#something something fear of getting close to someone

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?” 

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

[revelboo]

Revel my eternal saviour, I plead more tarn and my life is yours. Seriously that cliffhanger!!!!! Aaack!

Sure!

L.G. Fuad Pt 9

Tarn x Reader

• Head lowering, he leans into your space. That anger still sizzling through him and you cringe, chirping fearfully as your head turns away, eyes closing. And you’re repeating something in your language, voice breaking. Freezing when he recognizes you’re trying to say his name amid whatever else you’re saying. Venting against you, he should take some satisfaction in your obvious fear. In scaring you into never trying that again, instead it leaves him unsettled. And still uncomfortably aware of his own frame’s response to you.

• “I’m sorry, Tarn, I’m sorry,” babbling apologies because he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Snarling at you and you shudder when he presses his masked face against your throat and you can feel him venting against you, one of his hands pinning both of yours above your head. And you gasp when he catches your chin and forces your head to turn his way as his own head lifts. Growling something at you that sounds furious. “I’m sorry.” That little glimpse of his face hadn’t been worth his anger or your life. Because he’s that angry. “Tarn, please.”

• “Anyone else who tried that would be dead right now,” he whispers, tapping a servo against your soft cheek until you open your eyes. And his anger fizzles somewhat, those frightened eyes leaking. “Anyone else,” he repeats, voice strained. Still aroused and angry and frustrated with you, everything mixing together into a bitter confusion. And you’re still brokenly chirping his name, breath hitching and leaking even more. “Stop that,” he growls, unconsciously modulating his voice. Using his outlier ability on you.

• It’s like someone cut your strings, body just going limp. Aware of yourself, of the weight of your body in a way you’ve never been before. Unable to breathe. Lungs just refusing to draw in a breath. Unable to twitch a finger or blink. Just staring up at those red optics as panic claws at you. Him. It’s him. Hear him growl as your lungs burn and know without knowing how that he’d done this to you somehow. Trapped you in your own body while it slowly dies because you’d made him angry.

• Freezing when you just stop, eyes staring at nothing. Little chest no longer rising and he realizes what he’s done. Hadn’t meant to no matter how angry he was. Didn’t want this. “Breathe,” he growls. “Live for me.” Pouring his ability into the words, willing you to obey and you take a shuddering, terrified breath. And immediately go wild, trashing and bucking in his grip. Screaming at him as he hooks an arm around you and sits back to drag you into his lap. Pinning you as you fight to escape him, sobbing. He’d lost control. Used his ability without meaning to. That shouldn’t be possible. You shouldn’t be able to affect him like you do. To not only want you that way, but to let you get under his plating. Cupping your head against his chassis, his servos are shaking as it sinks in just how dangerous you are. You’re a threat.

Previous

[am-i-interrupting]

Jealousy arcane hcs?

Ekko:

He’s not one who gets jealous often. In fact, it’s rare that he does.

It’s normally outside the comfort of the Firelights that this will happen. When you have to go into the heart of the Lanes for supplies.

With the Firelights, the care and attention they may place on you, he knows comes from genuine places of affection. That he can handle.

What he won’t handle is people degrading you to something as simple as your looks.

(Although he adores them)

That is something so easily found in the depths of the Undercity.

Some older sleaze coming up to you with words of ill and meaningless content will have him quickly coming up to you.

At first he will try subtlety. A hand on your shoulder, a call for you with a pet name.

If that fails to work, he has no problem going with verbal and sometimes physical threats.

With his shorter stature, there have been times where he’d have to pull someone down to get in their view.

There have been some occasions where this and a verbal threat didn’t work, in which case he had no problems rearing his fist back and breaking a nose.

Jinx:

She can be very flip floppy on how she handles jealousy.

It all depends on what kind of day she’s having.

Some days she has no problem striding up to you and whatever idiot is trying to beg for your attention.

A kiss on your cheek, a sweet or suggestive pet name, a show of her gun, and an utter of Silco’s name normally has people running.

Those are her better days.

On the days when the self consciousness comes knocking and her mental state is a bit more fragile, a different approach is taken.

She’ll just watch.

Mylo’s voice is normally the most prominent one which whispers how you don’t need her, don’t want her, would be better off with the bozo who’s flirting with you.

Those little bad habits may creep up to the service. Biting the dead skin off her lip, picking at the dry skin of her fingers.

She’ll always perk up slightly when she hears you tell someone that you have “a girlfriend who gives me everything I want and more so, um, no thanks.”

Silco:

He always has faith that you will come back to him.

At least, that’s the facade he puts on.

Deep down, there is a fear which runs deep that you’ll abandon him and leave him for something different.

His jealousy is subtle.

It’s in the way he’ll call your name and ask you a favor, hoping you’ll comply because you want to help him.

A nice way of showing how much you prioritize him over someone else

It’s in the way his fingertips will skirt on the surface of your shoulders as he walks by.

It’s in the way he will casually put his hand in your pocket in search for a lighter he knows you keep.

Viktor:

He tries his best to keep his emotions in check. At least, when there’s important people around

As much as he loathes public appearances, he knows they’re occasionally necessary.

He knows the importance of keeping up a nice, humble character people will want to work with.

However, outside of that he has no problems entering little verbal contests, of which he always comes out on top with his quick wit.

His little half smile when he wins is always something you love to see.

His hand will rest on your hip. He’ll pull you in close. He may even lean on you and use his cane to physically block you from the person.

[heliosunny]

Hello! I was curious what your take on the Amphoreus men’s reactions would be to a sick or even injured reader? I had bad nausea and a migraine today, bedridden and all, (but I’m better now!) and I fear if I was their darling they’d think I’m pregnant or something dumb like that 😂

Wishing you a lovely day! Thank you for sharing your writings ❤️

I'm sick atm so Imma answer this. Glad to hear u got better.

When you're sick

🌿 Anaxa

At first, he's simply observing. He doesn't react strongly, but his mind is already working to figure out what’s wrong.

(Watching you struggle to sit up, his eyes gleaming with amusement at first.)

Anaxa: “How fascinating. Your skin is warmer than usual, your pupils slightly dilated… Could it be a poison? Did someone poison you? Or perhaps a parasite? I do wonder.”

Anaxa is unsettlingly calm as he begins testing different treatments on you (you poor thing). You say it’s just a cold? He doesn’t believe you.

(You groan, insisting it’s just a cold. He hums, unconvinced, swirling a dark liquid in a glass.)

Anaxa: “Drink this. It may cure you, or at the very least, give me something new to analyze.”

(He scares you, but he only wants the best for you. Such hypocrite.)

Pregnancy thought? Unlikely. He’s too logical for that, he's looking for tangible symptoms. However, if he does think it, it’s because he wants to study the changes in your body up close.

(You woke up just to see his hand already inspecting your stomach.)

Anaxa: “We managed to put a baby in here huh. Don't you move, I'll take very good care of you.”

(You pushed him away soon after and refused to drink or eat anything from him.)

🐶 Phainon

His smile starts to fade when he heard the news. You have a minor fever?

(He barges into the room)

Phainon: “You're going to die? Don't leave me! I can't bear the thought of living all alone...”

(Lays you in bed dramatically like you’re on your deathbed.)

If you say it’s just a cold, he’ll be offended and insist that you need “proper royal treatment.”

(He tucked you in so tight you can't even move.)

Phainon: “I always know that you're not as strong as me, but I didn't expect you to be sick. I will feed you, every day, don't worry.”

Pregnancy thought? that’s not possible… unless…

(You tell him to calm down, but he ignores you, crouching beside your bed with a look of pure anguish.)

Phainon: “What if it’s something deadly? What if *gasp you’re with child?!? Whose? Mine?”

(You choke on your own saliva at his ridiculous assumption.)

Phainon: “Stay right here, I’ll summon someone immediately!”

(He rushes out before you can protest. You are doomed.)

🦁Mydei

At first, he just watches you suspiciously. When he realizes it’s real, he softens… a little.

He doesn’t fuss, but he becomes overbearing in a quiet way. He forces you to rest, doesn’t let you lift a single finger.

(Arms crossed, standing near the door, eyes narrowed as he watches you weakly sip your drink.)

Mydei: “If you’re too weak to hold a cup properly, you shouldn’t be holding it at all.”

(You glare at him, muttering that you can take care of yourself.)

Mydei: “Clearly.” (Sarcastic. He takes the cup from your hands and forces you to lie down.) “Rest.”

If you get worse, he just picks you up and hauls you off to a doctor, no questions asked.

He’ll be stubbornly glued to your side until you’re better.

Pregnancy thought? The possibility crosses his mind, but he immediately throws it out because he would’ve known if anything like that was possible.

When you're injured

🌿 Anaxa

He is completely unfazed. Even if you’re bleeding out, he will only act calm and professional while getting out his medical tools.

(Kneeling beside you, observing the wound with a calm, almost clinical expression.)

Anaxa: “Hm. A deep cut. The bleeding is slowing, but the damage is substantial.”

You swear he’s a doctor with how efficiently he patches you up—but he makes little effort to comfort you. Rather, he finds it interesting to mess with you.

(You wince as he prods at the wound. He doesn’t even warn you.)

Anaxa: “I expected better. Letting yourself get hurt like this… Have you always been so careless?”

(You glare at him.)

Anaxa: “Oh, don’t look at me like that. This is your own fault, after all. Still, if I find out someone else dares hurt you... nevermind.”

🐶Phainon

Trying to hold back his anger, won't let it shows in front of you. You can only see his good side.

(His entire body is tense as he kneels beside you, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turn white.)

Phainon: “Who did this?”

(You try to downplay it, but his eyes still burning with fury.)

Once he’s calmed down, he scoops you up and takes you to the best healer available.

He’s genuinely shaken up by it and might get overly protective afterward. Even minor scrapes will have him wrapping you up in bandages like a mummy.

Phainon: “And once you’re healed, you are never leaving my sight again. I won’t allow it.”

🦁Mydei

He’s surprisingly calm when he sees you’re injured, but it’s the eerie kind of calm. He’s not saying much, but the rage is there.

He doesn’t panic, he assesses your wound like a warrior, checking the severity before deciding what to do.

(He crouches beside you, examining the wound with an eerily quiet intensity.)

Mydei: “You’re bleeding.”

(You bite back a sarcastic remark. He rips off a piece of his sleeve, pressing it against the wound with firm but careful hands.)

Mydei: “Does it hurt?”

(You hesitate. He looks at you, his sharp gaze unyielding.)

Mydei: “Good. Remember it.”

Two priorities:

Getting you treated.

Finding whoever did this and destroying them.

No more fights. No more risks. You are staying where he can see you.

(He finishes bandaging the wound, then stands, offering you his hand.)

Mydei: “Come. You’re not walking alone.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 138 (Ash In Captivity)

Ash Landgraab woke inside a small wooden shack. He was still wearing his winter clothes, but a warm sunshine was setting outside the small windows. His head hurt, but he thought he made out palm trees below clear blue sky. Did he smell the ocean?

He remembered being taken by a man in a hood and sunglasses, but the man stuck him with something sharp...and then he woke up here. Outside, he heard the voice of the man who grabbed him, his words muffled as he spoke to someone on the phone.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait? If we can't get back, who knows what we'll even make it back to? The longer we're here-"

The man grumbled, sticking the phone in his pocket as the door to the shack swung open. Ash kept his face forward to mask his fear, making note of the items in the room. An old fridge that smelled like rotting food, a few books, a camper's portable bed, and an old Grimophone.

Catching the boy's eyes glance toward the music player, the man sneered. Did he know what it could do? "It's broken. Don't even think about trying to play music. If you make so much as a sound-"

"You'll do what? Kidnap me?"

"Worse." The man sneered with a shake of his head. "You Landgraabs are all the same. Smart mouths, no sense. What moron convinced your family to let security take vacation during the Easter break? We'd never have gotten close to you, otherwise."

Ash frowned. "I...my Nan said it was a nice idea! How do you know Conrad, anyway? What other Landgraabs do you know?"

Ash's captor laughed. "So many questions! I don't have time for any of them. I need to go get someone; you stay here. If you try to leave, the whole place will blow. And if it doesn't, there will be two men with big guns guarding the door. Their orders are to shoot if you try to escape."

"You said on the phone you don't even know what we're waiting for. Who were you talking to?"

"It's rude to listen to people's phone calls."

"It's rude to talk about people behind their backs!"

The man clenched his fist with a glower. "If you weren't worth more alive then dead..."

He stopped himself, pulling out his phone again. The door slammed shut behind him, and he made a show of loudly turning a skeleton key to lock it behind him. "No bull, kid. Remember, men with guns will be here any second now."

(There is Landgraab in Ash, guys. It's not advisable to talk to your kidnapper like this at nine years old, but just because Ash doesn't talk to everyone this way doesn't mean he doesn't have that instinct when faced with someone rude! He's been raised - by the Landgraabs - believing he's special and his kidnapper all but confirms it.)

Ash slid under the covers in the small bed, waiting until he heard the man swim to an outrigger canoe in crystalline water, parked next to tall black rocks. He could definitely smell the ocean, but it didn't smell anything like the sea in Brindleton Bay.

When the man and his canoe disappeared behind the rocks under the rapidly setting sun, Ash moved quickly. He was familiar with Grimophones because they still had Bella Goth's from the time his parents' learned to make ambrosia. He knew Lavender loved dancing to music playing from the old machine, but he also knew it could be used to summon someone who didn't need unlocked doors to move around.

He'd never used it to call the Grim Reaper before, but he moved close, speaking quietly into the black and gold painted horn. "Excuse me, Mr. Grim Reaper, sir. I could really use your help if you're free right now."

He waited a few long, agonizing moments before the Grim Reaper appeared in the corner. "Ash Landgraab? I was just spending time with dear Bella! What are you doing in Sulani?"

"I...I'm not sure. Someone took me and I woke up here."

"Took you?" Grim peeled back in shock. "Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts and I'm hungry, but I'm okay I think...You're like a courier, right? Can you get a message to my parents to tell them where I am? The man said he had to go get someone and that more men were coming soon, and he said they'd have guns. I'm scared!"

Grim's hollow black face still emanated sympathy for the boy. "Will your parents have time to reach you? It's a long flight to Sulani..."

"My grandparents have a really fast jet," he offered nervously.

Grim nodded. "I'll do everything I can to get them here as fast as possible. When the men come, just try to stay calm."

Ash nodded in agreement as Grim disappeared in another puff of black smoke. His stomach grumbled, but he didn't want to eat whatever might be turning inside the fridge.

Grim reappeared moments later, but he hadn't landed in Brindleton Bay or San Myshuno. He stood before Felix, Lilith, Rafa, and Melissa outside the abandoned ship. Lilith grinned excitedly. "Oh wow! That's not just cosplay; you're the Grim Reaper!"

Felix cleared his throat. He'd avoided Grim for over a century, having taken somewhat personal their last unfortunate meeting on the day of Felix' death. "Hello, Grim. You're not here to reap someone's soul tonight, are you? We're quite enjoying our vacation."

"Speak for yourself," interjected Rafa. "You really won't give up no matter how many times I tell you I won't cooperate with you and Conrad."

"It really is in your best interests-"

Melissa stepped forward with a frown. "He said no. Can't you just leave him alone?"

"I can, most certainly. But Conrad's an officer of the law and I'm not so sure he can."

Grim shook his head, his deep, echoed voice reverberating over their own. "I'm not here to reap any souls no matter how much your bickering tempts me. I'm here for Conrad's stepson, Ash Landgraab."

"He's just a boy!" argued Felix. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not here for his soul; Ash asked for my help. He's been kidnapped, and they're keeping him on an island not far from here. His parents don't even know yet that he's missing. They'll find out soon."

Rafa shot a look at the hooded reaper before them. "You're really the Grim Reaper?"

Felix nodded, remembering his death as though it were yesterday. "Trust me, it's him."

"I don't trust you!" argued Rafa.

"Enough! Time is the only thing that matters and that boy is running out. The people who took him didn't fly him to Sulani on a commercial airline. When Ash called me through an old Grimophone in the shack where they're keeping him, I went back in time to find him."

Rafa's eyes bulged. "Seriously, what the hell is with you people?!"

"It's only a few hours difference. Just a little earlier today. But that just means it'll take his family a little longer to get here and he said there would be men with guns. You could help him before they even know he's gone."

"What men with guns?"

"I'd imagine they're connected to the same group of hitmen responsible for too many of my visits out here."

"So, you're saying a kid was taken by a time traveler and brought to hitmen in Sulani? Why would someone do that?"

"He told you why," Lilith said carefully. "The kid's a Landgraab."

Melissa's face fell. "Like the company? So they took Conrad's stepson for ransom money?"

The Grim Reaper shrugged. "I don't know anything else, other than to note he was headed to the tiki bar when I saw him on my way over here. He looked frustrated - maybe they were supposed to travel to a different time and place but something went wrong."

"What do you mean 'wrong'?"

He shrugged again. "I've been around a long time; I know plenty that can go wrong with time travel. If his kidnapper figures out what went wrong, they could be gone to who knows where, and who knows when, before his family has a chance to look for him."

Felix and Lilith stepped forward eagerly. "We're in," said Lilith. "I haven't met Ash's parents yet, but Felix owes them his life and I owe them for Felix."

Rafa grumbled, as good-hearted Melissa glanced at him cautiously. "You want to help them, don't you...Rafa, it's dangerous!"

"I have to, Mel. If I don't help Conrad's stepson and he knows I was asked, what would he owe me anymore?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Time travel?! Blame the new rewards event and the inherent weirdness of The Sims, but just like embracing my gameplay (mistakes and all!) and turning it into storyline, in keeping with the tradition of baking rewards events into the plot, we're going there and this is the gateway!

WCIF Shack Build? Lost Cave on the Sims 4 Gallery by ApollArtemisLuna. I thought it would be this cave-looking lot with big boulders, but when I placed it there were no boulders. If I read German I might have known this only looked like this in the screenshot because it was placed inside the Forgotten Grotto, presumably with TOOL. So I pivoted from Plan A and surveyed the lot I got. Definitely still fit the vibe of the location and -voila!- a Grimophone was included by the creator!

Ash definitely knows what a Grimophone is and what it can do since Heather and Conrad still have Bella's (it's theirs now, really), and the plot sprouted from the gallery build. I can't stress enough how much I love the Gallery and how it inspires my creativity in ways trying to build my own lots wouldn't do! Thank you builders!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Mystery: A Light in the Darkness

Seeking to keep their sickly son Luka safe from the dangers of the world, the baron and baroness D'Montria have kept the boy in the tallest tower of their castle for most of his life. Rumour had it that the boy's become a prolific reader as most every night people of the surrounding village could look up and see the tower windows alight with all the candles the boy used to read into the small hours of the night.

The locals knew that something was wrong when the tower remained dark for an entire week. The D'Montria boy has vanished, leaving nothing behind but a guttering lamp and an open window. Now the baronial couple is in a state of panic searching for answers, mobilizing their garrison and offering rewards for any who might have information on where their boy has gone.

Adventure Hooks:

The party's in with the D'Montria family comes in the form of a member of their houshold guard. He's an old acquaintance of one of the heroes, an old family friend, or perhaps a fellow comrade in arms. He was on watch the night Luka disappeared, and while he wasn't in any way involved he knows his captain is looking for someone to blame to show the D'Montrias that progress is being made. Fearful of losing his job, or worse being made into a scapegoat, he's written to the party for help.

It's a fortnight after the disappearance and shortly after the party begin their investigation that a ransom notice arrives, signed by Jacknife Jenny a famous brigand well known for her trickery and ruthlessness. She and her gang want money, and lots of it, before they had the boy over. Not all is as it appears however, as in the course of looking into Luka's disappearance the party will discover some of Jenny's crew skulking about and strongarming folks looking for information.

Krine the bookseller's daughter might have a clue to where Luka might be. She's an odd sort, prone to flights of facy, and the parry will find her trailing them as they investigate. If questioned, she'll claim that despite never visting the castle she and the D'Montria boy have been friends for month. She's an idea where he's gone, but has sworn not to tell, so the party will either need to be clever or very mean to get it out of her.

Background: Luka D'Montria was a fearful child, exactly what you'd expect of someone overly sheltered from a young age and told he was too weak to wether any of life's challenges. He was also deeply lonely, and despite all the things he knew could hurt him in the outside world wished nothing more than to go out and make friends.

The first of these friends was Krine, who's parent's shop was close enough to his parent's castle that they could catch sight of each other's night-lanterns. Casual start and stop "hellos!" and "Goodnights!" became a nightly occurrence, which evolved into full on coded conversations when Trine started slipping hidden notes into the books the noble boy's tutors kept buying for him (the scribbled remnants of which remain in both of their rooms, should the party look).

The second friend turned out to be Tergrid, god of fright, who'd had her eye on the fearful boy for a while and decided to approach him in a dream with an offer; She'd give him the strength to face the world if he had the courage to bear it. Luka accepted, and promptly fell ill for three days, leaving his parents and their physicians to dote on him day and night and leave him swaddled so tightly in bedding he could scarcely move. On the third night, once everyone was tired, he slipped out of his blankets, opened the window to drink in the cool night, and took flight on his new moth wings. He visited Krine for the first time that night, and only left once the dawn threatened to chase him back inside. Not wanting to return to his guilded cage just yet, he left to the nearby forest, looking for a landmark he'd only read about in books.

Challenges & Complications:

The blessings of a fear goddess are not to be taken lightly, nor are they as straightforward as giving a feeble youth the gift of flight. "Strength enough to face the world" amounts to Luka being cursed into a sort of were-moth, growing in might and becoming less human each night as the moon wanes towards new. Predatory and driven to hunt those who wander alone at night, Luka's full feral moth form is not just a threat, it's a sacred beast in service of the goddess who gave him wings. At the same time, the blessing/curse represents freedom to the young D'Montria, and he will be loathe to give it up at first.

Jacknife Jennny's gang found Luka when he blundered into the old fortress they used as a hideout. She'd served under his family as a mercenary before turning brigand, and recognized him from his resemblance to his parents. Initially she was intrigued by the boy's ability to fly, and put on a robinhood style dashing outlaw routine to try and gain the boy's confidence only to try and imprison him for ransom when he saw through her act a few days later. Intrigue turned to fascination when the moon slid to a crescent and the boy escaped one night, leaving several of her best fighters shredded and disembowled in the process. Jenny already wanted to fly, and maybe cheat her former employers out of a ransom, but the idea of being able to turn into a seemingly unkillable monster? Now THAT'S got her attention.

Artist

[villainousauthor]

"This might be a new low for you." Hero's voice is firm, unwavering. Villain looks up from their delicate work, crossing of wires and fuses. They were hoping to get this explosive planted quickly and efficiently, though Hero's presence may delay their goal.

"I didn't know you previously held such a high opinion of me. I'm flattered." Villain's speaks in a deadpan tone.

Hero crosses the room, standing before Villain, arms folded in irritation. "A government building? Really? I thought my opinion of you couldn't get lower, but you dropped the bar into hell." Villain looks up, meeting their stern glower. Their fingers drum across the wooden desk the explosives sit on, holding Hero's gaze.

"Is this supposed to have any effect on me? I'm used to your scorn." They stand up, rising to Hero's height. "Either try to stop me or get lost. If you try to fight me, though, know I won't go easy on you this time."

This was too important. They didn't have time to play their usual games with Hero, or worry about their disappointment.

"I can tell." Hero speaks, sitting down on the desk, as if uncaring about the literal ticking bomb inches away. "You have that look on your face. Like you're thinking hard about something." They sigh as if exhausted. "Trying to fight you when you get like this never goes well."

"So leave-"

"Nope." Hero crosses their legs, uncrosses them, and leans back, meeting Villain's stare again. They're forcing a show of relaxation, but Villain doesn’t miss the way their limbs shake, or the way fingers won't stay still. "I have a better idea." They continue.

"Do go on."

"You go ahead and finished setting up these explosives and high tail it out of here like a coward, and I'll stay here." Hero's tone is like that of someone discussing the weather, or the latest sports game.

Villain blinks, opens their mouth, and closes their mouth before finally finding their words.

"What? You do know what a bomb is, right? I know your skull is a bit thick, but you do realize what would happen in that case?"

Hero makes a show of a fake explosion with their hand, complete with an auditory Woosh.

"I'd be turned into paste. Probably. If your weapons skills are even that good." They try to keep their voice in that same casual tone, but yet again, Villain doesn't miss the slight tremble. They're frightened. None of this makes sense.

Villain pauses for a moment. "Are you suicidal? Is this a cry for help because I'm sure this Hero gig of yours pays well enough for some therapy-"

"Nothing like that." Hero interrupts with a shake of their head and a laugh devoid of humor. "I appreciate the concern, but no, that's not what's going on here."

Staying quiet for a moment, Villain waits for them to elaborate.

"I'm calling your bluff." They say simply. Like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It's easier than trying to fight you and getting my ass kicked."

Frowning, Villain speaks a bit firmer, still confused though. "You're what?"

"I am calling your bluff. You can go ahead and blow up this building, but I'll be right here when it detonates." Hero smirks, like they've figured villain out.

Standing up taller, they lean over the wooden table and grab one of Hero's shoulders harshly. Their face becomes something wild.

"Are you really so self-centered, so arrogant, that you somehow- somehow in that stupid mind of yours think-" They exhale harshly through their nose and let go. "You think that your stupid threat of self destruction is enough to make me change my mind? You think your life matters to me, at all?" Their voice gets harsher as they speak, volume raising slightly. Why would Hero even try this?

"Okay then. So prove how worthless my life is to you." Hero shrugs. "You go ahead and set the bomb off, and I'll stay here." Hero tries to hide their smug smile. Despite their fear, they know they've caught Villain off guard.

Pinching their own face so hard they worry their nails may cut skin, Villain breathes loudly.

"You realize I could turn this back around on you, right? I could call your bluff. You wish to risk your life like this?"

"Call my bluff then." They challenge. "Unless you defuse this bomb, I'm not leaving." Hero raises their chin defiantly, eyes dagger sharp.

Villain rounds the table, grabbing Hero roughly, jostling them with a grip hard enough to ache. Hero's face doesn't change. "You think I can't drag you out of here? That I couldn't possibly knock you out and take you with me?" And then give them lecture filled with ire boarding on something violent later.

"You can certainly try," They keep that rebellious smile on their face, "but I'd fight you tooth and nail the whole way, and is that how you want to spend your precious escape time?"

Sneering, Villain can't decide if they want to shove them away or grip them tighter. "I hate you. I hate you so much." They all but snarl at them. If the imminent threat of explosion didn't kill Hero, they're sure the look on their enemy's face would.

Still, Hero pushes. "No, you don't. If you did, you'd already be out the door. You'd be killing two birds with one stone." Hero's hand reaches for the beeping package of wires, hand trembling, but they grab it nonetheless. They shove it to Villain roughly.

"Prove you hate me. Or defuse the bomb." They keep on the act of confidence, but that underlying dread is still in their eyes, the deep seated fear of what will happen.

Idiotic as always, Villain decides. Like there was any chance Villain would do anything else but spare them. Their stupid, infuriating Hero.

"I can't stand you." They growl, ripping one wire from the fuse.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

The brothers take MC to a kink club

*NSFW obviously*

Lucifer

He was only going because MC had asked him to. He also feels he would keep you the most safe there so he didn't think twice. He stay close to your side when there and once he started getting into the flow of everything he ended up basically showing you off. Stating you could use almost all the toys set out with ease since he uses a lot of them on you. Or that you can take some pain because he likes to be rough. Just him feeding into his pride and indulging in you his two favorite activities.

Mammon

You asked him and he was reluctant at first. Since he parties with asmos often he has seen and been around those types of things often. He isn't grossed out or anything just finds some stuff extreme. He caved since you really only need to ask twice for him. He never let you out of his sight and had a pretty red hue that deepened the more as time progressed. He was often taking notes of things to do to you when walking around the club.

Levi

You basically tricked him by getting him to even enter such a place. He thought it was something anime related and once those doors shut and he saw someone being spanked he realized this was not for anime. He clung to you in fear instead of protectiveness alike his older brothers. He did however get a little excited when you whispered to him about the things you were planning on doing to him once you two were done.

Satan

He went because asmos couldn't attend with you. He was there more so for your safety he says but he was curious. He has read a lot about kinks and such but never saw it in person. He kinda was taking mental notes not being a good bodyguard because he would stand and admire something happening or an item. You often times had to find and drag him around with you. He did however stall a little longer on a pet play scenario. You attempted to drag him away when he suddenly stated "I think about you that way" and you suddenly stall and your face flushed a deep red.

Asmos

He takes you to these things for fun or for inspiration if you two were experimenting with stuff. He often times joins in just for a little as you watch or he sometimes gets you to join as well. He somehow makes it a fun time instead of only freaky. It's still highly sexual but still.

Beel

He went alike Satan as a bodyguard for you. He did protect you well from people who wanted you to join in a lot of different things. He if you agreed would stay and watch with a red face and hard on. He wouldn't do anything but admire you. After you two exited he suddenly asked if you'd be willing to do such things for him. Why would you ever deny?

Belphie

He went for shits and giggles at first. But once inside he didn't find it as funny. He watched as you interacted with things and took notes about you. When you asked him his opinion on something he purposely teased you by placing you in the sub position as he spoke. He ended up enjoying teasing the hell out of you throughout most of it.

[nick-writes-stuff]

Ransom

Hwang In-ho x spouse!reader (gn)

summary: As much as In-ho tried to keep you a secret, a plot to overthrow and loot the compound involved holding you as ransom. The plan is unsuccessful, but your life wouldn't be the same again.

!warnings: canon-typical violence, home invasion themes, reader is injured and manhandled, hurt/comfort, implied traumatic experiences

a/n: this is probably going to be the last solo in-ho fic for a bit. i don't want to get burnt out from writing him. expect some headcanons or fics about some other characters in the future!

In-ho liked to keep you away from his work. You didn't know all of the specifics. You knew what he was doing was gruesome and shady, but you preferred to stay out of it.

A year or two after he began working as the Front Man, he had reached out to you, hoping to get some piece of his life back. You two had been close friends in your childhood up through your first year of university. You knew him and his brother well. Jun-ho would always pick on him since he thought it was obvious the two of you were pining for each other, but nothing ever came from that.

Then you drifted apart. There was no animosity between you. You talked occasionally, but you were just doing separate things in your lives. You would be lying if you said you didn't think about him every once in a while, wistfully wondering how your life would have been different if you had ever gotten the courage to ask him.

That thought made you feel guilty every time. You heard about what he was doing in his life. You knew he got married, was expecting a child with his wife, got fired for alleged bribery, lost his wife and child, then distanced himself from everyone in his life. Nothing stopped the thought from popping up, but you had never thought about acting in it.

Until you bumped into him at a coffee shop on the outskirts of Seoul years later. You didn't think much of this encounter. He had seemed nonchalant and casual that you assumed he had already cleared things up with his family.

This wasn't a chance encounter like you thought it was. Quite the contrary, as In-ho had meticulously planned it for a month in advance. It included a bit of surveillance on his end, but that was nothing out of the ordinary for his line of work. He met you there, and it felt exhilarating to finally be able to leave the mask behind for once.

You finally kept in touch with him. Your relationship only grew from that point on. Before you moved in with him, he sat you down to talk about his work and living situation. He was straightforward for the most part, but he spared you any of the extremely gory details. And you didn't run. You wanted to be there for him. Even if you were morally opposed to his line of work, you really cared about him. And it's not like you were participating.

You had lived with him for a few years before he proposed to you. Unlike every other thing he does, he didn't have a plan for it. Everything was spontaneous, and it was something you really appreciated. Not thinking about it beforehand showed that he really felt strongly about you and didn't have to think it through to convince him.

You stayed in the apartment for most of the time. You found a way to make yourself busy. Sometimes In-ho would have some random tasks for you like baking bread or making dalgona. You didn't know how that was helpful, but you didn't mind.

He was happy to have someone to return home to at the end of the day. But with that came the worry of your safety. The compound was secure, but there was always the fear in the back of his mind. You've taken self-defense courses before. You weren't helpless, but the people who could be a threat are rather unsavory people. They acted rashly and without forethought. Their unpredictability was concerning.

In-ho wanted to teach you how to use a gun, but you refused. You didn't like guns. You witnessed something traumatic that you didn't like discussing, and In-ho knew that. You at least let him show you how to check if the safety was on or off. He did insist that you carry around a stun gun, something you reluctantly agreed to.

You both had hoped you wouldn't have to use it. But sometimes things never go how you planned.

You had been straightening up when you heard the alarm start blaring. You swallowed hard, trying to calm your breathing. Panic would do nothing but make you more vulnerable.

The shrill ring of the rotary phone receiving a call shocked you more than it reasonably should have. You felt your heart stop for a second as it reverberated through the room. You shook your head at your jumpiness and walked to answer the phone.

You picked up the receiver. “You scared the shit out of me.” You said with a slight chuckle.

In-ho wasn't in a joking mood. He couldn't be right now. “Listen, there's 5 players and 2 rogue guards storming the place right now.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh god.” You muttered, realizing the gravity of the situation. Your breathing quickened as a response.

“Stay calm, okay? You need to keep your mind sharp.” He said. He knew it was a tall order, but he was right and you knew it. His voice was level despite the pit forming in his stomach. “There's one near you. Lock the door and hide in the storage room. Get ready to catch him off guard and lock him in there, okay? I'll get to you as soon as I can.” He said quickly.

You took a deep breath. “I will. I love you.” You said.

“I love you too.” He said. His voice was softer than it was before. He tried to keep you a secret while at work. Sure, some people knew you were living with him, mostly just some of the managers, but he didn't like advertising the fact that you were someone he cared about in fear it would be used against him.

And it was being used against him. There had been a scheme brewing behind the scenes for a few years that they hadn't caught onto. A player who voted to leave and didn't come back to the games decided to make a group to infiltrate the compound and steal the money outright. If they had 45 billion Won to offer the winner, they had to have even more at their disposal. The two guards had been working there for a few years. One of them was one of the managers who knew about your presence on the island. The one who was right outside the door to the apartment.

Things started to piece together in In-ho mind as he watched the events unfold. He became suspicious of other soldiers now. He didn't think he could trust anyone to rescue you except himself. What if they were in on it? Maybe he was being paranoid, but he didn't want to risk your life. He started devising a plan to neutralize the situation, giving out orders when needed. Once everyone knew their task, he made his way toward the apartment.

-

You put down the receiver the correct way out of habit. You rushed over to the front door, trembling fingers struggling to lock the door. You flicked the lights off and entered the storage room. You flicked those lights off as well. Maneuvering the best you could in the dark, you stood beside one of the shelves with your back against the wall. You focused on the coldness you felt where you made contact with the wall. It was grounding you. Your hand gripped the stun gun in your pocket. You tried to calm your breathing, but it was still shaky.

You flinched the first time you heard a thud. It wasn't a gunshot, more of an impact. The second time, it happened you realized it was someone breaking down the door. And they seemed to have gotten in. You heard heavy footsteps pacing through the apartment.

You hoped they would think you weren't there. Maybe you took a trip outside or even to the mainland. Maybe they didn't even know you were here.

That wasn't the case. You knew it the second you heard him shout. “Come on out. I know you're here.”

You tensed up, realizing how bad of a situation you were in. You just hoped In-ho would be there soon.

You heard him opening the doors one by one, doing a sweep of the apartment. Eventually, he opened the door to the storage room. You took deep breaths trying to stay quiet. Once he walked past you, you made your exit. He noticed you before you got out. “Not so fast.” He called out.

You managed to get through the doorway and start to close the door on him. You tried shoving against him, but you were overpowered and knocked to the ground as he shoved the door open.

You gathered your bearings and started to stand up, but you noticed the weapon in his hand. A pistol. Standard issue for the managers to keep on their person.

You started breathing faster, panicking despite In-ho's words repeating in your head. Stay calm, okay? You need to keep your mind sharp. You took a deep breath as you stood up. You tried to run off, but he stopped you by shoving you into the wall.

“Sorry, but I can't let you get away.” He said mockingly while closing the distance between you. He wrapped a hand around your throat.

“What do you want?” You asked, managing to get the words out despite the circumstances.

He laughed, using his other hand to pull off his square mask and hood to reveal his sick grin. “You're going to be my golden ticket to the fortune it takes to run these games. Your husband has to have hundreds of billions of Won, and he's gonna fork it over if he doesn't want me to put a bullet in your head.” He said. He tapped the barrel of the gun against your temple. You flinched away from it, both out of fear and a reflex from the cold metal.

He was clearly deriving pleasure from watching you struggle, and it made you sick to your stomach. You couldn't breathe, both from the panic and his grip on your airway.

“You don't have to do this.” You muttered, voice hardly above a whisper.

“Oh, I know. It's nothing personal, sweetheart.” He said with a sickening sweet but mocking tone. He had a sadistic glint in his eyes.

Your vision started to blur as he spoke. You reached your trembling hand into your pocket, fumbling with the stun gun. When you got it oriented the correct way, you made your move. You held down the button and jammed it into his side.

He jerked backward, releasing the grip on your throat and the gun. You took a desperate breath as you ducked out of his hold, but he recovered from the volts quicker than you thought he would. He turned and shoved you to the ground.

“You motherfucker.” He growled. He kicked you, causing you to cry out in pain. “You're gonna regret that.” He spat.

-

In-ho was making haste to the apartment when he heard you cry out. He grimaced under the mask. He tried to calm down his own breathing, but that attempt was in vain the second he heard a gunshot.

“Fuck, no no no no no.” He muttered. He felt the panic rise within him. He didn't know what he would do if he lost you. He can't do this without you. He can't lose you. If he did, it would be all his fault. You didn't deserve this. You didn't belong in the world that he dragged you into.

Why did the universe hate him? Was he doomed to lose everyone he loved? His mother, his father, his wife and child, his brother, his mentor, and now you too. Maybe he was meant to be alone. The universe was trying to show him that, but he never learned, and now he's lost the last person who he cared about.

He quickly noticed that the door had been broken into. Whoever did this was sure of their actions.

Whoever did this was about to be killed as well. He pulled the gun from his own pocket. Part of him wanted to keep them alive and torture them, make them regret the pain they put you through. But he knew you wouldn't want that.

He braced himself for what he thought he would see when he entered the doorframe, but it wasn't what he expected.

You were sitting with your back against the wall. You held the manager's gun in your hands, still outstretched as if you were frozen in time. Your gaze looked far away. Your breathing was shallow.

The manager laid in a heap on the ground, blood beginning to pool around him from the wound.

You shot him dead.

Once In-ho assessed the situation, he was at your side almost instantly, and the black mask was discarded just as quickly. He grabbed your wrist gently, which snapped you out of your haze. You jerked away from his touch, head quickly turning to look at whoever startled you.

“Hey, hey, it's me, okay? It's just-” He started.

The second you realized it was him you wrapped your arms around him. The pistol clattered to the ground. You cried into his shoulder, letting out shuddering sobs.

He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. His thumb gently stroked your scalp while he repeated, “It's okay. You're safe,” in a soft whisper, hoping both of you realized it was true.

His own breathing was uneven as well as he tried to keep himself calm. He wanted to be a rock for you to cling to, the calm in the storm. But he was so fucking scared himself. He thought he lost you. He thought he was going to walk in and see you dead on the ground.

So for the first time in a long time, tears ran down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. It was probably when he returned from the games to learn his wife had passed. After the confrontation with Jun-ho, he didn't cry. He just shut down emotionally, distanced himself, and drank a bit too much for a few days. He had never really given himself time to process those emotions except during the recurring nightmares about the incident.

After a few minutes, you heard a voice at the door. “Sir?”

You looked up to see two triangle soldiers. You tensed up, about ready to get up and run out of the room, but In-ho's embrace tightened ever so slightly to keep you with him.

He didn't turn. He couldn't because he didn't have his mask, and he wasn't going to doom the two guards by looking at them. “Get a cleaning crew to deal with this. We'll be out of here when they arrive.” He said, keeping his tone level.

When he heard them leave, he released you from the hug. He pulled back and looked at you. “Could we move into the bedroom? Is that okay?” He asked you gently.

It took you a moment to register his words. Your gaze was directed toward him, but it seemed you were looking through him. You eventually nodded your head. He had been intending on carrying you, but you stood up using the wall to keep your balance. He noticed your grimace from the movement. He suspected you were in pain, but he didn't dwell on it now.

He grabbed your hand gingerly, leading you into the other room. He didn't even care to grab the mask, totally forgetting it as his priority shifted to you.

When you entered the room, he locked it behind you. He didn't want to be bothered by the games right now. He would get the information about the breach later. Right now, he was needed here. Plus, he thought you would feel safer knowing it was only him with you.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling to the ground. You just sat there motionless, staying into space. He looked over at you, his eyes a storm of anger and fear and worry and love. He sat next to you, an action that startled you until you realized it was still just him.

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him. “It's just us in here, okay?” He said softly. He grabbed your hand in his, fidgeting with your fingers absent-mindedly. Occasionally his fingers would find their way to your pulse point as if he was subconsciously ensuring you were still alive.

He didn't know how long you both sat there like that. He didn't want to overwhelm you, so he just held you and occasionally murmured some comforting words. You could talk when you were ready.

Eventually, you broke the silence. “I didn't know what else to do.” You murmured softly. Your face was still blank, but he took some comfort in hearing your voice.

“That's okay. You did what you had to do to survive.” He said. Explaining this to you felt strange to him. It's the same words used to justify the murder in the games. Maybe his vision was clouded by his love for you, but he didn't think the games and what you just went through were comparable. It felt wrong to use those words even though by the game's logic, these two situations were both considered self-preservation. He didn't have time to go through this moral dilemma. Perhaps he would rethink all of his past decisions in the quiet of night, but right now, you needed him, and that was the most important thing to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again. “Do you want to know what happened?” You asked.

He sighed softly. “I would like to know eventually, but we don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to.” He said honestly. He didn't want to pressure you, but knowing the information would be helpful for investigating the incident and his own mental well-being. He wanted to know how he could prevent this from happening again.

You took a deep breath before beginning to speak. “He broke down the door and started looking through all the rooms. He was looking for me. I hid in the storage room, and I tried to sneak out like you said, but he was too fast and forced the door open.”

He grimaced slightly. He already assumed that the manager was there for you, but hearing it stirred an anger in his chest. “Did he say anything to you?” He asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. He said that he was going to hold me as ransom for the money.” You said in a small voice.

He stayed silent for a moment before gently cupping your face in his hand. He guided your gaze toward him. “Did he hurt you?” He asked. He tried to keep his voice gentle, but the simmering anger inside him caused his voice to be stern. He needed to know.

He felt you tense up, and that answered his question enough. You nodded slightly. “I got shoved around a bit. He tried choking me out, but I got him with the stun gun. That disarmed him and…” you trailed off, taking a deep breath before adding, “you know the rest.”

He tilted your head up slightly, dark eyes landing on the redness that would certainly turn to bruises. Physical reminders of the pain In-ho felt like he caused you by putting you in this dangerous environment.

There was that anger again. He could feel it coursing through his veins. It was wrath and hatred and fury. He wished you hadn't killed him so he could force the manager to feel at least 1000 times more pain and torture. He wanted the satisfaction of killing him slowly on his own terms.

You wanted to reassure him that you were okay. The bruises will fade with time. The lingering sense of pain where the manager's hands gripped your throat will leave. When he didn't seem to react, you sighed softly. It's time to take another approach. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” You said cheekily.

You could see it in his eyes. While he was unreadable to almost everyone, you could see his emotions clear as day. Although to be fair, you were the only one to see him without the mask. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I'm fine. Just a few bruises. Nothing that times won't heal,” you said. Physically, at least. This day would definitely haunt you for years, but you knew that wasn't his concern right now.

It took him a moment to register your words, but when he did, he looked down at you. Upon seeing your smirk, he couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto his face. He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “Only you could go through something like that and joke about it after.” He said.

“I just don't like seeing you upset.” You said softly.

He paused for a moment before pressing his lips to your forehead. You leaned into him. You both sat there in the intimate silence for a moment before you spoke again. “You know, I don't regret doing it.” You said. You sighed. “I didn't like doing it, but I think he got what he deserved.”

He tried not to seem surprised. He was surprised, but he didn't want you to think it was him appraising your statement negatively. He didn't have room to judge as he had an obvious reputation.

“And that's okay.” He said gently.

In a strange way, he was almost proud but not for the reason most would think. He could imagine Il-nam praising him for getting you to see the purpose of the games. Others would think he was happy to corrupt you. But honestly, that's bullshit.

He was happy that you had a reason to fight for your life. You considered yourself, your husband, and your future together more important than your personal code of ethics. He had seen how opposed to violence you were, and the fact you would act against your moral values for him was almost heartwarming.

It reminded him of himself. He did the same for his first wife. He was an upstanding police officer, but he decided to work with the people he was supposed to take down. He took loans and bribes to pay for her treatment, and he wouldn't have changed a thing. It was a testament to his devotion. His love language is acts of immorality

In-ho arranged for two nights off to spend with you. You both tried to pretend the other's nightmare hadn't woken you up. He appeared like he didn't notice your hands reach to your next and try to pry off the hands of the man in your dream. You didn't react when you felt his fingers on your pulse point as he calmed himself down. Through the next couple days, you tried to live as normally as the situation allowed. He occasionally needed to step out of the apartment to assess the state of the games and give orders. You waited for him rather impatiently. He also wanted to be with you as much as possible. It calmed both of you from the anxiety which was likely going to linger. Being here was dangerous and that was a risk you both would have to take. And you took it willingly if it meant being together.

He'd do anything for you, too. His list of misdeeds had grown more serious, so it's more accurate to say he would change his ways for the better for you. If he had to break the strict rules or if he had to leave the games behind entirely, that's fine. He'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

[moody-alcoholic]

Sub Ala Angeli

part 1 - The fall

Summary: Ghoap x fallen angel!reader, mini fic. Sub ala angeli - Under the wing of an angel.

CW: Mutilation, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, suicidal ideation.

AN: I hate to be a tease but I will be finishing cross my heart before I commit to this full time.

enjoy <3

You don’t remember the fall.

You don’t remember much after the excruciating pain of your wing being torn. The scream that left your throat felt strange. You’d never experienced pain before, you never experienced the stench of blood. They made sure you felt pain. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside you, there were all these new emotions: Sadness, pain, fear. 

Fear was the worst, the thump of your heart racing in your chest, the tears clouding your vision as you listened to your fate being decided. 

Exile. 

It had been decades since an angel had been exiled to Earth, most are sent below to the depths of hell to live among the demons they became traitors to. Your crime was different, your crime was forgivable. All it would cost you was a wing and to live among the humans you were sworn to protect.

Live a righteous life and the gates of heaven would open again. 

One wing is left as a reminder, the other is taken to stop you coming back until they say you can.

You don’t know where you are, you're laid on your stomach, the ground is wet, you’re in a forest. It’s cold, you're naked, your body exposed to the elements. You can feel the wound on your back throbbing, blood trickling down your side. You let out a sob turning to your side and pulling your knees up to your chest. 

You can’t even use your other wing to cover yourself. It hurts too much. It doesn’t matter anyway you’re already soaked. You watch as beams of sunlight break through the trees. The sound of the rain hitting the ground around you is strangely comforting. 

Maybe you’ll just lay here and die. Die of exposure or whatever new conditions you’re vulnerable to. At least when you die there'll be no more pain. 

Hopefully.

…

The snap of a branch jolts you awake. It’s dark now, your body shivers, goosebumps have risen on your skin. Your lip starts to quiver, your fingers and feet hurt to move.

“I’m sure it was this way.” You hear a voice, a sob escapes your throat. If people find you they might hurt you. 

“Johnny this is a waste of time, there’s nothing here. We’ve been looking for hours.” Another voice says. You use all your energy to push your hands into the soft ground trying to force your body up. A groan leaves your throat, everything hurts.

“What was that?”

“Probably a fox or something. We should get back, it’s already dark.” 

Your back throbs, each movement sends a stabbing pain through you. You can’t hold yourself up, you have no energy, you’re too injured. 

Maybe these strangers are your only hope, or maybe they’ll give you a quick death. Your body slams back on the ground and you let out a yelp, tears fill your eyes again. 

“Over here!” One of them calls. You see lights breaking through the trees ahead of you. It’s not like the warm glow of the sunlight though. It’s bright and white, harsh causing you to close your eyes. Your mind flicks back to the courtroom, high walls or pure white and gold. 

You let out another sob as the sound of footsteps gets louder. You can’t defend yourself, if they hurt you there’s nothing you can do. You turn back on your side propping yourself up on your elbow. You bring your hand up to block the light, squinting your eyes. 

“Holy shit.” They stop a few meters ahead of you, you slowly lower your arm. One of them steps toward you and you flinch before you can stop yourself. It makes your body throb with pain and you cry out, your hand flys up to grip your shoulder. 

“Okay, okay.” He says backing up. You can’t get a proper look at him, your head is swimming now, your body starts to shake. You let your hand fall as your breathing picks up, a new feeling washes over you. Panic. Maybe you were wrong to trust these people. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says, his arms outstretched palms open, he’s given his torch to the man standing behind him. He unzips his coat, pulling it off and holding it out. “You must be freezing, we can take you somewhere warm.” He says taking a little step towards you. This time you don't flinch. 

He takes another slow step, like he’s trying to move without spooking you. The arm propping you up gives way, your body slams painfully against the wet floor. You squeeze your eyes shut, gritting your teeth. Warm hands land on you, on your shoulder sending shivers up your spine. 

“Eazy lass, you’re okay.” He says, his voice is calm. Your head swims as he throws the coat over you. You hear the other man moving towards you. You turn your head and look up at the stranger now bent down by your face. He brushes a strand of hair out your eyes and smiles at you. 

You try to smile back, you try to get a good look at him but the light coming from behind him is too bright it stings your vision. Your head throbs as you reach out for him, it uses the last of your energy. You open your mouth to thank him but your body goes limp and everything goes black.

…

You don’t remember being bought here. 

You reach over for the water your hand is shaking as you pick it up and gulp it down. You’ve never been thirsty before, it’s a new feeling, everything is new. You go to stand up, your whole body feels unbalanced and you tip to the side crashing against the bedside table. You knock the glass over and it rolls on the floor smashing.

You wake in bed. You're still naked laid on your stomach. Som is bleeding through the curtains in the room. You look over and see a glass of water on the bedside table. Your body feels stiff, you push yourself up swinging your legs out the bed. Your back hurts, you grit your teeth reaching round to your back. You can feel bandages. 

If they wanted to kill you they would have done it already.

You back away, sumbling round to the end of the bed, your arms and wing stretching out as you try and balance yourself. The room to the door opens and you turn, it causes you to stumble and you fall backwards onto the floor. You let out a yelp as pain shoots through you. 

“Easy, you’re okay.” He says, you look up at him, wrapping your wing around yourself. It hurts pulling on all the muscles in your back, including the ones you won’t need to use anymore. Your breathing picks up, you look at him with wide eyes, trying to hide behind your wing as much as you can. He bends down so he’s on the same level as you. 

He's smiling at you, his head tipped slightly to the side. He has blue eyes and dark hair, he doesn’t look scary. 

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He says as you pull your legs up to your chest. The other man appears in the doorway with his arms crossed. He looks bigger than the guy with the dark hair, his eyebrow creased as he looks at you. He has blonde hair, and big arms, you swallow hard your eyes flicking back to the other guy.

“I’m Johnny, this is Simon.” He says thumbing at the guy behind him. “Do you have a name?” You shake your head.

"What happened to you, were you attacked?” He asks. You shake your head. “We tried to patch you up the best we could. We weren’t quite sure what you needed.” You lower your wing so he can see your face better. His smile gets bigger, he reaches out his hand.

"We thought maybe you could use something to eat? Or a bath?” He says. You feel your stomach rumble, hunger, you’ve never been hungry before. Your hand rests on your stomach. You nod, dropping your wing and reaching out for his hand.

Banners by plum98

[decadentpaperduck]

Long Been Buried - Astarion x Fem!Reader - Baldurs Gate

Summary: As the unofficially appointed leader of your team, the pressure builds one night in camp. Set around about Act 1/2 ish, Astarion supports Tav through a tough night. Words: 1.2k Warnings: Fluff, sad/angst ish, comfort

I have not published something I have written in a hot minute - debated putting that as a warning, but just wanted to offer some comfort in case anyone felt as overwhelmed as I tend to.

I decided just to pull off the plaster (band aid) on this one so forgive if not too polished, but after not posting my writing for years, I had to get it over with!

Thanks for reading!

_____________________

You let the flap of the tent fall shut behind you as you crawl into your bedroll and fall onto your back. The chill of the night air is apparent, even within the confines of your canvas cocoon. Your arms wrap around yourself in an attempt to warm your body and soothe your soul; palms brushing frayed cotton in a back and forth motion.

The fate of the world, the fate of your friends seems to be your hands. You aren’t quite sure how and when they put you in charge, but it was right about now that you wish they hadn’t.

Gale’s Deity ex-girlfriend demands the ultimate sacrifice in exchange for meaningless forgiveness, Karlach will meet a face worse than death if she doesn’t return to Avernus and Shadowheart seeks the acceptance of a soulless Goddess of pain and suffering.

But worse than all that you could allow to happen, remains that which you couldn’t prevent. That cannot be undone.

Astarion is a master of Stoicism, but you can see the way Cazador has dug his claws into him. The fear of enclosed spaces. The dislike for rats. The way he believes no one could ever want him around for anything more than his body.

You think about the first time you let him feed on you and how it took him several days after that to stop asking you if there was anything he could do for you in return, including sleeping with you.

You had politely declined his advances with shame that shone through your skin. In truth, he had become someone you cared about all too quickly, but you would never allow him to believe he owed you for something you did out of love, or something very close to it. 

You don’t seem to register when the tears first tumble from your eyes until they roll down the sides of your face, brushing the tips of your ears before hitting the pillow. Closing your eyes releases another round, descending downward, skimming your temples.

“Darling?” The familiar voice, smaller than you have ever heard it, whispers through the gap in the tent door. “May I come in?” You surmise it's likely he already knows you're upset but you attempt to lessen the impact of coming face to face with that reality by brushing away the evidence. “If you don’t answer me I am afraid I may have to commit an act of breaking and entering to ensure your safety.” Your laugh is a reflex you have grown used to in his company. A welcome one.

“Yes, you may.” One last drag of your hands across your face and Astarion appears at the entryway to your tent. You lean up onto your elbows and push yourself up into a seated position.

“Thank you.” Ever the gentleman, he replaces the fabric covering the doorway before making himself comfortable, mirroring your position, legs straight in front, leaning backwards on arms outstretched. “Is everything alright?” 

The simple answer is no, and perhaps that is written on your face. Astarion looks concerned, an expression he rarely wore. Something about his approach made you answer in truth. No quips. No forced positivity. Just your reality. But not before taking a deep breath.

“No.” You watch his face as carefully as he watches yours. You notice how his brow dips in the middle, as though the worries in his mind have settled neatly upon his forehead. “And I’m tired of pretending they are,” You swallow as teardrops gather along your bottom lash line. “Not that I think anyone is fooled.” You laugh, shaking your head as you avert your eyes from the intensity of his gaze. "I feel like a fraud, who am I to be standing here before you all like I have a clue?!"

“Darling, it’s not about anyone being fooled.” You can hear the restraint in his voice. “For better or worse, you  take it upon yourself to absorb everyone’s problems with the aim of finding an answer for them. That makes you a better person than most of us. But it doesn’t mean that every answer is good or will have a happy ending. It’s the hope that makes it worthwhile.” Rain begins to fall on the tent roof, the patter punctuating the peaceful pause.

“Take it from a man who traditionally does as much good as you do evil.” He leans forward and lowers his head in an attempt to catch your eye and when he has no luck, resituates himself beside you and plants his hand atop yours. You look back at your hands with a fondness. The softness of Astarion’s actions counter everything he ever wanted you to believe. “You inspire a hope in me that has long been buried in an empty casket in Baldur’s Gate.” 

You screw your eyes shut as you try to contain the tears, swallowing hard as your breathing threatens to release a body wracking sob. “Oh Darling.” He breathes, before leaping to action and wrapping his arms around you, pressing you close to his chest. The sob escapes into his cotton shirt with the criss cross front. “It will be okay.” He says into your hair. “It will be o-kay.” He rocks you slightly. He hushes you as you cry, a soothing symphony with the accompanying rain. Your body moulds into his or perhaps his moulds into yours.

“Will you stay with me?” You ask quietly. “You don't have to. I just-” You choke on your words, but before you can try to continue, his hand cradles the back of your neck.

“You don't have to explain yourself.” He turns his head and presses his lips against the top of your head.  “You don't have to go through this alone. You do so much for everyone else,” He leans back, peeling you from him, and holds your head perfectly between his two palms, your eyes interlocking. “Let me do this for you.” 

“This is nothing, I’ll be-” His lips press to your forehead and your eyes flutter shut on impact. The silence in the tenderness of the moment wraps around your heart and squeezes. How can you argue?

Before you think you might cry again, he sits back and looks at you. 

“How about we get some rest?” His hands squeeze your shoulders gently. You nod, exhausted from another day of walking, thinking and acting on behalf of others. Your body is limp and easily persuaded back into a reclined position. “Theeere we go.” Astarion’s words are softer and warmer than toasted marshmallows, and make you feel lighter and sleepier as he nestles down next to you. “It’s okay.” He says as you stare into one another’s eyes. “You rest.” He sweeps his fingers in a gentle caress across your forehead and behind your ear. “I won’t be far behind you.”

You resist slumber at the expense of a few more moments lost in his eyes, but soon sleep captures you. It’s gentle and forgiving, like the arms of the pale elf. 

He stays with you all night, and it doesn’t take him long to trance himself into a restful stasis, safe in the knowledge that here, in this moment, you have him and he has you.

[semisasseater]

I TOLD YOU LIKE A MILLON TIMES ─ se-mi

⤷ With you everything will be alright

| pairing : gf!se-mi x fem!reader | genre : angst if u squint, comfort, romance, fluff | warnings : mentions of past abuse (emotional & physical), trauma recovery, soft intimacy, themes of healing | summary : after escaping an abusive relationship, y/n struggles to accept love and care. Se-mi, her new girlfriend, is endlessly patient and gentle— y/n finally learns what love is supposed to feel like. | wc : 612 | authors note : before some of you horny hoes are like “why didn’t you add the smut🤓” well you horny whores it’s because i also got a smut request that honestly can be a part 2 of this cause i wanna edge yall! and because im running out of fic ideas. idk im very sorry ive been a sad bitch. not proofread

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

You never thought you’d feel safe in someone’s arms again.

After what your last relationship put you through—the bruises, the fear, the exhaustion of doing everything alone—you didn’t think love could be gentle. That it could be kind. That it could be anything other than survival.

Then Se-mi came along.

She was never loud in the way she loved you. She didn’t demand things from you, didn’t make you feel like you owed her something just for existing. Her love showed itself in soft gestures, in quiet moments, in ways that made you realize just how much you had gone without.

Like tonight.

You sat on the edge of the bed, fresh from the shower, the scent of your shampoo still lingering in the air. A towel draped over your shoulders as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through your damp hair, feeling the knots you didn’t have the energy to deal with.

Before you could sigh in frustration, Se-mi was there.

“Let me,” she murmured, taking the brush from your nightstand. She climbed onto the bed behind you, her legs bracketing yours as she gently gathered your hair. The first stroke was careful, deliberate. No tugging, no impatience—just the slow, rhythmic motion of the bristles smoothing through your hair.

You closed your eyes, leaning into the sensation. No one had ever done this for you before.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah… just not used to this.”

Se-mi hummed in understanding, continuing her slow work. “You should be,” she said simply. “You deserve this.”

Your chest ached at her words, at how easily she said them. Like it wasn’t even a question.

After finishing, she set the brush aside and kissed the back of your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

You let her help you into your clothes—something that once would have made you feel weak but now only made you feel cherished. She smoothed your shirt down over your skin, adjusting the hem before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

When you were with your ex, you had to be strong because no one else would be. But with Se-mi, you could just… be.

She held your hand when you went out together, never pulling, never leading—just grounding you. She paid for things without hesitation, not to control you, but because she wanted to. And when you were at a party and your chest started to tighten from the noise, she didn’t ask questions.

“Do you wanna leave?” she always whispered, her fingers warm against yours.

And no matter what, no matter where you were, if you nodded, she would take your hand and walk you out the door like it was the easiest decision in the world.

Because with Se-mi, it always was.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something you survived. It was supposed to be something that held you, that made you feel safe.

And for the first time in your life, you truly believed that.

Because Se-mi loved you in all the ways you had been denied.

And she always would.

@semisasseater

[akutasoda]

hello! platonic blade, dan heng,jing yuan and sunday with a teen!reader who is like fischl?

chuunibyo who roleplays royalty as a coping mechanism basically

royalties facade

synopsis - how are they with a fischl like teen

includes - dan heng, blade, jing yuan, sunday

warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, wc - 886

dan heng ★↷

↪from his years of experience with being on the express and knowing specifically march, dan heng was not unused to or even phased by your rather eccentric behaviour.

↪atleast, unlike some, you were the hardworking type which balanced out your often over the top actions and words. it was certainly a balance that dan heng found tolerable and your naturally keen instincts were something that interested him - especially when it came to your rather unorthodox ideas.

↪quite quickly, dan heng became accustomed to your presence and even to your manner of speaking which more often confused those around you. but it was his open mind and willingness to get along with you that meant the world for you.

↪while it was probably nothing for dan heng outside pure friendliness, to you it was something that you appreciated greatly - after all, not many would take the time to play along with your roleplay even if it was your passion.

↪and so, dan heng would soon be subjected to seeing your side out of roleplay. a version of you that was much more bashful and well behaved, and to dan heng, that was simply another version of you he could get along with.

blade ★↷

↪to say blade found you rather insufferable at first would be an understatement. it wasn't actually anything you did specifically, he just was never the type to be fond of outgoing people.

↪he was never fond of your outlandish remarks or naturally loud actions or even simply how you handled anything that came your way. anyone could be convinced that he simply loathed your presence.

↪but due to the fact that you were around him for long periods of time, blade, unfortunately so in his eyes at first, became unwillingly accustomed to you.

↪so much so, that you took the initiative and spent a lot of time by his side willingly - something blade would show displeasure to at first but soon seemed unfazed by it. blade would never pick up on it openly, but his accustomation to your antics was always greatly appreciated on your end.

↪and as a result of this growing closeness, blade began seeing you outside of your roleplay. you're more well behaved and reserved behaviour was almost foreign to him, he even found himself preferring the version of you in roleplay.

↪so while you may be too over the top for his liking, you still found a way to grow on him. your passion for roleplaying as royalty would be something that blade would indulge for you, even if it wasn't to his liking.

jing yuan ★↷

↪in some way, the general found your roleplaying rather amusing. but he never meant it in any type of condescending way, and more so in a way of curiosity - after all, it wasn't everyday he met someone such as yourself.

↪jing yuan took a genuine intrigue into this play of royalty you put on constantly, the formal tone in your voice mixed with an outlandish set of ideas and remarks was quite the contrast. although there was certainly no denying that you always did know what you were talking about.

↪even your knack for being able to investigate efficiently was interesting to him as it was clear you were certainly a skilled young individual.

↪perhaps it was the fact that he embraced and respected your roleplay of royalty that made the two of you grow close fast, but soon enough, jing yuan found himself being met with the other version of you.

↪the you that was much more reserved, a complete opposition to your usual demeanor. but jing yuan didn't mind, after all it was still you behind all that shyness.

sunday ★↷

↪sunday had met many people through his time on penacony, each and every one with different dreams and ambitions, different fears and regrets, yet he could barely recall half of them since he never took the time to know them enough.

↪so while he may have appeared unphased on the surface when presented with your rather loud behaviour and insistence on being classed as royalty, beneath he had many things he'd rather not say out loud.

↪it was safe to say that he certainly hadn't met someone exactly like you, although, just like royalty, you did speak with a formal manner that he quite liked - sunday didn't even need help from your raven, someone he also found intriguing, to translate your speech.

↪but some part of you, a small fleeting part, reminded him of how his sister used to behave when she was young. so sunday, surprisingly to outsiders, happily indulged in your roleplaying.

↪he never viewed you strangely or judged you for it, in fact he even commemorated just how much passion you put behind your facade. and that meant everything to you, something you appreciated deeply even if you never outwardly showed that appreciation.

↪sunday wasn't too surprised that beneath your roleplaying was someone who was rather shy and dedicated to their work, after all the royalty and eccentricity was only a facade - but he treasured how much you trusted him to show him that side of you.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

as someone who gets the worst cramps during my period i would love to read about reader getting them in the middle of the night and she wakes dr rafe up because it just hurts too much that she begs him for a pain killer injection even though she hates getting them after getting so many over the last few months and after he gives her one he helps her fall asleep again by massaging her stomach:((

blue eyes + bruises - blurb - period troubles

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✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

hey, love thank you so much for this request as someone who has stage 4 endometriosis this is something that i experience constantly. my thoughts are with you, love and you enjoy this!

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It’s the middle of the night and rafe is at the hospital; he was on call this weekend and unfortunately had to go in after a fifteen year old boy suffered a severe femur fracture in a football game. You knew the boy needed rafe's surgical skills almost as much you needed his cuddles. The apartment is currently eerily quiet, you'd shut off the tv hours ago, hoping the silence would lull you to sleep but it's just quiet, the kind of quiet that only adds to the ache in your abdomen. You've been hurting for hours, but it’s become unbearable now. You're no stranger to unbearable pain after the year you'd had last year, meeting rafe in the hospital was the only upside. Suddenly, a wave of cramps hit so hard that you can barely breathe through them, each one worse than the last. You begin to think that the word cramps isn't accurate enough to describe how it really feels; like your insides are being shredded with a knife. You’re tangled in blankets, tossing and turning, hoping beyond hope that rafe will miraculously come home soon, though you know it isn't likely.

In what feels like hours later but is probably only a few minutes, you hear the click of the door and sigh a breath of relief as you glance at the clock beside the bed. 2:47 AM. He must've finished up early, you thought. The pain is so intense now that you can’t help the quiet whimper that escapes your lips. Rafe hears it as he places his keys in the bowl beside the door, suddenly on edge as he remembers hearing those exact same noises when you were writhing in pain all those months ago in the hospital. He heads for the bedroom, urgently. He blinks a few times, the confusion slowly lifting as he sees your contorted face.

“baby, hey, you okay?” His voice is groggy but soft, reaching out to touch your forehead gently.

“I—I can’t,” you choke out, your voice strained as you curl in on yourself. “It’s too much. I need help, Rafe. Please.”

You see the worry flash across his face as he bends down onto his knee beside the bed. He knows the pain you’re talking about. He’s seen you go through it time and time again. But you know that look too—the one where he knows exactly what this means. You hate getting injections. You’ve had too many over the past few months, your body becoming all too familiar with the needle. But this time… this time, you can’t do it without help.

He leans over, his hand gently brushing your cheek. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just hold on baby.”

You nod, clutching the sheets, waiting as he disappears into the bathroom. It feels like an eternity, but when he returns, the needle is already filled. He kneels beside you again, his eyes full of both concern and understanding.

“I know you hate these,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing over your hand, “but this will help, i promise, angel.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself as the needle stings, the familiar feeling of it sinking in. You wince, but it’s only for a second. Almost immediately, a wave of relief starts to wash over you, the pain starting to ebb away, though it’s still there in the background, dulled. Rafe gently helps you lay back down, adjusting the blankets around you.

“Just breathe, sweetheart. It’s gonna pass,” he murmurs as his hands move to your stomach. His fingers press in lightly, massaging circles across your abdomen with practiced care. You sigh, the tenderness of his touch easing some of the lingering discomfort. Your body relaxes into the warmth of his hands, the pain retreating with each gentle movement. Before long, you feel yourself drifting, the exhaustion of the night and the relief from the injection lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Rafe stays beside you the whole time, watching over you, ensuring you’re okay. His touch never wavers as he keeps massaging your stomach, guiding you into a deep, restful slumber. The world outside the covers fades away, leaving only the sound of his steady breathing and the quiet comfort of being his in its wake.

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taglist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog @urdreamgirl12 @hockeybabe87 @sereneera @annaconscience @pogueprincesa @bibissparkles @obxbigsis @jjmaybankmylovee @kulekehe

[writeriguess]

hey! im so glad to hear you’re back to writing again!! your writings became such an act of comfort into my daily routine before so im so so happy you’re back!! <33

may i request eijirou kirishima x reader (in an established relationship) whereby after a date night, reader uses the train to go home and bf kiri accompanies her but the train was packed and the reader feels someone inappropriately touches her which made her uncomfortable, and kiri notices so he sorta swap sides with reader and comfort her, etc (it’s up to you on how you’d like to end it!)

author's note: I'm glad too <3 Thank you.

Steel and Shelter

The night had been perfect. A dinner date with Eijirou Kirishima always meant good food, warm laughter, and stolen kisses beneath city lights. You clutched his arm as you both walked toward the train station, your heart full from the joy of the evening. His hand rested over yours, thumb brushing your knuckles in absentminded affection. Even after months of dating, the little things he did still made your chest flutter.

"Did you have fun?" Kirishima asked, grinning down at you as the two of you descended the stairs into the station.

"Of course!" you beamed, squeezing his arm. "You always make date nights the best."

His cheeks dusted pink at your praise, and he let out a bashful chuckle. "Well, yeah, I gotta treat my girl right."

The station was busier than expected for this hour, but the two of you managed to slip onto the next arriving train. Unfortunately, it was packed. People stood shoulder to shoulder, filling every available inch of space. You barely had time to hold onto the overhead rail before the train lurched forward, pressing passengers even closer together.

Kirishima was right beside you, one hand gripping the rail, the other placed protectively behind you so you wouldn’t be jostled too much. It was a tight fit, but at least you weren’t alone.

Or so you thought.

A sudden, uncomfortable sensation made your stomach drop. A hand—one that definitely didn’t belong to Kirishima—skimmed against your hip before brushing over your lower back. Your muscles locked up as a sickening chill crawled up your spine. At first, you wanted to believe it was an accident. The train was crowded, people were pressed too close together—but then it happened again. This time, the touch was deliberate, lingering where it had no right to be.

Your fingers clenched the strap of your bag, your breath hitching. Panic coiled in your chest, but before you could react, Kirishima's voice cut through the heavy air.

"Hey, babe, switch with me."

His tone was light, casual even, but his crimson eyes were sharp, locked onto something—or rather, someone—behind you. Without question, you stepped aside as he maneuvered himself between you and the faceless stranger. His body was firm and unmovable, effectively shielding you. The warmth of his presence chased away the cold fear that had gripped you just moments ago.

You exhaled shakily, pressing closer to him. He didn’t say anything at first, just gently tucked you under his arm, his palm resting on your lower back in silent reassurance. But you could feel the tension radiating from him, the rigid set of his jaw, the barely restrained fury in the way his fingers flexed against your waist.

The next stop arrived, and as people shuffled to get off, Kirishima subtly adjusted his stance, maneuvering the two of you near the door. When the train emptied slightly, he finally turned his head just enough to glance at you.

"You okay?" His voice was softer now, laced with concern.

You nodded, though your throat was still tight. "I just...I felt—"

"I know," he murmured, eyes darkening. "I saw."

A flash of regret crossed his face, like he blamed himself for not noticing sooner, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he reached down, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I’ve got you."

The sincerity in his words made your chest ache. Kirishima had always been your safe place, your unshakable rock. Right now, his presence alone made it easier to breathe.

As the train neared your stop, he leaned down, pressing his lips against your temple. "When we get off, let’s take a longer route home. I don’t want you walking alone, and I could use some fresh air."

It was his way of making sure you were okay, without outright saying he wanted to keep you close for a little longer. You smiled up at him, nodding. "I’d like that."

When the doors opened, he guided you out, his arm still around you. The city air felt liberating compared to the stifling atmosphere of the train. And as the two of you walked, Kirishima kept you close, his presence a silent promise—one of safety, of love, and of unwavering protection.

Because with him, you were never alone.