#the special edition got me on edge!!!

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 3

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (IN STOCK!!!)

⋙ product description (summary): choso's finally had enough and if you won't listen to reason he will fuck it into you. but will you still choose him in the end or will he make that choice for you? ⋙ side effects (tw): THE LONG AWAITED BRAT TAMING! rough sex. throat goat!reader. more angst. spanking ass/puss. teasing. edging. lots of delayed pleasure. jealousy. cunnalingus. mirror sex. dom!choso. breeding kink. dirty talk. backshots. fingering. squirting. daddy kink. thigh riding. nuru/thigh fucking. intoxicated reader. drug use (weed). slight voyeurism. yandere choso. baby trapping. mentions of violence (not towards reader). mentions of somnophilia and a lil bit of fluff. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 9.6k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. the long awaited end! i hope you guys like it. i really worked hard on this to make it good <3 special shout outs to my betas @littlemochabunni for literally always talking me off the ledge when i want to ctrl + a+ del everything and @buttercupblu for all the grammar edits my adhd brain struggles with and inspiring me to write the last scene.

Plug!Choso who ultimately will forgive you but it will be on his terms. He just needed to show you first why the only person you should worry about pleasing was him.

Menacing chuckles rumble deep from Choso’s chest, bewildering you in your crossfaded state. Seizing you with a firm hold, he forces you to meet his gaze. Choso holds you so tightly against him that your feet barely touch the ground.

Any attempts of wriggling out of his hold are in vain.

��You’re such a fucking slut.”

His matter-of-fact statement makes you frown. You’re taken aback by the twisted amusement on his face.

“You don’t love me… You love my cock.”

“N-No I—”

Your already short skirt now bunches above your hips and Choso brings a heavy hand down onto your exposed bottom. The sting brings fresh tears to your eyes as the gems on your fishnets leave distinct impressions on your soft, malleable skin.

“You’ll have to learn to be quiet while daddy’s talking, princess.”

If you were going to act like a childish brat, Choso would treat you like one.

Another harsh spank startles you into hiccups as you sniff away fallen tears. 

You’d never been spanked before—not by previous lovers or boyfriends—hell not even your parents growing up. 

The last person you’d expect it from was Choso.

And yet each swift lick Choso deals you is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. 

Who knew you would be such a glutton for punishment? 

You fidget, biting your lip in anticipation of another. 

“Been thinkin’ princess—I’ve been too good to you. But you don’t want that, eh?”

A third smack has you whimpering. Your pelvic muscles clench hard, releasing more of the desperation that had already saturated your thighs.

“You want one of those assholes outside, is that right? They’re good enough for you, huh princess?”

You can only mewl in response from the delightful pain that pierces your senses as he delivers another and another.

“S’why every time I fuckin’ come round y’er being a lil’cocktease for some preppy ass frat fuck.”

Choso wasn’t wrong. 

You knew what those boys wanted from you.

Even though you had never really entertained any of them. That was the allure in itself—to be something unattainable. 

Yet more selfishly, you liked the attention. Not like you’d even got the same thrill from it anymore since you were with Choso—but old habits die hard.

Choso was making damn sure of that now.

“Tryna get one of them to fuck you tonight—”

Choso’s cock twitches in sync with your trembles from every spank.

“—or were you hoping I was finally gonna put that pretty princess pussy of yours in her place?” 

You’re smart enough to know Choso’s question is rhetorical and how could it not be given all your actions tonight? 

It was clear you wanted him and his deliciously fat cock back—badly. 

Your tongue cautiously peeks out as you try to quiet your shuddering breaths, afraid that any small movement might provoke his anger. At this point you know better than to beg too, almost certain that any attempts would only fuel the unexpected mean streak Choso had developed.

Yet despite any initial apprehension you were quickly becoming puddy in his hands.

“Poor baby, working so hard having to appease everyone—” 

SMACK!

“—well you ain’t gotta worry that bratty head of yours no more—seeing as you won’t be doing none of that shit from now on.” 

His threats which should have you cussing him out only make you wetter as your heart pounds in your ears from the thrill of being dominated. You’d do anything right now to get a little relief for your aching cunt that had gone a whole goddamn month without Choso’s thick cock plugging her up. 

Restless in arousal, your entire being just begs to be fucked. 

Releasing your hair Choso parts your legs with his knee and you collapse onto him, your plump pussy colliding with his thigh. You whimper, tightly gripping his broad shoulders for leverage to rock yourself against his thigh. 

Choso could feel the intensity of the moist heat radiating from your core dampening his jeans.

“Shit, I can feel you dripping… pussy drooling just from getting that ass spanked a lil’—are you a masochist, princess?”

Choso breathes the question into your ear, his words bringing a chill over your skin fanning goosebumps all the way down to the nape of your neck.

You’re losing yourself all the more in the hypnotic state of lust swirling from alcohol, weed, pain and arousal clashing within you. 

You nearly choke on the deep guttural moans that had been held in by his hand still around your throat when he grabs your hips forcibly rocking you harder against him. Your paper-thin thong does nothing to protect you  from the rough threadbare material of his jeans grinding against your sensitive lil nub. 

“Wearing these slutty tights with an ass like yours…” 

You almost forget to breathe, the sting this time accompanied by him sliding his fingers between the gaps in the material and grabbing the fat of your ass for emphasis.

“...coulda got me in so much shit tonight if I made ol’boy who was touchin’ up on you swallow teeth.”

The baritone in his voice lowers to a deadly note, tuning every nerve in your body to the exact pitch of his voice.

“P-Please C-Cho I—”

—in an instant the hand on your hip coils around your neck. 

Thumbing your collarbone, Choso slowly applies just enough pressure to activate the euphoric sensation of suffocation, sending tingles down your spine.

“Look at me princess, you better stay quiet—m’not gonna say it again.”

You choke back a cry as the elastic on your fishnets snaps against your tender skin when Choso removes his hand from them.

“But then your lil’card got pulled when you saw me with that whore, hmm?”

You wince preemptively expecting another hard spanking but Choso loosens his grip around your throat. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

A sniffly frown complements the pitifulness of your runny makeup as you cling to him possessively. 

“Y-Yeah… I-I hated seeing that d-dumb bitch all over you. Wanted to fuck her up.”

Choso is satisfied with your answer but the warmth behind his smile didn’t match the heated glint in his eyes.

“There it is. See? Bratty princesses who are honest get rewarded—”

Any relief you feel is short lived as your despair returns with the words that follow.

“—eventually.”

Plug!Choso who has you so close to release just from rutting against his brawny thigh. Yet just as you feel the hot coil about to snap in your stomach he pulls away from you. 

Wobbling for stability, your panic that he would leave again subsides when he returns to sit on your bed.

Choso leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees to pack another bowl. The process is second nature to him and his hands move with an instinctual precision, allowing his oppressively dark gaze to remain fixed to you.

“Strip.”

It’s a rather simple command but it causes a small malfunction in your brain nonetheless. 

Your intuition is simultaneously screaming at you to be a ‘good girl’ and listen to Choso so he’d finally fuck you—but also to get the hell away from the menacing man before you were actually fucked.

Choso’s shift in his nature was setting off every internal alarm—although at the same time, you couldn’t say this still didn’t feel like Choso.

Was it really new? 

Or was this side just new to you? 

You’d only ever really known the gentle boyish side of Choso. The side who would blush easily and that was so willing to do anything to please you—the side that was a dutiful and loving brother.

But this other side? 

Well, he was a dealer.

You’d never heard of Choso getting caught out or punked in the streets—not even once. 

You also never knew how he conducted his business, as he always stepped out of the car or left the room. When he took a call while you were with him, all you could hear were faint murmurs of conversation over the rumbling bass of music or through a well-insulated door.

You knew he did his best to keep that side away from you and Yuji, as it wasn’t always pretty. 

Instantly you recalled how once when you had slept over he reluctantly left in the middle of the night late saying he had ‘business’ to take care of. When he came home hours later he looked worn down and even more tired than usual. His knuckles were swollen and there was a rip with small dots of blood on his collar which you would have thought was his own if not for there not being a single scratch on him.

He didn’t speak of what happened and you couldn’t fuss over his appearance for too long—your mind being far from inquisitive while blubbering from his cock drilling your body deep into the mattress. You blissfully became a fleshlight of relief for all his frustrations that night until long after sunrise. 

In fact, Choso had dicked you down so thoroughly when you finally made it out of bed that day it was mid-afternoon. You didn’t even question him about the bruises lingering on his knuckles or whose blood he had on him—still in a daze off his cock.

So this must be how he is in the streets. 

“Go on now, princess.”

The deep silky dominance in his tone commanded your attention, jarring you from your thoughts. You’re pouting, but your body, in spite of your more rational mind, wins as it compels you to obey him, convincing you that anything he has planned for you would be well worth the pleasure that follows. 

Slowly, you begin to lift up your tiny pink top when Choso’s eyes narrow in disapproval, stopping you.

“Nuh-uh see—that shit right there won't cut it.”

You’re puzzled. You did exactly as he asked.

“You didn’t think I saw my lil’ slut playing beer pong and teasing those shitheads with my tiddies? Now do it for me—the same fuckin’ way.”

You’re nodding but your delicate hands are nevertheless shaking under his intense smolder.

Swallowing your anxiety and mimicking your earlier actions, you bent towards him. Your chest is lightly heaving by the time your nails begin to slowly drag the hem of the sparkly top down over your breasts. Choso is blatantly palming his cock when you give the final tug that has your tits bouncing forth from their confines, fully exposed to him.

Choso hums in approval, satisfied with your performance. He motions with a finger for you to come to him and you can’t close the distance fast enough to stand between his legs. 

Molding your hips in his large hands, Choso brings you even closer. Parting his lips the smoke tendrils fan over your stomach while his mouth hovers over your skin. 

Choso looks back up at you and your belly dips, quivering at his dangerously seductive eyes and mischievous grin. 

You were nervous—good.

“Knees.”

Plug!Choso who has you shamelessly panting on your knees before him. Not caring for any decorum at this point you’re openly salivating as hearts practically dance in your eyes over his engorged cock throbbing inside his jeans.

Choso releases a whiny hiss when the air hits his swollen glands. His length sways weighted down as an embarrassing amount of pre drips off his reddened shaft, his boxers already soiled. 

In your right state of mind you might have used this to shift back the power dynamics—yet alas, you are far too gone now. The need for him to give you his praise and approval winning out over any inklings of sass or disobedience. 

Your attention is all but zeroed in on how those milky pearls dribbled over his albert piercing and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.

Seeing how your mouth watered just from the sight of his cock, it’s Choso who proves to be the more impatient one as he grips the back of your head with one hand forcing you closer. In his haste, his dick misses your mouth and skids across your cheek, prompting a low growl of curses from Choso. 

Unconcerned with his impatience, you’re still in your own world—and that world in question was currently being filled with the carnal smell of Choso’s scent marking your skin. A long stain of pre smearing across your face mind shuts down now solely driven by your needy cunt.

“I’ll forgive you when you show me how sorry you are—”

“—anything!” 

Quickly snapping out of your dickmatized daze you look up at him with doe eyes, begging for the go-ahead.

“Yeah? Then do it nasty for me, princess.” 

The words have scarcely left Choso’s lips before you’re already parting your own, releasing a viscous well of drool to pour languidly on his dick.

Your saliva mixing with his spilled essence coats his cock and fills the room with vulgar squelches as you obediently pump his hot length. You rotate your grip with a sinful precision while your other hand thumbs his gooch as you’re cupping his balls, kneading them in a manner that had Choso’s toes curling. 

Giving thanks for the meal you are about to consume, you never break eye contact as you deliver pillowy kisses to his tip and strum your tongue under his frenulum. Choso’s abs twitch feverishly when the sultry hollow of your mouth lewdly hums over his piercing. The sounding effect alone is nearly enough to make him bust right then. 

You aren’t holding up well yourself either as your thighs squeeze together soaking your fishnets which had long been sticky with your overflowing arousal. Manifesting that it soon would be the moist suction of your vacant cunt and not of your spit glossed lips that would take him whole as you continue to moan wantonly around his girth.

The memory alone didn’t do your mouth justice to Choso, not that he still didn’t cum plenty from thinking of your lips slobbering around him in the last month.

Fuck if you didn’t always give some crazy ass head though.

However, he knows he has to keep control lest he loses all the progress he made training that lil’ attitude of yours tonight. 

Weaving his muscular hands through your hair, in one swift motion Choso thrusts his hips forward. He groans loudly from your warm gummy throat now stuffed full with his cock. Gargling his girth you choke when Choso’s piercing scrapes the back of your throat as he forcibly bobs your head up and down.

Thick tears burn your vision with your running mascara flowing right down your full cheeks. But it's nothing compared to the fiery burn in your cunt that’s even more jealous than before of your throat getting the treatment it needs so desperately.

“You’re gonna be my good girl from now on? Yeah baby, I know—I know ya are. Now open that throatpussy a lil wider for me, got sum’ for it.”

Heart fluttering at his filthy praises, you easily let him coerce your face flush to his pubic bone to take him to the very hilt. Your nose is buried in his dark pubic hair and his balls slap your chin at every thrust. The harsh treatment has your tears mingling with his fluids to coat your face and stain his jeans. 

This is how you should be. 

Obedient and pretty while your sobs vibrate around his cock destroying your throat. All you had to do was worry about taking care of him—in turn he would take care of you and the rest.

Shit though, going so long without your bratty little mouth around his dick Choso wasn’t about to last too much longer. 

His blunted nails dig into your scalp as he hunches, curling over your body from the sloppy way he plows even deeper into you. 

“You’re gonna take all of it princess. Every last bit, understood?”

Choso takes your unintelligible gurgles and the hands shoving against his thighs as confirmation. A needy grunt is followed by jets of his creamy load spurting down your esophagus.

Teeming with adrenaline, you gasp for air. Your lungs are on fire from sputtering up his tangy spunk that somehow even trickled into your windpipes. Choso’s fluids dribble down your chin, a show of proof from you having milked his cock so thoroughly. 

But you're not angry with him for the rough treatment—on the contrary. 

Once your coughs subside you’re gazing up at Choso like an innocent lamb and not the nasty throat goat you just proved yourself to be. Praying you have been enough of a good girl for him to finally fuck your lil’ cunt as hard as you needed.

Plug!Choso who rewards you with gentle strokes that smooth your hair back and caress your flushed cheeks stained with his spunk.

Keeping true to his promise of every last bit, Choso thumbs the remaining salty fluids soiling your face back into your mouth, dumping the excess onto your tongue that greedily slurps it down.

Satisfied, Choso straightens and beckons you onto his lap with a pat to his thigh. Smirking at your enthusiasm as you clumsily settle in. 

“Now doesn’t it feel nice…being a good girl for once?”

Choso affectionately twirls your hair in his fingers and you bob your head eagerly. 

Your lips are mere centimeters apart.

You want to kiss him but Choso doesn’t feel like you earned that just yet, balling his fist to tug your locks taunt when you lean in.

“Not yet, baby.”

You stick your lip out, fussing in aroused frustration. 

“Tsk—now, now none of that shit, brats don’t get kisses—and they certainly don’t get this dick.”

If the look in his eyes were any indication you knew Choso meant business. The searing eye contact had long incinerated all the walls you’d built to keep him out, exposing the very essence of you laid bare in the ashes. 

You have no more defenses against him, becoming more obedient to his every word.

Seconds pass that seem like achingly brutal hours until he breaks the staredown. His sights now follow his hands as they splay out trailing from your collarbone to your breasts, letting them weigh heavy in his palms.

His lecherous scrutiny has you shivering.

“You let anyone touch these?”

The question startles you as does the sensation of Choso rolling your stiffened peaks between his knuckles before giving them a cruel tug. 

You sniffle as you shake your head ‘no’, trying not to whine and still unable to speak from him pounding your vocal cords raw. 

Choso grins knowingly as his hands fondle your plush mounds, kneading the supple flesh and pushing them together before the steamy cavern of Choso’s mouth consumes both at once. The bar of his pierced tongue swirled between your hardened buds, lapping, slurping and nibbling. Squirming you arch back deeper into his mouth and grind your soaked lil cunny on his rapidly stiffening length. Your hands cling to his pigtails for any semblance of an anchor keeping you from tumbling backwards. 

Spurred on by your shuddering cries Choso withdraws from your swollen peaks with a pop and licks up the string of spit that cobwebs between them. His tongue flattens licking each one dutifully as he watches as your jaw slacks from pleasure.

You’ve been so deprived of his touch. You could cum from just a bit more of this.

Yet Choso’s lips don’t stop traveling your body, even higher this time to adorn your decolletage with searing hickies. 

Uncaring if they actually showed up to brand your skin or not.

Choso only needs you to feel them bruise beneath your flesh.

That way you wouldn’t so soon forget exactly who you belonged to.

“And what about my bratty lil’ pussy, princess? I know how needy she is. You let one of those frat fuckers inside her?”

His hot heady breaths puff out to curl around your earlobe, leaving the severely neglected spot in between your thighs throbbing at her mention. 

You think you might actually die if he ignores your cunt for much longer. 

Your thong is utterly drenched. More arousal trickles onto his lap as his muscular hands settle back on your hips. 

“N-no!”

Sounding more like a croaked plea, your voice is barely above a whisper from the hoarseness that settled in your throat.

“W-Waited f-for you Cho.” 

“Then show me.”

Plug!Choso who has you even more intoxicated off the thought of him giving you a pussy inspection. 

He has nearly succeeded in domesticating you and your arms wrap around him submissively as you moan unabashedly into his neck. 

Choso muses he should have handled your snobby ass like this sooner and saved himself some trouble. 

Lifting you, Choso rises from the bed. 

You haven’t realized you’ve moved at all until you crash into the edge of your vanity, shaking the table with a thud. Rattled, you look back, giving Choso the leverage he needs to spin you around. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your arms fly out—scattering bottles of makeup and perfume as you grasp at the wooden tabletop. 

The items roll on the floor in tandem with Choso rolling his hips up against you. You release a loud mewl from his hard erection teasingly poking into your ass.

Thinking only with your pussy, your impatient pleas are met with another slap to the ass. The increased weight behind his hand this time leaves your nerve endings sizzling. 

You were gonna be such a sweet girl by the time he was done with you.

However, he wouldn’t torture you for too much longer. 

Despite his cold authoritarian demeanor, the image of shoveling his cock deep into your creamy cunny after so long of only jerking to the memory has him about to lose it. Grasping the front of your hips, Choso jerks you flush against his pelvis. You fall forward until your cheekbone is smooshed into the vanity’s mirror and his thick bulge molding itself in-between your cheeks

“Stay just like that for me, yeah baby? Hands on the mirror, they better not fuckin’ leave either.”

You position your hands obediently and Choso, as if praising you, tenderly gifts lustful kisses down your spine while he pampers your reddening bottom with gentle caresses. 

“Good fuckin’ girl, princess.”

The more feral his nature, the more like his prey you became. Choso licentiously inspects your body—gripping, sniffing, and nipping at your heated skin until he is level with your ass. 

You whimper as Choso rips your fishnets ripping them open, admiring the indents on your skin from the jeweled tights before burying his face between your squishy cheeks. 

His nose salaciously nuzzles against the soaked material stuck to your barely covered hole and he releases a hot guttural sigh, purring into your pussy. 

Always a fiend for dining on your cunt, Choso is brimming with contentment from your juices leaking onto his face. This may have been your punishment but it was also his reward as the taste of your filthy lil plum never failed to drive him wild—often opting to spend most of the night with his face between your hips, he’d still cum plenty times from just thrusting into the air as he let you ride his face.

Licking his lips, Choso’s tongues traces the pattern of your thong and sucks your juices from the saturated fabric. You’re both loudly moaning now—Choso from the saccharine flavor of your cunt and you from the sweet relief of the hot languid strokes of his skillful tongue.

Choso might have lost himself in that moment of finally getting to taste you again. His eyes roll back at how you lewdly leak through your soaked thong.

All for him. 

You were still his even after all this time.

However, it's your own hastiness that reminds him your penance is worth more than his own pleasure when your ass wiggles impatiently lowering onto his face when Choso’s tongue piercing starts drawing lazy circles around your sensitive lil pearl.

“C-Cho, n-need you…puh-lease s’not fair—”

Determined to control every sensation he gives to you and holding you in place, Choso scolds you.

“Fair? Nah, know what’s not fair, princess?”

His lips move closer to ghost over your ass causing goosebumps to rise over the warm tender skin.

“You actin like a bitch for a whole fuckin’ month and keeping all this good pussy away from me.”

You shudder when his teeth sink into your jiggly flesh causing you to yelp and rock against the vanity.

You’d get more pleasure when he wanted you to. 

Choso would screw that lesson into you soon enough. 

“Fuck—the only thing sweet about you is this lil’ pussy. You’re such a brat but she's so honest. Then again—maybe it's your slutty lil’ pussy that’s actually the brat, thinking she runs shit because of how good she is at milking cock, yeah?”

Choso confirms his suspicions upon peeling your soaked thong to the side. Strings of your arousal practically glue the material to your cunt. Not hesitating to make more of a mess of you, he illicitly hawks globes of his spit into your already dripping lil’ hole eagerly winking at him.

“Let’s see what this slutty cunt has to say for herself, hm?”

Choso places a chaste kiss over your entrance before driving two fingers straight in. Your hands leave streaks down the mirror as you perspire, fogging up the glass with your breathy cries.

Speeding up his pace he digs the pads of his fingers into your walls, searching until they run over a spongy hard spot and he has to fight to keep a hand on your lower back to hold you in place.

God you were virgin-tight again. 

Before ignoring you, Choso had only ever gone three days without fucking you and even then you’d been crying from his tip just stretching the entrance of your taut lil pussy. 

In the past, Choso would have taken his time with you. He knew he needed to work you open more so you wouldn’t be sore tomorrow, and yet his cock throbbed to life again so urgently he couldn't restrain himself for much longer.

That’d be something you’d just have to fucking deal with. 

This was all your fault after all. 

Plug!Choso who wouldn’t let you deprive him of his pussy for any longer—however, he was still going to make you beg for it.

“Tell me what you want, princess.”

Choso rips the thong clean off your ass cheeks. 

Leaving you exposed bare in your fishnets he rises up to lean over you. His moist breath trickles electricity down your spine as his bricked length roughly pipes between your cheeks. 

“Nghh…w-want your c-cock…”

“Whose cock—so you know me now, princess?—Choso is that it?” 

Choso mocks your voice with the hurtful words you hurled at him during the garden brunch. Gliding his girth to prod over your entrance and miss its mark intentionally. 

“Pleeaseee—C-Choso-C-Choso-C-Choso.” 

The pleas of his name slur together as your attention solely focuses on how his leaky shaft lathers your already dripping folds in his pre. 

“That’s right princess…now tell me who am I to you?”

Choso reaches around to swat at your swollen clit. 

You cry out as your body slick with sweat jolts up violently. Choso has to throw more of his weight onto you to keep you from slipping off the vanity entirely.

You could have actually fallen to the floor without noticing as the fuzzy feeling in your brain intensifies, too much is happening all at once. Your intoxicated thoughts swirl in its attempt to work out the finer details of your relationship with Choso—details you likely wouldn't have been able to answer even while completely sober.

Who was Choso to you?  

Well, frankly, right now he was technically nothing. You had never previously defined your relationship and hadn’t had any communication at all over the last month until just a few days ago.

Your dealer? Friend? Casual hookup? Situationship? 

By and large, it had been your fault that you’d never discussed it. You actively ran from any complicated conversations or pulled away whenever Choso proposed something that would be too close to affirming your status. 

You also knew how much Choso liked you, especially from how he’d blush when other parents in Yuji’s class would mistake the two of you for a couple. 

You weren’t a couple though—even if you acted like you were behind closed doors. 

Even so, you knew how he made you feel when you were with him and knew what you wanted him to be to you now. 

That was enough.

Goddamnit.

Your body threatens to explode from the vulnerability of your exposed emotions pricking at your every nerve while you work up the courage to say it. 

This admission was somehow even harder than confessing you loved him—which had honestly been relatively easy in comparison as you were so upset you would have done anything at that moment to make him stay. 

Face on fire, you clasp your eyes shut—as if not looking at Choso in the mirror means he somehow can’t hear the words that stumble out of you.

“M-My boyfriend!”

Silent tears fall as you fear his reaction, you’ve never been the one to lay your feelings on the line first.

Had you really missed your chance to be with him?

Would he just fuck you and leave after?

Choso remains silent as his hands glide up your sides, feeling you tremble under his touch. He lifts your torso, pulling you to his chest possessively. Choso’s arms encircle you as they weave between your breasts and he licks a stray tear away. 

Now you have the most lewd, yet perfectly unhindered, view of his hefty mushroom tip as it quickly slots through your puffed folds to ram into your clit.

The wide grin on his features is evident as your face crumples and pleasurable sobs rupture from you. Choso rests the side of his face against your neck as he takes in your smell, giving you a chaste kiss and savoring how much his body is scenting yours.

“Oh? You asking me out, princess? Well, I’m flattered you finally asked, but that's not exactly the answer I was looking for—”

A feverish chill spreads across your skin and you’re shivering as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“—as it’s certainly not what you will be calling me when I’m pushing your kidneys back.”

Choso’s hands lazily roam your body while he continues to sneak his length through your thighs. You unconsciously arch back to rest your nape on his shoulder, allowing him better access to touch you.

So he wasn’t talking about your relationship status after all?! 

Still the devious smile on Choso’s face tells you he intentionally misled you with his phrasing nonetheless. 

“So—who am I?”

The cocky tone in his voice makes it clear exactly what he wants you to call him—and you’d say it—you just need to work up the nerve first.

Unfortunately for you Choso’s patience for your bratty ass had long since depleted.

“Tch, yo we can stop then if—”

You snapped the moment you felt his hands leave you.

“NO, DADDY!” 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy…s’good. I-I promise puh-leaseee put it in—please—need you, Daddy!”

There was no way in hell Choso would have left without sticking his dick in you but he knew that you were too hard up right now to even dream of calling his bluff.

“That’s right princess. I’m your Daddy. Now show Daddy that arch baby.”

Plug!Choso who smirks into your skin as he tastes you. The sting from a tiny love bite blossoming as he manhandles you back down onto the table’s surface when your already cockdrunk mind doesn’t have you moving fast enough.

“But you’re still actin’ up a lil baby—so you gonna have to put this dick in yourself, got it?”

Choso hums at your dizzy babbles of confirmation, slipping his thumbs over your chubby pussy lips to spread you open. Choso is in awe of how slutty your cunt looked, clenching around nothing but the webs of your own arousal and practically screaming to be busted open wider by his cock.

Catching his tip on your entrance, Choso stalls as he has to chew the inside of his own cheek to resist not thrusting into you completely—you’d do the rest from here. 

Choso was just glad you weren't looking in the mirror to see how hard his abs were trembling. 

Exhaling shaky breaths, you ease back onto him, gingerly sinking down his length. Your kitten nails fitfully scratch at the table just from the stretch of just getting his wide mushroom tip inside. 

SHIIIIT-SHIIIT-SHIIIT—Too much! 

You grit your teeth, he’s so big stretching the walls of your cunt to the degree that your walls actually try to push him out when you flex. However, Choso’s hands are digging into your hips to secure you in place. He’s not helping nor hindering you—but he isn’t letting you run any either.

Your knees knock against the vanity, trembling this much and he's only halfway in. 

“Come on, princess…”

Choso coos gently as he rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumbs, coaxing you to relax. 

The dichotomy between Choso’s treatment erratically switching in severity leaves you reeling. You're on edge with heightened arousal, never sure if his next words or touch would be rough or soothing yet either way it leaves you wanting more of him—anything he’d give, you’d take. 

But right now you need him to have a lil mercy on you. 

Tears brim your wide eyes as you pout and look at him through the mirror, pleading with him.

“Puh-leaseeee Cho—m’daddy…help me?”

Your pitiful submission has Choso cracking. His need to ruin you after so long winning over his want to delay your pleasure along with everything else.

Sighing, Choso relents.

“You know, I spoil you too much, princess…s’why you’re so rotten now.”

No sooner had he finished speaking did he hastily slam into you. Your wet warmth completely sucks him in whole and wraps around him so sinfully he has to dig his blunted nails deeper into your hips to keep from immediately painting your walls white.

God, he really was so incredibly weak for your perfect lil’ pussy.

Grunting, Choso sets an unrelenting tempo as he continues to rail into your cervix, each bruising thrust was him reminding you of every time you ignored him—pretended you didn’t know him—told people you were just friends—and for making him even love someone as mean and bratty as you in the first place.

Grabbing onto the clothing bunched at your waist for leverage, Choso pistoning his hard length in and out of you felt like he was ripping your guts out along with it. 

Gathering together a coherent thought right now was impossible. It’s so good but so intense your body reflexively reaches a hand back, frantically pressing against his abs to slow him.

Choso growls, stilling your hand behind your back while his other springs out to pin your head on the table. 

You were blocking his view of how your ass rippled every time he pounds his cock deeper into your cunt.

He just needed you to be good and take it. 

And take it you did.

Choso fucks you so hard your vanity table creaks and repeatedly slams into your wall causing the entire room to shake. Your mind goes blank as if his cock controls the very flow of blood in your body. Surging tingling sensations electrifying your veins when the curve of his length knocks his albert piercing so aggressively against your cervix. 

Your gooey walls build up so much pressure around his thickness that white spots edge your vision so very close to your nirvana.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so my slutty lil’ princess—hold that shit for daddy.”

But there was no way you couldn’t and just as you are at the very edge of your bliss Choso rips it away from you, halting once again to still inside of you.

“Mmmm no please-please-puhleeease let me cum Choso! Please fuck me right Daddy!” 

Plug!Choso, who as much as he wants to edge you past your limits, really pulled out because he also needs to calm down. Choso removes his shirt overhead as the heat in the room has skyrocketed to near sweltering. 

Even unmoving inside you, your pussy still flexes around him like crazy. You weren’t on birth control so he never came inside you, not even once before. Pulling out normally to release over your stomach, ass or tits and wearing a condom on days it wasn't as safe. 

Although he desperately wants to cum inside you, to really mark you as his, could he risk it? 

It would be so stupid and so irresponsible, going far beyond any punishment. 

You still had a year of school left.

He couldn't knock you up. 

Then again you didn't need to go to classes physically—you could take them online. 

Pushing his more debased and wicked thoughts aside, ultimately Choso reigns himself in. He didn’t even want to put you in that position. He’d support you regardless, but he’d admittedly die inside if you decided not to have his child. 

“S-Shit! C-Cho the door!” 

Seeing the sliver of hallway light cast into your dimly lit room, you realize now that you must have forgotten to lock it. This was an old house and your door had the habit of coming open easily from just some minor movement in your room if left unlocked. 

Choso fucking you like he hated you was surely enough to knock it loose.  

Unfortunately for you though, Choso didn’t give a fuck. 

Abruptly snapped out of his perverse breeding fantasies, Choso’s feral eyes, tinged red from his high meet your frantic ones in the mirror.

“No.”

The renewed vigor of his cock plowing through you again strangles any protests, gagging you on them as you feel him back in your throat from the intensity. 

“Nah princess, let them all hear how hard you sob on this loser’s cock while he fucks some manners into you.”

And sob you did. It was difficult to do anything else really as him moving inside you again had your body buzzing more than from your actual high. 

“It doesn’t matter, cause I am about to fuck you so hard even the walls downstairs start shaking—”

Choso’s heavy balls slap against your clit when he kicks his thrusts up a notch and hitches your leg up on the vanity. 

“—n’when they discover us there’s no way they will even want a cockdrunk brat who lets her ‘weirdo burnout stalker’ get her high and fuck her stupid as a president.”

Your mind, clearly ruined by his dick thinks that might not actually be so bad. 

“Shit, you tightened up baby, you actually want someone to find us? See how good I slut you out, yeah?”

Honestly, the harder he thrusted inside you the less you cared—about anything.

School. 

The sorority. 

Your presidency. 

None of it made you feel anywhere near as fulfilled as you were right now with Choso’s thick girth ripping through you. 

The walls quake even more violently. 

The soggy clicking sounds from your soaked cunt almost reach the volume of your crazed screams for him to fuck you even harder. 

Choso was so fucking close again, he was beginning to lose reason.

“F-Fuck it—should I cum in you, princess? I’ll even let you cum too this time.”

Your brain on a mission to cum, fucked so smooth by his fat cock, could care less as long as you got to cum too. 

Oh fuck, just a lil more and you would—

“—PREZ! Did you get the goods or not? We wanna start roll—”

On her phone texting, Brianna—who is pretty fucked up herself—did not even register that the sex noises came from your room. Thinking Choso had left already and sure you were up here salty about her ‘stealing him away’. 

All the color drains from Brianna’s face as she drops her phone as well as her red solo cup filled with spiked seltzer, splashing on her outfit as well as the floor. 

Through the mirror's reflection, she can see the pleasurable agony painted all over your face from getting your cheeks clapped into oblivion by the obvious third leg Choso was packing. Your eyes to the ceiling, heaving out wails as your tongue hangs out of your mouth waging with every thrust Choso carves into your guts. The clicking sound of his cock stirring up your tight lil’ pussy echoes throughout your room. 

“OH MY GAWD! So it was true? You’re actually fucking him??? OHMYGAWDOGMYGAWD they aren’t going to believe this!”

Cockdrunk and stupified you couldn’t give even a piece of a fuck. Honestly, you wouldn't have even noticed her if Choso didn’t stop again. 

No, No, No. You were so sick of being edged! Not after he finally was going to let you cum. 

This can’t be happening right now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to cum so bad. 

Your vision is blurry with moisture caught in your lashes as you push yourself up. Grasping onto the edge of the tabletop you used it as leverage to weakly fuck yourself back onto him, doing the work this time if he wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t let Brianna’s ass of all people prevent you from having the orgasm you’ve been fiending over a fucking month for.  

“I jushh w-wanna cum! Pleasssh, wanna-cum-wanna-cum…”

You chant out shamelessly. Your desperate whines stunning both Choso and Brianna. 

Candidly, both thought you'd be horrified enough to stop. 

Choso especially, as even after everything tonight wouldn’t have been shocked if the mortification of actually being caught had you kicking him out.

“Heh.”

Are you actually choosing him for once?

Choso wasn’t going to let the moment pass without finding out—that’s for fuckin’ sure.

The smack he delivers to your cheeks grab your attention as you bellow out more cries. You’re still pathetically trying to get off with your weakened thrusts back. It wasn’t nearly enough to get you off—but better than the burning that threatens to incinerate you whole if you stopped.

“Hey Princess, I’ll let you cum just lemme know something first, yeah?”

You nod your head longingly, dizzy with need.

“Tell this bitch whose dick is this?”

For the first time that night, you answered without missing a beat.

“M-Mine m’daddy, its m-mine!”

You pant breathlessly, still trying to rock yourself back on him but you aren't quite hitting the spot. 

Your eyes lock with Brianna’s through the mirror’s reflection yet you are looking straight through her—your eyes vacant as you could only think of Choso’s cock. 

Your cock.

“Nah don’t look at that bitch, look at me princess.”

Not hesitating, your eyes snap over to him.

“Good fucking girl—and whose pussy is this?” 

“You–YOU CHOSO! Please Daddy—please it's s’good, I need it! Please fuck me Daddy!”

Choso turns to Briana who is frozen in place—her eyes are wider than saucers—as she realizes she’s lost.

Reaching over you he grabs an ounce bag and tosses it near her hitting the floor by her feet. Brianna hesitates though, causing Choso to growl impatiently. 

He’d proved his point, now he wanted this bitch gone.

“Yo Gouda—you a voyeur or somethin’?”

Brianna jumps when Choso addresses her quickly shaking her head ‘no’. 

“Then get the fuck up outta here bitch—MOVE!”

In her haste, Brianna slips on the spilled alcohol as she scrambles to quickly snatch up the weed and her alcohol-soaked phone. The door slams shut as she scurries out the door.

Plug!Choso who has lost all desire to punish you. He only wants to be able to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally lets you have your sweet euphoric release.

In a flash, he’s moving you again. Choso swoops you up and tosses you onto the bed, hurriedly making sure the door is locked this time before kicking off his pants and crawling on top of you. 

“Shhhh princess, you did so good baby, m’gonna let you cum. Gonna have you creaming so hard on this cock, s’your cock baby—you earned it.”

Choso is slurring his words as he peppers your body with blood buzzing kisses to hush your anguished whimpers while he peels the remaining clothes off your body. Not being sheathed inside you is killing him just as much, yet he longs to touch your silky skin unimpeded against his own.

“Been taking me s’gud baby, c’mere…”

The both of you now bare, Choso wastes no time plunging back into your heated core, your heels digging into his back at the intensity. 

Damn—you’re so perfect.  

Allowing himself to let go, his mind shatters as Choso melts into your gooey lil’ cunny. 

His lips are desperate to find yours and Choso is no longer able to withhold himself from sinking into a pussydrunk state. Uncaring for any more displays of dominance, the kiss you share is hurried and sloppy causing your thoughts to splinter. 

Your mind fragments into increasingly smaller pieces of incoherency the more frantic Choso’s kiss becomes. His teeth clash with yours and graze over your swollen lips, unable to control himself as he fitfully bruises your clit from the blunt thrusts of his pelvic bone.

Tears glaze your eyes blinding you from the creamy stickiness at Choso’s hilt that splash between your bodies. The musky fluids flow all over your puffed lil’ pussy to drizzle past his aching balls to puddle on your sheets.

“L-Live with me—with me n’ Yuji—FUHHCKKpussysogood—y-you ain’t gotta be here anymore, princess.”

Choso’s forehead rests against yours and his dick twitches inside of you like crazy from the ridges of his thick engorged cock scraping against every nerve in your cunt.

“Be with us, baby. Be our family. I-I–SHIIIIIT—I love you so-much-so-much.”

All of his bravado strips away and there’s just the soft Choso you knew once again. The one who would do anything for you, the one who made your stomach flip and your heart stop—you didn’t want to go through life anymore without him in yours.

“Y-Yes! I wanna—ah fuhhhh—s’gud l-love you D-Daddy!”

Overwhelmed with emotion for you and knowing he would come soon, Choso reaches a shaky hand between you to roughly smash his palm into your sensitive lil’ bud. The soaked slick from your bodies causes his movements to jerk erratically and your hips involuntarily thrash against him.

Choso screws his eyes shut, your bodies so wet he nearly slips off of you in his single-minded focus to make you cum. He has to be ready to pull out of you as soon as you do or he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from shooting all of his cum in you—yet that’s exactly what your fucked out lil’ pussy wants. 

“C-Cum—cum in me Daddy…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you almost fade out of consciousness from the sublime shockwaves that erupt over your body as you are nearly at the peak of your climax.

Choso’s hips falter, almost in a more fucked out condition than you. He nearly dumped his entire load into you then but his last sliver of sanity held out.

“SHIIIIIT—P-Princess—Do ya even know what y’er s-saying to me right now?” 

Time slows, your hand cups his face staring with conviction as best you could into his dark aubergine eyes as your other weakly directs the palm pressing on your clit to rest on your belly.  

“Cum in me Choso—I-I wouldn’t mind having a baby if it's yours.” 

Oh fuck… 

And with that your knees were by your ears and your ankles dangle off his shoulders. 

Sure, you were intoxicated on many substances—his dick included and as much as you may have just been talking shit at this moment Choso doesn’t care anymore.

You’d told him you’d have his baby and it’s all his pussydrunk mind can process.

Like a puppy Choso whimpers his groans keen sharply out of him as his tongue dangles to drip slobber down your neck. He’s reverting back to the sloppy whiny mess you know him to be when hes fucked himself out from treating your drooling hole like a well-loved pocket pussy.

“MHMMM FUCK!”

The knot inside you twists impossibly tighter, straining your nerves until it finally snaps sending shockwaves through you. You lose yourself in nonsensical cries as your worn battered body convulses uncontrollably, creaming around his cock. 

If your brain hadn’t shut down at this very moment—only filled with the white noise of your searing orgasm—you might be worried Choso just broke your bed. The creaking fills the room as the sound of metal bending is apparent although neither of you are concerned.

“—s’gonna be OK, mmm-FUCK—m’gonna take care of you, love you—we’ll be a real family then, you, me, yuji—n’our baby!”

You don’t even hear him as you’re on autopilot now. The red streaks your kitten nails scratch across his muscular shoulders urge him on like the squelching sounds of your squirt gushing out of you and wet smacks of his balls colliding with your ass.

Overstimulating your senses, Choso sweeps you up into another all consuming kiss. The mind-numbing aftershocks of your blissful tremors leaves your tongue limp as his mouth hungrily devours yours. When Choso finally releases, his hot seed pumps into your tummy as his body writhes on top of yours. 

The mind numbing aftershock of your euphoric release continues as Choso proceed to fuck more and more of his thick ropes of his cum into you. He doesn’t show signs of slowing down but your body on the other hand fades, giving into the comforting gratification of sleep after having your guts rearranged. 

“O-one more time, p-princess—pleaseeee.”

Your thankful at that moment you’ve previously told Choso you didn’t mind somnophilia and gave him the free use pass to fuck you while you slept. You rarely actually could even stay asleep with how hard he would end up railing you but there was a first time for everything with your cunt finally content and full after so long your exhaustion drags you into a deep slumber. 

Plug!Choso who tightly cuddles you to him as you both sleep. The two of you twisted up like a pretzel in a mess of limbs with you practically smashed between Choso and the wall. 

Your XL twin bed clearly wasn't meant to comfortably fit two people like this. 

You’re still mostly asleep though, softly groaning as the cheery morning sun pierces through your thin curtains. You move to throw a pillow over your face only to discover you cannot budge. 

However, you can't say you weren’t used to waking up like this. Choso was always a hardcore cuddler. You missed the mornings you’d wake overheated and skin to skin. Your legs would find themselves intertwined just like this. 

Somehow, Choso would always find a way to fuse the both of your bodies together where every part of him was touching some piece of you.

Typical…

The sleepy thought drifts through your brain, sensing it's still far too early for you to wake up. Wanting to drift back to sleep you burrow your face deeper into his chest, stiffening when your mind does the very opposite and wakes up enough to recall the events of the previous night.

Sobering quickly in the daylight, a sinking feeling begins to suffocate your heart. The now familiar guilt you’ve accumulated over the past month amplifies the hangover etching itself behind your eyes. 

You can’t help but panic as the memories from the night before come rushing back. 

There was still so much uncertainty. 

Having been utterly humbled for the first time in your life you can’t stop the self doubt that questions if he’d even meant everything he said last night—you were both lit as hell. 

You’d meant it though.

Your heart seizes at the thought that this might be the last time you’d wake up in his arms. Before you know it you are crying again trembling as you try not to wake Choso up with your silent tears.

You are quiet enough but Choso is also a light sleeper and stirs awake at the small fit you’re having.

“H-Hey, morning princess *yawns*—wait, what's wrong?”

His tired eyes are full of loving concern as Choso cups your face wiping away your tears before bringing you into his chest, tightening his hand on your head.

“Shit, was I too rough on you last night princess? Fuck, I know how much all this shit means to you I—”

You interrupt Choso, you can’t let him beat himself up over you any longer.

“N-No, Cho—”

Sniffling, you break away from his hold just enough to maneuver yourself to meet his tired eyes. 

You mentally kick yourself—you hated being such a crybaby now but you couldn't help it. You were left feeling so vulnerable after being stripped of all pretenses the night before—it all just started pouring out of you— 

“—d-did you mean it? W-What you said? Cause I—I meant what I said. I-I wanna be with you and Yuji. C-Cook breakfast and f-fall asleep watching movies and go to all his games with you—I’ll never miss another game and—and—”

“Bet.”

Wait…huh?

Even after last night you half-still expect him to be upset with you, you’d still expected you’d have to beg. 

You’re left speechless.

“Bet. Let’s pack up your shit then, princess.”

Choso’s bright grin is near blinding to your weary gaze. 

“I meant everything I said, I could never lie to you.”

Giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he forces you to look him in the eyes. Choso takes in all your looks of uncertainty before melting them away, softly cooing affirmations with his lips fluttering over yours. You’re so needy for his touch as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him even closer.

Not being able to resist your body’s calls for him, you soon find yourself underneath Choso who rubs his morning wood against your core still soaked with his essence from the night before.

Choso smirks down at you, the cockiness back in his voice.

“What I say before? You’re my family—Fuck those bitches and fuck your parents—I got you.”

Plug!Choso, who doesn’t know what time it is but knows he has to go pick up Yuji from his friends soon. He also doesn’t know if he should expect your nosy ass sorority sisters to barge in again. Still, that doesn’t stop him from sinking into your sopping heat once more, never taking his lips off of you. 

Unlike the fervor of last night, his strokes are slow. The anger and intensity are gone, but the passion still remains simmering under your skin. Choso is savoring every bit of you as he devours your mewls, drinking them down along with any lingering unsureties. 

But, fuck—he doesn't feel like he’ll be able to keep himself from cumming inside you from now on. Not when you’d be living with him and Yuji, acting all domestic like. 

Images of a would-be future with you swirl in his mind—you pregnant, giggling at Yuji when he jumps in surprise from feeling the baby kick—your belly growing so large you had to cradle a hand underneath when you adorably waddled from room-to-room—the day of delivery when you both finally get to meet the child you cr—

—MUTHRFUUUUH!

Choso’s eyes roll towards the ceiling as he whines loudly, his whole body is shivering along with his premature release. Buckets of his viscous seed slosh in your womb with every sloppy stutter of his hips, pushing the mass overflow of his cum out of your swollen hole and down the crack of your ass.

Fucking you through his overstimulation, your cries only fuel his intent to impregnate you. The want for the sensual intimacy that slow fucking brings after a reconciliation being overtaken by the intense primal urge to put a baby in your belly.

There was no need for any additional vocalizations of affection when Choso is so adamantly reciprocating your feelings, his creamy cum filling you with promises of his devotion which he fucks even deeper into your womb. 

You aren’t able to recall the last time you felt this satisfied. Working so hard to meet everyone else’s standards was exhausting and you didn’t regret your choice.

You had no plans now other than being with Choso. 

And contrary to the dread of what you had previously thought deviating off course would be like—it frees you. You love and trust Choso enough to let go of all of it and just let life take you where it would.

You’d be content as long as you have him and Yuji. 

Choso knows this yet even so, he is still on a mission to add a fourth to your new little family sooner rather than later. 

He knew you were speaking of the future when you said you’d have his kid the night before but—why delay the inevitable? 

Choso needed to fill you up at least 2 more times before he’d let you leave this bed—no matter how many of your sorority sisters would walk in—they could watch for all he cares.

Yeah at this rate you’d definitely be pregnant by the start of school next year.

Shit, he’d have to go buy a ring soon.

⋙ how was that? holy hell i think this is the longest fic i've written lol. i wanted to take my time with this because although brat taming isn't hard i still wanted to capture the essence of choso. he can be mean enough to do it he's definitely going to internally struggle a bit and be our whiny feral lil baby gworl at the end lol.

taglist will be in a reblog in the morning. needed to get this out and then go to bed. i might also edit it a bit as well. as some of it wasn't proofed.

reblogs and comments so appreciated, i wanna know what u think, send me asks too!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you. 

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then… 

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before. 

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him. 

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man? 

Who is that? 

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering? 

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia. 

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it? 

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know. 

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake. 

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust. 

A mistake. 

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake. 

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that. 

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake. 

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors. 

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless. 

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself. 

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki. 

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him. 

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye. 

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him. 

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him. 

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did. 

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently. 

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.” 

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?” 

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild. 

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy. 

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him. 

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused. 

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth. 

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has. 

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could. 

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away. 

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached. 

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is. 

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum. 

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.” 

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room. 

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before. 

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia. 

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born. 

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City. 

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go. 

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings. 

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone. 

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly. 

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive. 

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in. 

Odasaku saved him. 

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed. 

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat. 

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it. 

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out. 

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying. 

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,�� Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?” 

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway. 

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed. 

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building. 

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him. 

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports. 

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks. 

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place. 

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead. 

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger. 

[nyx-umbrakinesis]

Female Reader!

Impromptu smut killing my friends led to this so enjoy me ignoring my WIP list and asks... I am not editing this... It's pure rough draft smut again 😂 I'm being tortured rn to post it lmao...

Alastor x FReader.

CW: P in V sex, lots of talking from Alastor, radio broadcasting. No editing; no beta; we're going in raw, WE DIE LIKE ADAM!

(See male reader version here)

Here's...

Scream For Me.

(Fem Reader!)

Alastor's eyes gleam with excitement as he obliges your request, to act like you're in a broadcast as he fucks you on the control panel.

His voice taking on the smooth, seductive cadence of his radio persona, the radio overlay seamless as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

"Welcome back to the airwaves, my dear listeners. We have a very special guest in the studio tonight - an exquisite Sinner! Who's been brought to her knees by the Radio Demon himself. She's got a mouthwatering pair of tits, a luscious ass, and a swollen little clit that's just begging to be played with."

He reaches up, tweaking your nipples as he continues to describe your body to his imaginary audience, his voice dripping with sarcasm and lust.

"But the real treat here, folks, is her tight little cunt."

Alastor grunts as he buries himself inside you, his fingers digging into your hips as he picks up the pace, his voice growing more urgent with each passing second.

"She's soaked, practically drowning in her own juices. And the sounds she makes, oh the sounds... They're like music to my ears, a symphony of lust and desire that has me on the edge of sanity."

He leans in, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he whispers in a low, husky voice.

"You're mine. My personal plaything. And I'm going to make you cum harder than you ever have before, right here on the airwaves for everyone to hear."

You moan, body trembling cunt spasming, as you cling to him desperately while he takes you without mercy.

"I'm going to keep fucking you until you can't take it anymore."

As Alastor continues to narrate your intimate encounter, his words become more explicit and crude, pushing the boundaries of decency and fueling your mutual desire.

"Look at you! You're a mess. Your makeup's smeared, your hair's a tangled mess, and you're covered in sweat and cum. But you're still so fucking beautiful, so incredibly sexy. I can't get enough of you."

His thrusts become more erratic, his movements more aggressive as he approaches his peak, his voice rising in volume and intensity.

"I'm going to fill you up, Princess. I'm going to flood your cunt with my seed, marking you as mine for all eternity."

Alastor's words send a surge of pleasure through you, and you moan loudly, your body writhing under his relentless assault. The thought of being 'broadcasted' to an unknown number of listeners adds a thrill to your encounter, pushing you further into the realm of ecstasy.

"Oh god... yes... I'm yours... I'll do anything for you..." You pant, your voice filled with desire and submission.

Alastor's grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. The sensations build within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

"I'm going to cum... Alastor..."

"And those tits... So perfect for playing with while I'm balls deep inside you... Scream for me."

Alastor's words push you over the edge, and you cry out in pleasure as your body convulses in an intense, shattering orgasm. He doesn't stop, though, continuing to pound into you relentlessly as wave after wave of euphoria crashes over you, cunt clenching hard, vision going white with pleasure.

His grip on your hips becomes almost painful, his movements rough and uncontrolled as he chases his own release, driven by the sight and sound of you, the feel of you clenching around him making him make his own delicious sounds.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, he releases his seed deep inside you, filling you up, flooding you.

"And there it is, folks! The sweet sound of this sweet sinners surrender. Her body convulsing, her voice screaming out in ecstasy as I claim her yet again. And now, I'm now painting her insides with my seed, branding her as mine for all eternity."

As Alastor continues to speak into the microphone, his words grow more ragged, more primal, reflecting the intensity of his own climax.

"Feel me, Darling. Feel my cum filling you up, making you mine."

His thrusts become slower, more measured as he savors the sensation of release, his body still convulsing with aftershocks of pleasure.

"That's it, my dear. Take it all. Let every last drop of my seed fill you up, marking you as mine."

As Alastor finally stills, his body spent and satisfied, he leans in to press a tender kiss to your lips, his voice softening as he addresses you directly once more.

"You were amazing, Sweetheart. Truly breathtaking. And remember, no matter where this journey takes us, you will always be mine."

He withdraws from you slowly, his semen trickling from your sated cunt as he moves aside to allow you to rest and recover from your intense encounter. As he does so, he reaches out to gently caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust, affection, and pride.

"Thank you, Alastor," you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse from moaning and your body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. "It was... incredible."

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth and love radiating from him. For the first time in your life, you truly feel seen, understood, and accepted for who you are, flaws and all.

"I love you," you murmur, the words slipping past your lips without hesitation or fear.

Alastor's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with joy as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips.

"And I love you, Dearest Heart," he whispers against your mouth. "Now and forever."

(unbeknownst to you, he had actually been broadcasting the whole time, not just pretending.)

[theoldsports]

Mirror

Coriolanus Snow x Reader. 6.1k words.

18+ some smut, but it’s dicey. dubcon, biting, fingering, nudity, nonconsensual touch, drugs/alcohol? rehab discussion briefly, threats of violence, the shower, struggle against media, one reference to a line from scripture, possessiveness, manipulation. it’s dark. prolonged exposure to it is bad for you.

longest one yet! chronologically follows Married 1+2 in the TRUCULENT series fairly rapidly. i really learned to love this one. upon editing, this story became way more about gaslighting and headfucking someone good and hard into relying on you. special thank you to @heavqn for beta-ing and ridiculous amounts of support and ideas. a lot of our pre-editing convos made this make much more sense to me. + votes are in: next installment/current WIP will be the wedding.

CLICK FOR MORE! CAN BE READ AS SERIES OR STANDALONE

The hand against her shoulder shook her for a moment, then much faster. The shaking lasted seconds or even minutes before [Y/N] pried her eyes open. Everything in the bedroom looked too real, too clear. Coriolanus stood above her. His hand had been doing the shaking. He looked like he had just returned from a run due to his clothes and sweat-stained hair. His hair had grown back more beautifully than before. [Y/N] remembered seeing him when she saw him in the stacks of Philosophy books at the library right after he had returned from Twelve. It was jarring. She had always fancied him a pretty boy even if she loathed him throughout their childhood. He was much different upon his return.

Coriolanus pulled himself up out of the comfort of their bed almost every morning, far too early, to go for a run. [Y/N] didn’t know how she would endure a lifetime of his too chipper morning behavior once they were married. Coming down after a night on morphling was hard and still, she did it over and over again. Coriolanus knew he couldn’t stand in the way of a little fun, but he wouldn’t allow it in their home, so [Y/N] had become involved in using it socially when it was available to her.

“Great. You look like a bum.” Coriolanus said, noting the dark and sunken crescents under her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning. You look like a bum.”

“I’m not a bum.” [Y/N] replied tiredly. She rubbed her eyes.

Last night, [Y/N] had gone out dancing with some of her friends. It was not a bachelorette party in so many words, but it filled the same purpose. It was also a stretch to call the people she went out with friends in so many words, but they filled the same purpose. [Y/N] hadn’t felt that she had people other than Coriolanus for sometime now. She had gotten very drunk and very high the night before, resulting in frustration from Coriolanus when she returned home. He always waited up by the front door when she was gone so long. Coriolanus did not like it when she wasn’t home with him. She would make it up to him somehow— she always did.

“Come on, up with you.” Coriolanus commanded. He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her up to a sitting position. His voice was harsh, but his touch was soft. [Y/N] adored Coriolanus’ careful, yet guiding touches. Unless his dick was in her, he only touched her with care like she was a porcelain figurine.

“Why all the rush?” [Y/N] yawned.

“You don’t remember?” Coriolanus sighed. He was upset in that pompous way of his. He rubbed his creased forehead. “Seriously, [Y/N]. I ask so little of you and you can’t even behave well enough to remember that we have an interview in…” he checked his watch. “Three hours.” Coriolanus said. It was false that he asked so little of [Y/N]. Sometimes, he asked too much.

An hour exclusive on Lucky Flickerman’s daytime chatter joint. Shit. That woke [Y/N] up. “That’s today!” She exclaimed. That was the only caffeine she needed to wake her up. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Coryo. I didn’t think—“

“No. No Coryo. No, you didn’t think,” Coriolanus said. He needn’t elaborate. “Shower. We’ve got to beat downtown traffic.”

[Y/N] swore Coriolanus scheduled things like this at the worst possible times just to make her look worse than him.

She pushed her shaky legs off the bed. As soon as she stood, [Y/N] felt like she was going to fall. Perceptively, Coriolanus stood and placed his ever-vigilant hand on her lower back to steady her. “You’re a mess.” He said flatly. [Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus felt damp from his run. It crossed her mind that Coriolanus drank bitter coffee, did his work on time, smoked very little and went on a run daily. [Y/N] regularly got too high to see straight and cried when she didn’t get her way. Some pair they were.

“‘M not.” she protested messily. She didn’t want to admit that Coriolanus was right.

Coriolanus huffed indignantly, but did not reply otherwise. He walked her to the bathroom like marching a child to the naughty step. [Y/N] was set down on the low counter-top. “I’m concerned you’re going to slip and give yourself a black-eye,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want people to think I hurt you.” He pulled his track jacket off and dropped it on the floor and reached over to take her short magenta teddy off. She felt desperately bare in front of Coriolanus as she was striped mechanically like a child’s doll. The teddy she wore was one of her favorites, with the delicate lace on the bust. She appreciated that Coriolanus was equally as delicate as the lace when handling it. He must have remembered how much [Y/N] liked it. Coriolanus remembered everything.

[Y/N] was simply impressed she had gotten herself into pajamas after last night at all.

“You’re going to ruin yourself if you keep doing this, you know.” Coriolanus said, starting the shower water.

“So you keep telling me,” [Y/N] shivered due to her bareness against the bathroom tile. “I’m sorry.”

Coriolanus deflected with a shake of his head. He turned to her. Coriolanus was obviously thinking about speaking as the water heated up. Hot water whenever desired was Coriolanus’ number one favorite thing about rebuilding the Snow fortune. That’s why he took his showers too hot; to prove that he could. The thought gave him the confidence to speak. “Do I make you feel so ill that you have to run around and treat yourself like this? Did I do something?” The insecurity of that question made [Y/N] raise an eyebrow. Sometimes when she looked at Coriolanus and realized he was still a boy in many regards. Twenty-three wasn’t very old at all. His frontal lobe wasn’t even finished developing. His primary desire was to be enough for himself, for her, and for everyone else too. [Y/N] feared that he worried he hadn’t figured that out yet. The girl was far from figuring that out herself as well. She rarely saw vulnerability slip through the cracks in the finished marble exterior that built Coriolanus Snow. But who knew if what he said was a true feeling of his or not.

“No,” [Y/N] said. She looked down at her manicured toes. “I did this before we were, y’know… You’ve seen me at house parties since the Academy. You know it’s not you.”

“It has to stop,” Coriolanus started, dashing that fear from his mind. [Y/N] permitting a discussion without blocking him out unpowered him to share his concerns. “It worries me when you’re out late with who knows who. With so many people seeing you. It’s not just part of an act, it’s bad for you.” He said, but what he meant to say was it’s bad for me.

“I knew you had jealousy problems, Coriolanus, but being worried you can’t personally compete with your girl’s partying habits is… hilarious.” [Y/N] attempted a joke. She saw the vein in Coriolanus’ neck throb. His eyes got cold when his vulnerability, no matter how shallow, was met with rejection.

“Get in the shower.”

[Y/N] cast her eyes down, took off her panties and did what she was told.

“It’s so hot!” She all but screamed.

[Y/N] let the water scald her skin. She didn’t want to complain at his trying to help her. “You’ll deal with it,” Coriolanus said, sliding the shower door shut behind the both of them. [Y/N] hadn’t even noticed him undressing, but here they were. They had never been in the shower together before. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the circumstances were. “For the record, I don’t have a ‘jealousy problem.’” He said after a moment of allowing [Y/N] hair to get damp enough to shampoo.

“Really?” [Y/N] bit back, reaching clumsily for her shampoo bottle with slippery fingers.

“Really. Jealousy isn’t a problem when you understand what’s rightfully yours,” Coriolanus said. Normally, she blocked Coriolanus out when he spoke like that. Maybe it was physical proximity or toxic prolonged exposure to Coriolanus, but that made her blush red in the face. Ignoring it, [Y/N]’s fingers closed around her pink and brown shampoo bottle, but Coriolanus snatched it out of her fingers effortlessly. “Let me. I want to be sure it gets done,” He muttered with a passive aggressive edge. That attitude seemed like a put-on to [Y/N]. She wondered if he wanted an excuse to be close to her. She made those up sometimes to be close to him. Maybe she was just flattering herself. Coriolanus squeezed some shampoo into his palm and set the bottle down on the shower ledge. “Who were you out with anyway?”

“Um… Some of the girls. Lysistrata. Oh, Clem. Some others.” [Y/N] braced a hand against the damp wall to steady her feet on the slippery ground.

“Clemensia?” Coriolanus asked, sliding his fingers into her hair, careful as ever. It felt newly intimate in a way that Coriolanus typically avoided with her.

“Who else?”

“I see. You know she’s—“

“I know you don’t like her.” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus was silent.

“I don’t like when you go out without me. I just worry.” He finally said.

“I’m sure you do.”

It was silent between them. Coriolanus worked the shampoo into her hair easily. A man known for his rough intensity being gentle with anything was a surprise to her.

“Did you see anyone else?” He asked nonchalantly.

[Y/N] sighed. Even casual conversation turned to interrogation. She wasn’t sure if he meant it, or if it was all he knew how to do. “Do you mean… Was I photographed behaving in some unsightly way? I dunno. I probably was. I wasn’t unfaithful, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Stop.” Coriolanus said, leaving no room for further argument.

It was quiet again. “Thank you for washing my hair. That’s, uh, it’s very kind.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied, coaxing [Y/N] back under the water to rinse out the suds. His long fingers combed back through her hair over and over again. [Y/N], soapy, turned around and stared at Coriolanus’ wet face and hair. Even when appearing like a drowned animal, his imposing figure was statuesque.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him quickly. “I’m sorry I forgot about the interview,” she whispered, barely louder than the shower water. She apologized more than he did, but he responded well to knowing someone other than him was in the wrong. “Do I really look like shit?”

Coriolanus sighed, more familiarly this time. He loved when she needed him. He would insult her all day long if it meant he got to give her more validation later on. “No,” he slipped a hand under her breast and gave it a squeeze, his thumb danced across her nipple. “No, you don’t,” His other hand wormed its way across her cheek to brush away that disgusting makeup residue from the night prior. “You just needed a little polish. Let’s finish up. Go get dressed. Coffee’s on in the kitchen.”

“You poison it?”

Coriolanus frowned exasperatedly. He reached the hand cupping her breast around to her ass and gave it a hard, wet smack. “You bitch.” He smirked.

Sins almost all forgiven.

—

Every time [Y/N] was in a car with Coriolanus, it felt like a coaching session. Hand on her thigh with, don’t say this, say that instead, let me speak first, don’t embarrass me.

No point in elaborating on the most familiar part of their normal day-to-day since it really was habit at this point. [Y/N] always ached to snap back at him after these times. One day, don’t embarrass me was going to hit so hard that she did.

When they got out of the car a few blocks from their destination, [Y/N] had dawned her bright purple sunglasses. Coriolanus hated them and had tried on multiple occasions to buy her new ones to no avail. The daylight was still too bright for her tired eyes, so they were going to be worn on the walk to Capitol News.

After half a block (and so close to a news building), they were swamped by people clicking away at them. It made the bright sun burn hotter. Coriolanus’ white blonde hair and intimidating stature was much too easy to pick out in a crowd for their sunglasses and long jackets to disguise much.

Right now, besides Games news, they were the hottest topic of discussion in the Capitol. Their engagement party had been wild, [Y/N] was typically wild, and Coriolanus was characteristically unwild. It made for good TV.

Coriolanus leaned in to whisper something. [Y/N] couldn’t hear it. All she could do was smile and tell any reporters with microphones ‘no thank you,’ or ‘you’ll have to watch Lucky’s to answer for that.’ Coriolanus merely smiled a smile that was not his smile and said ‘not now folks, we’ll be late,’ or ‘don’t worry about them, Darling.’

[Y/N] was leashed by Coriolanus’ hand on the back of her neck as he guided her through crowds. He had two dressbags of clothes for the show tossed effortlessly over his shoulder as they walked. They were a newsroom’s wetdream. She was exuberant and he was magnetic. And they were both trouble. Power, wealth, youth, stability and status. Everyone liked to watch them at their best and loved to watch them at their worst.

“How do you put up with it, Mr. Snow!” A bland-looking man with a microphone called.

“How was the party last night, [Y/N]!” Called another. They always called [Y/N] by her first name because, frankly, she was fairly certain they didn’t know her maiden name and technically she wasn’t Mrs. Snow yet either. Coriolanus’ grip on her tightened at the question.

She smirked at how the power of her own name took away power from her family and their name; the thing they desperately wanted a morsel of.

Considering a future where she inevitably became Mrs. Snow, she thought about how her lifetime of indiscretions would be tied to Coriolanus forever. She smirked wider at their folie a deux.

[Y/N] felt like a doll again, being pushed by Coriolanus like that. She didn’t hate it entirely, though. She liked it when he manhandled her a little. It helped with all the noise that surrounded them these days to be able to turn her brain off and let Coriolanus handle it for her. She would never admit it, but being a good doll for Coriolanus for the foreseeable future didn’t seem too bad. Her stomach churned wicked for thinking that. It made her antsy to not have an exciting retort in front of reporters. [Y/N] usually did, but her head ached too much this morning. Instead, she looked helplessly up at Coriolanus. He glanced down at her, an eyebrow raised. “Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly, but not too quietly. [Y/N] nodded. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’re almost there.” Coriolanus said like a good husband should. [Y/N] thought about how he was rarely such a good husband when other people weren’t looking. Then why had he seemed to care so much that morning? She must’ve been mistaken about one part or the other.

[Y/N] leaned up and kissed him for in part for his kindness. The crowd aww’d. Kisses were a good way to distract a man. Any man, receiving or watching. Coriolanus’ hand slipped down from her neck to the back of her waist. Her fingers went into the soft hair at the bottom of his neck. She felt him inhale sharply. She knew he hated that. “What was that for?” Coriolanus asked when he pulled away, referring to the kiss.

“Wanted to make sure you were real. None of this feels real.” [Y/N] laughed dizzily. It was true, but she felt stupid saying it. She had spent a lot of time feeling stupid recently and this morning was no exception. The hangover and the whirlwind of voices and flashes had emptied her brain completely. Coriolanus leaned in to whisper in her ear again. This time she caught what he said:

“Stop this. We’ve ten steps until we’re in the building. I’ve told you not to touch my hair.”

He pulled away from her and put on his brilliant, effortless smirk that rich boys his age always had. Coriolanus yanked [Y/N] the remaining distance into the news building.

As soon as they entered, they were whisked away to dress for that afternoon’s broadcast. [Y/N] was dropped into a beautician’s chair to make her face look like someone else’s. She groaned at the duty she held.

Makeup brushes and blowdryers and curling irons and spray bottles of who knows what clouded [Y/N] of vision.

She wished Coriolanus was in her immediate vicinity so she could glance over him and laugh cruelly about how stupid all this is. He was always good for a laugh at the expense of things like this.

“Honey, who does your hair on the regular? I suggest you switch to someone else.” The obscene-looking woman pulling her hair back asked.

[Y/N] laughed, but said nothing. [Y/N] wanted to strangle her.

Not long after that, [Y/N] was pulled up to her feet and forced into a dress that she at least knew she liked. Tight around the waist and thighs, capping off at the knees. It was higher necked, but was so tight that it left little to the imagination. She knew Coriolanus would get frustrated with a fluffy dress, so she picked one that would make his eyes bug out instead. It was off-white with a delicate floral pattern outlined in a brighter white.

[Y/N] looked great. She knew this as she admired the contrasting bulk of the shoulders and flowing sleeves with the clinging exposure of her curves everywhere else. She didn’t exactly look like herself, though. Especially with her hair and makeup done so precisely. She wasn’t precise, she was messy. Precise didn’t suit her.

[Y/N] wondered if the her that stared back in the full-body mirror was the real her now. Messy her was gone. A Capitol wife remained. A doll.

She slid her black ankle-breaking heels on and shook the thought away as she entered the sound stage.

[Y/N] always forgot how noble Coriolanus was capable of looking, considering he was distinctly the opposite. She stared at him. Mauve coat, black trousers, crisp white undershirt, white tie, white rose. Clearly, he had let someone touch his hair. Even if it was a stylist.

Coriolanus gestured for her to walk over to where he stood and Lucky sat. It was difficult to walk with the dress clinging around her knees and the height of her heels. Her short, intentional steps felt demeaning. Most things in her life felt vaguely demeaning, but she kept turning a purposeful blind eye. The stage lights were too bright. Coriolanus’ teeth were too white for the amount of throats he’d ripped out.

Capitol magic.

“Hello Darling. You look lovely.” Coriolanus said as she approached. He took his hand in her and kissed it. Coriolanus’ eyes never looked up at hers because they were too busy looking at how her body fit the dress.

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied neutrally. “Hi Lucky. Green’s really your color.” [Y/N] lied. Lucky’s green, wintery tux was vile and everyone with eyes and a modicum of taste would see that.

Coriolanus coughed into his shoulder to cover a scoff. He wrapped a strong arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

“Thank you, [Y/N]! Good to see you, pleasantries, pleasantries, yada yada. Shall I call you [Y/N]…? Mrs. Snow… The network doesn’t really know what the hell to do with you.” Lucky beamed from his chair.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really Mrs. Snow yet. It’s not necessary. My first name will do. I’m not picky, though.”

She felt Coriolanus deflate a little beside her as he dropped her waist and folded himself into the gaudy patterned armchair the network provided. [Y/N] felt a sting of guilt. Maybe she should have let him carry on with the Mrs. Snow thing. Coriolanus would have to get over it. “Sure thing, hon. Anyway, go ahead. Take your seat. Some of these questions are tacky, tacky, tacky, but do your best and humor us. Panem wants to know the real you.” Lucky beamed.

“I’m sure they do.” They don’t. And they won’t.

“You kids really are… Wow, lovely to share the stage with. You make me look old and sad comparatively, damn,” Lucky joked. “It’s been a good while since I’ve had the pleasure of sitting alongside Coriolanus like this. You were a child then. Crazy, the passage of time.” He continued.

“Lucky, it’s always an honor.” Coriolanus said. Coriolanus hated Lucky. [Y/N] marveled at his ability to lie so gracefully.

A group of production folks stepped out of the shadows to give them bottled water and let them know the show was about to begin. The studio audience poured in through side doors.

[Y/N] quickly leaned over to Coriolanus. “I thought this was a pre-tape.” She whispered frantically.

“You didn’t remember this interview existed three hours ago. You’ll deal with it.” He replied, with a note of his own panic he was unable to squash.

Fifteen minutes of seating and then a live camera inches away from [Y/N]’s face. “Well, we really thank you for having us on your show, Lucky.” She smiled. The audience analyzed them like vultures. This was the most wicked game designed for them, but Coriolanus didn’t lose. [Y/N] would have to be perfect.

“Of course! Always a pleasure, [Y/N]. Let’s get to some of these questions on my handy little list of questions, huh?” A few shallow questions about what designers they were wearing, what their morning routine was like to look so gorgeous, Coriolanus leaning over to hold [Y/N]’s hand across their chairs (the audience sighed lovingly). Coriolanus curls, stubborn as he was, fell out of the hold of the hairspray like they always did. She smirked and reached up with her left hand to push them out of his eyes. Oh, he hated that. [Y/N] could tell. Lovely.

“Oh, look at that ring,” Lucky said. “The ring we’ve all been talking about. Let’s get a closeup on that rock,” the camera pushed in to [Y/N]’s hand obediently. A large ruby mounted on a white gold band. She had been assured it was real. [Y/N]’s other jewelry, silver, sat patina-ing in a wooden box because of it.“Beautiful. Must’ve cost you a pretty penny, Coriolanus.”

“Yes, Coryo, how much did it cost?” [Y/N] asked. Coriolanus shifted in his seat. Money was not a thing Coriolanus discussed.

“A bit.” He replied stiffly. [Y/N] grinned.

“Uh, you both are mighty famous for that ring. I suppose it’s time to discuss that crazy engagement party. I was there to witness the whole thing firsthand, of course.”

The Snows-to-be nodded.

“These questions can get uncomfortable, but I’m sure you’ll answer all the same. So, your relationship seems… Alarmingly happy today for two people debating splitting over infidelity at the celebration of their engagement.”

“Please, we only debate it when I’m drunk, Lucky.” [Y/N] said much to the audiences joy. They laughed heartily.

“Which is too often, if you want my opinion.” Another laugh from the audience for Coriolanus, never one for being outdone. She knew, in his mind, she deserved that.

“Rehabilitation is always an opinion.” Lucky joked darkly, not knowing what to say.

“Being wild is fun, though, isn’t it? I’m not from privilege and grace as much as my fiancé. He’s always been elegant. I’m learning; I have a good teacher. But you only get your youth once. You would know, I’m sure, Lucky. When someone loves you as much as Coriolanus loves me… He always forgives my mistakes. He’s too good me. He’s patient.” [Y/N] said. He was patient, but it came out in the way that he played the long game. His impulses along the way were markedly less patient. Coriolanus squeezed her hand tightly as a warning.

Lucky smiled bitterly. “Well, I’m sure he’ll learn to keep you on a shorter leash eventually. Actually, I hear you were out last night as well.”

Fuck.

“Yes, bachelorette party, you see.”

“The studio’s telling me,” Lucky clutched his earpiece. “They have some photos from your last wild night as an unwed woman.”

“Oh. Is that so…? Haha,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus squeeze her hand until her own knuckles were white. Neither one of them had a clue what they were about to throw up on that screen. Coriolanus inhaled shakily, but maintained neutrality. “Can’t be worse than the sides you saw of us a few months back at the—“

It was worse.

The dress was short, but Coriolanus had known that when she stopped into his office to tell him she was going out. He had responded with a “That? Really? Okay…” with quiet anger that the dress wasn’t being worn for him.

Then there was the dreaded miniature morphling vile empty between her fingers. It was obvious she was trying to talk with her friends under the flashing lights. They were all wearing similar fare. Six or seven drunk, high young women pictured together wasn’t that bad, even for some of the old school Capitol prudes.

None was more damning than the strange man’s hand planted firmly on [Y/N]’s ass. His smile was too wide. The [Y/N]’s in the picture’s grimace at the stranger over her shoulder was uncomfortable. It screamed DON’T-TOUCH-ME. She looked like she was telling him to stop, but her eyes were wide and her lips were pulled into a frown. The subtext implied by the woman in the photo was Coriolanus is going to kill me. She sighed. The crowd gasped. Coriolanus inhaled sharply.

[Y/N] had said her behavior the night before was inherently not unfaithful. Coriolanus didn’t feel the need to not believe her since she was the one who brought it up. The apples of Coriolanus cheeks grew red with rage. The stranger’s smile was too big. He knew he was touching Coriolanus Snow’s fiancée. He knew was taking advantage of a helpless girl and her friends. He knew he was defacing someone else’s property.

Coriolanus Snow was going to find this man and ruin his life.

[Y/N], humiliated, looked over at Coriolanus. She had a hazy memory of telling some guy to “knock it off” the night before. Truly, she did remember this, but of course, she hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. This was a part of her life she had had to deal with since she was a young woman. This man’s action was undesired, but not unexpected. Taking in the photo and the look on his fiancée’s face as she shook her head slowly at him was enough for Coriolanus to determine that this touch was unwanted. [Y/N] looked guilty, but she had little reason to be. He hated seeing that look on her face in a situation he didn’t create.

[Y/N]’s only crime was going out without Coriolanus. She knew he hated when she did that. If he had been there, he would’ve handled the situation there and then. She was never going out alone again. She needed him. Right now, he was going to be the man she needed.

“Take that off the screen.” Coriolanus said firmly to Lucky.

“Well, first, let’s have—“ Lucky tried.

“I don’t think you heard me. I said take it down,” Coriolanus continued. He turned to the cameras and those behind them. “Now.”

Coriolanus watched a young woman at a screen immediately buckle at his demand and begin scrambling to pull the image. The show’s graphic was returned to the monitor. “Thank you,” Coriolanus said in the woman’s direction. [Y/N] stared at the floor, beet-red. She was trying not to cry, but what would it matter if she did? Coriolanus knew too well the meaning of her tell-tale sniffle and avoidant eye contact. He turned back to Lucky. “I think that was extremely rude of you and your production group to put up an image, without consent, of my fiancée getting touched without consent. It’s apparent to me from looking at that photo that my fiancée did not welcome that touch. Would you agree?”

“Possibly, but since the engagement party—“

“I think you forget I trust [Y/N]. Are you the one marrying her?”

“… No. But hey, this is my show, kid. Let’s get back on track with—“

Coriolanus knew better than most people that what was said and done on live television was as good as forever. He would use that to his advantage. Nobody came for Coriolanus’ belongings and left with the hand that tried to snatch them.

“I’m not finished,” Coriolanus snapped. [Y/N] reached for Coriolanus’ hand again to signal that that’s enough, dear. He took it and looked over at her. He was angry; normal person righteous angry. Not manic, not cold. That was a new face. Coriolanus had so many pretend faces that clipped on and off. [Y/N] had previously thought she had seen them all. “Were you wanting that touch, Princess? Did you know him?” He asked [Y/N]. She shook her head with her eyes damp and downcast. “As I implied, you don’t know us. Don’t ever embarrass my fiancée like that,” or me, [Y/N] assumed his subtext as he spoke. “Whoever this moron in the picture is has another thing coming. What kind of self-respecting news network aims to humiliate guests for something they couldn’t help?” Coriolanus said. [Y/N]’s heart raced. He cared. Maybe it was for selfish reasons, but his support mattered. No one else was going to do it.

Sometimes he was absent, yes, but Coriolanus always came through when [Y/N] needed him. She was grateful that he wasn’t angry with her, even if that part came later in private. She was grateful for now that his way of easing his own pain eased hers too. She could get used to that. [Y/N] let out tears of temporary relief and reached for the box of tissues on the round table between guests and host.

Coriolanus stared Lucky down and settled himself further back in his seat with a sigh. “Next question?” The blonde man said.

—

The ride home was nearly silent. [Y/N] had started crying the second she sat down in the car. Coriolanus hadn’t say anything, but he kept his hand in hers the whole time. He didn’t even fight to let go when his palm got sweaty. [Y/N] pulled his hand close to her chest. She had done nothing wrong, yet she felt that everything was her fault. She had failed Coriolanus. This media wreck wasn’t just a game for photographers and journalists, this one embarrassed her genuinely. This one embarrassed Coriolanus and she was constantly told she was not supposed to do that. Don’t embarrass me rang against every corner in her brain.

The car stopped in front of their building. Coriolanus, as he always seemed to, opened her car door before the driver could get out. Coriolanus thanked the driver and put an arm around [Y/N] and led her up the stairs to their townhouse. The door closed behind them. Coriolanus locked the deadbolt with a heavy clunk. Safe from eyes that watched every failure with glee. They could be people again.

“I’m sorry, Coriolanus,” [Y/N] said, mascara down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know him. Really, I didn’t. I told you this morning. I—I didn’t know him.” She backed herself protectively towards the couch and away from Coriolanus in learned preemptive panic.

“I know,” Coriolanus said. “Nobody but me gets to touch you like that. I know you’re smart enough to understand that. I cannot fathom how another man thinks he can do that to you and get away with it.”

“That’s… That’s been happening my whole adult life, you can’t magically make that—“

“I don’t think you understand, Darling. I can. I don’t want to know that anyone has ever touched you like that. I swear on my mother’s grave. I will fucking murder them.” His winter blue eyes could vaporize a perpetrator on the spot.

“Coriolanus, that’s extreme.”

“Not to me. Not when you’re involved.”

“You can’t hurt people that looked at me funny. It’s hardly a crime.”

“Isn’t their some old line about not coveting another man’s wife?”

“…Yes. You have a future. You can’t interrupt your opportunities because some shithead—“

“It won’t interrupt anything. Wouldn’t it make you feel better to know that a creep like that was off the streets?”

“…Yes.”

“Well, then we agree. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

[Y/N] blushed and looked down. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t be. I’m not angry with you about this. I know I can trust you. I do. You know I do. I don’t worry about that. I cannot trust other people around you, especially when you use that filthy drug,” Coriolanus said. He extend a hand to [Y/N] as he approached like he would approaching a scared animal. That hand went slowly to [Y/N]’s waist. Coriolanus pulled her in closer so they were chest to chest. “You are not going out without me to some party like that ever again. Disrespecting you like that means disrespecting me, too. I won’t stand for either.”

“I—“

Coriolanus was going to get what he wanted all along: [Y/N] alone with him always. How could she need anyone else? Everyone out there wanted to hurt her, touch her, make her feel bad about herself. Not Coriolanus. Perhaps, he should be thanking that man instead of cutting his fingers off one at a time. “No. Let me keep you safe. That’s all this is. I want you safe. I’m to be your husband. That’s my job. Won’t you let me do my job, [Y/N]?” He said too calmly. His blue eyes stared deep into hers. Coriolanus had a fantastic talent for telling someone something and letting them think it was a question; letting them think it was their idea— letting them they had a choice.

He was right. He did make her feel safe. Holding on to her like this made her melt. In Coriolanus’ arms, [Y/N] felt secure. He was moody, but Coriolanus was frustratingly reliable. He wanted to make himself the bedrock of [Y/N]’s life. She had no choice but to allow him that. [Y/N] breathed out and he felt her breath fan out across his face. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let that happen to you anymore. I promise.” Coriolanus muttered.

He tipped his mouth slowly into her neck and hungrily sucked at the place below her ear. A gasp caught in [Y/N]’s throat at the surprise sensation. Her knees wobbled and her dress and shoes didn’t make it any better. She put her arms around his neck for support. “Coriolanus…” she whispered. Coriolanus loved the vibration in her throat beneath his lips.

Helplessly, [Y/N] tipped her head back to give her fiancé what he wanted. Coriolanus had sucked a few hickeys on her neck and chest before, sure. Never before had he bitten her. This time, he bit her hard enough to bruise and scab. It was harder to cover an indent with makeup than a simple bruise. If she were to go out even to the grocery store, other men had to understand that [Y/N] was off the market. If an engagement ring wouldn’t do it, this would. Coriolanus bit her with such force that the tears started to well again.

The position they were in felt like a dance. His hands on her waist, hers on his neck, their bodies flush together. [Y/N] fell deeper into the black hole of Coriolanus Snow. This must have been on purpose. He knew she loved to dance with him and made it a weapon. Damn him. She would always say yes to a dance, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t this whole relationship just a fucked up dance?

The man reached one hand down and pulled up [Y/N]’s dress as much as he could get it up and tore it the rest of the way. [Y/N] could swear she had been torn out of a third of her clothing recently. Coriolanus pushed her panties to the side and pushed his fingers into her. It would have hurt if she hadn’t been so wet to begin with. She bobbled on her heels. Once Coriolanus has pumped himself fingertip to hand in and out of her a handful of times, [Y/N] was holding herself up entirely by his neck and shoulders and the fingers that impaled her tenderly. Coriolanus had complete control over the situation. The only thing left for her to do was moan and she didn’t hold back.

Coriolanus was unrelenting. He marked a disturbing black and blue column on her throat the way he liked. Slowly, the pair rocked back and forth from foot to foot, as Coriolanus nipped, fucked and sucked. A fucked-up slow dance to the song of the traffic on the other side of the window.

MORE FROM THE TRUCULENT SERIES

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar

apologies as always for the little tags that couldn’t.

[reverie-starlight]

happy birthday miya twins!!!!

here’s an atsumu fic to celebrate and also to make up for the fact only osamu got one last year :3

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. very very very very soft because of course it is. also a bit suggestive at the start. not edited, it’s like 1 am :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you’ve had a busy morning.

atsumu’s birthday just so happened to fall on a saturday this year, meaning you get him all to yourself for the first few hours.

you’ve been up since six, finalizing some top secret plans with your friend over the phone and decorating the living room with tons of streamers and a few balloons.

it’s a miracle you were even able to get out of bed- usually atsumu’s got his arms wrapped around you with the same amount of strength a child grips their favourite teddy with, but you managed to escape.

now that it’s nearly eight o’clock and all the preparations are done, you quickly make your way back to the bedroom and slip under the covers so you can be his wake up call.

pressing kisses against his bare chest has always been the easiest way to pull him out of his dreams, and today is no exception. atsumu stirs a bit and slowly opens his eyes, smiling slightly when he realizes what’s going on.

“happy birthday, lover boy,” you murmur right against his heart.

his hand finds the back of your head with one hand and scratches at your scalp while he rubs sleep from his eyes with the other. “thanks, baby.”

you move up a bit so that you’re now hovering over him, face to face. “sleep well?”

he yawns and rests his arms around your waist. “mhm, ‘cause I dreamt about ya.”

you smile down at him and mindlessly stroke your knuckles over either side of his jaw. he’s infuriatingly pretty despite just waking up. his hair is a mess, his eyes are still bleary, but he’s absolutely the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. “yeah? what exactly did you dream about?”

he snickers. “if I told ya, I have a feelin’ this mornin’d take a very different turn.” his accent always gets thicker when he’s sleepy.

you giggle and kiss his nose, loving how it scrunches slightly. “how scandalous,” you say, then lean closer to his ear. “maybe I can try to recreate it later.”

his grip tightens. “don’t make a man a promise, baby, ‘specially when he’s got a busy day.”

you laugh and kiss him properly this time before peeling yourself off of him. “I know, I know… so why don’t you get ready and have some breakfast with me before we head to your brother’s?”

he groans and reaches out for you, but you’re just quick enough to scurry off the edge and over to the door. “come on, baby, I made your favourite.”

ten minutes later, he’s walking into the kitchen with freshly brushed teeth and an appreciative look on his face as he takes in the decorations. “babe…” he starts, pouting at you. “you didn’t have to do all this for me…”

you scoff and welcome him into your arms as you lean against the counter. “I’ve done much more for much less when it comes to you, baby, a few decorations for your birthday is light work.”

he hides his smile in your neck and presses kisses in a line up to your cheek. “I love ya so much.”

you return the sentiment and turn around to plate his food. “eat up, handsome, you’re going to need your energy today.”

a long day of birthday celebrations followed, starting with a nice lunch and visit with osamu, his partner and mamma miya that lasted well into the afternoon.

after that was a nice private party at the twins’ favourite restaurant (planned by you and your future in-law) with all their friends, old and new, thankfully not lasting too late into the night (suna joked that it was planned this way so they’d actually be able to remember their party tomorrow morning).

now, on your way home with only a slightly tipsy atsumu in your passenger seat, there’s only one stop left to make before heading home.

atsumu perks up as he feels the car slow to a stop and looks out the window curiously, cutting off his little rant about how happy he was to see everyone. “hm? why’re we here, baby?” he recognizes your friend’s house, but doesn’t recall having plans to visit with her and her husband tonight.

you put the car in park and turn to face him, clearing your throat. “baby,” you grab his hand. “I have a few gifts for you to open at home, but this is my main present to you this year.”

the gears in his head are turning, but he doesn’t have much to go off of. you’re being a bit cryptic. “okay… what does that have to do with coming here?”

you just smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, prompting him to stay put. soon enough you’re knocking on the door and he watches you disappear into the house momentarily.

you pop your head back out a few minutes later, sporting a bright, excited smile, waving him inside.

he’s greeted by your friend wishing him a happy birthday, a mischievous look on her face, and he looks between the two of you suspiciously. “what’s going on?”

you both just laugh and lead him to the living room, where a medium sized cardboard box sits on the ground, a red bow strapped to the side of it.

your friend quickly makes her way out of the room, giggling to herself about something, and then it’s just him and you and whatever is in that box.

“go look inside, atsumu,” you nod.

he moves towards it slowly, unsure, the entire situation filling him with both curiosity and nerves.

and then the box moves. and a small whine comes from inside.

he whips his head around to look at you. “no fucking way.”

you giggle and nudge him closer. he’s now looming over the box and staring down at what he assumes is his very own puppy.

“ya didn’t,” he starts, leaning down to pick the poor thing up. “angel, please don’t tell me this is a prank, I’m already attached.”

he can’t believe this is happening. the two of you have been talking about getting a dog for a year now, having long conversations about how it just felt right for you both. his head is spinning, but he knows it’s no longer because of the alcohol.

you grin, clearly proud of yourself for pulling off this surprise, and move closer to him and the dog. the furry bundle stops shaking as soon as you rest your palm on its head to pet it.

despite everything, atsumu picks up on that. “it recognizes you?”

you nod and gesture in the direction your friend went in a few minutes ago. “her dog had a litter of puppies a couple months ago and she offered us one if we wanted. I just never told you because I wanted it to be part of your gift. I’ve been coming over every week to try to get her used to our scents.”

atsumu gets a little teary eyed as he stares at the puppy and turns his head to kiss your cheek. “thank you so much, this is the best birthday ever.”

you watch as he interacts with her, heart warming at his childlike expression. it makes your early morning start time more than worth it.

eventually your friend comes back with a bag of all the doggy supplies you’ve been hiding at her place, and then you’re on your way home, dog in lap, and smiles on your faces.

he spends the rest of the car ride rambling on about what to name her, where her bed is going to go and what tricks he’s eventually going to teach her.

his excitement is contagious, apparently because as soon as you step into the apartment, you finally let it sink in that you have a dog with atsumu.

you stare at him as he “shows her around” and your entire body fills with love.

one more year down and hopefully forever to go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

oh to be doggy co-parents with atsumu 🥹🫶🏻

[theangrycomet-art]

TFA: Ariel/Elita 1's Squadron, Team Orthia

I fell down the wiki rabbit hole last night and now I have these.

Everyone's heights are off/going to change in the future because I wasn't sure on everyone's alts when I was first drawing out the line up.

I mostly just wanted to get ideas down on paper.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

Transcript of my Handwriting Plus Other Lore:

Nothing here’s set in stone I just wrote down ideas/compiled thoughts as they came to me.

edit: Changed Lancer’s Profile Info to match new ideas I have

TFA: Sheild of Solus

Operation: Failsafe

Purpose: To sabotage any and all Decipticon efforts of gaining any headway in this war. First, start off with the infiltrators, next, hit them where it hurts.

After discovering a spy had infiltrated their ranks, Alpha Trion took it upon himself to assemble a team to sabotage any Decipticon efforts to gain a foothold on Cybertron, hoping that they would be able to counter any threats on Cybertron.

Ariel/Elita-1

Commander and the Leader

High-ranking member of the Elite Guard

Alpha Trion’s inside eyes

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Heavy Duty Truck -> Monster Truck

Special Upgrade: Classified

Good-Morningstar Mace: Morning star with detachable head

Laser Kusarigama: This weighted chain serves Elita well when she needs to tie up the enemy (or retrieve your teammate as her gravity fluctuates again)

Tidbit: One of the few of the Elite Guard to not have gone to the Academy, Elita rose through the ranks through her skill and ingenuity, despite other’s misgivings. A bit rough around the edges, she is always there for her fellow bots. When her former mentor requested her aid in his mission, she had no hesitation joining. (It helped that it got her away from her more tiresome coworkers)  

Chromia

Second in Command

Recon Specialist, Infiltrator

Former Intelligence Officer; she retired when she was not allowed to investigate Highbrows abrupt disappearance and opened a private investigator business.

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Trike -> Trike (like Harley-Davidson Tri Glide Ultra)

Special Upgrade: Lockpick: with enough time she can pick any lock and hack into any systems with the extensions in her servos. However, this can takes a lot of her processing power and leaves her vulnerable.

Laser Sabre: Good for clashing blades and slipping between the seams of an enemy’s armor

Tidbit: Despite her worrying over her teammates, Chromia has a habit of diving helm first into her work with little disregard for herself, whether that be forgetting to refuel and recharge or tempting fate with more self-sacrificial tendencies. She’s been working on it, but bad habits die hard…

Novastar

Search and Rescue, Transportation and Retrieval

Served in the tail-end of the Great War

Worked previously in Search and Rescue with her partners Inferno and Red Alert

Through this line of work, she developed extensive connections.

AltMode: Cybertronian Truck -> Narrowbed Truck

Special Upgrade: Furnace: Nova is able to generate massive bursts of flame, and she has refined the practice into an art. The flames on her head are no only an aesthetic choice, but an outlet for the excess heat she generates. These are easily extinguished; a fact Inferno took great joy in abusing the damn firetruck bot.

Blowtorch: During her time in field during the Great War, Nova lost her left servo to a Decpticon when retrieving soldiers from behind enemy lines. She had it replaced with a blowtorch prothesis that allows her to pinpoint flames to temperatures that can cut through even the toughest of materials- temperatures that otherwise would melt her frames

Tidbit: Novastar has been trying to locate Inferno, who has recently gone MIA after responding to an off-planet distress beacon with a new recruit with little to no luck. She is hoping the new job title will grant her greater resources to expand her search.

Greenlight

Engineer

“The Miracle Worker”

A student of WheelJack’s

Greenlight’s inventions can be brilliantly or devastating (or if she’s lucky) both. She tends to get attached to her devices, however, and gets rather despondent when they are broken or do not work as intended.

Aloof, she doesn’t see the need to waste much time with small talk. It requires a bot with a lot of patience (and ability to pester) to get her to come out of her shell

Alt Mode: Cybertronian Offroader

Special Upgrade: Tasers: Though not a combat bot, Greenlight saw fit to mod herself out with some decent defense. The tasers stored in her arms can generate enough volts of electricity that can through bots thrice her size flat on their backs.

Boom Cannon: A weapon still in its testing phases, she has been building it up from stolen Decepticon specs in her free time.

Tidbit: If asked, Greenlight will say that she agreed to sign up to get out of community service for accidentally demoing a perfectly good lab with one of her inventions. While partly true, a larger part of why she joined was because she didn’t want Lancer doing this alone.

Lancer [Edited]

Researcher

Unofficial Medic

Student of Perceptor

Alt Mode: n/a, missing T-Cog

Special Upgrade: FlipScreen: her “skirt” doubles as computers, monitor and keyboard included. This grants her access to ALL of her files and more importantly allows her to run any necessary scans, analysis, or algorithms she needs when or wherever she needs. It is also a bold fashion statement

BackPack Variety Hour: She has a variety of “backpacks” each serving different purposes, though if you ask anyone but Lancer they all look identical. Despite their incredible weight, she carries them with ease.

Backup Generator: Via the generator on her back, she could keep a city fully powered without straining her spark. Most of this energy goes into the powering the extra processors she has stored in her “skirt”

Star Splitter: a powerful laser spear, though she more often then not uses it for pole vaulting than actual combat

Tidbit: Lancer has been a researcher for the Autobots for longer than many bots have been alive, mostly regarding projects Ultra Magnus would rather not go public. Despite the JetTwins being by far the most successful of these endeavors, Lancer quit shortly after. When Alpha Trion offered her a more savory research position with Twam Orthia she was quick to accept and get out from Ultra Magnus’ thumb.

Moonracer

Sharpshooter/Sniper

“Best in the Whole Galaxy!”

Graduated top of her classes at the Autobot Academy but has struggled to keep a longterm position due to her impulsive behavior, with her last job being messenger-bot for Security.

Alt Mode: Cybertron Compact Car -> Vector W8

Special Upgrade: Internal Gravity Manipulator: As labelled on the tin, she has the ability to shift her gravity, decreasing AND increasing. Typically, she uses this to “float” or “moon walk”. The change in gravity can be extended to objects she comes into direct contact, but maintaining it drains her very quickly.

Velicotron Build: Speedster Though not as fast as the infamous Blurr, Moonracer is incredibly quick both as a bot and her alt form. Combine this with her gravity-defying abilities leads to some devastating results.

Custom Ion Pistols: Dual pistols that can combine into her sniper rifle.

Tidbit: Moonracer is a good bot with a good head on her shoulders. She will always do what she thinks is right- but she tends to jump the gun on things which gets her into trouble. With inexperience comes naivety, but how is she supposed to learn anything if nobody gives her a chance to do anything?  

Individual Shots

[crassstitchbeetch]

bee’s summer of stitching

ahoy! thank you for bearing with while i’ve been quiet here! i’ve been pretty busy. i’ve been using my stitching to unwind and calm down, and i’ve got through a bunch of work in the summer. here’s a rundown for your reading pleasure:

the only way to begin is by beginning | stitched by me on 18 ct | i LOVE gamechanger and i loved stitching this one!

ceasefire now! | stitched by me on 14 or 16 ct | good to spend time doing at the encampment. this pattern, as well as the other free palestine patterns, are freely available with an option to donate but honestly just donate to a gofundme

i've had ENOUGH aroace pattern | stitched by me on 18 ct | this took about a month to stitch and was really simple once the outline was done! this will look really cute on the wall near my aroace flag !

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes | stitched by me on 18 ct | the pinks looked brighter than the pattern but i loved it! i’ve spend this summer working on my thesis so i’ve been drawn to simple designs and this was perfect. i also backstitched the font and border to make the project last longer (so i didn’t get hyperfixated on a new pattern)

the children yearn for the mines | stitched be me on 14(?) ct | i started this one earlier this year, but finished it this summer. got super close to the edge there but i’ve stolen @jennystudy’s technique of putting masking tape on the edges to prevent fraying, so it was all good!

take me back to the coconut tree | stitched by Pax on 18 ct | Pax is my flatmate and i got it into cross stitch over the summer. when i asked them for a review of the stitch, it said, “um… it was pretty fun. except for the bit where i didn’t have one colour because we went all the way to the craft store and i didn’t write it down so i didn’t get it. it was a good stitch.”

we all got a little barbie in us | stitched by me on 18 ct | like minecraft, i started this one a while ago (edit: a whole year! holy shit!) and came back to it later in the summer. this one is Lorge holy shit i did not expect it to be so big!

last, but not least:

under all conditions, i will persevere | stitched by me on 14 ct (grey) | i literally started this three days ago when the draft was already in my folder but i got through it q u i c k l y so i added it! this one is so cute, i’ve been wanting to stitch it since i designed it but never *quite* got round to it. this pattern is very special to me because of the damned stubbornness of dandelions and because they signal the end of winter, which is my least favourite season. i just love them

thus concludes the season of stitching i hope u enjoyed my silly little recap !!

[chxrrysangel]

Conflict of Interest

Pairing | Plug!Choso x fem!reader

Words | schmedium

Summary | Choso never quite does his intended job when you meet. Special treatment is what they call it, not that he’d outright admit to it. One day, you request his services outside of your normal routine. And things get, well, complicated.

Tags | 🍃, hotboxing, car sex, dub con (both parties are under the influence), overstimulation, kinda dom! Choso, no protection, praise kink, no use of y/n, overstimulation, creampie

Notes | I’ve had this in my drafts for so fucking long that I was getting sick and tired of going back to it instead of just posting. Overthinking is an understatement. (I’ll probably end up editing it again later)

You called up Choso a week early, stressed out of your fucking mind. It seemed like any problem the universe could throw at you, it did. You watched with anxious fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his deep blue car rolled into the empty parking lot. An abandoned mall is easily the best place for your exchanges, you both liked it that way.

He had his hair down today, catching you off guard for a moment. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but the stark contrast to his usual hairstyle was always surprising.

“Miss me?”, he asked with a smile as he closed the distance. You scoff and chuckle.

“I miss what’s in your bag. You’re not that special Kamo.”

“Oh but I am. We both know it.” He didn’t mention the break in routine, knowing it was probably something personal. You didn’t share much with one another, choosing the “basically strangers” dynamic to be a smarter option. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t break the agreement every once in a while. Even as he stands before the hood of your Jeep Grand Cherokee, your eyes can’t help but glance down at his playful smile when he talks or the movement of his fingers while he rolls. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought the paper to his lips, tongue flattening against its edge. Brown eyes glinted with mischief as they made contact with yours, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips at catching you in the act. God if the earth could just open up and swallow me, that’d be great.

“Wanna smoke with me today?” You snapped out of your daze of distractions at the question, disbelief washing over your features.

“Really?” The large man shrugged, in a why not kind of way. How could you say no?

~~

Choso could taste the berry in your gloss as his lips wrapped around the blunt, inhaling the strain and feeling his chest grow warmer. It hadn’t been long, but the windows of Choso’s car had already begun to fog, despite the cracked windows.

That’s how you two spent the next hour, sharing two blunts and chatting together as your high began to wash over.

“Fuck, that’s strong.”

“Isn’t it?,” you softly whisper, head lolling towards him.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, minds expanding to limits you hadn’t even realized existed. Somehow the conversation drifted to the more personal aspects of your lives, such as your romantic lives.

“You’ve got a boyfriend?,” Choso whispered across the dash. You shook your head, waiting for his next question.

“Girlfriend?”

“If I didn’t know any better Kamo, I’d think you wanna date me.”

“God you fucking wish. Just curious.” Sometimes, you did wish. Not that he could ever know that.

“What about you, smartass. Dating anyone?”

“Nah, don’t have time for that.”

The car developed into a comfortable silence, neither of you feeling eagering to speak. It was like this with Choso, always has been. He understood the need for shutting up sometimes, no unnecessary pressure to converse.

“I think I need a haircut.” His random outburst prompted a barking laugh, caught off guard by the irrelevancy.

“I’m serious. It’s getting too long.” You looked over at him,pouting. You liked his hair, in fact you loved it. When he hung his head, the layers encased his face like a halo. It was the perfect haircut, not that you could really say so. Any allusion to your thoughts could ruin everything. So you settle for something simple.

“I like your hair.”

“Yeah?, he questions with a head tilt. You murmured a hum of agreement, leaning over the console to put a hand towards his face.

“I think your bangs could use a little trim though,” you remarked with a ruffle of his hair. You began to pull away a few seconds too late, eyes settling on his features and feeling yourself get too caught up. Choso’s eyes caught yours, grabbing your wrist to keep you close.

“Willing to cut it for me?” His eyes flickered across your features, analyzing them with an intensity you’ve never seen in him before. It was unnerving.

You nodded, swallowing a large gulp of nerves.

You sat outstretched over the console, not making any attempt to sit back properly on your side. He broke the silence before you could consider a regrettable choice, going on about munchies and making you laugh. That comment is what led to your current argument on the best type of cake as you unwrapped a cupcake in your hands.

“It’s very easily vanilla,” he argued, “it’s the most versatile option.” You scoff mid-bite.

“Didn’t know you were so boring, Kamo.” He looked offended at your comment, putting a hand on his chest like it hurt.

“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite then?”

“Red velvet. Hence why all of them are on my side of the tray.”

“You think you’re so special, picking red velvet over all the other options,” he teased.

“I know I’m special,” you mocked. Something shifted in the air when you said that, Choso growing quiet with no comeback prepared. The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

“You uh…you got something,” he whispered distractedly while leaning in. His thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, dark eyes staring into yours. You watched as time slowed, his thumb reaching up to his lips and sucking.

“Frosting.” The two of you just stared at one another, high out of your minds and scared to breathe. Instinctively, you glance at his blush lips, not even remotely afraid that he would notice. His tongue darted out between the folds, covering the surface in spit and you nearly moaned.

“Fuck me,” you whispered to yourself, almost in pain.

He leans farther over the center console, putting a hand on your neck. Nothing was said as you stared into his eyes, bouncing back and forth between his irises as he wrestled with his thoughts. You leaned in , the gap between your lips just barely a sliver. You could kiss him easily, that much was obvious. But fear made you hesitate, breath fanning across his cheeks in anticipation of the next move.

“Choso,” you whispered in a barely audible tone.

“Don't talk,” he said before making the brave choice.

His lips capture yours, hesitant but curious. It takes a moment to find rhythm but soon you’re moaning softly into his mouth and gripping onto his arm for dear life. Choso was a good kisser, the soft muscle of his tongue bullying its way past your lips as he explored your mouth. He broke the kiss, staring at you with need. His lips were glossy with spit, pupils massive with lust.

“Back seat. Now.” You didn’t need to be told twice.

You watched as he impatiently pushed the seats forward, as far as the mechanism would allow.. He climbed into the backseat, a boyish smile adorning his features that you’ve adored from your first meeting.

“Choso, need you.”

He manhandles your body, grabbing your thighs to guide you into his lap.

Choso pushed your hips down on his crotch, your clit grinding against his rough zipper with earnestness. His plush lips peppered kisses down your neck and collarbone, smiling into your skin at the thought of seeing all this tomorrow. The two of you had crossed the line of friendship and he was quite intent on never going back now he’s gotten a taste. You whimpered, as though on the verge of tears, desperate for relief from the throbbing of your cunt.

“Oh, that’s cute.”

“Shut up. Not funny,” you retorted.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.” He thrust upwards, the outline of his erection rubbing so perfectly against your clit. A pathetically desperate whimper slips out, and he chuckles.

“I know baby, I know.” Choso continues to mark you, his featherlight touch on your skin sending tingles up your spine.

~~~

Had he not pushed his seat back, your ass would be pressing uncomfortably into the leather right now. Choso’s hands engulfed your hips, guiding you on his cock with every thrust. Your skin buzzed with the effects of indica, hot with desire as he fucked your brains out.

“Shit, Cho. So fuckin—ngh—good.” You whined into his neck, trying to muffle your sounds.

A chuckle reverberated through his body, dark with knowing.

“Don’t hide those pretty moans from me, baby. Wanna hear you.”

You leaned back, coming face to face with Choso. He was so pretty like this, a light sheen of sweat making his bangs stick to his skin in a pleasured bliss. Your pussy squeezed around his shaft, making him whine with need.

“Fuck that’s good,” he cried. Watching you bounce was like nothing he’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Just then, an idea formed in his mind. Choso angled his hips more upward, hitting your g-spot and pulling a pleasured sob from your lips. He watched with satisfaction as your eyes crossed for a moment, going dumb before his eyes. The glossed out look said everything, too lost in the pleasure to be remotely coherent.

“Feel good, pretty girl?” You could barely whimper out an affirmation, feeling your impending orgasm. You mewled incoherently, a jumble of curses and praise. With a shaking hand, you rubbed your clit as your stomach began to tighten in need for release.

“Right there baby. Fuck don’t stop don’t stop.”

Choso pushed off his own orgasm, wanting to watch you make a mess on his dick first. He grinned, taking in your fucked out state with great pleasure. The little you had shared with each other revealed that your sexual experience with men had been rather disappointing. Your last ex had no clue how to please you, too concerned with his own orgasm to ever worry about yours. He was selfish in that way, as well as many others.

He grabbed your hair, pulling you down in a sloppy kiss. If it wasn’t for how well he fucked, this kiss alone was enough to make your head spin. Your body felt miles away, the combination of the thc and the best fuck of your life making your skin tingle.

Your limbs began to tense, signals of how close you were. Your vision was blurry, teeth searing into your bottom lip with focus.

Choso felt your walls grow tighter, filling his chest with pride. He maintained his pace, pushing harder with each thrust. Your nails dug deep into the hard skin of his shoulders, imprinting moon-shaped marks.

“Close aren’t you?”

“So fucking close baby”. You stumbled over your response, struggling to say every syllable.

With a few more thrusts, your toes curled as you came. The squelching sounds in the car increased tenfold, a sound Choso was eager to revel in. He fucked you through your orgasm, thrusting getting sloppier by the second. His balls tightened, body buzzing as he fucked his cum into you. Before you could say anything, he didn’t stop. His mouth formed into an O, tip extremely sensitive.

“I think I can get one more out of you.”

A statement that felt more like a demand.

You began to shake your head, feeling the creeping discomfort of overstimulation begin to course through your shaking body.

He whispered sweet praises as you squirmed. Your body wasn’t sure of whether to lean into his touch or pull away, confused but pulsing with need. Your cunt choked his shaft, tense as you pushed through the masochistic pain. But soon enough that pain turned into pleasure, attempting to meet his thrusts to chase your orgasm.

He grinned with knowing, cheeky like a cat who got the cream.

“Shut up,” you uttered between gasps. He winked, satisfied with his clear victory. Even during the most intimate moments, he couldn’t help but be his usual annoying self

“Gonna cum Cho.” You whispered into his neck.

“Fuck. Can feel it. Doing so well for me, baby.”

His praise made you squeeze harder around him. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s unsure of how he’ll be able to let you go. Every touch, every look, every smile led up to this moment.

Every muscle in your body tenses as you cum, ears ringing as Choso praises you. His thumb rubs your clit in firm circles, the pleasure making your walls spasm around his sensitive cock.

“That’s it baby, doing so fucking good.” Choso slurred his words, head sensitive as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. The base of his spine tingled, pushing him back towards the edge again. He blabbered incoherently as you came down, mumbling about how good your pussy is.

His hips stilled as he shot white ropes into you, filling your cunt with his warm seed. Your tired quick breaths as you gasped for air quickly faded into light laughter as you watched each other come down. Choso smiled lazily, dazed and completely out of it. With a delicate hand, he pushed some of your hair out of your face before pulling you in for another kiss. This one was much softer, gentle and unrushed. Romantic even.

“We just made things really complicated, didn’t we?,” you question against his lips. He didn’t answer really, murmuring in disagreement as he deepened the kiss.

“Choso! I’m serious”.

“So am I.”

[tofupixel]

Thank you for getting me to finally try pixel art! I‘ve always wanted to get into pixel art but I never knew what to start with and always ended up procrastinating. Your blog and the post you made on learning pixel art were what finally pushed me to give it a go. It was really helpful and I managed this little animation in Libresprite.

I definitely want to improve and your art is like the ultimate goal lol. Do you have any tips or instructions for how to get better or on what to focus on in the future? I‘d appreciate any kind of criticism/input you are willing to give! How do you manage to make such gigantic and beautiful landscapes?

thank you!! and i'm so happy you decided to give it a real go, you're doing great already!! the rendering on the body and the pink shading is really nice.

i can help a little with animation stuff but i'm not an expert, ill write something out about backgrounds at the end

i hope you don't mind but i edited the sprite a little, just to illustrate some stuff

🤺Animation stuff

i added an extra frame near the top of the arc so it slows down. this is called ease or slow in/out and usually happens at the beginning and end of movements. u can do even more slow but this is just a quick version

i also removed the middle frame (where the tail is straight down) to make the swing appear a bit more powerful. this could be the principle of timing in the same video. you can exaggerate smears if you do this, its up to you!! lately i tend to exaggerate stuff a lot, things arent super noticable in motion

i also got a good bit of advice from nickwoz that helped me, basically when you begin to animate, it really puts the rest of the sprite being still into focus. try to think of how you could animate other parts of the body, even subtly. and sometimes if individual pixels stay still they can catch the eye in an unintended way as well, just keep it in mind!!

if you want to learn animation more, you could take a look at duelyst sprites, they have incredible idle and ability animations, i study them a lot

heres one i downloaded a long time ago. i recommend just downloading stuff you like and looking at it!! i have a huge collection of pixel inspo. slowing animations down can really help you understand whats going on. its just a bunch of simple elements put together that makes it look so good.

IF U WANT MORE RESOURCES/ARTISTS I REOCMMEND TO GO AND STUDY LMK!!! IM LIKE A WIKIPEDIA, I AM A BIG FAN of pixel art and love to share

🌿 OK lets talk about landscape stuff

it looks like you have art experience already, but im gonna talk as if youre a complete noob cos it might help some other people who read this!! ur doing great 👍

❓ how to learn: study (and practise a lot)

what i mean by study: draw it, copy it, try to understand it. you can try to change characteristics about it. changing the angle or lighting can help u understand how something works in 3 dimensions.

sometimes it takes time, dont worry, you will figure out your own style through doing studies, its all a process

❓ how to draw landscape details?

study pixel artists and how they do it recommendations: fool, slym, jubilee, deceiver

also please look at real world references!! you got to build that visual library

❓ how to learn composition?

study traditional artists or animation. i did a ton of studies of ghibli backgrounds which i think helped my growth a lot recommendations: arcane, studio ghibli, traditional painters

im gonna break down a piece as well and maybe that will help. this is one from 2022 but its still one of my most popular and its pretty simple too!!

if we remove all the fancy stuff what we have is actually really simple. just a few large, overlapping shapes that all point towards our focal point. it's the brightest area with the most contrast and many edges point into it.

go to pinterest or google and just search "pretty landscape" or "mountains" or something and you can see what i'm doing is nothing special or unique!! break it down into bigger shapes to begin with, its just different areas of material mostly.

and heres how you can make any landscape from any colours. purple sky or mountain? orange grass? ok !! it all works, it doesnt matter. i just blend the colours.

when parts of the landscape are in the distance they become closer to the sky colour as there is more "sky" in between you and it. its called atmospheric perspective. so if the sky was red, the clouds would fade towards red.

OKKK i dont know what else to say so i hope that helps!! honestly 90% of what i do is intuitive and hard for me to really explain, so you dont have to know The Rules, you just kind of pick up stuff as you go.

GL and thanks so much for showing me your art!! please keep going!! 💕💕💕💕

[cherubmm]

✖🔪 ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ON MY.Knees࿐ྂ

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: CROSS.sans

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Unhealthy attachment. Implied neglectful behavior. Established relationship. Delusional mindset. Vague hint of worshipping behavior. Subtly implied abandoment issue. Violence mention. Implied submissive behavior. ANGST. Stalking. OOC. Not proof-read (I got lazy near the end if you can tell)

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY : oozgin

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: why am I keep messing up!?!!?😭😭😭😭 I'm merely editing this on my scheduled post but then it keeps publishing????? Huh?????? Why does the Tumblr keep doing this to me😭😭😭 this is supposed to be for Oct.13!!! But *sigh* whatever, its already here. Enjoy the early treat, again >:(( Hope this won't happen' to another one fic for 14.... Tumblr fuck you :(((

It wasn’t often for Cross to come home.

Well, at least, not anymore. He’d leave before the sun rose, returning long after it set. You used to wait for him, staying up into the late hours of the night, but now? You barely bothered. He’d stumble through the door, mumbling something vague before disappearing into the bedroom or onto the couch without so much as a glance your way.

You understood—you really did. Cross was busy, whatever his job was, it demanded a lot from him. He hadn’t exactly shared the details, and you’d stopped asking after the first dozen times he dodged the question. But no matter how much you tried to rationalize it, it was starting to gnaw at you.

At first, it was just a pang of sadness. Then it became annoyance, maybe even anger. You weren’t one of those cliché lovers who needed constant attention—far from it, actually. You valued your independence, enjoyed your solitude. But this was beginning to feel less like space and more of a...neglect.

He was your lover, wasn’t he? You were supposed to be partners, but lately, it felt like you were the only one holding onto that thread. Every time he came home, he avoided you. No more soft conversations over breakfast, no stolen moments in the afternoon. Just excuses, avoidance, and silence.

The worst part was, you’d started to get used to it. Slowly, your love for him had dimmed, like a flame starved of oxygen. You found yourself becoming comfortable in your own company again, just as you had before Cross ever came into your life. It wasn’t a sudden fall out of love—it was gradual, quiet and subtle. You no longer saw him as your lover, just someone who passed through your life occasionally—acquaintance.

Eventually, you couldn’t do it anymore. The words weighed heavy on your tongue as you prepared yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed. Cross had just come home, dragging his feet, knives still strapped to his side. You waited until he was settled, cleaning his weapons at the table.

“Im breaking up with you.”

...

Cross always thought he was the luckiest skeleton in the entire multiverse.

Of all the infinite versions of himself—sometime's even far, far, better than him—of all the different timelines and universes, he was the one who had found you. He was the one who had you by his side, as beautiful and perfect as you were.

Not even the original version of him—the one from the timeline he could never go back to—had what he did. and that made him feel so special.

Even now, as he wiped the blood from his knives, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. He knew he wasn’t home nearly as much as he should be. Every time he left, there was a pang of guilt that dug deep into his bones. He hated leaving you behind, but what choice does he have? His boss wouldn’t hesitate to come after you if he comes to the conclusion that cross was 'slacking off'' of his work due to his lover. Hell, it was merely a stroke of luck that nightmare decided to not only keep you alive and well, but also provide protection —unbeknownst to you— even knowing his distaste for 'distraction' that attaches to those on his side.

This, of course, was a constant weight on his mind — a sense of indebted. Forcing him to swore his loyalty and obedience to the latter even againts his will. But at least, while he was out there doing Nightmare’s dirty work, you were safe, and that's all that ever matters.

While he couldn’t spend time with you like he wanted to, he could make sure nothing— absolutely nothing—harmed you. The Star Sanses? No threat. Any danger from outside your universe? He handled it.

And on the rare nights he did return? When you were already asleep? Those were slowly becoming his favorite moments. Cross would sit at the edge of the bed or crouch beside you, watching you sleep peacefully. He’d run his fingers through your hair, brushing your cheek, whispering softly to your unconscious form. Confessions of love, of guilt. He’d wish for a world where the two of you could just live a domestic, quiet life—where he didn’t have to kill for survival or settle in the constant state of paranoia— again.

He didn't want the history to repeat itself ever again now that you're here. God, he couldn't even imagine what will happen to him if you're no longer on his side to keep him sane.

But alas, he couldn’t give you that, yet. So, he settled on making you safe instead, hoping you’d understand one day.

...

"Im breaking up with you."

The sound of sharpening knives stopped abruptly. Cross froze, his back still turned to you, as if your words had doused him in cold water. Slowly—almost mechanically—he turned his skull in your direction, his pinprick eye shrinking to a tiny dot before flickering in and out like a dying lightbulb. There was something unsettling about the way he stared at you. For a brief second, his usual stoic expression faltered, a flash of... something. Confusion? Betrayal? Fear? But then, he laughed nervously, trying to play it off as a joke.

"Hahaha... t-that’s a good one, darling. You almost caught me,” he stammered, his grin unnaturally wider than the usual as he tried to shake off the tension.

"I’m not joking, Sans,” you replied, your voice steady despite the unease creeping into your gut.

Y-yeah, sure, whatever you say.” He turned back to his knives, trying to focus on his task, but his hands phalanges trembled.

“Sans, listen to me. I wasn’t—”

CRRK!!

The dagger in his hands broke in half as Cross shot to his feet, staring at the shattered blade as if it had betrayed him. His breathing grew uneven as he slowly turned toward you again, his eye flickering with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite place.

“Why?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward. You took a step back instinctively. "Why are you saying this...?"

You tried to explain, though the words didn’t come easily. You told him how you felt—how distant things had become, how lonely you were. How the relationship was falling apart and you both are better off no longer being in each other.

But every time you spoke, Cross took another step forward, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, and you found yourself taking another step back.

In a blink, he was in front of you, faster than you could process. Then, there was a small 'ping' sound before you felt yourself flung backward, slamming into the nearest wall that knocked the breath from your lungs. His hands gripped your shoulders, hard enough to hurt, as his face hovered inches from yours.

"Oww-! Sans what the fuck—!?"

His bony hands gripped your shoulders tightly, an anchor that pinned you in place. “Just LISTEN to me first darling. You have to understand—” Tears began to stream from his eye sockets, glistening like pearls against his skeletal face. “I DON'T have a choice” he cried, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s all for you! To make you safe! Please, you NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!”

You tried to pull away, but his hold only tightened.

His knees buckled, and you stumbled as he dragged you down with him, his hands still clinging to you like a lifeline.“No, no, please— reconsider!! I-i’ll try to change, I’ll do whatever you want—I’ll beg, I’ll be on my knees forever, just—please?”

Ⓒ𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/11/24 Navigation | Masterlist

[thebearer]

hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter 29: Perfect Imperfections

Summary- 7.1k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You are caught by surprise in a personal moment and old insecurities pop up. Curtis makes it his mission to reassure you, making you feel ready to try something you have never allowed before.

Warnings- Body insecurity, mentions of scars, oral, fingering, P in V, this is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Big thank you to everyone who comments and reblogs this series. Reading your thoughts about them helps me continue their story. It means so damn much to me. Special thank you to @mumbles411 for giving this a read through. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. The Curtis edit was made a year or two ago for me by the talented @nixakimbo. Nix, again Thank You so much for making this piece for me. I am so glad to use it in one of my favorite chapters. Happy Reading Everyone.

Chapter Twenty-Eight / Masterlist

The gym became your outlet for so many reasons. You relished in the feeling of power you got when you grew stronger, no longer getting winded by the workout you set for yourself, feeling that you could go further and do more in the weeks that followed. 

But some things had not yet changed and frankly, you didn’t force it when you didn’t have to. Taking a shower in the gym wasn’t something you were keen on. You liked to take your time in the act and had a set routine to take care of your body, it just made more sense to you to return to Curtis’s house, which was a quick drive. 

Returning after one of those times, you made your way inside the empty house, the clock over the kitchen sink letting you know that Curtis would be home shortly. You wanted to at least be out of the tub by the time he got home, now that winter was giving way to spring, he was coming home dirtier and you didn’t want to make him wait for his turn.

You didn’t have any complaints, finding the mud that would streak his clothes and the dried dust that would smudge his face kind of attractive, in a very masculine rugged way you couldn’t deny yourself. But he made it a point to clean himself up after getting done for the day, a reset for the evening. You could respect that even though you simply found him hot as fuck when he was all dirty. 

The meow from Binx drew your attention, your black kitten weaving around your ankles and stretching himself up to be picked up. You let your bags settle in a heap on the table, content to go through them after your shower. 

Your very hot shower, you smiled to yourself as the slight workout ache made you groan while reaching down to scoop Binx into your arms and start for the stairs. “You gonna help me get the shower ready?” You asked him as you buried your nose into the soft fur of his neck, loving the immediate sensation of his purrs going through you. Upstairs, you let him go onto the bed and started to strip out of your workout clothes, tossing them towards the hamper tucked into the bedroom corner. 

Binx was quick to bound across the bed and saunter into the bathroom after you, tail flicking with interest at what you were doing. Once he heard the water in the tub start, the black kitten was scrambling up to the tub and inspecting over the edge. “Careful Binx, you won’t like falling into that.” You hummed while finding the soap you wanted to use from under the sink. 

He meowed rather loudly in that squeaky kitten tone and shot off for the bedroom, leaving you to finish up on your own. Once the bathroom steamed up and you got the temperature where you wanted, you took your first blissed-out sigh as you got under the hot water. 

Curtis often complained about his water pressure not being strong enough. But right now with it beating down on your shoulders and back while you scrubbed your fingers through your hair, it felt like heaven. 

After a decent amount of time, a lot of you just were you enjoying the hot water, and you finally decided it was time to get out. Especially since you wanted to make sure Curtis would have plenty of hot water. The house was still quiet while you dried yourself off and fit the oversized bath towel around you. Another perk of showering at Curtis’s house, his towels were all huge, making even you feel small using them.

You set about your routine. Skincare products are laid out for you to grab as you need them. It was rhythmic, the motion of rubbing this or that into your skin, to prevent breakouts, chafing, and treat any place irritated from your workouts. 

The other reason you didn't want to shower in the gym, all of this took time and in the sanctuary of Curtis’s master bedroom, it felt allowed. Especially without anyone here, you didn’t need to rush and slip clothes back on to cover yourself from anyone. 

You were so lost in the act of it, your mind drifting as you continued your routine that you never noticed Curtis standing in his doorway, watching you. At the same time, you lifted one leg up on the bed, heel pressing at the edge to spread your thighs and rub some anti-chafing lotion into your inner thigh. 

Not until he softly said your name and gave a knock on the doorframe to catch your attention, making your bottle clack to the wooden floor, the sound loud to you and almost damning to have been caught with it while your leg dropped back to the floor. “Curtis! I didn’t hear you come home.” 

You tried to grab at the bottle quickly, heat rising up your neck and burning your cheeks, but your foot kicked it over towards Curtis, right where you didn’t want it to be. You didn’t want him to see the bottle; Anti chafing cream because your thighs were thick and rubbed together. 

If you were normal, your thighs wouldn't swallow everything like that. Jake's sneering voice cut through everything while Curtis swept down to grasp the bottle for you, his happy to be home smile fizzled out when he saw the distress on your face. “Honey? Baby, what's wrong?” The stretch marks, the scars from past chafing, and the fact he caught you like this when you weren’t ready to be that kind of vulnerable made you snatch the bottle and tuck it with the other things on the bed. 

“You surprised me.” You said quickly, still feeling the shameful heat in your cheeks and your fingers clutching at the towel to tighten it around you, hiding what you were doing. “I-I was… I am…” You stuttered, unsure of what to even say at this moment to come back from it all while your chin dropped towards your chest, averting your eyes from him. Curtis squatted in front of you, a hand reaching up to brush along your face, fingertips calloused yet gentle while he nudged a finger under your chin to lift your head enough to look at him, sure enough, his crystal blue eyes were sharp in a concerned way, searching yours for that answer you were unable to give him. 

“If I scared you, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me coming up the stairs.” He said earnestly and you didn’t have it in you to let him think that he did something to make you react this way when it was your insecurity doing it. 

“You didn’t, I swear.” You whispered and finally, you let it spill from you, what was even the point in trying to keep it from him. It wasn’t like Curtis didn’t know you had thick thighs, he touched them just about every day you two were with each other. “I didn’t want you to see… this.” Your hand waved at your products and he gave a confused glance towards them. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” His hands fell to the side of your thighs, rubbing up and down them reassuringly. “You are just taking care of yourself?” 

“When you put it like that.” the tip of your nose wrinkled, now feeling like you over reacted about this and why were you like this? Curtis let his hands scoop under your thighs, grabbing them slightly and sliding you closer to the edge of the bed. 

“Give me the bottle you were using before Honey.” He instructed and you did, reaching over to grab it for him while he spread your thighs apart, ignoring the quiver in them. His hands were warm and gentle in the way he touched you, lovingly. There wasn’t any sign of disgust in his features at the small marks scattering the inside of them. Your heart raced in a flutter, it was still late afternoon and Curtis was kneeling in front of your mostly naked body, able to see all of you. 

“You know what is one of the things I love about you, Honey?” He said as he shook the contents of the bottle into one of his hands, rubbing it between his palms till it warmed up. “Is how you take care of yourself. The selfish part likes to think that it's for me, but I know it's for you Pretty Girl.” His hands smoothed up the inside, rubbing the cream into your skin in a slow pattern. “That you take the time and effort to do this so you don’t hurt, so you feel good. It shows Honey, you glow and I get lucky enough to see it.” 

You couldn’t hide your small smile, giving a little shrug. “Maybe some of it is for you Curtis.” 

A devilish grin made his features light up, his eyes twinkling mischievously and his serious demeanor gone. “I fucking scored dating you.” His mouth descended to between your thighs, kissing them generously while you broke out in giggles, brushing your hand over his buzz cut, relishing in the feel of him.  

“I don’t know about that Curtis, I tear through all my jeans and leggings, my shorts get gobbled up and no matter what I do, they will always rub together.” 

His voice was muffled when he swore against your thigh, pushing up to surge upwards, pushing you back into the bed while he loomed over you, his hands planted on the mattress, holding himself up enough to not dirty up the bedding you were sprawled on. “I will buy you new jeans and leggings every time you need a new pair.” He swore in between affectionate kisses on your mouth, some of them quick and others slow with teases of tongue dragging out a moan from you. “I don't know why you are so concerned about your thighs pressing together Honey, I have no issue spreading them for you.” 

You gasped up at him as he took his reward for your surprise, this kiss heated so you had to clutch at him to keep the swarming of your senses from making you forget how to respond. When he finally pulled away for you to breathe, you gasped slightly. “You’re a fucking menace.” 

“All yours I’m afraid.” Curtis teased with a wink, but he softened from continuing to tease you. “How do you feel like going out after I shower? We can go get some dinner and then go play some pool if you don't feel tired from your day?” 

You seemed to give it some thought but pushed slightly with your hands against his chest for him to lift himself away, letting you sit up with him. “Just us or did you want to see if the others want to come?” 

“Just us tonight Pretty Girl, I don’t feel like sharing you.”

It was late, both of you spent tangled around one another, sweaty and panting when you twisted to face Curtis, exhaustion finally catching up to both of you between muttered hushed tones checking in with one another before either of you fell asleep. 

You were lying with your head on his chest, after Curtis cleaned you both up, calm and completely relaxed. His heart was a very steady thump under your cheek while everything else in the dark bedroom had gone silent. 

You were on the verge, his hand splayed against the back of your thigh hooked around his hip where he dragged you against him once he laid back down. His fingers were tracing small soothing patterns against your skin that made you feel even sleepier than before. “When we first started dating, I was very self-conscious of my hands Honey.” He spoke softly above you, making you tilt your face up to peek up at him. “They were so rough and you looked so soft, I didn’t want them to feel bad when I would finally get to touch you. No matter how much-working hands lotions I use, they will never soften.”

You sought for his hand, pushing your fingers through his own. It felt strong in your hold, warm and secure. The roughness he had built up over the years of hard work always sent tingles through you. “What made you even think that?” You questioned as you never thought of his touch being able to hurt you, he never gave you a reason to consider it. 

“Another person told me my hands felt like sandpaper on them. It stayed with me for a long time. When we first met, it was one of those things that was always at the back of my mind.” Curtis confessed as you kept a hold of his hand in yours. 

“I don’t think that Curtis, I love feeling your hands on me.” You resettled his hand where it was before. “Don’t ever stop.” You whispered against his chest. It was quiet for a few more moments, it wasn’t lost on you why he told you, since you never would have known otherwise he was ever self-conscious. “I love you, Curtis, just as you are.” 

Being able to say that, still made flutters in your belly while he reminded you that he too loved you. 

The week came flying in, it had been several days since Curtis had walked in on you after your shower. Since that night, you both had been so busy that there were just passing moments of catching up about one another's day and crashing, either at your apartment or at his house. 

Tonight you were at your apartment, needing to tackle your next semester of teaching, the last one of the year. All the stuff you needed was there and it was easier to set up your whiteboard to plan everything out. 

Curtis didn’t mind, making himself right at home, cooking dinner for the both of you, and after pulling you away from your project, insisting you take a break after you were starting to get frustrated, you curled up on the love seat couch next to him, grateful one of you knew when to take a break and stream a random movie, take your mind off what you still needed to do. 

Ending the night found you standing at your dresser, thinking back on the week's events. You glimpsed over your shoulder at Curtis, stretched in your bed, a book he brought with him in his lap while he read from it, the occasional turn of his page as he consumed another chapter. Never had you thought you would be here, eight months into this relationship, and the two of you were still going strong, in so many ways better than you ever were with Jake, who you were with for years. 

You were lucky to have met Curtis, to have found each other again at Paulie’s. The both of you grew in so many ways, figuring out how to be what the other one needed. 

You loved who you were becoming now, happier was what Jade had told you. You were happier and more confident in your new life with these people who had become as close as family. Curtis glanced up over his book, blue eyes roaming over you as you took your clothes off, one by one. 

You knew he was waiting for you to flick the overhead lights off, let the soft glow of the lamps by the bed be the only source in the room as you finished undressing. It was enough to read by, but not enough to keep the rest of the room lit. You were still notorious for wanting to hide your body, this body that he loved so much that it still took your breath away how he could love it when you judged it so harshly. 

Maybe it was time to try loving it just as much. 

You heard the rustle of sheets behind you, where he pulled down your side of the bed, all while you ticked away the seconds in your head, how he was going to give a look of surprise at you and that questioning look before heat would blaze across his features, the sharp inhale that would expand his chest and a flush of pink would start its way up his body in his arousal. He always looked so fucking good, it made your heart pick up in anticipation and tingles tickle their way down your spine, prickling your skin as you shed the last of your clothes. 

With all the lights still on. 

Your arms went defensively over your chest for a moment, old habits making you try to hide yourself, but you dropped them and turned to face Curtis, the big old bed seemingly beckoning you. “Hey Pretty Girl.” His tone dropped with interest as you took those steps closer, trying not to chicken out. You crawled onto the end of the bed, working your way up. Curtis ditched his book on the nightstand quickly as you settled into his lap, his hands unable to stop from touching you, gliding up your thighs to the curve of your waist to pull you in closer towards him. “Honey, I dreamt of the day you kept the lights on.” 

His hands, so warm and gliding on you, smoothing to your back and up to the back of your neck where he squeezed lightly while drawing you into his space, his lips finding yours. You hummed into the kiss, teasing the plushness of his bottom lip with your tongue. When he lets you ease back, your hands tugging up his shirt to run your fingers through the soft mat of dark hair over his chest. “You thought about this?”  

“Pretty Girl, since I laid eyes on you, I thought about having you like this.” He arched himself under you, even between the blankets you could feel his cock starting to harden. Curtis couldn’t stop touching you, it was making you feel heavy and wanting for more as he explored with his palms, efficiently distracting you from your usual nerves. Possessive touches sweeping over your belly where his hand pressed against the softness and up to cup your breast into a palm, thumb teasing your nipple slowly, taking his time. 

“I want to try tonight…” You tugged at the shirt he wore, making him lean forward off the headboard to tug it off him. “Lights on.” 

“Honey, whatever you want to try, I’m with you.” A touch pressed against your chin, making you turn your gaze to meet his. “Your fucking beautiful, sexy as fuck, and drive me crazy Honey. I can’t wait to make you come for me.” His eyes couldn’t stop roaming over you. “We’ve never used a safe word before but if you need to stop just say wasp if at any point it’s not what you want anymore.” You nodded to confirm but it wasn’t enough for him. “Repeat it for me, Honey.” 

“Wasp” You repeated while nuzzling lightly against his hand, craving all the touches he was giving you. 

“Fuck you’re such a good girl Honey, and mine… all fucking mine.” He groaned out in appreciation. You nodded as you wiggled a bit in his lap, knowing he was looking you over, taking in his fill of you bare to him. Your thighs clasped against his side, not with the urge to close them from his view, but with the desire to ride him like this, leverage yourself to grind against him “I still can’t believe you chose me.” He licked his lips while gliding a hand between your thighs, past the curls of hair and gliding to your glistening folds. Your gasp was his reward, making him break out in a grin while he rubbed around your clit, never quite touching you there, but so close. “I love how just touching you turns you on for me Pretty Girl, you are so responsive for me.” 

It was true, anticipation for this crested into want and you did your own exploring. Taking in his wide chest and broad shoulders, each tattoo he had inked on him temptations to be kissed and nipped at, Before you could even do that, he was leaning your chest towards his mouth, kissing over the curve of your breasts and teasing a nipple into his mouth. 

The pull and tug shot straight to your pussy, the sensations he was making between his mouth and fingers making you whine out his name. 

“Say it again.” He made a rumbling noise against your chest, in your growing desperation you started to grind against his lap, the blankets starting to get twisted in between your thighs. “Who's making you this needy?”  

“Curtis.” You grabbed onto his shoulders, using it to leverage yourself harder. 

“What do you want, Pretty Girl?” His tongue lavished up your collarbone to suck on your neck, pulling even more desperate noises from you. “Words baby, lemme hear you.” His fingers continued driving you mad, never quite touching you where you wanted, drawing it out while you tried grinding against his digits. 

“Fuck Curtis, I want you.” 

Another nip behind your ear at the pulsing point made you wriggle closer, seeking more of him. “Fingers, tongue or cock Pretty Girl?” 

“Fingers…” Your mouth found his neck, the biting shag of his beard burning you as you worked your way to the flexing tendons of his neck “Tongue.” You whined with impatience while you clamped on, making him hiss against you, his fingers rubbing between your folds swirling on your clit, shooting a rush of pleasure to your nerves. “Cock… just something.” 

“Greedy girl.” Curtis said at the hinge of your jaw, grabbing a hold of your hip to still you while a finger stretched into you, after a few pumps, he added another which felt so good, your pussy wanting that feeling of him. “Gripping me so good Pretty Girl.” He grunted against you while loping an arm around you to press you into his chest, half hugging you while fingering you. Your nails dug into his chest, burying your face in against his neck with little pants while your pussy clenched. “Gonna have to make you come with all three for me. Leave you ruined in this bed.” Curtis growled into your ear, his promise like a dark seduction that you desperately wanted. 

Curtis knew just how you liked to be touched, the steady strokes curling in you as you just got wetter, your arousal warm as it slicked onto his hand, palm grinding against you and coating the inside of your thighs. You started arching and sinking into his touch, chasing that desperation growing in your clenching core. “Oh god yes.” You muttered into him, fitting against him like you belonged. Your face buried in his neck where his masculine smell you could only distinguish as his was making your head go fuzzy. 

“Come on Pretty Girl, you know God ain’t making you feel this good.” A third finger stretched you further, and the burn of it mixed with the pleasure already built in you made you jolt, rocking your hips up to arch above him with a louder cry into the room. “Fuck.” Curtis groaned, watching you take over, your movements precise to bring you to the edge. His free hand slid up the center of your body, wrapping a hand around the front of your neck to squeeze lightly. 

The rush his fingers tightening against the sides of your neck gave you. Grabbing a hold of his wrist, you let your gaze lower to see him under you. He might be holding you, bringing your pleasure rushing to take you over, but the way he was looking at you made you feel powerful. The black of his pupils is so wide that slivers of icy blue take you all in as his. It was a combination that made your pussy gush, tightening around all his fingers stuffed in you while your body seized in your first promised orgasm. 

“Thatta girl, gush all over me Pretty Girl.” His graveled voice taking a hint of command to it, licking his lips as his fingers kept fucking into you, drawing out your pleasure. Your gasps lifted your chest, catching his attention again to press his mouth between your breasts, sucking skin and sharp touches of his teeth mixing with the warmth of his tongue tasting you. “So fucking good Pretty Girl, so good for me everytime.” His fingers withdrew, and you missed it. 

No fullness to sooth your clenching core, you were about to protest, beg for him to touch you again when his slick covered fingers pushed against your lips. 

Your eyes rolled back at the act, sucking them into your mouth so you could suck him clean while he pulled his fingers back out, Underneath you could feel Curtis throbbing, his hips raising enough to push against you and his hand tightened a fraction around your throat, dragging your face to his. “No one knows do they? what my Honey can do with her mouth.” His tongue trailed up your chin, over your lips, his tongue filling your mouth, stroking against yours till you were moaning, arching and pressing against his hand at your throat, making you feel floaty. His mouth quirked a bit at the sight of you. 

You were magnificent in his lap, your little whimpers and moans going straight to his cock, you withering in his lap just growing needier for him. “How you can swallow my cock like a good girl.” You hummed in agreement, your hand wrapping around his wrist near your throat as you continued grinding in his lap.

“Love swallowing your cock Curtis.” Your breathy hazy voice hinting on a plea. “Wanna right now.” 

“Mmhh, I know Pretty Girl. But that's not what we are doing at the moment.” He chuckled at your pout, pulling you back to his mouth to kiss you breathless before flipping you onto your back, making your cry of surprise sharp in the bedroom “You told me fingers, mouth, cock.” Looming over you, his hands traced your hips, wide palms curving around them and sharp white teeth tugged at his bottom lip while scanning his heated gaze over you. Curtis looked hungry and possessive of you at this moment, making you feel the smallest you probably ever have. A whimper escaped you and his features flickered momentarily to your face, mouthing your safe word to you. 

His reminder that you had it if you needed it. 

With ease, Curtis had you turn to your belly, shifting over you so he was stretched to cover your back, humming at the feeling of you wriggling into a comfortable place on the mattress. He ground his cock against your ass while kissing across your shoulders, his voice a groan as he pressed his mouth down the center of your back slowly, like he was worshiping whatever skin he could get his mouth on. “Raise that sweet ass Honey.” His weight pulled away and you tensed, glancing over your shoulder at him settling on his knees at the end of the bed, and grabbing at your full waist, pulling you down towards him. “Knees underneath you Pretty Girl.” 

Which you did, arching yourself up to show off your glistening folds and hiding your face in your arms as nerves started to take over. Even Curtis groaning in appreciation as he drew his knuckle up the slit of you couldn’t stop the hint of intrusive thoughts. You kept trying to peep over your shoulder at him, sensing him just behind you while his hands framed you with his fingers digging into the folds on your hips. 

What was admiring for him turned to worry for you, your eyes growing almost frantic and a shudder raced up your body while you imagined yourself through his gaze, the way your skin sagged and folded, it made shame blossom in your chest painfully, dulling your arousal in the moment.

Say your word Y/N, you can stop this before he pushes you away.

Before you even had a chance to let those thoughts take control, Curtis leaned over you to catch your jaw in his hold and tilt your head enough for him to press a kiss at the hinge. “I know you're worried Honey that I’m going to see you and hurt you. I am not those assholes, I love seeing you like this, trusting me like this.” Another kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “That you are dripping down your thighs by how turned on you are.” His fingers filled you again, pulling out more moans and whimpers from you suddenly. “You are so fucking beautiful like this that it's taking everything in me not to split you open on my cock, fill you so full of my cum so you can’t doubt how I feel about you.” He stroked against your g-spot, making you wriggle as heat spiraled up your spine. “First you gotta cum on my tongue, cause I know how damn sweet you taste and I just wanna bury my face between your thighs for the rest of my life. I have never been more attracted to anyone like I am to you.” 

You eeped in protest when he pulled his touch away before you came again, dropping your face into the bedding to hide yourself but Curtis pressed his fingers into your hair to grip at the back of your head and easily lifted your face from the crook of your arms. “No hiding from me Pretty Girl, not tonight.”

It was like he knew the right things to say, his words settling deeper than any of those doubts possibly could, latching onto what he said, you complied, wanting him to continue making your body weep for him. “Fuck, this pretty pussy is glistening Honey, dripping your sweetness.” He dropped to the floor behind you, his face level with your most intimate spot. Fingers pried your folds apart, showing you off to him. His scruff landed first on your inner thigh, his tongue dragging up your shaking thighs, anticipation growing in your chest till you were panting. 

“My heart is racing.” You confessed while glancing over your shoulder to see where he was. Curtis glanced at you, smirking a bit while spreading your thighs wider apart, pressing a hand against the curve in your back to make you arch all that much more. 

“Nerves or Lust, Pretty Girl?” He inquired while palming your ass hard, spreading you apart while groaning, his eyes dropping once more to your pussy. Heat flared through you, mixed with straight up nerves that your traitorous brain was screaming at you to hide, a shiver raced through you to keep yourself still for him. 

“Both. I can’t shut up my head.” 

Curtis rumbled behind you, kissing the back of your thighs with a tenderness that you weren’t expecting in the moment. Your head dropped again to your folded arms to take a deep breath. “Honey, listen to me. I am barely keeping it together not to fuck you into this mattress right now. I love you and I want to do the filthiest things to you, make you scream my name and come on my cock so many times that our sheets will be fucking soaked. I promise I am gonna do that, all while enjoying every last inch of your body because its a fucking masterpiece I want to posses” 

That made you squirm, his words taking up the noise in your mind. A slight sharp bite to your ass cheek made you cry out for a moment, the shock of not knowing what he was gonna do making you more on edge. 

When his tongue finally flattened against your core, it was a maddening relief cause it felt so good, your hands gripped the sheets. Again he did it, this time with more pressure, teasing against your opening before sliding down to your clit. 

It was the feeling you had been craving, but it didn't nearly compare to when he claimed your clit, that little bundle of nerves being sucked on made you jump, as if to pull away. His hand steadied against your back, arching your back down in a firm touch. “Where do you think you are gonna go, Pretty Girl?” His head dipped between your thighs and plunged his tongue in between your folds once more. “Fuck, I’m not close to done with you.” 

“Curtis.” You moaned his name out, it was the only thing that could escape you at the moment. “Yes more.” 

He curled his tongue into you, clenching around his head with your thighs, he spread you apart again while he lapped at you. “Feels good doesn't it Pretty Girl, this cunt squeezing for more.” Sucking on your clit again, his tongue flicking the sensitive nerve driving you to scream his name while fighting against his hold to snap your legs shut against his head again. 

Curtis felt you tensing, about to come for him when he pulled back. A frustrated gasp escaped you as you looked over your shoulder, glaring at him. There you were, you were out of that negative place in your mind, now focused on what he was doing to you, how he was making you feel. 

Just as it should be. 

“Curtis!” You sputtered with a slight wiggle to your hips. “I was so close.” 

“Mmmh… you were.” His hands rubbed the back of your thighs before digging into them with his fingers to spread them wide again. “But I wasn’t ready for you to end.” 

“This has to be some kind of torture.” You groaned with a drop of your head into your arms, making him bust into a deep chested laugh. 

“Some people like this kink.” He slid his hand in between your thighs, cupping your mound and sliding his fingers into you, groaning when he saw you clenching around his fingers. He stroked just right, making your earlier rush rise back up fiercer than before. Although you kept the arch in your back and your frustrated little huffs muffled, your ass wiggled enticing him to finish you. 

Again his touch pulled away, only to be replaced by his mouth again, tongue plunging into your sensitive core to entice you to give into him. 

“Please?” You gasped loudly, pushing yourself back to grind against him, his tongue flicking through your folds, his groan followed by a curse of how good you were. 

“I don’t know Pretty Girl, kinda like you like this.” He hummed as his cheek brushed against your tender inner thigh, causing them to shiver. You were gonna be raw after this. “All open and turning into a beautiful mess in bed.” 

You hid your smile, feeling his praise rush through you like a whole other sensation adding to everything else. It was a warm desire that flooded all your excitement. It spiraled heat down your spine and made you tighten, the rush overcoming you till you sighed into letting go. 

“Fuck look at you gush Honey.” His tongue is heavy against all your sensitive spots, making you squirm in your bent position. 

There was a grunt behind you while you twisted just enough to look over your shoulder at him. He had moved to a stand, your eyes widening at how ready his cock looked, hard and demanding, as if he knew you were staring at him, it twitched when his large hand wrapped around himself stroking his soaked fingers up and down himself. 

Curtis was always going on about how beautiful you were, but he himself was a sight to behold. Powerful body with the light dusting of hair covering his chest, everything taunt with need and desire. His gaze was darkened with lust as he looked at you offering yourself to him. 

That just made you renew your arch. 

“Now what's going through your head?” His hands covered your ass, a warm passionate caress.  

“That I want you to fuck me… I need you to fuck me.” You wriggled in his hold, his palm lightly coming down on your ass, enough to make you gasp wanting another one. 

“Need to be filled with cock? Is that what this is all about?” He let his cock head slip through your folds, rutting along you till he bumped against your clit. 

And it felt so good. 

“Come on Pretty Girl, you gotta answer me. You had my fingers and my mouth, you want my cock now?” 

He was absolutely maddening, making you hide your face as he called you out. Yes, you had those, but you still wanted this too. Tonight you wanted him to take you without you hiding yourself. “Yes.” 

“Mmmh you can do better than that Pretty Girl.” He thrusted through your folds again, not quite getting you exactly what you wanted, but it still felt so good. His hands curled through your hair, lifting your head while he nipped at your jaw, pressing his lips to your ear and groaning as your slick coated him. 

“Please? Curtis fill me.” 

Another angle had him sliding into you, fully so you felt him deep, the gasp escaping you. “I love you Honey.” he let his face fall to your shoulder, his arm shooting out to hold himself up as he curved over your back. His fisted hand twisted in your hair till you had to turn your head to give into the pressure, giving him all the room to tease your neck, especially at the pulse starting to race with each snap of his hip against your ass, making you jolt forward. “So fucking much Baby. Do you feel how deep I am?” His cock made you feel full, and his movements just drove him harder into you, you nodded as much as his tight hold allowed. His forward push drives you into the mattress. “Never want to leave you, not when I know you're made for me Honey.” 

“Oh god Curtis.” You whined, your cunt fluttering around his cock. 

You felt the press of his lips against you, his hips snapping faster to jolt you into the mattress. You grabbed onto the sheets to keep yourself from moving. His kisses were so gentle compared to the rest of him pressing against you, his weight crashing over you while he drove into you, leaving you feeling him all over. 

It was almost overwhelming in every way that made you feel good. 

Secure. 

Wanted. 

Your moans started to turn into sobs needing some relief as Curtis muttered to you, caging you in further between him and the bed. “I know Honey, I feel it too. Your just pulling me back in and fuck.” He hissed, his chest crashing to your back when he stopped holding himself up, but freeing his hand to glide underneath you. 

You wriggled underneath him when his fingers found your clit, twisting against it till you were ready to give in. A rush of energy locked you, riding a high so good as you cried Curtis’s name. 

“That’s my girl, fuck give it to me.” His thrusts grew erratic and hard, grabbing your waist to hold you still. “So fucking good Honey, making a mess all over me.” 

You were good, he made you feel good. You hoped he would get the same from you, even though now you were floating in an orgasmic haze. 

You managed to reach behind you and find his hand, tugging it till your fingers wrapped with yours. “Your turn Curtis.” You squeezed, tugging on him till he stretched out over you, his forehead leaning against your shoulder while his last few slap of his hips were pushing him to join you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You heard him grunt, and then a sharp roar while warmth flooded you. 

Your eyes closed out the bright bedroom lights as you finally sank into bliss, Curtis wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him like you were about to go somewhere. 

Which you certainly weren't, right now you couldn't fathom being able to move a muscle and you were pinned beneath him. 

Curtis wasn’t a small man, he firmly held you in place without even trying. He did shift against you though, kissing your shoulder while he pulled his sweaty body off of yours. 

You hated his pulling out, you always felt empty after. 

“Be right back.” He lightly skimmed his lips against your cheek while you hummed an okay at him. Curtling up a bit as the bed shifted with his movements. There was some noise in the room, but it wasn't long till Curtis was hovering over you, gently brushing your hair aside so he could see your face. “Honey, Pretty Girl you gotta get up.” 

How dare he make you move. “Don’t wanna.” You grumbled a bit, and he scooped in behind you, tugging you against his chest. 

“You gotta go get cleaned up Honey and I gotta fix our bedding… we made a mess.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. 

Indeed you two had left a wet spot on the sheets. You were about to cover your face in embarrassment, not even realizing when he said make a mess all over me, you actually were. He was quicker though, grabbing your hands in his own and keeping a hold on you. “Dont be embarrassed Honey, it was so fucking hot having you from behind like that.” 

“I didn’t know we got so carried away.” You admitted, turning your face into his to share a kiss finally, one he made sure went slow and sensual, passing soft sighs between each other. 

“That’s how we know it's good.” He winked, slowly letting you go now that he thought you weren’t gonna close up. He let his touch glide down to circle your waist, hugging you back against him for a few more minutes. “Next time I will lay down another blanket for us though.” 

That made you laugh a bit, finally stirring enough to sit up and make your way to the edge of the bed to prepare to go get cleaned up. “If you're planning on ruining me again like that, yes.” 

“Hey, I do believe you asked for it.” He caught up to you as you stood up, tugging you back into his lap so he could press teasing kisses on your neck, muttering. “Although I was one hundred percent planning on seducing you tonight.” 

“See, I was already screwed.” You giggled and he snorted into the crook of your neck, bursting into a deep laugh. 

“In more ways than one.” He helped ease you up so you could go take care of yourself and turned to strip the bed to replace the sheets. 

Overall he hoped that you were no longer worried about letting him see you in the light. 

[bookishfreedom]

For anyone who loved The Raven Cycle, but thought, "that could've been scarier": This book is for you.

Don't Let the Forest In follows Andrew Perrault, returning to the elite Wickwood Academy for his senior year. And although high school has never been easy for Andrew, from the start, this year is different. His twin sister, Dove, is keeping him at arms length, and his best friend Thomas is acting strangely, disappearing into the forest behind the school at night. One night, Andrew follows him, to find Thomas fighting off horrifying creatures. But there's something familiar about these creatures: they look exactly like the ones from Thomas's drawings.

I absolutely devoured this book. It had me up way too late reading, and even though I finished at 3am, I wanted to turn to the beginning and start all over again. (And, at the cost of precious sleep, I did in fact reread the first chapter.)

I would recommend this book to anyone, and it's got me super excited to tackle CG Drews' backlist. The characters leap off the page and sink claws into your heart (in a good way). They're complex and messy and in need of a good hug. Andrew and Thomas are just two kids trying their best to figure out the world, and each other. My heart ached for them both, even when I wanted to shout at them. This story also has some of the best ace rep I've ever read. Andrew's identity is central to the story, and woven into all of his choices seamlessly, in a way that feels natural without distracting from the story.

I was on the edge of my seat the whole time and came away from the story thoroughly haunted. (It was maybe a mistake to read this in the middle of the night.... walking to the bathroom after was a terrifying experience.) Drews' prose is evocative, equal parts beautiful and macabre.

Thanks so much to Netgalley & Macmillan for the free review copy. Happy to say that I ordered my own copy before I even finished the ARC🖤

and thank goodness I did because do you SEE the barnes & noble special edition??? the DRAWINGS. and the @paperfury annotated chapter?? I’m obsessed

[licorice-tea]

And There You Are, An Ocean Away

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader (and a little Nami x Vivi if you squint)

Content: friends to lovers, fluff, anxious/hopeful crush feelings, confessions, long distance relationships, reader is a Straw Hat Pirate, and Law is a little awkward <3

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this is one of the first fics i’ve finished and i’m not the best at grammar rules so there are probably a few mistakes! also i might have made Law a little ooc lol, but besides that im just trying to write more to improve! thanks for reading :)

Edited 1/17/23

be-beep. be-bee-

“Hello?” Law cuts off the ringing of his transponder snail. He can’t help but smile to himself upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line.

“Law? Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” He leans back in his desk chair, twisting the cord of the transponder snail around finger “E” while holding the phone in the other hand.

“Sooo,” you drawl, “have you guys started opening presents yet?”

Law can practically hear you smiling, which makes him exhale in amusement before responding. “Yeah, the crew exchanged gifts and opened them earlier this morning. How about you?”

“Mhm, we were up as soon as the sun rose- Chopper and Luffy woke up the whole crew.” You pause, and he can imagine you biting back a laugh while shaking your head as you often do. “Anyway… Did you get everything you wanted?” You sound expectant, almost knowing.

In his usual deadpan tone, he answers simply. “Bepo got me a new coffee blend.”

“That’s nice of him… he’s always so considerate.”Based on your tone it’s not quite the answer you were looking for, but you provide commentary anyway.

“Ohh yeah,” He continues on the other end of the line, feigning the recollection of something important, “and there was this massive box on deck…”

“Oh good!” You exclaim as Law chuckles. “You scared me, I thought you hadn’t gotten it. Did everyone like their gifts?”

You’re referring, of course, to the comically large box that the Straw Hats had shipped to the Heart Pirates. It was packed to the brim with gifts for every crew member. After all, what was the point of having tons of berries from “stolen” treasure if not to use it on your friends? Or at least, that’s the reasoning you used to convince Nami to rearrange some funds for gifts to the Heart Pirates and other allies of the Straw Hats. Though, maybe it was just because you had mentioned sending a gift to Vivi back in Alabasta as well…

“They all really liked it, a lot. Was it your idea?”

“No,” you explain with a playful cadence, “it was a group effort.”

“Sure thing, but the bows and wrapping paper has you written all over it. And the handwritten card…”

“I have the best handwriting on our ship! Besides, we all signed it so, its from all of us.”

The only part that 100% was not from all of the Straw Hat Crew, was a box with Law’s name on it at the bottom of the much larger box. Inside the present addressed to the “Captain of the <3 Pirates” was a neat little coin display with places for 25 coins, as well as a card tucked in beside the display.

“Well, it was nice of all of you then.” He concedes with a snark in his voice. “And, uh… I like what you got for me, y/n.” Law’s voice comes out a little quieter, and maybe even a little deeper towards the end. He sounds hopeful, not 100% sure if it was you that had chosen his gift, yet knowing that only you could have selected something so sentimental and- ugh, perfect. His tone makes your stomach do flips.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad.” Your voice, now a bit softer, replies. “I was worried you might have already had-“

“I-I didn’t. I’ve just been storing my collection in boxes...” He trails off, now tracing the edges of the coin display you’d gotten him. It was nothing exceedingly special or expensive, but it meant a lot knowing you had thought of him- just him- and went out of your way to send him a gift. The thought that you cared about him as much as he did you had his heart beating faster already.

You only knew Law was a coin collector because he chose to tell you. Thats how it usually was with him- he only shared the parts of himself he wanted to share. (Though you did also have a knack for “catching his vibe” as you liked to say.) Anyhow, you also knew his office was painfully tidy and there was little to no decoration, despite having ample bookshelf space. And so, a display for his not-so-secret hobby seemed like a perfect gift!

But, that wasn’t the only thing you’d added to his present. There was also a card, in which you’d written something along the lines of “I’m so glad I met you…. You deserve so many great things, but hopefully this coin display will suffice for now… I have feelings for you…. Merry Christmas! xxx, y/n” You had sort of just slipped in the confession between other clauses.

“And did you read the card…?” Your face suddenly feels a little warmer. Not that there was anything scandalous in the card, just some very honest words about your feelings for Law. Words you hadn’t ever been bold enough to say out loud and in person, and still hadn’t been brave enough to write without lots of other thoughts and well wishes surrounding them.

“Card?…” You hear some shuffling on his end, “I’ll read it now.”

“Mkay.” Your short response is a telltale sign of your own nerves, which makes him curious to find out what you could’ve written.

There’s a prolonged silence as he reads, and Law’s heart skips a beat as he nears the end. His eyes go back over and over 5 specific words: “…I have feelings for you.” He feels nearly giddy with excitement, but it comes out as pure anxious energy. He never thought this would actually happen; a scenario where you reciprocated his affections had only ever happened in his imagination up until now. Usually in these scenarios, he’d have worked up the courage and audacity to tell you how he felt in person, and not only would you accept his confession; you’d also return his feelings. But now that it was actually happening? He found himself at a loss for words, heart beating in his ears and probably blushing like some lovesick idiot.

Law wants to say something perfect for you, something charming and witty, but all he can think of in the moment is, “… I read it.”

His throat feels dry, like he doesn’t know what else to say. Law likes you too of course- how could he not? Ever since you’d met back in Saobody Archipelago, though the interaction had been brief, he’d thought you were beautiful, strong, and somehow a little different from the other Straw Hat Pirates. Then he’d gotten to know you; really know you, beyond your fighting capabilities and the information on your bounty poster. You were kind, witty, selfless, hardworking, and so much more. And alas, absence only makes the heart grow fonder.

Sure, you’d started off as allies, but that quickly became friendship, and a close friendship at that. He liked you because of your acceptance for nearly anyone, so long as they seemed a good person. Even more so, your ability to understand his emotions despite his usually reserved nature (he secretly thinks it’s some sort of sign, but in reality you’re just emotionally intelligent.) And you like Law because of his obvious (though he tries to hide it) love and passion for so many things: his crew, his work, etc. This, along with his witty, albeit odd sense of humor, made you enjoy his company quite a lot. The two of you took most every chance you had to be in each others company, since they were few and far between. Sometimes you’d chat, with you doing most of the talking and Law being content to listen and only add comments where he thought them necessary. Other times you’d follow each other into battle to provide support for the other, though neither of you had ever really needed help in those situations.

You swallow the lump in your own throat and continue, “You don’t have to have an answer or anything right now, I just want you to know how I feel.” Law doesn’t say anything, and so you continue while trying not to sound disappointed. “Merry Christmas, Law.”

“…”

“Law?”

“I like you too.” his words come out sort in a rush, like he had been holding his breath.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah.”

You can’t help but smile.

“Well, uh, I have to go now, but… Can I call you tonight?” He asks hesitantly, even though you’ve already confessed that you feel the same way he does.

“Yes, that’s fine! I… I was worried that you didn’t feel the same way for a second.” You laugh, light and airy.

He scoffs, but you know it’s not meant to sound mean when it comes from him. If anything, it’s endearing. “Of course I do.”

You giggle again, “Bye, Law.”

“Bye, y/n.”

As soon as you hang up, his nervous frown turns into a small smile, and it grows and spreads across his face until he’s grinning like a fool and hiding his face under the brim of his hat.

[drunk-person]

Dynasty (The Gossip) P.7

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: The return to Kings Landing may not bring everything that Aemond and Y/n expected, since life does not always favor the choices of those born into a dynasty.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, I don't know what warnings to put up today, no description for reader.

Word count: 9.800 k

A/n: Ok this chapter was a little hard to write and I told myself I would stop editing it or it would never see the light of the Internet hahaha. For those who want to follow the soundtrack in this chapter we have a bit of Two Ghosts by Harry Styles and then Dynasty by MIIA. I hope you like it, and continue to like me after this.

"Hey, hey Kings Landing, apparently Aemond Targaryen was seen on the beach in Lys over the weekend. It was not reported whether he was accompanied or not, but we all know that no one goes to Lys unaccompanied, and everyone who goes there does not intend to be seen. Could this be the reason for Floris Baratheon's disaffection?"

❦❦❦

The trip back to Kings Landing was nothing but peaceful. And while still on the plane, Aemond smilingly decided that the cat's name would be Vhagar, just like the ancient Valyrian goddess, which Y/n vehemently approved. The two landed in the early hours of Monday, and with Aemond still excited, they went to a 24-hour veterinary clinic, where Vhagar could be examined and properly vaccinated. When the two returned with her to the car, she was much cleaner, although her fur was still dull. And Aemond had bought special food, a bed and toys for cats.

Vhagar was slightly scared when she arrived at Aemond's apartment, since she had never been in that environment. And as soon as Aemond opened the transport box, she hid under the bookshelf in the living room and refused to leave, which Aemond respected, letting her adapt.

The next morning, Aemond had to use all the willpower he had in him to get out of bed after having slept for about two hours. Y/n's warm body next to his in bed looked so attractive, covered in nothing but a black cotton shirt that she had taken from his closet. And all he wanted was to cling to her and spend the whole morning just breathing deeply against her neck.

Reluctantly, Aemond got up without waking her and took a shower. As he got dressed for the day, her voice called him softly and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with that sweet sound.

-Are you already going to work? - Her hair was messy and her face was slightly crumpled as she stared at him and Aemond walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

-Mmmm. - He murmured positively and almost felt faint when she crossed her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and leaving another kiss.

-If you need to talk to me, just give me a call. - Aemond spoke against her neck after breaking the kiss, pointing to the phone he had brought from the living room and left on the bedside table and Y/n nodded positively with a smile.

-Did you leave your number? - She frowned slightly.

-It's still the same as always. - He shrugged. - I never changed it.

Y/n just smiled and left a soft kiss on his chin before Aemond got up and headed for the door.

-See you later.

❦❦❦

Aemond was visibly tired when he arrived at the company that morning, and all he wanted was to have stayed cuddled with Y/n in bed at least until 11. In his slight distraction caused by sleep, he barely noticed the eyes following him as soon as he entered the main hall of the Targaryan, everyone inadvertently noticing the not-so-subtle tan on his always white skin, denouncing the veracity of the speculations pointed out early in the morning in the gossip magazines and blogs.

As soon as he got off the elevator on the floor where his and Aegon's offices were, the secretaries' eyes landed curiously on his skin, and soon after the two quickly looked at each other with slightly anxious eyes.

-Any message for me? - Aemond asked, already heading towards his own office.

-No message, sir, just some late reports from last week that are on your desk. - Lizze replied quickly while nodding her head negatively.

-Mmmm, good… - He then stopped in the middle of the way - When you order my lunch, order the same as you ordered for me, but swap the meat for fish or chicken and have it delivered to my apartment.

-Yes sir. - Lizze quickly wrote down what he said so as not to run the risk of forgetting. And as soon as the door to Aemond's office closed she whispered to Sana.

-Last Friday she made that exact same order for me. - Lizze leaned over the table as she spoke and Sana just drummed her fingers on the table while laughing and waggling her eyebrows at Lizze.

-So we already know where she's spending the day. - Sana whispered back laughing. - Did you see his skin? He looks like a walking shrimp! He must have been frying in the Lys sun all weekend.

-Well we have a good idea of ​​who was keeping him company. - Lizze bit her lip, a little guilty for making such statements, even though she knew they were probably true.

-You mean we're sure, right? - Sana rolled her eyes, laughing.

-What I really know is that she's been back less than a week and in that time my workload has decreased by 50% and I got a raise, I hope she never leaves! - Lizze concluded with a mischievous smile as she answered a call.

❦❦❦

Aemond gave an irritated look at his desk as soon as he entered the office, he hated delays with almost every ounce of his being. And after reading to make sure everything was right and finally being able to finish his own reports, he decided to personally deliver the papers to his father in the presidency.

He usually didn't go to Viserys' office very often, only when strictly necessary, but he was in a good mood and it wouldn't cost him anything to go there and deliver such important documents.

-You look happy. - Viserys said, looking at his son with a slight smile as he approached the desk and Aemond frowned in confusion since he had the same serious look as always. - It's good to see you like this.

-Mmmm. - He murmured, lowering his gaze, a little embarrassed as he usually was when interacting with his father.

-The technical data reports for this month. - He placed the first folder on the table. - And sector growth reports.

-Very good. - The older man nodded positively while analyzing the papers. - Good work Aemond.

Aemond just nodded, almost letting out a sideways smile as he left while Viserys stared at his son's back, a little apprehensive about the reason for his apparent happiness. The cloud of melancholy that hovered around him seemed to have dissipated overnight, and the patriarch was slightly worried that his wife was right in her concerns.

❦❦❦

The sun was already a little high in the sky when Y/n, even though she was still sleepy, forced herself to get up from Aemond's comfortable bed. She had a lot of things to plan and wanted to find a perfect place to be the studio for the brand in formation. And after taking a shower to feel more awake, wearing a beautiful aqua green sundress that she had brought from Lys and eating some yogurts from the fridge, she turned on the desktop computer in the office to start working.

Y/n hadn't noticed much about Aemond's apartment the day she arrived, but thinking better now that she was looking closely there wasn't much to notice. It was very spacious and there were almost no walls, increasing the feeling of spaciousness. Apart from the main furniture, it didn't have any decorations that drew much attention; the walls were white and the furniture was a mix of black, gray and cream. In fact, when she stopped to think about it, she concluded that even his office at the company had more personality.

The only thing that caught the eye was the large wooden shelf full of books. And she couldn't help but smile at the huge collection he had acquired. Some of them, she was sure, should be in a museum, and not on Aemond's personal bookshelf.

Below the bookcase, Y/n frowned when she noticed a beautiful wooden chest with some flowers carved on the lid, but when she tried to open it, she realized it was locked. She then went back to the computer desk and rolled her eyes deeply when she realized it was asking for a password.

Grumbling softly, she walked back to Aemond's room to get the phone. With a huff, she jumped onto the soft bed, lying on her stomach and reaching for the phone on the table. But then her brow furrowed slightly when she saw the bedside drawer with an open gap. Curiously, she opened it all the way, feeling her face heat up a little as she began to laugh when she found two polaroids of herself at the bottom of the drawer. In one, she was just smiling with her eyes closed, wearing a yellow summer dress, lying amidst the colorful flowers of a meadow that the two of them always went to hide in near Kings Wood, something completely innocent. But the other… It was her lying in the middle of the sheets of Aemond's bed wearing nothing but a smile, Y/n remembered that photo and the moment it was taken, it was the first time he had made her cum three times, and at the height of his own arrogance he took that photo saying he wanted to remember that moment forever. And with a smile she dialed the number that she had known by heart for a long time, waiting for Aemond to answer. When he finally did, her smile grew even wider.

-You know, I found something very interesting in your bedside drawer. - She laughed, turning over and lying on her back on the sheets, looking at the ceiling.

-Very interesting? - She could almost see Aemond roll his eyes and smile wryly if he closed his eyes.

-Yeah, you know, a picture of a girl? - She asked, still thrown between the sheets.

-If it's of a very pretty girl, put it back where you found it and don't crease the edges… I only have one of those. - She smiled against the phone when she heard him speak.

-Can I ask what you did with one of them in specific?

-You can after dinner today. - He murmured on the other end of the line and Y/n pulled her legs against her, laughing.

-I'll contain my curiosity.

-Is everything okay? - His voice sounded worried and Y/n felt her heart warm.

-Yes, but I need the computer's password. - She rolled excitedly onto the bed, lying on her stomach while swinging her legs. - I want to look at the available properties to find one that's good enough.

When Aemond started saying the numbers, Y/n jumped out of bed and walked quickly back to the living room, asking him to repeat it more slowly as she sat down on the chair, barely noticing the fact that the numbers were her birthday. She just smiled when she saw a photo of the mansion's garden at dusk, only the stone bench under the tree empty.

-Did you have breakfast?

-Yup. - She answered, already accessing the browser and crossing her legs in a lotus flower on the chair - Yogurt.

-Yogurt is not breakfast. - His voice was serious and Y/n smiled when she imagined the crease forming on his forehead.

-It was when is my first meal of the day. - She rolled her eyes, still laughing. - Now get back to work!

And without saying anything else, Y/n hung up the phone and threw it on the table, then grabbed some papers and a pencil to start researching.

❦❦❦

Aemond hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket, still smiling, but the smile slowly faded when the office door opened and his grandfather and mother entered unannounced, with very serious looks on their faces.

-Hello, Aemond. - Oto's expression would have made anyone tremble at that moment as Alicent closed the door and walked behind her father towards the office desk. - I heard some rumors that may not be good at all.

-Well, the bad tongues of this city have a certain addiction to spreading unfounded gossip. - The youngest disdained, raising his eyebrows slightly. - If we paid attention to all of them, some of us would already be arrested for moral harassment, wouldn't you say, grandfather?

Oto only became even more serious, staring at Aemond with twice the fury.

-I'll ask you just once, Aemond. - Oto's cold and controlled voice seemed to drop the temperature of the room. - Are you having an affair with that little bitch again?

-Don't you dare talk about her like that! - Aemond practically growled with a carefully calculated tone of voice.

-Based on your inconvenience, I can assume so. - Oto placed both hands on the tabletop, staring into his eyes. - And I'm trying to understand Aemond where you're planning to go with this, because Aegon is a stupid idiot and we all know that, but I always expected more from you.

Aemond's eyes burned with anger as he heard his grandfather speak, and he stared back at him without moving a muscle while he felt his hands tremble.

-Do you remember what we talked about the last time I was here? - Oto hissed tightly. - About the unique opportunity that the party chose to offer you? Your candidacy could be launched in the next elections alongside mine, this would make you one of the youngest deputies in our history, it would give more power to our family, it would improve your position within the company and as an heir!

-But do you think the conservative party will maintain the proposal if all this comes to light in the media? - The older man glared at him. - People are not stupid! They see things and go around talking about what they see. Do you think no one is talking about you going to Lys all of a sudden and leaving your fiancée behind?

-She's not my fiancée! - Aemond spoke firmly and slowly, narrowing his eyes at his grandfather.

-But it should be! - Oto slammed his hands on the table. - Do you think that girl is going to wait forever? That her father will be patient forever? He is my ally and supporter within the party, but he expects to receive something in return and this marriage is as beneficial to you as it is to everyone else involved. The shareholders will pressure Viserys about the succession if you are married to Floris and have direct influence over Baratheon industries!

-What if I don't want any of this? - Aemond walked away from his grandfather and headed towards the bookshelves under Alicent's watchful eye. - What if I want to have a different life?

-A different life? - Oto scoffed before Alicent could open her own mouth. - There is no different life for you, Aemond! You were born for this, for business, for politics! You are a Targaryen and a Hightower, you will not give up everything for a girl who is not worth your time. You were born into a dynasty, boy! Luxuries like choices cannot be paid for!

-She is exactly like her father! - Oto growled angrily, approaching his grandson again. - She doesn't think before she acts, she only does what she wants and thinks she deserves to do well for it. Let me tell you where Daemon is now, isolated in Pentos, married to a useless woman, with two daughters and running a branch of the company that is of absolutely no use! He threw away the golden opportunity that was Rhea Royce because he thought he deserved a different life. That's what happened!

-Do you want to follow that same path? End up with nothing, just the failure they expect you to be, just like Aegon is? - Oto almost shouted those words to Aemond as he got closer and closer to him under Alicent's watchful gaze. -That girl will only pull you down like the anchor she is! Putting those stupid dreams in your head.

Aemond's brain seemed to be rattling around in his head at his grandfather's words, he could barely reason. And as if that would help bring his focus back, he brought his hands to his eyes and pressed them tightly, breathing deeply. When he opened them again, he faced the leather sofa ahead where Y/n was lying waiting for him while drawing, talking and smiling two days ago, feeling her heart speed up.

-I'm not going to marry Floris Baratheon! - He stated slowly, looking very seriously at his grandfather. - And I'm not going to continue with this whole farce, this "relationship" with Floris is over! I'm going to end it all with her today.

-You can't do that! - Alicent screeched, walking towards the father and son. - Aemond, you're not thinking straight, I won't allow you to throw everything away for such a sordid sin.

-Sin is what I'm doing to Floris! - His eyes were wide and he looked towards the elders as he gestured. - Involving her in this whole situation just for my own benefit while I'm in love with someone else…

-Aemond! - Alicent reprimanded him firmly the moment he used the term love. - How many times have I told you not to repeat this? Why can't you just forget about it all? Leave this horrible story behind? You were doing so well until she came back here and messed with your head again.

-Nothing was fine, it wasn't even close to being fine! - He looked at the older people with a fierce look. - But I'm not going to live that way anymore, and I can't bring Floris into this either.

Alicent put her hands to her mouth, sobbing as she stared at Aemond. He felt horrible at that moment for making his mother cry. For a moment, he almost apologized and took back what he had said.

-Do you think your actions only affect you, boy? - Oto turned once again towards Aemond with a fulminated look. - Do you think the consequences won't affect me too?

-The elections are at the end of this year and I run the risk of not even having my candidacy launched by the party if you are involved in a scandal of this magnitude!

-I have built my entire career based on family, morals and good customs. - Oto looked at him fixedly. - And now we have Aegon and Daeron destroying my reputation out there. My salvation is you and Helaena. If you do this, Aemond, I will lose my position in the party and probably my political position.

-And what do you expect me to do? - Aemond asked through gritted teeth, feeling like he could collapse at any moment as he looked at his grandfather with his eyes trembling with pain and doubt.

-Wait at least until the elections to break up with Floris Baratheon. - Oto almost smiled saying those words. - Just act as if everything was normal between you two.

-I can't do that. - Aemond shook his head negatively as he remembered the promise he made to Y/n.

He didn't need to say the reason, both Oto and Alicent knew very well what it was. And before Alicent started talking again, the older man silenced her with just a gesture.

-I know your reasons, Aemond. But if she loves you as much as she says, she will understand your situation. - Oto's eyes shone as he said that. - She will wait for all this to be resolved.

-Give me a few days to think about what I'm going to do. - He asked in a morbid voice, staring at his grandfather with a lost look in his eyes.

-Then at least guarantee me that you will go to the charity ball with Floris. - Oto demanded in a harsh voice. - That would be very good for your image after the last few days and consequently for my image as well.

-Mmm. - And without knowing what to say, Aemond just murmured and nodded to his grandfather who smiled sideways at the small victory.

❦❦❦

Sana and Lizze practically bit their nails out of curiosity in the entrance hall of the offices. Every now and then they heard shouts and incoherent words coming from inside Aemond's office. The only thing they both knew was that they were discussing Floris Baratheon.

And when the doors finally opened and Oto came out followed by Alicent, both with unfriendly faces, the two pretended to focus on their own tasks, avoiding even looking away to notice them.

-Father, have you lost your mind? - Alicent looked at him furiously, starting to speak as soon as the elevator doors closed. - Why did you back off?

-Because it wouldn't do any point to pressure him to stay away from her. I underestimated Aemond's devotion towards her. - Oto's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

-I warned you, didn't I? - Alicent hissed, biting the skin of her thumb staring at his father with wide eyes. - You weren't there the night I sent her away, you didn't see what I saw! She's like a parasite stuck to him.

-Well, we already know one thing… the only person who can keep Aemond away from Y/n is Y/n herself. - The oldest looked at her very seriously. - And I'm going to make sure that happens.

-How?

-From the little time I've spent with her and from what you've told me, the girl has the same unstable temperament as that her idiot father. - Oto rolled his eyes. - It'll be easy to put her exactly in the position we want.

❦❦❦

Y/n was leaning over the office desk eating one of the remaining chocolate bars Aemond had bought for her in Lys the day before while crossing a potential property off the list after realizing it was too close to Flea Bottom.

The soft sound of the doorbell broke through the silence of the apartment and Y/n frowned, heading towards the door without even looking at who it was before opening it, becoming even more confused when she found a food delivery man standing in the doorway.

-I didn't order food. - The girl frowned, staring at the boy.

-This is Mr. Aemond Targaryen's apartment, isn't it? - The boy looked at her confused and Y/n just nodded positively.

-So that's right. - He handed the package into Y/n's hands and left, wishing her a good lunch, making her smile and wish him a good day at work.

She rolled her eyes with a silly smile on her lips as she opened the package and saw the smoked salmon with Caesar salad and some side dishes.

-He knows how to be sweet when he wants to be. - She said to Vhagar who was eating some of the food with her back to the wall while looking at her suspiciously.

Y/n tried to call Aemond to talk about lunch, but he didn't answer her calls and shrugging her shoulders she finished her own meal while feeling Vhagar, who had become less skittish after getting a piece of fish from Y/n's plate, rubbing herself against her calves.

❦❦❦

The rest of Aemond's afternoon was an endless torment. He barely touched the food that had been brought and didn't do even a third of the work he was supposed to do for the day. He just kept thinking about how he was going to get out of this situation without causing any more problems, but there seemed to be no answer.

Y/n called once again shortly after his mother and grandfather left his office, but Aemond didn't have the courage to answer. Not after all that, not when he felt unable to draw oxygen into his own lungs.

Hours later, when the sun was already setting on the horizon, he sighed deeply and picked up the phone, dialing the home number, leaning over the table as if a huge weight were on his back.

-Hello you! - Y/n's sweet voice came on the other end of the line and Aemond felt his chest tighten.

-Hey, beautiful. - He practically sighed. - Is everything okay?

-Well, I received some delicious food for lunch and I have ten good real estate options for the studio, so I would say yes. - He could feel the excitement in her voice as she spoke and couldn't help but smile melancholy.

-But what about you… are you okay? - She paused, her voice suddenly worried, he did his best to reassure her.

-Yes, just a stressful meeting earlier.

-Oh, I can give you a back massage when you get home. - Her voice was so soft, so sweet, so concerned for him. Aemond felt his own body tingle.

-That will definitely be well received. - He smiled more genuinely and soon after that he decided he had had enough of that day.

-I'll be there in a few minutes.

-Really? - Her voice sounded excited and he was sure she was biting her lower lip at that very moment. - I thought you were leaving later.

-And I am, but I'm leaving early today.

-Great! I'm going to order something for us to eat! See you later.

Aemond heard two loud kisses that she had probably placed on the phone and shortly afterwards the line went dead. He just rolled his eyes with a tired smile and put away his things and left the office.

-Miss Mayotte, take my messages. I'm going for today. - He announced without even looking at the secretaries as he walked towards the elevator.

-Yes sir. - Lizze nodded positively while, away from her boss's gaze, she raised her eyebrows questioningly at Sana, who just shrugged.

-Someone was obviously not happy with the visit earlier. - Sana whispered as soon as the elevator door closed, but even if he had been next to her, Aemond probably wouldn't have heard with so many thoughts screaming in his head at the same time.

And when he got into the car he made a decision, he would tell Y/n everything that had been said by his grandfather and mother as soon as they both finished dinner.

❦❦❦

Not far from there, at the Flavor of Seven Tea House, evil-intentioned tongues gnawed at each other in malicious whispers. As was already common, some of the members of Kings Landing's high society were sharing a table for afternoon tea in one of the most expensive places in the city.

The laughter was contained and the voices low and polite while, more cruelly than the lower class, they made cruel comments about each other's lives. The conversation at the table immediately ceased when the door of the tea house opened and Aemond Targaryen entered with his very serious look and his usual importance.

As soon as he arrived at the main counter, everyone started talking even more intensely and even more quietly so that no one around could hear.

-Look at his skin. - Elyrio Hayford murmured, taking a subtle sip of tea while pretending not to look in Aemond's direction.

The others at the table nodded positively while raising their eyebrows and biting their lips, also looking discreetly in the direction of the counter.

-I just wanted to run into Y/n around to make sure she was in Lys with him. - Elyrio's younger brother, Lion grumbled, taking some cookies from the older brother's plate.

-And how would you do that? - Jane Pyle asked laughingly, biting her lower lip and raising her eyebrows, drinking some of the black coffee in the cup.

-Hello Y/n dear, have you been seeing Lys with your grumpy and hot cousin in the last few days? - Jane spoke in a terrible imitation of Lion's voice and he just threw one of the cookies at her, making her laugh even more.

-And do you think it would be necessary to ask? - Elyrio whispered maliciously. - Just look at him! He's more tan than the surfers at Black Water, he looks like a shrimp. And I bet all my inheritance that she must be the same!

-What's he ordering at the counter? - Pia Rosby, who had her back to Aemond, hissed in curiosity. - As far as I know, Floris always says he doesn't eat sweets.

-I can't see very well. - Lion rolled his eyes. - That huge guy is blocking my field of vision.

-It looks like he's taking a strawberry cake. - And trying to be discreet, Elyrio leaned closer to Jane to try to see.

-Sometimes he'll take the cake to Floris. - Pia shrugged and everyone at the table laughed a little louder without meaning to.

-Floris is allergic to strawberries. - Jane rolled her eyes, still laughing. - That's besides the fact that she told Nia a while ago that he never brought her a single sweet, among other things that a boyfriend is supposed to give his girlfriend when he likes her.

The four of them looked away at the same moment Aemond turned and walked past them all once more without saying a word, leaving the tea house with the package in his hands.

-Everyone's going to the Targaryen charity ball this week, aren't they? - Lion smiled evilly as he stirred his iced tea with a straw.

-I wouldn't miss it for anything! - Jane smiled, biting her lip as she drank the last sip of coffee.

❦❦❦

Y/n smiled and hummed the music on the radio as she placed plates, cutlery and glasses on the dining table. The phone was next to the computer, and she had already called five of the places on the list. Unfortunately, none of them had pleased her enough. But she was still absolutely happy. Aemond had called her about an hour ago saying he would be home early from the company. And with a smile, she ordered food from a restaurant they always went to for family dinners.

Setting the table and waiting for Aemond Y/n felt like she was 9 years old again playing house where she and Aemond pretended to be a very happy couple, the only thing missing was the children she thought unconsciously putting her right hand to her stomach feeling a pang of pain in her heart , then shaking her head as if that could drive away the bad thoughts and then smiling at the thought that in a short time she and Aemond could have all of this.

Without warning, the door opened and Aemond entered, leaving the folder on the top of the sideboard where he kept his shoes. And walking towards him with a smile, Y/n could see a package of craft paper with yellow ribbons in his hands and frowned curiously.

-What is this? - She pointed with her chin at the package expectantly while pulling him by the neck and leaving a kiss on his lips, and Aemond shrugged his shoulders in a sign of unimportance.

-Only the best strawberry cake from Flavor of Seven.

-No way. - Y/n said, her eyes shining, going towards him and taking the package to open it as if it were a gift under Aemond's watchful eyes.

An easy smile appeared on his lips when he saw in Y/n that same childish joy that she had when he gave her sweets as a child.

-Do you know the best part of being an adult? - She suddenly looked very serious at Aemond and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he denied it.

-Being able to eat dessert before dinner. - She wiggled her eyebrows laughingly, placing the cake on the table while she went to look for a cake knife, leaving Aemond smiling behind. He looked down, still smiling, and then saw Vhagar sleeping hidden under the couch, with only her tail sticking out.

-Was she okay during the day? - He arched his eyebrows, following Y/n to the kitchen.

-Yup. - She nodded with a smile as she bit the tip of one of the strawberries she had taken from the top of the cake and put the rest in Aemond's mouth. - She spent most of the time hiding, but she ate, drank water, and walked around the apartment a few times.

-Well, the vet said it's normal for this to happen while she adapts to the environment. - He smiled slightly after swallowing the strawberry, staring at Y/n's smiling red lips.

And with his heart still aching from the dark day, he gently pulled her by the waist and kissed her sweetly on the lips, feeling the strawberry flavor of his own lips mixing with hers in a soft caress.

After breaking the kiss, Y/n just buried her head in the crook of Aemond's neck, rubbing herself lovingly against him while sighing when she felt him stroking her hair affectionately. And with a sweet smile she walked back towards the dining room to cut the cake, followed closely by the eldest who stopped when passing by the office itself.

Aemond smiled as he looked over the computer table and found some drawings of how she wanted the front of the studio to look, some sketches of the interior and even some drawings of Vhagar throughout the day. In one of them, the cat was eating, in another just sitting on the chair and in another hidden under the bookshelf with only her long, fluffy, gray tail showing.

-What did you order for dinner? - He observed the practically perfectly organized table with curiosity as the serving bowls were covered.

-That Westerlands restaurant that we always went to in the past. - Y/n cut a slice of cake and placed it on Aemond's plate. - Ravioli with mushrooms and cheese. - She smiled, placing a slice on her own plate while Aemond murmured in approval of the dinner menu.

The two ate dessert before dinner and amidst smiles and conversations Aemond opened the wine that Y/n had ordered with the food and they both laughed when the cork hit the shelf hard, making Vhagar show her teeth in discomfort and hide under Aemond's chair, who was delighted with the fact that she felt safe around him.

In the tranquility of dinner conversations, Y/n told him that of all the places, the one she liked the most already had a proposal and was off the market. And Aemond squeezed her hand, humming and vehemently affirming that she would find an even better place, making her smile and lean towards him.

When they finished dinner, Y/n held his hands and they hugged while dancing to the soft music that played on the radio. Aemond buried his head in her soft hair that smelled of his shampoo and closed his eyes in pleasure, then distributed kisses on her face and neck, still feeling the light taste of the wine they had drunk on his lips while he kissed her.

And lost in the sweetness of that moment, he decided that he would not talk about anything that happened earlier with Y/n, at least not that night.

❦❦❦

The next day he did not wake her up, Y/n slept soundly between the covers and before leaving the apartment, Aemond just placed a soft kiss on her forehead, feeling his own heart ache in a strange way when he left her that morning.

Compared to the previous day, the morning was completely monotonous, and when it was close to 11:00, he sighed and headed to the meeting room for something that was finally relevant that day.

❦❦❦

Just like the previous day, Y/n got up, took a shower, got dressed and went straight to Aemond's office to continue organizing everything necessary for the opening of the studio. The hours passed while she took note of suppliers of good quality inputs. And feeling tired, she decided to eat a fruit to wait for lunch.

While she ate the peach, the browser's news tab updated and Y/n read some of it, rolling her eyes at all the sensationalism that was being done about the lives of members of high society while smiling, but then a new piece of news appeared in the breaking news carousel and her heart seemed to freeze in her chest the same moment she read it and the smile slowly died on her lips until all that was left was a soft tremor of despair.

Aemond Targaryen announces his engagement to Floris Baratheon.

Y/n felt her hands shaking uncontrollably as she clicked on the news, shaking her head as her eyes burned.

"The son of the magnate Viserys Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen has just announced the engagement with Floris Baratheon. According to him, the two would wait to make the announcement at the annual Targaryen Inc. charity ball, but faced with such happiness, they couldn't wait to make the announcement. Apparently Aemond Targaryen went to Lys to choose an exclusive ring for Floris made in the land of the goddess of love that she will wear at the ball. Happy news, isn't it?"

Y/n wanted to scream, scream until her lungs exploded and she no longer needed to feel that searing pain in her chest. She had barely noticed when the tears began to run down her cheeks, leaving her eyes blurry, and at that moment the only thing she could feel was pain.

Without even dressing appropriately, she opened the door to Aemond's apartment and slammed it behind her as she left the place in tears wearing only a short yellow dress and bare feet, barely seeing the path ahead of her down the hallway to the elevator.

-Miss Targaryen? - The doorman called her as soon as he got off the elevator in the building's lobby, seeing the state she was in, and Y/n felt like his voice was miles away. - Do you need something?

-Just order a taxi for me, please! That's all. - She begged amid sobs, barely able to breathe as she tried to wipe her own tears without success, the only thing Y/n wanted at that moment was to get out of that place.

The man just waved as he looked at her with a curious frown, but Y/n barely noticed, too lost in her own sadness to look around. And when the taxi arrived about three minutes later, she got in and drove away from there, still feeling the hot tears running down her cheeks, and no matter how much she squeezed her eyes, the bright letters announcing Aemond's engagement to another seemed to not disappear from her mind.

❦❦❦

-Congratulations, Mr. Targaryen. - Sana said politely as Aemond walked towards his own room, returning from the meeting, and the man frowned in visible confusion.

-For your engagement, of course. - The secretary smiled and Aemond felt his stomach drop.

-Where did you get such nonsense, Mrs. Heyors? - His voice sounded cold and sharp, making Lizze and Sana shrink in their chairs.

-I-It's on all the news sites, sir. - The woman lowered her head, unable to look him in the eye, and Aemond instantly turned the woman's computer screen to him, clicking on the news site in the tab next to it.

Bile rose in his throat instantly when he saw the huge photo of him next to Floris below the headline saying that he had announced an engagement between the two.

-Seven fucking hells. - He hissed in shock and without saying another word to either of them, Aemond turned and practically ran towards the elevator with only one thing on his mind, Y/n.

The secretaries just looked at him with silent judgmental looks and after the elevator door closed, Sana pulled her own chair up to Lizze's desk.

-What is this man planning to do? - She whispered, quickly looking over her shoulder to check if anyone was coming. - Marry the daughter of the Baratheons and have sex with his cousin in free time?

-Sana! - Lizze scolded her immediately, afraid that someone would hear them.

-But it's the truth and you know it. - She rolled her eyes. - Do you think he let us leave early on Friday night out of the pure kindness of his dark heart? I have a slight idea of ​​what the two of them must have been doing alone in that room after we left that day.

-What about this whole story about him going to Lys just to buy a ring for Miss Baratheon? - Lizze hissed, giving up on reprimanding her coworker. - Do me a favor, I've never seen this man even take the time to go with the girl to the corner and out of nowhere he made a 3 hour trip just to buy her a ring?

-It's obvious that he went to Lys with his cousin and now they're trying to cover up the whole thing. - Sana rolled her eyes, but then approached Lizze very seriously. - But I don't think he agreed to this engagement thing, did you see his face? It felt like he had come face to face with a bear in the forest and then I thought it was going to eat us alive.

❦❦❦

Aemond got into the car and sped away from Targaryen at high speed, not even stopping at the entrance. His mind was boiling with anxiety as he drove like a madman through the busy streets of Kings Landing. As he tried to call the apartment's landline without success.

-Seven hells. - He practically shouted as he hit the steering wheel hard. - What the fuck.

He had barely stopped the car in the building's parking lot and without even taking the key out of the ignition, he already got out, taking long steps towards the elevator, pressing the button continuously as if that would make the elevator arrive faster, as he pressed his short nails firmly into the palms of his hands.

When he finally reached the apartment, the door was unlocked and he jumped inside, already calling Y/n's name with his wide eyes shining with despair, but getting no response. As he approached the computer, he saw the screen frozen on his own face next to Floris's with the huge news of the engagement.

-Damn. Damn. Damn it. - He walked back towards the door, almost tripping over Vhagar's bowl full of food, who was sleeping under the couch once again.

Aemond ran to the building's reception in search of the only likely person who would have seen her. The doorman.

-She left a few minutes ago, sir. - The older man replied as he nervously played with a pen. - She asked me to call her a taxi, she seemed very upset about something.

-Where did she go? - Aemond demanded with a cutting voice.

-H-hotel Aegon's Fort. - The man stuttered shakily while Aemond barely heard and ran back towards the parking lot, leaving once again at high speed while feeling his hands sweating cold.

As soon as Aemond entered the hotel reception, everyone looked at him curiously, but he didn't care, he just walked to the reception as fast as his legs could carry him.

-I would like to know the room number of my cousin Y/n Targaryen. - He looked at the boy at the reception who swallowed hard, barely able to look him in the eye.

-I-I'm sorry sir, b-but she asked not to be d-disturbed. - The poor boy stuttered shakily looking at the counter as he answered.

-My family owns this hotel! - Aemond hissed softly, placing his hand firmly on the counter, looking at him with wide, threatening eyes. - Everything inside here belongs to me, including your job.

-What's your name, boy? - Aemond's voice sounded weaponous and the boy in front of him felt like he was going to vomit.

-It's-It's Tom sir.

-Very well Tim, I'm asking you something very simple… I think it's best to do it. - Aemond looked at him even harder as he spat the words, and the boy nodded quickly in response while stuttering Y/n's room number.

And without saying anything else Aemond walked with long strides to the elevator, barely able to breathe, feeling as if the air was thin, while his stomach churned with anxiety.

As soon as he reached the room at the end of the corridor on the thirteenth floor, Aemond knocked on the door with wild eyes as he waited for an answer. A few moments later, Y/n opened it and he could see her eyes filled with tears. When she saw him, she tried to close the bedroom door again, but Aemond held it firmly, preventing her from doing so.

-You have to believe me when I say that I didn't authorize any of this. - He said in a very serious voice, staring at her as he held the door.

-You didn't authorize it, but you allowed your mother to authorize it. - She laughed in derision, still trying to close the door without success.

And being careful not to hurt her, Aemond pushed the door with a little more force, entering the room, making Y/n grunt in anger and going in the other direction.

-Y/n, please… - He murmured with his eyes shining, bringing his hands to her face as he always did when he wanted to calm her down.

-Don't touch me! - She hissed in an angry voice full of venom, avoiding his touch while looking at him with wide eyes. - Your fiancée is Floris.

-Y/n, no. - He shook his head in a desperate attempt to explain himself.

-Go away Aemond, leave me alone! - She begged, pointing to the door and turning her back to him, once again feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes.

-You promised me! - Y/n cried, still with her back to him, but unable to contain the tremors in her body even as she hugged herself tightly to try. - You promised me you would solve this! That it would have nothing to do with Floris anymore, and now what? - She spoke with a broken voice, almost a sob turning towards him, and Aemond felt his heart breaking into pieces when he saw the pain so deep in her eyes. - Your face is in all the newspapers announcing an engagement!

-I didn't announce anything. - He whispered, slowly approaching her once again. - My mother and my grandfather…

-That's enough! - Y/n yelled at the mention of Alicent and Oto, her face contorted in anger once again. - I don't want to know! - She laughed in derision. - I really don't! Marry Floris, buy a really beautiful house for both of you and enjoy the woman you chose!

Y/n practically screamed through her tears as Aemond tried to approach her as if she were a wounded animal that would attack him with any false step.

-Y/n, I should have told you, my grandfather asked me yesterday to wait for the elections before ending everything with Floris. Just to not hurt his campaign. That's all. But I didn't agree to announce any engagement! - He shot the words quickly while trying to keep his voice soft before she interrupted him.

-It's not a big deal. - He muttered, getting closer to her who had walked towards the dressing table to get away from him. - I'm still yours.

-It's not a big deal? - She squeaked, looking even more furious, feeling her stomach churn when she heard him say that. - Aemond! How do you think I feel? - She gestured, almost choking on her words and crying. - How would you feel if I went out with someone else, let him touch me and then had a fucking announcement of my engagement in every newspaper in the country?

Aemond felt his blood boil at that thought and could almost taste iron in his mouth just by imagining whoever it was next to his Y/n, and unconsciously his face contorted with anger.

-I thought it wasn't a big deal! - She spoke ironically, glaring at him as she dried her tears with the back of her hands once again.

-Y/n, if I do this, there might be a chance for the two of them to accept us being together! It's not just about being with Floris, I don't even like her! But if we do this, my grandfather might help me convince my mother in some time…

-How long until I become your lover? - Y/n cried in a desperate voice, staring at him.

-Y/n…

-How long, Aemond? - She almost screamed, her voice muffled by crying and pain as her lips trembled. - How long until your grandfather decides that you need to marry her, and you accept his decision? And I become your lover, watching you give her everything you promised me! Do you even remember the things you used to say to me? Of everything we planned together?

-It's not going to come to that! - He denied immediately, feeling his heart break when he saw the hurt in her eyes. - I would never let it get to that point, Y/n.

-Your grandfather is one of the most cunning people I've ever met in my life, Aemond. Unlike your mother, he never liked me, not even for a moment. What makes you believe that if you roll over and show him your belly, he will somehow miraculously accept us and convince your mother of that too?

Aemond had no answer for that and with his silence Y/n just laughed humorlessly, bringing her hands to her face and squeezing her own eyes shut, holding back the urge to just scream in frustration and anger.

-I will fix the things. - Aemond murmured, taking her hands between his and holding them tightly, looking into her eyes. - I swear to you that I will.

-I can no longer believe the promises you make me when we are alone. - Y/n sniffed, pulling her hands from his and crossing her arms protectively around her body. - Because when the day dawns and your mother snaps her fingers, you will run to the hem of her skirt like the obedient son that you are. - She sobbed, her face contorted in pain as she clenched more and more tightly into herself. - And maybe I would do the same, but I don't have a mother to take me in.

The older felt broken, he felt as if at any moment he would collapse on the floor of that room because he could not bear to be the reason for her tears. And when he tried to get closer to her once more, Y/n pushed his hand away from her forcefully, wiping her tears angrily and walking in the opposite direction of the room.

-Don't you lay a hand on me! - She hissed in fury with her dilated pupils leaving her eyes completely dark in a frightening way in contrast to the redness caused by crying. - I'm not yours to touch anymore!

-And I want to make one thing very clear to you, Aemond. If you're having to choose between me and this whole farce, you can go ahead and marry Floris to make your grandfather and mother happy. - Pain and anger pulsed in Y/n's eyes as she spat those words about Aemond. - Because if you really loved me, you wouldn't have to be choosing!

-Don't you dare question the intensity of my feelings for you. - Aemond hissed, his eyes burning, holding her by the shoulders and staring at her as he felt his own blood burning in his veins. - Don't you dare minimize the pain I felt in these years without you! How hard it was for me to lose you!

-How hard was it for you? - She mocked, throwing her head back in mockery, freeing herself from Aemond's hands once again but then walking towards him in a theatrical way while spitting out the words. - Poor Aemond Targaryen, he went to the college of his dreams and stayed here in Kings Landing doing whatever he wanted with his life.

-I was stuck in a septum for five years! - She shouted with wide eyes, putting her finger in Aemond's face. - You have no idea what I had to go through alone while you were here living your life as if nothing ever happened. I was left with all the consequences of what we did!

-You don't know half of what happened! - She cried, her face contorted in pain and her lips trembling, tangling her hands in her own hair as she screamed. - Half of what I had to go through alone!

-I asked you more than once if you wanted to talk about it. - Aemond shouted, his face contorted with anger, losing patience for her touching such a sensitive spot. - I asked you if you were okay, and you dodged me as if I were a stranger, someone you couldn't trust!

The words almost sounded jumbled on his tongue as he spoke and he seemed to be three times his size in his fury, but Y/n didn't back down, she just got even closer with so much anger and pain that it seemed like she was being swallowed by them.

-Maybe you're not! - Maybe I shouldn't trust you! Because after everything we've been through, after all the promises, when I come back you're with someone else, and do you know what the problem is? - She hit his chest with her index finger furiously.

- I was an idiot for continuing to love you and thinking that you felt the same way too, that nothing had changed over the years. I was a fool for believing that everything would still be the same, for blindly believing in the promises you made to me. You're a liar! Liar! Coward! - Y/n screamed and cried uncontrollably, hitting his chest while Aemond tried to hold her arms without hurting her in the process.

-You haven't said you love me even once since I came back. - She sobbed against his chest with a broken voice. - Not once.

-I still do. - Guilt chewed and swallowed him for not being able to say the words he wanted to say to Y/n at that moment and he just stroked her disheveled hair, making another wave of fury take over the younger girl's body, who pushed him away when she felt despised by him.

-Then do something about it if you really still feel that way about me! - She challenged him with her eyes flickering with anger. - Go down to the hall and tell everyone what we are to each other!

-You know I can't do that. - He muttered irritated with his patience again on the line when he heard Y/n question his feelings out loud once again.

-Because you don't want to do it! - She practically growled infuriated. - Why don't you care about how I feel!

-Why do you act like you're the only one with feelings? How do you suppose I feel about this? - Aemond shouted loudly, walking towards her with wide eyes.

-I can't just go around doing whatever I want because these things don't just affect me! - He yelled at her, but even Aemond's screams weren't loud and shrill like hers, they were contained and slightly muffled as his face contorted with rage. - It affects our family too! Affect my grandfather! You should know this better than anyone else!

His angry screams almost made her retreat, unable to deal with Aemond's anger directed at her. But then he shouted something that made her heart break even more if that was possible.

-But no, you're just like your father, you don't care about what happens around you as long as you're satisfied! - When Aemond realized what he had done, it was too late to take back the words.

-You didn't say that! - She whispered, frozen in place, looking at him with her face red and slightly swollen from crying.

-Y/n I… - The eldest held his breath, momentarily freezing when he saw the hurt in her eyes, the fury draining from his body as quickly as it had appeared.

-If I'm as selfish and crazy as my dad, then what are you still doing here? - She laughed humorlessly and looked at the floor as she took a deep breath.

-Fuck… - Aemond grunted with his hands on his head, looking at her with teary eyes. - That's not what I meant!

-Do you know what my dad came to Kings Landing for my 16th birthday? - She looked at him very seriously. - He came to get me, to take me to live with him in Pentos. But I didn't go, I chose to stay! I chose you! But I guess you never chose me. - She cried muffledly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked at him.

-That isn't true and you know it! - He hissed, taking firm steps towards her. - In every life, in every choice I would always choose you! - Aemond spoke with conviction, looking at her with teary eyes.

-You're not choosing now. - She mumbled, barely able to look at him.

-I wish I had never set foot in that house. - Y/n whispered in the midst of her tears, feeling like she would collapse at any moment. - Never having met you. I gave myself body and soul to you, I gave you all of me, every part of my being. And you… - She choked on her tears, unable to say another word.

Aemond didn't know what to say, didn't know what to answer. If she had cut him with a knife, it wouldn't have hurt as much as those words. The two stared at each other for what seemed like hours, breathing heavily and their eyes full of tears, without saying a single word. Until Aemond's phone started ringing and anger bit Y/n in the ankle once again.

-It must be your grandpa. - She mocked, squinting her eyes. - Or perhaps your mother. - She curled her lips in false curiosity. - Or better yet, maybe it's your dear fiancée!

-Here you can give this to her to match the beautiful ring that I'm sure your grandfather already bought! - Y/n screamed at the top of her lungs, ripping the sapphire necklace from her neck and throwing it at Aemond with force while his eyes widened, holding the beautiful and delicate silver necklace between his fingers, preventing it from falling to the floor.

-Get out of my room! - She screamed, pushing him away, barely giving him time to react as she held the necklace. - Get out of here! I don't want to see you anymore! Never!

-Please Y/n. - He looked at her in despair. - I'm begging you, let's solve all this!

-Don't come after me anymore! - She squealed between sobs and screams as she pushed him out of the room. - Better yet, forget that I exist!

-I don't think you'll have much trouble doing this again, considering the last time. - The venom in her voice as she said this before slamming the door could have killed Aemond right there.

And with the bang of the door slamming, Y/n collapsed sobbing on the floor, hugging her own legs and feeling the last remaining parts of her heart breaking into more pieces than she thought she could put together.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries

Final notes: All must choose... who is right and who is wrong in this fight? I hope you enjoyed the chapter my dear readers! 💕🥺❤️‍🩹

Next chapter

[adelheidvonschicksal]

hiii!! how are you? god, it's my first time requesting and I'm super awkward but I've been kinda having this dark mc brain rot! what would the love and Deepspace boys do with a secret gambler mc who's just like yumeko jabami? that'd be so interesting! feel free to ignore this ask if that makes you uncomfortable and have a nice day!

🎲 LND Scenarios with Dark Gambler!MC

🎲 Synopsis: Love and Deepspace men dealing with their dark gambler partner's eccentrics.

🎲 Pairing: LND x GN!Reader

🎲 Content Warning: sexual undertones, mild humor, no pronouns/looks mentioned (Jabami is for the aesthetic), Zayne is the only one vibing, there's no mercy in kitty cards!

🎲 A/N: Thanks for letting me take a crack at your request. I never watched Kakeguri but I think I got the vibe! I did tone the behavior down a little to fit LND more but I think you'll be satisfied. Zayne's part turned into my favorite even though I had the hardest time thinking of a scene for him!

“Let me have a turn.”

Xavier shudders at the dark aura he senses behind him despite the sweet smile plastered on your face. It’s almost like seeing a demon reflecting in the glass of the claw machine but in the form of an angel. He knew it was a bad idea to come to the arcade. He was no good at the machine no matter how much he tried and the nearly empty bowl where his tokens once laid was the proof.

“It’s alright. I didn’t think I could get it anyway. I’m not really good at this game.”

You frown at him. “It’s not you, love. These games are designed to cheat people out their money. It's disgusting really.”

Xavier gulps at that word. Cheat. If there was one thing you hated in this world, it was unfairness. The crooked smile forming on your face forces him to return eye contact with the special edition bunny plush he’s failed to get time and time again. Somehow, he sees fear in its eyes.

“I’ll get it for you.” Your hand reaches into the coin bowl; each clink makes his throat tighten as you finally pull out one of the coins between your fingers. “That bunny will be coming home with us.”

Xavier knows there’s little he can do when you sound that determined. Luckily, you won the bunny in two attempts.

“Ta-da! A fluffy bunny for my fluffy bunny.”

A sense of relief washes over him when the round rabbit hits his hands. Maybe he was being overly paranoid. However, his relief is quickly buffed out by anxiety when he sees you place another coin in the machine. It’s only a few seconds before the chimes of the machine go off again. Then, you pass him another toy, a carrot this time.

��Every bunny needs a snack!” you coo, but your tone carries that familiar edge that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand. “Now, whom shall we capture next?”

To Xavier, it sounds less like a question and more like a decree of war. “I think these two are more than enough for today."

“Xavier, this game stole forty dollars from you. I’m not going to let it get away with that,” you declare, proving it was just as he feared as your voice lowers. “Now, which one do you want, dear? Oh, I know, I'll just win them all for you! How does that sound?" you ask, but Xavier is eerily aware that it won’t matter what he says when you’re like this.

“Here we go!” you mewl as the claw begins to whir up.

Ignoring the shiver that climbs up his spine when your voice drips with the venom of ecstasy, there’s little Xavier can do but take another step back, buy another bowl of coins, and hold them for you as the role of a supportive boyfriend.

It’s an hour later when he finds himself surrounded by plushies, much more than he can hold, and the fear that you’re going to get kicked out the arcade any second.

“Cleaned out again!” you announce with a shrill breathy gasp, the giggle you give reminding him of the maniacal laughter Lemonette chortles out whenever the wanderer sprays lemon juice in his eyes. “Tell the employees we need another refill.”

“We don't have enough hands to carry all the ones you already won.”

“What?” Your focus finally breaks from the game and to the many toys scattered on the floor around him, overtaking his feet, then to the worried look on his face. “I went overboard again, didn’t I?”

Xavier sighs. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“How do you suggest I do that?” he asks with a shake of his head. “You’re impossible to stop.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him innocently. “I did get you your bunny though!”

“At the cost of the poor arcade owner’s precious sanity,” he reminds you but the smile on his face is less than scolding when he sees the guilty sulk you have and the lax of your shoulders. “Let’s find a donation center to drop these little guys off. We’ll count it as our good deed for the month.”

“Good idea! How about we surprise all the kids at the hospital?” you agree. Xavier chuckles. There’s the angel again.

“Pretty please, Rafayel!”

The painter rolls his eyes, scooting further away from you to find a different spot on the floor to sit as you crawl after him. Rafayel turns his head away and strokes his paintbrush down the center of his canvas.

“No. Now, go away. Shoo. Shoo, go paw at someone else,” he says, waving the wet paintbrush at you.

“But no one else will play with me,” you whine.

“I wonder why?”

You are terrifying when you play kitty cards. Unfortunately, he was once the only one foolish enough to play with you because he wasn’t aware of how you got when you gambled even when the winnings were only a few pieces of chocolate. He knows better now. Despite your cute precious face, you were evil incarnate when it came to games.

“Surely, you pity me my dear sweet, gorgeous boyfriend. Did I forget to mention talented?” You give him the puppy eyes to try to wear down his resolve; your hand glides over his bangs, lovingly pushing them from his face. As much as he loves trying to make you happy, this is one of the few things in the world that he refuses to listen to you about.

“As true as all of that may be, I prefer living thanks,” he says before switching brushes to another color. A splash of blue would be excellent.

“Is this about last time?” you ask him. “It was an accident.”

“You nearly broke my hand!”

“You were trying to swap the kitties!” you yell back. Rafayel was a no-good cheater when it came to playing games and not the least bit sorry about it. It’s not your fault that you grabbed his hand by reflex nor that he was so dramatic about it.

“So, the sentence is hand breaking? That's cruel and unusual punishment!” he says with a gasp.

"Is it wrong to take away your tool for cheating?"

“Have you forgotten what I do for a living? You might as well lay me out in the sun to dry.”

Sighing, you decide to agree with him. You suppose you could be a little competitive when it came to games. Besides, they say it’s easier to catch more flies with honey. “Look, I’m sorry, baby,” you apologize and smooth out a hand over his thigh. “How about I give you a super special prize if you win.”

Rafayel barely looks at you from the corner of his eyes that slowly drop to where your hand rests on his leg. You’re on your hands and knees next to him, perched up like a cat begging to be petted.

“I’m listening,” he says, continuing to mix his paints. Purring, you lean in and whisper in his ear the prizes you’re willing to trade for him to play one little round with you.

His heart races with each word. It’s suddenly becoming harder to keep the stroke of the brush straight when your hand starts to trail further and further up his thigh. “Well, when you put it that way—” and he almost gives in until he sees the corner of your lips curling up into a smirk. “Wait. No. I refuse.”

“Not even if—” and you whisper in his ear again. He swears the brush handle will splinter if he grips it any tighter. His face is glowing a light red by the time you pull away. He might be Lumerian but he’s still a man; it’s difficult to bury the memories of pleasure under the memories of his fingers squeezing in your hard grip the last time you caught him cheating. He manages, somehow.

“How easy do you think I am? I’m not open for business whenever you want, darling.” He manages to spat out, not exactly the best rejection but it’ll suffice.

You puff up your cheeks at him. “You’re the meanest boyfriend ever!”

“And you’re evil when a card gets in your hand,” he argues back. The last thing he sees is the red of your shirt as you pounce on him and blue paint spilling across the floor.

“You’re so nice, Zayne. You’re the only one who's brave enough to play against me.”

Zayne glances up from the stack of cards in his hands to catch your tongue glancing over your lips to wet them as you stare him down with dilated eyes. He expected you to get worked up but not quite this early into the game.

“I had the free time today.”

The real reason he schedules these regular games with you is to keep your strange habit under control, like providing a little bit of a drug to an addict; or in simpler terms, walking an overly energetic Husky so it won’t tear up the furniture. It beats the many times you ring him up at two in the morning, needing him to come rescue you out of a tough situation. He knows you’ll never learn your lesson with him always swooping in when needed, but he can’t stand the possibility of you getting hurt should he not come to your rescue every time you over bet your hand and need him to win back your money for you. The doctor never really expected to be a poker or kitty card expert at this age but alas.

“I’m guessing there’s at least one Kitty Plot in your hand, am I right?” you ask him; and he doesn’t understand how you sound more excited each time he obtains another assist card.

“And if I told you there was?”

The giggle you let out sounds much too vulgar for a simple game of kitty cards, but he’s used to this eccentricity of yours at this point. “Then that means I get to beat you even when you’re at your best!”

You slap down a Freeze card and Skip card. There’s not much he can do other than draw his assist card and ride out your next turn. In the next phase, you throw out another assist card, one that will allow you to restock your empty number stockpile and seal your victory.  

“Any last words?” you ask him. He can see that you’re starting to twitch with the excitement that comes from besting him. It’s the most dramatic thing he’s seen, but he’d be a liar to say it wasn’t…satisfying…to watch your face fill with shock as he blocks your finishing move with a Meow This. Maybe you were rubbing off on him after all, he muses.

“You held on to that all this time?” you ask him, recalling the many chances he could’ve blocked your earlier plays. You were aware he was luring you into a trap by playing the slow game, but you thought you could get around it this time. With a dreamy sigh, you cup your cheek in your hand. “I should’ve known. Just careless.”

“Any last words?” he asks, mocking your earlier victory line.

“None I’m afraid. I’m completely at your mercy; helpless in the face of your onslaught,” you tell him, and he ignores the little tilt of seduction lacing your voice and the squirming of your thighs as he starts erasing every point you’ve earned.

Slowly, your points decrease one by one as he throws out assist after assist while you let out little whimpers and mutter compliments under your breath with each cup color change and point reducer he throws out.

You’re going to lose! Again! He’s incredible as always.

But you’re offered deliverance when instead of erasing the six points of your blue kitty the cup color changes to match it. You hear Zayne “tch” under his breath, and you can’t help but laugh when he finally has to give up and fill the last white kitty cup with a pathetic low-level kitten.

In the end, you only won by two points but that was all you needed.

“I won…I won!” you repeat, rocking back and forth as you hug yourself and toss your head back. “I finally beat you! You won’t believe how long I waited for this day! Now what should my prize be?” You fall back onto the floor, kicking your feet. “It’s so hard to decide. I honestly didn’t think this day would come! There are so many things I’ve dreamed of making you do for me!”

Zayne presses his lips into a thin line as he begins to collect the kittens from the cup. “Calm down. You’re drooling on the carpet,” he exaggerates, not that you're in the right mind to listen.

“I got it. I know just what I want,” you squeal, holding your finger in your mouth to muffle your laughs. Zayne tenses when you sit up, much like a vampire from a horror movie, and lock eyes with him; he doesn’t think he’s felt so targeted since his days in the military.

“Meow for me, Zayne,” you demand, and his face burns at the ridiculousness of your request.

“You—”

“Are you backing out? That’s poor sportsmanship especially considering I took every nasty medicine each time you won.”

Zayne shakes his head. “No. I was simply thinking that’s surprisingly tame for you.”

You lift your eyebrows curiously. “So, does that mean?”

Zayne leans in over the table. In this position, he can see how your face softens from that lust-filled haze that gambling always manages to place over you. He doesn’t know if you can actually get embarrassed, but you certainly look flustered as he locks eyes with you.

“Meow.”

“Oh,” you gasp, eyes wide. “T-That was absolutely wonderful,” you blurt out with a clasp of your hands. “Do it again.”

“It was a one-time deal,” Zayne rejects before straightening his back.

“I didn’t think you would do it. One more little meow for me?” you plead. “This was a special victory, and I didn’t get to enjoy my winnings properly.”

“If you want to hear it again, I’m afraid you’ll have to beat me a second time,” he answers bluntly.

“And if you win?”

“You do what I want.”

“Which is?”

Zayne smirks at you. “All I can tell you is that I’ll ask for much more than a meow.”

“You’re on! You’re on! You’re on! What better way to solidify my position as the best kitty card player than with a streak?”

“I take it we’re playing on Hell Mode then.”

“What do you mean? It’s always heaven playing against you, Zayne. You’re the only one who can give an actual challenge,” you sweetly coo, nearly a moan. “Unfortunately, your reign will officially be coming to an end. I’m going to beat you without luck; and when I do, I think I’ll make you meow and purr for my reward.”

“Hurry and restart the match then if you believe that.”

Zayne watches as you excitedly set the game back up. He supposes that this type of gambling is more fun than gambling with chocolates. At least until he sees your social media message the next morning.

Guess who finally toppled the old king and became the new Ruler of Kitty Cards? I won’t name them. No one asked. It’s not polite to be a sore loser, my adorable meowing subject.