#sorry this has taken so long for me to answer life got in the way

[lady-phasma]

It just clicked in my head that Daemon and the 11th doctor share an actor.....what that fuck? Those two characters are so diametrically opposed that I cannot reconcile this fact in my mind.

Hi anon! Yup, Matt Smith grew up!

(Or did he?)

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[jhdyuiee]

unconditional

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ pairing: ex-bf!jaehyun x fem!reader

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ warnings/tags: smut!, angst (first day back & i’m breaking yall’s hearts, sorry!!!), unprotected sex, oral (f&m receiving), multiple positions, multiple orgasms, cum eating, marking/biting, smacking, tit/breast play, making out/kissing, fingering, name calling (good girl) and pet names (love), jaehyun is jealous type, rough jaehyun, cliffhanger/mysterious ending (also sad)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ w.c: 2.7k

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ a.n: hi, jiji is back! hm, it’s been a while. in all honesty, this abrupt break i decided to take worked out in the end bcs school has been a big pain in the ass as of late & so writing has gotten hard. i also would like to apologize once more for honestly everything. however i am back now and yes, yes i know jaehyun leaves tomorrow… sigh, let’s just say that for now bcs if not i’ll start tearing up, lol. don’t forget to stay safe guys, i love you very dearly & thank you for waiting, i will be back with so much more! 🤍

the rain came pouring down hard and unexpectedly. you were not prepared for this at all, so you took shelter inside a cafe. you settled on waiting until the rain calmed down so you could go home.

staring at the gloomy weather made you rather gloomy as well. you never had fond memories of the rain, no dancing in the rain with your lover. instead, it was almost as if the rain brought your life some type of bad luck.

“y/n?” a male voice calls for you, causing you to turn.

your eyes widened, lips slightly parting at the person who stood in front of you.

“jaehyun?” you say lowly, low enough for the two of you to hear.

his face too changes, it’s almost like he’s trying to process it really was you who was in front of him. you took him in, noting how he hasn’t changed in the 5 years since you’d parted. in fact you’d say he got even more… hotter?

“it really is you,” he says breathlessly, to which you nod. “i-is the seat taken?” he asks as he points to the seat in front of you.

“n-no” you respond. he sits down, looking right at you.

“how have you been?” he starts off by asking.

“well… i-i suppose i’ve been fine. how about you?”

he thinks for a second before responding. “i could be better,” he says, chuckling. your heart nearly melting at the sight of his dimples, the very ones you used to adored.

he asks you more questions about how the past 5 years had gone, you too gaining insight on his past 5 years. there was never any mention if you or him were in a relationship during the past 5 years, it was almost like a forbidden topic.

you mindlessly turn to the window, noting how the rain had finally stopped but the clouds were still there. you didn’t know whether to leave mid-conversation or stay a while longer. it had been 5 years, 5 excruciating years without him… to leave him now was-

“are you going to leave?” his questions bring you back to him.

your mouth opens, then closes, and opens again but he interrupts. “don’t leave… not yet. instead, please stay with me for today y/n,” he asks.

you didn’t even hesitate, already settling on your answer before he even finished asking you. you two leave the cafe, you follow him walking alongside him under his umbrella. your head filled with the endless possibilities of how today could go and where the night would lead you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“y/n,” jaehyun whispers into your ear in a sultry tone.

your hot breath tickled his ear as your eyes interlocked with his lustful eyes. you wanted him, he wanted you. it had been so long since you’ve felt not only his touch, but a touch at all.

“can i?” he whispers as his eyes are on your lips. you nod, inviting him in.

his lips crash onto yours, melting together as they once used to. he started off gentle, almost as if he were testing the waters before involving the kiss into something more rough and filled with desire. it brought you back to the days of 5 years ago.

his hands traveled to the back of your head, tugging on your hair. his tongue fighting its way inside you until it began crashing with yours. you started feeling weak, legs almost giving out but he held you. he pressed you against the wall, body nearly melting into yours. you could feel his hardened member as it pressed against you.

you moaned into the kiss, trying to say his name. he tugged on your bottom lip, finally departing from your lips. your eyes watery, face feeling hot all over. your dazed gaze finding jaehyun’s lustful one. jaehyun groans before sinking onto his knees. you knew where this was going, so you helped him.

you began taking off your shirt, bra, and unbuttoning your jeans, taking them off. just as you were about to take off your panties, his hands stopped you. “just open your legs for me,” he says, to which you obliged.

jaehyun gives you one last look before disappearing in between your legs. you felt his lips nip and kiss on your inner thighs, making sure to mark you up. his wet tongue licks your already soaked panties, moaning when he gets a small taste of you. a taste he has been dying to have for 5 years.

sliding your panties to the side he licks your cunt up once, getting a full taste of you now. jaehyun almost swears he’s addicted to you again. “how i’ve missed this taste,” he moans, meeting your eyes again before diving back inside you.

his tongue swipes up your slit one more time before using his two thumbs to spread your pussy lips apart. he lets his tongue intrude inside your entrance, sliding against your gummy walls. you moaned rather loudly at the intrusion, tightening around his tongue. jaehyun could feel as your walls throbbed around his tongue, his cock hardening at the thought of how your cunt would feel wrapped nicely around him. jaehyun cursed himself, finding himself too impatient.

you began chanting his name, crying it out with every fucking of his tongue. he found your voice so sweet, so beautiful like a song he could hear on repeat and never get tired of. your fingers grabbed onto his soft locks of hair, grinding yourself on his face. your clit rubbing against his nose, you felt yourself reaching your end already. jaehyun knew you far too well too, knowing you were reaching your end as well. so he grips onto your thighs, fucking his tongue quicker and when he feels your walls clench around him he pulls his tongue out.

you were left on edge, whining at the loss of sensation of not being able to cum. jaehyun didn’t look up, busying himself with kitty licking your cunt. he kissed your sensitive clit, once, twice, three times. so lost you failed to notice his two digits that already worked their way along your slit.

“j-jaehyun?” you asked hazily, looking down at the male as he already stared straight at you. “wha- oh my god!” you moaned out the last part when you felt his two digits plunge inside your soaking cunt. the squelching sound echoing in the doorway, you didn’t even worry about if your neighbors heard. you were far too focused on the way his fingers fucked inside you over and over so quickly. already sensitive from his tongue, you were close to cumming again.

“i-i’m gonna c-cum!” you breathlessly groaned, biting down on your lips so as to not shout again. jaehyun had no intention of leaving you on edge again, so he fucked his fingers into you faster and deeper. he attached his lips onto your clit, toying with it. he remembered how much you loved it when he would teasingly dote on your clit. jaehyun knew your body as if it were his first language.

you let out a gasp before you finally came all over his hand and face. you hadn’t cum like that in a while, your fingers only being able to pleasure you so much. jaehyun licked you up one more time before kissing your clit. he got up, holding your body up before you could fall onto the ground. your legs were giving up already.

he shoved his soaked fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking them clean. “you did so good, love. was always such a good girl for me,” he whispers. his way of words, too, always turned you on.

when you finally licked him clean, he removed his hand from your mouth. in a split second his demeanor changes, his eyes turning more gentle. “as much as i wanna be inside you, i don’t have a condom. so-” you interrupt him. “i-it’s alright jae, please just… i wanna feel you.”

your words too turned him on, in a matter of seconds his pants and boxers were off. his aching cock standing proud. “jump,” he tells you.

you jumped, legs wrapping around his waist. your back still against the wall. his cock rubbed along your soaking slit before his leaking tip plunged into your entrance. 

“fuck- you’re so tight, no one fucked this pretty pussy while i was gone?” he groans. you didn’t respond, already drunk stupidly on his cock that was snugly wrapped around your gummy walls. it had been too long since you’d taken anything like his.

your eyes widened when you felt a smack against your ass cheek. “i asked you a question, or are you too drunk already to answer,” he says in a rough tone.

“uh, ye-yes b-but they don’t c-compare to y-you!” you moaned loudly when you felt him thrust into you rougher, deeper.

jaehyun was always the jealous type when it came to you, you were his and his alone is what he thought. in his world, no one was allowed to have you, it was the one thing he regretted when you two broke up. he couldn’t fathom the fact that some filthy bastard would be able to lay his hands on you, someone as tasteful as you.

“no one could leave you satisfied, right love?” he asks you, to which you just repeatedly say no. his mouth forms into a smile before his lips find themselves on your shoulder. his lips kiss along them, traveling to your neck, and jaw before coming down to your tits.

he pecks one of your tits before wrapping his mouth around your nipple. he accidently bites on your nipple when he feels you clench around his cock. jaehyun mutters a small curse as he kisses his way to your other breast. it receives the same attention as the previous one, only that this time he doesn’t accidentally bite your nipple.

“such perfect tits… were always my favorite,” jaehyun mutters, kissing your tit before parting from it. “now then, are you ready?” he asks you.

“y-yes please fuck me, be rough like you used to,” you said desperately as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

jaehyun’s hands grip onto the bottom of your ass where he lifts you up slightly before plunging you back down on his cock, chucking at your choked out moan. you truly were the cutest, he loved you so very much.

he slides his cock in and out, out and in, of you. he groaned against your exposed neck as you repeatedly clenched around him. you couldn’t help it, jaehyun fucked you so deeper, cock reaching your womb with every thrust. it wouldn’t be long before you’d cum again.

crushing you to the wall, he secures you against it so he could maneuver one of his hands to your clit. he used his thumb to rub the poor thing, “cum, cum on my cock like the good old days love.”

and so you do, erupting around his cock that still fucked into you. you knew he wouldn’t stop until he came, so you waited, encouraging him with filthy words to get him worked up. it was doing the trick, you felt him twitch inside you.

“whe-where do you w-want me to cum?” he asks you, thrusting into you quickly, nearly at his release.

“in mmh-me!” you moaned, clenching around him. “a-are you sure?” he questions you.

“y-yes, i’ll buy a pill tomorrow– please, just please i wanna feel your warmth inside me~”

“fuck,” jaehyun curses, filling you up with his seeds. his lips crashing onto yours as you milked him of his cum.

he parts from the steamy kiss you two just shared to carry you to your bedroom. he still remember the layout of your apartment. jaehyun drops you on your bed, and you watch as he takes off his shirt, sneakily glancing at his still hardened member. your mouth is nearly drooling all the more.

“turn around, on your hands and knees love,” jaehyun says, watching as you obliged to his every word. he watched as you arched your back, ass sticking out nicely, leaking with his cum. he couldn’t resist smacking your ass, left and right roughly. you moaned against your bed comforter, clenching it tightly as you got smacked from behind. you feel his warm cum dripping down your thigh, you try clenching your entrance– jaehyun taking notice.

“how cute, trying to make sure it doesn’t slip out?” he teasingly says before jerking his cock, bringing it to your slit. he rubs against your juices and his cum before stretching your gummy walls once more. it was incomprehensible how tight you always were, just right for him– just made for him.

“how is it love? you always loved it when i took you from behind, didn’t you?” he continues to tease you. “i love it! i love your cock so much j-jae, so good~”

he gripped your hips tighter, tight enough to leave prints the next day. you felt as his tip touched your g-spot so clearly, reaching your womb with every thrust in. jaehyun watches as you begin to wiggle underneath, shaking your ass against him. he smirks, smacking your ass which jiggled from his touch.

a white ring formed around his cock, a mixture of you both. it oddly enough ignited him, fucking into you in rapid, deeper strokes. your tears and drool adorning the comforter. your tight walls hugging his cock tightly, and with one smack to your ass you came for a third time. you gushed all over his pelvis.

“good girl,” jaehyun mutters, continuing his ministrations before he too came once again. only this time he didn’t part from your pussy, fucking you in slow, gentle thrust.

by the time he finished, he laid on your bed. jaehyun was exhausted, and you were too but… you still had something up your sleeve. crawling to him you stopped on his side. “wh-what are you doin-” jaehyun gets interrupted mid-sentence when he feels your lips kiss his tip. he didn’t stop you, in fact he wanted you to continue.

you spit on his cock, jerking it as to spread your saliva along his shaft. your eyes traveling back to jaehyun who hungrily looked at you. going back to his cock you lower your head, opening your mouth so you could finally take him inside. you shoved his cock inside until the tip reached your throat, you gagged and groaned against his cock when you felt him twitch inside. staying like that for a while longer, trying to get accommodated. once you did, you started bobbing your head on his cock, using your tongue to lick along his shaft. never forgetting to tease his slit, something he loved.

you felt as one of his hands tugged on your hair, helping you to better move yourself on his cock. jaehyun was a mess, he felt blessed– praised the lords above. he tried thinking of the nastiest atrocities known to mankind as to not bust so quickly, but that proved to be an impossible task. i mean, how could he when you so beautifully wrapped your sweet mouth around his cock.

and so it wasn’t long before he came inside your mouth, your mouth feeling his warmth before swallowing it down. you now felt so full, unable to take anymore. jaehyun too, you milked him dry, taking all of him in you.

you crawled to him, laying beside him. he engulfs you into his embrace, kissing you so tenderly. you two were exhausted but for what it was worth, it wasn’t regretful. his hand strokes your back, playing with your hair. it was peaceful, so peaceful that you secretly wished for your days to be like this. you were almost lulled to sleep by jaehyun before you opened your eyes when he whispered into the quiet room.

“we’re unconditionally timeless, and so is our love.”

far too exhausted to reply back, you just smile. you snuggled into his body, melting into him before you drifted off to dreamland. however, it wasn’t until you woke up the next day and felt the cold that you knew. 

jaehyun was gone, gone from your life once more. the intimate night you two shared last night, his parting gift.

there was no getting back together, no peaceful nights where the two of you lay in each other’s embrace. you cried and cried that entire morning, and silently prayed for a day where you two could reunite again. for fate to align you two again because after all…

jeong jaehyun was your first love and last love.

© jhdyuiee

2024. 11. 03

final a.n: AHHHHH, jae leaves tomorrow. i don’t know what to do guys, like my man is leaving for the next 2 years. like what do you mean my man who has served needs to serve more?! consider this story as my last jaehyun fic while he is still a free man, lol, and no this doesn’t mean i’ll stop writing abt him. instead, think of this as a new beginning (?) okay i think that’s enough… i’ma go now! i hope you all enjoyed this read (wrote it in one day, very proud of my dedication after all the chaos school has brought me) and i’ll be sure to upload lots this month! stay safe, may we jaehyun fans make it until may 2026!

p.s: the cover picture makes me go feral, i just had to include it!

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Secret |1|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You just wanted a happy life with your girlfriend but then Ghostface attacks, revealing long thought to be buried family secrets.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Stabbing, Break in

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

“Hey babe, what’s up?” you asked.

Tara smiled, even while at work you still managed to answer her calls. She could hear you moving around, the clanging of glasses and the sound of patrons on the other end of the phone. “I miss you,” Tara said. She hadn’t seen you all day and she was home alone and bored.

You chuckled. Tara couldn’t make out the words, you sounded far away but she could tell you were talking to a customer. “Sorry,” you said, coming back to the phone. “We saw each other yesterday.” Tara didn’t say anything, pouting as she grabbed a pot to make dinner. “But,” you sighed, but Tara knew you were smiling. “I missed you too.”

“You didn’t spend the night last night,” Tara pouted, even though you couldn’t see her she wanted to make you feel guilty. “I’m home all alone.”

“You’re always home alone.”  Tara’s pout turned into a frown, she glared at you through the phone. “Besides I have an apartment, we could literally be alone together whenever you want.”

“Your apartment is tiny.”

Tara couldn’t help but smile, imagining the eye roll you’d surely give her. “Is that your way of saying when we get out of this hellhole, you’re not going to live with me?” Tara rolled her eyes; you always made everything so dramatic. “It’s fine. You’ll be going to college, living on campus, and I’ll be living in a shoebox all alone wherever you decide to go.”

“I’d love to live in a shoebox with you,” Tara giggled. “Sounds cozy.”

“Yeah?” you teased. “I thought my apartment was too small.”

“It is.” Your apartment truly was tiny. There was a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. It was tiny but it was all you. Tara knew it was the best you could do and still save money and since you were on your own it was actually incredible how well you were doing. She still loved giving you shit about your tiny apartment though. “But I like the idea of being in close quarters with you.”

It seemed you had taken the phone away from your ear again. Tara heard you mumbling and someone else, they had a deeper voice, she assumed it was your boss. “I have to go,” you sighed. “I’ve been informed this has counted as my break.”

Tara rolled her eyes; your boss could be an ass at times. “Tell them you’re dealing with an emergency. Your girlfriend is needy and wants your attention.”

You chuckled again. Tara bit her lip, she didn’t need to see you, just hearing your laugh was everything. “I’m not really sure he cares about that.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“I’ll come over after I get off.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“It’ll be late.”

“I’ll wait up,” Tara said again. She always tried to wait up for you. You worked at a bar and usually didn’t get off till well after midnight, almost early morning the next day at times. There were days you’d get off and come over and you’d be in bed for maybe an hour at most before Tara was getting up for school, those days you were always still in bed by the time she got home.

“Off the phone!” an angry voice came. They were clearly a good distance away, but Tara could hear them clear as day.

“Two seconds!” you screamed back. “I really have to go,” your voice went back to being soft, like it always was when you spoke to Tara. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Tara smiled as she hung up. You’d been dating for almost two years and had said ‘I love you’ a long time ago but it never failed to make Tara blush.

Tara smiled to herself, swaying back and forth in the kitchen. You and her always casually talked about the future together. It wasn’t anything crazy, it wasn’t talks about marriage and getting a house together. It was simple, it was talking about moving in together once Tara graduated. It might seem rushed to most people, moving in together right after high school, especially since you were a few years older, but Tara was eighteen and she knew what she wanted.

Some of the people who thought she was crazy were her best friends, they didn’t have a problem saying it either. Tara didn’t listen to them though, you and her had a plan. Tara would graduate and once she heard back from the schools she applied to, she’d choose, hopefully she’d get into her number one choice, then the two of you would find a little place by campus and you’d work, she’d go to school, and she’d get to come home to you and wake up next to you every day.

Since she couldn’t talk to you, she decided to text Amber. She was bored and though she only needed to entertain herself for a few hours she didn’t want to do it alone. She would just have to make sure Amber didn’t spend the night. You and Amber didn’t get along to put it lightly. You basically hated each other but tolerated each other’s presence, to an extent, for Tara’s sake. Tara honestly wasn’t sure why you didn’t like each other. It was more Amber than you, you kind of just reciprocated her hatred. Amber was never fond of you though. Tara has tried to ask a few times what the deal was, and Amber only ever said she just didn’t think you were good enough.

Tara: Wanna come over? We can binge watch movies

Amber: Where’s the girlfriend?

Tara rolled her eyes. Amber always started off hostile when it came to you. Ever since Tara introduced you, even before the two of you started dating. Amber has always had attitude. Tara tried to avoid talking about you but in times like this it was hard when Amber was the one bringing you up for no reason.

Tara: Work

Amber: Glad to know I’m the second choice

Tara: Stop

Tara: Do you want to hangout or not?

Tara: I’ll make the popcorn

Amber: You can do better than that

The phone on the counter started to ring. Tara looked up from her phone, scrunching her eyebrows at the ringing. No one ever called the landline, if someone wanted to talk to her or her mom, they had their cell. Hell, Tara wasn’t even sure she knew the home phone number. She shook her head and went back to texting Amber.

Tara: You get first pick of the movie?

Amber: I got some homework to finish up

Tara rolled her eyes, of course Amber was going to be difficult. The landline continued to ring. Tara was doing her best to ignore it, whoever was calling seemed persistent though.

Tara: Open liquor cabinet

Amber: Sold!

Tara: Fucking landline won’t stop ringing

“Hello?” Tara answered the landline with an eyeroll, not being able to stand the ringing any longer and hoping to get rid of whoever was on the other end quickly.

“Hello, is Christina there?” A man asked.

Tara rolled her eyes again, of course it was someone asking for her mom. “No, she’s not available. May I take a message?”

“Oh, uhh, yeah, sorry,” he stumbled over his words. Tara didn’t pay him much mind as she got the footrest and made her way over to get the key to the liquor cabinet. “I’m a friend of hers from group. Shit,” he whispered, clearly not meaning to say that.

“From her shit?” Tara smiled to herself, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

“Just tell her I’m from group, I’m Charlie, she’s got my number.”

“Oh, she goes to group?” Tara asked, not believing for a second her mom was going to any sort of group.

“I shouldn’t have-look can you just tell her Charlie called?”

“And I’ll do exactly that Charlie, once you tell me what kind of group we’re talking about. Is it AA? NA?”

“Well, you sound exactly like she described you.”

“She talks about me in group?” Tara couldn’t believe that either, that definitely didn’t sound like her mom.

“Look, I don’t think I can really talk about that.”

Tara sighed, pulling out her phone again. She needed to tell Amber about this. Amber knew exactly what her mom was like and there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy this.

Tara: Dude I think it’s my mom’s new BF

Amber: Seriously???

“What did she say about me?” there was an edge of hostility in her tone, she wanted to hear all about what her mother possibly said about her in this group.

“Well, she loves you very much.”

“Oh, what does she love about me?” Tara asked, her sarcasm coming back.

“She loves that you’re creative, you love art and TV and movies.”

“Okay, lots of people love movies,” she shook her head, dismissing him.

“But she said you love scary movies and that you guys have that in common. She’s proud at making a fan out of you.”

“She is?” Tara slowed her movements, she used to watch scary movies with her mom all the time, but she’d never heard her mom say she was proud of her for anything before.

“Yeah, she told me the other day she wonders, what’s your favorite scary movie?” Tara ignored the way the man’s voice changed, still focusing on the fact that her mom was apparently proud of her.

“Uhh, The Babadook, it’s an amazing meditation on motherhood and grief.”

“Isn’t that a little fancy pants?” the man asked with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s elevated horror.”

“What does that mean, elevated horror?”

“You know, it’s like scary but with complex emotional and thematic underpinning, it’s not just some schlocky cheeseball nonsense with wall-to-wall jump scares.”

The man hummed, not seeming very interested in her answer. “That seems kind of boring to me. Have you ever seen Stab?” his tone changed again when he asked her the question, but once again Tara didn’t think much of it.

“Once, I think, at a sleepover, when I was like twelve.”

The man laughed at that. “You live in Woodsboro, and you don’t know Stab? Well, your mother loves that movie, she talks about it all the time in group. How well do you remember the original?”

“I don’t know, and it was like super 90s, it was really over lit, and everyone had weird hair.”

“Do you remember the beginning?”

“Not really, I mean it started with a kill scene, right? They always started with a kill scene.”

“Yeah, that’s right. That’s right,” he tone shifted again. “It’s a girl at home alone, she answers the wrong number and starts talking with the killer who makes her play a game.” Tara slowed her movements again, thinking the conversation was treading into weird territory. “Would you like to play a game, Tara?” he whispered her name. A chill went down her spine and she quickly hung up, not bothering to answer him.

Tara tossed the phone on the counter, watching it as if it would ring again. Her eyes darted around the house, looking for anything that shouldn’t be there. She pulled out her phone and locked all the doors, arming the alarm. She knew it was Woodsboro and someone always liked to make prank calls, especially around this time of year but she wasn’t taking her chances. Tara looked out the window, not seeing anyone creeping around her yard as she closed the curtains.

Tara checked the time on her phone. Only several minutes had passed since she had talked to you. She still had a few hours before you’d get off and get to the house. Her thumb hovered over your contact, wanting nothing more than to hear your voice. Tara knew she was just being paranoid, but she just wanted your comfort, you’d calm her down within seconds. She didn’t want to bother you though, she knew you were at work, you were busy, and you’d already been yelled at for just talking to her.

She left your contact and went to text Amber. She just needed to be talking to someone. It was clearly a stupid prank, but she just wanted someone to help keep her sane otherwise her imagination would drive her crazy.

Tara: It was some psycho. I’m locking the doors.

Amber: WTF??? You okay?

Tara started to type out she was fine and just a little jumpy. She knew it was probably a prank but that didn’t mean it wasn’t freaking her out. Before she could finish typing her text though the phone started ringing again, making her jump.

Amber: You should answer it.

Tara scrunched her eyebrows looking at Ambers text, she slowly lifted her eyes to look at the ringing phone again, then back down at her cell. Her thumb hesitated over the letters as she typed out her message.

Tara: How did you know my landline was ringing?

Tara: Amber?

Amber: This isn’t Amber

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE BITCH

Tara moved to call the police; she had nine dialed, tears slowly began to fill her eyes, when another message appeared.

Amber: ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara ran back to the counter, picking up the phone. “This isn’t fucking funny Amber,” she said but couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice.

“I told you, this isn’t Amber,” the same voice as before said, this time sounding much more sinister. Just then a video was sent to Tara, when she opened it, she saw footage of Amber, sitting in her room and brushing her hair. “Amber’s looking particularly fetching tonight. She really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone.”

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I want to play a game,” he talked to her as if she was a child. “Stab movie trivia, three rounds, you call the cops, she dies, you get a question wrong, she dies, her parents aren’t home, I can be in that room in fifteen seconds. You want a warm-up question?”

“I told you, I don’t know these movies,” came out in a whine, tears already getting ready to fall. “I don’t! Ask me about something I do know,” she tried to bargain. “Ask me about It Follows, ask me about Hereditary, ask me about The Witch.”

“In the first Stab movie,” he continued, completely ignoring Tara’s pleas. “What Woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?”

“It’s Sidney Prescott! It’s Sidney Prescott and she lived on Elm.”

“Correct. You see, you’re gonna do great at this. Okay, question one.”

“Nonono, I got that one right, it should count.”

“Anyone could have gotten that one right, Sidney’s in every movie but the last one. Question one, who wrote the original book the Stab movies are based on?”

“The chick from TV,” Tara struggled to remember her name. She had never read any of the books and she certainly didn’t watch the morning show the lady did.

“The chick from TV is not going to cut it Tara,” they let out a disappointed sigh.

“Oh! Gale Weathers! It’s Gale Weathers you motherfucker.”

“Correct. Amber might live to see the sunrise. Question two, who played the dumb bitch at the beginning of Stab one who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that the answer you’re going with?” Tara quickly typed on her phone, going to IMDB and looking at the cast for Stab. “A non-answer counts as a wrong answer Tara. Time’s running out.” He continuously repeated the words tick tock, getting faster and faster as the seconds passed, making Tara more anxious and scroll faster.

“Maybe I made a mistake,” he continued, causing Tara to halt her scrolling for a second. “Maybe Amber isn’t enough motivation.” Tara let out a shaky breath, preparing herself for his next words. “Maybe I should have gone after your little girlfriend,” he spit out, not able to hide is clear hatred. “It’d be much easier, I mean it’s late, there’s no one around. No one would even hear her scream.”

“She has nothing to do with this!” Tara screamed, sobbing into the phone. She couldn’t get the image out of her head of you leaving the bar and getting jumped by Ghostface, getting stabbed and left to bleed out in the street with no one to help.

“She has everything to do with this,” the voice snapped. Tara didn’t even have time to process the clearly emotional outburst. “Tick tock Tara,” they snapped again. “Or should I just kill both? I’m sure I can gut Amber and then make it to-”

“Heather Graham!” Tara screamed finally finding the name, cutting the killer off before he could threaten you again.

“Correct,” he said, going right back to his calmer demeanor. “You pulled that one out, now for the final question, who was the killer in Stab one?”

“Oh, I know this one you fuck,” Tara gasped, realizing she knew the answer. “It’s Billy Loomis! It’s Billy Loomis and he was Sidney’s boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson, and I got you asshole,” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved at getting the answer right. “I got it! I got it right!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Tara,” he almost sounded sympathetic. “But that’s just not correct.”

“What?” Tara whispered, confused, and not believing what she was hearing. “No no no no it is, that is right.”

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, there are two killers in the original Stab. I’m afraid someone’s gotta die now.”

“Nono, Amber I’m coming!” she shouts as she sets down the phone and grabs a kitchen knife, running for her front door.

When Tara threw open her door, she was met with the sight of Ghostface who quickly slashed their knife across her left side. Tara punched them in the face and slammed the door. She fought against Ghostface as he tried to shove his way in but eventually, she got the door shut, quickly locking it.

Tara pulled out her phone again, arming the system again and hitting the button to alert the authorities. She picked up her knife, slowly backing up down the hallway as she heard Ghostface relentlessly banging on the door trying to get in when suddenly the banging stopped. Tara’s heart dropped when she heard the alarm system say it was disarmed, Ghostface had access to her system somehow. Tara quickly armed it again, but Ghostface was ready, disarming it once again. They went back and forth arming and disarming the alarm system until it finally landed on armed.

Tara stood at the end of the hallway gasping for breath as she continued to sob. The landline rang again, startling her and making her swing the knife. She held the wall, sobbing as she made her way back to the landline.

“Hello?” Tara said, her words shaky as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, keeping the hand holding the knife raised.

“Bonus question Tara,” Ghostface whispered.

“Please stop,” she begged.

“Do you think I made it inside your house before you could re-arm?”

Just as Tara’s eyes widened with the realization, Ghostface came out from behind her, stabbing her in the stomach. Tara let out a scream of pain. When Ghostface pushed her into the kitchen island she turned around, smacking him across the head before he could stab her again.

Ghostface grabbed her by the head and shoved her to the floor. Tara rolled over, kicking Ghostface in the stomach. Ghostface brought down their boot, snapping Tara’s leg. Tara rolled over, sobbing from the pain.

Ghostface brought down his knife towards her face, but she reached up, causing the knife to go through her left hand. Tara screamed, holding Ghostface’s arm up as he continued to try and push the knife towards her face despite it still being in her hand. He finally pulled the knife out and Tara kicked him, making him lose his balance and crash to the floor.

Unable to walk, Tara crawled her way to the front door, screaming for help. Just as Tara reached the door and she could hear the police sirens, Ghostface yanked her back, stabbing her in the side several more times.

“Nononononono,” Tara screamed as Ghostface brought his knife down onto her again.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | raymond leon x reader

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶��𝓎 | since you've managed to outsmart (or, more accurately, seduce) your last four bodyguards, your wealthy father decides it's time to take a new approach: hire a timekeeper to watch you. after all, a man who dedicates his life to the law can withstand the wiles of a spoiled, lonely girl... right?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 | 4.7k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 | dubcon smut (rough sex, daddy kink, choking, slapping, creampie, breeding kink, glove kink, degradation), age gap (raymond is ????, reader is early 20s), slight dd/lg undertones, reader is a bit dark and manipulative hehe

You were rolling your stockings up your legs, one of the final stages in dressing for the party tonight, when your bedroom door opened.  “Hey, Ray,” you greeted with a purr as he stepped inside.

“Officer Leon,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you smiled, tilting your head.  “I’m sorry, sir.  I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

He scoffed, looking away, and you bit your lip— he was getting frustrated, in more than one sense of the word, and you were going to get what you wanted (like always). Boys are simply too easy.

This whole cat-and-mouse thing was starting to drive you a little crazy— none of the other bodyguards had taken this long to crack.  But really, the anticipation just added to the fun.

You stood up and turned your back to him, hoping he was eyeing the V-shaped portion of your back he could see with your gown still open.

“Will you help me zip up my dress?” you asked sweetly, making sure your hair was out of the way and looking back over your shoulder at him sweetly.  He sighed but stepped closer to you, but tugging on the zipper only lifted the bottom of your dress a bit— so he had to put his other hand on your hip to hold it in place as he pulled the zipper up, and you were thankful he couldn’t see your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.  His hands were so strong, you could feel it even through the gloves— and those fucking gloves, shiny black leather, he knew damn well what he was doing to you.  He just didn't seem to care.

"There," he said when he'd tugged it up to the top, stepping back, and you turned around to face him.  The dress was more elegant than you usually went for: you traded in your lace and bows in pastel shades for a dark purple silk that fell to the floor.

"What do you think?" you asked, biting your lip.  "Daddy picked it out for me."

"He has expensive taste," Raymond noticed, though he conspicuously didn't comment on your appearance.  He was very uptight, especially about professionalism.  You sort of got the feeling that if you could just pull one of his strings hard enough, he'd totally unravel: which is why you kept trying.

As he tried not to look at you, you gave him a slow look up and down.  "Is that what you're wearing tonight?" you asked incredulously, pointing to his high-neck black sweater and long leather trench.

"I'm working tonight, so yes," he answered.

Everyone thought Raymond stuck out like a sore thumb in your room— his angular, dark form against the soft baby pinks and white laces around your bed, a hardened cop amongst the porcelain baby dolls and fluffy stuffed animals and gold-edged tea sets: but you thought he fit right in, standing there amongst all your playthings.

~

The party was a bit dull— you were having more fun toying with your bodyguard than anything else.  “Try this,” you’d insist as you held up an hors d'oeuvre to feed him; he had to give in, he had to do whatever you said in front of all these people, but he glared at you as he leaned forward and took a bite out of the mini-tart.

You bragged to your father’s guests about your new bodyguard— or toy, as you called him more often.  “Daddy bought him for me,” you’d say, “and he has to do whatever I want.  Show them your gun, Mr. Leon!”

He only looked at you sternly again, and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s sort of grouchy,” you explained to the amused dinner attendees.  He didn’t react much, still standing there with his gloved hands held in front of him, but you saw a little tightness in his jaw.

Best of all, you flirted with as many suitors as you could get away with in a night, just to bother him.  The tricky thing about a world without aging is men who’ve been around quite some time were still just as eligible for your hand as men closer to your age— you wondered if it would bother him more knowing that one of your father’s wealthy friends who had been alive at least 80 years was doting on you.  Didn’t matter either way: you let them all stand a bit too close, put their hand on your lower back— you laughed too hard at their shitty jokes.  All to make Ray jealous, but when you glanced over your shoulder at him, you could never catch a reaction.

After the guests had left and the staff had begun cleaning, you went back to your room to change.  You’d coyly asked Raymond if he would watch over you during that, too, but he didn’t answer because he knew you were joking.  It’s not like you were ever really serious… but you did want him.  Not just for fun, and not just to prove to your father that there was no use hiring these bodyguards— he was fucking sexy, obviously.  Definitely your favorite so far, and exactly your type… for how much he thought you were trying to tease and tempt him, he was the one driving you a little crazy.

Still, you kept your cool as best you could; you needed to keep control over him, and thankfully with him working for you, that was pretty easy to exert.  (Well, technically he worked for your father, but it was close enough.)

“Oh, Mister Officer,” you called out to him through the door as you sat on your bed, hearing him step closer.

“Yes?” he asked, voice slightly muffled.

“I just need your help with something,” you explained, but he still hesitated.

“Are you decent?”

Damn, he wasn’t that gullible anymore.  “Enough,” you replied, and he sighed before opening your bedroom door.

You were in your bra and panties now— but with your heels and stockings still on, of course; he lost track of his step for a second when he saw you, then frowned at you.  “That’s not what I would consider decent,” he said.

“Well, I need your help and I wasn’t going to put on a turtleneck just for that,” you replied.  “You’ve seen me in my bikini by the pool, anyways…”

And you’d made him apply sunscreen on your back as well; you smirked to yourself at the memory.  “What do you need my help with?” he reminded you of the original topic.

“Well, these shoes are too small for me now,” you said, “I didn’t realize how much I’d grown since I wore them last…”

You hoped he’d find that a little intriguing, as someone who himself hadn’t grown in… you didn’t even know how long.  He obviously never talked about it— for all you knew he could have been alive a hundred years, though he certainly didn’t act like it.  

You lifted a stiletto-clad foot forward towards him.  “Now they’re stuck.  Will you help me take them off?”

He sighed that trademark, frustrated sigh of his, and you fought off a smile.  “You can’t do that yourself?” 

You shook your head.  “I’m not strong enough,” you explained with a shrug.

Clearly not buying it but in no position to accuse you of lying, he knelt down in front of you.  Taking the shoe in his hand, he looked at you with annoyance in his eyes as it slipped off easily.  

“You’re so strong,” you cooed, wiggling your toes inside the pantyhose, then putting your foot down to hold out the other in front of him.  “Now the other one,” you demanded.

He took the shoe off of you, tossing it aside, and you let your foot brush against his thigh as you lowered it down— just long enough to make it not quite believable as an accident.

“Now my stockings,” you continued, and he got up and started to walk away.

“You’ll have to do the rest on your own,” he insisted.

“But who’s gonna help me undress?” you pouted, and he stopped walking halfway to the door, dropping his shoulders a bit.

“I don’t know, how about you ask one of those boys that was sniffing around you all night?” he suggested, and you smiled proudly.  Oh, you noticed that?  

“I can’t,” you sighed, “you know Daddy doesn’t let me have any boys in my room— except you.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “because I’m the one who keeps the boys out of your room.”

“It’s no fair,” you whined.  “It’s so boring up here by myself…”

“Please,” he groaned, finally turning around, “with all these things you have?  You shouldn’t have any trouble being entertained.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, “I shouldn’t— but I do.  There’s only one thing I really wanna do right now…”

You started to slowly and delicately run your fingers up your legs, spreading them a bit.

“But I don’t wanna have to do it alone…” you continued, blinking up at him as you saw his nostril twitch— could this finally be the moment you caught him?

In an instant, he stormed towards you and grabbed you by the neck.  “So fucking spoiled,” he growled, his black leather gloves crinkling softly as you whimpered and held his wrist.  “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?  You think your father didn’t tell me what happened to the last four bodyguards?”

“I— I didn’t fuck them all,” you defended, voice a little thin from the pressure on your throat, “the third quit on his own—”

“Because he knew what would happen if he gave in to you,” Raymond sneered.  “And so do I.  You think I’ll give up on a job like this that easily?”

That was one thing that made Ray different than the others before— they were all professional bodyguards, used to working for the elite class.  Most of them probably already had plenty of time, or could at least keep getting jobs of this caliber to earn a similar keep.  But Timekeepers weren’t especially well compensated, paid daily but only paid just enough to keep going until the next per diem.  He’d probably never had more than a couple days on his clock, and now he was earning a month a week just to babysit you.  That was why your father hired him for this, you finally realized: he’d said before that he simply hoped a lawman would have a little more integrity and not give in to temptation with you, but it was far more than just that.

Raymond let go of your neck and tossed you back onto the bed, but just when you hoped he’d climb on top of you and pin you down, he scoffed and turned away.  “You’re too young, anyways,” he said as he crossed his arms.

“Am not,” you denied.

“Your clock hasn’t even started yet,” he noticed.

“I’ve only got a few more years left,” you frowned, “but I’m still an adult.”

“Then fucking act like one,” he suggested sharply, and left the room with slam of your door.

You sighed, once again left frustrated with another unsuccessful attempt to get him into bed.  But, you smiled, too; because you knew this was a step in the right direction.

~

Your father tried not to travel much, since it was one of the few things that exposed him to the risk of death.  Wouldn't it be absurdly ironic, dying in a plane crash after living for hundreds of years and with nearly a millennium left on his clock?

Still, he didn't get all these years by sitting around in his house, he was a busy professional.  And his work sometimes required him to leave for as long as a few weeks.

He had you come and see him off at the hangar, Officer Leon not far behind as you kissed your father on the cheek and bid him safe travels.  

You loved when he left, it gave you a lot more freedom.  But Raymond didn't know that, he just knew you were a billionaire's youngest daughter left alone in a massive mansion, and you'd already had planned for weeks how you could use that to your advantage.

You knew he was outside your door, you could see the shadow of his boots through the crack between the wood and the plush rug.  Fighting off a little smile, you whimpered softly— but not too soft, he needed to hear it.  The first one didn't seem to work, so you dropped your head and did it again.

He swung open the door a second later, and though he seemed relieved to find you alone and not being kidnapped or something, he still had to ask: "Are you alright?"

You sniffled and wiped at your eye, acting like you were trying to hide your tears as if it all wasn’t a performance in the first place.  “Daddy’s gone away,” you pouted, “and left me all by myself… m’so lonely, Mr. Leon.”

“Officer,” he corrected, but his voice faltered when you looked up at him with big, needy eyes.

“I don’t wanna be all alone,” you whimpered, “I need somebody to take care of me… protect me…”

You rubbed your thighs together as you sat on the bed, toying with the lacy hem of your nightgown.

“Somebody big and strong,” you continued as he crossed his arms, “like you.”

His stare was icier than ever, yet those eyes still could’ve melted you if you let them.

“Will you be my new daddy while he’s gone?” you asked sweetly, biting your lip, and he tensed his jaw as he looked away.

“What do you get out of toying with me?” he asked sharply.

“Fucked, hopefully,” you smiled.  

“You know, I’ve known a lot of women,” he informed you; you had no idea where he was going with this, but you liked how it started.  “Rich, poor— prostitutes, politicians— young, or just young-looking.  But I don’t think I’ve ever met such a brainless, insatiable little whore as you.”

You stood up from the bed, stepping closer to him carefully.  “Really?” you smiled, taking it as a compliment, and that only angered him further.

“What is it that makes you think you can get whatever you want?” he wondered, his blue eyes like daggers as he glared at you. 

“Experience,” you shrugged, reaching up to trace a finger over his lapel, but he batted it away harshly.  “Ooh,” you breathed, “you’re a mean daddy, hm?  The type that believes in lots of discipline?”

He didn’t respond, even when you stepped so close that your body was nearly touching his.

“I can be a good girl,” you promised sweetly, “for you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he snapped.

“Let me prove it, daddy,” you purred, “just give me a chance…”

You leaned in, wondering if he’d let you kiss him— he hadn’t backed away, but he hadn’t relaxed out of his bodyguard posture, either.

“Just make me yours,” you pleaded under your breath, lips nearly brushing against his.

Before you even realized he’d given in, he slammed you back against the wall with a hand around your neck, the other instantly grabbing you between the legs, and you mewled joyfully.  “Fuck,” he snarled, like he was just as frustrated with himself as with you; his gloved hand roughly navigated up under your nightgown and into your panties.  

Two leather-covered fingers slid inside you, and you arched your back up off the wall.  

“Needy whore,” he grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper into you, making you whimper as your knees almost buckled.  “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy,” you moaned happily, though he slapped you across the face hard with his other hand right after you said it, and you yelped as you clutched your cheek.

“I’m not your fucking daddy,” he spat at you.  “Such a goddamn brat— if I was your daddy, you’d have some fucking manners.”

“Teach me,” you begged, “fuck, please— I need to learn.  Teach me right now.”

He let go of you, and pulled his fingers out of you, and stepped back slightly as he shed the gloves and his long coat.  “Get on your fucking knees,” he growled, watching you slide along the wall onto the floor.  

You didn’t need to be told what to do after that, you simply smiled as you reached up to rub the bulge in his pants.  Unbuckling his belt for him, you had to catch your breath when you realized how big he was.  

He smirked when you whimpered slightly while taking it out, stroking him as he got harder in your grip.  “More than you bargained for?” he wondered smugly.

“Nothing a brainless, insatiable little whore can’t handle,” you promised just before leaning forward and taking him into your mouth.  He gasped a little before humming in satisfaction, and you suckled as you swirled your tongue around his head, fitting what you could in your mouth and trying to coat the skin with your spit.

His hand suddenly held onto your hair when you started to bob your head, and he groaned when you choked slightly on the tip of him.  “Fuck,” he whispered, “yeah— like that, baby…”

You moaned around him, not just for show but a reaction to the satisfying weight of him on your tongue— and the slightly salty taste of leaking precum.  Your fingers brushed gently over his balls as you blinked up at him: you were pulling out all the stops, you wanted him to lose his mind over you even more than he already had.

He pushed your hair back, tilting your head further to meet your gaze.  You thought he might speak when he opened his mouth, but you gagged on him again and he just sighed.

Your hand wrapped around the rest of his length that you couldn't reach with your lips, stroking him in time with the way you bobbed your head; and your other hand couldn't help but reach down between your bent legs, pressing against your core— bare, as you'd already thought ahead and forgone panties— and making you hum at the smallest hint of friction.

You were just starting to set a rhythm with it, the bobbing of your head and the stroking of your hand and the way you swirled your tongue… but of course he had to throw you off and shove your head down, making you choke again unexpectedly, as he groaned at the feeling.  “S’what you wanted,” he reminded you, starting to roughly fuck your mouth.  “What you fucking wanted, right, little whore?”

You could only barely nod with him holding your head, and your clit throbbed just from the way he looked down at you with his teeth bared.

“Fuck, just need a cock to choke on,” he growled.  “Only way to shut you up, huh?”

He gave your throat a few more aggressive thrusts before pulling back, and you coughed and wiped your chin as you looked up at him.  “It’s not all I wanted,” you reminded him when you caught your breath, and he smiled at you in a condescending sort of way.

“Right,” he recalled, tilting his head, “you wanted to be fucked.  Poor thing.”

“Please, daddy?” you batted your eyelashes up at him, and he just laughed thinly.

“Nothing’s stopping you, princess,” he replied, holding his hands out, as if to suggest you come and take it.  You couldn’t resist an offer like that.

Standing up and grinning at him, you pushed him back by the shoulders and down onto the bed, straddling his lap.

He smirked up at you; “Really need it that bad, huh?” he mocked as you pulled your nightgown up over your head and tossed it aside quickly.

“Uh huh,” you agreed with a nod, “need you so bad— you’ll let me ride your big cock, right, daddy?  Please?”

But you were already lining him up to your entrance and sinking down, and you both groaned loudly as he filled you.  “God, it’s so wet,” he hissed, watching you gasp as you lowered yourself further.  “You get that wet just from sucking cock?  Fuckin’ slut.”

Your eyes rolled back as the tip of his cock pressed further than you thought possible.  “Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, “you’re so deep…”

“Yeah,” he panted in agreement, “can’t believe that little pussy’s taking all of me…”

You started to grind on him right away, holding onto his shoulders as you rocked your hips desperately.  “Oh my god, oh my god,” you chanted, “it’s s-so good, it feels so good—”

He bit his lip as he watched you, and you loved how it felt to have those steely eyes looking up and down your body as you moved.

You'd been sort of on edge the whole time, sucking him off and all— not to mention that the foreplay with you and Raymond had started, in your mind, months ago when he was first hired.  The satisfaction of finally having him exactly where you wanted him was nearly as good as the physical sensation… but it did feel incredible, the curve of his cock rubbing up against your spot with so much pressure that you shuddered all over.

His hands ran over your body, the strength of them more than apparent even when he was touching you somewhat delicately, and you moaned as his rough fingers punched your nipples.

You shifted from grinding down on him to properly bouncing up and down, arching your back to get the perfect angle as you both groaned.  "Fucking tight," he mumbled his praise.

You held on tighter to his shirt, really wishing you could see him without it, but there was something hot about him still being in his uniform… especially when you were totally naked.  It probably made him think he had more power over you, which was exactly what you wanted him to think.

Moving faster, you felt the pressure building inside you already, pulsing and swelling as you let your head drop forward to look down at him looking jus perfect underneath you.

He grabbed you by the neck, only to be unexpectedly sweet and pull you down into a kiss— but it was still a hungry, dominating kiss, one that made you whine and tense up inside as he tasted all over your tongue and mouth.  And he didn’t let go of your neck, either, in fact he tightened his grip just enough to make you choke out a raspy moan against his lips, which you felt smirk a moment later.  

“So good, daddy,” you mumbled into the last moments of the kiss.  His hands moved down to your body, following your movements, and you pulled back enough to look at his face closely.  “You’re so fucking good, daddy,” you praised again.

He groaned and held your waist tighter, making you hum and smile.  "Little slut," he scolded through his teeth as you moved faster.  “Show daddy how you make yourself come.”

You beamed as he really accepted the title for the first time.  Sitting up higher and bouncing faster, you moaned loudly as you chased your high: shocks of sensation hit inside you, faster and faster the longer you continued.

You grabbed his hands off your hips and pinned them down beside his head, riding him harder while he smirked up at you.  "So desperate," he cooed— but you could hear in his voice that he was close, too.

Whimpering at the feeling, you felt your walls bearing down on him as it nearly hit you— it was sort of difficult to come like this, since you could only move so fast, but the way it was drawn out just made you sure it would build up even stronger and hit you harder.

“Fuck, get off,” he warned, “gonna come.”

You grinned, biting your lip, and kept grinding your hips.

“Get up,” he demanded, but you just tightened your grip on his wrists.  “Fuck, are you—?”

“Shh, m’close,” you scolded, feeling him try to struggle under you— but he was flexing inside you, too, and you knew he couldn’t hold back forever.  He was obviously more than strong enough to fight you off if he really wanted, but it wasn’t about your body overpowering his— it was about you forcing him to give in to his instincts… to temptation.

“I swear to fucking god,” he groaned through his teeth, “if you don’t fucking get off me right now—”

“I’m coming, daddy!” you announced suddenly as you bounced on him even more fervently.  “Oh my god, daddy, m’coming on your big cock!  Yes!”

It felt great, don’t get me wrong, but you were definitely playing it up and giving him a real show as you tossed your head back, screamed out his name, dug your nails into his wrists— you wanted him to be totally helpless to you for just that moment.  “Fuck!” he groaned, and you laughed excitedly as his cock pulsed inside you, heat flooding between your legs and his head falling back onto the mattress with the most gorgeous fucked-out look on his face.  

“Oh fuck, come in me, daddy,” you demanded, rocking your hips and squeezing him tight for every drop, “wanna be so fucking full—”

He groaned through his teeth as it all started to die down a bit, scrunching his face up for a second before relaxing under you again; you felt his cock pump just a few more times, weaker than before, and you hummed proudly.

“God— oh my god—” he panted out, opening his eyes wide as he started to catch his breath, looking at you like you were crazy.  You just laughed and bit your lip as you finally stopped moving.  “What the fuck did you just do?” he snapped, but he still whimpered a bit when you deliberately clenched your walls around him.

“Sorry,” you shrugged, “I just really needed some come inside me— been really in the mood to get bred lately—”

You giggled as he grabbed you and threw you down onto the bed, turning you both over as he held your arms tight and pulled out— he blinked quickly, his lips slack and still a little stained from your pink gloss, as he watched his come leak out of your pussy.  “Fuck,” he snarled, clearly trying to use his anger and panic to hide how much it turned him on.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you realize what fucking happens if you get—?”

“Pregnant?” you finished for him, licking your lips excitedly.  “Doesn’t it sound so hot though?  You knocking me up, getting me all nice and full with your baby, ‘cause I’m so young and fertile— and then you can be a real daddy—”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he spat, sitting back at little on the bed and running his hands over his face in dismay.  “You’re— oh god— I can’t believe this is happening—”

“Calm down, grumpypants,” you scolded with a smile as you sat up and looked at him closer.  “I’m on the pill, haven’t missed one in years.”

Ray’s terrified expression fell into relief and frustration simultaneously.  “Fucking— you could’ve told me that before,” he frowned, dropping his hands to his sides.

“But then I would’ve missed out on your little meltdown,” you laughed proudly.  “You looked cute like that, panicking and thinking you really got me pregnant.”

He watched you get up out of the bed and snag your silk robe from off of a hook on the wall, slipping it on as you walked to the bathroom.  You looked over your shoulder at him as you turned the door’s golden handle, smirking when you saw the dumbfounded look on his face.

“I think I could use a bath,” you explained, “care to join me, big boy?”

The look on his face was that sort of incredulous denial— like he couldn’t believe that you’d ask him that, expecting him to ever want to be near you again after pulling that stunt.  “Are you serious?!” he choked.

“Of course,” you laughed, “I’m not in a joking mood anymore.  Are you coming or not?”

He laughed in bewilderment and looked around for a moment, before sighing in relent.  “Yeah, I am,” he admitted, sliding off the bed to come join you.  You smirked to yourself; these boys are simply too easy.

[springseasonie]

Auralism Pt4 | PJS + ZCL (M)

Jisung x reader x Chenle

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Immediately after your interesting introduction to your long time favorite voice actor, you walk to the back of your place of employment and see someone you weren't expecting.

Warming: sexual content, dom Jisung, sub Chenle, switch-ish reader, voyeurism, a little gay tension ???

Word count: 4,8k

A/N: had to write this like 3 times to finish it then I deleted it immediately after finishing on accident but then we got the doc back 🎉🎉 trials and tribulations my friends but it's finally done!! Very sorry for making promises I couldn't keep but I hope you all like it

Something told you to check the back room for your charger but you didn't expect to see the man you just said bye to 5 minutes ago with his dick in his hands. It's like time froze, the way you and Chenle stared at each other in that room. His eyes wide and your hand gripping the door knob. It was like a silent war being fought. Who would say something first, who would make the first move. Chenle glanced at your feet while watching you stare at the cameras. There was one pointing directly at the back of the counter like always.

It shouldn't have taken you this long to put two and two together, but it did and now alarms are going good in your head. You turned your head, looking away from him for a split second, but in that second, Chenle stood up and grabbed you. Your body instantly froze, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as the door slammed behind you, leaving you in the room with him.

“I know this looks bad but-”

“Looks bad,” you said, brows scrunched in confusion. “Your dick is out.”

Chenle looked down, realizing he was still in a very compromising position. Quickly, he turned and fixed himself, face as pale as ever. He's ever been so embarrassed in his life. Chenle wouldn't say he's the best at bidding his perverted thoughts, but he does a damn good job. But this time, he has no idea how he let himself slip up.

“Were you watching me?” You already knew the answer to the question, mouth becoming dry with each second that passed.

Chenle turned around, empty eyes staring at your bizzare expression. He wanted to say something badly, but he couldn't help himself but let his mind wander under your gaze of scrutiny. The fiery look in your eyes made him hot, the anger in your voice made him sweat.

“I-I was,” he admitted.

You gulped, taking deep breaths to try and stop yourself from becoming angrier than you already were. You never took him to be that kind of person but looks can clearly be deceiving. You and Chenle have always kept things on a very normal note, friendly conversation and brief contact outside of work, so to you, all of this was completely left field. But to him, he would think about it all the time. Chenle is good at hiding his feelings. He can keep it cordial with you if need be, playing the character of the nice reliable male coworker. But once he's clocked out, all he can think of is your pretty lips, the leggings you wear to work, the way you talk. He's obsessed with you and there's only one way to get you off his mind.

“That's a really fucked up thing to do,” you said, voice raising a bit. “That's a creep thing to do. You're a fucking creep.” For a moment, Jisung's presence in the building was completely forgotten. The only thing you could do is focus on your anger, trying to bite your tongue in the best way possible. A shiver shot up your spine watching him stare at your lips, the frown on your mouth not deterring him from his sinful thoughts. For some reason you kind of liked it.

“I'm really sorry,” he said. “I just…I don't know.”

“You're joking right? Instead of actually talking to me you watch me like a fucking weirdo.”

Your words travel right to his dick, degrading giving him a sense of gratification. The annoyance and anger you have for the current situation blinds the clear lustful expression on the man's face. Chenle can't speak knowing he has absolutely no rebuttal to anything you're saying, nodding at every word that comes out of your mouth.

“Fucking sick perverted freak,” you groan, reaching for your jacket and bag. You picked it up swiftly, leaving Chenle to stare at you with longing in his eyes.

Opening the door, you stared at your feet, not seeing the figure that stood in front of you, walking right into him.

“Did I scare you?” Jisung's deep voice snapped your chin up, looking at him with wide eyes after completely forgetting about him. Chenle stood and watched, a hint of jealousy starting to brew in him but also curiosity. He watched you fuck him on camera but would it be different in front of him? Would you be more shy and timid or would you turn it up a notch? Chenle wouldn't describe himself as a voyeur, but he's tempted to take on that label full time.

Jisung is an attractive guy, tall, deep voice, nice lips. Of course you're into him, he's practically perfect. Chenle doesn't think he's inferior to him, just a little different. Regardless, you're still attracted to him so it doesn't matter who you have sex with, he'll still have a chance.

“I'm sorry I forgot you were out there,” you said in a panic, only for Jisung to shrug his shoulders.

“Well I see that,” he says. He looks up from you, facing the man who stood across the room. “And who is this?”

Jisung eyes him closely, eyes moving up and down to size him up. You look at him nervously, gulping at the unwanted interaction. You didn't want this to end your chances of ever seeing him again, wanting for Chenle to go home as quickly as possible. But every time you looked at him he was hoping he didn't have to leave. He stood there silent as he allowed his hard on to grow more and more slowly. Was he thinking about fucking you and Jisung watches or the other around? Or was he thinking about Jisung and himself fucking you at the same time?

“Chenle.” You answer. “He was…”

“Watching us?” Jisung looks at you, brow raised when your brows furrow.

“I-I was not-”

“Don't lie,” Jisung said. Deep voice filled the room. “you're a creep.” Chenle watched Jisung sneak his hand around your waist, pulling you to his body. He pressed your hips against his groin, burying his face in your neck. A smirk slid across his face watching Chenle’s eyes widen at the sight, staring at Jisung's hands sliding down your hips and between your legs.

Chenle takes the scene in, your small gasp tickling his ears as he watches the man rub you between your leggings. He can feel the blood moving right to his dick making it harder and harder. He watches Jisung take his other hand off your hip and place it on your neck, holding your jaw firmly.

“Look at him Y/N, he looks like he's gonna explode,” Jisung says in your ear.

You look at Chenle whose cheeks are like tomatoes. Mouth slightly open, lips dry as he watches you get felt up steps away from him. He wants to touch you too, to feel you, hear you. You were beginning to enjoy this, Jisung touching you like he owned you and Chenle being forced to watch like a sad puppy. Jisung rubbed your clothes clit, smirking as you let out soft moans. 

“You're so pretty. Right Chenle? Isn't she pretty?” 

He gulped, breath hitching when the younger male suddenly turned his attention to him. “Y-yes of course.” 

“Prove it.” 

Chenle gave him a blank stare. “W-what?” 

“Show her how pretty you think she is.”

Chenle watches Jisung reach into your pants, your hands wrapped around his wrist as he begins to toy with your body, moans pouring from your lips. Mindlessly, Chenle's hands reach into his own as well, wrapping his palm around his cock, pumping it slowly.

“Fuck,” you whine softly, pushing your body against Jisung's hand more. Your eyes were closed, but there was no doubt Chenle's eyes were on you. Jisung kissed your forehead, circling his fingers in your soaked cunt while you grind, a scene that played in Chenle's mind for a long time. 

The male across the room kept pumping himself as slow as possible, not wanting to cum too fast from watching you. “Shit,” he mumbled.

“Tell her what you like about her,” Jisung ordered, blinking slowly at the man in front of him. 

“I..uh..” he could barely think straight. All he could think about was pushing the guy away and taking you right there. Feeling your tight pretty pussy around him, making you scream his name. “I like her eyes..”

Jisung scoffed, his gaze on you permanent as he slowly pushed two fingers into your wet hole. 

“J-Jisung, fuck,” you whines softly, knees feeling like jelly when he begins to move them in you. 

“I know baby, I know,” he mumbles. 

Chenle hadn't realized how fast he was pulling himself, hand constantly moving like it had a mind of its own. His heavy breathing was heard all over the room, so much so it caught your attention. You opened your eyes, staring right at him. His flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, pretty lips. You're loving this more and more as the seconds go by, wanting to torture him a little bit more. 

“Her eyes can't be the only thing you like.” 

Chenle opens his mouth, but can barely focus with the way you're grinding on Jisung's fingers, desperate for more as you maintain eye contact with him. “I-I like her lips. The way she says my name. I like her..fuck..her nice ass..” 

Your lips curve into a smirk hearing him speak, begging him to keep speaking. 

“Prettiest voice, prettiest moans..” 

Chenle is breathless at this point, mouth dry watching you bite your lip, furrowing your brows at the combination of Jisung's fingers and Chenle's praise. The sweat glistening on your forehead under the dim lighting made you even prettier. The boy's soft pants were turning into moans, hand quickly pumping himself as Jisung speeds up his fingers inside of you.

“Ji, oh fuck,” you whimpered, legs clamping around his hand.

“Gonna come for me, hm? Cum all over yourself like a dirty little slut?” 

He watches you, lips between his teeth as you nod fast, not daring to tear your eyes from him. His fingers continue pounding into your sloppy wet hole, the sound of your pussy filling the room. Your eyes roll back, pressure building in your stomach faster and faster. Your walls are getting tighter and tighter around his fingers, mouth open as you moan over and over again. 

“I-Im cumming, fuck Jisung,” you moan, head falling on his shoulder, body shaking at the feeling. Your cream all over his hand, hips pushing on his fingers more and more as you reached your high. 

The both of you completely forgot about the other body across the room, lost in each other's touch and feeling. Chenle didn't even realize he came until he removed his hand from his pants, the sticky liquid all over his hand making him cringe. He's never been in a situation like this before, watching someone have sex right in front of him, being caught watching someone. It's a turn on, a sensation he never knew existed. 

“Chenle,” Jisung stated, “get on your knees.”

“W-what?” 

“Get down.” 

Chenle felt his stomach erupt in nerves, carefully falling to his knees on the other side of the room. He watches you walk up to him carefully, the prettiest glow in your skin that he's ever seen. The man is silent as he watches you undress in front of him, shoes go first, your leggings come down painfully slow. He needed you so badly he could practically taste you already, already seeing how much you came through your panties.

“You don't get to touch her till I say so,” Jisung says, coming behind you placing his hands on your hips. 

Chenle gulped, still watching you from his lashes. You hadn't said a word, allowing Jisung to take the lead on the entire situation and for some reason that scared him. 

“What do you want from her right now?” 

Chenle gazed at you, a dreamy expression in his eyes while watching your hand trail done to your panties. “I want to taste her.” 

“I'll let you if you apologize,” you respond, a shaky breath falling from your lips when your finger grazes your swollen clit. 

“I-Im sorry.” 

“For?”

The man looked like a puppy below you, brows knit, faint whines coming from him. If he had a tail, it would be wagging off the charts. His hands are grabbing at his pants, his hard on so clearly visible. He's nervous, not sure what to say and it's making him sweat but he has to say something. 

“For…uh…”

“For being a creep,” you finish, tone a bit stern. He nods, making you raise your brow slightly. “Say it.” 

“I'm sorry for being a creep.” 

“And?”

He gulps. The back and forth is beginning to frustrate him, just wanting to move your ruined panties to the side and give you what you've been dying for. But he knows he needs to do whatever you ask. After all, he is in the wrong. 

“And watching you in secret.” 

“Good boy,” you mumbled with a soft smile. Jisung rubbed circles in your hips, watching you pull your soaked underwear to the side. Chenle didn't wait for a single second before letting his mouth attach to your core. He ate you like a starved man, sucking and licking any part of you he could. Chenle's sweaty palms grabbed your legs, squeezing your thighs as if they were stress balls. 

“Fuck he's really going at you baby,” Jisung's raspy voice spoke in your ear, hands slipping under your shirt massaging your breasts. Jisung kisses your neck softly and slowly, grinding his clothed cock on your ass. 

“Fuck Chenle,” you whimper softly. He sucks your clit nice and hard, slurping noises filling the room. “Just like that.” 

He looks at you through his lashes, big brown eyes staring at you for approval as he flicks his tongue on your sensitive bud. Chenle keeps going, unable to hold back making you begin to shiver. Chenle feels your legs getting weak, but the other male behind you holds you up. He starts to groan, feeling you grind on his mouth, wanting to feel more of him. Chenle sticks his tongue out, allowing you to grind on his face more. 

“You look so pretty, baby. Keep fucking his face, just like that,” Jisung whispers in your ear, instantly giving you butterflies. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, grabbing Chenle's hair pulling him closer to you. He flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud faster, his groans turning you on more and more. He sucks your clit hard, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. “Shit.. you're such a good boy..” 

“Are you gonna cum in his mouth,” Jisung whispers. 

You nod, moans getting louder and louder by the second. Your grip on his hair got stronger, making the boy whine in pain and pleasure. You could feel him melt in your hands when you came, legs trembling when his tongue lapped up your juices, eyes never breaking from your pretty face. 

But before Chenle could get too carried away, Jisung pulls your hand off his head, pulling his face from your legs. He was a mess, his hair disheveled, lips pink and plump, face wet with your cum. He's never been this desperate for a girl in his life, but you bring it out in him in the most embarrassing way possible. 

“You had your fun,” Jisung mumbled, pulling your body from the man on the ground. “Now I'll have mine, and you're gonna stay there and watch.” 

Without a word of protest, the man pulled you to the small couch that was on the wall behind you, plopping into it. He watches you, eyes never leaving your body as you climb on top of him. You hadn't had sex in ages, the sheer anticipation of feeling him inside you sending you off your rocker. The location of the sinful act didn't even cross your mind, your place of employment now feeling like a second home in a way. 

Chenle almost immediately took his cock from his pants, pumping it to the sight of you on top of the other man, watching you grind and kiss him. He couldn't see your face, but he didn't need to, not when your ass was perfectly fine. His eyes traced the lines of your back, hand squeezing his shaft as he wished it was himself you were on top of. 

Jisung kisses you in the sloppiest way possible. Tongue and saliva everywhere, his hands all over your body. You put your hands on his shoulders, lips still locked to each other's as you feel his hands rubbing your thighs, snaking to your ass. His big hands squeeze you, pushing you on his hard cock for more stimulation. 

“I wanna sit on your cock,” you mumble on his lips, peppering kisses on his jawline. 

Jisung says nothing, just reaches down into his shorts, pulling out his rock hard cock. You straddled his lap, knees sinking into either side of him. The male underneath you, pulls your panties to the side, pressing his tip into you. From how much you struggled to get him into your mouth, you knew getting him inside you was going to be a challenge. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, brows knitting when you felt a slight stretch. 

“You can do it baby.” Jisung's breathe hitches the moment he feels your walls engulf his tip, squeezing around him him. It was taking everything in him not to just ram into you at the moment. His head falls back, your eyes still on his face. Chenle watched you, eyes burning into your back as he watched you grind on the man, taking in every inch of your body in. 

With every move you made, Chenle matched in his hands, stroking himself as you grind slowly, speeding up when you sped up. Your moans made him shiver, groaning softly as he squeezed himself in his palms. Chenle nearly came when you looked over your shoulder, staring right at him as you moved the scene feeling like it came right out a porno. 

Jisung held onto your hips, fingertips pressing into your sides tight. He couldn't stop thinking about how you probably dreamt of this moment, thought about fucking him all the time, riding him till you cried. He could tell by your face that you were completely lost in the movements. So wet, he could slip out of you at any time. “Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he groaned, brows furrowed. 

Jisung smirked, eyes looking over your shoulder to see the other man jerking himself at an embarrassingly fast pace watching you ride him. Jisung held your hips tight, taking in your whimpering as you began to move faster. “Fuck, so big,” you whine, holding his shoulders tight. Your body shivers in his hands, hot skin making his palms sweat.

The sounds from your lips almost sent Chenle into overdrive, your sweet soft voice crying out and begging for more making him harder and harder. Chenle shivered when his fingertips dragged over his sensitive tip, the action making his hips buck into his hand. All he could do was imagine it was your tight pussy around his throbbing cock, imagine you were riding the life out of him. Chenle watches the way Jisung digs his fingers into your flesh, drinking every indent the man makes in your skin. He just wants to touch you, fuck you, make you feel good, but you won't let him. He doesn't mind, at least you didn't smack him and kick him out. 

Jisung slides his hands to your ass, squeezing tight as he begins to groan softly. “Just like that baby girl,” he said, a raspy voice filling your ears. “You wanna cum on my cock?” 

“Y-yes..” A gasp flies out your lips when Jisung lifts  you off his lap, laying you down on the couch. The man threw your leg in the air, sitting it on his shoulder as he stuffed his cock back inside you. You could barely catch your breath when he began drilling into you, your moans turning into whines and cries of pleasure all while lying there staring at Chenle who was still watching in awe. 

Chenle pumped his cock faster, watching the way your chest rose as you breathed. Your face fell on the dirty fabric, eyes fluttering open to look directly into his. A smile pulled your lips as you reached your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit as you watched him. Seeing him absolutely lost in you, helpless and desperate, wanting to feel you and be inside you, made you feel powerful. Chenle's moans were music to your ears, Jisung's hands all over your body, your senses heightened. 

“Fuck..I'm gonna cum,” you moaned breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” Chenle, sucking in his breath fast when he started to feel himself getting close. You watched him watch you moan uncontrollably, your lust taking over your senses seeing how fucked out he already was with just his hand. 

“Chenle,” you whimper, making the boy's eyes go wide. “Chenle, I'm so fucking close.”

Jisung didn't bat an eyelash, smirking as he continued to fuck the life out of you. His lip slipped between his teeth watching you rub your sensitive clit faster, pounding into you harder. “That's my girl,” he grunted. “Keep playing with yourself, cum all over me.” 

Your fingers kept rubbing, eye contact never breaking with Chenle while Jisung kept going as if he wasn't even there. The teary look on your face sent the man into overdrive, just that one look making him spill out all over his hand with a loud moan. Chenle couldn’t bear to look away from you, so pretty and sweaty, eyes wet with lust and desire. He's pathetic and he knows it, but if it makes you happy he'll live with it.

Jisung's grip on your leg tightens, his climax closer and closer. You can recognize those moans and grunts from anywhere, knowing he was about to cum. 

“Cum Jisung, cum in me,” you whimpered, mascara covering your cheeks. “Shit, shit..” Your orgasm hit you like a car, your whimpers turning into loud cries, body jerking underneath the man on top of you. Jisung still continued to pound into you, practically fucking the breath out of your body. With every gasp that left your lips, he went harder. Your trembling hands reached up, grabbing at his chest as you whined loudly. 

“I'm almost there, baby girl..” you were so tight around him, he was surprised he could even move. Jisung pounded into you until he came deep inside you, holding his breath as he released inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. 

A calm silence fell over the room, nothing but breathing bouncing off the walls and into your ears. You're hot, sweaty and completely delirious to the events that have just taken place within the past 30 minutes. Having sex with your favorite voice actor in front of your hot perverted coworker was not in your plans for the night, but you definitely cannot complain. 

“I can cross that off my bucket list,” Jisung chuckled, breaking the silence. “Jesus, that was fucking crazy..” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. But that was the only thing you could say. You couldn't even look at Jisung, let alone Chenle who still sat on the floor in front of you two. That's when you and Jisung hear shuffling, turning your heads to look at the man standing up in a hurry, shoving his now flaccid cock back into his pants. 

“I-I uh… I have to go.” Chenle grabbed his things hastily, bolting for the door without sparing either of you a second glance. 

Before you protest, the door slams, leaving you and Jisung alone. You look up at the man, mouth open in shock. 

“Wasn't that fun,” he says, beaming a tired smile at you. Jisung pulls out, his cum slowly dripping out of you onto the black couch. 

“That was…something else.” You're still shell shocked, the events not yet setting in. Jisung shuffles from between your legs, fixing up his pants and clothes. That's when you notice just how naked you actually were. “Fuck,” you mumbled. 

Putting your clothes back on, your legs felt sore from holding them in position for too long. A small hiss left your lips, making Jisung chuckle softly. “I did a bit much, didn't I,” he questioned. 

“Nothing I didn't like.” 

You stand up, slipping your shoes on while he towers over you, watching you silently with a smirk on his face. “Give me your number.” 

Your eyebrows shoot to your forehead, somewhat confused and surprised at his request. “My number?”

“Did you think I was gonna fuck you and never speak to you again? Especially when you're such a devoted fan?”

There it goes, your stomach erupting into butterflies like earlier. “You always know the right things to say,” you laugh. You're trying to keep it together, but unfortunately you're easy to read. 

“So, can I have it?” He licks his lips, eyeing you down like he's going to devour you. 

You gulp, nodding at his request. 

“Good girl. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

~

Walking into work the next day made your head rattle. All you could focus on were the sinful acts that took place behind that very counter your coworker Lily stood. You try to keep it normal, saying hi to everyone before walking into the back. 

Your body tenses when you see Chenle putting his things in his locker, the man turning around hearing your footsteps. You were expecting him to ice you out, but he gave you a small smile, nodding his head at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, completely monotone. 

“Hey..” you put your things in your locker, gulping as he stood there, trying to not make it obvious that he was staring at you. But the awkward energy was eating away at your insides so you had to say something. “About yesterday I-”

“I'm sorry I stormed out. I was completely overwhelmed and embarrassed,” he interrupted. 

Your brows scrunch, head cocked to the side in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why were you-”

“I shouldn't have watched you like that. I'm sorry,” he admitted, avoiding eye contact. 

Your expression was blank, trying to compute his words. “Chenle, I don't care about any of that.” 

“Oh…”

“I wanted to tell you that yesterday was fun. I had fun and I hope you did too,” you said looking up at him sheepishly. “I hope this doesn't make things awkward between us.”

“I-it’s not awkward!” 

“Are you sure?? It seems awkward now,” you chuckle. 

Chenle takes a deep breath, before turning to you, his fingers toying with the sleeve of his jacket. “Listen, I really like you and yesterday was… an enigma. I want to get to know you on more of a personal note.” 

“Yesterday was personal.”

Chenle sighed, closing his eyes to try and rephrase his words. You stood there watching him struggle in amusement as he faced the ground. “Not personal in that way, personal in less of a coworker way,” he says. “A friendly way.” 

The reality of having options weighs on you all of sudden. You're very much attracted to both Jisung and Chenle. Chenle is cute, and wants to know you on more than a sexual level. Jisung has been your wet dream for years and seems like a pretty cool guy, not to mention the sexual chemistry with both of them is out of this world. There's no way they'd let you have your cake and eat it too. But you wouldn't know unless you try. 

You took a deep breath before speaking, biting your tongue as you stared at him through your lashes. “Jisung and I are hanging out later if you want to come,” you say quietly. 

“Oh,” he says. Chenle's mouth goes dry looking at your face. “I-I could hang out with you guys.” 

“Only if you want to,” you add. 

“I-I want to.” 

“Are you sure?” You sense a bit of doubt in his answer but that feeling immediately goes away when you watch his jaw clench and his eyes harden. 

He nods, his staring only intensifying as the clatter in the cafe plays in your ears as back noise. He wants you so badly at the moment, to just shove you in the lockers and show you a good time, but he won't and he can't, so for now all he can do is agree to hang out with you. 

“Then um.. I'll see you later.” Your body is hot as you scurry away from the man, his unintentional hungry gaze making you feel small, but you liked it. 

“Yeah, bye.” His words faded out as the door shut behind you, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts and his hard on. Chenle would never describe himself as a cuck but after the events that transpired the night before, watching the girl who isn't his girl but still his girl gets fucked by a handsome man wasn't all that bad. 

And he can't wait to do it again. 

[regencyrosalie]

Could you write some Anthony bridgerton x wife reader angst with a happy ending

i love a happy ending. thank u for the req! here’s husband!anthony and his four braincells fighting for his life

To say Anthony has been stressed would be an understatement. The sheer amount of paperwork he’s had to do within the past week would put any regular man into an early grave. Not to mention that Hyacinth has attracted enough suitors since her debut to keep him busy and on edge every time there’s calling hours.

His wife has been trying her best to help, even organizing his papers when he’s busy, to which he would thank her profusely. She’s also been busy with the social season, arranging dinners and parties and visits to the modiste.

They never fight. (At least not since they got engaged). Which was why Anthony was so out of his element when he accidentally snapped at her one evening.

“Dear, would you like me to bring you a cup-“ she opened the door to the study, clad in her night-things.

“Could you spare me your rambling for once in your life?” he chastised, trying to add costs on paper with his exhausted mind.

She just stared at him for a moment, and he tensed, before backpedaling.

“Darling, I did not-“

But she had already left, and shut the door behind her, teary eyed and angry. He had never spoken to her in such a way, especially when all she was trying to do was assist him and bring him tea.

Anthony followed her out instantly, “My love,” he called desperately, but the hallway was empty, and she was nowhere to be seen. He raced down the corridor to their bedchamber, but it was empty. It did not even register until then that she may be in her own bedchamber.

And that she was, she was sat on her bed, weeping silently. She secretly prayed that he would find her, and muster up a tolerable apology because she could not bear to sleep without him. The sheets she was perched on had very likely not been changed since before she arrived at Bridgerton house, as she never spent more than five minutes in her own room each week. Much to her dismay, and the dismay of her pride, she was spiraling at his words. For how long had he believed her to be rambling? Was her presence so bothersome?

There was a knock on the door, like an answer from the divine.

“My love, are you there?” Anthony’s voice cut through the mahogany door.

“No,” she called back, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She wanted him to know she was there, but also to prove a point. Mostly to watch him suffer.

There was a sigh of relief as he found her, and he tried the door handle, to no avail.

“Please, darling. I am dreadfully sorry. I did not mean it. I was foolish. Please do not shut me out,” he pleaded from the other side of the door.

She did not make any reply, but she stood from the bed, crossing her arms over her chest, as if she knew she would be opening the door soon.

“My love,” he called, trying the door again “please. I love you. I cannot go through the night without you, you know I cannot. I will beg, if that is what you wish. I cannot be parted from you.”

She debated for a moment, and stayed silent, pacing around the room.

“What are you doing?” he practically whined through the door.

“Sparing you.”

He groaned. “No, love, please. That is the last thing I want. I did not mean it. You must know I did not. I have just been so busy, it has taken a toll on me. I did not mean to say such things to you, dearest. You know I do not feel so.”

That soothed her slightly, and she stopped in front of the door.

He heard her get closer, and he continued his begging. “Please, my love. I do not wish for you to spare me from anything except your contempt. I relish in your conversation, I crave it. Do not do this to me. I cannot bear it. I need you desperately. You know I do. I adore you. I adore everything you do, everything you are. I love you so dearly I feel as if it may kill me at times. And it very well might if you do not open this door.”

A smile tugged at her lips as he pleaded with her, and she wiped her eyes before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Anthony looked a mess, his cravat was half-tied, his hair was disheveled, as he had probably been running his hands through it incessantly, and his eyes were glassy and pleading.

She almost giggled.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he said incredulously, with a hint of a smile.

“Perhaps a bit,” she replied, letting him pull her into his arms.

“You evil woman,” he chuckled softly, before pulling back to look at her face, frowning at her puffy eyes, “I am so sorry. Words cannot express my regret. I did not mean to cause you pain. I was foolish.”

“Yes, you were. But I forgive you,” she replied.

“Thank you, my love. I do not deserve your kindness.”

She kissed his cheek. “You do not need to earn my kindness. I know it has been tiring, with all of the work. But it is not my fault.”

“I know it is not. Of course, it is not. You give me nothing but strength. I adore you. I love you.” he murmured into her hair.

“I love you,” she replied softly, with a hint of amusement.

“Let me show you,” he mumbled, lifting her off the ground, “let me show you how much.”

She giggled.

“Anthony Bridgerton you are insatiable.”

[hederasgarden]

Stand By Me - Part 3

Summary: When a local ranch hand’s attention evolves into something more sinister, Rhett Abbott becomes an unlikely source of comfort and protection for you. Pairing: Rhett Abbott x F!Reader Word Count: 4.8K Rating: Mature, future chapters will be explicit and 18+ only. Stalking, anxiety, and Rhett being protective. Future chapters will include some violence. No spoilers for Outer Range. A/N: Welp, here we are a year later. 😬 Sorry it has taken me so long to update. I cannot thank my beta N, @mayhem24-7forever and @whatblogisthis216 enough for their help and support putting this together. Thank you @callsignhurricane for the absolutely gorgeous header.

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

Masterlist | Lewis Pullman Characters Masterlist

"I see you're in with the Abbotts now," your boss remarks, watching Rhett climb into his truck. "Got a phone call from Cecilia this morning about you not closing up by yourself anymore. That woman has a real way about her, all polite-like when she's handing you your ass." 

“Mr. Anderson,” you start, rushing to explain but he waves you off. 

“She was right, of course. I know you got that, er- fella who hangs around too much.”

“My stalker?” You question, your tone harsher than you intend. He looks down at you, surprised. There’s an apology on the tip of your tongue but you resist, meeting his brown eyes. Maybe it’s knowing you had Rhett and Cecilia on your side, or maybe some leftover frustration from the Sheriff. Either way, you don't back down from your statement. 

“I suppose he could be,” Mr. Anderson agrees. “Anyhow, I’ve got Johnny set to close from now on. You go on and tell that to Cecilia now. One dressing down from that woman is enough.”

“I’ll let her know.” 

He nods, patting your shoulder briefly before disappearing into the back office. You exhale and look back out to the empty street. It’s stupid to miss Rhett but a small part of you does. You’re safe in the store; there’s no need to have him here with you. He has a life of his own and a ranch to help run. 

“Was that Rhett Abbott?”

You turn to face the owner of the voice, finding your coworker Sandra watching you excitedly. She’s got that glint in her eye, the one that means she’s not going to let this go easily. Wabang didn’t have a town gossip, but if they did, everyone knows she’d happily take the job. In high school, she was in everyone’s business, spreading rumors and ferreting out information. She never looked twice at you back then, you were too boring and quiet. 

“It was. He just gave me a lift. Not a big deal,” you promise her.

“Uh, nope," she says, popping the p and stopping you with a hand on your arm. "We’re not going to breeze past the fact that you left your car here last night and now the manwhore of Wabang is dropping you off. Spill," she demands.

"We're not…," you start, an automatic denial falling from your lips before you can stop it. She gives you an incredulous look and you stammer out an answer. "It's not a big deal. We're, um, dating," you explain.

"Rhett Abbott doesn't 'date'," she tells you, eyes narrowed. "He has sex with whatever buckle bunny catches his eye.”

“He’s not like that,” you argue, defensive at the way she speaks about him. You know Rhett’s reputation, pretty much everyone does, but you saw a different side of him last night and this morning. You know there’s something more under that charming smile. He listened when no one else did and that means something to you. 

“Honey, please,” she says dismissively. “That boy is nothing but trouble and trash. You best stay away from him."

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you tell her, voice warbling with emotion. “He’s not like everyone says.”

Sandra’s perfectly plucked brows disappear into her hairline. “Alright, alright,” she concedes, hands held up. “Just be careful. He might not stick around after he gets what he wants from you.”

“He’s stuck around the last two months just fine,” you fire back, only realizing after the words are out that you and Rhett never talked about a timeline. 

“Really?” Sandra says, leaning in closer enough for you to catch the fruity scent of the gum she smacks noisily. “That certainty explains why he hasn’t been hanging around the Handsome Gambler lately. I just thought maybe he was getting serious about bull riding or Royal had him on a short leash after the last fight.” She leans back, looking contemplative. “Well, that was some exciting gossip for a Friday morning.”

“Please don’t spread this around,” you ask her, knowing full well she would. Although the idea of people talking about your personal life made your skin crawl, you knew if Rhett were here he’d say it was good. The more it spread, the more likely your stalker would learn of it and back off. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” she promises you, crossing her fingers and winking. 

Sandra spends the rest of your time together on her phone, chewing on the endless supply of gum she keeps next to the register. You’re normally not a self involved person but you’re fairly certain she’s texting about you and Rhett. During lunch, you send him a text of your own about your conversation with Sandra. He responds immediately with a thumbs up emoji which doesn’t help your anxiety. What if he was mad? What if he was with another girl at that time and you just screwed up this whole story?

You spend your shift distracted, overthinking what you told Sandra enough that you keep losing track of the inventory you’re working on. Eventually you give up and volunteer to work the till. An unexpectedly busy afternoon keeps your focus on the task at hand and you don’t even notice it’s 5 p.m. until you look up and find Rhett in line for your register, a shopping basket in hand. 

He steps up to the counter and smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you return, feeling unexpectedly shy. You stare at him long enough that he clears his throat and nudges the basket towards you.

“You gonna check me out?” he asks, his tone playful. 

Beside you, Sandra scoffs. When you spare her a glance, you find her watching Rhett. His attention, though, is focused on you. 

“What’s all this?” You question, taking out the deadbolt kit and some window locks.

“For your apartment. When I was there last night I saw they could use an update.”

“Rhett…” you trail off, embarrassed. 

He seems to sense your emotions and leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “I think this is the part where you ask me, cash or card,” he whispers. 

“Will that be cash or card?” You ask, thankful for how easily he dispels your discomfort.

After you’ve finished checking him out, you clock out and let him walk you to his truck with an arm around your shoulder.  Once you reach your apartment he pulls out a tool bag from the bed of the truck and says he’ll install the new deadbolt while you get ready. A part of you wants to protest or offer to pay him for the supplies, while another is too embarrassed to draw attention to what he’s doing for you, so instead you say nothing and disappear into your room.

“Pretty sure they’re doing line dancing tonight,” Rhett calls out in between the sounds of the power drill. “You got some boots you can wear?”

“Uh…I think so," you half yell back, staring at the contents of your closet. 

You have to get on your hands and knees and pull aside a few boxes to find a pair of brown boots. The last time you wore them was for high school graduation, back when your grandfather had been alive. You trace the delicate lines of embroidery around the calf, pale pink and periwinkle flowers connected by green vines. There hadn’t been a reason to wear them since, all you did was go to work and come home. 

Tonight seems as good as any and you stand to finish getting dressed. The sundress and jean jacket are a little dated but they’re comfortable and look nice enough. Once you’ve managed to fix your hair and makeup, you return to the living room to find Rhett replacing the old window locks.

The creak in the floor draws his attention to you briefly before his eyes return to the window. A second later they’re back on you. He blinks and stands, clearing his throat. 

“I think I’m ready," you announce. 

“You, ah, look real nice,” he tells you, nodding. “I like the flowers.” 

“Thanks. You look nice too,” you add, touching your neck self-consciously when he doesn’t immediately speak again but keeps watching you.

“Well…we should probably get going then.”

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Rhett gather up his tools. “Thanks again for installing that stuff.” 

Rhett nods. “I’ll finish up with the other windows tomorrow.”

The drive to the bar is quiet. Rhett’s fingers drum on the steering wheel as you wait at the stoplight. You cycle through potential conversation openers but discard them all. Nothing feels right, and you realize that the sour pit in your stomach only grows the closer you get to the Handsome Gambler. 

Would he be there tonight you wondered? Just the thought of seeing him is enough to make your breath come quickly and your hands tremble. You exhale and close your eyes, trying to get yourself together. Rhett is here. 

When the engine cuts out you look up, eyes drawn to the neon glow of the Handsome Gambler’s sign. Rhett’s quick to meet you at the curb, offering his arm. You curl your hand around his bicep and he draws you close. At this time of night, the bar is busy, humming with energy and conversation. Rhett navigates the crowd with ease, exchanging brief hellos with a few people, finally stopping at an empty booth. You slide in and he follows. 

“Want a beer?” He asks.

You’re not much of a drinker but you nod anyway. Rhett flags down a waitress and a few minutes later two cold beers are dropped off at your table. You fiddle with the label as Rhett takes a long swig and leans back, shoulders relaxing. When you sense him watching, you bring the bottle to your lips and take a drink. It’s cold and a little bitter on your tongue. Your distaste for it must show because Rhett cocks his head to the side with a faint smile on his lips.

“I can order you something else,” he offers. “Wine? Something fruity?”

“Maybe something fruity… honestly though this is okay. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

Rhett shakes his head and flags down the waitress again, ordering you a daiquiri. “It won’t go to waste,” he assures you, pulling the beer toward him.

You return his smile as he rests his arm along the back of the booth. His fingertips hover just above your shoulder, not quite touching your jacket. This close to him you can smell his cologne, faint and a little musky but nice. Everything about this is surprisingly nice, including the way his denim-clad leg presses against yours, warm and firm. 

“He’s not here,” Rhett announces and you look up at him sharply. He’s still scanning the bar as he sips from his beer. For one silly moment, you forgot why you were even here, something that seemed impossible earlier. 

“Should we go?” You ask Rhett.

You’d only come to make it clear to the man that you were with Rhett.

“What?” Rhett’s brow furrows as he glances at you. “Why? You wanna go?”

“No.” You shake your head just as the waitress arrives with your drink. “We came so he’d see…”

“There’s more than one way to make sure he knows,” Rhett tells you, pushing up the brim of his hat before leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek. “Look to your right, past the pool tables. You see those men?” You nod, watching the rowdy group in the corner playing darts as you absently sip your drink. 

“They all work at the Dustin ranch, including the one in the baseball cap who keeps looking at us.” At that moment, the man in question stands up for his turn and looks back, meeting your eyes. If he is surprised to find you looking, he doesn’t show it. He holds your gaze for a second before glancing at Rhett who smirks and waves. His expression doesn’t change but when he turns back you catch a brief flash of something.

“He’ll make sure Jimmy gets the message that you’re with me.”

“Jimmy?”

“Your stalker," Rhett clarifies. "After I dropped you off this morning I paid a friend of mine a visit that’s friendly with the foreman of the Dustin ranch. That’s the man’s name. He hangs out with the guy in the baseball cap, Rick.” 

“Oh.” You stare at the table, trying to process the information Rhett gave you.

When he says your name softly you realize several minutes have passed in silence. “Sorry, I….” you trail off and look back at the man with the baseball cap. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Rhett says. “This is a lot.”

You nod, lips pressed together because you don’t trust yourself to speak. 

“Line dancing looks fun,” he notes, taking a swig of beer. “Might be a nice distraction and you can put those fancy boots to good use.”

“They’re not fancy,” you defend. 

“Hmmm, don’t look like nothing I’ve seen at the feed store,” he teases. “Come on.” He stands and offers his hand. 

You let him pull you up and follow him to the dance floor as Vince Gill’s What The Cowgirls Do fades from the speakers and a soft, more subdued song  plays. The crowd thins and you realize the remaining dancers are pairing up. Rhett doesn’t seem deterred by the change in music, grasping your right hand and wrapping his left arm loosely around your body. His palm rests firmly on your shoulder blade, pulling your body close to his. After a moment of hesitation, you settle your left arm on his bicep.

“It’s been a while since I’ve danced like this,” you admit, watching how easily the other couples move around the dance floor. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Rhett promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little but he’s quick to adjust his pace for you, whispering words of encouragement. Maybe it's how Rhett guides you around the dance floor or some long buried muscle memory from high school but soon enough you’re moving in sync. Then he raises his arm to spin your body in a circle before quickly drawing you back into his arms. When he does it again a second time, a breathless laugh escapes you. 

“Atta girl,” Rhett says, drawing you closer. 

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over when he speaks those two simple words. The world narrows to Rhett’s handsome face, his blue eyes dark pools in the dim light. Your chest constricts, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. It’s only when someone else bumps into the two of you and the spells breaks that you realize a new, more upbeat song is playing. 

Rhett’s lashes flutter and he releases you, his gaze falling away a moment later. 

“Beer’s probably getting warm,” he says and you hum your agreement, letting him lead you back to your seat.

Before you can make it, two men you don’t recognize stop Rhett. 

“Shit, that you Abbott?” The shorter one questions, swaying on his feet. 

You watch Rhett for his reaction, only relaxing when he smiles. “Smitty.”

“Heard you’re riding tomorrow.”

“I am,” Rhett agrees.

“Damn,now we gotta go to see that,” he tells his friend before turning his attention to you. “Did you know your boyfriend's one of the best damn bull riders in these parts?" He asks. 

You’re not sure what to say so you just nod. 

“You guys gotta come get a drink with us,” Smitty says. 

“Thanks, but my girl and I were about to head out,” Rhett says, capturing your hand in his. “Y'all have a good night.”

My girl. 

Rhett uses that phrase so casually, like he’s done it 100 times before. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where it’s true, losing yourself in the fantasy long enough to miss the rest of their conversation. When Smitty and his friend stumble away, Rhett leads you back to the booth where  your daiquiri has all but melted. If Rhett’s beer is warm, he doesn’t show it, finishing it off in one gulp. 

“If you want to get a drink with your friends…,” you start hesitantly.

Rhett’s quick to cut you off with a shake of his head.  “Not with those two dipshits. They’re fun for sure but… trouble too.”

You turn to face him. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

He waves your comment away, grinning with one side of his mouth. “Maybe, but it aint suitable for girls with flowers on their boots.” 

The rest of the evening passes surprisingly easy, so much so that before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and you’ve all but forgotten about Jimmy and the man in the hat. Rhett pays your bill with cash and walks you to his car, keeping a hand on your lower back. 

Once you arrive at your apartment, Rhett turns off the truck and leans forward to look out the windshield.

“Want me to stay the night?” He asks, leaning back. 

You do, but you’re aware of just how much he’s done for you already; staying over last night and pretending with you at the bar. You should decline and let him go home to sleep in a real bed but behind him you can see the dark windows of your apartment and the words catch in your throat. 

“Never was an Eagle Scout,” he starts, pulling a black duffle bag from behind the seat, “but I came prepared.”

You stare at the bag, surprised, and when you look back at Rhett he gives you that half smile of his, brow arched. You find yourself nodding before you can think too hard about it.

“Alright,” Rhett says, opening his door, “come on.”

That night you sleep better than you have in weeks and when the morning comes, you quietly slip out of your bedroom.  Rhett is already up, a mug of coffee in hand. He looks lost in thought, a deep crease between his brows but his expression clears when he sees you. 

“Made coffee,” he says, raising his mug. “Hope that was alright.”

“Of course,” you’re quick to tell him. 

“I won't be able to pick you up after work,” Rhett says, following you into the kitchen and leaning back against the counter. “Gotta be at the rodeo early but my Ma said she’d be there.”

“Okay.” You yawn as you doctor your coffee to make it sweet enough to drink.

“Looks like I kept you out too late,” he observes, watching you over the rim of his mug. 

“No, it was…” you pause searching for the right word but come up short. “I appreciate it,” you finally settle on. 

Rhett nods, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

When he sets his empty mug in the sink, you head back to your room and get ready for work.  Once you’re dressed, you reach for the beat-up tennis shoes you always wear, stopping short when you see your boots from last night. You hesitate for only a second before slipping them on instead. 

Rhett drops you off with a kiss on your cheek and a wave to Sandra, who watches the two of you from the front window display. The day passes uneventfully, without any sign of Jimmy. A little after 6 pm the Abbotts come to collect you. Cecilia is warm and open, asking about work while Royal drives, glancing at you occasionally in the rearview mirror. You’ve only met Rhett’s father in passing and always found him to be an intimidating man. Tonight he’s mostly silent, only chiming in when you tell Cecilia about an issue that happened today with Donald Everrtt’s lumber order.

“That man’s got more cows than sense,” Royal grumbles and you laugh when Cecilia chastises him.

Leaning back and gazing out the window, you think about your own parents. They weren’t so different from Rhett’s and you’d forgotten how nice something as simple as this could feel. Thinking of them hurts like it always does and you swallow around the lump in your throat, distracting yourself by listening to Cecilia and Royal talk about Rhett and the bull he’s meant to ride tonight. 

When you arrive at the rodeo, it’s loud and chaotic. The announcer booms something about the bull riding beinging soon. It doesn’t escape your notice that Royal and Cecilia keep you between them as they guide you through the crowd of people to the metal bleachers where Rhett’s brother and his family are waiting. Their daughter, Amy, is quick to question you once you’re seated. 

“Are you Uncle Rhett’s girlfriend?” she asks, leaning around Cecilia to see you.

You stare at her, unsure how to answer with so many people around. Rhett had shared the plan with his parents but you weren’t sure who else knew the truth. Your silence makes Amy’s  little brows furrow, a look so reminiscent of her uncle that it almost makes you smile. 

Thankfully Cecilia interjects before you have to figure out what to say. “Yes, Amy.”

Before Amy can ask you any more questions, her mother suggests they get some popcorn. Once they disappear, Perry takes a swig from the flask in his boot, and when he sees his mother looking, he makes a face.

“Come on Ma,” he grumbles, but Cecilia pins him with a silent, angry look and he eventually puts the flask away, sighing heavily.

There are several riders before Rhett and you watch each of them get thrown from their bull with increasing anxiety. You search for him among the crowd of riders at the far end of the fence. When you spot him, you’re surprised to find he’s watching you. He grins, tipping his hat. It’s such a simple gesture, but it fills you with a fluttering warmth that lasts long after he looks away to acknowledge his parents. 

When it’s finally Rhett’s turn to ride, you rub your hands on your thighs anxiously. The buzzer goes off and you flinch as the gate is ripped open. The world narrows to Rhett, the bull, and the sound of your own breathing. The seconds tick past agonizingly slow until he’s thrown from the bull. 

Dust flies and the bull stomps. You stand up, searching until you find him stock still in the dirt. You make a small, terrified sound and Royal touches your shoulder drawing your gaze. 

“He’s okay. Just got the breath knocked from him,” he assures you. 

You look at Cecilia who seems just as concerned but then a second later the bull is gone and Rhett stands. His gaze is focused on the scoreboard but you watch him. His expression is serious, lips pressed into a thin line as his chest heaves. Then suddenly he smiles, open joy written across his features and the crowd cheers. When you look up his name is first on the board. 

Beside you, Royal yells and Perry sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. Cecilia shouts his name and Amy jumps with excitement. You expect Rhett to come straight to his parents but he makes a beeline for you, climbing up the bleachers and past people with ease. 

“Rhett,” you start, whatever you were going to say cut short by his lips on yours. The kiss is intense but brief. When he pulls away, he looks as surprised as you feel. You stare at one another before suddenly he’s pulled back by an older man who claps him on the shoulder. More people push forward to offer him congratulations. 

“Let him hear you one more time,” the announcer encourages. “Ladies and gentlemen, your hometown hero, Rhett Abbott!”

You touch your lips, mind working hard to process what just happened. Rhett looks back, eyes glued to yours as he’s pulled back into the ring.

“Come on sweetheart,” Cecilia urges, patting your arm. “Let’s wait for him at the other end. Less people.”

You can’t see her eyes under the brim of your hat but you suddenly realize she and about a hundred other people just witnessed what Rhett did. You have no idea what his parents must think. There’s another feeling under the embarrassment and awkwardness that you don’t investigate too closely. 

“Well that was something,” Royal says and you glance up at him sharply before you realize he’s talking about Rhett’s ride. 

Cecilia smiles. “He’s gonna ride next weekend in the finals for sure.”

“I knew he’d make it,” Royal says proudly and you smile at both of them, nodding your agreement. 

After a few minutes, Perry arrives alone. “It was getting late so I thought it best Amy went home,” he tells the three of you, hands on his hips. “She can celebrate with us tomorrow.”

“Hmmm and I suppose you’re gonna help your brother celebrate tonight?” Cecilia asks, judgment clear in her tone.

“Yeah. Handsome Gambler,” he confirms, clapping Rhett on the back as he arrives. “You’ll be drinking for free, that’s for sure.” 

“Did you consider that your brother might not want to go?” Cecilia asks, looking at you pointedly. 

“Oh, that’s alright. We can go,” you say, feeling even more awkward.

Perry grins and leans in. This close you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Great, I’ll get us a booth.”

He disappears before Rhett even has a chance to speak. Cecilia sighs and Royal rubs her back. “Nothing wrong with having a little fun,” he reminds her.

“I know,” she concedes. “But be safe,” she adds, looking intently at Rhett.

“I will,” he promises her, nodding seriously.  

Cecilia offers you a tight hug, promising to stop by the store later in the week. Once she and Royal are gone, you’re alone with Rhett. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry.” He pauses, looking back at you. “For the kiss. I shoulda asked if you were okay with that. I was out of line.”

“It’s okay. It uh, was good. Lots of people saw. That’s the point right?”

He stares at you for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah, that’s the point," he agrees, finally before his gaze flicks away. “But, we don’t have to go to the Gambler tonight. Perry’s just… Perry,” he finishes with a long suffering sigh. 

You think about how excited he was before and what tonight means for him. He’d done so much for you lately, the least you could do was go with him to the bar. There was no way he’d drop you off and home and go alone. You had fun with him last night after all. Maybe tonight would be just as nice. 

“We can go,” you tell him but he frowns, clearly unconvinced. It’s late and you’re tired but it isn’t hard to manage a genuine smile for him. “Afterall, I brought my dancing boots,” you add, pulling up your jeans to reveal them. 

“Alright,” he agrees, his expression lightening. 

The bar is more crowded than last night and Rhett keeps you close. Everyone wants to talk to him, including Maria. You can’t help but feel jealous at the way she lays a hand on Rhett’s arm and leans in close to speak to him. She’s even more beautiful than she was in high school when half the town knew he’d been in love with her.

Watching them together and seeing the easy way he smiled at her, you wonder if he still is. That makes your chest ache, which is silly. You and Rhett weren’t actually together. Nothing, from the dance last night to his kiss earlier, was real. It was an act because you caught the wrong kind of attention. Suddenly, you want to be anywhere but here. You take a step away but Rhett’s quick to face you, his hand shooting out to grasp your elbow.

You lean in to be heard over the din of the bar. “I need to use the restroom but Perry said he can come with me,” you lie, looking over your shoulder at his brother. 

“I can come,” Rhett tells you, setting his beer down. 

You wave him off. “Catch up with your friends.”

When you realize Rhett doesn’t turn around immediately you’re forced to actually ask Perry. He agrees and finishes off his beer, following after you a little unsteady. You take your time in the bathroom, splashing water on your face and staring at your reflection. It’s quiet here but your mind is buzzing. You close your eyes and sigh. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, lost in thought but eventually a toilet flushes and you stand straight. You were being selfish, Rhett deserved to celebrate tonight without worrying over you. 

With a deep breath you head back into the bar, searching for Perry. When you left he was leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. Now he’s nowhere to be found. You only make it a few steps before someone’s hand closes around your wrist and tugs you back. You spin around, half expecting to find Rhett but it’s not him. 

Green eyes meet yours. 

“Hi baby,” Jimmy says, smiling. 

[14dayswithyou]

Meowdy Saint! ^^ lolol hello hello o/ hope you are doing good!!

So this masterpiece of a game has been invading my mind with ZERO chill lately which directly translated to me coming up with a TON of questions orz I really didn't realize how many I ended up compiling lol

If you don't feel like answering this many please feel absolutely free to ignore this ask or only answer the ones you like the most, the last thing I want is for you to feel overwhelmed! ^^

ALRIGHT LET'S-A GO

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™?

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol

-does he know how to give massages? :00

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name?

(I am not sure if this⬇️ questions falls under character deaths, if it does I really apologize and absolutely feel free to ignore it ^^)

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl)

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100%

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao

ALRIGHT THATS ALL IM SO SORRY FOR ASKING SO MUCH THE REN BRAINROT HOURS ARE SO REAL IM LOSING BRAINCELLS orz Remember to take care of yourself drink water and take breaks!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

(Also sorry if some phrases don't make sense, english isn't my first language as I am 🤌 lolol)

✦゜ANSWERED: Under da cut because this got long >:3

-do Rendacted's memories remain intact when he resets the day or do his wipe too with everyone else's? Also is there an in-universe answer for why he has these glitchy powers or is he just Built Different™? Ren's memories remain intact!! I mean... He remembers each time you get a bad end and sometimes says something different... >:3 There is also an in-universe reason as to why he has his abilities — I won't spoil anything, but his real name (along with River's and one other character) have a reeeeally big tell. But what this tell is is for me to know and you to find out >:3

-if angel made it VERY clear that they would be mad asf and prolly even start hating and leave Ren/[REDACTED] if he were to hurt their friends(or killing people bc this man needs to chill fr), would he listen to them? Bc I know that if he touches Violet, Elanor, Kiara or god forbid Moth I'm personally deleting his kneecaps 🥰 Ren (and by extension [REDACTED]) knows not to harm anyone if he knows you won't like it — and even then — he won't actively show that murderous side of him in the first place. To Angel, Ren is just a timid, normal guy.

-since it seems to me that Ren/[REDACTED] is only kinda meh at cooking I was wondering if he actually made the not burnt pancakes in day 3 or if he had some store bought ones that he passed off as his own lol Ren is actually good at cooking, he's just a bit out of touch since he doesn't normally cook for himself! It's normally microwave meals or takeout for him... ^^; And yes, Ren did burn and burn the pancakes in Day 3 — he was distracted by something on his phone :3

Bonus cut Day 3 content: I took out the scene where Ren started to profusely apologise for burning the pancake because he often had to cook when he was younger. Given the dynamic of his family and the environment he grew up in, Ren didn't have much room to make mistakes ;n; I cut this scene out because I felt bad ksgskd So y'all get to have flustered, happy Ren instead!!

-does he know how to give massages? :00 If that was one of Angel's interests or desires, then sure!! ^^

-during day 1, how did Ren come up with a book on the local flora?? It seems like such a random topic to pick when put on the spot without already having a genuine interest in it lmao Someone else likes flora too, and it sure would be funny if Ren (eventually) starts to mimic certain traits and interests of the person you have the highest affinity/relationship points with in order to make himself look more appealing… >:3c

-if I understood correctly Maple should be Jae's dog right?? Did you have a specific breed or age in mind when creating her? I got curious because in my head she automatically popped up as a young australian shepherd to match with Jae's hyperactive dumbass energy lol❀⸜(˶´ ˘ `˶)⸝❀ It was mentioned in Jae's lore post (I'll link it here once I find it), but Maple is a Labrador! (Leon would be Jae's Australian Shepherd hehe) In my mind, Maple is only 2 or 3 years old, but that wouldn't really fit the official timeframe... ^^; Jae adopted Maple during high school so he wouldn't feel lonely at home, and it's been over 6+ years since then.... hgdshjg

-staying on the dog topic lol, in day 1 when angel gets up from the couch to get Ren the inflatable mattress(iirc) and he follows right behind them i immediately thought he acted like a puppy lmao. So would he mind being called 'puppy' as a pet name? Angel affectionately calls Ren a puppy during the scene in Day 1 where they meet up after work, so that nickname definitely could work!

-from an ask from last year it seems [REDACTED] would ultimately kill angel if there was ultimately not way to enter in their life?? Gotta say I was very taken aback by this, would this still be the case after a year of building more to his character? (Ok I went back to check the ask again but I can't for the life of me find it anymore maybe I dreamt it up idk😭😭 im really sorry if that is the case jdkslajdl) aaa I think you might be mistaking that ask for something else? ;v; [REDACTED] would NEVER harm Angel in any capacity, and they're a very patient person. Even if it took decades for Angel to fall in love with him, they'll wait.

-uuhh I know there is already a lot in this ask(im seriously sorry orz), but I was wondering if we will eventually get an SFW alphabet for Ren/[REDACTED] for the folks who don't care about the nasty 👉👈 You're fine!! And I'm open to doing that! I'll add it to my list hehe

-THIS IS THE LAST THING I PROMISE 👹 will there be a guide to get all the endings? I'm not sure if there is one already and in that case I missed it 100% I've shared a spreadsheet that lists all the available choices, the points you earn from each of them, and the endings you can get — however it's only available on Discord and I don't really want to share it outside of the server and potentially put it in the hands of minors. Sorry!!

Also I find it ironic how the fandom is trying to find out every single aspect of Ren/[REDACTED]'s character the same way he must do with angel lmao Hehe >:3 There's a loooot of lore that won't ever be mentioned in the game (since it doesn't seem fitting/I don't see a reason to), so I'm happy to provide it here!

[its-avalon-08]

why did you leave me (cl16)

part5!

multipart story! prev || next

summary : charles and y/n have always been best friends. but y/n has been in love with him forever. when charles starts dating a new girl, out of respect y/n distances herself. but how much is too much?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Charles had been in a foul mood all week. The breakup with Camille had left him heartbroken, but more than that, he felt a deep sense of loneliness. The one person he truly wanted to talk to was Y/N, but she had been so distant lately.

As he approached the Red Bull garage, he spotted a familiar group. Carlos, Lando, Max, and Lewis were standing together, laughing and chatting. Y/N was there too, looking radiant as ever, her laughter ringing out melodiously.

Charles' mood darkened further when he spotted Y/N chatting animatedly with Lando Norris. They stood close, laughing and sharing an easy camaraderie that used to belong to him and Y/N. Lando wrapped his arms around Y/N in a playful hug, and Charles felt a surge of jealousy and anger.

Charles' heart clenched as he watched her interact so effortlessly with the others. He made his way over, feeling a pang of jealousy mixed with longing.

"Hey, guys," Charles greeted, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Charles!" Carlos said, giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it's been a while," Charles replied, his eyes drifting to Y/N.

"Y/N was just telling us about her trip to Japan," Lando said, his eyes shining with excitement. "It sounded amazing!"

"You went to Japan?" Charles asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Y/N nodded, her smile faltering slightly as she met his gaze. "Yeah, it was a spontaneous trip. I needed a break."

"Sounds fun," Charles said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.

Max, sensing the tension, quickly changed the subject. "So, Charles, how’s the car feeling today?"

Charles answered distractedly, his mind racing with thoughts of Y/N. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been left out, that he was no longer a part of her life. As the conversation continued, he realized just how much he had missed. The others knew about her recent adventures, her new hobbies, even small details about her day-to-day life.

"Y/N's been really into photography lately," Lewis mentioned, showing Charles a stunning photo Y/N had taken on his phone. "She's got a real talent."

Charles clenched his jaw, feeling a surge of anger and frustration. He turned to Y/N, his eyes blazing. "Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why did I have to find out from them?"

Y/N looked taken aback, her eyes wide with hurt. "Charles, I—"

"Why weren't you there anymore, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Why did you cut me out of your life? One day I woke up and you just weren't there anymore. No call, no text, no updates. You abandoned me."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the brewing storm. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. "Charles, I didn’t mean to—"

"You didn’t mean to what?" he interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You didn’t mean to leave your best friend behind? You didn’t mean to make me feel like I don’t matter anymore?"

"Charles, that’s not fair," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "You were happy with Camille. I didn’t want to intrude and I thought that was okay. That you were okay with it."

"Everything is far from okay," he snapped. "How come you have time for everyone else but me? You can be here for Lando, laughing and hugging, but you can't even spare a minute for your so-called best friend."

"Charles, please," Y/N said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, you did," he said, his voice cracking. "You hurt me more than you can imagine."

Y/N faced Charles, taken aback by his outburst. "Charles, I—"

"No, Y/N, let me finish," he interrupted, his voice trembling with emotion. "I've been through hell these past few weeks. Camille and I fucking broke up, and the one person I wanted to talk to, the one person I needed, was you. But you weren't there. You were nowhere to be found. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Y/N's eyes widened with shock and guilt. "You and Camille broke up? Charles, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know! You haven't been around to know anything about my life," he retorted. "I don't get it, Y/N. Why do you want to be friends with everyone else but me? Why are you pushing me away?"

Y/N reached out, trying to touch his arm, but he pulled away, the hurt and betrayal evident on his face. "I thought we were supposed to be there for each other, no matter what."

"We are," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. "We are, Charles."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she realized the extent of his pain. "Charles, I never wanted to hurt you. I thought distancing myself was the right thing to do."

"Right for who? Because it sure as hell wasn't right for me," he said bitterly. "I've missed you so much, Y/N. You were my best friend, and now it feels like I've lost you too."

He asked, his voice breaking, "Why did you leave me?" Charles shook his head, his anger giving way to a deep sadness. "I just want to understand," he whispered.

Before Y/N could respond, Carlos stepped in, his tone gentle but firm. "Charles, maybe we should all take a moment to cool down. This isn’t the place for this conversation."

Charles nodded, his anger still simmering. He turned away, not trusting himself to speak without lashing out again. He needed to clear his head, to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions tearing him apart.

As he walked away, he heard Y/N’s soft sobs and it broke his heart even more. He knew he needed answers, but more than that, he needed to find a way to fix the shattered pieces of their friendship before it was too late.

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ John ⇢ *- You And I -* ⇠ Shelby ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) John Shelby x reader

⇾ Summary: you and John have only just started dating, although John has yet to tell you about his kids.

⇾ Warnings: slight angst, but a happy ending.

Before the handsome blonde had entered your life, you found it to be boring, having nothing to look forward to, just a miserable life with no sense of fun, but after meeting the man in question, he completely flipped your life around.

John made you feel alive, like you had a purpose to live again, and not to mention the adrenaline rush you got whenever you were out and about with him, knowing that no one would dare say anything or even look harshly in your direction, all because of the reputation of not only a Shelby man, but a Peaky blinder too.

You watched as he tapped impatiently against the bar, waiting for the both of your drinks to be poured. It was a Thursday night, but a night that the two of you would get drunk together nonetheless.

It was his decision to hang out tonight, and that always made you feel good about yourself, knowing that he was happy to be seen around with you on his side.

He returned back to your table, a scowl settled on his face after the unpleasant encounter with the barman. “I should’ve taken you to the Garrison, sorry love.” He said, placing down your drink in front of you.

“It’s fine, John. Nothing to worry about.” You brushed it off, waving him off as if to say that it was not a problem. “We won’t let him stop our night, eh?” You smiled up at him.

He slumped down in the seat across from you, a smirk gracing his lips whilst nodding his head. “Nothing could ruin my night, so long as I have you around.” He winked, smiling cheekily as he waited for your response.

You rolled your eyes, mentioning how cheesy he was as you took a sip of your, finally, correct drink. “Got anything planned for the weekend?” He asked.

You thought for a moment before shaking your head. “I’ve got work in the afternoon on Sunday, but aside from that, no.” You answered.

“That works out, my k- uhm. My schedule clear for the weekend. Stay the weekend at mine?” He appeared flustered as he started, before quickly returning back to his usual confident ways.

“Like I could ever say no to you.”

-

You walked out of the pub, smiling ear to ear as you and John swung eachothers hands back and forth, happily chatting away about anything that you could think of. “Sometimes I wish that I could spend every hour of everyday with you.” You sighed, thinking about how great live would be if that were the case.

He hummed, chuckling at your words. “Think you’d get sick of me quick.” He replied.

“Maybe…” you trailed off.

“You weren’t supposed to agree.” He disconnected your hands, placing his arm around your shoulder instead and holding you close.

You giggled at him.

Shortly, you arrived at his home, he entered in first. It was quiet at first, but the second you guys entered and closed the door, kids came running in shouting ‘daddy!’

You frowned, watching as they ran up to him and hugged him. There were four kids, evidently all being Johns, although you were unaware of him having any kids at all. This led you to believe that maybe John wasn’t being as honest as you thought, he never mentioned any kids so maybe he never mentioned any wife.

John glanced back at you, his facial expression showing concern and worry. “Why are you all here? You’re supposed to be with the nanny.” He asked his kids.

The oldest girl stepped forward. “She said that there was an emergency, so she had to bring us back home.” She answered, softly.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath. “Alright, all of you into the living room. I’ll be down soon.” He ushered them all out and into the other room, before grabbing your wrist and guiding you upstairs.

He pulled you into a room, his bedroom if you had to guess. “You have kids.” You stated quietly, watching him throw his cap down onto the bed and run a hand through his hair.

“I do, I have those four.” He nodded his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me about them?” You asked him.

He sat down on the bed. “Because I thought that it would scare you away if you found out I had four kids, it did every other person.” He explained.

“So, were you planning on hiding them from me for the rest of this relationship then?” You replied.

“No, I don’t know. Look, I don’t know what the plan was. All I know, is that I fucking like you, alright. And I didn’t want anything to stand in between us.” He stood up, approaching you and grabbing your hands, holding them tightly in his own, “I’m sorry that I never said anything about them.”

“I don’t know the first thing about raising children, John.” You said, looking up at him with tired eyes.

“Neither did I, and to be frank, I still don’t.” He responded, “I’m still learning, I still make mistakes, but we can do that together now.” He added, “just you and I.”

“No… no other people?” You wondered.

He quickly shook his head, hands meeting your cheeks. “No, bloody hell, no. Like I said, just you and I.” He leaned in, placing his lips on yours and waited for a reaction.

He smiled into the kiss as you reciprocated it. “Their mother died after the youngest was born. I was still in the war when she passed. There hasn’t been anyone important to me since, but that’s changed now. I’ve got you.”

You couldn’t help but match his own smile. “Just you and I, then?”

“Just you and I.” He repeated.

“Daddy!”

“You and I, and the kids.”

[lesservillain]

—iii. the smoke, and who's still standing when it clears

cw: some slight implied sexual thoughts?

an: i had to cut a part from this or else it was going to be way too long. see ya in the next one, reefer rick.

“So, how did it go?”

Tonya sits across from you looking perfect as always, such a beautiful light in your life. Even when she’s antagonizing you.

“It was…really nice actually.” A small, shy smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your mind recalls the night before.

Your date with Sam went way smoother than you had anticipated. He picked you up on time, even coming to the door to get you which you knew Tonya was going to bring up today. He did everything right; held open all of the doors, pulled your seat out for you, paid for your food, actually listened to what you had to say and didn’t interrupt you. He was extremely charming and funny, and the two of you had a lot more in common than you expected.

“Sam sounds pretty perfect, doesn’t he?” Tonya says with a teasing tone, eyebrows raising suggestively. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m making him sound that way, huh? It makes me wonder how bad his faults are going to be.” 

“Unless he’s got bodies in his basement I’d say keep him around.” Tonya raises her hand to count on her fingers, “He’s hot, he’s got a good job, good manners—I’d say baby trap his ass.”

“TONYA!” You lean in, whisper yelling at your friend’s suggestion, the two of you breaking out into a fit of giggles. “I am absolutely not doing that. But…I did agree to a second date.”

“I guess I can take that for now,” Tonya shrugs, taking a sip of her mimosa. “Oh, speaking of dates, I almost forgot. Charlie and I are going out of town for our anniversary. He’s taking me to Chicago!” Her giddiness warms you. Even if you aren’t a fan of him, you have to admit seeing your best friend happy brings you your own kind of happiness. 

The sharp sound of the phone ringing makes you jump, almost dropping the plate you were cleaning into the soapy water. You look at the stove clock reading just a little past 8 pm. In the few weeks that you’ve been here not once has the phone ever rang. Walking over to it, your hand hovers over the plastic as you debate on if you should answer it. It’s not like it's your house, but who else is going to answer the phone? 

A sigh of relief comes from you as the phone ceases it’s ringing on its own. The quiet takes over again, and you think you’re in the clear until the ringing starts again. 

Grabbing the phone, you quickly bring it to your ear with a, “Hello?” 

There’s a pause, and you repeat your greeting into the receiver. Suddenly you can pick up some whispering, at least two voices talking to each other on the other line. 

“Sorry, wrong number.” Click. Dial tone.

You look down at the phone before shaking your head and placing it back in place. But only a single step is taken before the phone begins to ring again. Annoyed now, you pick up the phone once more.

“Hello?” You say again, tone reflecting your temperament.

“Ugh, not again,” you hear the voice from the other end groan. “Sorry, miss.” Click. Dial tone again.

‘What the fuck?’ you think, putting the phone back on the hook again. You hover around it for a moment, and sure enough it begins to ring again.

“Listen, kid,” your start, tone firm, “If you keep calling here to bother this family I will call Chief Hopper.”

“You know Hopper?” The younger boy's voice says from the other line. No, you don’t know him. But Wayne told you to say that in case this exact scenario was to arise.

“Yes, I actually have his personal number right here—”

“So do I,” the boy quips back, striking a nerve. You’re about to give this kid an earful before he continues on. “I just saw him earlier today, actually. But that’s not the point. I’m just trying to get a hold of my friend and this is the number his uncle gave me to call and—”

“Uncle?”

“Yes, uncle. I don’t see how out of all the information I gave you that him having an uncle is what caught your attention.”

“Oh, my god, you are so annoying. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Is your friend’s name Eddie?”

“YES! Yes! His name is Eddie—”

“Dude, don’t tell her his name—”

“Chill out, Mike, it’s fine—How do you know Eddie?”

“Well,” you draw out, returning some of the attitude back to the other end of the call, “I think me telling you that depends on who is asking?”

There’s a bit of muffled deliberation between the boy on the phone and whoever Mike. You wait patiently, foot tapping against the kitchen tile. After a moment you hear a sigh come from the other line, followed by a throat clearing.

“Okay, fine. My name is Dustin Henderson,” the boy starts. “I’m calling looking for Eddie Munson. He is my friend, and myself and some of his other friends are worried about him. I’m assuming you’re in his house for some reason, and I am asking you if we could talk to him. Please.”

“Dustin Henderson, huh?” You repeat, attempting to keep a bit of sass in your tone. In reality, the name instantly rings a bell. Wayne told you a little about Eddie’s friends, and along with the guys that Eddie was in a band with, the name Dustin came up a lot. Wayne said Eddie looked at Dustin like a little brother he never had. 

It takes everything in you to keep your composure right now. Eddie’s been feeling much better these last couple days, so you’re sure he’ll be delighted to talk to his friends. “Okay, Dustin Henderson. Let me go ask him if he’s up to taking a phone call. Hold on.”

You set the phone down on the kitchen table and jog down the hall to Eddie’s room. Knocking on his door, you push it open slightly before calling into the room.

“Eddie? Are you up?”

“Hmmm…I am now,” the groggy, sleepy voice from the other side of the door sends an unwanted chill down your back. Quickly shaking it off, you enter the room to Eddie sitting up in his bed, hair in every which direction and arms outstretched as he lets out the most unnecessarily loud yawn you’ve ever heard. You give him an unimpressed look to which he returns mockingly.

“Can I help you? Or did you just come in here to stare?”

You roll your eyes, “You have a phone call. From a Dustin Henderson, who seems like he very much would like to speak with you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, an excited expression on his face. Though, it’s a fleeting one, as his features become downtrodden and he starts to sink down into himself.

“Tell him I’m asleep.”

“What? Why?”

He huffs. “I don’t want to talk to him…”

“Eddie, he’s called the house at least four times. Can you just—“

“No.”

You watch him sink under the covers again, back into the safety net of his comforter. You stand there for a moment, dumbstruck. Eddie’s can definitely be an ass, but Wayne told you before that Eddie’s friends mean a lot to him.

Leaving Eddie behind in his room, you make your way back to the kitchen. Bringing the phone to your ear, you can hear the boys on the other end having a conversation between them.

“—aybe it’s his girlfriend,” the other boy says teasingly.

“Eddie? With a girl? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Dustin scoffs.

“Hello?” You say into the receiver with a giggle.

“Yes, hi, we’re still here,” Dustin says with urgency.

“Hi, um, so I went to check on him and he says he’s not really feeling up to talking today.”

“Oh, okay…” Your heart aches hearing the disappointment in the boy’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “Try again tomorrow, okay? Maybe a little earlier. I think his medicine makes him sleepy.”

“Alright, will do,” Dustin perks up. “Thank you ma’am.” 

You give him your name before giving your goodbyes.

Dustin and Mike call every day for the next 4 days. One time with their friend Will, who apparently has never met Eddie but wants to meet him so they can all talk about dungeons and dragons. 

You see, Eddie was their dungeon master in their high school club, which also includes the guys in Eddie’s band. All of them have been playing a new campaign, and they want to give Eddie all the details of their first get together without him.

All of this you have learned against your will, mostly because every time Eddie turns down their phone call, you can’ help but lend an ear when they get going. And, boy, do they get going.

“So we told Will to cast a fireball, but he wanted to save his spell slot and—”

“What's a spell slot?” You sit at the dining room table, flipping through a car magazine Wayne left sitting out.

“It’s, like, the amount of spells you’re allowed to use per day in the game.”

“Ooooh, so he only gets so many?”

“Correct.���

“Well, then yeah it would make sense that he would want to conserve them.”

“See,” Mike stresses from the other end of the line, “She doesn’t even play and she gets it! Quit picking on Will! It’s not like we lost anyway.”

“Yeah, but we would have gotten through the hoard a lot quicker if he had at least tried.”

The sound of Eddie’s bell pulls you from the boys’ banter. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” you say, placing the phone down on the table. 

Sprinting down the hall, you knock quickly before entering the room. Eddie still doesn’t call for you often, so when he does you can't help but worry a bit. “Everything okay—oh shit!” 

Instead of hiding under his covers, Eddie sits back against the headboard of the hospital bed. His covers have all been kicked to the floor and the middle of his bed sheet is drenched. Upon further inspection, you see that his shirt and boxers are soaked as well. 

“Eddie, what happened?”

“What does it look like?!” His tone is full of frustration. “I dropped my fucking cup and the lid popped off and spilled all over the place!”

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly, “I can fix this. Why don’t you get in your chair and I’ll strip the bed?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbled, face wincing in pain as he slowly moved his body to sit on the edge of the bed. You moved to the side of the bed and offered a helping hand, which he ignored but at least you tried. Once he was properly sitting on the edge, you grabbed his chair and positioned it before raising the bed. 

“Okay, just put your hands on my shoulders…” you start, instructing him like you would one of your patients. “And I’ll just—“ 

Your hands hover for a moment as you fully process that he is only wearing boxers. Wet boxers that, when in close proximity, don’t leave much to the imagination when left wet and sticking to his body.

Not wanting to let your eyes wander, you preoccupy yourself by placing your hands on his hips and grabbing the hem of his undergarment. 

“On the count of three, we’ll pivot. Ready?”

Eddie gives you a nod, placing his hands on your shoulders and holding tightly. You keep your eyes on his foot as you count down, shifting him into his chair in one swift motion. He grunts as he gets adjusted in the chair, a little winded from all the movement. 

“You good?” You ask, taking a step back. 

“I’ll live,” he says with cynicism. 

“You better. Won't look good on me if you die on my watch.

It’s fleeting, but you swear that you see the corner of his lips curl up into a smile before he turns away from you. 

“Whatever,” he mumbles, “I’m gonna get in the shower.”

You perk up at his declaration. “Really? Okay! Let me go hang up with Dustin and the guys and I’ll get my stuff for you.”

Eddie’s hair flies everywhere with the way his head snaps in your direction. His head bows, eyes squinting as he speaks, “What do you mean hang up with Dustin and the guys…?”

“Oh, they called again so I was talking to them.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve been talking to my friends on my phone…?”

“Well you’re not doing it,” you shrug. “They were just telling me about the game you guys play, I guess Will didn’t cast a flameball because he wanted to save one of his slots or something—“

“Okay, first of all, it’s fireball, not flameball. And second, why the hell are they telling you about this stuff? Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Sorry, fireball,” you apologize with sarcasm. “And, they would be telling you all of this if you would just talk to them.”

His face scrunches up, head shaking before he turns away from you completely. You notice for the first time that he pushes the wheels with the palms of his hands rather than using his fingers to grip them. Having helped set up his dinner for him a few times, you’ve seen that with the tissue damage to his right hand that he doesn’t have much mobility in it. 

The temptation to offer some physical therapy for it sits in your mind. But, you’re not sure how he would react to your offer, so you’ll hold off until you can chip away at him a little more. He pushes himself slowly into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. With a sigh you leave him be and go to hang up the call with the boys. 

After grabbing new bed sheets, you reenter Eddie’s room and begin to strip his bed, piling everything onto the floor. You're about to take off the pillow cases when a sudden clatter has you rushing to the bathroom door. 

Pushing it open, you peer inside to see Eddie sitting at the sink. From what you can see of his reflection, it looks like he’s trying to shave the scruffy, uneven hair that's grown on the non scarred parts of his face. 

“You’re quick, huh?” He comments as he reaches into the sink for his electric razor. 

“Well, can’t blame me after the other day, can you?” You tease, referring to his fall last week. He doesn’t respond and turns the razor back on to continue shaving. 

As you stand there and watch him, your words come out like word vomit. “You look good like that.”

His eyes flick to meet yours in the reflection in the mirror. “What's that supposed to mean?” He asks with a clipped tone.

“It means what I said.” 

And you could leave it at that. You often wonder if he had been bullied even before his scarring with how often he questions any praise you throw at him. But, instead you decide that doubling down and talking more is the proper thing to do. “You look very nice clean shaven. Very handsome.”

Big, brown eyes blink slowly at you. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up for you before now. I’ll do my best to make myself easier to look at from here on out.” He gives you that same tight lipped smile that you’ve begun to notice whenever he gets an attitude like this.

Your jaw drops and you scoff. “Eddie, that is not what I meant and you know—” He cuts you off by turning on the razor again, the loud buzz muffling your words as it echoes off the bathroom walls. 

Your shoulders slump in defeat. You want to just turn tail and take care of his bed, but decide to get the bathroom set up for him while you’re in there. You place towels on the floor and on his shower chair, leave a couple of washcloths on the built-in handrail, and set the shower head down so that everything is within reach for him. 

“Oh, I almost forgot—“ You were expecting Eddie to still be fidgeting at the sink, too preoccupied with setting things up for him to notice that he was watching you run around his bathroom with amusement. 

“I, um…” his unmoving glare was tense, making you feel like you were being evaluated. “I brought some stuff for your hair to, uh, help with the knots and stuff. Let me go grab them for you.”

The first step you take is slow, expecting some form of protest from him. But, when he remains silent you rush through the door and across the hall to grab the supplies you’ve stowed away in it. Detangler, a pick comb, and some shampoo and conditioner that should help with the curls. 

With full arms you reenter Eddie’s bathroom. He’s moved closer to the shower’s edge and looks to be in the process of removing his shirt on his own. The limited mobility along with the tightness of his scars make it difficult for him to move his arms up above his head, but his stubborn ass seems to be a glutton for punishment.

“Here,” you say, setting everything on the shower shelf. Tugging his shirt up for him, his head disappears inside of the shirt and his fluff of hair reappears as you pull it off completely. You still can't get over how his back is almost completely void of scars when compared to the rest of body. 

“Thanks,” he says without much thought. You hum in return, tossing the shirt on top of his bed.

“Anything else I can help you with?” 

No response. You look back at him and see that he’s completely still. “Everything okay?” You ask, noticing the troubled look on his face as you round his chair. 

“I…” he says quietly, eyes concentrated on the tiles on the floor, “I can’t stand up on my own and take my underwear off…”

Oh.

At this point in your schooling, seeing someone naked wouldn’t normally bother you after all of the saggy boobs and flat butts you’ve washed during your nursing assistant training. It’s a necessary skill to be able to detach the naked body from inherent sexuality in the medical field. 

And Eddie’s body shouldn’t be any different. Just because he’s close to you in age doesn’t make him any different from your previous patients. So why is your face heating up thinking about it?

“I-I see,” you say, trying to not sound as flustered as you are. “Let me think…Oh! Why don't we get you on the seat, we’ll lay a towel across your lap, and then you can shimmy your boxers off under them?”

Eddie mulls it over for a moment before reluctantly shaking his head. You move in front of him to get into position and make another quick transfer onto the shower chair. Eddie hisses in pain next to your ear, most likely due to the stiff plastic of the seat that he’s not used to pushing into his back and butt. 

Placing a towel over his lap, you stand by as he wordlessly slips his hands under it and begins rocking back and forth. You keep your eyes above chest level, not wanting to look away in case he were to start to fall. 

“Shit!” Eddie says, making you look down instinctively. The towel must have caught on his boxers as he was pulling them down, and you watched in slow motion as the towel slipped lower, getting dangerously close to exposing him. 

Thinking quickly, you grab for the towel and hold it up against his skin. Eddie’s hands flail as he tries to get them out from under it as fast as he can. His boxers fall unceremoniously off his thigh and pool around his single ankle. The two of you stare at them, then at your hand that is pressed firmly into his lower abdomen. You have a firm hold on the towel, your hand the only thing keeping it from joining the dark blue boxers on the shower tile as it’s fully fallen off of his lap, draped down to cover his…

…is that his…against the heel of your palm?

Pushing back the inappropriate thoughts starting to form in your mind, you grab the ends of the towel and lay them on Eddie’s lap again. He doesn’t say anything as his hands do their best to hold the fabric in place as you adjust it. You’re almost afraid to look up at him, not wanting to acknowledge that you may or may not have accidentally grabbed your patient by the dick.

“Okay,” you say with as steady of a voice as you can muster, “I think you should be good now. You grab his boxers from around his ankle and quickly make your exit from the shower, pulling the curtain behind you. “Just shout if you need me!”

The hard spray of the shower turning on is the only response you get.

“Ow!”

“Eddie, if you want me to comb out these knots you’re going to have to complain less.”

“I can’t help I have a tender scalp now.”

“Now?”

You can see Eddie’s scrunched up expression in the mirror’s reflection as you spray detangler into his curls. The conditioner had done quite a bit of loosening of his tangles and mats, but there was still a fair bit that needed to be combed out.

“Yes, now. I used to be able to just take a brush through it at the end of the day and be fine. But no one really took care of it when I was in the hospital.”

“Wayne never tried to do anything with it?”

Eddie gives you an annoyed look in the mirror. “You’ve seen my uncle, right? He’s not exactly the person I would go to for my hair care advice.” The shine that comes from the head of the older Munson is definitely prominent. 

“What about the nurses?” You ask as you comb through another successfully detangled section of his hair. He doesn’t respond right away, a distant look in his eyes as he stares at his own reflection.

“No, they couldn’t help me either.”

“Hmm. Well, I don’t mind doing your hair for you. My best friend is a hair stylist and can give me some tips to help you keep it manageable after my time with you is done, too.”

“What do you mean after your time is done?” He asks after a moment.

You tilt your head at him. “Like when my volunteering program is done? I think it goes until the end of the semester. So like the first or second week of December.”

“You’re a volunteer?” There was an angry lit to his tone.

“Y-yeah? I’m sorry I thought you knew—”

“No, I thought…I thought my uncle was paying you to be here.”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m doing this as part of my schooling. My class is working with the VisitingAngels to get more help in Hawkins. It’s totally free and I don’t make any money, just some extra credit for school.”

Eddie’s face changes as he processes your words, before visibility softening as he looks at you. “Well, I guess you must have pulled the short straw to get stuck with me then.”

There was a complete change in his attitude all of the sudden. The normal agitation in his voice was gone, making his statement sound lighter than anything he’s ever said to you before.

“I picked you.”

His eyes meet yours, dumbfounded. 

“Well, kind of,” you start. “Sa—I mean, they told me that you were a…special case. A lot of information was redacted in your sheet, and, well, you know, with everything else…”

“I’m sure I wasn’t anyone else’s first choice.”

“But, I didn’t think that was fair, so I said I would take care of you. Glad I did, even if you give me more trouble than you’re worth sometimes.”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing and you laugh as you continue to work through his hair. 

Your lower back ached as you climbed out of your car. School was out for teacher’s meetings so you switched with a coworker to have all of Saturday off. Sam asked to take you to the movies for your second date and you both decided to do ice cream after so you wanted to be able to sleep in and lessen the chance of falling asleep during the movie. But you paid the price today, forgetting that your coworker is normally the one who puts inventory away. 

“Hey there, little lady,” Wayne says as he walks out from the backyard. It’s not as hot as it had been, colder weather on the horizon as September was coming to a close, but the older man had a dark gray ring of sweat around the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, Wayne,” you waved to him with a smile. “Getting some last minute yard work done before the rain comes in?”

“Yeah, wanna get this grass seed down so come spring it’ll start to grow. Tired of havin’ta clean mud off m’truck all the damn time.”

“Do you need any help? I used to work all summer in the garden with my grandma as a kid. I’m sure I still have a little bit of green left in these thumbs.”

Wayne’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, the lines looking deep with age. “That’s alright darlin’, I’m done for the day. Preciate ya askin’. Better get inside and get ready fer work.”

You follow him into the house where you’re met with the sound of heavy metal all throughout. You look at Wayne confused, but he just shakes his head and starts heading down the hallway. He pushes Eddie’s door open and your hands fly to your ears with how much louder the music gets before it abruptly stops. 

“What the hell, Wayne!” You hear Eddie whine. 

“Look, I get you’re excited kid but I don’t think your Uncle Ben would appreciate you using his gift to make yourself go deaf.”

“Uncle Ben?” 

Both pairs of Munson eyes land on where you stand in the doorway. They look as if they’ve been caught and you wonder if you should have stayed in the living room. 

“Sorry, I—“

“No, it’s fine,” Wayne says, giving Eddie a look. “Ben is a friend of mine. S’known Eddie since I got custody of em and Eddie’s just always called em Uncle ever since.”

“Oh okay,” is all you said. It seemed like such a normal thing, but the sketchy way they were acting made you not want to press further. “I guess you must have gotten a new toy then, huh?”

Sitting where Eddie’s nightstand was is a cabinet stereo system, decked out with a record player on top and shelves to put cassettes and records underneath. You couldn’t say for sure but it looked brand new, either way it would have cost Uncle Ben a pretty penny to buy it. 

“Yeah,” he says with an airy giggle, the empty cassette in his hands. It catches you off guard to hear him so excited, and when you look up at him, you have to do a double take. 

He’s smiling. 

For the first time in the two months that you’ve been taking care of him, he’s genuinely smiling. 

“Who are you listening to?” You ask, leaning in to get a better look at the case. 

“Megadeth,” he says with a grizzly voice, nodding his head to a song in his mind. 

“Ooohhh cool,” you say with genuine fascination. “I’ve heard of them but I’ve not actually sat and listened to them.”

Eddie’s hair flies as he looks up at you with a quirked brow. “You’ve heard of them?”

You nod, “Yeah, I think the record store where I live has been playing them though. They’re putting a new album out or something.”

“Yes! This!” He says, shaking the cassette in his hands. “It came out two weeks ago. I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to hear it.”

  “And you better give Uncle Ben a nice thank you card for it. I wondered what he’d been picking up so much over time for.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ll, uh, do my best to do that.”

“So, Eddie, what other music do you like?” You ask, wanting to give him a distraction before he slips into a bad place. His ears perk up at your question and the look he gives you makes you feel like you’re going to be standing there with him for a while. 

And you did. Long enough that Wayne was able to take a shower and get his lunch ready for work. By the time he came in to let you know he was leaving, he figured he’d find you looking bored to death and shuffling awkwardly as his nephew droned on about his music knowledge. 

But, what he found instead was you sitting in Eddie’s chair, leaning into him intently as he animatedly speaks about whatever band he’s gotten started on. Wayne knows how Eddie can get once he gets started. But you don’t look bored at all like he probably has at times. 

In fact, Wayne would dare to say you have a bit of a sparkle in your eyes as you gaze up at his nephew. 

“Hey, kids, I’m heading out,” he calls into the room, grabbing both of your attentions instantly.

“What?” You ask, turning to look back at the clock on the dresser. “Oh my god, it’s been an hour and a half already? Eddie, you still need to eat dinner.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wayne waves a hand, “I have a pizza on its way.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie looks at Wayne with a pinched brow. “You gave someone our address?”

“Boy, just trust me, okay? You know I wouldn't let just anybody bring a pizza to this house.”

Your mind instantly goes to Hopper. You’ve heard Wayne and Eddie talk about him before a handful of times but you’ve never actually seen him. He’s brought things to the house for Eddie before when you’ve not been there, leaving you very curious about him.

“Okay, if you say so.” Eddie says with a roll of his eyes. 

Right on que, a knock raps against the door with a rapid urgency. It makes you jump, something the younger Munson notices but doesn’t comment on.

“That must be the delivery boys,” Wayne says with a sly smile before leaving the room. Eddie looks at you with a quirked brow, wording ‘boys?’ at you with confusion. 

As you go to inspect what Wayne is up to, you hear the loud voices of boys as they begin to file into the house. The entryway fills with 6 or 7 bodies of all different ages and sizes, all of them wearing the same baseball style tee shirt with a red devil face on the front. 

“Hellfire…” you say to yourself, reading the shirts before letting out a gasp. Your feet carry you down the hall where you look amongst the group.

“Bring the pizza in here boys,” hear Wayne say from the kitchen, “Jeff and Grant, come n’help me get this table setup for ya.”

You watch as two of the older boys go into the kitchen followed by the one still carrying the pizza, leaving the younger ones to finish kicking off their shoes. One of them finally notices you and straightens before turning to grab the shirt of a taller boy behind him. 

“Oh shit, it’s you!” You recognize his voice. Mike Wheeler shoves another boy with curly hair next to him, who curses and turns to face you as well. He says your name like it’s a question, sussing you out before getting excited.

“In the flesh,” you say, gesturing towards yourself. 

“Hell yeah,” he says in his giggly voice. “We didn’t know if you were gonna be here or not.”

“I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here at all!”

“What really?” Mike says with a scrunched nose.

“That would be cause’a me.” Wayne leans through the threshold, that sly smile still on his face. “I didn’t tell ya in case ya told Ed. Sorry, hope this is alright. Dustin told me he’d been callin’ and that Eddie wouldn’t talk to em, so I figured he couldn’t ignore em if they was already here.”

Eddie’s bell rings from his room, and Eddie and Mike visibly perk up.

“Is that him?” Dustin asks excitedly.

“Yeah, he’s back in his room. Come on,” you say as you turn on your heel. Giddy with excitement, you couldn’t wait to see Eddie’s face when he got to see his friends. Them being here on top of getting his stereo system? It’s almost like it’s…his…

“Is today Eddie’s birthday?” You quickly stop to face the boys that had followed you down the hall, causing them to almost run into you. 

“What, no?” Dustin says confused, “His birthday’s not til May.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Okay good. Sorry, he’s right in here—”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eddie’s slightly strained voice called from the other side of the door. You could hear a tinge of panic in his tone, and it hit you that all he could hear was loud noise with no context while he’s stuck in his bed.

“Wait right—”

“EDDIEEEEEEEE!” Dustin shouts, stepping past you and pushing the bedroom door open. Mike follows behind and the quiet boy with him gives a soft sorry as he files in behind him.

“Wait, where’s that bastard at?!” The older boys come running out of the kitchen, pushing each other until they stumble into Eddie’s room as well. 

Eddie’s bed has a living wall around it, bodies blocking your ability to see his face. Before you can go in to check on him, Wayne calls for you from down the hall, a pizza crust in his hand. 

“Hey, he didn’t get his pain meds for the night yet. Figured he would be too tired and end up being grumpy by the time they got here, so I held off on it. Obviously if he needs em he can have him, but he seemed pretty distracted with his cassette to notice any pain.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say with a nod. “I’ll probably have him take them after they eat with his other meds.” You pause for a moment, putting a hand on Wayne’s arm. “If I had to take a guess, he’s probably going to be grumpy anyway, but…he’ll thank you for it eventually.” 

He gives you a nod before gathering his lunch and heading out for the night. A chorus of guffaws from down the hall had your interest piqued. But, as you made it to the doorway, you felt like your stomach was in your throat as you watched the boys trying to get Eddie into his wheelchair, one arm around the shoulders of two of his friends while another was holding onto his ankle.

“Woah, woah, pump the brakes there guys,” you say running to them. The boys all look at you collectively, then look to Eddie. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine!” Eddie laughs. His eyes were creased from how hard he was smiling and his laugh filled you with a fluffy feeling. 

“I can tell you’re fine, but I don’t want you to get hurt and have to send these guys home.” Just as quickly as they had tried to lift him, they sat him gently back down so he was sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Sorry to be the party pooper, but once he’s in the chair he’s free game.”

“So, are you gonna introduce us or what, dude?” One of the boys finally asks as you get Eddie situated to put in his chair. He lets out a sigh, avoiding your eyes, saying your name to the group of boys. “She’s my…caretaker.” There was a bit of hesitation in that last word, but you ignored it. 

He said your name again as if speaking to you this time, “This is the Hellfire Club. I guess you know Dustin, Mike, and Will already,” he says gesturing to the three younger boys who all wave and smile in their own way. “And these boneheads double as my old band members; Jeff, Grant, and Gareth.” The older guys nod and give their hellos, still giving Eddie a knowing look.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Finally.” Eddie gives you a deadpanned look before you lift him to pivot in his chair, making you almost fall into him as you do. He plops in his chair and unlocks it, and you step aside so that he can back away from the bed. 

“Oh, let me push you!”

“No, I wanna push him!”

You roll your eyes, and watch as the boys file out of Eddie’s room and into the hallway.

“Man, we really need to get you some decorations for your room,” the last boy calls as he looks around. That gives you an idea, and you grab the one named Gareth by the arm. He looks at you with wild eyes, standing nervously in front of you. “W-whats up?” He attempts to ask with a slight shake in his voice.

“What kind of things does he like?” You ask the nervous boy, looking him straight in the eye.

“W-what?”

“For his room. I want to get him some things but don’t know what to be looking for when I’m out.”

“Oh, um…He likes metal music. And he used to have a bunch of band shirts. Mostly Black Sabbath, Dio, Metallica…But he also likes Dungeons and Dragons. But I guess that’s obvious. Oh, and The Hobbit series.”

“Like Lord of the Rings?” You ask. 

He nods, “Yeah. He carried a copy of The Hobbit with him everywhere. It was practically falling apart, b-but he loved it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you think. “Thank you, Gareth,” you say, and he takes that as the OK for him to go, sprinting out the bedroom door.

“Oh, man, dude,” Dustin says from the table, mouth full of pizza “Wait until you see what Jeff’s got planned.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, “Jeff has been keeping us on our toes. We’ll definitely need your help to get through this session.”

“I don’t know,” Jeff says, loading his plate with pizza and cheesy bread, “what I have on the agenda for tonight might be the end for this group of folly.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jeff. Just because I’ve been out of commission doesn’t mean that I don’t know all the tricks in the book.” Eddie says from his spot on the table. 

You maneuver around the boys as they get their plates and drinks. Someone had already gotten Eddie a plate and a cup full of a fizzy drink, which, thankfully, was way too dark to be one of the beers that you see sitting on the counter. It was in a regular solo cup though.

“Eddie,” you call from across the counter, and he looks up at you carefully. “Do you want a straw?” You ask, opening the counter above you. Looking out of the corner of your eyes, you see the boys have stopped talking, eyes looking everywhere except for Eddie as if trying to gauge his reaction but not make it obvious.

It takes him a moment to respond. “Um, yes, please.” He says quietly, hands in his lap as he leans in to look at the paper sitting in front of him. Grant sits on one side of him, leaning in and pointing out something about his character sheet which in turn breaks the silence among the table. 

When you round the table to bring his straw, you place it in his cup and he gives you a quiet thanks again. You nod, but can’t help to notice that he hasn’t eaten any of his pizza. 

Not wanting to draw too much attention to him again, you lean into his ear with a low voice. “Do you need me to cut up your pizza?” He doesn’t move at first, but subtly shakes his head enough for you to notice. You take your lip between your teeth and nod, backing away.

Once their game gets going, you grab your pizza and head into the living room, putting on your headphones and cracking open your textbook. You can’t help but look over at the table for every loud noise that they made, which was a lot, but you didn’t want to be too distracted in case Eddie needed you.

Things seemed like they were going well, until out of the corner of your eye you saw Grant jump up from his seat looking down between him and Eddie. The paper plate and Eddie’s pizza slice were both face down on the floor. You pulled your headphones off quickly, scrambling to your feet to clean the mess.

“Woah,” Grant says when you appear from behind him. “I can get it. It’s no biggie.”

Eddie’s face looked forlorn, still staring down at the place where Grant was wiping the red sauce with a paper towel. 

“Let me get you another slice,” Dustin said, rising from his seat.

“No,” Eddie said, voice almost panicked. “It’s fine, I don’t—I don’t need any.” 

“You barely even got to eat this piece,” Grant said with a questioning tone as he tossed the dirty piece away. 

“I’m getting you another piece.”

“Eddie.”

His panicked eyes met yours, and you could see the breakdown bubbling inside of him. His head was shaking, mouth opening and closing but the words weren’t coming out. Tears rolled down his cheeks. You’d never seen him get this upset before. 

You put a hand on either cheek and made him focus on you. “Eddie, it’s fine. No one here is upset with you. It’s just a slice of pizza. There’s, like, two more whole pizza’s over there. Dustin is going to get you another piece. Do you want me to cut it up for you? You should be able to pick up the smaller pieces.” He looks between your eyes before nodding finally. You give him a reassuring smile and take your hands from his face. 

“I’ll get you a refill, too,” you say, ignoring the tension in the room and continuing on like nothing happened. Dustin handed you the new plate when you walked by, trading it for the cup you had to refill. Grant took his place back next to Eddie and the table started to talk again. 

“Here you go,” Dustin says, reaching across the table to set Eddie’s drink back in front of him. “And here is an extra cup to roll your dice in.” You watch Eddie eye the cup before pinching it between his fingers. He gives a small thanks and the table moves on, becoming so engrossed in the game once again that no one even notices when you place the new plate on the table. Eddie mindlessly picks at the cut pieces as Jeff gives a speech about a cave having a hoard of something inside of it.

A hand waves in front of your face, pulling your attention from the textbook. When you look up, you see Dustin, Mike and Will peering over you. And out of the corner of your eye you see Jeff, Grant, and Gareth pushing Eddie’s chair down the hall.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, pulling your headphones down and around your neck. 

“Bathroom break!” Gareth shouts.

“Do you need my help?” You call back.

“Nope!”

These boys are going to kill you.

“What are you studying for?” Will turns his head to try and see the contents of your book.

“Oh, this is my medical terminology book. I’m in nursing school.” The three boys give a collective ‘ooooohh’ that makes you laugh. “It’s pretty interesting, but I don’t think you guys would like it all that much.”

“Hey, we like science stuff,” Dustin says.

“Yeah, he goes to a science camp every summer.”

“To see my girlfriend!”

“Yeah that’s totally the only reason,” Will chimes in with a roll of his eyes.

“Wow, Dustin has a science camp girlfriend, huh?” You say teasingly.

“She’s not just my science camp girlfriend. I talk to her on my ham radio, too. She lives in a different state.”

“And she’s Mormon.”

“Yeah, her dad doesn’t like us talking so we have to be sneaky. Mike has a girlfriend, too.”

“Does she also live in another state where she can only be accessed via radio?”

“No, she lives with Will just a little bit away from here,” Mike says, jutting his thumb back at Will. You tilt your head at the boys, confused as to what they mean.

“How far is a little bit?” You ask.

“Like, I don’t know, five—ten minutes by car?” Mike says looking at Will and Dustin who nod in agreement. “El—I mean Jane’s dad is Chief Hopper. And he’s dating Will’s mom. They live in a house that they built out here.”

Every sentence was like whiplash. That would explain why Wayne asks the chief to come out here. It would be easier if he’s so close by to come and check on Eddie. But, obviously he has a family so he can’t be here all the time. 

“Back from the bathroom! No one died!” Gareth shouts as Grant and Jeff push Eddie back into the dining room. The three younger boys rush back into the dinning room as well taking their places at the table once again.

It was almost pitch black dark when you opened your eyes, the only light coming from the clock on the stove. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. When did you fall asleep? And who put this blanket on you?

You could make out your textbook on the coffee table, and when you looked around, it seemed like the boys had cleaned up and put the table back against the wall. You jumped up from your seat suddenly, about to take off down the hall to check on Eddie when a voice from beside you made you scream.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie shouted in reaction to your shriek. You pulled the lamp cord on the table next to you and the room was lit with a low light. Eddie’s form came into focus where he sat in the recliner, eyes squinting from the brightness.

“What the hell, Eddie!” You whisper shout. “Why are you out here and not in bed?”

“I…” he stuttered, “I didn’t know if you’d hear me if I needed you. So, I just had the guys put me here. That’s all.”

You blink at him, not awake enough to fully understand, but also not fully awake enough to argue. Rubbing the sleepies from your eyes, you look at him better. He looked like he had gotten a clean set of clothes on and even had his drinking cup next to him in the chair. 

“Guess they got you set up pretty good, huh?”

He nods, shimmying in the chair as he gets settled again.

“Eddie?” He looks over at you, puzzled. “Why were you so against seeing them? Or even just talking to them? They seemed really happy to see you.” Eddie turned away from you and was quiet for several moments. He took a deep breath in and sighed.

“I was…Some of them…Some of them haven’t…seen me since…since before…” His voice was shaky. You were about to tell him that he didn’t have to explain himself, but he kept going, voice leveling out a bit when he cleared it.

“Dustin, he was there. One of the ones who…found me. But the rest of them, they haven’t seen me since before break. Since before…everything happened. And none of them have seen me like this. I’ve changed so much that…I was worried they would see me and freak out. I don’t think I could have handled that.”

“Well, they certainly didn’t seem too bothered by any of your changes. They’re a good group of friends.” Eddie nods in agreement. “Did you guys have a good time?” A big, cheesy smile spreads across Eddie's face.

“Yeah, we did. Totally kicked Jeff’s monster hoard’s asses,” he said with a laugh.

“What time did everyone leave?” You ask, looking at the clock where it reads 3am. Thank god you switched shifts.

“Dustin, Mike, and Will all left around 10:30 or 11. Hopper came and picked them up. Guess they’re all staying at Mike’s.”

You let out an exasperated grunt, throwing your head back onto the couch.

“What was that?” Eddie laughs at your dramatics.

“I missed Hopper, again! I’ve been hearing about this guy but haven’t seen him yet!”

Eddie snorts, “You’re not really missing much. He’s just this really tall dude with a bunch of scars now from being imprisoned by the Russians.”

You look at him with shock. “He was what?”

Eddie shakes his head, “After they left, my other friends stayed until like one. We talked outside for a bit. They said they want to start coming here to do Hellfire meetings every other Friday, but I told them I’d have to ask you first.”

“Why do you have to ask me?” You look at him with a furrowed brow. “If you have to ask anyone it would be Wayne.”

“I know you like to study and stuff, and I don’t want them to be a distraction for you while they’re here. Or for you to have to worry about me or whatever.”

“Oh, well, that’s really thoughtful of you Eddie. But I’m okay. If I really need to study, I’ll just go sit in your room or something.”

He nods his head, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Did you guys talk about anything else?”

Your words caught him off guard, you can tell by the blanched look on his face.

“Nope. Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“I thought it was pretty boring,” Sam said, taking a bite from the sundae he’d ordered for the two of you to split. You couldn’t decide what you wanted, so he ordered it as a way to get a little bit of everything. It was huge, and you were thankful that you didn’t have to eat it alone.

“I wouldn’t know considering you had my attention most of the movie,” you said, referring to all the stolen kisses and brief make out sessions that kept you pulled from paying attention to what you were watching. The movie was kind of boring, though, so you really couldn’t complain.

“That was my way of saving your sanity,” he says with a smirk.

“My hero,” you say with a roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, hey you got something—”

“Oh, what—”

“It’s right there,” he says pointing at your lip, “like a little hot fudge or something.”

“Did I get it?” You ask, licking your lips where he pointed.

“No, no. Here let me—” His hand cradles your face and he plants another kiss on your lips, making you squeal and giggle at his antics.

“Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” you say when you pull away. He looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes for a moment, before looking down with a bashful smile.

“Sorry, I just really like doing that.”

“What, being a dork?”

“No, kissing you,” he says seriously, “It’s nice. You’re nice.”

Heat hits your cheeks at his words. Sam has been nothing but a gentleman to you since you met. Sometimes he comes out to your car and will walk with you to your class, carrying your books for you the whole way. Other days you’ll bring him a coffee to his office when you’ve had time to stop in the mornings. 

He’s always asking questions about you, and he genuinely seems interested when you talk about yourself, not tuning out like some guys do when a girl talks about themselves. 

And when you ask questions about him he always seems to have an interesting answer. Whether it’s about his well off parents who have a summer home in Scottsdale or how he played varsity football for his high school, there was always a story within a story for him to tell you all the details about. 

You did have to admit though, that, yes, he was really nice and interesting, but maybe he really wasn’t your type? Tonya told you that it’s just your brain’s way of telling you that you can’t have anything nice. But, you just…can’t quite put a finger on it.

Still, it wasn’t enough to turn down a third date.

thank you for reading.

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Five - Lilac

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

1.2K

Warnings: hints of smut, talks of death and murder

Series Masterlist

The Dupont's weren't in the Netherlands for very long, just a week. But Max was determined to make every second with her count.

The broom closet was potentially the most unforgettable moment of Max's life. When their father's finished the meeting and Max was called back to Jos's side. It was incredibly difficult for him to concentrate on anything with a lacy, lilac underwear in his pocket.

It was easy to convince Jos to let him spend more time with her. All Max had to do was tell his father that his spending time with her and being nice to her was manipulation tactics, and Jos agreed. Max said things to his father, things that made him sick to his stomach. He knew Bunny wasn't stupid and pliable, but those words had Jos agreeing.

Max had never been the type to take a girl out for lunch or dinner. In his line of work it was easier to just sleep with them and move on. But not Bunny. He couldn't get her out of his head if he tried.

It didn't help that she looked so pretty sat across from him, sundress covered in pretty blue flowers, as she sipped her drink. She'd been saying something, but Max didn't know what, too busy admiring her to listen.

She looked at him like she was expecting an answer. "Sorry, Angel," he said, shaking himself out of it. "I was a little distracted."

He'd been staring at her the entire time, she knew. Her smile was wide, shy embarrassment written on her face as she looked down at her near empty drink. "I asked when you're coming back to Monaco," she said, using her straw to stir the drink.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when he thought. "I don't know, Angel," he answered. Angel, never Bunny. She loved it, loved the way her insides squirmed every time the name left his lips.

"Are you gonna tell me when you're back?" She asked.

Max's heart jumped, ready to leap out of his chest. She wanted him around for more than just her short stay in the Netherlands. He knew he had to get back to Monaco as soon as possible.

"Angel, I promise," he began. As soon as I'm back in Monaco, I'll come see you," he said, hand reaching across the table. He didn't know what he expected, maybe for her to place her hand in his. Not for her to start running her nails across his skin in such a soothing manner.

A shiver ran down his spine. It was a mixture of soothing and ticklish. He sucked in a breath as he turned his hand over and she began tracing patterns along the back of it. "When you come to Monaco, we'll have to do something fun," she mused. "Plus, you'll have to return my underwear to me at some point."

His eyes damn near bulged out of their sockets at that. "Holy shit, Angel," he croaked out. He checked the time on his watch, only to distract himself. But then he found himself releasing a sigh and a small 'Fuck'.

Her nails stopped moving against his palm. "What is it?" She asked.

Max closed his hand around her fingers. "I've got to get you back," he mumbled and stood, pulling her up with him. "You're going back to Monaco tonight, right?" Max asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Bunny mumbled, a pout on her pretty lips. "Are you sure we have to go now?" She asked and Max nodded his head.

Lacing her fingers through his own, she allowed herself to be pulled away from the Café max had taken for to for lunch. In that moment she wasn't Bunny, she decided. No, she was Angel.

They passed a secluded little alleyway. It wasn't pretty, not by any means, full of rubbish bins and overflowing with trash. The smell as they passed was atrocious.

But still, she gripped his hand and pulled him into the alleyway. "Angel," Max said, catching her before she could flatten herself and her pretty white and blue sundress against the dirty wall. "What are you doing?"

Her hands were around his neck as she looked up at him, giving what Max could only describe as puppy dog eyes. "I don't want to say goodbye yet," she whispered and pulled him closer.

Max let his eyes drift shut. If his Angel was kissing him, he wasn't going to complain. He just pulled her against him, keeping her flush against his body. Max knew he was giving everything over to her, but he didn't much mind.

She moved away from his lips, kissing across his jaw and down to his neck. "Fuck me," she said breathlessly. "Fuck me right here, against this wall."

But Max shook his head as he pressed his forehead to her own. "I'm not gonna fuck you in this dirty alleyway," he said and checked his watched. "Besides, I've got to get you back."

He grabbed her hand once again, but this time her pout was unmissable. It took everything Max had not to give into her. "I'm sorry, Angel," he said as they approached the Verstappen stronghold. "I promise to make it up to do in Monaco."

She let go of his hand, but for no other reason than to protect Max and herself. Them being together, it was impossible, forbidden. If Dupont found out what the daughter he'd been trying so hard to protect had been doing? It would have started an all out war.

Max was silent as he led her to his fathers office. He knocked and waited for confirmation before leading her inside. Max stood himself by the window while Angel, his Angel, went to stand by her father.

"Dupont," said Jos as he looked over at the signature on the paperwork. "I trust the shipment will arrive in the next two weeks."

"Verstappen, you have my word," said Dupont, his hand coming to rest on his daughters back. She stood straighter, but her gaze was still focused on the ground.

No more pleasantries were exchanged as Dupont and Angel were led from the office. Jos waited just long enough for them to be out of earshot before he opened his vile mouth.

"She was was delectable," he said in Dutch, and Max clenched his fists by his side. "Much more pleasant to look at than that old crone Dupont would insist on bringing everywhere he went."

If it had been anybody else talking about his Angel like that, Max would have lost it and pummelled his face beyond recognition. But he kept himself composed. "What about the business?"

"She is Dupont's only living heir, and yet she seems incapable," Jos said, ignoring Max's question. "As soon as she takes over from him, Dupont and everything he has will be ours. I've always wanted to own part of France," Jos said more to himself than anybody else.

Max's mouth went dry. He said her name. Not Angel, not Bunny, but her name. "What happens to her once you've... gotten what you want?"

Jos laughed a dry sort of laugh. "Max," he said with a shake of his head. "She'll be dead."

Permanent Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool

@rewmuslupin

@prettiest-at-the-party

@hellowgoodbye

@minseok-smaus

@formulaal

@hiireadstuff

@urfavnoirette

@goldenharrysworld

@andydrysdalerogers

@raikkxz

@llando4norris

@evlkking

@lilymurphy03

@hollie911

@customsbyjcg-blog

@honethatty12

@nikfigueiredo

@darleneslane

@not-nyasa

Series taglist (CLOSED): @doofenshmirtsevil-inc

@styl1shl1v

@dreamsarebig

@bokutos-babyowl

@minmira95

@booksandflowrs

@spookystitchery

@purplephantomwolf

@minchedchilli

@starssfall

@mellowarcadefun

@the-ghost-lovwr

@solidalibi

@graydahlia21

@st4rshine

@iloveyou3000morgan

@vicurious28

@evie-119

@bigratbitchsworld

@closestthingtocoffee

@maximofflove (tried to make this slightly longer for you lmao)

@sillygoose5

@thehufflepuffavenger1

@thatsusbitch

@annispamz

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n)'s deal with the devil to save Nobara's life (Part V)

Part 1 - 4 of the Sukuna/Yuji x Megumi's little sister series can be found here

Pairing: Megumi's little sister x Yuji/Sekuna

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: You've been through so much at Shibuya, seeing the love of you get taken over by Sukuna and finally getting him back. But this time, it will be you who begs on her knees for the king of curses to arrive in order to save your best friend's life...

Warnings: This hurts like hell lol, I miss my girl so much , as usual language, my poor baby Yuji being absolutely crushed

„I need to get moving now”, Yuji mutters while lifting his trembling frame off the ground.

“But where? Please just sit down for a while, you’ve been through so much-“

“What about the people here at Shibuya, (y/n)? Not only did they have to go through a lot, but they also lost their lives here. I can’t just sit on the ground like an idiot while my friends are out there dying.”

You hate it. The way his eyes glimmer in nothing but grief, how his face lost the spark of joy.

But especially you hate that he’s right. You can’t just stay here and let everybody else do the work. Even though you want nothing more than to rest in Yuji’s comforting arms forever, it is your responsibility to find the others and help freeing Gojo-sensei.

That doesn’t include Yuji, though.

“No, you’ve done enough here. Let me go and find Nanami, okay? You…you need to rest…Yuji?”

He steps towards you, lips forming the most heart-breaking little smile you’ve ever seen while his hand gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you more than anything else, (y/n)”, he hushes for only you to hear, making your broken heart skip a beat.

Maybe everything will turn out alright. After all, you have Yuji by your side, right? No matter what Sukuna did, no matter what the two of you have been through, you will eventually make it.

Right?

He wraps his longing arms around you, pressing your frame against his chest. You let yourself fall into his touch, allowing your eyes to rest for a moment. This. This is what makes it worth all the pain. The feeling of Yuji’s body against yours, the way his breath caresses your neck ever so slightly.

“But if someone has to go, it’s me. You are the one who has done enough and I’m so sorry I made you go through all of this shit. You will stay here.”

Your shocked eyes dart open immediately, body trying to yank away from him while he holds you in place.

“I’ll get you when all of this is over. Maybe it’s hella selfish, but I can’t afford to lose you. Anyone but you, (y/n). I’m so sorry. So so sorry.”

Bad foreshadowing crawls up your spine. What is he trying to say? You swallow hard, glossy eyes searching for an answer in his worn-out orbs. No, this can’t be.

Yuji won’t just leave you here, will he?

“Don’t go where I can’t follow love”, you literally beg him, desperate hands grabbing his face longingly.

You just got him back, your Yuji, the love of your life. And now…now he wants to leave again, even though he’s been through so much? And you…He wants you just to stay here and wait for him? You shake your head vehemently. No way in hell. You won’t let him leave alone.

“I’m so sorry…But this time, I will leave you no choice. Please don’t hate me, (y/n). I’m doing this for you…”

You aren’t able to free yourself in time. With a swift motion he yanks you through the door of a nearby building, closing the door behind him so rapidly that all you can do is grab the doorknob.

It doesn’t open.

“Yuji!”

You can’t catch your breath, fists slamming against the metal door without mercy, eyes scanning the room for another way to escape.

But there’s no other door. Fuck, not even a window. This can’t be true, your boyfriend didn’t just lock you into a random building at Shibuya…You glide down the stone-cold walls, the tears in your eyes threatening to pool over.

What if something happens out there? Sukuna must have weakened his body, would he even be able to put up a fight? And what if a grade 1 shows up. Or worse…

You have to blink a few times, panic rising inside your throbbing veins. You can’t just sit here and do nothing. Even though he begged you to stay out of this, it is your responsibility as a jujutsu sorcerer.

As his girlfriend.

You take a deep breath. Calm your tingling nerves, get out of this building, search for Yuji and fight along his side. Even though he doesn’t want you there, even though he specifically instructed you to stay right where you are.

“I’m a Fushiguro after all”, you mutter to yourself.

This wall isn’t thick enough to hold you in. A single slash with your bare fist should be enough to tumble it down. You shake out your arms, desperately try to calm down your beating heart. You have to be brave right now. For Yuji, for your big brother Megumi.

For yourself.

With a swift motion you sprint towards the high wall with neck-breaking speed, pushing through it and falling onto the harsh ground underneath. Everything hurts, it feels like your whole body is on fire. Oh, how much you’d love to lay here for a while, to just stare into the dark night sky, inspecting every minor crater on the full moon above. But your body begins moving on his own, running down the empty and destroyed streets of Shibuya in order to find Yuji. Pushing through the pain, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall down your eyelashes. This is not the time to show any weakness, especially after standing your ground so bravely against Sukuna.

Sukuna…A shiver runs down your spine just by the thought of him. How he wrapped his arms around you, the way his dark voice brushed against your sensitive skin. It’s hard to believe that you survived meeting the king of curses. You, out of all the people here at Shibuya. You, when even special grade curses lost their lives to his cruel hands. Why? Why on earth did he let you live? It still doesn’t make any sense in your foggy brain.

Your ears perk up in an instant, screams and cries echoing through the hallway you run down. It almost sounds like…

No. The urge to throw up becomes almost unbearable, legs dashing even faster despite the scorching pain that runs through your whole body. This was Yuji, without any doubt. And you never heard him scream like that in your life.

“Yuji!?”

Your very own voice echoes back and forth unpromising, feet avoiding the remains of deformed people as good as possible. All these curses, some human corpses…You swallow hard. Mahito has to be here. And if Yuji is here too…

You have to hurry.

“Yuji!”, you scream on top of your lungs, noises growing louder and louder in your ringing ears.

There. In the distance, a few metres away, a head of pink hair.

“Yuji!”

“Kugisaki, run!”

The desperate tone in his voice, Nobara who just stands there and stares at him. Mahito…Two Mahitos…

“Nobara!” you shout, throwing your knife at the version of Mahito who runs towards her out of instinct.

No, he can’t touch her. If he does, she will become a curse herself. If he does, she-

“Kugisaki”, Yuji breathes out next to you.

It was a minor touch. Just the fingertips brushing over her left eye. But certainly enough to make everyone around stop in their tracks and staring at her in utter disbelief. You aren’t a fool. Good, how much you wish you were. But this slight touch is her certain death.

“Nobara.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper. She isn’t just your classmate. No, Nobara is your friend, the only woman in class by your side, the one you shared your room with for months by know. She knows all your secrets, all your ticks, all the things that make you sad and happy. She is one of your best friends. And now. And now…

“I won’t let you die here!” you scream in frustration, eyes desperately scanning for a way out of this misery.

“Too late for that!” Mahito hollers at you.

What are you supposed to do? Are you even able to fix this? Mahito begins to laugh hysterically, imitates you in the most disrespectful way. That man…No, that creature. He is pure evil, without any doubt. Just like the king of curses himself.

Sukuna.

Your eyes widen, heart almost beating out of your chest. That man…

“Yuji.”

This is probably the worst idea you’ve had in your entire life. But Mahito, Nobara…It might be your only chance to save her.

“You need to switch with Sukuna. Right now.”

“What? What has gotten into you, (y/n)? There is no-“

“This might be the only way to save her”, you interrupt him sharply.

There is absolutely no guarantee this will work. Maybe he’ll just laugh at you like he did back then when Yuji begged for Junpei’s life. Your whole body begins to tremble, just the thought to meet Sukuna again... You shake your head vehemently, eyes darting towards the boy you love in determination.

This isn’t about you or your fears. Right now, Sukuna is the only person who can help you.

“I think I can do it. But you need to switch. Now.”

Yuji’s sharp and heavy breaths hang between the two of you, his hands grabbing yours so urgently that you can’t help but stare at him through glossy eyes.

“Promise me you’ll take me back, okay?”

“I promise”, you reply automatically.

The air around you feels thicker within the split of a second, everyone including Mahito standing death still in their tracks.

“Didn’t expect you want to see me again so early”, his dark voice comments dryly, his arm wrapping itself around your waist before you can stop it.

Your eyes meet his. The stone-cold eyes of the king of curses himself, the marks that cover the gorgeous face of your boyfriend. You want to scream at him, want to hit him with your best shot for making Yuji feel so horrible. God, how much you hate that man for what he did to him, how much you want him to pay for every sinful word, for every person he killed.

But instead, you take a deep breath in.

“I’m begging you to use your reversed technique on my friend.”

He tilts his head, a sly grin creeping up his face. Oh, so that’s what’s going on here. He has to admit, it was very brave of you to call him here. Don’t you know what he did back then when that brat asked him to heal that boy? Why on earth should the king of curses heal a pathetic human being?

“Well well, look who needs my help. Why would I do that, sweetheart, huh? Why on earth would I heal another of you brats?”

“Because I ask you to”, you reply in an instant, glossy eyes looking with his.

Your hands cup his cheeks. Fuck the way your whole body screams in your face to stop immediately, fuck the way tears start to spill out of your eyes again. This is about your dear friend, about Nobara. And you’ll do anything on earth to prevent her from dying.

“You mean like that?”

His hand brushes ever so slightly over a minor cut on your cheek, making it disappear in an instant. Your heart hammers against your chest, eyes widen in nothing but hope and determination. So he really is able to heal others. That means he can save Nobara too, right? He just has to.

“Please heal her. She’s one of my closest friends. Please Sukuna”, you breathe out.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Was it the fear that radiated to your veins, the overwhelming feeling of standing on the brink of losing it all? You can’t put a finger on it.

But before you are able to stop yourself, you throw yourself against his firm body, puffy cheek resting against his chest.

What is this feeling rising up inside his chest? Why does his heart suddenly skip a beat, why does your sudden touch run shivers down his spine? You, the girl he laid his eyes on my months ago. You, the bravest girl he ever witnessed, who threatened to kill herself if he hurts one of your friends.

You, now laying in his arms, completely shattered by the thought of losing your friend. But what is he supposed to do? Back then all he was able to do was laughing hysterically at the brat begging him to safe his stupid little friend. Yes, nothing seems more ridiculous to Ryomen Sukuna than saving human’s lives. But the way you silently sob against his chest, your eyes widen in nothing but horror and consumed by darkness…

Why does it make his fingertips twitch? Why does he want to chase away your tears?

“I will help you”, he finally speaks out.

Did he…Did he really say that? Your eyes dart towards him immediately, hope glistening in your orbs. Oh, you look truly lovely like that.

“But only under one condition.”

Your thoughts begin to race all over again. Of course, he wouldn’t help you without something in return. Maybe it was a mistake to ask him for aid, maybe you should just call Shoko, maybe it is too late anyway…

No.

Don’t second-guess yourself.

“I will do anything you want.”

“Anything, huh?”

“Anything”, you confirm without hesitation.

“Gift me your heart. Swear that you’ll never leave my side. Enter into a contract with me that binds you to me forever.”

You can’t believe your ears, ground pulled underneath your feet. That would mean…You feel like fainting when the true meaning behind his words hits you. You would be his slave until the end of time, until someone is actually able to defeat Ryomen Sukuna. You’d be cursed for life.

Is it really worth this? If Megumi and Yuji were here right now, they’d scream into your face, begging you to just walk away, search for another way out of this misery. Never in his life, Yuji would have allowed you to make a deal with the devil himself in exchange for another life. Not you, not the love of his life. Not you, the precious sister of Megumi. You don’t deserve this fate, you don’t deserve to be cursed like this.

But you have to make a decision.

“I will do anything you want.”

“I need you to swear it.”

He walks towards Nobara who just stands there and stares at both of you in horror.

“(y/n), don’t…don’t do that”, she breathes out.

You want to break down, scream out in agony, run away and never come back.

“I swear I will do anything you want if you save her.”

But instead, you just stand there and watch him grab Nobara’s face roughly with a single tear running down your face. Is this a new beginning or the end of it all?

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, (y/n). You will stay with me until both of us die.”

Tags: @certainduckanchor @sanemiswifeyxo1  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez

[joybabyjune]

Unexpected Snow

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

Summery: When you try to hide from a heavy snowstorm in a motel, you find out that all the rooms are taken. Frank offers you his room, but you can’t let him sleep in his truck. You get him into your room and into your bed 👀

Warnings: explicit (minors dni!!!), big age gap (reader is 21, Frank in in his late 40’s), pet names (Sweetheart, sweet girl, good girl, pretty girl), no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, harassment (not from Frank), smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv (be smart friendsss), little bit of praise kink, little bit of degradation kink, dirty talk, creampie.

Author’s note: alright I really wanted to participate in the Beardthalbash thing. So I wrote this. I hope you guys like it. If you do, please let me know with a note and if you really like it, please reblog. You’ll make my day and it’s completely freeee.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language + I kind of wrote this pretty quickly because of the Beardthalbash deadline. Don’t hate me for any mistakes ✌🏼

Masterlist

“Why?!” You yell out angrily, slamming your steering wheel and accidentally pressing the horn. “Oh shit..” You sink lower into your seat and wave a little apology at the car beside you. The lady on the radio continues talking. She goes on about the upcoming snowstorm and you really start to realize that you won’t make it to your destination. “Why today..” You whine to yourself.

After living with your alcoholic mother, and all the different men she brought in your life over the years, you finally decided that it was time for you to leave. You packed your bags, got into your car, closed your eyes and pointed your finger somewhere on your map to pick a location for you to start a new life.

You’ve been driving for a few hours now and the weather is getting worse and worse. You can feel your car struggling against the wind and the road surface slowly turns white with the snow that’s falling. Your wipers are working overtime and the windows fog over. “Fucking hell.” You mutter and turn off the radio, you’re done with the slight tone of panic in the weather reporter’s voice.

A few miles ago you saw a sign that said there was a motel nearby and you sigh in relieve when you see the exit towards it. “Lets just hope this only lasts ‘till the morning..” You say as you drive onto the parking lot. It is fully packed, but you find a spot. It’s not exactly near the entrance, but you take it. You get out of the car and are immediately hit by a gust of snowy wind. You run over to the reception and quickly get inside.

There’s a line of people, all trying to get a room and you quietly join the queue. It doesn’t take long before it’s your turn and you reach into your bag for your money. “One single room please..” You say while you look.

“I’m sorry ma’am but we’re fully booked for the night.” The lady behind the counter tells you. “There’s another motel a couple of miles away. If you want, I can call them to see if they still have a room?”

“W-what?” You ask frowning. You look out of the window, the weather has gotten even worse and there’s no way you can safely drive any further. “You have nothing?” You ask, slightly panicking.

“I’m afraid so..” She answers.

“Can stay with me, pretty thing..” You hear a voice drawl behind you. You turn around and see a man smirking at you. You take in his appearance and your stomach turns at the idea of having to sleep with him to have a place to stay. He must be in his sixties, his blonde-grayish hair sticks to his forehead and his mustache turned yellow under his nose due to years of smoking. There’s stains on the flannel that’s way to tight around his beer belly. “Got room for you in my bed, I mean..” He adds as his watery eyes glide over your body.

“N-no thank you.” You say nervously, deciding that it’s not worth it.

“Oh come on, Princess, can’t go out in weather like that..” He says nodding towards the window. He walks closer to you and you’re overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, stale beer and ashtray. It brings you back to all the times your mother’s boyfriends would try to get handsy with you. “Promise I’m not a serial killer.” He says laughing and displaying his yellow teeth.

“N-no, I’m good, really..” You say again and he reaches out to touch your face but you back away.

“She said no, asshole.” A voice behind you barks. You turn around and see a big, attractive looking man. Dark hair, dark eyes, well groomed beard. He radiates danger, but for some reason he makes you feel safe. “Leave her alone.”

“And who the fuck are you?” The creep asks him. “Who are you to decide what I should do. Keep it to yourself and let me have my fun with this one.” He adds and tries to reach out for your waist this time.

Your savior grabs his wrist and turns it, making him cry out in pain. “Go to your room and leave the girl alone.” He says, his voice a whispered growl.

“Ah ah ah, okey okey!” He says trying to free his arm. Once he succeeds he holds up his hands. “Alright. She’s all yours man. Not worth the fucking trouble.” He says, looking you up and down as he walks away.

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling dirty with how looked at you and spoke about you. “Thanks..” You say looking at the floor.

“Here. Take my room.” He says and hands you a key.

You frown. “W-what? But where are you gonna-“

“Slept in worse conditions. I’ll be fine.” He says. “Take the keys, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” You say looking up at him. Not really sure why it bothers you.

He huffs a laugh and smirks a little at your stubbornness. “Just take the keys and be safe, okey?”

“We can-“ You start. “We can share the room.” You say taking in his appearance and not minding his company.. “I’m not comfortable with letting you drive in this weather either.”

“I’m not driving, I’ll just crash in my truck.” He says. “I’ll be okey ki-, sweetheart. Trust me.”

You smile a little at how he caught himself when he was gonna call you kid again. “But-“

“Go.” He presses. “Get your stuff before the weather gets even worse and I’m not even gonna let you get back to your car.” He smirks teasingly.

“O-okey, thanks a lot, ehh..”

“Frank.”

“Thanks a lot, Frank.” You smile and take the keys from him, quickly shoving a fifty dollar bill in his hand for the costs of the room.

“You don’t need t-“ He starts, looking at the money.

“You will take it.” You cut him off and you quickly walk away before he can say something else.

You hold your hands above your head to shield you from the snow while you run to your car. It does absolutely nothing to protect you, but there’s not really a better option available at the moment.

Luckily you fit al your belongings in a single suitcase and a backpack, so you don’t have to haul a lot of luggage. You grab your stuff and run as best as you can towards the rooms. The wheels on your cheap suitcase have trouble with the speed and the think layer of snow that has formed on the floor. You quickly look at the worn leather tag that’s attached to the key. “23..” You mutter the room number. The room in front of you has a big 18 on the door. You follow the wall to your left. “19.. 20.. 21..” You mutter to yourself as you pass the doors. The sound of a car door slamming closed catches your attention and you look over to the parking lot. It’s the guy who gave you his room. Frank. You squint your eyes to look inside his truck and see how he’s wrapped himself in a blanket. You bite your lip, feeling guilty and hold up your hand in a mixture of greeting, thanking and apologizing. He waves back and juts his chin in the direction of your room, telling you without words, to go inside.

You rush inside and look around. It’s a bit dated with the terrible green and orange wallpaper and worn out wooden furniture, but it’s nice and warm which is the only important thing for the night. You look around, but there’s not much to see. A bed, a tv, a desk with a chair and thank god, a minibar. You open the door to the bathroom, and peer inside. “Fucking hell..” You laugh through your nose when you see the puke green shower cabin. “Who would choose that..?”

You decide that going to bed early will make it feel like the time goes faster so that you can hopefully be on your way again before you know it. You fish some clean underwear and a big t-shirt from your suitcase to sleep in and head into the bathroom for a shower.

The hot water feels good on your skin and it’s the first time today that you relax a little bit. Your mind drifts to Frank in his truck and you really feel guilty. He helped you out big time and now he’s out there in the cold. You figure you could at least invite him in for a beer or something. If he really doesn’t want to share the room, he can always go back to his truck after that. You turn off the shower and quickly dry and dress yourself.

You peek through the curtains and see that he’s still awake, reading some book. You bite your lip and wave to get his attention, but he doesn’t notice you. “Fuck..” You mutter to yourself and move to open the door. “Frank!” You yell, shivering from the cold. Goosebumps forming on your bare legs. “Frank!”

He looks up and his eyes widen. He rolls down his window. “What the hell are you doing?!” He yells. “Go inside!”

“Come in here!” You yell back. “Warm up a bit, h-have a beer, take a sh-shower, whatever.. Y-you can go back to sleep in your truck after, j-just come in for a while.” You say shivering. “W-won’t take no f-for an answer.”

“Fucking hell..” He curses, wiping a hand over his face in annoyance and quickly gets from the car. “Alright, alright. Just go inside!” He says while he grabs a duffel bag from the backseat.

You smile to yourself, happy to get what you want and you quickly get inside, leaving the door open for him.

“What’s wrong with you.” He growls when he gets inside and quickly closes the door behind him.

“Felt guilty.” You answer shrugging as you sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Gotta be more careful with people if you’re gonna be traveling alone, little girl.” He says and drops his bag on the floor. “Don’t even know me.”

You pout a little, knowing that he’s right. “You gave me your room instead of offering to share like that creep.” You justify your actions. “Guess that makes you a good man, right?”

He huffs as if he doesn’t really agree with you.

“So…” You say skeptically. “Are you like.. Gonna kill me or something?”

He laughs quietly. “No, Sweetheart, you’re good.”

“Good. And I won’t kill you, so that’s settled then.” You say. “And I’m not a little girl by the way, I’m 21.”

He laughs. “Alright, I’m sorry.” He says holding up his hands in a mock excuse.

“There’s towels in the bathroom.” You say while you get up to look in the mini fridge. “The water is nice. And here..” You say when you open the fridge. “Here we have some beers, some nuts and some chocolates.”

“You don’t have to do this.” He says. “I’m fine in my truck.”

“Stop it. I’m not letting you stay out there.” You say, leaving no room for discussion.

“Alright.” He says, rubbing his neck. He grabs his bag and takes some clothes out to bring into the bathroom.

You grab yourself a beer and lie down on the lumpy bed. “Let’s see what the weather is gonna do..” You mutter to yourself while turning on the tv.

“Conditions are getting worse and worse outside and it does not look like this storm is going to settle anytime soon. Specialists are calling it the worst snow storm in years. You’re advised to stay inside and-“ The weather lady gets cut off by a shirtless Frank who opens the bathroom door.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of his ripped body, he slicks his wet hair back and water drips from his beard onto his chest. You rasp your throat and look away. “‘M sorry, didn’t think to bring one to the bathroom.” He says as he grabs a tank top and pulls it over his head.

You’re suddenly very aware of your lack of pants. Sure the t-shirt you’re wearing is big enough to be called a dress, but it still only reaches your mid thigh. “I can, eh, I can put on pants if you-“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says while taking a beer from the fridge. He grabs the chair, sitting down on it with his legs spread. “‘S your room, should wear what you want, right.”

You nod towards the tv, changing the subject of your clothing, or the lack thereof, to the weather reporter. “Says it might be the worst storm in like.. Ever..” You say. “Well, maybe not ever.. But in years.”

“-cold temperatures like this can be deadly, so please be careful and stay inside if possible.” The weather lady continues on the tv.

“See. It’s dangerous out there. Think it would be considered murder if I let you sleep out there in your truck and you die tonight?”

“Nahh..” Frank says smirking. “Sooo.. What’s the deal with you? You running from something or towards something?” He asks waving a hand at your luggage.

“Who says I’m running?” You ask biting your lip.

Frank raises his eyebrows and tilts his head, telling you it’s pretty obvious without words.

You sigh and look away. “From something I guess.. I don’t know, just.. Just need a fresh start, you know?”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding. “Get that..”

“What about y-“ You start but you’re interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. “The fuck..” You mumble nervously and you pull your legs up to your chest.

There’s another loud knock and you see Frank grabbing a gun from his bag. “Wha-? W-why do you have that?” You whisper yell.

Frank places his finger against his lips to tell you to shut up and he walks to the door. “Hey Princes!” You hear the slurred voice of the creep from before and another loud knock on the door. Frank’s body visibly relaxes, he places the gun in his waistband on his back and he yanks open the door.

“The fuck did I tell you, huh?” He growls.

“Y-you?” He asks confused. He sounds very drunk. “Saw the -hic- saw the girl go in here..”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Frank says angrily. “Now.”

Seeing Frank protect you like that kind of turns you on. And the way the muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tenses in anger when the guy doesn’t leave straight away. Fuck.. The beer and that fact that you haven’t gotten any action in a while also don’t help.

“If you wanna live, you go to your room now and you don’t come out till the morning.” Frank rasps in a low voice.

You should be scared of this stranger with a gun, threatening someone’s life, but you’re not.

“Alright.. Jesus..” You hear the guy slur and you’re guessing he walks away.

“Yeah, that’s right..” Frank rasps before closing the door, placing the gun on the desk and sitting down again. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he takes a sip of his beer and you squeeze your thighs together.

“T-thanks. Don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.” You say. “Good thing I got you in here, huh?” You add, smiling and winking playfully. Maybe even flirtatiously.

“Yeah yeah..” He huffs a laugh.

“First you save me by giving me your room and then you help me get a creep away from that room..” You say getting on your knees on the edge of the bed and looking up at him through your lashes. You’re pretty sure your nipples are showing through your shirt. “How can I ever repay you..?”

“How can ya-?” He looks off to the side, licks his lips and looks back at you. “Listen, Sweetheart.. You don’t have to do this. ‘S not why I helped you.”

“I know I don’t have to..” You say and you bite your lip, looking at his crotch. You think the bulge has grown a little already.

“Y-you already gave me money for the room and let me use your shower..” You can tell he’s getting a little nervous.

“Huh.. That’s right..” You say smirking at the realization. “Maybe.. Maybe you should thanks me then..” You’ve never been this forward in your life, but you kind of like it. There’s no going back now and you lift your t-shirt over your head.

“Fuck..” Frank growls softly as he takes in your appearance. The only thing covering you is a tiny black thong. “Sweetheart..” He pleads a little, but he gets up and walks your way. He places two fingers under your chin and pushes your head back, making sure you look up at him. “You sure?”

“Please..” You say panting.

He growls a little and moves his hands to your bare tits. “These are perfect..” He says as he squeezes them a little before rolling the hard nipples between his fingers.

You moan softly and arch your back, pushing against his hands. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he leans forward and sucks one hard little peak into his mouth.

“Yesss..” You moan louder as you feel his warm tongue slide over your skin. He bites gently and your eyes roll back in your head. “Fuckkk..” His beard scratches against your skin, but it only adds to the pleasure.

“Like that, little girl?” He asks.

“Not a little-“

“Yeah y’are.. A bad little girl.. Seducing men over twice her age..” He mumbles against your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. Giving it the same attention as the first one.

“Oh fuck..” You whine, your belly clenching at his words. “Don’t usually.. I.. I’m a good girl..” You pant.

He gets up and pulls the tank top over his head. “Good girl, huh? That right?”

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes.

He slowly undoes the strings of his shorts. “Gonna show me how good of a girl y’are, hm?”

You swallow thickly. “Y-yes..” You say nervously and move back on the bed so you can lean forward on your elbows, your face level with his crotch. “P-please..”

He growls and pushes the shorts down together with his boxers. A big, rock hard cock springs free. It’s thick and veiny with a nice, large, pre cum leaking head. Your mouth waters and you moan loudly. “So big..” You whine and take him in your hand. “Fuck..” You swallow thickly as your feel that he’s too big to wrap your finger around the shaft.

“You can handle it though, right, Sweetheart?” He teases and gently lays his hand on the back of your head tangling his fingers in your hair.

“Gonna try..” You say while you start stroking him. You look up at him while you stick out your tongue and lick the pre cum from his tip, lightly tonguing the little slit before swirling your tongue all around the head.

“F-fuck..” He hisses.

You contemplate if you should tease a little more, but you’re too inpatient. You smile up at him and slowly let him slide into your mouth. Your lips stretch tightly around his girth and you moan.

“That’s it.. That’s a good girl..” He groans as you take him as deep as you can, until he pushes against your throat.

You moan and your eyes roll back in your head at his words. You’ve never been with anyone who talked to you like this and you really like it.

You start sucking him slow and deep, letting your saliva drip down his shaft. You stroke the part that doesn’t fit in your mouth with one hand and gently fondle his balls with the other. The muscles in his stomach clench and his hips buck forward. The movement pushes his cock against your throat and you gag. “Fuck ‘m sorry.. Been a while..”

You smile around him and moan. “Oh you like that, huh?” He asks and he thrusts deep into your mouth. You gag again. Your eyes roll back and you moan. You love the way he takes control, the way he uses your mouth, your throat, for his pleasure. “Yeahh.. See, just a dirty, bad little girl.. Want me to fuck your face, hm?”

You try to say yes with his cock in your mouth, but all that comes out is some gurgles, so you nod. He growls and starts thrusting. “That’s it.. Take that fucking cock..”

You gag and choke. Your eyes are watery as you look up at him and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. Never been this wet.

“Gonna make me cum like that..” He groans. His hand tightens in your hair and he pulls out.

“Hmmmm.” You protest and you try to keep him in, but let go with a pop.

You pout and he chuckles. “I was supposed to be thanking you, remember?” He asks, gently stroking himself.

“Y’are..” You say, your voice a bit hoarse. “Think I’m doing this for you?” You tease smirking. “No.. This is for me.. And now I want my treat..” You add and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue.

He laughs through his nose and shakes his head in disbelieve. “Gonna take a minute before I can go again if I do that. ‘M not 18 anymore, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t care..” You say. “Please..” You add before sucking him back in your mouth hungrily.

Frank growls loudly. Rambling while you determinedly suck him off, stroking what you can’t fit in your mouth. “Fuck.. You want it, Sweetheart? Want my cum? Such a good girl.. Yeah, don’t stop.. Sweet girl.. Fuckkkk!”

Thick, hot cum coats your tongue and squirts against the back of your throat. You moan and swallow everything. Fuck that was hot.. You slowly and gently suck a little more, trying to get every last drop without overstimulating him. “F-fucking hell..” He groans softly. You let his softening member slide from your mouth and smile up at him proudly. He smiles back at you lazily, showing the crow’s feet next to his eyes, and caresses your cheek. “That was amazing..” He pants. He immediately looks more light and relaxed.

“Yeah?” You tease, biting your lip and getting up, sitting back on your heels.

“Yeah..” He says and he almost sounds a little shy. “Your turn now..” He says as he gets on the bed and guides you on your back with him on top of you. He gently grabs your jaw and leans in to kiss you. The scratching of his beard against your chin and cheeks is pleasant in contrast with his soft lips. His tongue darts out and flicks over your bottom lip, silently asking to let him in. You open your mouth and your tongues dance together in a passionate kiss. His free hand moves between your bodies to your dripping center and he growls. “Oh, Sweetheart.. You’re soaking..” He mutters against your lips

You buck your hips into his hand. “P-please..” You pant. You need more.. A lot more..

“Did sucking me off make you this wet, Sweetheart?” He teases a little.

You don’t answer, just moan.

“Can I take these off?” He asks playing with the hem of your panties.

“Please..” You say. You’re the shy one now. l

He sits up, hooks his thumbs in the lacy fabric and you lift your hips, so he can slide them down your legs. He throws them on the floor. “Open up, pretty girl..” He says and he slides his hand from your knees to the insides of your thighs spreading you open for him. He growls loudly. “Such a pretty pussy.. Wanna taste you, Sweetheart.. You want that? Want my tongue, sweet girl?”

“Y-yes, Frank.. Please.. Need it so badddd..” The last word is dragged out as he slowly slides his flat tongue through the full length of your slit. “Holy shit..” You moan.

He growls loudly. “Hmmmm.. You taste so good..” He slides his tongue through your lips a few more times, pushing it inside of you a couple of times, before swirling it around your clit. His tongue soft, warm and wet against your sensitive skin.

“Ooh, Frank! Fuck! Y-your good at that!” Your hips buck and he holds you down, growling. He slowly pushes two fingers inside you and sucks your clit into his mouth. “Holy.. Fuck!” He hooks his fingers inside you, massaging the spongy skin at your front wall while sucking and licking on your clit. You see stars. “Frank I’m gonna.. Please don’t stop! I’m gonna..” You fist your hand in his hair, holding on for dear life.

“Do it..” He hums against your skin. “Cum on my tongue..”

You cry out loudly as you explode. “Yessss!! Oh fuck!”

“Hmmm..” He growls as he laps up your juices. “Good girl.. Good girl.. Fuck I need to be inside you..”

“Yess.. Need you.. Please..” You pant and you try to pull him up at his shoulders. He moves over you, forearms on either side of your head, caging you in and kisses you again, hungrily. You taste yourself in his mouth and the hairs from his beard are wet with your slick.

He’s hard again and you can feel him against your groin. He moves his hand between your body’s and aligns himself with your opening. “Ready, Sweetheart?” He asks looking into your eyes.

“Yes.. Give it to me..” You pant.

“Eyes on me.” He says and slowly but surely sinks inside of you. “Fuck..” He hisses. “So tight..”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh Frank..” You moan. “So big.. So good..”

He slowly starts fucking you. His jaw is slack and he looks at you like he’s in awe. “Please, kiss me..” You moan and he happily obliges. It’s amazing and it feels like the two of you have known each other since forever.

“You feel so good..” He growls against your lips and speeds up his thrusts, making you cry out a little. “This okey?” He asks between kisses and he moves his hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“M-more.. Harder, please..” You moan.

“Yeah?” He asks, lifting up his head to look you in the eyes. You nod and he nods back before speeding up his thrusts even more, properly pounding you now. You can feel him slamming against your cervix and it feels absolutely amazing.

“Oh F-Frank! Fuck!” You cry out loudly. You can feel yourself nearing another orgasm. “Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

He growls. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock?!” He asks never slowing his pace.

“Yes!! Oh Frank!!!” You squeeze your thighs around him tightly and lose yourself in your orgasm. “Yessss!!”

“Fuck! Wh-where d’you want it?” He pants, his voice sounds strained.

“I-Inside! Please! I’m on birth control.. Please I want it inside me! Please Frank, please cum for me!” You beg, moaning.

His breath hitches in his throat. “Oh you’re perfect.. S-so perfect.. Fucking fill you up.. T-take it!” He pushes inside of you as deep as he can and stills as he cums, growling loudly. “Yessss!!”

He collapses on top of you and you just lie there, both panting. “Can’t breathe.” You say after a while. He chuckles and rolls next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“That was..” He mutters.

“Yeah it was.” You say.

“‘M not going back to my truck.” He says looking at you, smirking.

You laugh. “I’m glad.” You say and you cuddle into his chest.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring and if the snow will be gone, but you don’t want to think about that now. Right now, you just want to enjoy the warmth and safety from this amazing man.

[milykins]

Sunshine

This is based on an AU where the turtles eventually did decide to take Chief Vincent's advice and go public. This also ties into my headcanon where they all have jobs and own their own businesses. This particular scene was actually from an RP with the lovely @danceingfae it was just begging to be written.

Michelangelo × female reader

No warnings - just Mikey being a sweetheart when his girlfriend is feeling insecure.

Aged up characters of course

It’s no secret that ever since the turtles had decided to come out of hiding and join common society that Mikey had become something of a celebrity. He attended parties and charity events. Hosted his own events at his comic book shops and flirted and met up with girls from time to time. This was his lifestyle for a while. He’d initially thought it was the best thing ever. He got to have his fun, finally have the life he’d dreamed of, meeting girls, having relationships, one-night-stands, whatever he liked.

This all changed when he met you, of course. He’d had a couple failed relationships under his belt that hadn’t lasted long. One crazy girl had cornered him in his shop after hours, stripped off all her clothes, and begged him to put a baby in her. That was kind of the turning point where he realized that maybe being a celebrity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Meeting you and falling in love with you brought the realization that this was all he needed and all he’d ever wanted.

He still had fans, of course, still had girls coming up in restaurants and coffee shops asking for a picture and his autograph, but it had slowed down considerably after the internet had found out he was taken. Mikey hadn’t minded that at all. It gave him more space to breathe and more time to spend spoiling and loving on his girlfriend.

On this particular day he’d taken you to a Panera Bread. He knew you were craving their signature broccoli soup in a bread bowl combo and had decided to treat you to lunch.

The two of you had been chatting, and you had been just about to steal one of his muffin tops when a gaggle of teen and older girls rushed their table asking for their usual pictures and autographs. Mikey was happy to oblige but did tell them to make it quick because he was having lunch with his girl, sending a flirty wink your way.

You blushed, giggling softly. He always made a point of making you feel special in situations like these.

One girl in particular wasn’t satisfied with just a picture and an autograph. She’d been giving you the side-eye during the entire interaction and blatantly slipped him her number right in front of you.

Now, this did sometimes happen, but Mikey was always quick to rebuff it. As the girl turned to leave, he had gotten up from the table to follow her.

Initially, the girl looked pleased, but her expression quickly turned sour when she found he was handing it back to her.

Mikey was unendingly kind about it. “Hey, thanks, but I’ve already found someone who has my heart. Here’s your number. You should save it for the right guy for you.”

Her face reddened in embarrassment as she snatched the number from him. Anger bubbling into rage she decided to be nasty. “You’re kidding, right? That’s your girlfriend?”

The unkind words were heard by everyone, especially you. You shrank in your seat, wishing you could disappear and wanted to forget about eating altogether and run.

Your boyfriend is stunned a moment at the venomous words but he is ever the gentleman as he answers. “Yes, she is my girlfriend, and I’m very proud that she chooses to be with me. Have a good day.”

Tears were threatening to spill over when he came to collect you, taking you out of the restaurant for a breather. “I am so sorry…” He softly spoke as you both sat on a bench nearby.

The words still stung as you clung to his orange hoodie and buried your face in his chest. You couldn't help but cry softly into him, feeling ugly and stupid. It seemed he knew exactly what to do to counter this, and it didn’t take long for you to realize you were being rocked. Mikey was singing to you.

“You are my sunshine… my only sunshine…”

The soft singing broke you out of your reverie as you wiped your eyes while simultaneously craning your neck to look at him.

Mikey actually was pretty good at singing, his voice was smooth, melodic and comforting as he continued.

“You make me happy… when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

A shaky breath is exhaled as tears threatened to overtake you once again.

“You okay, babycakes?” He whispered, caressing your face.

You answered, “Yes…” but it doesn’t sound at all convincing and he knows it. You can see him quietly asking you to be honest with him and find yourself confessing how you really feel. “I was just… feeling like I’m not… not good enough…”

Mikey calmly tucks your hair behind your ears so he can see your face. “Tell me why you feel that way.”

You’re unable to stop these feelings of shame and insecurity as you get all choked up again. “Why me? You… you could have anyone you want… but you chose me, why?”

His response is automatic like he’d been waiting for you to ask him this.

“Babe… you’re not just anyone. You’re mine. You’re all I want, and I think about you, like, all the time. Any other girl pales in comparison to you. Heck, they could be a playboy pinup, and I still would pick you. You are all I need.”

You can’t help but giggle as more tears spring to your eyes, the good kind this time and you have to kiss him because if you don’t in this moment, you’ll feel like you regret it.

The kiss is slow, sweet and passionate and you parted breathlessly, gazing at each other.

“I love you…” The confession catches him by surprise because neither of you had been the first to say it… until now.

Now, it’s Mikey’s turn to feel emotional. His voice is quiet and a little unsure as he asks for confirmation. “You love me?”

“Yes.” You answered without hesitation. “I love you, Michelangelo.”

Strong arms banded around you as he kissed you with even more fervor, before pulling back just as suddenly. “I love you too!” He’d been so caught up with kissing you that he’d forgotten to say it back.

You giggled and kissed his beak. “Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way, all it took was… a crazy fan.” She can’t help but laugh.

He laughed, too. “Just know, babe, that I’m proud to be with you, I’ll shout it from the rooftops if I have to… want me to? I’ll do it right now!” his smile and enthusiasm are infectious, and you are giggling as you shake your head.

“This is enough, I’m just glad you’re with me.” You had just snuggled into his embrace again when your stomach growled, reminding you both you still hadn’t eaten.

Mikey kissed your nose and stood, bringing you to your feet. “Let’s finish our lunch, babe.”

“That sounds perfect.”

From that moment on, nothing could shake your confidence in your relationship with Mikey. Nothing. He was there to stay, and so were you.

The End

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus @the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28 @definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs