at the way you swallowed hard, his hands skimming down your sides, teasing, making you wait.

“You always act like such a brat,” he murmured, pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck. “Like you don’t need me.” His hand wrapped around your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But then I get you like this, and you melt for me.”

“In-ho,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he murmured, dragging it out, making you feel every inch of his cock as he slowly pressed against your folds. “Let me take care of you.”

And when he finally gave in, when he finally stopped teasing and claimed you, it was deep, slow, possessive. He worshiped you, murmuring praises against your lips, against your skin. He filled you inch by inch, your pussy quivering around him.

“You're perfect,” he groaned. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his back, legs tightening around him as he pulled you closer, right on his dick. Every slow, deep stroke unraveled you, and he felt everything, the way you clung to him, the way you gasped his name like a prayer.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed, pressing his forehead to yours. “Give it to me. Cum.”

And when you finally did, when you cried out and your body tensed beneath him, he held you through it, his own breath ragged, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let you go.

He didn’t pull away right away—just kissed you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. Soon, you felt the rush of his cum filling you up and his soft moans in your ear.

“Mine,” he murmured against your skin. “You’re mine.”

In-ho never just left you after. That wasn’t who he was.

No matter how intense things got, no matter how desperate or needy, he always made sure to take care of you after.

Tonight was no different.

He pressed a kiss to your temple before slipping away, only to return moments later with a warm cloth. He handled you carefully, murmuring soft praises as he cleaned you up, whispering apologies when you flinched from sensitivity. His touch was steady, so unlike the man who ran the most brutal game in existence. With you, he was different.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, running a hand down your thigh as he finished.

You nodded sleepily, reaching for him. “Mhm.”

That was all he needed to hear. He tossed the cloth aside and pulled you into his arms, shifting until you were resting on his chest, his fingers tracing circles into your skin.

“I’ll prove myself to you every day,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here for you.”

You hummed in response, half asleep against him, but he knew you heard him.

That was something about In-ho, you knew this arrangement was transactional, but there was something deeply intimate in the way he held you after, in the way he needed to keep you close, like he was afraid you’d slip away in the night.

Even now, his grip on you was firm.

“You’re so good to me,” you mumbled, fingertips skimming his jaw.

“You deserve it,” he murmured, eyes half lidded as he looked down at you. “And more.”

He held you like that for the rest of the night, whispering sweet nothings, pressing lazy kisses to your hair. You didn’t need to say it out loud, but you both knew, no matter how complicated things were, he wasn’t letting you go.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WERE WE BETTER UNKNOWN?

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your story with dazai comes to a close... but is it really the end?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. oh my god i have so much to say, i will put it all at the end. but i am so annoyed because the heart in the title looks wonky as hell—for some reason it looks fine on desktop but on mobile it’s fucked ip :’) comments & reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. mentions of past suicide attempts (dazai). non-sexual nudity/intimacy. reader has 1 scar that dazai points out.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai dreams of a vast frozen lake.

Is he dreaming? He’s not sure. It’s cold, he shouldn’t be cold in dreams, right? 

He lets out a shaky breath, and he can see the cool air fan around him. He shivers, hands running up and down his arms to try to warm himself up, but it’s futile—the snow that flutters from the sky is sharp against his skin and the air is bitterly cold, but the wind is oddly still. Eerily still. His shoes crunch against the snowy bank as he draws a bit closer to the edge of the lake, trying to figure out where he is.

“... are we going to…”

Dazai startles at the vaguely familiar whispery voice, eyes wide and searching as he looks around trying to pinpoint who had spoken, but there’s no one in sight. He can hardly see

Hell, he thinks dizzily, is he in hell?

Dazai’s fascination with literature began with his fascination with death. It started as a child—morbid and odd as it might’ve been, he was bored with life. He supposes that it’s part of the reason why his siblings didn’t like him, besides his ability, of course. He always had questions that people couldn’t answer—what happens after someone dies? They go to heaven, honey, his mother would reply. How do you know that? We just do. But how? What if we don’t? What if we just die? Stop asking so many creepy questions, Osamu, his sister would snap at him, curling into his mother’s side. But what-

He would keep asking until his sister got visibly upset and his mother had to take her out of the room. He never really understood why—they were legitimate questions—but his mother’s evasion of the topic and his siblings’ aversion did not deter his curiosity. In fact, when the first of his cousins died at the hands of one of his others, it spiked his curiosity. He almost found himself jealous that they would have the answers to the questions that have been plaguing him for years.

His questions of self-worth and his place here on earth didn’t come until he was a bit older, but he supposes at some point they probably merged together. His own doubts about himself and his lack of normalcy compared to other people led to his general fascination with death slowly turning into fascination about his own death. He found it quite ironic, and maybe a bit disheartening—he can’t even die correctly—that of all of the many members of his family, the one obsessed with death was the one that survived the longest, in spite of actively striving for eternal rest.

His fascination with death was put to an abrupt halt by Odasaku’s arrival in his life. Or well, that’s not exactly right. His fascination with his own death was put to a halt—Odasaku humored all of his questions, even if some of his answers were absurd and nonsensical, but when Dazai tried to spin the conversation back to himself, Odasaku would put his foot down. 

Dazai only tried to kill himself once while he was living with him—it was around when Odasaku first took him in, and Dazai didn’t think the man would care all too much if he was gone. Ango was the one who found him in the bathroom, funny enough it was his first time meeting the other man, but when he woke up in the hospital, Dazai decided he never wanted to see that haunted expression on Odasaku’s face ever again. 

It was around then when Odasaku started telling him about his book, and he helped redirect Dazai’s unhealthy fascination with death to a different outlet: literature. The Divine Comedy, the Aeneid, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice—it was Odasaku who introduced him to them all. He enjoyed reading other peoples’ interpretation of the afterlife; he and Odasaku would have full blown debates over which interpretation was nearest to truth. 

Dazai isn’t particularly convinced there is an afterlife at all, but he always thought that if there was one, it might look most like Dante Alighieri’s vision. 

Like this. 

“... can’t just stop, he’ll never let it be…”

This voice isn’t unfamiliar. Dazai’s head snaps up, eyes wide and searching as he tries to seek you out. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from all around him—the wind carries it, he can’t tell where you are and the icy air makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open to try to track you down. The wind is strange though; it stops blowing all around him, and instead begins billowing inward toward the center of the lake.

A foreboding feeling suddenly settles over Dazai.

Lake Cocytus—if this is what Dazai thinks it is, then it’s meant to represent the Ninth Circle. Treachery. A little ironic, maybe, considering loyalty is what got Dazai killed—your loyalty to the Port Mafia. 

Is he dead? He realizes suddenly that he very well might be, not quite as pleased with the idea as he might’ve been in the months before he met you. He feels… unfulfilled almost. He never finished Odasaku’s book. He didn’t even manage to get his degree. He felt what it was like to be loved for a few months, but it wasn’t enough. He’d wanted more. He wanted a life with you. 

He still wants a life with you, he thinks miserably. Even after everything that happened, he still wants it.

He must not be dead, he thinks absently, kicking at the snow on the banks of the lake before slowly treading out toward the center of it. If he was dead and really in the Ninth Circle of Hell, then he’d be stuck in the lake with the rest of the betrayers. Although, Dazai thinks if he really was going to hell, it wouldn’t be this circle—he doesn’t think he’s ever really betrayed anyone to this degree.

Or maybe he did, his thoughts take another dejected turn. Would his ‘betrayal’ to you count? It’s not like he actively tried to deceive you, so he thinks he should be given some leeway. But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, if he’s here because he deceived you, then you would certainly be here for betraying him—he wouldn’t mind being stuck in hell if you were there with him. You both could be buried in the ice together, eternally frozen and suffering for betraying each other. 

It’s kind of romantic, if you really think about it.

Something bubbles in his chest—maybe a laugh, or maybe a sob, he can’t tell, he thinks maybe he’s a bit hysterical. 

It must just be a dream, he thinks again for some minimal solace. Or maybe a warning, maybe he’s somewhere caught in-between and God is striking down his hammer, warning him this is where he’s going to end up if he doesn’t change his ways like the message of the Divine Comedy itself.

The thought makes him laugh.

He sobers up quickly though as he starts his trek across the lake, thinking that maybe if he got to the other side, or the center, he’d wake up. He thinks you would find this funny—one of your first conversations with him had been about The Divine Comedy, and he spent many nights at dinner roping you into conversation about it, and convincing you to read some of the other books and poems that Odasaku had introduced him to. You-

“... one life or hundreds, that’s what he said…”

Dazai nearly slips on the ice when he hears your voice again, looking around as if you would just magically appear around him. You don’t, but it does leave Dazai a little disheartened hearing you repeat the words that Mori had said to convince you to kill him. He sighs as he keeps his gaze trained ahead, careful to not look down at the ice lest he find himself looking at something he would rather not.

The outskirts of the water were the traitors to kin—Dazai remembers that well. The first time he read the poem, he realized that this is where the majority of his cousins and older brothers would be. They spent almost two years killing each other for their grandfather’s inheritance; Dazai went from having seven siblings and almost two dozen cousins to three siblings and a handful of cousins by the time of the coup.

Traitors to country in the next section—Dazai thinks a bit gleefully that Mori would end up there. The Port Mafia isn’t exactly a city or country, but it’s still an entity, and Mori certainly betrayed it when he killed Dazai’s grandfather in his own bed, no matter what the reason for it might be.

Traitors to guests in the next section—this gives Dazai a bit of pause, he doesn’t know if he knows anyone that would fit in that section. Ui, maybe? Inviting him to work with his journalism house only to give him up to the Guild. Maybe Mori again, Dazai thinks, highly amused, because Dazai was a guest to you, and therefore, the Port Mafia, when everything happened. 

And the last section—traitors to benefactors. He can’t avoid looking at them; they’re the only ones above the surface of the lake, grotesque sculptures of ice that decorate the surface of the center of the lake. His steps slow as he walks through them all, a heavy feeling settling over him as his gaze focuses on the oddly familiar sculpture in the very center of the lake.

Is that-

“There’s only one way this ends.”

Dazai’s breath catches sharply. He slips on the ice as he rushes forward, eyes widening and hands flying forward to catch himself, but his stomach lurches painfully and before his hands can hit the ground-

Dazai sits up with a ragged gasp, eyes wild and nails digging into the fabric of the soft couch he’s laying on. His head is aching and he feels sluggish; he’s still reeling from what he’d just woken up from, but his heart rate is starting to calm down.

Just a dream, he confirms, but now he’s more preoccupied with trying to figure out where the hell he is and why he isn’t dead, because the last thing he remembers is you lifting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. The room he’s in is small—there’s no windows, there’s a tiny kitchen on the left side of the room, and on the other side-

“Everyone out.”

Dazai’s gaze settles on you. You’re standing near the far wall—you haven’t changed from what you were wearing at the conference room with the other Port Mafia executives, and Dazai can see Ace’s blood still crusted around your finger nails and splattered on your shirt. Your gaze is focused on him, an unreadable expression on your face, and Dazai is so tunnel visioned on you that he hardly notices that there are a handful of other people in the room: your three subordinates, Nakahara Chuuya, Albatross and one other who had been at the fight against the Guild.

They don’t argue with you, most of them file out of the room without a word, only Albatross and Chuuya linger. The ginger gives you a long look before saying, “We’ll buy some more time. Just… figure out if this is really what you want to do, okay?”

You finally look away from him at Chuuya’s words, cringing and averting your gaze to the ground. You say quietly, “It doesn’t matter what I want. It has to be done.”

Chuuya sighs but nods, motioning for Albatross to leave with him—and then the two of you are left alone. You don’t approach him. Ironically, you look like the one akin to a cornered animal as if you hadn’t been the one to shoot him. If anyone should feel like a cornered animal right now, it should be him.

Instinctively, he lifts his hand to his forehead, frowning at the bandages wrapped around the top of his head. He looks back up at you curiously, but you grimaced and looked away as soon as he touched his forehead, so he can’t catch your eye.

He has a million questions he wants to ask. What happened? Why didn’t the bullet kill me? Why didn’t you kill me? Did you believe me? Do you believe me? Are we okay?

Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer to the last question, so he settles with: “Where are we?” 

Though you’d stiffened as soon as his lips parted to speak, you relax when you hear the question he asked.

“A safe house in Sakae,” you say quietly. Dazai starts to sit up but his vision swims so he has to stop and rest back down against the arm of the couch, blinking furiously. “You should take it easy… You’re probably going to feel a bit off for a couple of hours.”

Dazai is about to ask you what exactly happened, but the words die on his lips when you finally draw closer to him. You sit down on the couch next to where he’s laying, your body brushes his and Dazai feels warm. The remnants of the frigid cold of his dream vanishes as soon as the warmth of your body grazes his—he knows that there are many things that need to be addressed, but he would be content to avoid those topics and bask in your comfort for as long as he can. 

His eyes slide shut as you reach up to cup his cheek. He doesn’t even bother reopening them when he feels you lift your other hand to remove the bandages from around the top of his head—he thinks maybe he could almost doze back off. It’s only when you let out a soft sigh and fasten them back on does he finally bother to open his eyes again. 

“I don’t have enough bandages on me already?” he asks, his voice is light and the smile on his lips is teasing as he tries to lighten the mood a little, but it doesn’t work.

You don’t respond to his comment. You look down, and the small smile on your lips doesn’t meet your eyes, so his falls off his face as he stares up at you carefully and finally asks the much dreaded question that would lead to even more dreaded questions:

“Will you tell me what happened?”

--

“We need to go,” Chuuya says, hand wrapped around your wrist tightly. You don’t budge from where you’re standing, staring at where Dazai had fallen back over the edge. It was a short drop with mud softening the fall, he would be okay—if everything went according to plan, that is. Otherwise, the bullet you just shot at him killed him anyway, so the fall is inconsequential. “Come on. We can’t stay here. We have to go.”

“How do-”

“Not here,” Chuuya hisses. “Come on.”

“Chuuya-” you breathe out, voice wavering over his name. You can’t bring yourself to move even as Chuuya tries to drag you away. “Chuuya, I need to kn-”

Need to know if this worked. Need to know if he was able to stop the bullet. Need to know if you actually just killed the boy you’re in love with.

“Not here,” Chuuya replies, voice harsh, cutting you off before you can say anything more incriminating. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to follow him—he yanks you along with him, not even bothering to steady you when you stumble. You know you should snap yourself out of this, you know Mori has people trailing you to ensure you follow through with Dazai’s execution, but you’re haunted by the expression on his face when you pulled the trigger.

He accepted it.

You had the gun to his head. You asked him to forgive you. He said he did, and he accepted that he was about to die at your hands. A part of you is eager to convince yourself that maybe he saw through your plan, that he realized you weren’t going to kill him, but that look in his eyes…

He didn’t know, and he accepted it anyway.

Your stomach churns. The ragged breath you take in cuts off abruptly as you gag over it—you saw the blood, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t know if Dazai’s nullification ability prevented Chuuya from using his own ability to slow the bullet before it killed him. You don’t know if he fell backward because he was shot or because the high dosage sedative that you swiped from Mori’s office set in as quickly as it was supposed to. You don’t even know if Chuuya had been able to inject it in him with his ability. You don’t know anything.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” Chuuya mutters as he opens the car door and ushers you inside. 

Instead of sitting in the front with Albatross, he sits in the back with you, sharing a sharp look with Albatross before the other man finally pulls away from the ports. He still doesn’t say anything else—he knows better. This is one of the Port Mafia’s cars, tapped and actively being transmitted to one of Kouyou’s subordinates who will report to her and Mori anything that seems off, and you need to buy as much time as you possibly can before Mori realizes Dazai isn’t dead.

Because Dazai isn’t dead. He can’t be dead.

It worked. It all worked.

It had to have. 

Just as you expect, your phone rings as soon as the car starts moving. Mori has eyes on you—he was waiting for you to finish with the execution before calling. You’re certain that he’s going to send someone to check the body now; he doesn’t trust you to finish the job, not when something as fickle and unpredictable as love is involved. 

Klaus will have to be quick—you don’t even know if he was able to find a lookalike to kill so he could swap out the body. You only were able to give him a twenty, maybe thirty, minute heads up. Dazai is plain looking, yes, and the mud he dropped in should do some work at concealing his identity, but if Mori’s shadow sends him a picture to confirm the kill, the slim amount of time you hope to have bought with your fake out will be halved.

You stare down at the phone and let it ring once, twice, and finally on the third ring, you lift the phone to your ear and accept the call, waiting for Mori to speak.

“Has it been done?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice steady even if your fingers are trembling around the phone. “Do you need me back at headquarters?”

“No, I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you. You should get some rest. I have a meeting with Tolstoy in a bit anyway. I’ll meet with you tomorrow after I have tea with Elise-chan so you can debrief me on the meetings with the Guild,” Mori says easily, his tone is light and airy, and it makes you angry, because how dare he sound so flippant after what he just expected you to do. “... I’m sorry things had to end this way, dear. I’m proud of you. You did well.”

“I know,” you say tightly in response before hanging up and putting the phone back down in your lap. 

Chuuya watches you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything, and you stare ahead at the back of the driver’s seat. It’s a twenty-five minute drive from the ports in Naka to Sakae—for better or for worse, it’s going to be a quiet one. For better because you think you might start crying if you have to speak, and for worse because now all you’re plagued with is your own thoughts and the image of Dazai’s face before you shot him.

You didn’t shoot him. Not really.

But you did, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t even know if Chuuya knows if he was able to stop it. There was a splatter of blood. You saw that, and there shouldn’t have been blood if this worked, so the worst case scenario looms over you heavily. But you won’t know until you get to the safe house—until you hear from Klaus. Your breath hitches over a sob you’re forced to swallow; your chest burns and tightens uncomfortable.

You had to do it, this was the only option. Anything else and there was no shot he wouldn’t have been killed. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he would be killed. You wouldn’t be able to protect him from Mori otherwise—he would’ve put a hit out on him, and Dazai would have all of the most dangerous assassins in the underworld out for him trying to get the bounty. You can’t protect him from that. You needed to buy time. You needed to buy time so you could-

You don’t finish the thought. 

You don’t think you’ve come to terms with what has to be done if you want to protect Dazai. A part of you doesn’t even know if you’ll be able to follow through with it, but you’ve already set yourself down the path of no return and you’ve dragged Chuuya down it along with you. Either you follow through, or the three of you are going to be on the run for the rest of your lives.

Shit.

Your gaze tracks back down to your phone. Still nothing from Klaus—nothing from Akutagawa either. The silence is too loud, each second that passes has you aching with a pain that feels like knives dragging against your bones. You just need to know, you need to know that he’s okay, that you didn’t-

You rest your forehead against the window when nausea builds back up in your stomach. It’s cool, and a welcome reprieve from the heaviness weighing down on you, but the moment your eyes slide shut, you’re faced with Dazai again and no amount of deep breathing and grounding techniques can stop the way your heart rate sky-rockets, breath becoming quick and shallow.

You see him. You see him, and he’s looking up at you, dark eyes wide and adoring as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him, and his lips part to say something but before he can, you see something thick and red trickling down his face over his lips, and suddenly something is weighing cold and heavy in your hand but you can’t bring yourself to look down at it, but you can’t drag your eyes from his face. Can’t hide yourself from the way his warm eyes are suddenly wide and glassy, void of all of the emotions that you’d just-

Your arm hurts—sharp and painful and so sudden that you’re dragged from the images haunting you. Your gaze cuts over to Chuuya, who’s giving you a concerned look. You realize he must’ve shifted over a bit, brushed his arm against yours to use his ability to jolt you out of your spiraling thoughts. When he realizes that you’re back in the present, he gives you a pointed look and then directs his gaze outside.

You’re almost there. How much time had passed?

Why hasn’t Klaus or Akutagawa reached out to you?

What is going on?

Albatross doesn’t stop in front of the safe house—there are too many cameras in the street and all of the Port Mafia’s cars are tracked. Instead, he takes a left on the next street because it’s one of the few without a red light camera and a blind spot on the corner. His gaze flickers up to the rearview mirror and he pointedly raises the volume of his shitty music a few decibels louder to cover the noise of the car doors opening and closing as you and Chuuya slip out when he stops at the red light.

You leave your phone in the car and you’re careful to avoid the camera near the bakery on the corner as you follow Chuuya around to the alley that leads to the back entrance of the safe house. It’s not a Port Mafia safe house—it was Itou’s. This was where he stayed in the few months during the Dragon’s Head Conflict where he was on his own, after he left Strain but before you recruited him to the Port Mafia. It was well hidden and well protected, you hadn’t been able to track him down here until he brought you here—he made sure that it was a blind spot in the Port Mafia’s ever-watchful eye over Yokohama, and you made sure to keep it that way once he was gone. 

It’s only once the steel door is shut behind you that you can finally speak, gaze focusing on Chuuya desperately as you wait for him to tell you if he was able to do it or if Dazai’s ability…

“Did you hear from Klaus or Akutagawa?” he asks quietly, and that’s enough of an answer.

He doesn’t know. 

You feel sick—your stomach lurches and you don’t know if you start to stumble toward the bathroom or the couch or straight to the floor, but it doesn’t matter because Chuuya is darting forward to grab you and guide you over to the couch.

“Chuuya, if I-” you start to say, your words are raspy and you can’t even bring yourself to finish them. “If I-”

“Don’t,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “Don’t bother going there yet. Wait for Klaus and Akutagawa.”

“But-”

“Stop,” he insists. “All you’re going to do is torture yourself.”

Isn’t that what you deserve? You want to say to him, nails digging into the palm of your hand so deep that it draws blood. Chuuya catches what you’re doing and immediately moves to unfurl your hands. Everything you’ve done. You killed Dazai’s family. His siblings. His cousins. You ruined his life, and then after everything, it wasn’t enough. You ruined his life and then you took-

“Hey, stop,” Chuuya interrupts your thoughts, clearly realizing what path they’re going down. You don’t realize your breath is ragged again until he grabs your chin and twists your head to force you to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t do this right now, we need to plan. We don’t have time, and when Klaus and Akutagawa get here with him, we need to know what we’re doing. You need to snap out of it.”

You don’t respond to him—your lashes flutter and you see Dazai again, you see blood, you see empty eyes, you see the gun in your hand, and you feel something warm and wet trickling over your cheeks. Chuuya spits out curses to himself and wipes away the tears streaming down your face. He’s gentle now, the rough grip on your chin disappears and is replaced with his hand cradling the back of your head as he pulls you closer to him. He presses your ear to his chest, hoping that the steady thrum of his heart is enough to ground you.

“Where the fuck are they?” he spits out more to himself than to you. His breath hitches and you can hear the stammering of his heart, and you know that he’s nervous, but he’s trying to hide it for your sake. “I need you here. What we just did-fuck-”

You try to snap out of it—you do, but every time you blink you see him. You see what you did. You knew this would happen from the very beginning, you knew it, and everyone warned you, but you’re selfish. You’ve always been so selfish.

You don’t know how much time passes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. It all blurs, it all feels like eternity, but eventually, the door to the safe house slams open, and only a handful of people know about it.

Your gaze snaps up, and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until Klaus steps into the room with a familiar figure slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Both of them are covered in various substances that you think you would rather not know what they are, but you can see the steady rise and fall of Dazai’s back. You rise to your feet abruptly and Chuuya lets out a relieved breath, shoulders slumping.

Klaus immediately points an accusing finger at you. “I had to hunt down a civilian, kill him, crawl through shit and trash with a dead body to swap it out for your boy, I had to carry him across half of the city, and I couldn’t even channel Mephisto because he nullifies him. You better not complain about any messes I make for the next six months,” Klaus demands, and then points wildly back toward a very clean Akutagawa, who casts an unimpressed look his way. “And he didn’t even help me. He stood there and watched.”

“I was ensuring that no one saw what we were doing,” Akutagawa replies primly. “Even more important than your job, considering if someone saw it would all be for naught. You should be thanking me.”

Klaus’s face goes red with anger as he whips around to face him and roars, “More important? Thank you?!”

You laugh. It’s so startling that all of the anger washes away from Klaus’s face and the goading expression on Akutagawa’s disappears. Or you think you laugh—you think you might be crying again too. Both boys look aghast by the sight of it, looking at each other as if waiting for the other to do something to make you stop.

Eventually, Klaus steps forward and unsurely tries to pass Dazai’s unconscious body over to you as if to try to make you feel better by shoving him in your arms. Chuuya slaps him hard over the back of the head causing him to yelp.

“Put him on the couch, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you passing him over to her like he’s a fucking stuffed animal?” Chuuya snaps, giving him a plainly judgemental look before resting his hand on your shoulder. 

Klaus looks disgruntled, but he does as Chuuya asks, laying Dazai down on the couch where you and Chuuya had just been sitting. You drop to your knees next to him, and the room is oddly silent as you look down at him. You don’t feel their gazes on you, so you assume they’re giving you privacy as best they can.

He looks… peaceful. You could almost imagine that you were coming home to him napping on your couch after he spent the whole night playing some stupid video game in your living room. You try to imagine that’s what this is, but the bloody indent in his forehead prevents you.

It almost broke through his skull.

He almost died.

You almost killed him.

You feel a bit sick as your fingers trace up to the wound on his forehead. It’s still bleeding, but his forehead is clean compared to the grime that covers the rest of his body. Klaus and Akutagawa must’ve had the brain to stop and clean the wound before it could get infected—that’s probably what took them so long.

You feel someone come to your side, glancing up to see Akutagawa hovering next to you with bandages in hand. He passes them over to you silently before quickly walking away. You let out a soft breath as you unwind the bandages, gently lifting his head so you can wrap them around his forehead. Immediately, they’re staining red—you grimace and look away.

The silence hanging over the room only lasts so long.

“What’s next?” Klaus asks quietly. “This won’t work for long. What’s the plan?”

Your gaze lowers as you rest your hand against Dazai’s cheek, memorizing his face as best as you can. The heaviness in your chest returns, and along with it, the damning reminder of your reality.

“I have to kill Mori.”

--

Dazai suddenly understands his dream.

“It’s the only option,” you say quietly when Dazai’s expression immediately twists at your words. Your eyes look so heavy and your expression is so crestfallen that it makes Dazai ache. His fingers twitch to reach out for you but you shift away, shaking your head. “It’s the only option, Osamu. It has to be done.”

“But-”

“He tried to have me kill you,” you snap, and he almost rolls his eyes because he doesn’t need reminding of that. He’s abundantly aware of the fact that he almost died at your hands because of Mori. He refrains if only barely. “Why do you care about what happens to him?”

“He’s your father,” Dazai says, watching as you go stiff. He knows he might’ve just made a mistake saying that, but he doesn’t even know if you fully understand the gravity of all of this or if you’re just running off heightened emotions right now. “I don’t care about him, he can go fuck off and die for all I care. I care about you-“

“He’s not my father,” you spit out, voice tight, “and maybe you shouldn’t care about me.”

Oh, here it comes, Dazai thinks dreadfully. That was the opening you needed to bring up the subject Dazai desperately wanted to avoid. He has made a fatal mistake. He should’ve just nodded along and agreed to your plan.

“You’re right he’s not your father,” Dazai immediately agrees to appease you and try to avoid the imminent conversation. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Hey, do you have food here? I’m so hungry all of a sudden, wow, do you hear my stomach-” 

You sigh, looking away. Your eyes are suddenly very tired and Dazai’s words falter on his tongue as his gaze settles on you. His fingers twitch to reach out for your hand but you draw them back into your lap. Dazai’s gaze drops at the blatant rejection, but as soon as you notice, you reach back out to intertwine your fingers with his. He feels placated, but only a little, because he still has a tight feeling in his chest that he can’t push away. A looming fear that something is going to go terribly wrong.

“Can we please talk about this?” you finally ask quietly, and even though Dazai does want to say no, he simply cannot bring himself to. 

So, instead, he nods, and braces himself for what he knows is bound to be a terrible conversation. He waits for you to say something—you look like you want to, but he thinks that maybe you’re struggling just as much as him at opening the conversation. 

This isn’t going to go well, he realizes again, swallowing thickly. 

“Come on,” you finally say, rising to your feet. You hold out your hand to him and Dazai stares at it for a moment, confused. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you smell disgusting.”

“I wonder why,” Dazai mutters, and he means for it to come out as a joke, but when the small smile on your lips falters, he realizes it probably came out much too bitter so he quickly grabs your hand instead, letting you help him to his feet. He tries to get you to smile again by giving you a soft one of his own, but now the expression on your face is heavy and conflicted. “Are you gonna take a bath with me?”

“You should probably rinse off before we get into the bath,” you say dryly, thumb running along the back of his hand before you let go of it. “Otherwise we’ll just be sitting in shit water.”

Dazai almost gags. “Don’t remind me what I’m covered in right now,” he pleads. “Where is the shower?”

The light returns to your eyes, a smile flickers to your lips, and Dazai considers it a win even if he is covered in shit and god knows what else. He glances back down to where he’d been laying and winces when he sees the stains. His eyes flicker back up to you and he cringes when he sees the displeased expression on your face.

“I’ll make Atsushi and Akutagawa clean it,” you say more to yourself than to him, shaking your head and motioning for him to follow. “Bonding exercise.”

Dazai raises his eyebrows, unsure if the couch is even salvageable, and almost lets a comment slip about it considering you were so quick to throw out his couch to replace it, but he refrains when a sad expression crosses your face when you think he’s not looking. He frowns, looking around a bit more scrutinizing now.

This place looks nothing like your apartment.

Your apartment is… plain. Minimalistic. The most you have decorating it is a handful of paintings on the wall and a couple of antiques displayed on dressers. Other than that, you have your furniture, your television, and that’s just about it. Dazai had joked once about it feeling like a hotel room, and promptly stole your credit card to buy things to decorate with—gaudy Christmas lights even though it’s not Christmas, a couple of fake pumpkins to line against your wall and a plastic skeleton to pin up near the window. He even bought an inflatable snowman to put in the middle of the room, but it hasn’t come yet. You rolled your eyes every time you came back from work to see some new, seasonally inappropriate decoration in your apartment, but he could tell the more things he added to your apartment, the happier you seemed to be. 

This place was actually decorated. Pictures and trinkets set up on the dressers, all of the furniture matched and the walls were a warm burgundy instead of the off-putting, psych ward white of your apartment. You said this was a safe house, but it seems more like a home than your actual one. 

“What is this place?” he asks again, because it’s something more than a safe-house, he just doesn’t know what.

“I told you,” you frown. “A safe house.”

Dazai’s lips curl down in response but he doesn’t press, gaze flickering over to one of the side tables against the wall, trying to figure out who exactly is in the pictures on it, but as he strains his eyes to focus on it, pain ricochets through his head and he has to abandon the mission. Disappointed, he follows you into the back bedroom and realizes he’ll just have to figure it out later.

He almost stops in his tracks in the doorway when he sees that the bedroom is just as homely as the rest of the safe house. It’s weird—the same burgundy walls, dark mahogany furniture, there’s what looks to be a handmade quilt draped over the foot of the bed. It’s just so unlike you that it almost has Dazai reeling.

You give him an odd look when you see the twisted expression on his face, but motion toward another door. “The bathroom is in there—go rinse off and run the bath, I’ll be in there in a minute, I’m going to grab a change of clothes for you.”

“Mkay,” Dazai agrees, a jump in his step as he rushes over to the bathroom. 

He only pauses for a second to take in his surroundings when he gets in there—he’s not as surprised now by the style. Less modern, more rustic, just like the rest of the house; it’s more like something he’d expect to see in one of those American holiday movies. He leans over the tub to run the hot water before pulling off his clothes. He squints as he starts to unwind his bandages, looking into the shower and realizing that the only soap in there is an unopened bar soap, and a men’s shampoo and conditioner set. 

A bit suspicious now, he glances at the door leading to the bedroom before kneeling down in front of the cabinets beneath the sink. With one hand, he unwinds the bandages around his legs, and with the other, he reaches out to open the cabinet so he can snoop. Just as he expected: men’s deodorant, a spare baking soda and peroxide toothpaste that he knows you hate, and a handful of different colognes. There’s one bag off to the side and Dazai reaches for it, peeking in and finding your typical bath soaps and hair care.

Whose place is this? He wonders, pausing for half a second before taking out your soaps and bringing them into the shower with him. It’s not Chuuya’s—Dazai knows that because he hasn’t seen a single tacky hat yet, but then whose?

He’s quick to clean himself off, eager to be with you and still a bit anxious that you might disappear when he’s not looking. The water runs brown as it rinses over him, but it feels nice—Dazai realizes that this is his first shower since he got kidnapped by the Guild, and a part of him wants to bask in it. He wants to wash off all of the unfamiliar touches and the dirt and the blood, but more than that, he wants to surround himself with you instead. Which means he has to hurry out of here and drag you into the tub with him. 

He thinks maybe he should be biding his time. He has a lot to think about before he actually talks to you—he’s hardly even had a chance to process everything that happened—but still, he finds himself rushing to scrub himself. It couldn’t have been more than ten, fifteen minutes before he’s stumbling out of the shower and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. He almost expects you to be waiting in the bathroom for him, but you’re not, so he frowns and creaks the door back open to look for you.

Your name is on his lips as he steps back into the bedroom, but he falters when he sees you standing in the same place he left you: right outside a closet, except now the door is open and there’s a sweatshirt in your hands. The expression on your face is destroyed, and Dazai isn’t exactly sure what to say, luckily, he doesn’t need to because you hear the door open and turn toward him.

Whatever you’re about to say dies on your lips as your eyes trail over his body.

Another fatal mistake.

Dazai instantly realizes that he has never taken off his bandages in front of you before—that night at the beach house, he thought you were going to ask him to take them off, but you didn’t. He was glad for it, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready, and after that… Well, everything went downhill after that.

Dazai suddenly wants to flee. He becomes acutely aware of all of the scars on his body plainly in view. The warm, dim lighting becomes spotlights shining down on him, highlighting all of the flaws that he’s feared your reaction to. He waits for your face to twist—or, he knows you, you probably wouldn’t have such a visible reaction, so he focuses on your eyes instead.

But they only curve up along with your lips, a fondness in them that he doesn’t expect. You place the clothes down on the bed and approach him, his breath catches when your hands rest on his hips right above the towel. The skin-on-skin makes his chest ache—he’s missed you so much, he hadn’t even realized how hard it had been to breathe without you until he was back with you again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes out loud, lashes fluttering when your thumbs circle over his hip bones, right over a jagged scar that cuts across his lower abdomen—the product of an unfortunate encounter in Suribachi. 

“I missed you too,” you say softly. Your eyes trace over his face like you’re trying to memorize each little detail—usually he feels uncomfortable when under a scrutinizing gaze, he never wants someone to look too closely at him in fear of what they might find, but he feels warm beneath yours. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sure exactly what you’re apologizing for; it could be anything from almost killing him to letting him into your life at all. He’s not yet ready for this conversation to start, he hasn’t even gathered his thoughts yet, so instead he glances pointedly back toward the bathroom. You let out a soft breath—he can’t tell if it’s irritation or you’re just tired, it might be both, but you do motion for him to go in and he can hear you following him.

The water is still steaming as he lets the towel drop to the ground and sinks into it. His muscles instantly relax, eyes sliding shut as he rests against the back of the tub, letting out a soft sigh. For a moment, he can almost forget everything that’s happened, his head falls to the side to focus on you as you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on the side table. He blinks when you pull off your dress shirt, gaze zeroing in on a scar marring your upper back. It’s small, circular—a bullet wound, maybe? It doesn’t go through to your chest though, he would’ve noticed that. 

“How did you get that?” he asks curiously, belatedly realizing he probably has no right to ask about scars considering his body is riddled with them and he’d probably evade most attempts at your prying if you asked. 

“Hm?” you ask quietly, looking over your shoulder at him as you finish undressing.

The words falter on Dazai’s lips as his gaze roves over your body. You’re beautiful, he thinks again, a bit more dreamily this time. You’re beautiful, and he’s missed you so much, and he just wants all of this to be over so he can go back to lounging in your apartment and spending your money all day. It’s only when you raise your eyebrows that he clears his throat and nods his chin to your back.

“The scar on your back,” he explains. “How did you get it?”

“Oh,” you realize, making your way over to the tub and tapping his shoulder, motioning for him to shift forward. You slip into the water behind him, circling your arms around his waist and Dazai’s chest feels warm and full as he rests back against you, eyes sliding shut. “An assassination attempt when I was eighteen. I was… reckless, saw it coming and… Well, luckily, the Flags had been in the area. Iceman figured out what was happening and they got there quick enough to stabilize me and get me to Mori.”

Dazai’s throat swells at the implication of what you’d said, trying to distract himself with the feeling of your fingers tracing across his abdomen. He notes softly, “You’re never reckless.”

Your fingers pause in the absent patterns you’re tracing on him, and Dazai wonders if it’s a sore topic, about to retract his words. Before he can, you let out a soft breath and drop your forehead down on his shoulder, arms tightening around him.

“This was Itou’s house. All of the stuff in here, it’s his family’s—stuff he was able to salvage after they were killed. He tried to keep the house like how his mother used to keep it as a way to memorialize her,” you say quietly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he recognizes the name of your old partner. “We were enemies when we first met, y’know? It was during the big conflict six years ago. He was part of one of the foreign organizations. I ended up recruiting him, but he spent a few months on his own here. He was careful to keep it a blind spot to the Port Mafia even after he joined up, I always thought he was paranoid about it, but he was quite insistent that there was no need for people to know about it.”

“Makes sense,” Dazai says dryly. “I wouldn’t want Mori knowing where I’m living either.”

It’s an off-handed quip, but you still stiffen and again, Dazai fumbles to say something else because he clearly upset you. He starts to add, “I-”

“I killed him,” you finally say, voice weak and airy. Your arms loosen around him, but his hands drop to cover yours, holding them in place. “I killed him, Osamu.”

“I thought you said he died on a mission,” Dazai murmurs, hand tightening around yours when he feels the way your fingers are trembling. 

“I… Itou was born into this life. Was born into a Yakuza-family based in Tokyo, trained since he was old enough to walk how to use his ability… how to kill. The Yakuza syndicate his family was the head of was wiped out by the Sun and Steel when he was eight… nine, maybe. His mother was able to get him and bring him back to Australia—that’s where she was from. It’s how he ended up with Strain,” you explain, and the water suddenly feels a bit cold—what happened to Itou’s family sounds a lot like what happened to Dazai’s. From the way you pause, you wonder if you realize the same thing. You quickly change the subject, “He tried getting me out of the Mafia.”

“What?” Dazai asks, surprised. He shifts to physically look at you, catching the wistful expression on your face. “You wanted to leave the Mafia.”

The wistful expression shifts into something much more conflicted. 

“I didn’t-” you start to say before cutting yourself off. “I don’t know. I think maybe a part of me might’ve wanted to. I was… curious. He was sneaky—he was always such a sneaky bastard. He tried to ease me into it, show me what a different life was like. Called them training exercises, wanted me to blend in with kids my age.”

He remembers you telling him this at the beach house, but he listens anyway because now you do sound wistful. His eyes slide shut as you hold him tightly, pressing your lips to his shoulder blade before resting your chin on top of it. 

“His gift to me for my eighteenth birthday was an acceptance letter to university. He pulled some strings. It was for YNU, actually, funny enough,” you say softly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he turns to look at you again; there’s a small, sad smile on your lips and when he turns, you take the chance to steal a kiss from him. “Imagine, we could’ve been first years together.”

Dazai doesn’t dare to respond. His hand tightens around yours—if it’s painful, you don’t let it show. Odasaku dragged him to orientation, and he imagines meeting you there. You’re good at socializing—charming—Dazai can be too when he wants, but he definitely did not want to during orientation. He mostly sulked away and waited for it to be over so he could go back home. He imagines that you’d be in the same group with him, and although he’d probably ignore you the first few times you tried to talk to him, he’d eventually give in. Dazai is weak to pretty women, especially when that pretty woman is you.

Or maybe, you’d meet during a shared class. You would probably be a poli-sci major, but he’s taken classes in the field for requirements. He hated them, thought they were boring, but he probably would’ve enjoyed it much more if he had you to admire all two hours of the class. And maybe-

“I was curious,” you repeat, voice tighter. There’s more of an edge to it now, and Dazai realizes that this story is about to take a turn. “I… I wanted to try it. I told Mori.”

Dazai’s eyes widen and he sits up straight. The water sloshes around him as he physically turns around to face you. He asks, but can’t finish, “Did he…”

“He said it was a great idea,” you say tightly. “He encouraged it. I accepted the spot, and a week before orientation, Itou died on a mission that we got bad intel for. My whole team, they died to make sure I got out alive. Mori denied having any involvement, said he wouldn’t risk an ability user as powerful as Itou, but I know. I know he had a hand in it. I’ve always known it. The government had been after Itou for years—they said he was a national security threat. A couple of weeks later, we suddenly have the skilled business permit that Mori’s been trying to get for months. It was a trade-off. I know it. Two birds, one stone. The skilled business permit and my full focus back on the Mafia for Itou’s life.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something—anything—but he can’t. Your eyes are misty, and the foreboding feeling that’s been haunting him since he woke up intensifies. You shake your head, blinking back tears. 

“I never should’ve brought you into this world, Osamu.”

Dazai needs to think now. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to go about this, whether he should be soft and demure, appealing to your heart, or if he should be more forceful, triggering your guilt. 

He goes with the latter.

“Well it’s too late for that,” Dazai says, keeping his voice steady until he knows how you’re going to react to it. When you instantly shake your head again, his voice hardens. “It’s too late, I’m already in it. You can’t just get rid of me. Take accountability.”

“You don’t think I have?” you question dryly, looking away from him. But he needs you to look at him for this to be effective, so he reaches out to grab your hand, dragging your attention back toward him. “I killed your family, Osamu.”

“She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arms and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Her name was Akane. Bunji and Touma were her brothers. 

They were Dazai’s brothers. Dazai’s sister. The stuffed bear was called Coco, and Akane would clutch it and cry whenever Dazai started talking about things like death. She was scared of dying; more than that, scared of the people she loved dying. She cried for weeks when their grandmother passed, and got angry at Dazai when he didn’t even cry at the funeral. Dazai used to share a bedroom with her and Touma, but he hated her nightlight—it was purple and it was always right in Dazai’s eyes when he laid down. He convinced his mother to force Bunji to swap rooms with him, so Dazai had his own room on the second floor of his grandfather’s estate.

“You were a kid too,” Dazai rasps out the same thing he said at the beach house, but it comes out a bit weaker this time knowing exactly who the people you killed were. “You were fourteen. You-”

“I played a role in tracking your mother down,” you continue. Dazai’s breath catches as his fingers loosen around yours. “It was my punishment for not making sure all of the grandchildren were… eliminated. I was the one that was tracking her down, and I was the one that was going to interrogate her for your whereabouts when I found her.”

“Stop,” Dazai says quietly, voice wavering.

“No,” you reply firmly. “No. You need to understand this-”

“I do,” Dazai insists, voice cracking. “I do understand-”

“You don’t, Dazai,” you raise your voice and Dazai cringes back. You sigh and soften your voice, but the damage has been done, Dazai’s fight or flight instincts have been triggered. This conversation is not going to end in his favor, so he needs to run before he gets hurt, but he can’t because you have him stuck in the bath with you. You reach out again to take his hands in yours, fingers absently running along the scars on his wrists. “You don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so quick to join me in here. You haven’t even had time to process it.”

“Yes, I have,” Dazai whispers weakly. “I have.”

“I ruined your life, Osamu,” you say quietly. “Everything bad that’s ever happened to you started with me.”

“That’s not true,” Dazai argues, nails biting into your skin as he clings to you. “My life sucked before everything really went to shit. The first time I tried to kill myself, I was eleven. You saved my life. I was going to kill myself that night we met at the bar. You saved me.”

“Osamu-”

“You’re not listening to me,” Dazai interrupts, voice taking a more manic edge as he shakes his head. He can talk himself out of any situation—why is he failing now when it matters most? “You’re not listening. You saved me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you breathe out, but the words don’t settle his nerves because they’re heavy and full of sorrow, and the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally start to spill over.

“Then why does this still feel like a goodbye?” he begs, breath shallow as he searches your face for an answer.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. He finds his answer in your eyes. He always does. You look at him again with that desperate, longing expression, like you’re trying to memorize the details of his face even though you know it’s futile. 

This is a goodbye.

--

Dazai hasn’t spoken to you once since your conversation in the bath.

Chuuya, your subordinates, and the Flags are back now, and Dazai is sulking in the bedroom watching one of his dumb reality shows. You can hardly focus on the conversation at hand because of it, and you know the others are starting to get irritated by your distraction considering the stakes at play right now. If one thing goes wrong, all of your lives would be forfeit. They’re risking everything by helping you right now, and you can't even bother to give them your full attention.

“Out,” Piano Man suddenly says. Your gaze snaps toward him, as does all of the others’ in the room. When nobody immediately moves, he raises his eyebrows and continues dryly, “Are you all hard of hearing? I said get out.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Albatross demands. “Her boy’s in the bedroom. This place is small-”

“Go crowd in the closet for all I care. Get out,” Piano Man says dismissively. Still, no one moves until his gaze sharpens and they realize he’s being entirely serious. You shift to leave with them until his eyes land on you. “Not you.”

You feel like a child about to be scolded, which is ridiculous because you’re a mafioso, and though Piano Man is technically the same rank as you, he’s not really. He can’t scold you, but you shift awkwardly on your feet and share a concerned look with Chuuya anyway as they all wander out of the safe house and into the small hallway outside.

Once the two of you are alone, you finally glance back at Piano Man, who’s watching you carefully. After a few moments he says, “I take it you told him the plan?”

“I did,” you reply quietly.

“He didn’t take it well?” Piano Man questions.

“You know the answer to that,” you say a bit more dryly before shaking your head. “Would you have taken it well?”

“Of course not, I’d be livid,” Piano Man says immediately, making you cringe. “Does this mean we’re changing the plan?” 

“No,” you tell him. “We can’t. This is the only option.”

“I know,” Piano Man says with a thin smile. “So stop sulking and get your head in the game so we don’t all die trying to perform a coup.”

You’re startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, but you suppose you shouldn’t be. Piano Man has always been capricious, going from his whimsical moods to more cold and ruthless ones within a matter of seconds. You can hardly meet his eyes now, looking down at the ground to avoid them.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask after a few moments.

You don’t have to look at Piano Man to see the way he raises his eyebrows judgmentally. “Excuse me?” 

“I was going to kill you earlier. I held a gun to your head. Why are you helping me?” you press, the words weighing heavily on you as you remember the way he met your eyes when you lifted the muzzle of your gun to his temple.

Piano Man has the audacity to look amused. “When I first recruited Lippmann, I tried to drown him in the harbor because I got paranoid he sold me out to the feds after a mission went wrong. It happens—the next time it does, I’m going to be pulling my own gun out though. So, don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t apologize often, even when you know you’re entirely in the wrong. Mori has taught you only to apologize when it serves you, otherwise you should never make an admission of guilt or liability. So it’s not surprising when Piano Man’s eyebrows shoot upward, but his expression softens after a moment. He reaches out to pat your head.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he murmurs, “but we need you at the top of your game if this is going to work.”

“I know,” you reply. “... I know.”

“Good,” he says, patting the top of your head yet again before sighing. “Let me go get them and we’ll get back to planning, okay?”

“Mkay.”

You lean back against the wall as you look down at the table Lippmann set up for planning. The Flags, your subordinates, Kajii Motojiro—they’re non-factors in the planned coup. The Flags will support it, your subordinates will support you, and all Kajii cares about is his experiments. Paul Verlaine is not quite as secure, but Chuuya is confident that he’ll support whatever Chuuya goes along with.

The issue lies in Kouyou and the Black Lizards.

You already feel a headache come on just at the thought, lifting your hands to your head and rubbing your eyes as you knock the back of your head against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. Kouyou and Hirotsu won’t support the coup, you know it. They’re both loyal to Mori—both victims of the previous boss who found refuge in Mori when he took over. They’ll fight for him, and you know better than anyone that during a forceful transition of power, all dissidents must be removed, especially ones that hold significant power and influence.

But it’s Kouyou and Hirotsu. Kouyou, who was the one to teach you how to do your makeup properly, who bought you your first kimono to match her own. Hirotsu, who was always quick to execute anyone that openly disrespected you, who took you to a movie on your fifteenth birthday when Mori was busy dealing with the power transition so you didn’t spend it alone. The thought makes you sick—they were family, and maybe Hirotsu could be convinced. He’s loyal to Mori, yes, but more than that, he’s loyal to the Port Mafia. If you can manufacture a legitimate reason for the coup…

You sigh as you glance down the hall where Dazai is hiding in the bedroom, startled when your gaze catches his familiar brown. He’s seemingly just as surprised that you caught him spying, immediately slamming the bedroom door shut to retreat back into the safety of the room. Your lips curl up into a small smile, which is quickly washed away when your subordinates, the Flags and Chuuya all file back into the room.

“I’ll talk to Ane-san,” Chuuya finally says, reigniting the conversation. “I’ll make her see reason.”

“There’s no time for talking, Chuuya,” Piano Man tells him. “This all has to be done within hours. If we let word get out about what we’re doing… The coup is risky, and a civil war would be the end of this city.”

Frustration flashes across Chuuya’s face. “I’m not budging on this,” he says, voice tight with thinly restrained anger. “Either you give me the chance to talk to her, or I’ll withdraw my support.”

“Chuuya,” you sigh tiredly, wanting nothing more than to just sit down.

“No,” Chuuya interrupts you. “I won’t actively stand against you, but I won’t stand with you if you don’t give me the chance to talk to her.”

“Fine,” you finally say even though you know it’s a mistake. It’s asking for trouble. Piano Man gives you a sharp, disapproving look, but you shake your head. “It’s fine. She won’t be keeping her executive position.”

Chuuya’s face twists. “But-”

“No.” This time you interrupt him, holding up your hand. “I’m not budging on this. If you want the chance to talk to her and convince her this is the best route, I’ll give you it, but you need to meet me halfway. She’s not retaining her executive position.”

Chuuya looks unhappy, but after a few moments, he nods. “Fine.”

“I can’t risk it, Chuuya,” you tell him quietly. “I need people who I trust in the inner circle. I can’t trust her after what just happened.”

“I get it,” Chuuya says. “I just don’t like it.”

“That leaves three executive seats we need to fill.” Piano Man lets out a heavy sigh as he sits on the edge of the table, tilting his head back in exhaustion. “Your’s, Ace’s, and Kouyou-san’s. Do you even have three more people who you trust?”

Klaus and Akutagawa, you think to yourself, but neither of them are executive material. Your gaze drifts over to Albatross, Iceman, and Doc, each of them pointedly looks away, none of them want the open seats. Lippmann can’t take it, not with what you have planned for him. So, who else-

“Verlaine?” Chuuya offers. “He’s got a ton of experience with the European organizations—we’ll probably need it considering Dostoevsky’s involvement with the Guild, and this Book that’s apparently somewhere in the city. If it gets out to the public, we’ll have organizations swarming just like during the Dragon’s Head.”

You don’t like the idea of Verlaine being an executive, and you don’t think Piano Man does either considering his unfortunate first meeting with the man, but Chuuya raises good points. You have your own experience with the European underworld, but it’s nothing like what Verlaine has.

“Okay,” you agree, “and the other two?”

The Black Lizards are its own command unit that answers directly to the Boss. They don’t have a seat at the table because it’s not their field. Their field is war, not politics… but what other options are there? The people you trust are far and few in-between, you can probably count them on one hand.

“What about Tolstoy?” a familiar voice asks quietly from down the hallway. You look up immediately, gaze focusing on where Dazai is standing in the door of the bedroom, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatshirt, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t like the attention of everyone on him, so he keeps his eyes trained fully on you. “Mishima?”

“They’re not part of the Port Mafia,” Chuuya dismisses, “they don’t get seats.”

“But what if they were?” Dazai presses, shuffling forward. He hardly spares Chuuya a glance before looking at you again. “The transition of power is going to be shaky, you need to strengthen your position in other ways, otherwise…”

“You think we should merge with the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel,” Piano Man realizes, sitting up straighter as he considers Dazai’s proposition. “Doesn’t that risk destabilizing us even more though?”

He looks at you for an answer, but your gaze is focused on Dazai. He’s not even gone yet, but you already miss him desperately; all you want is to be with him, but it’s just not possible. You can’t have him and run the Port Mafia at the same time; he will die because of his affiliation with you, just like he almost did when the Guild captured him. It wouldn’t matter how safe you tried to keep him, one mistake and he would die. And that will lead to every decision you make being centered around him, not what’s best for the Port Mafia and that will lead to its inevitable ruin. 

“No, Osamu’s right,” you say, and Dazai preens at the praise, but then quickly deflates again. You want to reach out for him, but you refrain. “Not a merger. An acquisition. The Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel are already pretty much extensions of the Port Mafia, we would only be formalizing it. I trust Tolstoy and Mishima—I pretty much built the Three Deaths into what it is today myself. We’d give the Port Mafia an official foothold in Russia, more sway over everything that happens in Tokyo. It’s a good plan. Great one, even.”

“Will they even agree to it?” Chuuya asks doubtfully. “Go from being fully autonomous to answering to us.”

“They pretty much already do just answer to us,” Albatross mutters.

“They’ll agree to it,” you tell him quietly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Tolstoy won’t be hard to convince. He, Chekhov and Gorky are all good friends of yours, you helped them build the Three Deaths, you helped them win territory battles against the Pale Flame and the Red Chamber. All it would take a few words of convincing for them to agree to it. Mishima might be more difficult, but all you have to do is convince his daughters, and they hang off your every word.

There might be some dissent from the Sun and Steel executives, but even then, you think it would be minimal at worst. It’s a good plan. Having Tolstoy and Mishima sitting at the executive table would lend you some much needed support during the transition, and with the Port Mafia subsuming the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel, it would provide a major deterrence against any foreign movements from Cao Xueqin or Yi Sang.

“What about Hirotsu and the Black Lizards?” Akutagawa asks, shifting awkwardly when all eyes turn to him. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and you know it’s because he actually cares about what your answer might be. Akutagawa likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about anyone, but you know he has a soft spot for the unit that took Gin in so easily.

“We can’t afford to lose the Black Lizards,” Iceman notes as he lights another cigarette. “Especially if we’re bringing in other organizations. We don't want our own people to feel like they’re being lost in the mix, y’know?”

“I’ll handle Hirotsu,” you finally say. “It’ll be fine. I just need to figure out how to frame this. Needs to be framed in a way that makes him feel like this was the best, and only, course of action for the Mafia. He’s loyal to Mori only to the extent that he’s good for the Port Mafia. I’ll figure it out. Leave that to me.”

“Ace’s subordinates?” Albatross prompts. “They been handled? We can’t have them knowing about him. Can’t have anyone knowing about him.”

“Dead,” Akutagawa says. “I killed them.”

“Security cameras? CCTV? Any record of this kid being affiliated with us?” 

“Wiped,” Klaus answers flippantly. “We’ve gone through it every day since they met. Weren’t allowed to sleep ‘til made sure everything from the day was wiped. There’s no physical record of him ever being around us.”

“Okay, so we get this settled, and then we wait on Repin for the rest of us, right?” Albatross asks. Dazai cringes at the mention of Repin, and you look away from him, unable to watch the pain that crosses his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “It all needs to happen within no more than a couple days otherwise we risk the wrong people finding out so…”

“So we should get started,” Chuuya sighs, pushing himself off the wall. He squeezes your wrist as he passes by you, walking in the direction of the door. “We’ll give you guys some time. I’ll let you know how things go with Ane-san.”

You nod, eyes following him as he leaves. The others follow, filing out of the room until it’s only you and Dazai left again. You turn to look at him, so many words on your lips but incapable of pushing a single one out. Instead, you reach out to cup his face between your hands, running your thumbs across his cheekbones. His lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispers, brown eyes heavy and glassy as he looks down at you. “We can figure something else out. I know we can. Just give me some time, I just need a little time, I’ll figure something out.”

“We don’t have time,” you say, voice cracking over the words. “I love you, Osamu.”

Dazai pulls away, shaking his head. He wipes quickly at his eyes before looking at you again. You expect what he says, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I won’t forgive you. Not for this. Not ever. I can’t.”

“I know.”

--

SIX WEEKS LATER

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this invitation,” a familiar voice hums as the door to your box opens. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your gaze trained down on the performance taking place below. “Not from you, and not after everything that’s happened.”

“No?” you ask absently. “It’s unlike you to not expect something, Dostoevsky. Less like you to admit it.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects as he comes to stand next to you. He’s close enough to you that you can feel his body brushing yours. You finally turn your head to look at him—his lips are curved up into a deceptively soft smile, violet eyes glittering with a type of mischief that you know is dangerous. “We are well enough acquainted to be on a first name basis, no?” 

“Dostoevsky,” you repeat pointedly, looking back down at the show as the first act reaches its climax. Of all of the shows you’ve seen, Tosca is still your favorite. This rendition here at the New National Theatre isn’t quite as good as the one at La Scala, but you’re enjoying it well enough.

Dostoevsky lets out a huff of laughter, you don’t turn to look at him when you feel him reach out to touch you. His fingers trace along the maroon scarf hanging loosely over your shoulders. You barely withhold a shiver when you feel his knuckles skim your neck—rumor has it, skin-on-skin contact alone with Dostoevsky is enough to kill. You don’t die, but it’s enough to beckon your attention back to him.

“Red is your color,” he murmurs, looking down at you through his lashes. “You look beautiful.”

“It isn’t yours,” you reply quickly, glancing down at the red tie tied neatly around his neck. “Neither is flattery.”

Dostoevsky does laugh this time—it’s soft and short, pretty like a bell. Unbefitting of him, just like the color red and false flattery. 

“It isn’t?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively playful. “I wore it for you. Since you invited me, I thought it appropriate that we match. I heard of your success in Yokohama. I should congratulate you on your new promotion. Or perhaps extend my condolences for the death of your father? Are condolences still proper when you were the one to drive the knife into his back?”

It’s a dig, an attempt to get under your skin and throw you off before getting into the meat of the conversation. You can feel his eyes on you, the soft playfulness gone and replaced by a sharpness that has you on edge.

“You said it yourself. One life or thousands.”

“It was a bullet to the head,” you correct idly—the words taste like poison on your tongue, but you’re careful to not let it show on your face. “Condolences are unnecessary. He was not my father.”

“It’s okay, dear, this was how it was always meant to be.”

“Hm,” Dostoevsky hums, amused. “I was quite pleased when I found out about the coup. I wasn’t expecting it.”

He wants to add something else but he decides against it. He’s very calculating with his words, he always has been, but he is especially now. You know that each word he speaks is chosen for a specific purpose, and it’s hard, even for you, to break down each one as he speaks it to understand why he says it so you can choose your own words carefully in return. Fyodor Dostoevsky is the only man capable of consistently beating you in exchanges of words, and that is concerning. 

It’s why you invited him here—you need an idea of what he’s planning while you solidify your newfound position.

“It seems you struggle to expect many things I do,” you note. “I should add it to my resume. I doubt many people are capable of repeatedly surprising Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

“It is true,” he agrees with an airy laugh. “You are a… difficult opponent. I will admit it.”

 “Is that so?”

Dostoevsky makes a soft noise of agreement, lashes fluttering as he glances over at you once before he looks back down at the show taking place down on the stage. 

“You are not guided strictly by logic,” he muses. “It's there, of course, you are very intelligent but it’s laced with so many emotions. It is difficult for me to determine your course of action because I can never predict when you will lead with emotion, and when with logic. And even then, there are grades to it. I could account for dozens of plans of action and miss the one you take because you are just a bit less emotional than I anticipated… I did not predict that you would go for Zelda Fitzgerald, it was quite bold—there was a high risk for failure. You make things… much more interesting. I enjoy it.”

“You would find something like that enjoyable,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your champagne. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Dostoevsky.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects again with a light smile. 

“Dostoevsky.”

“Heh,” he laughs quietly. “I will… wait for things to settle before making another move here in Yokohama. I’m curious to see how all of the chips fall on their own. You’re in for quite the storm with that bill that just passed through the Diet, aren’t you?”

You don’t respond. You got the answer you needed, so there’s no reason for you to keep entertaining his snide comments; you’ll just watch the show in peace. You’ll have the bit of time you need to get things settled before Dostoevsky makes his next play. Though the man is a compulsive liar and you have no reason to trust him, Dostoevsky has never lied so blatantly to your face, so you’ll take him at his word until you have reason to believe otherwise. 

Dostoevsky takes your silence as an opportunity to continue talking, naturally.

“I did have a question for though,” he says, a bit too thrilled by the prospect of your answer. You don’t like the way his eyes are lit up, and you especially don’t like the smile on his lips. “Entertain me?”

You raise your eyebrows pointedly, waiting for him to ask it. 

“I heard rumors that the reason behind your sudden decision to overthrow your father was more… intimate than most believe,” Dostoevsky murmurs, leaning like he’s sharing in some schoolgirl gossip with an old friend. Your brows furrow as you process his words. “You must tell me what boy has managed to steal your heart. He must be something special. Not even I was capable of that, I’m almost jealous.”

You look at him now, gaze sharp but confused as your eyes trail over him before focusing back on his face. He seems surprised by your reaction, tilting his head to the side and studying you carefully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

--

to be continued in ... the land is inhospitable (but are we?) [est. release: early feb]

--

WOWWWWWW GUYS WE FUCKING FINISHED CIVZAI .... or well, ;) civzai1. some notes:

i promised a happy ending, i know ... but i promised it for civzai in general, and they DO have a happy ending ... just not yet. pls dont bully me ill cry i'm so proud of this. i didn't lie.

i always intended on there being two parts to this series because i feel like time apart is essential in the pmreader universe. when dazai defected in canon universe, and now with her taking over as boss and wiping her memories of him. the first part was always gonna be the guild arc, the second arc is gonna be my rendition of the hunting dogs and the decay of the angel

i actually went back and retconned chapter 1 to have them talking about the divine comedy instead of petrarch because of the first scene in this chapter. i thought it would be neat coming full circle with the themes of betrayal and death, + the hozier song this chapter is based on is about the 9th circle in the divine comedy. so everything just tied together too neatly for me to not add it.

;) just remember now with repin involved, reader's narration is now entirely unreliable. we don't know what's truth and manufactured by repin.

i was actually really tempted to base civzai2 off of a mother mother album just because hayloft II fits what's going to be the first half of it SO fucking well, but i had to go with mitski because the whole album literally captures the vibes of the second series perfectly

[lyinginmeadow]

Make the clock reverse I Paul Lahote x reader

Summary: You had been dating Paul for what feels like an eternity, his loyalty was something you never thought you'd have to question until she appeared, tearing you two apart. Word count: 2,2k TW: cheating (kind of), insecurity, violence, angst, hurt and absolutely no comfort (you had been warned) a/n: I feel like I should apologize in advance. Also I don't hate Rachel, I just used her character since I didn't feel like creating a new one.

You never were a jealous person by any means. The first glimpse of jealousy came when you first became an imprint. People might believe that the whole ordeal affected mainly the wolf who imprinted, but boy, were they wrong. You might not have been as possessive as Paul, or as vocal about it, but the bond still made you want to remind everyone that he was yours.

You didn't run into any issues until she became close with the pack when she returned from college. Rachel Black was becoming a thorn in your side, causing many problems within your relationship with Paul.

He, of course, didn't believe the accusation that you spat in his face once you had had enough. After you both had time to cool down, he assured you that nothing could ever happen. You were, as the fates decided, the only person in his heart. That he would choose you even if you weren't his imprint, fates be damned. It did the trick to soothe your worries for a while. But a little bug still lived in the back of your mind, quietly reminding you whenever he was with her that maybe fate was wrong.

Tonight was the bonfire that everyone in the pack was to attend. The imprints were invited, and you hoped Rachel wouldn't show up. That, of course, was ridiculous and wishful thinking since she was in fact Billy's daughter, and since coming back to the reservation, she became part of the annual events happening within the tight-knit community. Your insecurity was like a bright beacon for her. Shining, tempting her. You could almost swear she was doing it on purpose. She was part of the community ever since she was born, and you were an outsider who somehow ended up as an imprint. Hand in hand, you arrived, greeting all of your friends. They were always there to assure you of Paul's adoration for you, seeing what jealousy was doing to you. ''Em, do you need any help with the food?'' You asked your close friend who was there for you when you became an imprint, and ever since then, you had become inseparable. ''No, I got it covered. But thank you.'' She smiled, nodding to Sam, who had just come into view with five plates.

You laughed and let Paul take you to a seat near the fire. Just as you were about to sit, he pulled you onto his lap, snuggling his nose into your neck. ''I love you.'' He mumbled almost inaudibly. You giggled. ''I love you, too.''

As everyone gathered, you could feel the daggers sent your way. You tried to focus on Billy and his legends. Ever since the tribe let you listen in, you had been invested. Today was different. You were not able to concentrate on a single word. Shivering out of discomfort, your gaze shifted to the fires burning bright. She made you feel as if you didn't belong. Your imprint, however, pulled you even closer, trapping you with his arms. ''You okay?'' He asked, worry lacing his voice.

''Yeah, the wind is just cold.'' You whispered, setting your head on his shoulder. That was not the best excuse you could master since his embrace was always warm, and you sat near a fire, but he didn't seem to hold you hostage over your little lie, probably thinking that you could talk about it in a private setting of your home.

As the legends and stories came to an end, music and laughter replaced Billy's voice as the elders retreated to their respective households. Paul reluctantly let go of you, so you could stand up. You joined the girls as you gushed over Kim's new job. Rachel, as per usual, didn't join you. Instead, she took the opportunity that your boyfriend was just with his pack members to get closer to him. You rolled your eyes, not having the energy to deal with her. After all, you trusted your imprint to be loyal, he never gave you an excuse to do otherwise. And you believed she wouldn't try anything with you present.

''So I have this weird colleague who is like obsessed with his lunch. Which I would get, food can be a touchy subject,'' She gestured toward the guys, earning a laugh from you both. ''But he has a camera in the fridge. A camera. Who does that?'' She shook her head in disbelief.

''I can see Quil doing it, so don't give him any ideas.'' You laughed. ''No, you're absolutely right.'' Emily agreed.

"Soo, how was the honeymoon?" Kim turned to Emily. After the events of a near war with the vampire royalty, the world around you fell quiet, peaceful. Tranquility called for celebrations, weddings, and time spent together without looking behind your backs, expecting another danger to follow. Paul and Jared tried their best to fill Sam's role while he was gone with Emily. But you could tell neither of them particularly enjoyed that task.

''Well, let's just say it's about to get even more crowded around here.'' You and Kim squealed and hugged her. ''Emily, that's amazing, congratulations.''  You were ecstatic for her; she always wanted to be a mother, and you knew that she would make an amazing one.

While discussing all the ways you and Kim would spoil the newest addition to the pack, you looked around, noticing that Paul's missing. Frowning, you tried not to jump to any conclusions, trying and failing to find Rachel in the crowd. Excusing yourself to get a cup of water, you left your chattering friends behind.

As you entered the kitchen, reality seemed to crush down around you. Paul had his back to you, but the action was unmistakable. The intimacy of the moment made your heart drop into your stomach. She snaked her arm around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. His hands were slack, hanging alongside his body. Her eyes opened, meeting yours as she moaned into the kiss.

Your whole world crumbled as you quickly spun on your heel, walking out of the house swiftly, tears gathering at the edges of your eyes, blurring your vision. Your mind was drawing a blank, trying to recover from the shock.

The ringing in your ears was nearly deafeng as you took the couple of steps down the porch into the clearing. You wore a distraught expression, feeling numb as if someone had just torn your heart out of your chest. The widened eyes of your friends were on you in an instance. ''What's wrong, what happened?'' Emily asked.

''Paul, he..." You stopped yourself, "I just want to go home. I'm so sorry, Emily. I-'' You couldn't find words, stumbling over them as you tried to remove yourself from the situation, looking around like a wounded animal.

''Do you need a lift?'' She asked, concerned for your safety.

''No, no. I'll call a taxi or something. Don't worry about it.'' You answered as you continued walking from the premises. The looks of pity from your friends followed you, haunting you. Would you now lose them, too? They were Paul's friends first, and since he was in the pack, it wasn't like they could banish him.

You wanted to rage and scream until your throat was raw, but the fire within you was extinguished. Embers of the anger dimmed in comparison to the deep, unending sense of devastation, as if your very soul had been ripped from your body. Because losing him felt like a fate worse than death. The bond stretched thin, aching with every breath you took.

It was so cold that evening, a clear sign that autumn was about to begin. You walked along the road, night enveloping you. You wished it could swallow you whole. Moonlight shined dimly, letting you see just a few inches ahead. If you weren't so distraught, you wouldn't be walking alone in these woods. Paul wouldn't let you, given that the vampires roamed around, looking for their next victim. But he was not with you.

He was with her.

Before you found out about the supernatural surrounding the Olympic Peninsula, the woods made you feel safe. At peace. Walking alongside it helped you feel grounded even now, when the world was crumbling. But not even the forest was enough to fade the memory of Paul and Rachel kissing.

Shuddering from the sudden pick-up in wind, you realized that your sobs weren't the only thing keeping you company. You stiffened, shivers traveling down your spine. The woods fell silent, watching the scene unfold. Holding its breath in the wake of a predator stalking its prey.

''I'll make it quick, I promise.'' A low hiss was the last sound you heard before fire enveloped you, threatening to swallow you whole.

''What the fuck, Rachel!'' He exclaimed as he pushed her off of him, "I have a girlfriend. An imprint. You know this. For fuck's sake.'' He started to pace around the kitchen, fingers pulling on his hair. ''What were you thinking? She was right. Fuck.'' He didn't know what to do. He needed to find her, tell her what happened, and apologize, even if he didn't technically kiss her on his own free will. How does one even explain this?

"I'm sorry, okay? Geez, I just thought-"

He turned swiftly, nostrils flaring. ''You didn't think. Who do you think you are?'' He yelled, feeling his temper rise as he began to shake. ''Dammit... I need to find her.'' He left her behind, stumbling out of the house, looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Usually, you were the first thing his eyes automatically searched for in the crowd.

Instead, he was met by his friends. ''What did you do to her, Lahote?'' Yelled Kim as she closed the distance between the two of them. He looked around to find you again, but you weren't there. The implications of you leaving and Kim's yelling made his mind go blank. You saw them. You saw them and left. He trembled once more, shouting, ''Where is she? Where did she go?''

''I asked you first, so fucking answer.'' She shoved him, but he didn't move an inch. He growled as he towered over her, not appreciating her getting in his face. She should know better than to cross paths with an angry shifter. Jared made his way to his imprint, his boyish grin long gone. Baring his teeth at Paul, he took a protective stance next to Kim.

''I don't have time for this.'' Snarling, he began to leave when Rachel walked out, stopping on the steps of the porch, avoiding the gazes of onlookers. Shame coated her cheeks as she gnawed on her lip.

''You didn't...'' Said Emily, a knowing look crossing her features. Paul turned back to her, anguish glimmering in his gaze. ''You did.'' She whispered, her expression falling in disappointment.

Paul had begun to shake again, this time changing into his wolf form as he ran away from the angry faces of his friends. The whole situation made his heart beat faster, pumping blood into his ears. He couldn't wait for their answers; if you saw them, he had to fix it. He would fix it. He had to tell you it wasn't how it looked. That he would never betray you like this.

You told him how Rachel made you feel. He reassured you times and times again, that she was no one to him and that he only saw you. Which was the truth, he would never do that to you, he couldn't. Only now, you didn't believe it. Didn't believe him. And rightfully so. To you, this must have cut deeper than any knife could.

Running through the woods, he tried to catch your scent. Your words kept replaying in his mind, taunting him. His vision grew hazy with the images of your face, the betrayal in your eyes he didn't see but could vividly imagine. He stumbled, paws digging into the moss-covered ground as he picked up the scent of blood in the wind.

Human blood.

His pace quickened as he ran onto the road.

He saw it. You. In the arms of an unknown pale figure.

A vicious growl left his throat, catching the attention of the vampire. Crimson washed across his vision as the cold one pulled his bloodied teeth from your neck, hissing at the intruder. Without a second thought, Paul charged at him, teeth snapping in the direction of hard, cold skin. The vampire lost his grip, sending your body crumbling to the ground like a house of cards. Your head collided with the concrete with a bounce that echoed through Paul's mind.

Suddenly not interested in his prey, he started running toward the shadows of the woods, choosing life instead. A life he didn't hesitate to take from someone else. He wasn't quick enough when the grey wolf pounced on him, ripping his head off in a swift movement. 

The taste of your blood sat heavily on Paul's tongue, making his stomach turn. Spitting the head out, he let it fall with a sickening thud. His gaze shifted to your unmoving form, lying lifeless on the road. Your eyes were staring at him, the light in them extinguished, as if taunting him further. His whole world shifted while he stood there, processing the image before him.

The whole pack could hear the sorrow-filled howls shaking the earth itself beneath him. Begging anything, anyone to change the fates' design. The woods fell quiet once more. Listening, watching as the two souls, that were destined to be tethered together, get separated in a single moment.

[owlwithanapple]

Eternal Engagement

Chapter 02

Signs of transformation

After what happened yesterday, Damian left your room at dawn. It was already the next afternoon when you woke up. You had been sleeping for a long time. There was a chair next to the bed. The strange thing was that this chair should have been in front of the desk, but you didn't think much about it. Recalling you felt that strength was drained for a moment yesterday, but recovered today.

Hearing... No change, just a temporary phenomenon.

You changed clothes and prepared to go downstairs. Before that, you saw a black car parked at the door through the window. You knew who was coming with that exaggerated luxury car. You went downstairs and walked towards the living room. A familiar voice came, and you leaned out to see who it was. You saw your daddy, Damian and uncle Bruce. The three of them were sitting on the sofa and talking about you in a serious manner.

You hid at the stairs, not knowing what to do. The point is, you didn't do anything bad, so why hide? A hoarse voice interrupted your worries, "My future daughter-in-law, don't you come and show your face to your father-in-law?"

"Uncle Bruce, don't call me that... It's embarrassing." Bruce is like your second father, always teasing you.

Your daddy was sitting next to Damian, trying hard to hold back his laughter, your fiancé was as arrogant as usual. You ignored him and stood at the stairs. Bruce saw that your interaction was at a stage of no progress. He chuckled and stood up walked towards you, opening his arms with a bitter smile "Give Uncle Bruce a hug?"

You know Bruce is comforting you in a more caring way, you go forward to give him a hug, he pats your back and then lets go. He knows Damian's tone is always sarcastic and annoying, it's normal for you to dislike him. He puts arm around your shoulders and takes you to sit on the sofa. Damian, who was scrolling on his phone, stops his fingers and casts his emerald eyes on the two of you.

"I heard from Clark that you heard a cry for help from a far distance. Did you feel any changes in your body after waking up?" Bruce clasped hands on his knees carefully observed your body and condition.

You shook head to indicate no, and he nodded slightly. You said, "I haven't changed at all. I felt my body was hollowed out when I touched Kryptonite yesterday, but I recovered today."

"What a disappointment. I thought someone had a chance, but nothing happened." These words cut through your heart like a knife. Damian put away his phone, with a smug smile on his face like he was laughing at you.

"Damian, shut up." Bruce glared at Damian, and you felt a chill with Bruce’s voice.

"I didn't say anything wrong, father. It's all true. You didn't say it clearly-" Damian stated the truth without hiding it, and those words hurt you badly.

"I... I'll go to the kitchen to prepare drinks for you all." You got up and left in a panic.

"Is all you can do to avoid reality? How pitiful." Damian said.

You don't want to marry him, don't want to spend your life with him, he has never been gentle to you. His cold and ruthless emerald eyes and the piercing words in his mouth are like several knives that keep leaving scars deep in your heart. You can't change the facts, because he is right. Everyone cares about your feelings, so they choose to avoid these factors.

You went to the kitchen in frustration, opened the cupboard and took out the tea bag to prepare for brewing. While waiting for the hot water to boil, you were distracted and vaguely heard your daddy and Bruce scolding Damian, but he just didn't care about anyone's opinion. Self-centered people, you feel very jealous, why is he better than you.

After the tea was brewed, you carefully placed it in front of the three people. When you were about to take the teapot to pour the tea, Bruce patted the empty seat next to you and motioned you to sit down. Your daddy poured the tea into the cup and pushed it in front of you. You took it and taste it carefully, Bruce patted your shoulder as if to comfort you.

"Don't take Damian's words to heart. You know how he talks." He showed a bitter and worried look when he noticed your low mood.

"I know... I don't blame him. It's futile to argue." You were frustrated but tried to hold on to your emotions. You put down the teacup.

"Little princess, don't be like this-" Your daddy wanted to comfort you but was interrupted by Damian.

Those words hurt more and more, they kept playing in your mind over and over again. "It's not shameful to face the reality. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not being qualified to have super powers. You can only envy, jealousy and hate. It's a shame for the weak and it's useless."

You want to run away, run to a place where no one can find you. Run away? What happens after you run away? You can escape once, but can't escape forever. It just makes you more pathetic and cowardly, it won't change anything. You keep reminding yourself to be confident, but you are very depressed by Damian's words.

"Damian, everyone here is worried about her. You are her fiancé, why do you want to belittle her from an outsider's perspective? Instead of giving her enough encouragement and protection?" Your daddy trusts Damian as much as he trusts Bruce, and he knows very well that your mom doesn't agree with the engagement agreement. But he didn't expect that this time the words were too heavy, he could no longer suppress Damian's behavior towards you.

"Superman, I give her enough encouragement and protection, and what? I am her fiancé, but I also have my own ideas. Do you want her to expect something that she can't get in her lifetime?" Damian stared at Clark, without any room for compromise.

"I asked you to come to Metropolis yesterday to check on her situation, as her fiancé. Not as an outsider who would increase her negative emotions." Bruce tapped the coffee table, his tone as if ordering him to shut up.

You cleared throat and took a deep breath. "Daddy, Uncle Bruce, stop it. Let him say whatever he wants. I'm going to take a walk outside."

You left home with a frustrated mood. Your daddy came forward to stop you but you refused. You went to the farm and kicked the pebbles on the ground vent your anger, and kept cursing Damian. At such a long distance, Bruce and Damian couldn't hear what you were cursing except for your daddy's super hearing.

"Damian Wayne you bastard! Stinky Robin! Inconsiderate bastard!" After you cursed, your eyes blurred and felt unwell for a while. You began to rub your eyes, slowly became hot. You couldn't suppress it for long. You shot a red laser light towards the rice field, and it instantly caught fire and burned the rice.

"Oh my God... No no no... Daddy!" You ran towards the house.

Clark's super hearing was always focused on your heartbeat, until he heard your heartbeat was very panic and shouting from afar. He rushed to open the door at lightning speed. The rice in the distance was on fire, and your frightened figure was running towards him.

"Bruce! Watch her! I'll go take care of it!" Your daddy's first countermeasure was to put out the fire. He flew over quickly and rushed to the direction of the rice. A gust of wind blew over your head. He rose in the air and took a deep breath and exhaled in the direction of the fire. After a while, the fires finally disappeared.

You were tired of running and sat on the ground, panting. A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind. It was Bruce, Damian who was standing by and observing. Superman, your daddy landed in front of you, the first thing he did was not to blame you, but to hug you. He released the hug and looked directly into your eyes. The traces of your laser eyes disappeared.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Your daddy gently touched your head.

You shook head to indicate no, and his worried expression made you feel very sad. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, daddy. My eyes were hot just now, that's it..."

"I don't blame you, I just want you to be safe." Your dad locked his eyes on Damian. In fact, he had some hope that Damian would take care of your feelings, just like he silently stayed by your bed while you were sleeping last night.

Bruce stepped forward to observe carefully and found the changes in your thermal vision. "I was amazed. She didn't wake up directly like Jon. She seemed to be changing herself slowly."

"But... it's intermittent, which is unreasonable. Why didn't her superpower burst out directly?" Your dad looked at Bruce in confusion.

"Let's go to the batcave. If we continue like this, I don't know if she will suddenly burst out with something. Damian, it's time to go back to Gotham." Bruce finished his words seriously and took out his phone as if to contact someone.

"Understood, Da-hm? Damian? What's wrong?" Your daddy noticed that Damian was distracted, as if he was thinking in a void.

"Is the method I use really effective...?" He muttered.

Damian cast his eyes on your face. This time he didn't say much but remained silent. You trembled, and suddenly an inexplicable feeling came over you. Usually he always has harsh words on his lips, but this time he is observing you very seriously. Why? Until he approached you and knelt on one knee.

You choked up, suddenly very nervous "Why are you staring at me like that?"

His eyes slowly moved down from your face, which was very different from the usual Damian. You were used to his harsh words, but suddenly he was silent, which made you feel uncomfortable. It was really hard to guess what he was thinking. Your father and Bruce looked at each other, not understanding what Damian meant by his intentions and actions.

Just when you wanted to open your mouth to ask more questions, he picked you up with his left hand. In a panic, you wrapped your arms around his neck. He picked up your shoes with his right hand started walking towards the house. He didn't say anything, nor did he look at you again. He was thinking about a lot of complicated details in his mind the whole time.

"Hey Damian Wayne! What are you doing?!" You panicked.

Clark and Bruce in the back didn't know whether to laugh or stop him, until Clark thought of the words and said, "To be honest, I'm worried about leaving my daughter to your son, Damian's mind is really hard to understand..."

"I understand. As a father, I have no idea either. But Dick once told me that Damian asked him how to treat a girl gently." Bruce put his phone away and walked in step with Clark.

"Huh? Him? You mean Damian?" Clark was so surprised that he almost shouted.

"Hahaha, surprise? I had the same reaction as you at that time and almost spilled my coffee." Bruce chuckled as he looked at the two of you.

"If he was half as considerate as Dick, maybe I would have less gray hair and feel at ease to hand over the life of the little princess to him." Clark breathed a sigh of relief and confessed before combing his hair back.

Bruce stopped his steps, Clark turned his head until he noticed that Bruce's eyes were still on the backs of you and Damian. "Maybe it's unfair to the two of them, but Damian gives me the feeling that he doesn't want Y/N to feel inferior for the rest of her life."

"But he shouldn’t use bad words, right? He's her fiancé after all." Clark was confused.

Bruce shook his head to show that he didn't understand. "I have no idea about my son. I hope they can get along. Maybe there will be some changes in the future."

At this moment, you don't know what to do. Only can wait quietly for him to stop. Damian Wayne doesn't say anything to humiliate you. You want to quarrel with him but don't have the chance. He doesn't express his thoughts. He values ​​his dignity very much, and then uses bad words to hurt others. This is why you hate him.

Damian will steal a few glances at you when you are not paying attention. His emerald eyes wander over you. He is making sure you are intact since you just lost control and used heat vision. He sighed silently, not because he was impatient with you, but because he was thinking a lot about your superpowers.

In the evening, Gotham City, Wayne manor—

Since your daddy and Jon have responsibilities cannot stay with you, you will be taken care of by the Wayne family for the time being. Although your mom is very dissatisfied, the main reason is Damian Wayne. But she still compromised for your superpowers. She added that if Damian makes you unhappy, don't be afraid of him, you are Superman's beloved daughter, you can fight him head-on. You are really inferior to your mom in stubbornness, no wonder your daddy is so obsessed with her.

You followed Bruce and Damian to Wayne manor to stay for a few days. You once did physical ability tests and reports with Jon in the batcave. At that time, you showed no signs of transformation. You were extremely inferior at that time. You still remember that you kept crying and making a fuss, even Uncle Bruce and daddy didn't know how to comfort you.

But there was someone who was very good at making you happy, a very kind butler of the Wayne family. When you got off the car, you saw him waiting at the gate, you felt relieved. It was him, Alfred Pennyworth. He came forward gave you a warm hug, he carried your luggage and walked into the house.

First, Alfred leads you to the bedroom Bruce has arranged for you, which is next to Damian's bedroom. Alfred suggests putting your clothes in the closet first, letting you take a good shower, asking you if there is anything you particularly want to eat, and then he goes to the kitchen to prepare dinner for today.

Damian didn't wait for Bruce to say anything went straight to the batcave. As soon as he stepped in, he was scanned and identified by the system, all the lights and currents turned on automatically. He started the batcomputer and clicked on Jon's physical analysis report. He sat down leaned back in the chair, reading all the details carefully, and then replayed the record of the first time you two experienced the meta analyzer here.

"Little D, aren't you going to accompany your fiancée?" A voice came from behind, it was Dick Grayson aka Nightwing. He stood aside wiped sweat, staring at the screen, which contained a video clip of you and Jon.

"Alfred is taking care of her, I have to be busy with important things." The keyboard made a rapid clicking sound, his fingers kept pressing on each key. He was analyzing all possible factors, and his eyes were all focused on the big screen.

"The important thing is about fiancée or her superpowers?" Dick curled his lips and smiled.

He stopped the movement of his fingers, clenched his fists said stubbornly, "Superpowers."

"You are so tsundere, why don't you just admit that you care about her? Bruce told me that you did it again said bad things to her. Let me guess, domineering play?" Dick turned the chair around and let Damian face his face.

"No, you think too much." Damian turned back to face the big screen.

Dick chuckled, walked over to Damian, grabbed his arm and pointed at his ring finger. "I wonder which stubborn guy loves his fiancée so much that rarely takes off the engagement ring except when he is on patrol."

"Fuck you! Don't say such nonsense-" Damian shook Dick's hand off and tried to argue but interrupted by Bruce clearing his throat.

"Hi, Bruce, welcome back. Where's the little princess of the Kent family?" Dick let go of Damian's hand while trying to hold back a laugh.

"She and Alfred are sorting clothes in the bedroom. Damian, should you be here or with her?" Bruce asked, his eyes fixed on the big screen.

"Alfred is with her. Besides, I have something to deal with now." The keyboard sounded again, his eyes were fixed on the big screen and he was busy.

"Oh my god, you also read the genetic test report? How much do you care about the structure of every cell in her body?" Dick was surprised, looking at the complex analysis system on the big screen.

"Jon's genetic sample was kept, and it has changed over the years. From a mortal's physique to a superpower body." He stopped his finger movement and pointed at Jon's report and said calmly.

"You want her to experience the meta analyzer again?" Bruce asked curiously.

"That's right. Take her genes and send them to the laboratory for analysis and testing. Maybe we can-" Before Damian could finish his words, Bruce tapped the keyboard.

"We can find out if she has changed since the first time." Bruce said.

Damian and Bruce looked at each other and nodded to indicate that it was correct.

Dick looked at the big screen, which was full of your information. Each one was classified in detail and stored in D.W's private folder. "Wait, why aren't your fiancée's things in the Kent Family folder?"

"Don't look at these fucking details!" Damian quickly closed and returned to the homepage of batcomputer.

"Hey, language. Don't let Alfred hear it." Bruce chuckled.

You put the clothes in the closet, Alfred went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. You sat in the living room watching the video playing on the big screen TV. You had nothing to do so went to the kitchen to help Alfred. He saw through your uneasy mood, so he asked you to clean the dishes and put them on the dining table in order.

"Miss Y/N, thank you for your help. I have to go to the batcave to inform them that dinner is ready." He bowed and prepared to leave.

"Ah, okay, Uncle Alfred." You nodded.

Suddenly, an idea came to him, he poked your shoulder smiled slightly "How about we go together? The Batcave has been upgraded a lot in recent years, do you want to visit?"

Your eyes widened and almost glowed "Really?! I want to visit!"

You followed Alfred's steps to the secret passage leading to the batcave. The moment you stepped into the elevator, the door closed immediately, and automatically descended to the batcave floor. You tapped the thick glass cover around the elevator, which was covered with super hard and resistant structural materials. While descending to the bottom floor, you saw Bruce and Damian in front of the batcomputer, and Dick kept waving at you.

Landing on that floor, the elevator door opened automatically. The environment was as quiet and cold as usual, could hear the sound of your footsteps echoing after walking a few steps. Dick rushed towards you, before you could say hello, he picked you up and spun around twice. As gentle and steady as usual, he said optimistically, "Hi~ Long time no see~ Kent's little princess~ Did you miss me~"

"Hello, Dick." You were surprised but happy.

"Ahem, Master Dick. Please put her down, you will scare Miss Y/N. And please take a shower first." Alfred told him with a smile.

"Okay, okay, I know." Dick looked at Alfred's serious expression and laughed. He didn't put you down, just lifted you up walked to the position of the batcomputer and the other two.

"TT, put her down." Damian stretched out hands, and Dick dodged him.

"What? Are you jealous? I won't let her go~" Dick mocked him, but in fact Dick's intention was to expose Damian's jealous side.

Bruce and Alfred held back their laughter dared not laugh out loud, because they watched Damian trying to take you back, Dick held you and dodged Damian's every move. But Dick made a mistake, Damian used his feet to make a fake move towards his knees. Subconsciously, Dick let go of you for a moment, and when the opportunity came, Damian quickly slid over and caught you in his arms with both hands.

At the critical moment, you fell into Damian's arms intact without any pain. Bruce was amazed at Damian's skills, felt proud and impressed because he cultivated him. Alfred applauded Damian because he performed a good performance of a hero saving a beautiful woman. Dick smirked and whistled teasingly to praise Damian's behavior.

"Good job at protecting your future wife. I have to learn this trick. I wonder if Kori will like it." Dick poked Damian's cheek smiled as he left the batcave to take a shower.

"Well done, Damian." Bruce followed Alfred out of the batcave.

Meanwhile, you were in a very awkward situation. The two of you were suddenly alone. You were being cold to him, and he was hurting you with bad words. You stole a glance at him and immediately avoided him. He still wore the engagement ring. Strange, doesn't he hate wearing the engagement ring?

You cleared throat and tried to talk. "Uncle Alfred is ready for dinner."

He glared at you like a sharp knife ready to stab you. "I know."

He let go, and you walked towards the elevator after standing firm. He looked at your back, took a step forward and said, "I hate your inferiority complex because don't have superpowers. Don't think that you should have superpowers just because you are Superman's daughter."

You stopped and didn't even look back. You two obviously don't understand each other, he is like a mirror reflecting the depths of your soul. Why do you expect him to be gentle and considerate? It's a fact that he hates you, and stronger than you because of experience and strength.

Suddenly, a hand hugged your waist, the hand holding your waist was not strong enough to hurt you. You leaned your back against his chest, he lowered his head and his magnetic voice came into your ears, "If you feel inferior again, I will remind you again and again, even if it's bad words, don't indulge in that field. Because... my fiancée used to be a very confident and cheerful girl, even if she didn't have superpowers."

It was the first time heard him say such words at such a close distance. His words were cold and harsh, but with a hint of tenderness. You were shocked and enlightened. Before you could tell him what you thought, his hand loosened from your waist and he walked away from you. He walked towards the elevator door and pressed the button. The door opened automatically. He stepped in and leaned to the side, as if waiting for you.

"Why are you standing there? I'm hungry." For the first time, he was waiting for you.

You gently stroked your cheek with index finger to avoid his gaze, and couldn't help but blurt out the puzzled question "Is your brain broken?"

He rolled his eyes and walked out of the elevator, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the elevator together. "You are the one who is slow, and you are just inferior and jealous."

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the double doors closed then rose automatically. You stood in the corner silently looked at his back with his back to you. You couldn't understand him, whether he was angry or encouraging you, he didn't let go of his hand. He was wearing the engagement ring all the time, you couldn't tell. Daddy always said that he was very similar to Bruce, a little difficult to deal with but a good person. From your perspective, he is more difficult than Bruce!

"Are you angry with me? Do you hate me?" you muttered.

He pinched your hand hard and didn't hurt you. "Don't ask meaningless questions."

"Oh alright..." You were silent while waiting for the elevator to rise.

It reached the manor floor and the door opened. Instead of walking out, he let go of your hand and turned his head to look at you, gently pressing your forehead with two fingers. "I have never had those boring and negative thoughts about you, don't let your mind wander."

For a moment, don't know if it was your illusion, but the corners of his mouth rose, you were stunned in place without waking up from the surprise. Until he noticed didn't hear your footsteps, he turned around, and he waited for you for the second time. He walked towards you step by step, grabbed your arm and pulled you out from the elevator to his side.

"Superman's daughter, the future Mrs. Wayne, be confident." This sentence seemed to be encouraging or mocking you, you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

He put his arm around your shoulders and guided you to move forward. He let go and put his hands in pockets walked in the corridor with you at the same pace. You stole a glance at him, his expression didn't change at all, he looked as proud as usual. He looks like Bruce in temperament, maybe like his mother in personality. So curious about who his mother is.

When you get to the dining room, Bruce and Dick are already waiting, dinner is neatly placed on the table. Bruce puts down his phone taps the empty seat next to him to signal you to sit down. Alfred pulls out a chair asks you to sit down, while Damian pulls out a chair sits next to you. Dick leans forward with his arms on the table, his eyes wandering over your faces.

"Did something happen to you two?" Dick looks at Damian.

"Eh? Nothing, why do you ask?" You take a sip of water.

"Nothing is a good thing. Whatever comes out of his mouth is bad." When Dick's mouth curls up to tease Damian, Damian glares at him like a wolf.

"Bad... maybe there was a moment when I thought he was good..." You blurt out carelessly.

Bruce raised eyebrows blinked several times. He looked at you in surprise and then shifted his gaze to Damian's face. You were drinking water at the moment, not noticing that Damian, who was sitting next to you, had become stiff because of your words. Dick kicked Damian under the table to wake him up, he cleared his throat to calm down.

"Really? Then I hope Damian will always treat you well." Bruce smiled slightly, and Alfred came forward to fill his cup with water.

"Little D, did you hear that? Be good~ and don't be stingy about sharing your love~" Dick whistled and teased him with a smirk.

"Shut up and eat." Damian ignored everyone and started to eat dinner.

Bruce, who was present, breathed a sigh of relief with a smile on his face. Dick kept playing with Damian with his feet under the table. Alfred felt very embarrassed when he saw their ungentlemanly behavior, but he still smiled. There was no bad words or swearing, the atmosphere was somewhat cordial but you were still as nervous as ever.

You chat with them about some things while eating dinner to enhance feelings and interpersonal relationships. Although Damian is a man of few words, it is rare for him to say a few words without hurting others. Bruce thinks this is exactly what you and Damian need. After all, you two don't understand each other. It's always unpleasant to meet each other every once in a while. One of the biggest culprits is definitely Damian Wayne.

Just when Bruce and Dick were talking to you very enthusiastically, Damian noticed that there were a few small tomatoes left on your plate. If you are picky about food at Kent's house, Daddy will choose to help you eat it. If you are picky about food at Wayne's house, it is a big taboo for Alfred. Alfred noticed the remaining tomatoes and wanted to ask about it, but Damian quickly put them into his mouth and chewed them when you were not paying attention.

"Master Damian...you...ah...hehe..." Alfred held back his laughter.

"Shut up, Pennyworth." Damian wiped his mouth with a tissue.

Late at night -

It was a quiet night, the vast room seemed very quiet. You missed your family, the noisy Jon, the loud voices of Mommy and Daddy. You searched the contact list on your phone, pressed the dial button and waited for your family to connect the video call. It was connected in less than five seconds, and Mommy's nagging came at the beginning.

"Little princess! Are you comfortable and happy over there? Have you been bullied by Damian? Did Bruce give you good food?" Lois asked incessantly.

"Honey, calm down..." Clark was seen comforting Lois through the screen.

Jon inserted into the camera and waved happily, "Hi~ Haven't you gone to bed yet?"

Talking about happy topics, time flew by and it was already late at night. They were sleepy and hung up the call first. You put the phone beside the pillow and lay down. You turned over on the comfortable and luxurious big bed without any sleepiness. You were used to sleeping in a single bed at Kent's house, but now couldn't sleep. Looking up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it is indeed Wayne Manor, a luxurious, elegant and noble living environment.

Knock—knock—

You heard a crisp knock on the door, you threw off the quilt, got out of bed and walked to the door. You turned the doorknob and looked out through the crack of the door. It was Damian wearing his Robin equipment. He walked in without your consent, took out a communicator from the utility belt and placed it next to your pillow.

"Pennyworth will stay in the batcave. Father and I will go on patrol. If there is an emergency, use this to notify me." He tapped the communicator.

"Got it, be careful out there ..." you murmured.

"I will." He held the doorknob to leave.

"Goodbye..." You nodded slightly, feeling a little lonely and embarrassed.

He closed the door without saying goodbye. As expected, you didn't understand his thoughts. You picked up the communicator. There was a communication method with the letter R, the abbreviation of Robin. Time passed quietly for an hour, you were not sleepy at all. It was too quiet and didn't dare to sleep, fear that ghosts would appear on the ceiling.

Buzz-buzz-buzz-

You were startled by the communicator, you took it in hand in a panic to take a look. It showed the letter R, it was Damian. You held the communicator tightly began to worry, did he forget to take something? Impossible, that Robin would never make such a low-level mistake. The most forgetful one is Jon. Every time Jon forgets to bring something, it is Damian who prepares and reminds him.

It keeps ringing and you press the answer button "Hello? Dami-no, Robin."

"Still awake." His voice came from the inside.

"Yes, I can't sleep." You were very embarrassed and grabbed the quilt.

"Right...Wait for me, don't hang up." You didn't want to disturb his patrol, but he told you not to hang up. You listened carefully heard the groaning of someone being beaten and the sound of gunfire. As usual, he was busy fighting criminals and saving Gotham City.

It was quiet, no more groans or gunshots, only the sound of the grapple gun and the wind. Two footsteps were heard, he landed somewhere. He drew his sword, as if he was cleaning his weapon, and everything was so quiet.

"Just say whatever you want to say, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep." He said.

You were so scared that almost turned off the communicator. You didn't hear it wrong, it wasn't an illusion. He just said it very clearly, every word to let you know. You choked up and were very nervous. Could it be a trap? After thinking about it, you couldn't understand him. He was really hard to understand. He was harder than Bruce, confirmed!

You took a deep breath, brewed the words, then started to talk to him about some interesting stories you had experienced. There was a moment when he listened quietly, and at some moments, you could hear him fighting with criminals or eating. He also responded to you, without bad words, a few sarcastic words, but not directed at you, but at what you had experienced.

"Then, Jon and I..." You slowly fell asleep.

A wave of sleepiness hit you, you began to yawn. Talking for too long seemed to hypnotize yourself. You fell asleep on the bed, and the sound of snoring came into the communicator, but he didn't hang up the communicator. He was sure that you were really asleep, but he was still listening to your snoring. He chose to accompany you silently in this way.

Batman noticed that communicator was not hung up, he pointed at it and asked, "Robin, your communicator-"

"It's okay. Continue patrolling." He answered stubbornly.

"Robin, you can go back first in special circumstances." Batman found your name on the communicator, he held back a smile.

He was sure that you were asleep, he would only stay by your side and leave before you woke up. He rolled his eyes to avoid Batman, "No, let's continue."

Batman breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled, because he discovered Damian's considerate side, "Okay, continue."

In the morning, the sun shines through the curtains. You wake up and yawn and rub your eyes. The first thing you notice is the chair next to the bed. You raise eyebrows and feel strange. Why is the chair next to your bed? The second thing you notice is the communicator has been disconnected. You check the last call time is four o'clock in the morning.

You are surprised. You fell asleep at about one o'clock yesterday, but the call was disconnected at four o'clock. Could it be that Damian didn't hang up? He has been listening to the sound of your sleep? You feel so ashamed. You are an idiot! Wish your snoring is not unpleasant, otherwise he definitely use this to mock you.

"Miss Y/N, are you awake? I have prepared breakfast." Alfred's gentle call came from outside the door. You’re looking forward Alfred’s breakfast.

"Okay! I'll be down right away!" You get out of bed, wash up in the bathroom, change into your daily clothes, go downstairs after you are ready.

Alfred is pouring coffee, there is no one near the dining table. You just found out that Bruce and Damian, two busy guys, had gone to Wayne Enterprises for a meeting this morning, Dick went to Titans Tower to train with his teammates, Alfred needed to go out to buy some groceries.

You nodded silently to show your understanding, after Alfred left, suddenly the phone at home rang. You were the only one left in the manor, you had no choice but to answer it.

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Tag : @chibiduck

[burningcheese-merchant]

I need Eternal Sugar x Hollyberry content, please!

Dug to the bottom of the inbox mountain for this one lol. hollysugar-merchant, coming at you live 🫵🗣️🔥 (is that what the ship is called? HollySugar? I don't actually know, that's what i got used to calling it)

Eternal Sugar, being a musician, likes to play songs on her harp for Hollyberry. Eager to please, she at first went out of her way to pick up Hollyberrian tunes, knowing that Holly's people and culture are already quite musically inclined and believing it would win more of Holly's favor. After enough reassurance from Holly that she doesn't need to "impress" her (she just loves that Sugar can play something and is good at it, and she cares enough to want to play for Holly), Sugar allows herself to just play whatever song she has in mind at the time. Her goal had always been to serenade Holly and make her happy - and she always succeeds, which was all she wanted, anyway

Lots of brushing and styling each other's hair for fun, I can imagine. Eternal Sugar looks extremely feminine so it's easy to ascribe the "girly" affinity for makeup and hair and fashion and things of that nature to her. She'd love to dote on Hollyberry in this manner: just relaxing in their room, chatting with her while she brushes her hair. And Holly is happy to oblige, because she enjoys it and Sugar is really adorable when she does this

Hollyberry tries to encourage Eternal Sugar to go out and do things a lot, just in general. She can be (and often is, because it's Holly lol) a bit much, which leads to Sugar sort of digging her heels in and maybe them bickering about it, but Sugar at least acknowledges that Holly means well. Old habits die hard, is all. (Harder still when you're a Beast lol)

Sugar is very, very clingy in bed (sleep-wise, you perv lol). She'll curl up next to Holly, wrap her arms around her tight and not let go for anything. Good news is she's not super physically strong (not compared to Holly, anyway), so it's not that big of a hassle to peel her off when it's time to get up. Bad news is Sugar sleeps like the dead, so it's almost impossible to actually get her to wake up and start the day with Holly like Holly wants/prefers. And if/when she wakes up and notices that she is no longer glued to Holly like she was when she fell asleep... oh boy. It's Whinin' Time lol

Sugar finds Holly's family very cute. Her son in particular, just because of how much he resembles her. She dotes on him (and the others, of course; she also loves Princess very much, she's even more like Hollyberry than Royal Berry is) whenever she sees him. He and his friends and family get used to her presence and even welcome her to some degree after they stop being terrified of her lol

Sugar can be quite jealous, and doubles down on that jealousy when the one causing it actively does try to get in the way of her and Hollyberry. She goes back and forth between liking Wildberry and disliking him (Wildberry just dislikes her lol). She is sweet towards Jungleberry until the latter's mostly unshakeable distrust of her becomes a little TOO apparent. It is On Sight with Pitaya Dragon lol (she is VERY unhappy with how often Pitaya wants to spend time with Holly, even if it's only in a friendly capacity and the romantic threat is entirely imaginary. Pitaya just does not like Sugar in any way, shape or form; not really out of concern for Holly's safety or anything, he just thinks she sucks, there's really nothing else to it)

Sorry these are kind of lame :/ there's not enough for me to work with wrt Eternal Sugar. I'm sure I'll think of better things whenever she's added to the game and we actually see what she's like

[moonrisecoeur]

i want to put a collar on leon and call him a precious little puppy 😭

hi there <3

re2 leon is actually my puppy sorry to everyone else who likes him but unfortunately he’s mine i already adopted him :/

she/her pronouns used, afab parts mentioned.

—

“you want to… what?” he’s confused. weirded out, “okay, okay, slow down. no, it’s okay, i’m not mad. i’m just… i don’t really know what to say to something like that. not every day your girlfriend tells you she wants to put a collar on you.”

“i’m sorry, i know it’s weird—”

“no, it’s not weird… okay, maybe it’s a little weird. i just don’t really understand what you get out of that.”

“do you want me to explain?” you ask, and he’s nervous. he doesn’t truly know what his answer is. on one hand, he likes doing stuff for you, likes doing the things you like so you feel good and are happy with him. he likes when you’re happy with him.

but on the other hand, he doesn’t get the whole collar thing at all. he’s never even thought about it.

“it’s not like an everyday, 24/7 thing, though some couples do that, that’s also a thing. the way i’ve thought about it would be just you… wearing it sometimes during sex. i think it’s like… it signifies possession. ownership. it’s not inherently a pet play thing, but it’s related and they go together,” you explain, and he thinks he gets where you’re coming from but honestly? the more that he thinks about it (especially since you told him it wouldn’t be something he’d have to wear in front of other people) he’s less weirded out by it.

“i.. can i think about it? and we can come back to this conversation when i have an answer for you?” he asks, and of course you say yes, appreciating that he didn’t immediately shut you down. you tell him that you already have one that would probably fit him if he ever wanted to see it, feel it before you tried it, that way he could be more comfortable with it solo before you came along.

some part of him is jealous you’ve done this before. to someone else. and you’d just give him the old one you used on them. he tries not to think too much about it.

he thinks it over over the course of two painfully awkward days. it’s not even that you were waiting for an answer, but he just couldn’t even look at you without thinking about it. he did some googling just because he felt like he didn’t really know enough to make the call. he’s never been the super kinky one, but mostly because he never really got an opportunity to explore that stuff.

after doing his research, and deciding that he actually really likes the idea, every single thought in his head became be her good puppy, wear her collar, appease her, obtain her praise, do everything she asks you to, obey her.

and suddenly, over dinner two days later, leon blurts out, face red and hands sweaty, “i want you to put the collar on me.”

you stop, looking up at him slowly. if you were drinking your water, you probably would have choked on it. he has terribly unsexy timing, “baby, can we finish eating? and then we can talk about it?”

he looks down, flustered and nods. great, now he has to live with this embarrassing moment for eternity.

afterwards, he nervously brings it up again, “so… can you?” his saving grace is that he’s terribly cute when he’s vaguely asking for stuff. you know what he wants, and while it would be cute to make him beg, you couldn’t do that to him. (yet! >.<)

you rummage through your drawers to find it. when you do, leon’s eyes widen. maybe the fact that it’s real and actually about to happen is what’s got him so nervous.

you come closer to him, standing right in front of him. he gulps nervously, gazing at you with those pretty puppy eyes that you’re surprised you made it this far without putting a collar on him.

“are you sure you want this?” you ask, “you can obviously take it off at any time and you don’t have to wear it if you suddenly decide you don’t want to or don’t like it, okay?”

“i’m sure i want this,” he says, a little bit more confidently than you expected. he trusts you.

“okay then, pretty thing,” you mutter, and he’s always weakened by those types of nicknames, pretty boy, pretty little thing, pretty baby, etc. he thinks when he hears pretty puppy leave your mouth (he knows it’s coming, god he feels giddy at the though) he’s going to die and go straight to heaven, “on your knees… where you belong.”

your voice, more raspy than usual, commands him and he is eager to follow, knees hitting the floor in an instant; it’s so fast he winces from discomfort. you wrap the collar around his neck, clasping it on the backside, and pulling the small piece of metal attached to it to the front.

“when you take this off, you can see what it says on the tag, okay?” you say softly, and he nods.

he feels a weird shift in the air, like something has changed in both of you. for himself, he feels smaller, softer, looking up at you with the same pretty puppy eyes he normally does, but it’s with an added sense of submissiveness he tends to shy away from. for you, he’s observant enough to see your smile, and also that dark, hungry look in your eyes. you like this.

he thinks he does too, especially when you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp like he’s actually a dog, “precious little puppy, you’re so cute, can’t wait to ruin you entirely,” you murmur almost patronizingly, before catching yourself.

your eyes go back to being soft and kind as you ask him, “is it okay? its a comfortable fit, right?”

he nods, a resounding yes to both. for a brief moment, he wants to comfort you. he wants to say you don’t have to worry about me, just enjoy this. ravage me.

you seem to get the message somehow.

you bending down to kiss him is hotter than he imagined it being, and especially when your kisses make him feel high, like being near you is an intoxicating drug he can’t seem to recover from.

you have your pretty puppy eat your pussy like the good boy he is, and he has no complaints, even enjoying when you pull on his collar to get his attention, even if it’s in a demeaning way. you can demean him. it’s you. he’d let you rip out his heart and ache for you to hold him while he bleeds out, so why were you so nervous about putting a damn collar on him?

he finally takes off the collar when you’re done with him (though excited at the prospect of putting it back on) and wonders what else is in store for him with a girlfriend like you. he wonders if he’ll be able to keep up if you keep thrusting new things you want upon him like this. he’s fine with it, he supposes.

it’s at this point he notices what’s imprinted on the tag. he chuckles breathlessly.

♡ leon ♡

[yanderehsr]

((My I request for Yandere Tighnari, Venti, lyney, Freminet and Wanderer finding out there darling isn't really into short guys to much for like a brother They're more into someone bigger, taller and stronger like Itto, Alhaitham, Nevillete, Zhongli))

Since I only do max 4 characters per post I removed Lyney, hope that's okay with you.

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Murder

Tighnari: You wouldn't be able to see any hurt on the outside, he is good at keeping composure but trust me, he is really close to breaking down right now and just kidnapping you, the only reason he isn't is because others are around right now, he will try to explain to you that he isn't your brother, he is your future mate you can't just cheat on him

Will glare at Alhaitham any time he gets the chance, Tighnari was already jealous of his height but now he is even more jealous, he knows that he can't suddenly get taller so he does the second best thing, he drugs you under the pretense of drinking tea and brings you to his hut, he can't let his mate still think that you aren't made for him.

"How are you doing, do you have any strange side effects... good then let's talk about our future, I got kinda mad about your cheating but let's put that behind us now"

Venti: Nonononononono, this can't be happening, this was supposed to be his happy ending, where he and you could be together forever until the end of time, but not only do you just see him as a brother, you also like Diluc. It just hurts him so much that you can't see him as a boyfriend just cus he isn't tall enough.

Venti isn't having this, you must be his, he doesn't know how he would live without you, you are like an oasis for a man dying of thirst, you will wake up to Venti hugging you in your bed as he breathes in your scent, this is how it should be, he wonders how long it will take for someone to notice where Diluc is.

"So my little songbird, let's try this again, I love you more than anything, more than Mondstadt and it's people, wont you accept this poor bard and become mine, choose the right answer this time, love"

Freminet: He feels hurt, he also feels like crying but he doesn't want you to see him like that, so weak and emotional, he wants to tell you that he isn't your brother, he already has brothers and he knows what he feels for you isn't like that, it's love, pure raw love.

Freminet grits his teeth whenever he sees Neuvillette, it was because of him that he got rejected, oh how he wished that he could kill him, but he knows he isn't strong enough, oh how he wished he was a bit taller, a bit stronger just for you, and oh how he wished you would stop trying to escape as you are chained down to his bed.

"You are just so cruel, why can't you just love me like I am, why must you only like taller people. Well it doesn't matter now, you are mine now, my love"

Wanderer: He looks at you in betrayal, it took a lot for him to admit his feelings for you, and what is this he hears, that you only view him as a brother. But you know what, he isn't your brother, he is your partner, your love, your eternity, don't think this will change that.

Wanderer when he hears how you feel for Alhaitham will scoff, to think you are so shallow to only want to date taller people, he must've corruped your sweet mind, but no worries, he is sure that when you see Alhaitham's severed head you will snap out of such foolishness and embrace him, just like how it should be.

"Stop looking at him, he is already dead and nothing will change that, look at me instead and say you love me... SAY IT RIGHT NOW, I need to hear it, please"

[fashionteahouse]

Can I request a embry call x reader where the reader is a natural flirt and without meaning to she could make anyone even girls blush cause she’s naturally pretty and even tho embry is secure in their relationship he can’t help get jealous when the boys decide to have a little fun and flirt back

alright working right on this!😊 hope you enjoy :)

miss camaraderie - embry x reader

Everything was secure and steady with Embry. It seemed like eternity to get to this point though. You had a crush on Embry but he wouldn’t pick up on the subtle signs you tried to throw at him. You had to straight up tell him, you liked him. This made Embry ecstatic. He couldn’t believe this beautiful girl was his partner.

You and Embry were at the store, to pick up balloons for Sam’s surprise birthday party. You hand the cashier the money for pay for the items. The cashier takes the cash and before she could open the register you take a look at her nails.

“Oh my goodness. Your nails are gorgeous.” You say and peek through your lashes to watch her reaction. She’s flattered.

She smiles and says, “Oh! Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. They’re super cute. Let me see?” You suggest. She reaches her hand over and allows you to take her hand, your thumb tracing over her knuckles as you peer over the designs.

“Wow. So pretty.” you softly say and give her a smile. Her face is flushed and she’s beaming brightly.

You and Embry are leaving out, items in hand. A woman with a cute outfit, that you would even wear, is entering the store.

“Okay gorgeous!” you gush towards the woman. She looks up, turn a bit to see if you’re talking to her, she takes her finger and points at herself to see if you were gifting her the compliment. You nod to reassure.

“Awww thank you, you’re so sweet.” she says. “Wait hold on. Do a spin.” you say to big up her outfit even more. She smiles and laughs at this and does a little twirl.

“Girl, your outfit is cute too!” she says to you, to pay you back for the kind compliment, appreciating you boosting her confidence for that day.

You take two fingers, press them to your lips and blow a small kiss and wave your two fingers up and down, in a bye motion, and give her your best smile. She’s as red as a tomato, smiling from ear to ear, and she takes a lock of hair to put behind her ear and shyly looks at the ground.

You and Embry pull up to Sam and Emily’s, Embry lets you in, holding the door for you. “Thank you handsome.” you say to him sultry tone. He chuckles and follows you in.

“Y/N! Embry!” Emily greets you two and you take turns giving her a hug. She was letting the cake she pulled out of the oven to rest on stove before putting the frosting on.

“Can you two please tie the balloons on the chairs?” She asks. You of course comply. “Love your dress Em. Sam’s gonna go crazy.” you tell her.

She chuckles, amused, “Aw thank you Y/N.”

Just then, Paul and Jacob comes in. Jacob is laughing and Paul is looking annoyed.

Embry looks over and now has a smile creeping on his face.

“What?” he asks, knowing something happened to cause such reaction, he had to hear this.

“Man..Paul got turned down..it was SO funny.” Jacob says while laughing holding his ribs as he remembers the encounter.

Embry chuckles, “Why?”

“Because hes ugly that’s why.” Jared then says from the living room. This only makes people laugh harder.

“You’re not ugly Paul, it’s her loss.” you tell him eye to eye to cheer him up.

Jacob comes over and wraps an arm around you and says, “It’s okay Y/N, you don’t have to lie to him to make him feel better.” this caused more snickers in the room.

“Leave him alone.” You tell Jacob and shrug his arm off. “If I could take you on a date, I would.” you say in Paul’s direction.

“So..If you weren’t with Embry, you would date me.” he says with a smirk.

“I wouldn’t complain.” you say and then lick your lips a bit, this makes his eyes dart to them. You didn’t mean to do it, your lips were just a bit dry. Honest.

You and others move into the living room and Kim is in there chilling on a couch flicking through the television. Once she catches sight of you, her eyes light up and hugs you.

“Y/N!” she pulls back and looks at what you have on, “Cuteeee.” You just turn to the side and lift the back of your leg up a little.

“Right. Your legs look great in that skirt.” Paul comments as he sits down.

Embry comes in and takes your hand and sits you down in a loveseat with him.

Moments later, Emily rushes in with a smile on her face, “Hurry turn the lights out and hide! Sam is coming with Quil any minute now.” she says in a whisper shout.

Everyone is in a frenzy trying to hide, bumping into one another, giggling, and everyone is settled. As soon as Sam walks in with Quil, you all jump up and say, “Surprise!” and hug him. This makes him laugh deep within his chest, kisses his partner, super happy to walk into such a great surprise.

Emily brings everyone in to cut the cake and Quil swipes a small dot of icing, when no one’s looking and put it on your cheek.

“You get on my last nerve!” you say to him, he doesn’t care he’s too busy laughing at your reaction.

“Here hang on.” Quil says and wipes it off with his finger and as you’re watching him, he slowly sucks it off his finger. This made you bite your lip due to being shy about to situation.

While you all are eating cake, you notice Embry being quieter than usual. Usually he joins in the jokes. “Are you alright?” you ask him in a whisper and rub on his back. He looks at you and nods but you know he’s lying.

You get up to throw your paper plate away and Paul needs to get pass to get a napkin. “Excuse me.” he says and puts his hands, low on your waist to move past. Embry is already in the sitting room and when you come in. You’re walking towards him and trip, before you could touch the ground, Jacob holds you up. “My hero.” you say in dramatic way and give him a hug, “You smell good. Mmm”. He did smell good, his cheeks start to turn pink and clear his throat a bit.

You sit down and Embry looks at you, like he’s trying to figure something out. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly.

“I’m going for a walk. Want to join me?” He asks you. You nod with willingness.

He’s up and you follow him out of the door and it’s quiet for a moment until he comes up with something to say.

“Y/N..are you happy?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask in confusion and take his hand, you suddenly get nervous. “I mean…Are you happy?” you ask nervously.

“Of course! Look…I guess…” he starts but then shakes his head in a never mind manner.

“No, what is it?” you press on and touch his arm.

“You’re giving them the wrong idea….the pack I mean.” he finally says.

“How?”

“When you say certain things or do certain things… it’s like you’re leading them on. It seemed like you were flirting with them this whole time we’ve been here.” he says. You think for a minute.

“I mean…How would you feel if I hugged one of your friends and tell them if I weren’t with you, I would date them. Or tell them they smelled good. Things like that.” He explains. He makes perfect sense.

“Ohh..I see… I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to be nice. That’s all. I’m really sorry Em.” You sincerely tell him and take both of his hands and rub them to let him know you actually mean it.

He shrugs and looks down, “It’s alright. I don’t mind if you’re nice but there’s a thing of being..too nice. You know?” You nod at this.

“I’m happy with you. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just save all of that just for you. I’m so happy that you’re in my life right now. I don’t want to do anything that will screw it up.” You say and softly smile at him. He reciprocates this action.

“I’m happy with you too,” he says and puts an arm around your shoulders and you intertwine your one hand with his and put the other hand around his waist, “The guys are not going to read between the lines. You show them an opportunity, they’re going to run with that.”

“I guess you’re right.” you tell him and want to show your affection with lips. You kiss him on his fingers, you look up at him and he’s staring down at you and leans down and you two share an affectionate kiss.

“I guess I’ll tell Paul that he’s ugly.” you say to bring light to the situation.

It works because your Embry is now laughing, it makes you laugh too. His happiness is contagious and it makes your heart overfill with joy and love for the person you are with.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi! I love your work as always!

Can I request Reader, being from the village and being devout to Mother Miranda all their life, hasn’t forgotten their devotion to her and still prays every night. Normally this wouldn’t bother Donna.. but she starts to get jealous. Every prayer reader makes Donna imagines possesive and dark thoughts about Reader praying to her instead. One night during a particularly lengthy prayer, Donna snaps and let’s her dark thoughts consume her by making Reader not only pray to her, but make her worship her. Smut please G!P Donna if you want! Thank you for all you do 🖤

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your support and for your request!!!!Thank you for reading me!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Pray

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, dark themes, dark Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 8,550

Summary: I'm the one who can be your Goddess...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I never asked for mercy, I never demanded a place in this world full of shadows, but still, I got it. I can't complain about obtaining eternal life. I don't even have the right to protest about the horror that the gift of the Gods did to the scar on my face, about how they had fun transforming my body. A life of eternal youth, of power, of having the ability to influence others, to scare them, to make them fear me...

After that second chance, I thought that loneliness was over, but it was just an illusion, a passing thought that never came true. Over time I realized that maybe that was my fate; that I, Donna Beneviento, was born to be a Lord and not a normal, ordinary woman.

My madness existed long before the Cadou, and it continued to exist after. If I was a hermit before, I was a monster now. I didn't really care too much if those poor villagers thought that way, they could call me whatever they wanted.

With a snap of my fingers I could make them suffer, punish them even if I had no reason to do so. Yes, it was funny to play with the lives of those perfect fools, but even that small thrill of creating nightmares in their minds stopped being funny.

Loneliness consumed me little by little without me being aware of it. Thanks to Angie, I was able to bear this new life better, but that had one big difference: I couldn't escape from this life.

Years passed and nothing changed. I began to understand what it meant to be someone like me, to be feared. I never sought out contact with other people. I never wanted to end that loneliness, until I met you.

If I had acted the same way as always, that is, making a stupid excuse not to attend Mother Miranda's sermon… Well, I probably wouldn't have met you.

You were a strange, but beautiful girl. That was the first thing I thought. My black veil protected me from the horrified gazes of those stupid villagers, but it also protected you from seeing me looking at you.

A young girl who wasn't afraid to kneel before the Black Gods, a beautiful growing woman who clasped her hands to pray for her salvation. It was impossible for such a sight not to catch my attention. After all, any kind of contact was new to me, any strange feeling I had when looking at you was a new discovery.

It wasn't love at first. I could say it was more like... Fixation.

My siblings were always clear about their position in the village. They always knew they could do whatever they wanted with those poor souls. Sometimes I wondered what would have happened if I had given in to my instincts, if my approach hadn't been silent.

You would only be one more victim, I would have terrified you. I would have never given you the chance to try to get to know me.

I would have had you, I would have taken you as I imagined so many times in my lonely nights, I would have enjoyed your body but… I would have lost you.

I would have lost that warmth your smile transmitted, the touch of those soft hands, that tender look… I couldn't say if it would have been worth possessing you, claiming you as mine as soon as I met you.

But the good side of my conscience, the side that had not yet been conquered by the demons of my madness was the one that guided me, the one that forced me to repress my primary desires, the one that showed me the right way to have you and never lose you.

Love was always a mystery to me. I couldn't understand what made people feel weak in contact with others. Yes, I had read a lot of novels that talked about it, I knew it existed, but I needed to see it to believe.

Your smile never faded, not even the day I looked for you in the church, when I heard your beautiful voice for the first time. Your voice sounded sweet, much better than any nightmare scream, than any call for help.

After meeting you, I realized how wrong I was about my impure thoughts. Love existed, it lived in you.

Neither my face nor my body stopped you from looking at me that way, one that drove me even crazier, that made me feel like I could fly, that my loneliness had an expiration date.

It was hard for me to understand what an angel like you could have seen in a demon like me, but… Yes, love could do those things. Admitting that I loved before kissing you was difficult for me.

My sister said that love was weakness; that any desire I had shouldn’t interfere with absurd feelings. I didn't listen to her.

It didn't take long for you to live with me, to give in to my pleas. You were so sweet, so tender, so… You.

Then I understood what my sister didn't understand, the difference between loving and satisfying, between asking and taking. Did she ever feel that way about one of her maids? Well, I can't deny it outright, but I'm convinced that she didn't.

Asking you for a kiss was much better than stealing it from you. Caressing your hands was much better than tying them behind your back. They were free to touch me, to slide over my skin in the same way, it was an incredibly pleasurable sensation.

Taking your innocence was much better than stealing it from you, making love to you was much better than raping you, than letting the darkness inside me claim your body.

Enjoying the dance of our bodies, that unmatched feeling of being inside you and looking into your eyes, watching the sparkle in your gaze as you burned with pleasure couldn’t compare to hearing you scream, beg, fight against my attacks.

For once in my sad life, I think I did the right thing, and I don't regret it, nor will I ever regret it.

“(Y/N)?” I asked walking towards the kitchen, where your sweet humming echoed in the walls, like a voice that guided me to you, as an indication that it was not a dream, that love had come into my life, and would never leave, would never dare to do so.

(Y/N), if you ever dared to even think about leaving me... I would lose my mind, I would hurt you...

“Donna…” you said laughing, protesting the kisses that attacked your neck, the effusiveness that my body had every time I saw you in the morning. “Hey, I'm making breakfast.”

I laughed the same way, pushing the hair from your neck and kissing it before leaning on the counter, hypnotized by your beauty, by your way of being.

Sometimes I wonder what you could see in a monster like me…

“Did you sleep well, tesoro?” I asked innocently, without being able to take my horrendous eye off your figure, off that elegance you had, which made no sense in a simple villager like you.

Could love turn a commoner into a princess?

“Oh, yes,” you answered with a soft voice, focused on that magnificent breakfast. “Thanks to the Black Gods and Mother Miranda.”

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat in a playful way, looking away, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, and to you, darling, of course,” you said, running a hand through mine as an apology. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” I said dryly, looking away.

Nothing you had said could make me angry or cool down the desire I had every morning to love you, but there was something, something that sounded in my head like a tedious loop, and that had been doing so for a long time.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding with a smile. “Oh, could you go up and set the table?”

“Sure,” I said, kissing your cheek quickly, coming out of that strange moment, one that was becoming more and more evident.

“You are an angel, did you know that?” you said before I disappeared through the door, forcing me to stop with an involuntary smile as I shook my head.

“That's not true,” I said, trying not to let the darkness take over my words, not to let the demons out of the cage I made for them. “But, thank you…”

I went up in the elevator like every morning, reflecting on how my life had changed. My hands trembled involuntarily when my mind took charge of worrying me, of taking me out of that paradise to take me back to hell.

My life with you was perfect but… Did perfection really last forever? That was, of course, my greatest fear.

Happiness was fleeting, or so they used to say. I try to keep those thoughts away, but sometimes it's complicated.

I know what I am like, I know I am… Possessive, jealous, I don't allow you certain things that should be normal, but I can't help it. Losing you after having raped you would have been horrible but… Losing you when I already know the love you can give me, when I know how your kisses, your caresses feel…

Hell could not compare to that. I would surely hurt you, make you suffer, but you wouldn’t feel the damage, it would be torture for me.

“Hey, you, buongiorno!”  a shrill voice managed to wake me from those horrible thoughts, from those imaginary scenarios in which your smile no longer adorned your face and you begged for compassion.

Luckily, Angie had always been with me. She was conscience that was part of me and at the same time was so different… I wonder if the doll my father gave me stole that part of my personality that never dared to come to light.

“You?” I said with a smile, picking up the doll from the floor and putting her disastrous clothes on, something that always comforted me. “Buongiorno, Angie.”

“Where's the fool?” the doll asked, peeking over my shoulder, looking at the elevator hallway.

“Don't call her that, you know I hate it,” I protested, frowning and leaving the puppet back on the floor.

“Fool, fool, fool,” she repeated mockingly, making me roll my eye as I walked to the cupboard. “Can't I say she's a fool?”

“(Y/N) isn't a fool, stop making fun of her,” I said in a somber tone.

No one could ever insult you, no one.

“Hey, hey, hey, Donna, Donna,” Angie said, tugging on my dress impatiently. I snorted, but stopped setting the table to look at her. “Do you know what that silly… I mean, (Y/N) made me do yesterday?”

“Angie, per favore…” I sighed again, with a serious look, pushing the puppet away from my clothes. “Leave me alone.”

“That silly girl made me pray, can you believe it?” Angie said climbing onto the table to get my attention even more, something she was mysteriously an expert at.

“Pray? You?” I asked curiously, with a mocking smile.

“Yes, me, that silly girl said I had to show more respect for Mother Miranda,” the puppet explained and I frowned again.

“You have no respect for anyone,” I whispered, meticulously placing all the plates and cutlery, not paying attention to the doll’s complaints. “Just do what she tells you.”

“Ohh, I see…” Angie murmured, shaking her head, crossing her arms. “So you defend her, huh?”

“Of course I defend her,” I said seriously, straightening the tablecloth. A perfect table for a perfect girl… as expected. “You know how devoted she is.”

“You only defend her because you play baby-making with her,” she protested unpleasantly, making me look up and growl.

“Basta, Angie,” I said in a stern tone. “I don't know where you learned all that rudeness.”

“From here, silly Donna,” the doll said, hitting my head, making me protest again.

“Ugh…” I complained about the blows. “Stay still, will you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Angie mocked. “It must be very hard for you to be the second, right?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked confused.

It shouldn't be difficult for me to know how to interpret the doll's words, but she knew very well how to confuse me.

“This morning she rejected you again,” Angie said, getting down from the table. “I know.”

“What? Well, she didn't exactly reject me,” I said, remembering that moment when I woke up and my body was begging to be released by your caresses, by yours… “She just doesn't like me to interrupt her while she prays.”

“Of course, of course…” the doll mocked me again, making me snort tired of her attitude. “Oh, Mother Miranda, yes, Mother Miranda… I prefer to pray to you than to let Donna stick her…”

“Taci!” I shouted furiously, clenching my fists on both sides of my hips, breathing heavily. “Stop saying stupid and rude things.”

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” she said with an ironic tone, pretending to bow. “Admit it.”

“What?” I asked, shaking my head and waiting impatiently for you to come up, to free me from the accusations of the doll.

“It bothers you,” Angie said with a proud tone. “That the fool ignores you because she spends most of her time praying to Miranda bothers you.

“It doesn't bother me,” I said, sure of my words. “She is free to pray as much as she wants.”

“Honestly, it would bother me,” the doll commented, with a calmer tone.

It wasn't possible, it was simply not possible for my doll to be able to navigate each of my thoughts.

“I'm not you,” I hissed crossing my arms in a cocky manner. “(Y/N) is the love of my life and I don't care about her devotion to Miranda, it's a good thing, in fact.”

“She would have to be devoted to you and not to Miranda,” Angie explained.

“You know perfectly well that it has nothing to do with me,” I said in a dark tone.

I don't know at what point I insisted on arguing with the doll. You loved me, only me.

“It has nothing to do with you? Are you completely sure about that, Donna?” the puppet asked, before the elevator rang, indicating that you were finally at my side.

I remained thoughtful, searching for a silent answer to that question. No, it didn't bother me, that devotion of yours, that fervent adoration you felt for Miranda was never a problem for me but, as I sat in front of you, helping you serve breakfast, Angie's words traveled through my head.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“I was starting to think you weren't coming,” I said with a fake smile, kindly serving you a cup of that perfect coffee you made. Everything you made was perfect, everything.

“Well, I'd like to say that I stopped getting lost in the basement but I'd be…” you said in a sweet voice, with a slight blush on your cheeks.

“Lying,” I finished your sentence in a dry way.

Sometimes my voice doesn't match my intentions but, of course, you already knew that.

“Hey, Donna!” you said abruptly, giving my hand a soft slap when I reached out to grab one of your perfect pieces of toast.

I opened my eye wide and pulled my hand back, rubbing the place where you hit it with a sad look.

“We should pray first,” you said as you lowered your head, joining your hands together. I looked at you with a frown and then turned my eye to Angie, who was laughing, probably at me. “Come on, sweetheart.”

I sighed, blinking and shaking my head and clasped my hands together as you closed your eyes.

“Great ones, hear our voice, together as one in reverence,” you began with a pleasant whisper, but for some reason, it didn’t feel that way to me this time. “We on thee you within the endless dark, to deliver us into fate’s hands… Donna…”

I blinked, sighing. Of course, you noticed that I hadn’t prayed with you in a while.

Why would I want to pray, (Y/N)? I was a damn Lord.

“Yes…” I sighed with a groan. “Um… Um…

“As the midnight…” you said to help me continue with what I refused to do. Normally it wasn't a problem for me, in fact, I had been hearing that prayer for many years, too many. I just didn't want to do it that day.

"As the midnight moon rises on black wings, so we make our sacrifice,” we said at the same time, “and we wait for the light at the end. In life, and in death, we give glory, Mother Miranda…”

“That's it, you can eat,” you said with a smile once you let your hands go. I looked at you intensely and confusedly.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“Va bene…” I sighed, picking up the toast again, buttering it while I struggled with my own conscience.

No, there was nothing wrong with your fervent devotion. You were a good faithful to Mother Miranda, and that had to be good for both of us, right? Right?

The sound of cutlery was the only thing that could be heard in the quiet morning. A pleasant sound, proof that you were by my side, that your smile was there for me to look up and contemplate it as many times as I wanted. Angie only said nonsense.

“You look beautiful this morning, tesoro,” I commented, daring to break the silence with a compliment, one that caused your body to move nervously, pleased by my words.

You bit your lip without answering, lowering your head to avoid me noticing your embarrassment.

“Donna…” you sighed romantically. “You are very flattering today.”

“Just today?” I asked amused, trying to seduce you with my gaze, something simple, but that somehow seemed more complicated to me. “(Y/N), I, I would like… I would like to change the portrait on the stairs.”

“The portrait?” you asked curiously, blowing on the hot coffee. “Why? It's beautiful, Donna…”

“Well, that's your opinion,” I said somewhat nervously, shaking my head. “You know it's not loyal to reality.”

“Mm, it's true,” you said nodding, resting your head on one of your hands and blinking childishly. “Reality is much better.”

“You’re very flattering too,” I whispered tenderly, playing with the hand you had absentmindedly left on the table, a serious mistake. Mine would always look for it.

“The Gods have granted me a good mood today,” you said with a confident tone that made me suddenly withdraw my hand, forcing my brow to frown again.

Are you completely sure about that, Donna?

“C-Certo,” I stammered, playing with the toast, hardening my gaze, looking away from yours. “I, what I wanted to tell you is that… Well, now that you're with me, I'd like to change the portrait for, for one of us, you know, of the two of us.”

“Really?” you asked with shining eyes, ones that I couldn't resist, that I couldn't help but look at again. “I think it's a great idea, Donna.”

“I thought so,” I whispered, taking your hand again. “I'll talk to Alcina and…”

“Wait, well, it's a good idea but…” you interrupted with a thoughtful smile.

“But?” I asked nervously. “What's wrong, tesoro?”

“Now that you mention the portraits…” you murmured looking erratically around you. “…I've realized that this house is missing something.”

“What's missing?” I asked curiously, looking at the same places as her.

“I can't believe it, Donna,” you said with a stern but at the same time amused voice. “Isn't there a single portrait of Mother Miranda?”

“A portrait of Mother Miranda?” I asked, moving my hand away again, letting the romanticism of that perfect breakfast be distorted by your words.

I couldn't, I shouldn't be annoyed, but I was.

“Yes,” you said, nodding, with an innocent tone and a smile that, of course, wasn't for me. “Well, I know that you're like her daughter and that you're a Lord… But, Donna, that doesn't exempt you from your obligations.”

“Obligations,” I murmured confused, with my heart beating fast, furious for no apparent reason.

“Yes, my love… Mother Miranda loves and protects us and the least we can do is bless our home with her presence.”

I laughed nervously, I didn't know if it was because of how ridiculous that sounded, or because Angie's words made more and more sense.

“I don't see the joke, Donna,” you said with a serious tone, relaxing your smile and crossing your arms

“I'm not laughing…” I said swallowing a growl and shaking my head. “Tesoro, that's not necessary. Mother Miranda is always with all of us, besides, I'm the one who takes care of you and protects you,” I hissed with a voice that was perhaps too dark, perhaps taken out of context, out of place.

For some reason, saying that made me feel good…

“Why can you take care of me and protect me?” you asked with a certain irony, with a tone that made me clench my fists unconsciously.

“Because I love you?” I said, with that same tone, one lacking the love and romanticism with which I always communicated with you.

“No, darling, because Mother Miranda adopted you as her daughter, took pity on you and saved you from your misery. I can't believe you're that ungrateful,” you said with a serious voice, with that smile off your face.

I could think you were joking, exaggerating, but the lack of sparkle in your eyes confirmed my suspicions. Damn, (Y/N) you were completely serious.

“Ungrateful? Me?”  I asked, getting up from the chair and pointing at myself. “I'm a Lord, (Y/N).”

“Mm yes, so that gives you the right to be more important than Mother Miranda?” you answered quickly.

 You weren't stupid, that's why I fell in love with you, although I never thought it would turn against me.

“No… Yes… Well, I don't know, (Y/N), I should be more important than Miranda, at least for you,” I said angrily, fixing my furious eye on yours.

Again, you didn't even flinch.

“Mother Miranda,” you corrected smugly. “Come on, Donna, don't tell me you're jealous of her…”

“Jealous? No, of course I’m not,” I said suddenly, defending myself as best I could.

“You're very nervous, honey. Sit down and relax…” you whispered with a voice that pretended to be calm, with the same voice you put when I lost my mind, when I suffered my terrible crises.

That wasn't one of them. My anger wasn't irrational, it made sense.

“Y-You make me nervous, (Y/N),” I protested, shaking my head. “I understand you are devout and, well, I don't care, but you have to be clear about one thing, tesoro... Mother Miranda isn't here, but I am, do you understand?”

“You are selfish,” you hissed, looking away, something that made me blink in confusion. “Can't there be anyone else in my life but you?”

“Am I selfish for wanting my girl to pay some attention to me?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“I pay you attention, Donna, all you want,” you said, drinking your coffee calmly. “But the Gods don't tolerate blasphemy and I remain faithful to them, as well as to Mother Miranda.”

“Yes, but...” I said confused, starting to lose that argument.

“No, Donna, respect my beliefs, okay?” you demanded with a cold look.

I growled, crossing my arms and shaking my head.

“I'm sorry,” I said after a few minutes of tense silence. “I didn't mean to offend your beliefs, (Y/N).”

“That's much better, darling… Come here, come,” you said with a tender smile, indicating me to come closer and softly kissing my lips. “You know I love you, right?”

Do you love her too? That's what I would have liked to say, but I didn't want to.

“I love you too,” I whispered back, caressing her cheek, a gesture that made you blush again. “Fine, I'll look for a portrait of Mir… Of Mother Miranda…”

“Great, great,” you said excitedly jumping for joy and kissing me again. “Thank you, my love… I'm going to pick this up.”

A nasty laugh reached my ears as you disappeared down the elevator hallway.

“Silly Donna,” Angie mocked, pretending to writhe in laughter on the floor.

“That was your fault,” I hissed, kicking the floor furiously, a fury I couldn’t use against you, I never could.

“Mine? Liar,” the doll protested.

“Ugh,” I growled, with a furious look. “You made me think such horrible things, Angie.”

“Horrible things? Oh, right, you mean that the silly girl prefers Miranda over you…” she said in a sinister tone I tried to ignore.

“That’s not true,” I said to myself, running a hand over my forehead. I needed to relax.

“No? Tell me, Donna, where are you going to put Miranda's portrait, on the bedside table? Yes, yes, that's the best place,” the doll mocked, straining my patience even more. “I'm sure (Y/N) will let you fuck her while she looks at her in admiration…”

“Angie!” I screamed furiously, scaring the doll, who ran away laughing. “Ugh, cazzo… vaffanculo!” I shouted, walking towards the elevator, heading to forget that horrible morning with my dolls, the best I could do.

“Who's the rude one now?”

I never really saw your devotion as something wrong. I met you in church. I knew how faithful you were to Mother Miranda and the Gods.

That was part of your personality. That blind and obsessive faith was part of you, it was something I couldn't take away from you and, honestly, I never saw the need to do so. Every night we spent together, you prayed, you prayed before sleeping, before eating, before… Well, before doing anything.

I even thought it was adorable. After all, Mother Miranda created me.

Every night I saw your devotion expressed in your words, gratitude for being with me, and that relieved me. It could just be a phase, a habit you had when you lived in the village, but over time I realized that it wasn’t like that.

Being faithful to Miranda was fine, it saved me trouble. It saved me from having to protect you more than necessary. You were the perfect villager to the priestess, a brainless zombie who would never question her decisions, or mine.

Again, my older sister's words stirred my conscience. Alcina was probably the most faithful to Miranda, too faithful. I always thought there was something more behind that servitude, something that perhaps resembled what I felt for you.

But that wasn’t important. Alcina's and Moreau's devotion to Miranda was almost as sick as yours, but with one big difference.

I have always wondered what was in the heads of the castle's maids, if any of them had such devotion to the leader of the village.

For me it was impossible to know. I never spoke to them and I rejected Alcina's offer to use them many times.

In their eyes, in their helpful glances, I always saw the devotion that was somewhat similar to yours, but at the same time quite different. They didn’t pray to Mother Miranda, their Gods were not the Black Gods. Their only deity, the only thing those girls cared about was Alcina.

They lived for her, they would give their lives for her, they worshipped her. I would even dare  to say they prayed to her. What I had previously seen as a horrible and disturbing thought began to sound better and better in my head.

For the maids Alcina was their Goddess, for you, your only Goddess was Mother Miranda.

Envy began to make me dizzy. It's not that I wanted to be like my sister, I could never be like her but... While I tried to distract myself with my dolls, the images passed over and over again in my mind.

“Damn it...” I muttered, dressing an inert porcelain body.

I began to imagine what it would be like if you were my faithful devotee, the things you would say to me, do to me, how you would behave if I were something more like Miranda to you. At first they were innocent images, but the darkness of my conscience made me turn away from those simple thoughts in which you only changed by ceasing to pray every night, every hour.

No, that wasn’t enough to calm my soul. Alcina wasn’t a boring woman, she played with her faithful servants; they worshipped her in a carnal way. They knelt before her, just as you did with Miranda.

I imagined you doing the same, worshipping me, praying to me, making me feel like your Goddess, forcing you to kneel before me, to dispose of your body when I, your Goddess, wanted it, in the way I wanted. Dark thoughts, yes, but they sent shivers through my body.

Claiming my superiority over the village vermin wasn’t difficult for me, but… Trying to make you look at me the way you did with Miranda… That would be more complicated.

Lust interrupted my fears, sending me images of you kneeling, caressing me with a smile while your tongue acted divinely, worshipping my body, wanting it inside yours.

Pulling your hair, forcing you to kiss my penis, to worship it as part of my divinity… It deviated from my true concerns, causing my body to act accordingly.

“Oh…” I sighed as the heat began to overwhelm me, as my hand gently passed over my sudden erection, forming a bulge in the black fabric of my dress.

I needed to take you, and I needed it right then.

“Angie,” I whispered to the doll, who was playing distractedly, fortunately oblivious to the excitement of my body. “G-Go call (Y/N), will you?”

“What for?” the puppet questioned.

“Just do it,” I said in a soft tone, stimulating my body discreetly, enjoying the touch of my own hands motivated by my dark thoughts.

“Oh, again…” the doll sighed, stopping just before leaving through the doors. “Wait, (Y/N) isn't here…”

“What? She's not here? Where is she?” I asked nervously.

“Look at the clock, silly Donna, (Y/N) has gone to mass,” Angie said, making me look at the same place, closing my eye when I realized she was right.

Again, Miranda stood between you and me, preventing me from taking you as I would like. My thoughts were becoming more and more dangerous.

“Okay, okay, go away, Angie,” I said, waving my hand for her to leave.

“But…”

“Go away…” I hissed, making the doll shrug and leave the workshop grumbling.

Loneliness wasn't so bad after all. My imagination was playing tricks on me, my body was screaming to be released, but not in the usual way. Lust was asking me to dominate you, it was asking me to see you on your knees, to hear you say how much you adored me.

Surely those obscene thoughts would be part of my excitement and it would pass soon. I could think of many ways to fulfill my desire, to make you mine and only mine but… I knew that wasn't possible. I swore to myself that I would never do anything without your permission, that I wouldn't let the darkness ruin an act as beautiful as making love.

Taking advantage of the fact that you were with your Goddess, I decided to take the liberty of freely fantasizing about that idea of ​​being adored, releasing my terribly excited shaft and starting to caress it while your voice whispered things in my mind.

Mm, you are certainly a Goddess, Donna… My only Goddess… Let me worship you as you deserve…

I’m yours, only yours, let me kneel before you, let my mouth worship you, my love…

Do you like me to touch myself for you, my Goddess? Look how wet I am, do I have to pray for you to take me here and now, or do I have to confess my sins? It's so hard… You are divine, Donna…

Those fantasy voices made me want to stop, not to forget that lustful act with myself, but to enjoy it even more.

Before I met you I used to masturbate often. I didn't do it because I really felt like it. I always saw it as an inevitable need. Yes, I enjoyed releasing myself imagining brief encounters with one of the maids, even sometimes, just sometimes, I wanted to pick up the phone, call my sister, and use one of them.

But it was something temporary. My body's need was different from pleasure. No matter how hard I try, I can't remember a stimulation as pleasurable as that.

My hand moved slowly. I closed my eye to see you better, to imagine that it was your hand and not mine. Envy, jealousy... I didn't really care about the reasons for my behavior. I only cared about making it seem as real as possible.

The idea of ​​it being a wet fantasy distracted me, but the pleasure of my stimulation was much greater, making me speed up, enjoying every movement while I moaned in a whisper, saying rude things that, even if you were in front of me, you wouldn't be able to understand.

There came a moment when my own movements got out of control, when the pleasure of imagining you being my devotee devoured the calm with which I caressed myself.

“Cazzo…” I protested, shrinking into myself, quickly looking for a nearby napkin before I released. It was a too pleasurable release.

The napkin shone with my lust and I could only think of one thing… How it would look inside you…

As I cleaned myself in the sink my conscience navigated confusedly. Somehow I thought of you in a dark way, in a sudden way. That wasn't you, you weren't kneeling in front of me, you never would be.

Should I regret having transformed you into someone else while I touched myself? Could it be considered cheating? Have I done something wrong? Did you?

The logic I had left told me I should. The darkness had consumed me. The jealousy had gone too far, but… In a strange way, I couldn’t feel bad about it.

Maybe, deep down, that’s what I wanted.

Of course, I never mentioned what I did. It was just a moment of nervous lust, of possessive madness.

Our life continued as always, even little by little, I got used to the portrait of Miranda you made me look for. Every time I passed by her, I got chills, I thought about what you would do to her if she were there, what things you would be capable of doing for her, for your Goddess.

I wanted to get away from those thoughts, from those dark impulses, but I couldn't do it. Every night, as always, you continued praying, praising your deities, leaving me aside, abandoned during those minutes, those in which I believed I wasn’t the most important thing in your life.

Your prayers slipped through my ears, I stopped understanding them, hearing them. I could only hear the voices in my head. I could only imagine you in front of me, saying my name instead of Miranda's.

The tension passed through my mind, penetrating my body, my words. You knew something was wrong with me, but you didn't dare to ask.

What would you think of me if I told you that I wanted to be your Goddess?

I didn't know and it terrified me but... What really scared me was the loss of that logical thought, the constant imagination that disturbed and dirty my mind. I was scared, but of myself, because, as time went by, I began to stop wondering what you would say, what reaction you would have.

I didn't care anymore, my conscience stopped controlling my dark thoughts and that was dangerous, very dangerous...

“Mm, let's see... I also want to thank you for...” your voice sounded almost inaudible to me, like every night, you prayed tirelessly while I unbuttoned the top of my dress.

At least you no longer forced me to pray with you.

“I want to thank you for granting me the undeserved gift of being able to be with Donna,” you prayed whispering, kneeling in front of the bed.

Those words took me out of my internal struggle against darkness, forcing me to look at you with a tender smile, even though you couldn't see me.

“You saved her, Mother Miranda, making me the happiest girl in the village, allowing me to get to know her, to discover the wonderful woman she is.”

As I continued with the buttons, I laughed shyly, blushing, getting up to be a little closer, sitting next to you and lifting your chin.

“Bellisima…”  I whispered affectionately as your eyes opened, the smile had returned to your face, but, delicately, you moved my hand away from it.

“Shh, wait, Donna, I'm not done yet,” you said whispering, as if the Gods or Miranda were able to hear you

I nodded calmly, without getting up, looking at you with the devotion I wanted for myself.

Were you my Goddess?

After you flattered me in your prayers, your words deviated from that pleasant path, starting to pray for the villagers, for my siblings, for every living being that diverted your attention from me.

Normally you didn't take that long, and it started to make me nervous.

Nerves could be controlled in a normal person, but I wasn't a normal person. I was sick, my mind was damaged and there were many reasons why I couldn't control myself. Logical or illogical reasons, my mind made no distinctions.

Your words stopped relaxing me, your voice began to sound unpleasant, my fists grabbed the sheets to contain that rage, that madness with which, surely those stupid Gods, cursed me at birth.

“(Y/N),” I said in a whisper, putting a hand on your shoulder, one that you slowly removed. “Hey, tesoro…”

“Wait a minute, Donna, why are you so impatient?” you said with disgust, moving away from me.

I had been putting up with that contempt for too long.

“Shut up!” I shouted nervously, getting up from the bed with a grunt. “Stop praying!”

“What's wrong with you?” you asked, getting up from the floor and rubbing your knees. “Have you gone crazy?”

“Yes, yes, you're driving me crazy, (Y/N),” I hissed, pointing at her with my finger. “I've tried to ignore it, I really have,” I said, approaching you in a threatening, dangerous way.

“Let's see…” you sighed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. I hate when you do that, honey, I hate when you take me for a stupid crazy woman. I, am, your Goddess. “What's got into you now?”

“Don't treat me like a fool…” I hissed again, getting even closer, grabbing the collar of her dress roughly. “I'm not a fool…”

“You look like it, Donna, come on, be a good girl, let me go, you're going to spoil my dress,” you said, struggling with my grip.

Your scared eyes are my weakness. I couldn't help but obey you immediately.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured, smoothing your dress again, being able to regret having done it. “No, I'm not sorry.”

“What?” you asked frowning. “Donna…” you growled.

“I'm sick of putting up with this, (Y/N) of you humiliating me like that,” I said, threatening again, but keeping my hands off your clothes.

“No one is humiliating you, Donna, it's all your imagination,” you said in a slightly softer tone, bringing a trembling hand to my cheek. “Shh, darling... My love...”

“How can you say that?” I asked nervously again, pushing your hand away with a sharp blow. “Are you laughing at me? You think that by saying nice things to me you can fix everything, right?”

“I don't even know what's wrong with you,” you sighed desperately, stepping back, scared.

Gods are feared, right?

“If you like Mother Miranda that much... Go ahead, go with her, let her do all the things I do to you, I'm sure that's what you're wishing for,” I whispered, looking away, feeling a cold breeze on my body.

My blouse was unbuttoned, but what I really felt was the coldness of my heart.

“Of course…” you said with a sufficient smile, snorting with a mocking gesture. “Forget about your stupid jealousy. I've told you a thousand times that the devotion I feel for her has nothing to do with what I feel for you.”

“Devotion…” I sighed, looking at the ceiling, controlling my anger and my carnal desires as much as I could. “Devotion?! She doesn't deserve your devotion!”

“Who says that? You?” you answered, apparently calm. “I can't believe you think that way about the woman who made you the way you are now, who named you Lord, her daughter… Donna, don't you understand that I adore Mother Miranda? Don't you understand everything she's done for us? For me?”

“For you? What has Miranda done for you, huh?” I asked in a more dangerous tone, grabbing you by the shoulders with a look that wanted to be scary, but was pathetic.

I was lost.

 “I'm the only one who takes care of you! I'm the one who allows you not to work because you live with my money! I'm the one who puts a fucking plate on the table every day! I'm the only one who loves you, who treats you the way you deserve! It's me, (Y/N), do you understand? Me!”

“Donna,” you sighed, moving away from my hold with a strange, thoughtful look. “Honey, you never talk like that…”

“I'm sick of you thinking Miranda is your Goddess… Sick, do you hear me? She has no right to be idolized, to be prayed to! The only one you should be praying to is… Me!” I finally shouted, making my voice echo off the old walls, making an uncomfortable silence fall on our shoulders.

“Donna…” you murmured after a few terrible moments, guiding your hand to my cheek, wiping away a tear that came out due to my anger, due to my irrational fury. “Gods… Y-You’re right…”

“Cosa?” I asked, shaking my head. I thought my ears were betraying me, but that didn’t seem to be true. “W-What…?”

“It's true... You, you've done so many things for me...” you sighed with a relaxed smile, getting closer to me. “Forgive me, Donna, I didn't want you to think that Mother Miranda is better,”

“Um, yes... Okay,” I said confused, looking away, but enjoying your caresses.

The darkness which had me trapped wandered freely through my mind, my eye traveled over your body.

“I promise I'll pray less, okay?” you said with a sweet voice.

My gaze hardened, letting the shadows control it, controlling the hand that grabbed your hair tightly without hurting you, or so I like to think.

“Uh, hey...” you said laughing at my abrupt attitude, at the way my nails dug into your waist as I dragged you towards me.

“I don't want you to pray less, (Y/N),” I whispered, getting close to your ear, sinking my teeth into your skin, pulling your head so your neck was exposed. “I want you to pray… To me…”

“What…? What do you mean?” you asked with a broken tone, nervous because of the tickling of my lips on your skin, because of the strength of my hand tangled in your hair.

My demons sketched a smile on my face and my mind saw that forbidden, repressed dream getting closer and closer.

“On your knees,” I whispered with a cold voice, with a proud, cocky one, typical of the Goddess that I was, of the Goddess that I wanted to be for you. “Get on your knees!” I shouted when your gaze remained confused and your head moved from side to side.

You screamed, but not in an unpleasant way. I helped your body to go down to the desired place, at my feet, on your knees before me, where you had to be.

“Okay…” you sighed, arching your eyebrows, biting your lip.

Did you know what was going to happen? I doubt it.

“Worship me, (Y/N), show me your words are sincere, that I am your only Goddess,” I ordered you, pulling your head so your lips rested on my skin and began to kiss it.

You obeyed like a good girl, without complaint, panting from the impression, but comfortable with the situation. That only made me want you more.

Your kisses were soft, hot but demure, as if you were really kissing something sacred. I enjoyed the vision of having you worshiping me, of being able to feel all the things I imagined every night. It was much more incredible than I thought, much more.

“Pray,” I said softly, with a gentle tug on your hair. I wanted to feel your lips moving on my skin, I wanted to feel the vibrations of your praises on my belly, close, very close to me.

“Great ones…” you began with a nervous voice, not letting your kisses cool my desire, running your tongue over my skin.

“No, not that one, silly,” I said amused, pushing you away from my body. “I want you to pray to me, come on…”

“I don't know any prayers…” you said nervously but with an anxious gleam in your eyes, one that made my evil smile widen.

“Then use your mouth for something useful…” I whispered, bending down to kiss you briefly, to pull your lower lip with desire, but not letting you enjoy it.

Oh, (Y/N) that night wouldn't be for you. That night was only for me.

You nodded, with the look I was looking for so many times while you were praying… My hand went through the black fabric of my skirt, running over the bulge that had already formed on it, caressing it, watching your reaction, how your body trembled when you saw it.

“Do you want it, (Y/N)?” I asked, playing, grabbing my shaft over the fabric, showing you how you made me feel and how I liked being your Goddess…

You nodded again, scratching my legs, letting me see for myself how much that situation excited you.

“Beg me, (Y/N),” I hissed, bringing you closer to my hidden erection, making you feel desperate to reach it, to give me the pleasure I deserved. “Ask me to let you worship me…”

“Please, Donna…” you whispered, kissing me over the dress. Something I didn't ask you for, but I couldn't deny you. The warmth of your lips was all I needed.

“Donna? Wrong, tesoro…” I laughed amused, pulling your hair in reprimand. “I’m your Goddess, (Y/N), don't forget that…”

“M-My Goddess, please let me worship you… Let me…praise you…” you whispered, bringing your mischievous hands to the edge of my skirt.

I moaned in satisfaction, controlling my own desire. That was what I wanted. What do you think, Miranda? She'll never do that to you…

Happy to please you, I released my erection, being quickly caressed by your lips, watched by your eyes, which this time didn't seem to want to close. Your mouth approached slowly, but you knew you couldn't play with me, you shouldn't.

Your tongue ran slowly over my skin, making me moan embarrassingly and your hand joined in the fun when I was completely inside your mouth.

“Così buono…” I gasped, daring to close my eye, to control your head with my hand while your mouth embraced me intensely, while your tongue played with the tip, making my legs tremble.

I didn't want to seem weak, and I scolded you with a tug on your hair. None of that seemed to make you stop.

“You're so perfect, Donna…” you whispered, calling my attention. My hips played on their own, moving to adapt to your kisses, to your playful tongue taking me to the edge. “I've been stupid… You're my only Goddess…”

“Don't forget it, tesoro…” I said calmer, moaning when your movements continued, when your mouth embraced my erection, sucking it slowly while your hand moved it at will.

“She'll never love you like I do, do you understand?” I asked, trying to distract myself, with the darkness coming back to torment me again. “She would never let… Cazzo…”

“I know, my love… I know,” you whispered, tickling my skin, resuming your kisses, trying to keep up with the increasingly frenetic rhythm of my hips.

“Okay, that's enough,” I said suddenly, on the verge of my release.

No, (Y/N), it wasn't going to end there. Your face covered with me wasn't enough at that moment. I needed something else. I needed to possess you forever, to take you by my grace, by the glory of the one who would always be your Goddess. Me, only me.

“You are delicious…” you whispered with a wet moan. “I want to release you, my Goddess, I want to taste you.”

“You ask for too much, tesoro… I'm not a merciful Goddess…” I said amused, lifting you up roughly and pushing you against the bed.

You moaned in surprise at my roughness, but my hands kept you from turning around. You had no right to look at me. I wasn't going to let you do that.

Without waiting for a response or any protest, I lifted your dress and pulled down your underwear while spanking you, making you squirm. That was just what I had imagined.

“Che bagnata sei…” I whispered in your ear, leaning over you as my fingers ran through your wet folds. Your words could lie, but your body couldn’t. It adored me, needed me…

Without the gentleness with which I usually took you, I introduced my erection inside of you. Your walls were overwhelmed at first and your mouth emitted a moan of pain that I ignored.

“So… big…” you murmured with a moan that bathed my ears, that gave me the silent permission I needed to continue, to move without asking and for your tight entrance to hold me tightly, to worship me…

“Everything I do, I do it for you, amore mio… You, just have to… Remember… Who you belong to…” I moaned at the same time as my hips moved carelessly.

“Gods Donna, you, only to you,” you moaned when your body began to move on its own as well, joining the thrusts of my hips.

My hands scratched your skin, marking it as theirs forever. There would never be anyone else in your life, only me. You would pray to me, you would worship me, only I would exist in your life. You would be much more than my maid. You would be mine, forever.

Spilling my seed inside you was much more pleasurable than other times. It was a sign, an explosion of unmatched pleasure, an act of darkness and passion, a fierce desire to be part of you, for you to always have me.

“Oh, Donna…” you said, catching your breath, moving, making the wet mixture of your entrance slide down your legs, becoming the most beautiful vision of my life.

“I don't want to hear you pray to anyone but me, do you understand?”

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!    

a/n: thank you to the beautiful creator of the grown-up Neteyam photo! P.s. I’m sorry for the crappy screenshot photos of the only Na’vi mating bond we see. I tried my best :’)

Warnings: spoilers for Avatar 2

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ        

ISFJ

Gryffindor

Lawful Good

8 of Pentacles

Leo Sun, Virgo Moon, Libra Rising  

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・You were the eldest of Tonowari and Ronal’s children. A Metkayina leader of the future. 

・You have many skills, learning from both your parents and the other members of the clan. A great hunter, creator and a deep love for the ocean. 

・Eywa was a big presence in your life, something that your brother, Aounung was jealous of 

・Tsireya idolises you, and when she was younger, all she wanted to do was be around you

・However, you weren’t very outgoing, and preferred the company to one or two friends - or mainly yourself whenever you got the chance

・You have your own Tulkun, whom you love dearly. They’re incredibly protective of you, as you are for them. 

・That’s where you spend the majority of your free time - talking with your Tulkun. You have an incredibly close bond, almost like telepathical 

・When the Sully’s sought refuge, you were one of the first to speak up in their defence

・Not only did you like the look of the Omaticaya people, but you were curious about their ways. 

・You wanted to learn more - grow as a Na’vi. You wanted to be someone with an open-mind. 

・It was why you got along so well with your sister Tsireya, Aounung on the other hand was a bit of a challenge. He always had been. And being the middle child, he definitely liked to act out 

・You formed a close friendship with both Tuk and Kiri. You always found the young ones funny. It was your instinct as the eldest child to look after the younglings around you. 

・And with Kiri, you loved her connection to the land. You could watch her for hours as she interacted with the environment around her. 

・You could see that she was special; Eywa had something incredible in store for Kiri. You just wished the rest of the clan would accept them

・But your eye was always searching for Neteyam, the eldest of the Sully kids

・Almost like a guardian angel, you were there when he needed you most. And your brother would tease you relentlessly, but Tsireya understood. She encouraged you to pursue Neteyam

・As you encouraged her to pursue Lo’ak 

・And your romance was slow. Even though you both had deep feelings for each other, it was like neither of you could confess it. For one reason or another. 

・You spent time together, teaching him the ways of your people. He was especially interested in the coming of age rituals. Neteyam wanted to participate. 

・You told him he didn’t have to, that accomplishing the Omaticaya rituals was enough. But not for Neteyam, he wanted to prove himself. 

・Then, when the event happened with Quaritch, everything changed. 

・ Luck, no, not luck. It was destiny that you were there to save Neteyam. 

・What would have been a bullet would was only a flesh wound, however, it did cut him deep

・The Sully’s were eternally grateful, Neytiri especially. She nearly lost her firstborn, and for that she felt indebted to you. 

・However, Neteyam was wounded, and it took him a month to fully recover. You visited him everyday, bringing fresh food and changing his bandages. This was how you two grew close. A deep bond was formed. 

・You both felt Eywa’s presence when you looked into each other’s eyes and finally realised who you were to one another. Mates. 

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・The mating ritual is the same for every Na’vi, it’s the connecting of the queues, from nightfall until sunrise. 

・The mating ritual and sex are two different things, but ultimately the Na’vi only have sex with one other for their entire lives. 

・And although Neteyam would have loved to perform tsaheylu underneath the Tree of Souls, the Metkayina don’t stay underwater for that entire time. 

・Some may choose to visit the Spirit Tree and connect for a brief moment while holding hands, or to choose a secluded spot and invite Eywa’s presence 

・You chose to do both

・Both of you swam down to the Spirit Tree and connected to it, seeing each other through the other’s eyes 

・You could feel the other’s love and devotion 

・After opening your eyes, you kissed and swam to the surface, where you found a vacant part of the beach to stay until the next day

・Connecting with Neteyam was like nothing you had ever experienced before. You were able to feel his pain, his happiness, the weight of responsibility and the dedication Neteyam has to his family 

・In turn, Neteyam felt the same. For you both had the duty of being the first born

・When the mating was completed, it was announced through all the clan that you were together 

・Tonowari held a great feast in your honour. He was more than proud, as was your mother, sister and brother 

・You had completed a big part of Na’vi life, and the Sully’s welcomed you into the family with open arms. Especially Neytiri, once she got to know you and how good of a hunter you were 

・Sex is different then mating, but you still connect your queues nonetheless. It intensifies the bond, and completely takes hold of your body, mind and soul

・Neteyam is a soft lover, he likes to make you feel loved, safe and worthy

・His favourite thing is to bite your neck though, especially when he’s in midthrust. It’s like another way of combining your bodies. He wants to be as close to you as possible

[uselesssomebody]

𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕤 - jake lockley x reader

complete masterlist | mcu masterlist | moon knight masterlist

words || 𝟚𝕜

moon knight spring '24 bingo prompt + progress || 'bruise'

summary || in which jake gets a little jealous

a/n || so excited to be part of this event by @moonknight-events, my board looks so fun! check out their blog for a shit ton of other moon knight content by a bunch of other creators!

➵ ask if you wanna be added to a taglist

➵ heed the warnings in said masterlist, this series is 18+, and inherently dark

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/smutty, but no sex

jake didn't take fares between 5 to 6 p.m.

he'd postpone his break so late, just to ensure he was always on time to pick her up from work. it annoyed him enough that he couldn't also drop her off, but the smattering of kisses that she'd pepper over his nose and lips before he left early for work made up for some - not all - of the worried thoughts he had of her commuting to work on her crowded subway train.

she finished work everyday at 5:00 on the dot, not hesitating with goodbyes and salutations, knowing who was waiting outside her building, just for her.

he stood outside his cab, hand on the passenger door handle to let her when as she usually bounded out of work, a beam on her face when she saw him. he checked the time, a cigarette almost half-smoked between his bare fingers - he wasn't getting his leather gloves ashy.

5:15.

what was taking her so long?

he hated having to wait for his girl: seeing her face after driving around the city - a somewhat lonely profession - was the best part of his day.

he slumped his shoulders, leaning against the car door, as he peered over the dark, but lively street. it was a row of offices, and other people were also clocking out. bored, he watched the gray cloud of smoke from his mouth, trying to distinguish it from the puffs of his warm breath showing up in the chilly air.

5:20.

5:25.

5:30.

he was starting to get concerned.

finally, after an eternity of waiting - see: 35 minutes - his face relaxes when he sees her hurriedly walking out of her work. immediately after, his brow furrows, at the sight of the man following behind her, a big, stupid smile on his face, mouth moving a mile a minute.

she looks up, noticing jake, and her face breaks into a look of pure relief, finally, a pep in her step as she nears her boyfriend. before she can greet him though, the guy behind her grabs her shoulder, whipping her back around.

jake's eyes widen at the little fucker's audacity.

he's saying some bullshit, holding onto her shoulder so can't turn back to jake, and the steam coming out of his ears leads him to only hear:

"... come out for a drink with me... really pretty... love to take you out-"

it's more than enough.

he calls her name, voice stern, but not to her. never to her. she whipped her head around, not turning as she mumbles a weak goodbye to the man, finally completing the short distance to jake.

she kisses his cheek quickly in greeting,before waiting for him to open the door, but he pulls her a little closer by the waist, pressing her body against his.

"let me kiss you properly, mi amor. i haven't seen you all day." her cheeks heat. he literally never does this, waiting to properly express his love after they got home.

"he's still looking?" she guesses, and his lips quirk in a smile, as he presses his lips to her soft, slightly parted ones, revelling in how she sinks into the comfort of his warmth.

"like a kicked puppy." he murmurs into her lips, and she giggles, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before pulling away.

"baby, open the door, i'm cold." she whines, and jake obliges her, pulling open the car door so she can sit back against the warm interior and crisp leather that he worked hard to maintain.

she only spares a glance at the other man. he's looking away.

"so, who was that?"

it had taken a couple hours, as well as the both of them reclining to the warmth of the couch - takeout clutched in their hands and a sitcom on the t.v. - for jake to finally ask the question nagging at the back of his mind.

she groans softly, hoping he'd forgotten. a silly wish.

"no one, jake." she murmurs quickly, to his immediate dissatisfaction.

"nuh-uh, amor, you have to give me more than that. he put his hands on you!" he said it like it was some inexcusable crime, and it made her giggle.

"he's just..." she sighs, chewing on her bite, "he's the new guy, y'know?" jake's eyes narrow.

"how long has he-"

"don't ask." she interrupts, knowing he'll be more upset if he found out the new guy's antics had occurred before. jake scowls, and she rolls her eyes, turning in the couch to better face him.

"jake~" she says his name softly, in a sing-song voice, prying the food from his hands and placing them on the coffee table. she cups his cheeks, running her fingers over his hair - messed up by that flat cap he always wore - and the little stubble on his face that he'd begun growing out when she professed she wanted to see him with a beard. she climbs slowly into his lap, guiding his arms to rest on the curve of her hips, "jake?" she finally asks again, as she's settled in.

"yes, mi amor?" his voice is gruff, as he lazily looks up at her. he's not shocked by her movements, happy to have her so close, but is still evidently stingy about the new guy.

"remind me, who did i go home with today?" she asks, rhetorically. jake rolls his eyes as he looks up at her.

"me, amor, but-"

"and who am i most excited to see whenever i leave work?"

"also me, but-"

"and who is the only person who gets to touch every part of me?" her voice drops to a whisper, guiding his warm fingertips under her shirt, to the skin of her midriff.

"me." he breathes out.

"you...?" she prompts.

"only me." satisfied with his answer, she leans down to press a soft kiss to his lips, cupping his scratchy cheeks, and giggling she he squeezes her hips.

"and who do i love?" she whispers, when she breaks away for air.

"i hate when you talk to me like a child." he chides, changing the subject, and it makes her giggle.

"wrong answer, try again." he raises a brow of challenge, before pulling her closer, and then standing up, his palms splayed under and cupping her thighs so he could carry her into their bedroom. she squeaks in shock, clinging onto him, "what're you doing?!"

"showing you why you love me."

falling unceremoniously on the bed, she lets out a small 'oof!', but its cut short by the way his mouth captures hers in a hungry kiss.

"someone's needy," she teases, when he breaks away, but it's cut off my a small moan, as his tongue travels down the length of her jaw, to her neck.

"i'll beat the shit out of him if he touches you again." jake grumbles into her skin.

"are you kidding? he obviously knows i have a boyfriend, he's leaving me alone." jake's head emerges from where he's kissing at her neck.

"hmm..." he looks contemplative, "maybe... he could do with a little reminder."

she's unsure what he's planning, but his devilish grin tips her off that it's going to be an idea she might chastise him for. indeed, it is.

his head sinks back down. finding the flesh of her neck, and rolling it gently between his teeth, before clamping a little harder, and sucking. so enamored by the sensation of the slight pain laved by the tingles of his warm tongue, she doesn't realize what he's doing for a moment.

"jake!" she squeaks when she realizes, "you can't - can't mark me!" his laugh is gruff against her skin.

"why not?" without waiting for an answer, his teeth nip at the skin under her collarbone. she gasps at the feeling, trying to tug at his hair to dissuade him - to no avail.

"oh, baby, it's such a pain in the ass to cover them-"

"then don't." the curt response renders her speechless for a moment, enough time for his teeth to sink into the flesh of her shoulder.

"you want him to see..." he laughs.

"that sure took you a moment, amor." seeing as she doesn't meaningfully try to stop him, he continues his work, teeth sinking into as much of the expanse of her neck and chest as he could reach.

they're blue and purple the next morning. she looked like she'd been attacked by something. her eyes quite literally bugged out of her head at the sight.

groaning, she reaches for her makeup bag. jake peeks his head into the bathroom, immediately taking the bag from her hands.

"jake-?" her brows furrow in confusion, but she's cut off by how his other arm wraps around her waist, looking at her in the mirror to see all the bruises smattered over her skin. she reaches blindly to take back her makeup, but he evades her hands, "jake, i need to do my makeup!" she whines softly, making her laugh and kiss her cheek.

"you're gonna cover them up." she scoffs.

"of course i'm gonna cover them up, i look like i was in an mma fight with a raccoon!" he shakes his head.

"no, you look like you had fantastic, animalistic sex with your boyfriend." she cringes a little, laughing.

"and why do my poor coworkers have to know that?" he deadpans.

"as long as your newbie knows." he murmurs, a little bitter, as a finger goes to trace the bruises.

"are we seriously still on that?" she turns to face him, kissing his cheek, "i thought i told you he's just annoys me a little." she assures.

"oh, trust me, amor. he won't from now on."

he didn't let her put her makeup on - even for her face, not trusting her to not start covering up those beautiful marks. instead, with the time she saved in between waking up and eating breakfast, he pulled her back to bed, kissing over each and every bruise, as their coffee water heated.

"you know i love you, right, jake?" she murmurs softly into his forehead, kissing his hairline.

"of course, mi amor. i love you, too." 'she's being so sweet, isn't she?' he thinks.

"can you tell me where you hid my makeup bag?" he snorts, shushing her with a kiss to the lips.

"fat chance."

he's waiting outside her work again, squishing his cigarette under the toe of his shoes as he sees her walking out. with no fucking newbie chasing after her.

"how was work?" he asks, as she presses her daily greeting kiss on his cheek.

"good." she answered, a big smile on her face, as he slowly opens the passenger door. before she sits down, though, he gestures to her neck and chest.

"show me." he instructs, and she laughs, pulling off her scarf to show that the bruises were still well-pronounced. it makes him smirk, as he nods appreciatively, sitting down.

as he peels away, he glances at her, noticing her happy attitude.

"so, did newbie bother you? should i say 'i told you so'?" he teases, and it makes her a little embarrassed.

"i... no, he didn't bother me." he grins.

"tell me more, come on."

"he... looked horrified, if i'm being honest." she giggles.

"good." his response was curt, but his smug smile spoke 1000 words. as he stopped at a red light, he leans over to peck her lips.

"so, should i say it?" she smiles, indulging him.

"go on."

"i told you so."

[nene-san49]

Is It Osomatsu Summer Yet?

If you make it to the end of this i'm impressed.😆

Okay so I don't really want it to be cause where i live I am going to be miserable buuuuuuut, the Summer Anime Season is where I am looking cause among my many returning animes is Osomatsu-san, a pretty niche anime in the West but beloved by Japan so much that is made a come back 80 years later and is now on it's 4th season!😲

Originally called Osomatsu-kun back in the 60's, Osomatsu-san is about six identical sibling brothers and their daily lives of being NEETS and a burden on the world they live in. It's a slice of life that can be really funny if you get the jokes. It has an amazing cast including my number one seiyū Sakurai Takahiro- san! As per usual he is the one that got me into watching this anime! He voices the oldest Matsu brother and is the namesake of the series as a whole!

Although they do wear matching outfits at times as a nod to the original anime they are color coded and have unique personalities to tell them apart. Here listed are the names, colors, personalities and who voices them.

Sakurai Takahiro-san does the voice of the biggest NEET out of all of the brothers. He's also addicted to Pachiko.

Also the voice of Gojo sensei, Nakamura Yūichi-san gives this brother a cool nature...or tries to.

Kamiya Hiroshi-san is the voice of kind of the most boring brother for me. I don't know he just does not stand out as much as the others in personality.

Fukuyama Jun-san bring this eternally depressed brother to life and he is low key probably my second fav brother.

Knowing Ono Daisuke-san, there was no yellow highlight color, from a character like Sebastian Michelas it threw me for such a loop to hear him, and see his live, voice such a dopey airheaded character. Like it really showed his range to me!

The youngest and most adorable brother and my third fav he actually has a job and tries to be the opposite of his oldest brother. He is voiced by Irino Miyu-san.

There are a ton of live events too from the series and even not translated you can see how much fun everyone is having and really getting into their character. This is why I say when you change a seiyū for a character you are not just changing their voice but you are changing the whole character so it is not the same anymore.😖

They often go on stage with their counterparts from the anime and have contests and silly games they play which I end up laughing so hard at cause these are grown ass men near my age and they act like this for a living! Ugh, so jealous!

Anyway so that's my post on one of my fav anime series as well as the seiyū's who voice it. I don't know who is gonna get to the end of this but I hope if not the anime itself you will have more appreciation for the people that give the characters life. That's the true goal of an seiyū otaku.

[cheegu3]

Heloo may I request a enhypen reaction when y/n killed themselves and left a note saying "this is all your fault"

Sorry if this makes you uncomfy

oh not at all, I was only on the fence about writing this bc idk if talking about this topic is allowed on tumblr, but I hope u didn’t feel a lot of anxiety when sending in this ask 😭 it is a little short so sorry abt that :c some of the notes are a bit different too to switch it up!

tw / trigger warning: yandere, dark themes, depression, suicide, self-harm, sad asf, cursing, violence, blood, suicide-note, vomiting, gun

pls do not read if this triggers or offends you or if you're struggling !!

Yandere!Enhypen - reaction to you unaliving yourself

Jungwon

He didn't know how to react when he found you dead. No tears fell down his face as he looked for a pulse, clutching your cold hand in his.

When he spotted a note lying a few meters away, a heavy sigh left his lips and he gave you a pained look.

' This is all because of you. If only you'd treated me like a normal boyfriend would, maybe we could've been soulmates. I hope you feel pain for the rest of your life. '

The more Jungwon stared at the note, blaming him for all of your pain and problems; the more he felt like he had to fight to hold back the tears that were itching to fall.

At the same time, he found a strange anger bubbling inside of him. Not only did you - the love of his life, leave him in this way but you had to wish him pain in your last breath too?

He became blinded by anger. The hand that was holding the note clenched and the paper crumbled under it.

He will try to stay alive just to spite you. Trying his best to move on and get happy, maybe fall in love again and find a family just so he could get his revenge; as you watched from above and realized you meant nothing to him.

But Jungwon never got over you, not really.

Heeseung

He got angry immediately, cussing you out and almost getting the urge to hit you. Instead, he took his anger out on a mirror and felt some sense of relief when he started to bleed.

He blamed himself of course. He had been wrong about how you were feeling, even though he often prided himself on having been able to read you like an open book.

He didn't notice your spark slowly dying out; the more he got angry the more he got jealous, and then the more you were punished for the smallest things.

It got to a point where you couldn't even live in the moment and enjoy the short times when he was a sweet boyfriend again, because you were always scared of what would tick him off a few seconds later.

' I'm sorry, Hee. I was so tired of fighting. I love you,

y/n. '

His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He could only manage to hold them back for a few seconds before he doubled over and sobbed loudly.

The room filled with loud wails of pain that would even make angels cry. Anyone that heard it would know just how much he loved you.

Heeseung clutched his chest right where his aching heart felt like it was being ripped out of him. '' I'm sorry, I'm so sorry baby, '' he kept whispering until he was tired of crying for hours and it turned into shaky murmurs.

He fell asleep, hoping it would be eternal, with your body in his arms; dried tears on his cheeks being replaced by new ones, as even in his sleep he couldn't escape seeing his lover.

Jay

It was the worst phone call he had ever received. He didn't know how to react after it ended, only staring blankly into the distance as his thoughts went crazy.

He needed to see you with his own eyes to believe it so he rushed home. His stomach sank when he spotted the ambulance. Quickly he pushed through the people to get to you.

But when he reached you and saw your lifeless body on the stretcher, he didn't know what to do yet again. A stupid voice inside him told him he should keep his cool in front of all the spectators, even while the love of his life lay dead in front of him.

Did he want to cry, scream, or hold you?

He lowered his eyes to get the image of you like that out of his head. Still in shock, he went inside, locked the doors, and shut the windows' blinds.

He stayed like that for days; barely eating, seeing the sun, or getting out of bed. No matter how bad his depression got and how the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to get further and further away, he still refused to cry.

There was a reason. Your note.

He had seen it while cleaning his house that day he got home. Not wanting to let his thoughts get to him, he started sterilizing and cleaning the whole house. When he then got to the bedroom, a small green note poked out underneath the bed.

He crouched and was about to throw it away until he turned it over and read the first and only line.

' this is all your fault '

And after that, he'd never be the same man again. Most days he wondered if he was even human anymore, he didn't feel anything.

Jake

'' Y/n! I'm home. ''

Jake's face scrunched up as he pouted when you didn't come running to him like usual. Something felt wrong, a bad feeling brewed in his stomach, growing in size the more he moved around in his apartment.

He went further in, peeking around the corners but not calling out for you anymore. It felt better to explain the bad feeling by thinking you were doing something you weren't supposed to, rather than you being hurt; so he moved quietly so he could catch you in the act.

Inside the office, you were nowhere to be found. He guessed you had snuck in there to write to your loved ones or maybe snoop through his stuff. Defeatedly he sighed and moved on, eyes getting caught by the door to the bedroom being slightly open.

Jake stopped in his step and turned back.

'' Y/n? Are you in there? Come out please, I just want to talk, '' he tried, his voice coming out a lot more whiny and desperate than he'd planned.

But he got no response except for silence. His worry grew. One deep breath later he pushed the door open before he could change his mind.

It slowly creaked open, revealing the room little by little. He fell to his knees and gasped.

You were lying in a pool of blood. At first, he felt a surge of anger - who could've done this to you? Then, his attention drifted to the small folded note next to you, and his heart sank.

'' No, please don't say...'' he trailed off, hurrying to unwrap the paper with so much panic that he almost ripped it.

' I wanted to meet my friend one last time, that's all I asked for, but like always it was about what you wanted. We both know that this was all your fault. '

Overcome with despair and grief it wouldn't take long for Jake to join you. He couldn't stand being apart, and he'd find you wherever you were, even in death.

Sunghoon

He felt very angry at you, not himself. Yes, he had dared you to do it while the two of you were in the middle of a screaming match but he hadn't expected you to actually pick up a gun.

The image of you staring at him, tears in your eyes, and that look on your face, which was the last he'd see of you, would forever be etched in his mind.

He couldn't sleep at night. It was like it was burned into the back of his eyes too.

Once your body fell to the floor with a thud, his eyes widened and his lips parted. He knew you were gone without even having to check your pulse.

'' Do it, '' those were his last words to the one person he loved.

He felt sick suddenly, rushing to the bathroom to throw up everything and then some more.

In that bathroom he stayed for hours, just staring blankly at the tiles on the wall, not saying a word or moving an inch. After the sun started setting outside and the light caught his eyes, he finally got up and went to where he had last left you.

You hadn't moved. Sunghoon crouched down next to you and started digging in your pockets for your phone. Something sharp brushed against his palm.

He took it out and saw that it was a note. Unraveling it, he discovered it was a suicide note you must've written a long time ago. Had you always had it on you? Just in case.

' I hate you '

He clenched his fist around the paper, it broke. '' Weak, '' he whispered under his breath and got up.

It was a coping mechanism to place all the anger on you. God knows what he would've done if he started letting that transfer to himself. But, even the anger couldn't stop him from missing you - every single day.

Sunoo

He would blame himself immensely, not having room to be mad at you at all. All that he felt for you was pity and empathy. He tried putting himself in your shoes for the first time and it was a heartbreak he'd never experienced before.

He went to school that day, so excited to see you, only to feel horror as he pushed through the crowd that had formed curiously and saw your body there.

It felt like slow-motion when the wind made you turn and you made eye contact with him. Whispers spread like wildfire all around him, surrounding him completely.

Sunoo felt confused and scared, his eyes darted around anxiously and he tried slipping out. Someone pushed him back.

'' You did this! ''

His head snapped up. A girl, your friend, was standing on the table overlooking the whole classroom. Her eyes were red from crying and in her hand, she was holding something white.

' I'm sorry to do this here, but it's because of my boyfriend, he's controlling and an obsessive, crazy person. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of him. I'm sorry, I love you '

His world fell apart in an instant. He had no idea you'd been feeling like that, why didn't you tell him? He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he came to a realization - you did, and he didn't listen.

He was finally allowed to push through the crowd and run away from the school which he'd never again return to. Tears streamed down his face the whole way home, and they didn't stop even as he reached it.

In his mind, all the ' what if-s ' played. What if he fixed himself and was less obsessive, would you have stayed then? What if he was less jealous, would you have loved him back? What if...what if.

Ni-ki

He tried distracting his mind by both rationalizing it to soften the blow, saying '' we probably weren't made for each other anyway '', and trying to go on dates with other girls.

However, every time he did so, he'd zone out and wish that it was you sitting across from him instead. He started daydreaming which brought a smile to his face until it dropped almost as suddenly as it had come when he heard her voice and realized it wasn't you.

They could never be you.

Suddenly he was angry at them, cursing and telling them to leave him alone and to never text him again.

Deep down he knew he'd never love anyone like you again, and you were actually meant for him; but he hated admitting it and to spare himself from more pain, might never admit it.

That was the thing, you were meant for him. Not anymore; you didn't exist anymore, because of him. He knew that now that his soulmate was gone forever, his bleak days would never be lit up by you again.

Just thinking of that smile, the only one that managed to get through his tough and cold exterior, made him feel like crying or punching something.

He then thought of the note, which he often did, and your body at the morgue because he hadn't come home quick enough to see you, and for that he was grateful; seeing you like that would've driven him to the edge.

The note, the one that read, ' I'm sorry, Riki. I tried, I really did. I love you, -y/n '

[ninapi]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺╚══ Righteousness ╝

Premise: Teaching children was his dream, taking care of his buddhist temple his responsibility. Finding love wasn't in his priority list, but not having to take care of everything on his own was certainly refreshing for Gyomei and made him feel warm inside.

Word Count: 3075

Note: This is set in the Kimetsu academy world, just so you know~

🎉Happy new year everyone!! 🎉

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The first years in the Kimetsu academy had the best homeroom teacher, everybody knew this and they were incredibly jealous of them in the senior classes.

Himejima Gyomei, despite of being this big and imposing, had a heart of gold.

He loved every single one of his students as if they were his own children, getting to know what they liked and what they didn’t, always willing to help them with their concerns and they would always end up opening up to him no matter how uncomfortable the subject was.

For example, Kanao got her first period in one of his classes and he, even if he had no idea of how to deal with such a problem, went to get her some warm tea and shared his cat shaped cookies with her while her sister finished class and was able to assist her further. 

He was such a tender, heartwarming man, that everyone wondered why he was still single, his students specially.

“Himejima-sensei, when are you giving us a baby brother? I really wanna see what it would look like, don’t you Tanjiro? If it’s a boy I bet he’d look just like his dad, wouldn’t that be something?” Zenitsu used to be scared of him, so having him accepting him this much always made Gyomei’s heart sing.

“I can’t make babies without a wife…Do you want me to ask Kochou-sensei to add some sex-ed to your biology classes? It worries me a little your lack of knowledge in the matter…” his comment made the entire class burst out laughing, Zenitsu’s ears turning bright red.

“I know that! I just..I just…”

“What he’s trying to say is that he would like you to have a happy home with a wife and children, sensei. You do deserve that and we all agree.” 

“Tanjirooooooo….!” tears staining his cheeks, he was always so grateful to have a friend that truly understood his every word to perfection to save him from eternal humiliation.

“I appreciate your concern, dear students of mine. But I can’t even own a cat, I have too much work with the school and the temple, I can barely sleep. That reminds me, remember we are having a festival this weekend in the temple grounds. Make sure to come if you have the time, there will be many delicious treats in booths this time around.” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gyomei inherited a Buddhist temple a few years back when the owner, who had no children, had past. In his will, he stated that Gyomei was the only one he could think of as his successor even if they weren’t blood related, and as an orphan, he couldn’t feel more proud.

Taking the temple was fine at first, it was a middle sized temple hidden away in the middle of the city, not many people would come by and taking care of it mostly just meant some extra chores. The temple also came with housing, hence it was just a bit more of cleaning to do than usual.

But in resent months, his temple gained fame as there were rumors that you’d become stronger if you bought their amulets and prayed there, the owner being the proof of that.

Suddenly a bunch of teenagers started visiting frequently, mostly misguided ones, making it their meeting place.

To Gyomei was actually refreshing, he would share tips with them on how to grow muscle and some of them even started considering leaving the type of life they lived and become priests. That much was the influence he had on them, and it was a good one.

The ex-biker gang of teens were quite useful to have around, instead of doing mischief around town, they started coming to the temple daily and helping with the chores. The ‘training’ they received from Gyomei leaving clear results on their muscle gain and they were all livid.

This time around they were tasked to help him build the booths for the festival.

Among those, there was one boy who wasn’t part of that gang that you could still see always there in the temple as well, one of his beloved students, Shinazugawa Genya, who had the title of being his ‘disciple’ according to him and the other kids at least.

While he didn’t get any special treatment, he did focus on the arts of the religion itself with him more than with the others, as he doubted he would ever get an heir and wanted to entrust the knowledge he received from the previous priest to future generations.

The summer festival was somewhat of an unexpected request from the town’s municipality. Of course he knows temples frequently have festivals, specially during summer months, he’s been to quite a few himself. But he never thought he’d have to plan one…

The festivals are a sort of income for the towns people and also provide enrichment to the youth and the elderly, he couldn’t refuse the proposal. But he had no idea of what was needed besides the building side of things, so he decided to focus on that and take the opportunity to share some skills with the boys that might help them in the future.

One of the boys however, one of the most reckless of all, had a sister about his age, maybe a bit younger, who was the one raising him. He was aware of this, when the kid’s parents died he chose the wrong path, ended up meeting the wrong kind of kids and it was giving troubles to his sister who worked very hard to provide for both.

He decided to call for you, with the excuse of needing a female touch for the festival. The boy was over the moon knowing he could be more helpful than the others by just having an older sister, who happened to be very pretty as well.

“She’s here, Himejima-san! My sister!” you made your way up the long stairs lining the side of the street until you found your little bother clinging to this massive mountain of a man. He looked happy, like when he was little and would show you a rock he found in his way home, he used to be so pure hearted…maybe not everything is lost just yet.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I’m glad to finally meet you, you’ve been a great influence in my brother’s life, I’m immensely grateful.” the way your loving smile graced your features as you glanced at your younger brother, the way your voice was laced with so much appreciation and the way the slight breeze moved your hair around like a shoujo manga panel, made his eyes fill with tears; rivers of them going down his face almost instantly.

“Himejima-san? Oh my god, are you ok? Did I offend you in any way?” You were panicking, never thinking you’d see the day a man as massive and masculine as he was could sob out in the open like a baby.

“Don’t worry, nee-chan. He cries over everything…” the kids chuckled at his words, making the older man blush.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You were just so pretty looking at your brother with such a tender loving gaze, it was a beautiful scene, even for someone who can’t see.”

“See? I told you guys…he’d cry at my sisters face! HA! I’m going to be Himejima-san’s son in law!”

“You mean brother in law, you idiot…” words came out of your mouth without thinking, making you flush bright red. “I- I didn’t mean it that way…it’s just..he doesn’t go to school so I have to correct him when he says something out of…” your mumbling made the man smile, you were a lovely woman, his heart aches knowing you’ve been raising this child on your own after your loss, dealing with a little delinquent most be even harder.

“It’s ok, I do the same all the time. I am a school teacher after all. It’s a good practice.”

“This is what you miss for not going to school! Himejima-san could be your teacher!”

“He wouldn’t, he’s a first year teacher, I’m a third year…” poking his tongue out at you, he went back to building the takoyaki booth with his friends.

“I’ve tried that, but they really don’t like school…”

“It’s hard for them, they’re actually good kids, they just don’t fit with society’s rules and that causes them to go a little wild. He’s been asking for materials lately and to be very honest, I don’t mind him using my money for paint and some wood instead of having him stealing it to buy cigarets…you’re a great influence in them.”

Your words were hitting the spot right now. He wasn’t doing this to get anyone’s recognition, he just always felt the need to pass his knowledge down, to help others succeed in life. But it felt good having someone acknowledging this for the first time, it made him feel like he was indeed doing some good out there, that inheriting this temple was actually work of the gods and that this was indeed his call. 

“Thank you, your words are very kind.” he didn’t really talk much, but he was crying once more and this time around you found it more adorable than anything, specially his little handkerchief with an embroidered kitten on it.

“What can I help you with, Himejima-san?”

“Well, I need a priestess to help me make and sell the amulets. Is that something you’d be interested in?” 

“Oh, so that’s why you needed a woman, I see. Sure! What do I need to do?”

You spent all the afternoon learning the craft of making the pretty embroidered amulets. You never imagined a man like him would have such a hobby, in particular a blind man, but he was very good at it even. “So that handkerchief of yours…did you embroider it yourself?”

“Oh this?” he showed it to you, it was surreal, there was so much detailing it must have taking him ages to make. “Yeah I made it during lunch breaks, the other teachers are a bit loud so I just sit there on my chair keeping myself busy.” 

“You’re really something else…” your giggles were something he began to appreciate from the moment you stepped on his temple grounds, but he grew fonder of them even more as you spent more and more time together.

The coming days you’d come and visit the temple with your brother after work; they’d already built most of the stalls and you were diligently working on the amulets with Gyomei. It was a nice dynamic, he’s never been this busy, yet it felt so invigorating having all this loving creatures around him all day long. Specially the one sitting next to him, dozing off on his shoulder with a needle dangerously close to her mouth.

“(Y/N)…” he tried shaking your shoulder gently but you were completely gone for the day. It was a hell of a day at work and your brother asked you to make his bento box as early as four in the morning since he’d be out all day building things. You were exhausted to say the least.

Since you weren’t waking up, Gyomei scooped you up in his arms and took you inside to his apartment, laying you gently on his bed. He then called the boys and told them to go home as it was already quite late, your brother going with them instead of staying with you, unsurprisingly.

While you continued sleeping peacefully on the man’s bed, he went to his kitchen to prepare dinner. Would you wake up in time for dinner? What would you even like to eat? Was this a date? He technically took you in his house without consent…would he be in troubles for this? He really doesn’t want you to hate him…

He went for the safest choice, some gyoza and side dishes, noting too heavy and easy to eat. He also had beers if you wanted one, but also juice, coffee even, he was a ready man.

“(Y/N)…I made some gyoza…come eat with me, you need to replenish your energy.” this time though you did hear him, more like the delicious smell coming from the kitchen got you to wake up.

“Himejima-san…?” you looked around in confusion as you were in an unknown location, him being the only familiar thing at the moment.

“You fell asleep outside, I brought you in so you wouldn’t catch a cold. The boys are home now, but I made you some dinner…” you could see he was nervous, it was cute how he was fidgeting with the pink apron he was wearing, the tips of his ears a little red, noticeable even on his darker skin. He was a sight to behold regardless if he was showing muscle or being tender like right now.

“Thank you, you’re always so kind to me.” getting up from his bed, you followed him to the kitchen area were he had a small table with two chairs ready for you to enjoy the goodness he just prepared while thinking in nothing but yourself.

“You don’t have to come help every day if you’re this tired. You could get sick, besides I bet you have better things to do…”

“I like helping you, Himejima-san…” he chocked on his gyoza, making you hand him his glass of water.

“Y-you do…?” he mumbled in between coughs as he was desperate for you to elaborate.

“I do. I like our amulet making time, and helping you clean and be with the kids in general. I’ve been spending a lot more time with my brother lately because of that too, getting to know his friends and of course…you…” nodding you kept on eating the delicious treats, while he processed your words.

“I like it too you know…all that…” he wasn’t the best at this, he wasn’t even sure if this was that sort of talk or not but he had to let you know he felt the same in case it was.

“Y-you…you’re very kind and easy to work with. I wish you were my priestess always, not just for the festival…” the implications of those words hit you harder than it should, he wanted you there always, that’s the only thing you got out of that, and your face was suddenly very red and warm.

“Are you in need of one? I mean…what would I have to do?” this got him out of his nervous trance, were you really interested in this?

“Well, the same but less frequent, as this is the first festival we hold, its normally not this busy, just help me make amulets and sell them on your time off, maybe help me swipe the leaves during fall, things like that…”

“Will I get a pretty outfit matching yours?” your giggles made themselves shown this evening, making him shake to his core.

“I can get that sorted out…” you’ve never seen him smile like that before, he was always so stoic looking, even in his soft moments. 

“Then I guess we have a deal, boss~” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The festival weekend was finally here, the stalls filled to brim with delicious goodness and fun games.

His students came to the festival, Genya being as pushy as ever to get everyone spending their allowance in the festival. While Tanjiro was having a blast wining plushies for Kanao, Zenitsu was looking for his teacher.

“Himejima-sensei….can you rub my back? I think I pulled a muscle…” he plopped on a chair inside the little office the temple has, to his surprise, he wasn’t there but a lovely woman dressed in the most beautiful yukata he’s ever seen.

“Ugh…who are you??”

“I’m in charge of selling the amulets, would you like one? They’ll make you strong. Might help with your muscles~” you could sell him an empty plastic bag and he’d throw his money on your face immediately.

“Yes please, I’ll get all I can afford with this!” he handed you a bunch of coins, making you smile, “Is there a possibility you can write your number on the back of it? I mean…in case I want to buy more in the future…you know…” he was blushing and you just couldn’t hold your giggles in, an immediate call for Gyomei to come out.

“Agatsuma, you can come if you need another amulet any time, they will be for sale here in the temple, you're always welcomed.” the way you looked up at him all bashful and prettily made Zenitsu shudder with realization.

“WAIT! Sensei!! You didn’t tell me you had a lovely wife! Why would you keep her hidden? I almost try to get her for myself!” 

“Like you could, man…” Genya was snickering on the side, shaking his head.

“S-she’s not m-my…” 

“Here’s your amulet, Agatsuma-kun. If you ever need another just come, we’ll be here to sell you as many as you need~” you rested your hand on Gyomei’s forearm and his entire set of organs turned to goo, Zenitsu turning red at the implications of your words.

“Got it…Genya you should have told me sensei was dating, I almost did something stupid!”

“You always do something stupid…”

“W-we are n-not…d-“ he wasn’t able to finish his sentence as you pulled him down on the chair near the window, leaning down to hand him a cold drink. “Can you cover me for a second? I need to pee.”

“Anytime…” 

And so, Himejima Gyomei was not that alone anymore. 

Not only did he have his loving students, a home, two jobs and an entire biker gang of teens at his disposition, but he also had a loving woman by his side now, one who accepted him the way he was and was wiling to assist him without even questioning anything. Someone who makes his heart flutter and his insides melt. 

Maybe this year will be better than the last…maybe this year he’ll get the things he only ever dreamed of having. Maybe this year, he’ll get to fall in love.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

Masterlist <- (Sanemi, Giyuu, Kyojiro and Tengen's version)

Note: This concludes the teacher version of my Kimetsu Academy series~ There might be a students version of this series a little later on, in case you're interested...👀

[judasiscariotsfemalehysteria]

I watched Judas (2004) and welp

So erm this was supposed to just be a couple sentences but ended up becoming a full-blown rant, please bare with me

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD AND BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE ⚠️

So basically it all started when Judas saw Jesus going bonkers in the temple and got really horny-

Then he decided to invite Him back to his place for some grapes (malewife mode activated)

Afterwards Caiaphas and co. abduct Judas (this happens a total of three times) and attempt to blackmail him

Caiaphas calls Judas ‘son’

Judas ignores Caiaphas and runs away with Jesus. They start play-fighting and end up wrestling on the ground

Jesus says “I want you to spend eternity with me“

Unfortunately the harmony is short-lived. Judas sees Jesus hugging Matthew and gets jealous

Pilate, Herod and Caiaphas regularly get together for tea and crumpets

Here Judas is basically the stand-in for Simon Zealots. We learned that his father died in an attempt to stir up a Jewish insurrection. Flower!child Jesus asks Judas why he’s staying despite their contradicting beliefs and he replies: “I’m drawn to you like a thirsty horse to a riverbed” 😳

Babygirl 🌸

Supportive mama Iscariot tells her son he should invite his new boyfriend over for Passover, then promptly dies

OMG THE KISS

Judas really just smushed their faces together 🥴

The cinematic choices here are really cool, Jesus is almost always surrounded by light Star Wars hologram lookin ass whereas Judas is consumed by shadow the edgelord

After turning Jesus in Judas instantly regrets it, and tries to get the apostles together to rescue Him. It doesn’t work (obviously) so he screams and cries his way through the trial before going to hang himself

His last thought is of Jesus asking him to join the Eternal Kingdom 🥺

JESUS AND JUDAS’ DEATHS PARALLEL EACHOTHER

The disciples take Judas down because they know it’s what Jesus would have wanted, praying for him as the screen fades to black

The end 🥲

Conclusion

Judas has the vibes of an early 2000s made-for-tv movie (which it is) so I got what I came for. Definitely a fun ride if you like JCS and want to see attractive people acting out a biblically-inaccurate rendition of The Passion in the style of Gladiator (2000) or Troy (2004). The language used is modern, everyone speaks in American or English accents. Pilate even uses the term ‘rabble-rousing’ Overall I give Judas 18 silver pieces out of 30, for being corny and anachronistic but homoerotic enough to satiate all the freaks out there like me

To think this all could have been prevented if Judas just took his iron pills

Bonus quotes:

“Don’t leave me, I thought I was special to you!”

-Judas

“I wish you could love yourself the way I love you.”

-Jesus

P.S. I’ve seen Jonathan Scarfe referred to as ‘the whinier Glenndas’ so please proceed with caution if you do plan on giving it a watch! Here’s the link: