#this was supposed to go for longer but it was getting to 3k+ words
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godmadeaterribleerror · 15 days ago
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Just Giving In
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Read on A03!
Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, truth curses (with a silly twist!), light fluff, angst, smut (fingering, p in v sex, creampie), love confessions, no use of y/n
Summary/Warnings: You're under a very annoying truth curse. The kind of truth curse that will kill you if one very specific, Dean-related truth isn't told. But apparently no one's allowed to just die in peace anymore.
Author's Note: It's amazing how I'm able to delude myself into truly believing that I'll actually write something short and only horny. No. We must write 3k of story and 5k of emotional smut. Enjoy!
Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine
Word Count: 8.6k
It’s past midnight when you get back to the bunker. 
You were supposed to be back that afternoon, but certain complications arose, and you’re back now. You’ll have a long, sleepless night to come up with an excuse for why exactly you were five hours late, didn’t text Sam and Dean that you were going to be five hours late, where exactly you were in the first place, and why the car looks like that. Scraped and dented and wrecked, like it had been put through a meat grinder and spat out in a hunk of metal that somehow didn’t explode when you drove it. 
You’re glad you didn’t take the Impala. If Dean yelled at you right now, you might start crying on the spot. Thankfully—in what should be a rare stroke of luck, but feels like a dagger right into your stomach—Sam and Dean seem to have given up on trying to wait for you to come home, so you’re free to retreat to your room and cry in private, like any reasonable adult who’s probably going to die within the week would-
“You’re back.” 
A light behind you flicks on as Dean snaps from across the room, and you grimace as everything inverts. Dean did wait up for you, and that’s tiny and electric high that goes right up your spine. You’re also not lucky, but that just feels like a given at this point. 
You will not cry in front of Dean. You have spent the whole night repeating to yourself that, no matter what happens here, you will not cry in front of Dean. He either think nothing of this week, and it will fade into the distance as you figure this out yourself and he never knows, or he’ll look back on it with nothing but simple grief and anger, remember you fondly and furiously instead of as a weak, emotional, manipulative bitch. Remembers you as the person you’ve spent so long proving yourself to be, instead of the feral girl they’d found you as. 
It doesn’t make turning around to face him any easier. He’s sitting in his usual chair, glaring at you with his arms crossed, and there are bags under his eyes that you put there. A tight line to his lips that’s your responsibility, because you’d fucked up and he knows it. He always knows it. 
Because you fuck up a lot.
“Hey, Dean, what’s up-“
“What’s up?” He snaps, and you have to force your body not to flinch. “You’re crawling back here at one in the goddamn morning without ever, I don’t know, thinking to fucking call when you realized you’d be late, and you’re saying what’s up?”
You swallow. “I lost my phone.”
“You, fuck-“ Dean rubs his jaw with a hand, giving you a look of pure disbelief. “You could’ve borrow someone’s, or prayed to Cas, or just, goddamnit-“ he mutters your name, looking at you with an exhaustion that makes your gut flail. “Where the hell even were you?”
“Um,” you glance down at your hands. “Hunt?”
“Hunt.” His voice is flat, and you wince. “That’s all you’re going to say.”
You nod. “Rowena called me. Needed help with something.”
“And you just fucking went with her, without telling anyone-“
“I didn’t just go with her, I brought a gun. I was careful.” you try to stand a little taller, looking back up to Dean, because you need to sell your half-truth of a story and get out of here. Out of where Dean’s just right there, and it’s making your skin crawl and your blood cold and your eyes push out of your skull the longer you lie to him. “And I did tell Cas-“
“Son of a bitch, that’s not enough.” Dean groans, pushing out of the chair to glower down at you. It’s an intimidation tactic you’ve seen him use before, where he makes himself large and furious, almost beast like. Sometimes it makes him look bigger than Sam, and he only pulls it out when he’s furious, and demanding answers. You don’t think he knows that, when he uses it on you, it does not have the intended effect.  
“Dean-“
“Cas didn’t tell us.” Dean hisses your name, stalking across the room and getting far too close for your brain to function properly. “You need to tell us, because we were, I was-“ Dean cuts himself off with a grunt, his whole body rigid as he scans over your face. 
“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and it’s the truth, so it’s like clear, fresh water over your head and down your throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”
“You didn’t-” Dean’s jaw is clenched, and his words seem pushed through his teeth. “Just go to bed,” he mutters your name, and you feel something in your chest snap. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
You nod weakly, and almost run away from him. But not to bed. You’ve already blown this up way too much to just go to bed. 
You go right to Sam’s room and bang on the door, keeping a careful eye over your shoulder for Dean to walk into the hall.
It takes a very long, tense minute, but eventually you hear a groan from the other side of the door, tired words muffled through the wood.
“Dean, she’ll be back, and you’re not helping anything-“ The door swings open to reveal a messy haired, bleary-eyed Sam, and he blinks at you with a frown. “Oh, you’re back. You should go tell Dean-“
“He knows.”
“Cool, that’s good.” Sam scans over you—bouncing slightly on your feet, every movement and breath feeling frantic and borrowed—and frowns. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Oh, uh, you need to talk about it-“
You don’t bother to answer, pushing past Sam into his room and dropping on the end of his mattress, watching him blink at you, his frown deepening every second.
“Yeah, you can come in-“
“Can you please close the door?” You whisper, like Dean might somehow hear from wherever he’d gone after your fight. 
Sam nods slowly, and the movement you hear the click of the doorknob, the words start to fall out of you like vomit. 
“I fucked up, Sam. I really, really fucked up, it’s bad, I’m fucking fucked-“
“Woah, slow down.” Sam moves across the room, running a hand through his hair. “Just, start from the top. Where were you-“
“Rowena called me for help. Some sort of coven drama, she said she needed some backup because her magic was weakened.” You take a long, shaky breath, unable to look anywhere but the corner of Sam’s carpet. “I told Cas, just in case it was a trap, and left. I owed her a favor-“
“Wait, since when did you owe Rowena a favor-“
“Mark of Cain.” You mumble. “I told her I’d owe her if she helped Dean. One favor, cashable on anything.”
Sam says your name slowly. “You didn’t need to do that, we would have figured it out. I mean, Dean wouldn’t want you to-“
“I know, I don’t need you to-“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can we focus on one stupid choice at a time, please?”
“Yeah, sorry, keep going. Why are you fucked.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek, and decide to skip most of the details. Sam did not need to know about how the case was indeed at trap, or how you’d known it was a trap, but the favor had been a blood oath, so you weren’t able to run or call them. He didn’t need to know how you’d mowed down about five witches with the car—the sickening crunch still rattling around your skull—or how it wasn’t just blood and sweat on your brow, but something from an animal you’d really hoped you’d mistranslated from Latin. 
He just needs to know the reason you hadn’t killed Rowena when you’d escaped and taken out the rest of the coven. 
He just needs to know about the problem.
“It went to shit. Really big shit, Sam. I’m kind of… cursed.”
There’s a long moment of silence, and when you finally gather the confidence to look at Sam, he’s gaping at you, frozen in place.
“What do you mean,” his voice is low, every word slow and deliberate. “Kind of cursed.”
“I mean very cursed.” You mumble. “Really fucking cursed.”
“Shit.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I said you were probably fine, Dean’s gonna kill me-“
“No!” You stand up frantically, your voice almost a squeak. “Don’t tell Dean!”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I tell Dean?!” Sam snaps, looking at you like you’ve gone insane. “If you’re really cursed, we need all hands, and Dean-“
“He can’t know, Sam, please.” You might start crying, every word choked in your throat. “Don’t tell him.”
“I…” Sam trials off, his face dropping into a deep frown that seems to be mostly made of worry as he says your name. “What, exactly, is the curse?”
You sigh, hugging yourself as you speak. “If I don’t resolve my deepest secret, I’ll die.”
Sam blinks. “Like, die die? Death die?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.” His eyes widen as the situation fully sinks in, his whole body going slack as he pulls the pieces together. “Fuck.”
You hum a soft agreement. “Fuck.”
“And why can’t I tell Dean? I mean, he’ll want to help-“
“You know why.” You whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”
“Fuck.” Sam groans. “And you’d rather die than-“
“Yes.” You lower yourself down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare ahead at nothing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just. I can’t. I don’t-“ You taste the sting of metal as you bite through your cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I’m going to d-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound, and hear the bed shift as Sam drops at your side and pulls you into a gentle hug.
“We’ll figure it out.” He mutters your name, and you make another weak, strangled noise. “I promise. You’re going to be okay.”
Over your first, weak sob, you don’t hear the door open. You only know it opens because Dean clears his throat, and your blood turns white-hot in your body, caught between embarrassment and nerves and a deep, soft and starved piece of your heart that’s trying to climb into your limbs and rip your body away from Sam’s to fly to Dean’s.
“Sammy, she-“ He cuts himself off as he sees you, and you die a little at how he says your name. Like he hates it. “You’re in here.”
You nod, keeping your face angled down, and you hear Dean shift slightly in the doorway. 
“Why are you in Sam’s room.”
There’s no good answer for that, and Sam doesn’t seem to have one either. There’s no plausible lie for why you’re on the floor on Sam’s room, why you’re sniffling, and why he’s hugging you that doesn’t sound insane. Even the truth wouldn’t exactly be an easy sell.
And it hurts. When Dean just sighs and grunts that he doesn’t want to know—that you and Sam can go back to fucking braiding each other’s hair or whatever—and stomps out of the room, it’s like a knife to your gut. But you can’t tell him. Not the truth. Not any of it.
So this will only be the first knife. And you’d worry about what you would be telling him when this was over—how you could possibly explain yourself—if you had any faith you were going to get out of this. 
But you don’t. The week crawls on, and it all only gets so much worse. Vague illness starts to feel like you’re being mauled from inside, and Dean’s anger turns to bullets.
You spend most of your days in the library with Sam, combing through book after book, looking for anything about how you can fix this, and every time Dean walks in, he looks like he wants to punch someone. Like he’s disgusted by your very presence where he can see you, like you’re a spider that’s crawled into his house and he can’t even stand the sight of you. 
“I’m getting dinner.” He snaps on the third night, and when you look up from your book—Sam standing behind you, having hunched over your body to read the passage you’d been pointing to—Dean’s jaw is clenched, his fists curled at his side. “Neither of you got groceries, so I’m ordering. What do you want.”
His voice is flat. It makes your chest feel like it’s being run over by a train.
“I’ll take whatever you get.” You offer him a small smile, because you can’t help yourself, and it just makes him glare more. “But can I please have a milkshake as well?”
Dean narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know where the hell I’m going.”
“You’re going to the diner, Dean.” You shrug. “You always go to the diner.”
He grunts, something hot flashing over his face that you don’t understand. “Fine. Milkshake.”
He doesn’t bother to ask any follow-up questions. He doesn’t bother to wait for Sam to say what he wants. Dean just marches up to the garage, vanishes for an hour—the diner is ten minutes away, and you start to feel your stomach and heart twist the longer he’s gone—and returns with a slam of the door, throwing a salad at Sam and placing a burger and milkshake in front of you before stomping out of the library.
Dean got your favorite flavor. You hadn’t told him to, but he had.
It tastes like chalk. And you’ve never hated yourself more.
After that, he barely speaks to you. Just low grunts and glowers at you whenever you cross paths, his presence in the bunked suddenly scares. He’d usually sit with you and Sam while you read, cracking unhelpful jokes that make Sam roll his eyes and you giggle, but he’s just gone. Locked in the Dean Cave or the garage, shuffling around the kitchen with a sullen expression, swallowing his dinner whole and refusing to really even look at you.
It hurts more than any anger could. It’s lonely and cancerous the longer it goes on, because you’re still talking to and hanging out with Sam, but he doesn’t count. Your whole heart isn’t orbiting around Sam. The curse is completely indifferent to Sam. The curse doesn’t care when Sam grumbles or frowns at you. It cares when Dean hates you. You think it can feel that this won’t be resolved—because it won’t be, you grow more and more certain with every passing day that this is how you will die—and takes the opportunity to root deeper into your body. Every sneer or glare Dean gives you sits under your nails to claw at your skin. It covers you in sweat in the dead of night, and chokes you when you’re in the shower and the water’s burning your skin.
Sam keeps trying to convince you to just do it, just say the thing to Dean because the worst that can happen is that you’re heartbroken but alive.
“And I really don’t think it would even come to that.” He tells you from across the table at 2am, because you’re running out of time and sleep isn’t something you can even remember how to do anymore. “I mean, it’s Dean-“
“That’s the problem, Samuel.” You hiss. The curse has started to make you mean, and if you make it out alive, you’ll have to buy Sam a million bottles of hair gel to make up for what you’re putting him through. “It’s Dean. He already doesn’t like me-“
Sam frowns. “Why would you think that-“
“Because I’m a responsibility.” You’re spitting, and it tastes like venom. “I’m your kid shadow, I’m Dean’s kid shadow, I’m a burden-“
“You’re not a burden,” Sam says your name slowly. “To either of us. I mean, if what you said about Rowena is true, you saved Dean from the Mark-“
“That doesn’t count. That was just a deal I made-“
“A deal you made for Dean.” Sam’s pushing back. You wish he’d stop. “Most people in our lives wouldn’t have done that for us. And Dean doesn’t think you’re his kid shadow, by the way. I mean, I’ve only ever-“
“Sam.” Your voice is flat. A little broken. “Please don’t. Even if he doesn’t hate me, I- I just can’t-“
“But Dean-“
“Please.” You’re going to cry again. “You won’t convince me.”
Sam sighs, shaking his head. “Well, we need to try something. I’m not just going to let you die.”
You don’t think that’s up to Sam. You don’t think it’s up to anyone anymore. You won’t tell Dean, because you’ve scanned over book after book about spell phrasing, and decided that telling Dean wouldn’t even help. You had to resolve your deepest secret. Rejection that burns your heart to ash, that clouds your lungs and makes you cower and falter won’t be resolving anything, and then you’ll just die in more pain.
You let Sam convince you to try something. More for him than for you. You lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at your hideous reflection in the mirror—your skin a little sunken, your eyes lined with red, your lips raw from being chewed until they bled—and start speaking a whisper, because you can’t stand the sound of your own voice.
“I love Dean Winchester.” You tell yourself, as if you’re not so deeply aware of how your love is tattooed onto your every breath and heartbeat. “I love him. I am going to die, and I love him, and I am very-“ You choke slightly, your eyes stinging as the world blurs. “I am very, very sorry. Not for loving him, but for forcing him to be loved by me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving him. I’m sorry I’m leaving him. But I am not sorry for loving him. I… I spent a lifetime surrounded by cruel animals who called themselves angels, and he’s the only person I’ve ever- I could believe- I just-“ You drop your head, turning up the faucet to drown out every weak sob and apology. “I love him. And he… he’s too good be obligated to love me. So I think I’ll just…”
You trail off, and crumble onto the tile floor. When you dry your tears and yank yourself back together, Sam’s waiting for you a little down the hall. You shake your head, his shoulders slump, and that’s it. For Sam it’s not—he turns around and marches right back to the library—but for you, it is. You’re done. 
You’ll hole up in your room and die alone. Like how’d you’d been meant to all along, lent only a little bit of extra time by Dean saving you to begin with.
And that time had run out. So you’ll just go die alone.
lay flat on your bed as your vision starts to dance with spots, and spend your time trying to image what a heaven you’re not allowed into will look like. Cas has told you every person gets their own, but you don’t really want that. It sounds like more of your life, and it’s pointless to worry about because you’re headed nowhere but down, but you’d still rather spend eternity with someone.
One person. You’d like to spend eternity with one person. 
The same person who had somehow gotten into your locked room, and is snapping your name as he stands at the foot of your bed. You’d be angrier he’d just barged in if you could remember how to be anything but in pain. You’d snap back if your mouth knew how to be anything but numb. 
“Dean-“
“What the fuck are you doing.” Dean hisses, and you close your eyes, the light suddenly painfully bright. “What the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing.” You whisper, and he scoffs. 
“Nice shot, sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.”
“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Dean, I just don’t feel well.”
“That’s fucking bullshit-“
You sigh. “It’s not. I’m sick.” 
There’s a moment of silence, then, “how sick.”
“Fever.” You mumble. “Stomach bug. Maybe the flu. You should probably leave-“
“No,” he grunts, and you hear his steps. He’s coming closer, and your skin might be boiling off your body. “I’m not leaving you-“
“It’s not leaving if I ask you to go.” You mumble, and you can feel the heat of his body off to the side, can hear his breathing—maybe even his heartbeat—and it’s making everything worse-
“I’m not going.”
“Dean, just, please-“
“No, I’m sick of you fucking ignoring me, and I- I don’t even care what’s going on with you and Sam-“
You frown. “Nothing’s going on with me and Sam-“
“I have eyes,” Dean sneers your name, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s almost wounded. “You were hugging in his room, you’re always fucking whispering and hanging out-“
“That’s not-“ You swallow, dragging your eyes open to find him glaring down at you. He looks wounded too. “It’s for a case.”
“What case? A case that I’m not allowed to know about? Because that’s not a case, sweetheart, that’s a secret-“
You almost throw up, just from that word. “It’s- I’m not keep any secrets, Dean, just please go-“
“No!” He’s almost shouting, and the sound is like a cannon into your gut. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you’re suddenly putting yourself in danger, and stuck to my brother, and you’re not talking to me anymore-“
“You’re not talking to me, Dean.” You whisper, his gaze burning you right down to the cavity of your chest. “I’m always in the library-“
“Yeah, I know, with Sam.” Dean scowls, and you’re too tired to think almost anything, but that’s strange. Dean never says Sam like that. Like it’s a horrible word. 
“It’s not a big deal,” you say, watching Dean carefully. “He’s helping me with something-“
“Something I can’t help you with?”
You blink, ready to lie and say no, but your mush of a brain doesn’t appear to be up to that task. “No.”
Dean’s brow furrows slightly. “So I could help you.”
“I-“ You feel a stab in your intestine, and your voice grows hoarse. “Please don’t ask me that.”
“Why-“
“Because I- Just go away, Dean-“
He shakes his head, saying your name in a stern, unwavering voice. “Could I help you-“
“N-“ You swallow a groan as your lungs contract, and this is dangerous. You’re too far gone to lie anymore, and that’s the only chance you have. If Dean keeps poking at you, you’ll tell the truth. You can’t tell the truth. “Please just leave me alone-“
“I’m not leaving you alone.” He snaps, dropping onto the side of your bed to prove his point. “You never left me alone, with the Mark-“
“That’s not-“ You can’t swallow your next sound of pain, or the whine that leaves your throat when Dean’s hand grabs your thigh. “Dean, please go-“
“Do you want me to go.”
“No.” You say it before you can think, and hate that the pain over your muscles lessens when Dean stays, and when his hand starts to rub slow circles. “But you- you have to-“
“I said I’m staying.” He grunts. “And you’re not changing my mind, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“I did.” You whisper, closing your eyes again. Looking at his handsome, annoyingly determined face isn’t helping anyone. “I’m sick.”
“Fine. What’s making you sick.”
“Curse.”
Fuck.
Dean’s silent for a long moment, then-
“What the fuck do you mean, curse.”
“Me.” You mumble. “Curse on me.”
“And how did a curse get on you-“
“Rowena.”
“That fucking bitch.” He mutters, and you feel his grip on you tighten slightly. Almost protectively. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“
That was probably a rhetorical question. Your sudden truth-telling streak doesn’t seem to care at all. “I was worried you’d hate me.”
“I- what?”
“I was worried-“
“I heard you,” he grunts. “I just, why the hell would you ever think I’d hate you-“
“Because I suck.” You whisper. “And I can’t- I don’t deserve you.”
Dean’s silent again. You wish he’d stop doing that. “You think you don’t deserve me?”
You nod, barely a movement at all, and Dean groans. You’re still not strong enough to look at him.
“Sweetheart, you- I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, his hand resuming his circles, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “I’m going to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. Got it?”
You hum. Like you’d even have a choice.
“What will cure the curse.”
“I need to,” you try to fight down the words, but you’re light-headed and faint and Dean’s hand is really warm, so you fail. “I need to resolve my deepest secret.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “What’s your deepest secret?”
You’re going to bite off your tongue. And when Dean says your name again, his voice a little rougher, it drags your eyes open to stare at him. Watching you with a focus you can feel in your bones, that’s prying the truth out of you, and he’s just looking at you and you can’t do this-
“Dean, I-“ You digs your nails into your skin, something flashes in his eyes, and you can’t look away. But you can’t stop yourself either, and if you have to watch Dean’s disgust, that might kill you right here. “Please turn around.”
He frowns. “What?”
“I need you to turn around.” You whisper. “Please.”
He nods slowly, twisting away from you, and it’s like a green light to your stupid, traitorous mouth. The words fall out of you like vomit, and if this is the end, at least it might be fast. 
“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop, and I love you. Only you. Just you. Can’t remember how to love anyone else, because I love you. I love your jokes and your grumpiness and how protective you are because you make me feel safe, and I love that you’re kind of a dork and a loser but you’re also so hot, I love your voice and your face and your hands, and I and I want you in a, um-“ You squeeze your thighs together, staring at the suddenly rapid rise and fall of Dean’s back. “A way that I shouldn’t talk about-“
“How do you want me.” He grunts, his voice low and a little gruff, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.
“On me.” You whisper. “In me. I want you on my face and in my hands and fuck, I want your inside of me. But I also want to wake up next to you and hold your hand and fall asleep in your lap, and fuck-“
You cut yourself off with a whine as something sharp hits your right in the heart, and Dean’s silent. He’s not turning around, or leaving, or doing anything but sitting and breathing for so long, for too long-
“You-“ He shakes his head slightly, and you could swear he’s leaning slightly backward. “You want me.”
“Yeah, I- yes.”
“You love me.”
“Yes.” Too late to go back now. “I love you, Dean.”
“Why- why didn’t you tell me?”
He sounds broken. He sounds sad.
You’re so confused. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain racking your whole body.
“I- I didn’t think you’d-“ Not care. Dean couldn’t not care. He cares too much. “I wasn’t sure what-“
“What I’d say?”
“What you’d do.”
“What would you-“ He’s definitely leaning back. He’s closer, too. “What would you want me to do?”
“What would I want?” 
Dean nods.
“I- it doesn’t matter-“
“Yes it-“ He sighs, twisting around to face you. You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s lost and it’s afraid and it’s… hopeful. There’s this small light that’s so deep in his eyes that seems like real, true hope. “Please,” he mutters your name, and you might be melting. “Just, entertain me. What would you want me to do?”
“I’d want to tell me you love me.” You whisper, and if this curse is going to kill you, you hope it does it now, right before you lose all your dignity forever. “Like I love you.”
Dean shakes his head slightly, and your heart might be splitting in half. “But I- I tried to kill you-“
“The demon tried to kill me. That wasn’t really you-“
“Yes, it was-“
“No.” Your voice gains a little strength, and you push up on your elbows. “You saved me, Dean. You rescued me from the angels-“
“Anyone would’ve done that-“
“But they didn’t.” You snap. “You did. And I don’t love anyone, I love you.”
“That’s-“ He groans, his voice growing hoarse. “You- why?”
“What do you mean, why-“
“Why would you love me? I mean, unless this is some sick, fucked up prank-“
“It’s not a prank-“
“Well why?” He shouts your name, and he looks distressed. Like this is shredding him apart. “Why the hell would you love me-“
“Because I like loving you.” You grab his hand, his own panic starting to set into your own body, making this all the worse. “It feels right. And I- I know you don’t love me-“
You’re not sure what’s happening. Dean’s hands are cupping your face, and his mouth is on yours, and he tastes like whiskey and coffee and pecan, and you feel okay. You really feel okay. All the pain and sickness is dissolving from your body, and Dean is kissing you. Kissing you with an unforgiving, demanding desperation, his tongue down your throat and his body lowering down over yours, pinning you to the bed as he groans against your lips.
The sound jumpstarts something in you. Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck right before he can pull away or hesitate, and you throw everything he’s silently offering you back to him. Biting on his lower lip and wrapping your legs around his torso, grinding up into him as he makes a deep, satisfied noise and moves one hand to wrap around you waist, holding you steady against him as he rises up, moving you to stay in his lap.
“You’re, shit.” Dean lets out a low chuckle, pressing a small, gentler kiss to the tip of your nose as you breathe in ragged time. “You’re such a fucking idiot, sweetheart.”
You lean back to frown at him. “No I’m not-“
“Yeah, you are. But I am too.” He sighs, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and speaking against your skin. “Seems like we’re made for each other, huh.”
“Dean, I-“
“Wait, just-“ Dean kisses up the column of your throat, ending right behind your ear, and his voice a low sound that falls right down into your core. “Gimme a second.”
“Dean-“
“Please,” he mutters, and when you pull back he looks nervous. It’s strange, but adorable, and you nod. He needs a second, you’ll give him a million. Anything to keep him here a little longer, to keep the ebb of the sickness going. 
“Okay.” You whisper, and—taking the biggest gamble of your life—lean forward to kiss him again. Just a light, almost innocent press of your lips to his. He tenses, his arms around you tightening, and you’d have panicked if it didn’t seem like he was clinging to you. Like he was afraid you were going to vanish. 
“I- uh,” Dean says your name slowly, and it’s odd. You’ve heard him say it exactly like that a million, but this feels deeper. Like a prayer. “I lo-“ He cuts himself off, his brow drawing tightly together, and you can feel your heart in your throat. Set to either explode or move into Dean as you hold your breath. “You. I- you- it’s- fuck.” He scowls, and you offer him your gentler smile, running a hand over the soft stubble on his jaw, even as you feel your blood start to go cold again.
“Dean, you don’t have to-“
“Yeah. I do, I-“ He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and speaking against them as if he’s trying to tell your body more than your mind. “I love you. A lot. So stop being cursed.”
You stare at him, your voice barely a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Did it work?”
It did. The curse seemed to vanish the moment Dean kissed you—like it knew that what he was trying to tell you before he even said it—but now the world is just color and light and Dean. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. He’s all genuine and powerful focus on you, and. worry that makes you feel warm, and love you can suddenly see everywhere on him. You don’t know how you missed it before, because it’s in his eyes and coating his lips and in every flex of his body around you. It would knock you down if he wasn’t holding you. 
“Yeah.” You smile at Dean, and his own mouth tugs up slightly. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He shrugs. “Any time. I, uh, sorry about getting pissed about you and Sam.“
“It’s fine, I-“ You paused, frowning at him. “Were you jealous?”
He scowls, his cheeks turning a little red. “Obviously.”
“Of Sam-“
“You were really close with him all the time.” Dean snaps. “And I- you seemed pissed at me, and super stressed, and usually you’d come to me for that stuff, but you were hugging Sam and talking to him instead of me-“
“Because I don’t love Sam. I love you, that’s why I told you-”
“I didn’t fucking know that.” He grumbles. “I- Sam doesn’t know everything about how I feel about you, but he knew enough, and I- I thought you were choosing him- And I- You’re not my girl but you felt like my girl and I didn’t-“
“Your girl?” Your face splits into a wide smile, and some of the tension seems to leave Dean as he nods. 
“Yeah. If you want.”
“Yes.” You squeak, and Dean’s hand starts to run slowly down your thigh. “Yes, please.”
“You sure?” He raises his brows, and it’s really hard to think when he’s so close, and this is suddenly overwhelmingly real. He’s really broad and warm against you, and he’s really touching you, and he said the thing but that doesn’t mean-
“Yeah, but are, are you sure-“
“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He drawls, and you swallow as he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. “And I’d be very happy to prove that.”
“Prove it?” You whisper, your eyes trapped onto his glimmering, darkened ones. “I, um, that, how-“
“However you’d like,” he says your name with a smirk, and it’s amazing how any all insecurity he had only a minute ago seems to have vanished. “You wanna tell me how’d you want me to prove it? Or do you need some suggestions?”
You might be drooling. “Suggestions, please.”
Dean hums, holding you carefully as he rises on his knees, bends you down onto the mattress, and starts to trace slow, taunting hands over your body.
“We could start slow,” he mutters, playing with the hem of your shorts, broad fingers brushing over your skin. “I could take my time with you, sweetheart. Do the proper thing, take you out to dinner and movie, wait until the third date to give you everything-“
“No!” You yelp. “Not slow-“
Dean’s hand slides under your shorts, his palm resting right over your already sore pussy, and he chuckles at your high gasp. 
“Alright, baby, not slow.” He leans down to pull you into a long, slow kiss, smirking against your lips as you start to grind into his hand. “But we’re going on a date. I’ve had years to plan it, wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”
You nod a little stupidly, your nails digging into his arm braced near your head. “How- what do you mean years-“
“You’re not the only one who had that at first sight thing.” Dean mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost sleep over you, baby girl. We’re going to do this right, no witches involved, but,” he drops his head to kiss right behind your ear, humming as a high moan escapes your lips. “I’ve got a million things I want to do you, and fuck me if I’m going waste time not doing them.”
“Yeah, good, do that-“ You gasp as Dean’s thumb finds your clothed clit, starting to draw firm, fast circles around it. “Shit, Dean-“
“That’s my name.” He growls in your ear, flicking against you and smirking at your high whine. “C’mon, sweetheart gotta get you ready for me-“
“I, I’m ready-“
He chuckles. “No, you’re not. Wanna make you feel good, not break you.”
“What if, fuck-“ You feel a brief, sharp moment of cold air as Dean pulls your shorts and panties down, shoving two fingers into your cunt. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s studying your every hitched breath and blurred gaze, smirking as he begins to slowly move inside of you, scissoring and crooking and pushing in deeper every time-
“What if what, pretty girl?” He teases, his pace increasing slightly. “Use your words.”
Your back arches off the bed as Dean re-angles his hand, pressing his palm to your clit and starting to rub strong, sharp circles as his fingers reach a blissful, almost painfully good pace, but remain too shallow to hit that sensitive spot deep your cunt and send you over the edge. “What if I want you to break me?” You gasp, your arm wrapping around his neck as he groans, dropping his brow against yours. “Please, Dean-“
“You, fuck-“ He grunts your name, and you feel something prodding at your inner thigh. “Not now, baby, need to be gentle-“
“No you don’t-“
“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s movements still as he rises on his knees over you, and you’re pretty certain the authoritative thing is supposed to be stern and intimidating, but it’s mostly just making you grind on his hand and reach up for him pathetically.
“Dean-“
“Listen to me.” He snaps, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress, sighing as you moan again, squeezing around his fingers, still in your cunt. “Fuck, you nearly just died-“
“I’m okay now.” You whisper. “I feel great. I feel, fuck Dean, I feel so good-“
He hisses as you spread your legs, writhing on the bed for anything, at this point you’ll take anything Dean offers you-
“Fuck yeah, you do.” He mutters, his fingers starting to pump slowly again, scanning over your body with an almost awestruck expression. “Bet you feel like heaven, baby girl, but we need to go slow. I promise I can wreck you later, but today-“
“Slow.” You sigh, and he nods.
“Slow. But,” Dean’s free hand starts to trail under your shirt, palming at your breasts, rolling your nipples between calloused, strong fingers. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy, still going to get you fucking cockdrunk. Okay?”
You nod, your eyes slightly glazed over, and Dean bends his fingers deep inside you, right one that spot, letting out a low gasp as you whine.
“Say okay, sweetheart.” He grunts, his hand moving from your breast, over your neck, to your mouth, pressing his thumb on your lower lip until it parts. You moan against him, your eyes fluttering slightly, and you’re already too high, too needy, to do anything but listen.
“Okay.”
“Good girl.” He coos, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips, his nostrils flaring when you start to suck on him with an abandon. “Fuck, so good, I can’t wait to ruin you, baby, you’re never gonna even think about another cock-“
You haven’t thought about another cock in years, and you haven’t even seen it yet. But Dean’s thumb is bumping the back of your throat, so all you can do is moan, give him your best pleading look, and let your head fall back as Dean’s fingers finally move inside of you, pushing and playing on the spot until your orgasm washes over you in bright waves of good. So good. Just, fuck, he’s good-
Dean’s thumb pulls out of your mouth with a pop, and he wipes a little bit of spit off on your upper lip before lowering his mouth to yours, this kiss far too soft and gentle for how you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you now.
“Look so pretty, cumming on my hand.” Dean moves to the shell of your ear, his growling promise sending a shiver up your spine. “Bet you’ll look prettier fucking squeezing my cock.”
You barely have time to whimper when Dean yanks his fingers out of your cunt, rolls you over so you’re straddling his torso, and raises you up by your hips before pushing you right down onto his dick. You don’t even remember when he took off his pants, or where your shirt went, but those are worries for someone who isn’t being split open on Dean’s cock. Who doesn’t have him drawing small circles on their inner thigh, or isn’t being held up by his hand on their waist.
But you do. You have Dean everywhere, real and warm under your hands as you grip his shoulders, bumping deep against your cervix as he lets you adjust to the size of him, one broad finger reaching down to press—light and taunting—on your clit, and groaning as you squeeze around him.
“Shit,” Dean grunts your name, looking up at you under hooded eyes in a way you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you before. As if you’re somewhere they’d always expected to be, and they’re still in awe that you’re there. “Gotta be careful, want this to-“
Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you grind on him experientially, clenching again as he hits that electric spot deep inside you. He grabs you firm by your hips, stilling your every movement as he gives you a stern glower. 
“You need to listen.” His voice is gravely and lower than you’ve ever heard it, and you’d do whatever he told you to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t whine and scratch lightly at his chest. 
“Dean, move-“
“You gonna listen?”
“Yes, just, fuck-“ You gasp as he pulls you up with barely a grunt, slamming your right back down with a roll of your hips. 
“Want you to feel good, baby girl, but you need to be careful,” Dean drags one had down to squeeze your ass, his hand still on your waist drawing light circles around your clit. “Or next time might be more than wrecking.”
Your moan is vulgar and shameless, and you’re more than ready to devote sleep to figuring out what more than wrecking will look like, but right now you just fucking need this. 
“Need more, Dean,” you whisper. “Need it so bad-“
“I know, sweetheart.” He mutters, trailing his hand up your stomach to squeeze your breast, groaning when you squirm around him. “Think you’re ready to ride this cock? Think you can handle, shit-“
You’d stared to move the movement he’d said ride, rolling your body and arching your back, dragging every bit of confidence you have to grind down onto Dean’s cock, your nails sinking into his abdomen.
“Fuck, yeah.” Dean’s voice is a breath under you, and when you scan over him, he lookslike he’sa little wrecked himself.His eyes on yours are hooded and low, his voice dripping with that same dominating confidence, but something more delicate in the way he’s touching you. Not as if he’s afraid to break you, but afraid you’ll shatter him. 
And you did that. You wrecked Dean. And that lights a wildfire in your gut, running through your nerves until they’re sensitive and bare, and into your brain until it’s all just Dean.
You start to move. Slowly at first to test the waters, but—when Dean just groans and ruts up into you—quickly picking up pace until you’re bouncing on Dean’s cock, your thighs squeezing his torso and your clit rubbing on his abdomen, his ever grunt and hiss and bruising grip just making your need grow bigger as you slam him onto that deep spot-
“Shit, I’m- Slow down-“ 
Dean’s hiss is low, and you immediately obey, changing to long, slow movements as Dean hums. 
“There you go baby, such a good girl.” His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, rubbing soothing patterns as he praises you. “You’re so hot baby, fucking ruined on my cock-“
You make a high, breathless sound you don’t recognize, moving your hips in a circle to try and chase more friction, and Dean chuckles.
“You alright up there-“
“Good,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut to try and focus your all on Dean beneath you. “So good, Dean, feels so good-“
“Need a little more?”
“Yes-“
“More descriptive than that, sweet girl.” He teases, and when this is done, you’re going to kill him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to-“
“You,” the word falls out without thought, because most of you belongs to Dean. “Just you, only need you-“
“You love me?” Dean’s voice is low, and when you open your eyes to look at him, there’s a small chink in his armor. You don’t know if you pried it open, or if you’ve just never noticed, but you can see right into him, and he still doesn’t really believe that you love him.
And that’s the only thing you’ve ever really know. You loving Dean has been the only truly certain thing in your life, because Dean’s a given and loving him feels like breathing.
So you smile at him, reaching forward to cup his face, and tell him with everything you have, hoping he can hear how the words are in time with your heart.
“I love you,” you whisper. “And I’m yours.”
He blinks at you, shaking his head slightly even as his dick twitches inside you. “You don’t need to be, it’s- you know, dirty talk-“
“I know.” You shrug. “I’m still yours.”
Dean’s nostrils flare, and you know you’re not getting control back from him for the rest of the night.
You’re fine with that. Dean starts to rock you back and forth around him, letting you just fall into and around him, and your lost to any world that isn’t Dean. Isn’t his hand splayed on your lower back or his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and ass. Anything that isn’t his cock hitting part of you that you didn’t know existed and filling you up so much you’re not sure how you’re ever going to manage being empty again.
You don’t think you will have to manage. Dean’s holding you like he’s trying to brand himself on your body, like he needs you feel him for the rest of your life. And you will. You’ll feel the bliss Dean’s drawing from your body that’s better than any heaven you could have imagined, rising slowing below the surface, ready to burst at any moment.
You’ll hear him too. Hear every deep noise of his own pleasure, hear the slapping of his skin on yours, hear his low praise echo around your head and ribs for the rest of your life.
“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest and rolling right into your pussy, making you throw your head back with a breathy whimper. “Fuck, you’re so hot riding me, feel so good around me, tight and warm-“
Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you reach behind your body, your hand finding his balls to squeeze lightly. 
“Goddamnit, sweetheart-“ He groans, jerking slightly inside of you. “Fuck, keep doing that, so fucking needy for me, fucking soaking this cock-“
You grind around him, and his pace starts to lose rhythm. Even after he swats your hand away you know he’s lost his own self-control, and fuck he looks hot without it. Starting to rut up into you in uncontrolled movements, pulling you to pieces with a lustful, ardorous gaze and brutal pace and strong hands, moving back to your clit and rolling it between his fingers-
Your mouth falls open in a silent, needy cry of pleasure as your orgasm bursts over you. It’s not sudden, but you couldn’t never anticipated the power of it—like someone had doused you in gasoline that smells like whiskey and fruit, lit a match, and turned to into a star—or how it rides on and on, never seeming to crest or crash as Dean slams home inside of you, warmth coating your pussy and running down your thighs as he moans your name. 
Dean helps you float down to earth, leaving careful, deliberate touches on your skin and humming as his knees rising up to support you. You watch his gaze rakes down your body, lingering on where he can see himself spill out of your pussy, and moves to slowly drag through the mess, gathering some on two fingers before rising them up to your mouth. You open without hesitation and his throat bobs, his cock twitching inside you as you lick his release off his hand, your eyes never leaving his wide, reverent one.
“Son of a bitch.” He mutters. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”
You let out a soft laugh. “You stole my line.”
“Nah.” He shrugs, tracing a hand over your cheek. “You could have anyone you want, baby, but you’re here, with an asshole like me-“
“You’re not an asshole.”
“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs, like you can’t see how his own words pierce him through that chink. “Shit, I just accused you of sleeping with Sam-“
“And I’ve been lying to you for years.” You lean down, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your widest smile. “Neither of us are saints, Dean. And I happen to be the right kind of fucked up to let possessiveness hot.” You pause, giving him your best stern glare. “To a degree. I will slap you the next time you accuse me of fucking Sam.” 
Dean laughs, his around wrapped—gentle and relaxed—around you. “Yes, ma’am.”
You hum, resting your head to the side, and you might be here for a hundred years. Time blurs and slows until it’s just Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, his thumb tracing a pattern on your arm, and his face buried in your hair. The end of the world might have already come to pass when his hand moves to your chin and he angles your gaze to his, and you wouldn’t really care. You’re still where you need to be.
“Would you,” he lets out a slow breath, all his cocky arrogance gone, his eyes on yours nervous. The hope is back, but it’s wrapped in soft fear. “I’m not good at- shit-“
He’s going to hurt himself, and you take pity on him. You lean does to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue trail over his lips, and rising back up with a small smile.
“Can we go on a date, Dean?” 
He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby girl.”
Your smile strains at your cheeks, because you only want Dean. 
And you’ll have to write Rowena a thank you note, because you finally have him.
End Note: Me make a story with no prior lore challenge: impossible
If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3
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xomakara · 1 month ago
Text
Can't Help Myself
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SUMMARY |  Mingi comes home early from a trip to find his best friend's older sister, you, roaming the apartment in a large shirt and panties. And god, does he want you.
PAIRINGS | Mingi x Reader
RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked
GENRE |  smut, roommate!Mingi, brother's best friend trope, older woman/younger man trope, non-idol au
CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, filthy dirty thoughts, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male/female receiving/giving), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, vaginal penetration, kitchen sex, creampie, squirting
LENGTH | 5,744 words
TAGLIST |  ---
NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @wonderlandnet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork
AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Hi. Hello. This was supposed to be 2-3K words but it ended up longer. It's literally just smut lolol. And those Mingi pics for CK? geezes. Hope you all love and enjoy this. Love you ❤️
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In your defense, you thought you were home alone so you didn’t second guess your wardrobe choice before walking out of your room and into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for a snack. You really should have made sure first though.
You didn’t think much of it when your younger brother Yunho asked if you wanted to get a place with him and his best friend. It was a little more spacious, a lot nicer than your dorm room on campus, and still close enough for you to go to and from school and work easily. You knew Mingi, Yunho's best friend, forever, but when you told your parents they had suggested you take precautions. Mingi may have been a family friend of sorts but he was still male and he would be living there.
Both you and your brother dismissed their worries completely, assuring them Mingi had been like a younger brother, despite the year age gap, growing up and you could count the amount of times you ever heard him say anything even remotely perverted or gross to be none. But despite all this, you all still made a pact with your respective members of the household that your individual bedrooms were to stay firmly shut at all times and privacy would be respected and vice versa.
Earlier that week, Yunho said that he and Mingi would be going on a trip, somewhere with a bunch of their other friends, while the weather was still good. It would have been a trip you would have taken too, but you couldn't. School and work kept you here. You figured you would just catch up with everyone when they came back home.
They left a few days ago, leaving with a loud goodbye before you gave yourself the all-clear, allowing your usual messy, comfortable sleepwear to take over. It was going to be a relaxing day at home with no one there to scold you and you were going to do as you pleased.
Fast forward a few days later and you’re now standing in front of a confused Mingi, wearing nothing more than an oversized t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and boy-short panties, leaving very little to the imagination.
Both of your arms are frozen, neither able to speak as you meet each other's gazes, Mingi's eyes darted lower as your arms come down in a sudden jerk to shield your exposed form from his eyes. His stare doesn't falter, but rather it hardens, taking everything that he can, burning the image into his brain.
This is Mingi, the family friend who played games with you and shared candies when you were younger. He was the same Mingi you would tease mercilessly as children before asking him, not so secretly, for advice about how to date a guy. This is the same Mingi you danced next to in the living room until both of you became nauseous because your moves had you spinning and twisting faster and faster. And it's the same Mingi you watched slam several cups of beer down like it was water during house parties like it was nothing. He had a bit of a track record for picking up girls with ease, the kind of guy girls looked up to and talked about dreamily whenever they thought no one could hear them.
Sure you had a silly crush on him growing up but you knew Mingi didn't think of you in that way. He treated you like an older sister and it showed. An older sibling was all he was likely to ever see.
But here and now, with the look Mingi is giving you, that all seems to go right out the window. If you thought his stare was hot when it was at eye level, there was no word that could come close to explaining how the scorching temperature went up even more in the downward, suggestive direction his stare had shifted.
For a moment you think you hear a hushed, muffled grunt come out of him, but it's gone as soon as it appears.
"M-mingi?" you mutter, clearing your throat a little. "What are you doing back so early?"
Mingi's expression doesn't change, if anything it seems to darken even more and if it was possible, you are sure he is undressing you even more with his eyes than before.
"Oh, uh...hi, noona. I had to leave early due to work," he says slowly.
You wait for more information, an explanation, something but he doesn't give one.
"... and?" You encourage and your response is an almost devilish-looking smirk. It has a strangely charming effect on you, but at the same time is enough to cause heat to flow through you, settling and concentrating at one very specific spot. You've never seen him look at someone like the way he's staring at you and you are surprised you didn't get caught on fire.
His eyes flick up and down your form slowly once more before locking on yours again and he stands up straight from the door. "It doesn't matter. I'm back now."
Damn. Now you had to go back to being dressed while stuck in the house alone for who knew how long.
"U-uh... okay? Alright, um," you swallow and squirm uncomfortably under Mingi's steady gaze, hoping he doesn't hear the way the breath catches in your throat. "I'm gonna go get dressed."
You wait, feeling incredibly awkward as he watches you without moving, but finally, after a moment Mingi turns and goes in the direction of his bedroom.
“Y/N-noona?” You hear him call out to you as you move away, feet already in motion toward the safety of your bedroom.
“Yeah?” you reply.
He leans against his bedroom doorway and sends a mischievous, somewhat predatory grin at you, causing your entire body to tingle at his intentions.
"You don’t have to cover up if you don’t want to. It’s not fair to you if Yunho and I get to walk around the place shirtless and you don’t. I won’t tell Yunho." he says simply before stepping into his bedroom and closing the door with a soft click.
You let out a deep exhale the moment you shut your bedroom door behind you, pulling a hand up to rest on your chest, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. Your knees felt weak and suddenly the image of Mingi had burned itself so deeply into the back of your lids that every time you closed your eyes, the image of Mingi smirking darkly at you made its appearance, causing a fire to flare up in you.
With a shaky but needy whimper, you find yourself falling into a heap on your bed. You rest a hand flat on your stomach, allowing your mind to fill with images of Mingi, remembering the feeling of his hard, broad shoulders from the hugs you would receive, his defined arms that seemed to give you comfort the times you got them wrapped around your form, and that confident, slightly cheeky smirk you had witnessed him sending at the female population several times.
You make sure the door is locked, not knowing whether you did it out of fear or need before the hand on your belly slowly slides down, fingertips gently ghosting along your lower belly, slowly heading for the cotton of your panties. They dipped below and you let out a tiny sigh at the touch of your hand between your legs. It was a tiny, delicate touch, yet it felt like sparks had erupted all over, tingling down your spine and in between your legs. Your teeth dug into the bottom lip hard in a bid to control your whines as one lone digit traced small circles, building you up.
It's not the first time you have pleasured yourself and had Mingi on your mind while doing it. You can't even count the many nights you spend laying in this very same position, imagining Mingi there. What his kisses would be like. The way his hands would glide along your body, causing you to arch into his touch, craving more contact from his body, while he pressed searing kisses all over your neck and chest, murmuring filthy words only the two of you could ever hear. 
What your mind is occupied with as your hips squirm a little are all the different scenarios you can think of. At first, your movements are small, just small pushes and rolls of your hips against your fingertips. You find yourself wondering what Mingi's hands would be like. How rough would he be or would he want to savor your body, lavishing the soft curves of your body with gentle touch, kisses, and teasing bites until he got closer to where you needed him? Would he be dirty? Would his words be enough to make you blush with his raw, sexual cravings? 
The sounds, oh the sounds he could draw from you.
Your breath hitches when the tiny moans coming from you make their way up and out of your lips and as good as this feels it's still not enough for you. Your imagination runs wild. The Mingi in your mind is taking control now, turning you around, the deft hands moving to knead your breasts, a warm, wet tongue swiping up the back of your neck, moving up until a hot mouth sucked, grazing your earlobe with his teeth.
And when the imaginary feeling of Mingi biting you while one hand trailed down the planes of your body before slipping beneath and your fingers move exactly the way you are fantasizing his hands were, in this situation, you find yourself burying your face in the sheets, doing your best to muffle all the noise coming from you.
One, two, three curling fingers are all it takes, and you have brought yourself to the peak already, the fire inside you burning, scorching even. The small coiling heat within your belly unraveled and you bit your pillowcase as hard as you could, hoping the soft fabric of your bed would block out all of your noises.
As soon as the fire dies out the heaviness of your eyelids overtakes you and it's a struggle to pull off the shirt you wore and slip beneath the blankets. As soon as you're settled though, the comfort and warmth of the bed sheets caused you to fall into a deep slumber. You dream of Mingi, thinking about those fantasies but you aren't waking up anytime soon.
Little did you know that Mingi was dreaming of you, trying to relieve his own arousal.
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The next day, you wandered into the living room, this time in lace panties and a scantily thin tank top. Your feet pad slowly on the hardwood flooring of the apartment. A small groan came out of you as your feet padded into the kitchen area, your hair a mess, eyes heavy with sleep and your hands worked on the buttons of the small coffee machine to make yourself something to wake up with.
"Oh, Y/N-noona..."
You jumped, yelping, spinning to see Mingi leaning against the wall, his shirt hanging open, his usual black jeans hanging low on his hips, and his brand-name briefs sticking out above them. He was half grinning, eyes trailing your half-naked form before a smirk tugged on his lips.
"Don't mind me. Keep doing what you were doing," he walked towards the kitchen island to grab a cup for himself, not bothering to close his shirt at all.
You stared at him, suddenly unable to form words, only watching him and swallowing heavily as you eyed him up and down shamelessly. How many mornings have you woken to the same view as today? Yes, Mingi walking around shirtless was not uncommon, and yes, you've always tried to not focus too much on the planes and ridges of the muscles. You stood there, your fingers drumming along the counter, unable to turn away and ignoring the burning at the back of your neck as he turned around to face you, meeting your gaze head-on as you met his gaze.
For what seems like hours it's just you standing in front of Mingi, letting his gaze slide over the whole length of your body as you both stand motionless. You finally seem to break and turn around to do the task of preparing yourself some coffee. You are close, so close. The water drips into the little mug and then a shadow envelopes you from behind, heat spreading across your backside, something heavy against your ass.
Instantly you stiffen and turn your head to see Mingi has moved in close behind you, so close that you can feel his warmth and breathe on your neck.
He wasn't touching you, he was holding himself still, and in the beginning, you are unable to detect whether he is purposely pressed up against you or if his tall body is only bent at such an angle that it leaves your butt right underneath him.
When his hands grip the counter at either side of you, your attention focuses on his hold, noting his position is to have the two of you locked into place and that's when you realize how serious Mingi is with his intentions. He hasn't said anything and neither have you, the only sounds that have left the pair of you are your short gasps and sharp intakes of air.
When he rests his chin on your shoulder, the intimate pose has the effects of a powerful drug and your knees go weak. One long breath enters through your parted lips before his hips press into yours and there was no mistaking Mingi's arousal against your back, how stiff and prominent he was. His body is locked into position and there's no escaping.
But do you want to?
"Tell me to leave, and I'll leave," his voice rumbles low with a husky edge to his tone. "Now's your chance."
It's a challenge, a clear dare like he knows full well you don't want him to leave, even though he offers the option to. It's just a question. 
You decide now.
Your eyes drift down. You know that underneath that expensive-looking underwear and his tight, dark-wash jeans, the cock pressing into you is everything you've ever desired. A muscle twitches under the touch of a hand. Another tense, loud swallow, and you manage to glance to your side.
"Mingi?" you breathed out softly, your words barely above a whisper, so silent that the thrumming of blood in your ears was almost overshadowing your words.
"Hmm?" Mingi answered, turning his head a little, his face now mere millimeters away, and the anticipation you feel makes your stomach flip. Your thoughts are clear. The vision in your mind is real. Your senses are acute, and more sensitive than ever. But for whatever reason, words refuse to come to you. It was one of those moments of wanting to speak, knowing what needed to be said but it was a struggle.
Your lashes flutter and before you know it, your lips capture his.
A low groan vibrated in his chest the instant your mouth came into contact, his eyes sliding shut and arms snaked around your middle, pressing you completely back into him. The hand by your hip clutched you as you turned in his hold and pressed your chest fully into his, fingers sliding into his hair.
The feeling of being up against him like this is sending every single part of you into a heightened state and everything he touches sets your skin on fire. It's a tight embrace and when he lifts you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter you immediately wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him as close to you as possible.
Mingi pulls your head back, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You bite down on his bottom lip and his hands roam every single part of you and every curve your body can offer him. The second he pulls away, a single whine leaves you, already missing him, but at the sight of the look in his eyes, all coherent thoughts go out of your head. You stare up at Mingi who is just looking at you with a glint of smugness in his eye that tells you the guy knows what he's doing to you.
"Want to know something, Y/N-noona?" His deep raspy voice has you staring intently into his eyes as his hands glide down and cup your butt, squeezing the plump globes.
"Uh-huh," is your dazed response, followed by a deep breath. The sudden change in Mingi from a moment ago was impressive and honestly sexy. You swallow, staring into his eyes, the tiniest bit of hesitation, nervousness, and anticipation fluttering around in your belly.
"I've been in love with you since I was fourteen," he mutters, staring at you intently, his hands coming around and grasping the edge of your lace panties. "I stopped thinking of you as an older sister. And then every time I look at you, or think about you, my imagination runs wild and sometimes I can't help myself."
And with that his thumbs dip past the lace, stroking the tender skin there.
"O-oh," you bite your lip and curl your fingers, your mind swirling, intoxicated by the desire in his voice and his eyes. His fingers are still moving and Mingi moves forward, closing the gap between you two, lips pressing into the corner of your mouth as your hands come up, resting on the sculpted pecs that send every thought flying from your head. "Thank god because I've had a huge crush on you for a damn long time, Song Mingi."
Mingi let out an amused chuckle, before giving you a heated look, and the next time he pressed his mouth against yours he was no longer timid and gentle. He is more confident and aggressive, more demanding of what he wants, but you welcome it, giving him exactly what he was asking for, not having the will nor strength in you to push him away.
"Tell me where you want me," he says in between breathy pants against your lips, kissing you once more and his tongue slides into your mouth, reaching for every nook, wanting to be inside you in some way.
His actions, his hands stroking, his kiss, his scent surrounding you...everything has your senses, all of them, overwhelmed and your fingers tighten into his hair, a desperate sound escaping you.
"Fuck Mingi...I need you to eat me out," your words make Mingi give a low groan in the back of his throat.
You barely had a moment to catch a breath before his face disappeared downwards, your thighs resting on his shoulders. Mingi pushed the sheer material of your underwear to one side and slid a finger between your wet lips and let out a moan that sent an electric surge throughout you when he touched your aching clit.
You gasped and squirmed and his name left your lips. You're not quite sure whether your gasps were out of embarrassment or how good he feels but the moment you feel Mingi's tongue stroke against you, all thoughts are replaced by pleasure.
"F-fuck, Mingi" you breathed out shakily.
Mingi's lips curled into a smile, making a 'hmm' sound deep in his throat. Every vibration from that only makes you squirm against his lips and the things he was doing to you, his lips and tongue licking you out like you were his favorite flavor, like he wanted nothing more than to have you all to himself. Your moans were the icing on the cake, rewarding him further as you pushed yourself against him and had no other option but to clutch at his hair and beg.
All sorts of needy words and noises fell from your lips as you closed your legs, trapping him between them, and pulled his face deeper into you as Mingi alternated between licking and suckling you. He continued to kiss and suck on you, pressing his lips flat, open, and covering every bit of exposed skin. Your moans had only gotten louder and needier as you felt your release beginning to build up, getting closer and closer to the edge.
Suddenly Mingi stops and the next thing you know, you're thrown over his shoulders, his strong arms gripping the backs of your thighs firmly and keeping you secure. He threw a cheeky grin your way before carrying you off to his bedroom, using one arm to shut the door behind him before dumping you unceremoniously onto his large, soft bed.
The bed itself was so soft you sunk in a little, his silk, blue-colored bed sheets smoothing the action. This wasn't the first time you were in his bedroom, having gone in and borrowed games or clothes that had been left there. 
But this was the first time being in his bed.
"You look really good laying in my bed, noona. You look like you fit right in this spot," he chuckled deeply. "Let's see if we can make this scene look even better."
He pinned you on the bed and captured his lips to yours and your back arched at how amazing the weight of his body was on top of yours. Maybe it was because Mingi was very tall but laying on his bed, with his body pushing you into it felt nice. Not the sensation of being forced down, but the kind of nice where Mingi's scent, his body, everything just melted you.
A moan ripped through your body when his hands palmed you through your thin tank top. They traced every contour they could find.
"Shit," the man hissed. "You've got great tits."
His thumbs swiped back and forth over your nipples and it took less than ten seconds of the combined work of Mingi's mouth and fingers to turn you into a trembling, pleading mess. Mingi licked his lips and then he slid his fingers down to play with the elastic of your lace panties, the back of his fingers brushing lightly over your soft skin and the smirk never left his face.
"Mingi...can I... can I please suck you off?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest, heat bloomed all over your entire body and his face was suddenly pulled into a huge, teasing grin as he crawled up towards the head of the bed.
"You wanna taste it, noona?" He asked. "Go ahead then. Show me what you can do with that pretty mouth."
Your eyes couldn't look away from Mingi's as you moved slowly on your knees to follow him as he sat himself against the headboard of his bed. Without hesitation, your fingertips moved to push aside his undone shirt, exposing more of his bare chest. Leaning down to kiss his torso, his abs contracted while he sucked air in. When your lips met the elastic band of his briefs, you looked up and his eyes were completely focused on yours.
"Noona..." he breathed softly, licking his lips at the sight of your doe-like eyes staring up at him. "Look at you. Take what you want, noona. Do what you need. Use my cock as your plaything, doll."
Fuck. He's driving you crazy. 
The thought of having him like this has been a fantasy of yours, not that you had admitted it to yourself until just now, but your dreams are now becoming a reality. You slipped his briefs down, just enough to free him, letting out a hum in satisfaction.
"All for you, noona," Mingi kicked his pants and briefs off, smirking as he spread his legs out for you, wanting you to get closer.
God, Mingi was gorgeous. Not just because of his features but because he had the personality of an amazing man who made his way into the hearts and minds of everyone who met him. And with a body like that, well... who could resist him? No one you know.
Wasting no time, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, your tongue starting the journey from the thickest section and licking a path from root to tip, sucking his crown between your lips. Your mouth enveloped the first few inches and you hummed when you were rewarded with a low grunt that told you everything your touch was doing for him was satisfactory.
"Noona. What the...how are you...so...good...?" he was at a loss for words, Mingi's sentence left in broken segments when his tongue got tangled. His reaction, however, was music to your ears. He tried to sound put-together, calm, and collected, yet his grunts and groans weren't lost on your ears as you worked him.
He was thick and hard in your hand, growing harder and longer with every bobbing motion your mouth did along his length. There wasn't anything better to hear than the man's own low, heavy groans when you tried deep-throating him or your name whimpered as a low, almost chant when your pace increased. His head dropped back onto the pillows. He was able to just relax and watch, one hand curling softly into your hair.
"You like it, Mingi? My hot, wet mouth on you? You like watching your big dick disappear in my mouth, babe?" you asked.
"So, you do have a dirty side to you, huh?" His low chuckles send pleasant shivers up your spine and cause heat to coil within your abdomen once again. "Fuck, noona...you're so fucking sexy right now. How the fuck can anyone expect me to act sane in front of you? You look so good sucking me like that. Look at me while you're sucking, Y/N-noona."
"You know...I've always fantasized about taking your cock deep in my mouth," you whispered seductively. His eyes met your gaze, watching as you bent and gave the head of his cock a delicate swirl with your tongue.
"Really, now? What else has my naughty Y/N-noona fantasized about, huh?" Mingi's eyes closed and let the bliss that was his imagination take over, biting his lip with a sexy smirk and looking delicious with how laidback he was.
"Mm, many things," you sucked him into the hot cavern of your mouth. You watched Mingi's chest as it rose and fell. "You fucking me, your cock splitting me open. Stuffing me with your cum. Marking me as yours."
With Mingi's eyes half-lidded, his groans are louder, deeper, and longer. The strokes and motions from your mouth bring him to the edge.
"Are you a squirter?" he asked, his eyes peering down, meeting your gaze again. He looks mischievous, and his tone dripped with lust and suggestion. His head tips back, his hips thrust forward as a deep, rumbling growl tore from his throat.
"Why don't you find out? If you think your cock can make me scream loud enough to squirt all over it," you challenged, one eyebrow raised up at him.
"Challenge accepted, noona," his lips twitched upwards in a lascivious smirk and that is when he sat himself up. Gripping the back of your head gently, he was very clear in his instructions. "Now open wide. Be a good noona, and make sure you swallow everything."
Obedient, you did as he asked, parting your lips and ready to taste every drop Mingi offered you, taking it like the good girl you wanted to be for him. And when it finally happened, the salty tang burst against your taste buds, Mingi growling your name and encouraging you to take everything.
"Come here, sweet thing," he growled, reaching out and grasping at the backs of your thighs, pulling them apart until you straddled him. He tugged your panties to the side before lowering you onto his erect cock, slowly so you could adjust to him. "Damn, you look so sexy with your panties pushed aside and stuffed full of me."
Settling yourself on his lap and stuffed full to the hilt, you grabbed the edge of your tank top and lifted it over your head, throwing it somewhere in his room. Mingi groaned at the sight of your fully naked upper body on display to him and he quickly busied himself by reaching out to run his fingertips over your nipples, making you arch into him, gasping at the feeling and your breathing erratic.
You grabbed the headboard of the bed. "Wanna bounce on your cock, Mingi."
His hips instantly jerked against you at those words, groaning as you slowly rolled your hips to get a feel for the movement before finding the speed and rhythm he liked, panting heavily when his head went up so he could focus his attention on your breasts bouncing and his name leaving your lips. Mingi held a strong grip on your sides to help steady your body before you felt his long tongue flick one nipple before wrapping his lips around it.
You were pushing his open shirt off his body so that you could finally admire how beautiful Mingi's body is, so fit and muscular and he let out a happy sound at how eagerly you were trying to touch every inch of him that's exposed to you, how willing he is to let you do as you wish.
"Look at you taking every inch so perfectly," his voice rumbles deeply, almost in a groan. His fingers trailed lightly up your chest, gently cupping your cheek. The tender gesture only lasted mere moments as you began to roll your hips harder, bouncing faster, moving around him, going in circles, grinding up against him. "You like how big my cock is, Y/N? Like the feel of the my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does my cock hit just the right place?"
"M-mingi..." you squeaked. He feels so thick, so full, all of it deliciously stretching and opening your wet core in ways you didn't know you needed until now.
He takes you without the need of force, every touch and movement filled with patience, and his groans are husk and raspy and deep, and you keep wondering how someone can even be so vocal. Everything Mingi did had you panting for more, pushing for more.
"Love you, Y/N-noona," the male growled, digging his nails slightly into your thighs before letting his palms glide upward and rest on your ass, squeezing and spreading you apart to give him a full view of you. His breathing was quick and his muscles tense. The room was filled with the scent of sex, both of your heavy pants mingling in the air around you as sweat began to glisten both of you.
“Love you too,” you moaned.
Your fingers brushed the top of his shoulders, trailing upwards and into the silky, damp strands of his black locks as you bucked your hips in response, giving him even more depth in your tight core. Mingi continued to gyrate upwards, keeping up the relentless pace you set. He let out an airy groan every few minutes. His body arched towards you. His grunts were desperate, more guttural.
"Fuck, noona," he groaned. "I could watch you ride me for a lifetime."
"M-mingi," you whimpered, letting out a noise when he squeezed your ass cheeks before he dragged a long lick up the valley between your breasts and flicked one pert bud.
"Look at us baby...so good together," Mingi crooned, taking one of your hands and bringing it down to the apex of your bodies, so your fingers brushed against the part where you joined. "Touch yourself, sweet girl. I want us to cum together."
Doing what you were told, you began to rub tight, frantic circles around your clit, and after only a few strokes, a tingle zinged through your pelvis.
"Fuck..." you whimpered, squinting your eyes shut, feeling the knot of pleasure unfurl. “Mingi, I’m going to cum soon.”
"Cum for me," Mingi urged. "Wanna see you fall apart around me."
He gripped your ass and guided you until it was only the head that was left inside you and his deep grunts increased as he slammed back up into your dripping core, deep strokes in and out of you, hitting the perfect place at each stroke. The familiar tightening in your belly returned, growing stronger, building towards an immense climax. Your walls constrict around him, the man moaning with you at how good you feel when he hits his release, coating your walls white.
"F-fuck! Oh shit, oh my god," you yelped, unable to resist, coming undone, squirting all over him as you'd teased and promised, screaming his name loud and unabashed, squeezing him tight, your arms clasping around Mingi's neck. He lets out a husky, broken laugh before collapsing back, dragging you down with him.
"I never would have guessed," Mingi mused breathlessly, stroking the underside of his spent cock while you came back to earth, "That you were a squirter, Y/N-noona. Of all the other surprises about you tonight."
A laugh, somewhere between exhausted and relieved bubbled out of you. "You...are so fucking amazing, Song Mingi."
There is a smile in his voice as he replies. "It's nice hearing that, especially after the kind of mind-blowing sex I just experienced."
Another moment or two and you begin to shift. You wanted, no you had to, clean the mess you made all over Mingi's amazing abs. Moving as if trying to untangle yourself from the tall male. “God, I need to shower.”
"Nope. If you're going, then I'm going," he gave you a quick kiss before looking down at his mattress. "I need to change my sheets anyway. Can't sleep in this bed."
"Pity that," you let out a little laugh before turning into his warm, naked embrace. A blush forming across your cheeks when his hardened length brushes against you. "I was hoping for more."
He pushed your hair aside, your bare back becoming exposed to his dark gaze. Leaning down, he began nipping at your ear. "Maybe..." he began slowly, "We could, y'know, try it in the shower? Maybe in the kitchen, up against the wall... Your bed...?"
"Sounds...wonderful," you moaned softly. "Where do you want to start, big guy?"
His strong arms encircle your waist, his eyes heated with desire. "Wherever you want."
448 notes · View notes
azrielbrainrot · 3 months ago
Text
The Offering
Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader
Kinktober 2024: Knife Play
Description: Two spymasters of different courts get sent on the same mission. What could go wrong?
Warnings: Smut, knife play, a bit of blood, enemies to lovers, dirty talk
Word Count: ~3k
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
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People were filtering out of the banquet hall bit by bit, you almost wanted to sigh in relief, this had felt like the longest night. The corset was eating at your skin - it really shouldn't have been something you did by yourself, you tightened it far too much, - and the wine would have started getting to you if this night carried on much longer, something that you couldn't have let happen, especially with him here.
The Night Court's Spymaster had scarcely looked at you this whole time, pretty much ignoring your presence as your disguise called for, but even a quick glance was enough to make your skin burn. Maybe it wasn't such a good thing the banquet was ending, it meant you had to face him sooner. The thought makes you down the rest of your wine, drunken cheers erupting from the people around you.
Cozying up to rich and presumptuous nobles was unfortunately one of your strengths, you could talk almost anyone out of their secrets on nights like this, which is why Eris sent you here last minute, not wanting to lose ground on the Night Court.
You have been Eris' unofficial spy since before he had become High Lord, you considered him one of your closest friends really, and that's exactly why he had appointed you as his Spymaster when he took the throne. Over the years his and the Night Court's alliance had grown and shifted, never quite losing their initial animosity but working towards common goals. This meant you've had the displeasure of working with Azriel on multiple occasions.
Just as the last few attendants stand up, you mix in with the crowd, walking behind them for most of the way before turning a corner and disappearing from their sight, carefully making your way back to the banquet hall where the shadowsinger is waiting with his back turned to the door, powerful wings now on full display after being hidden behind a glamor.
As soon as you close the door, letting your exhausted body fall against it, he turns to you, hazel eyes dragging over your body untamed. You take this moment to study him as well. It will always take you by surprise how unbelievably beautiful this male was.
The two remaining candlesticks barely illuminated the room but Azriel always thrived in the dark. The dark blue suit he wore looked more expensive than anything you had ever seen him in, and Gods did it look downright sinful on him. He had to send his shadows away during dinner, but now they had returned, swirling around his form, making him look even more imposing. If you didn't know better you would have thought he was the High Lord of darkness himself.
Your eyes meet at last after studying each other's bodies and choices of attire, the tension in the room making you swallow as you struggle to fall back into your role as spymaster, your role as his reluctant ally from a court he had made quite obvious he despised with passion.
“I'm not sure how this alliance is supposed to prosper when you keep hiding things from us, shadowsinger,” you start, walking closer to the table in between you.
“I'm here on private Night Court business.” He tracks your movements, hazel eyes studying the way you hold onto the back of a chair as he continues, “It doesn't concern you.”
“Really? From what I gathered this affects the Autumn Court too.”
“It won't affect anyone if we stop them in time,” he dismissed you easily.
“They want to summon a God, Azriel,” you remind him, your glare sharpening.
“After I share all my findings with Rhysand I'm sure he will call a High Lord meeting and inform everyone accordingly.”
The more your mood soured, the more his shadows stretched out towards you, braving the lights on the table in favor of reaching your body. They were powerful weapons, powerful beings, but you've learned they can give away their singer's emotions and intentions if unchecked.
“You know what I think?”
“I'm sure you'll tell me anyway.”
“I think this need you have to always be the one to figure everything out on your own and making yourself useful comes from being that insecure little kid who couldn't even fly.” The vile words fall from your mouth far too easily, it's almost like you're always trying to prove the rumors about you right. “Scared they'll throw you away? Find someone better than you?”
You thought his shadows would crawl up your body at the verbal attack, maybe even try to hide his if you truly crossed a line, but much to your surprise they scatter around the room instead. Azriel's head tilts to the side, a smirk falling onto his handsome face as he starts walking around the table, slowly making his way to you. It takes far too much self control for you not to back away, years of training and experience rendered null in his presence.
Azriel wouldn't hurt you, that would compromise the alliance between your courts, and, as cruel as your words had been, they were also true, - he would be too scared of the repercussions of failing his brother far too much, - but that wasn't what made your heart race so. You were scared of what else he could do to you, of what you would let him do.
His hand reaches to cup your face, and you struggle to keep up the glare as you take in the hunger in his eyes. Azriel hums when you make no move to pull away, eyes dropping to your chest for a moment before meeting yours once again, letting you know he could hear the way your heart was trying to escape through your ribcage.
“You really don't know how to do anything else but bite when you get backed into a corner, do you?”
His voice sounded deeper as he whispered so close to you, his breath hitting your face as you looked up at him.
“What else am I supposed to do?”
Azriel lets out a cruel chuckle, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. “I thought you already knew you can drop the act when it's just me,” he murmurs, “guess I'll need to show you again.”
His lips fall over yours as soon as the words leave his mouth, your hand coming up to hold the back of his neck, pulling him in even closer. It had been far too long since you had last tasted him and you needed more, needed to drown yourself in him.
His own hands start trailing down your body, pulling up the skirt of your dress until it gathers at your waist, lifting you up onto the table and standing between your legs before you have the chance to react, always getting so lost in him.
“What are you doing?” You ask, pulling away as you try to remember yourself, remember your role and where you are. Anyone could walk in this room and find you like this. You don't know what would be worse: everyone figuring out you were spies working to uncover their whole operation, or someone seeing the spymasters of two opposing courts tangled up like this.
“As long as we are in this house we need to keep up our cover,” Azriel explains against your neck, unwilling to let you hold on to your sanity, “Can't you hear them upstairs? We're the odd ones out.”
You had been so caught up in him you hadn't even noticed the mingling scents and wanton moans traveling all the way from up the stairs. It almost sounded like the universe was working against you. Tightening your grip on his silky hair as he moves lower, kissing your skin all the way down to the neckline of your dress.
He stands up suddenly, eyeing your covered body one more time, before pulling out his trusted dagger, Truth Teller, and running its tip down your throat lightly, the cold blade barely touching the skin. Your eyes widen a bit, but the way his track the blade's movements makes you relax against it. It looks like you're in for an unforgettable night.
“This is a beautiful dress. It was incredibly hard to keep my eyes off you the whole night,” he says, eyes meeting yours for a split second, “but it's getting in the way now.”
“It's an expensive dress, Azriel.” Your voice was far too breathy for this to sound like a heartfelt complaint. He humors you all the same.
“I'll buy you a new one,” he promises just as the sharp blade starts cutting at the corset holding your dress tight against your skin, destroying the fabric far too easily. Gods, he could cut your skin so easily if he wanted to.
He throws the offending corset aside, making you finally breathe properly for the first time tonight. As you take a deep breath, his scent assaults your senses, making the wetness gathering in your underwear grow even more. You bring his lips back to yours but he only allows you a short kiss before he's pulling away again.
Just as you go to protest, he gets back to work with his knife, running the cold blade over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine, gasps escaping you when he actually cuts through fabric after caressing your skin with the deadly weapon for so long.
By the time your dress was in shreds at his feet, and you were finally naked to his eyes, you were unbelievably turned on, so wet you think he could slip right in with no resistance.
“Lay down for me.”
It takes you a moment to fully think through what he wanted you to do, studying the shadowsinger intently for any sign of deceit. He lets you, simply staring back into your eyes, as open as you've ever seen him. The knife in his hand didn't feel threatening, not after he ran the blade all over your skin without so much as a scratch, and you fear you would never actually feel threatened by it as long as he was the one holding it.
You obey him, falling back against the table you had just been eating at, surrounded by a dangerous cult who was still lingering inside this very house, and could very well catch you both in this vulnerable state. He was right though, you couldn't help but at least show your teeth.
“Are you interrogating me now?”
Azriel hums, a dark, excited look falling over his eyes, one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand, whether because of fear or anticipation you can't be too sure.
“We can do that,” he starts, running Truth Teller's hilt down your sternum, “It's not often I get the Spymaster of the Autumn Court under my knife after all.”
“And what do I get in return for answering your questions?”
The smile on his face grows, laying the knife down your torso, the blade fitting perfectly between your breasts, and spreading your legs apart further, helping you plant your feet on the table too, keeping you nice and open for his greedy eyes. “I think you know.”
“Did Eris send you here to spy on me or on them?” Azriel asks as he leans over you so he can meet your eyes properly.
The problem with this position is that you can't really keep your eyes on him, only seeing his shadowy figure through your peripheral vision unless he leans over you or you strain your neck. You felt completely at his mercy.
As if hearing your thoughts, - something you were sure only his High Lord and Lady could do, - his shadows gather under you, bringing in a rolled up table cloth so you could hold your head up, and meet his eyes. Being confronted by his hazel eyes again makes you clench around nothing, momentarily forgetting everything else.
“Both,” you answer honestly. It's not like you both didn't already know the truth. “You keep hiding things from us so what other choice do we have?”
“Your High Lord isn't entitled to know about everything that happens in Prythian,” he scoffs, his disdain for Eris so obvious it almost makes you flinch when he touches you again, his thumb running down your stomach, from the tip of his knife to where you needed him most.
“Neither is yours.”
Now it was his turn to glare up at you, leaning over your body and looking down with sharp eyes. You almost think this would turn into another argument before he keeps running his thumb down your folds, collecting your wetness and spreading it around, not quite giving you what you needed.
“Tell me,” he starts, picking up the dagger once again, “have you told your High Lord you keep letting a bastard like me fuck you?”
It's only when blood starts dripping down his wrist that you notice he had grabbed the dagger by the blade. Just as you go to get up and stop him, not wanting to see him hurt, he runs the hilt of his favored dagger over your folds just like he had done with his fingers, getting it coated in your wetness, and making you stop in your tracks as a gasp escapes you.
“Would you tell him how easily you fall apart on my cock?” His intentions were becoming clear in your mind, and for some sick reason it was only making you wetter instead of scared. “Need an answer, little spy.”
“No,” you confess, eyes staring back into his, silently begging him to do something.
“Embarrassed?”
“Not of you.”
The problem wasn't him. You were embarrassed of how easily you forget yourself when he so much as looks your way, even though he's more enemy than ally and makes his hate for your court and High Lord well known every time you meet. You're embarrassed at how you still let him touch you like this and be a constant presence in your thoughts knowing he would kill the person that saved and gave you the opportunity to be someone of importance in a heartbeat.
A shadow passes by his eyes, you're not sure what it meant, but luckily he doesn't linger in unwanted thoughts either, spreading your folds apart with his thumb as he starts feeding your cunt the hilt of his dagger. You tighten involuntarily around the unfamiliar material, even though you were so wet you were dripping down onto the table under you.
Azriel lets out a sigh at the sinful sight, circling his thumb around your clit. “Relax for me,” he murmurs, “I promise I'll make you feel good.”
And as usual your body listens to him immediately, allowing him to slowly insert the hilt of the dagger completely inside you. The scent of his blood mixed in with your arousal was making your head spin, and you can't help but call out his name, ready to beg if that was what it took. It seems his patience was wearing thin too as he starts pumping Truth Teller inside you, slowly fucking you with his dagger.
“Fuck, you look perfect.”
You should definitely feel a bit ashamed at the noises erupting from your lips, but if you did it was only adding to the pleasure, a high building inside you far too rapidly. You stand no chance as he leans down and sucks your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue around and speeding up his thrusts, your hands falling to his hair, tightening around his curls painfully, keeping him right there.
Your orgasm almost takes you by surprise as you let out an untamed moan of his name, the Spymaster's name echoing around the room like it couldn't get you both killed. Your legs dangle over the table again, trembling slightly as your body works you through the intense pleasure.
Azriel's mouth only abandons you when you start pushing at his head, too sensitive as you come down. His dagger follows, the sound of it being placed on the table next to you making you open your eyes and look at it, heat spreading to your face and ears as you do, still soaked with your cum on its hilt and his blood on the blade.
You look his way to find him studying it as well, his bloodied hand holding onto your hip, staining your skin as well. He was so focused that the shadowsinger didn't even notice you sitting up until you grab the back of his neck and pull him into a passionate kiss, feeling even needier now than when you first started even though you just came so hard you had seen every star in the sky.
Azriel returns the kiss with the same intensity, both of you getting lost in each other's taste and touch. Time seemed to stop around you. His hand travels up your body, painting his blood over your skin, making your scents mix completely into one, until you were anyone that walked into this room wouldn't be able to tell them both apart.
You feel him tense up against you suddenly, lips freezing against yours, prompting you to pull away, scared something had happened. Your eyes fall on the door immediately, thinking one of the cult members had wandered in, hand reaching for his dagger, but when you find the door still closed and no one even close to this room your eyes fall on his questioningly.
What you find in his wide hazel eyes scares you more than anything else could, ice running through your veins, snuffing out your fire as you see an inescapable fate come alive, shackling you together. His dagger drops onto the table once more, slipping through your fingers.
Azriel was your mate.
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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago
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crushing - takuma ino
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word count: 3k warnings: i think none summary: ino's not great at making moves and you're not great at picking up on them. either way, you're undeniably crushing on each other. a/n: this is my first ino fic! i don't usually post something immediately after finishing it but i really wanted feedback on this one before i wrote bigger n better fics for him :3 ___
Takuma Ino was not a desperate man.
At least he hoped he didn’t come off that way whenever he crossed paths with (y/l/n) (y/n).  He really hoped he didn’t.  Because every day he spent at Jujutsu Tech, he went out of his way to ‘accidentally’ bump into her as many times as possible.  
His personal best was twenty-five.  That day he’d stayed well past sunset to finish the paperwork he’d neglected, but he still stands by his choices.
Nanami claimed that if he had a crush on the young manager, then he should just ask her out already, but Ino didn’t think it was that easy.  Not because he was  nervous- of course not! He just wanted to be certain that she would agree to go out with him before making a move.  That wasn’t a ridiculous notion, was it? 
It wasn’t ridiculous.  It just meant things moved… slowly.
“Ino, hey,” 
(y/n’s) drawn out of her conversation with Maki when she sees the Grade Two Sorcerer approaching in the hall.  There’s a soft smile of familiarity on her face, unlike the student beside her who rolled her eyes and slumped against the wall, knowing that it would take twice as long to have her paperwork looked over.  This wasn’t the first time Maki had witnessed the perfect distraction that was Takuma Ino.  It was already the fourth time this week, and just like every other time, (y/n) fell for it right away.
Just as he approaches the both of them, a look of confusion flashes across (y/n’s) face, and she tucks the forgotten paperwork against her chest as she tilts her head at him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Yokohama? I thought you were assigned to that Grade One curse with the whole…” She pauses as she makes an indefinite shape with her hands, “Explosive thing?” 
“I’m about to head out for it now, but, you know,” He shrugs his shoulders, a smile forming on his face the longer he looks at her.
The first time he’d laid eyes on her he’d done a cartoonish double take, which unfortunately Nanami bore witness to.  She’d been walking and chatting animatedly with Ijichi- who seemed less passionate about the conversation but was an attentive listener nonetheless- and every time he’d seen her since, Ino felt the same lurch in his heart that was the desire to linger near her just a little longer.
Before he could finish his thought, Maki was speaking up first.
“You just wanted to show up late?” She asked dryly, her expression anything but amused by the sight of young love.
“I’m not late,” He chuckles nervously, shaking his head.  “I just wanted to stop by my good luck charm before I left” He claims with a little more confidence before he grins at (y/n).
She laughs at the comment, and Maki can’t help but roll her eyes just a little bit.  Typical.  Surely she’d swoon over the flirty comment and then drop it completely, just like she always did.
“Yeah yeah,” She mused, just like Maki expected.  “Go, don’t get yourself in trouble again.  I don’t think Nanami will keep vouching for you” 
“Sure he will,” Ino waves a dismissive hand, but judging from the way he’s already turning away and breaking into a jog, (y/n) and Maki can see through the nonchalant act.  “But it’ll be quick! I’ll have the shortest report ever for you!” He hollers from down the hall.
(y/n’s) still chuckling once he’s out of sight.  Maki huffs in aggravation.
“I can’t believe you lead that guy on.  You’re gonna have to let him down easy if you don’t want him to have a stroke”
“What?” (y/n) shakes her head at the student’s accusation.  “I don’t lead him on, we just get along” 
“You lead him on” Maki deadpans.  (y/n) holds her paperwork a little tighter against herself, and the defensive action doesn’t go unnoticed.
“This isn’t appropriate, I won’t allow for this to be a silly rumor of some s-” 
“Gojo Sensei says that he’ll never make a move unless you do it first” Maki shrugs.
All professionalism flies out the window in an instant as (y/n’s) face goes blank, her eyes blinking wide as she stares back at the student in utter disbelief.
“He did?” She mumbles.  
Maki nods in confirmation.
(y/n) glances around herself to ensure their conversation would be a private one, before shuffling forward and lowering her voice.
“Well… what else did he say?” ___
To say that (y/n) had a bit of a crush on the Auspicious Beast Summoner would be an understatement.  From the day he’d fallen in front of her- literally, he fell down half a flight of stairs and she’d rushed to make sure he was alright- there was something exciting about him.  He was so kind, and funny, and he so obviously went out of his way to talk to her that she slowly found her heart fluttering more and more whenever he was around.
All this time she’d thought he was just friendly, and was eager to have a companion at Jujutsu Tech that was his age.  Why else would he spend so much time around a manager when there are much cooler, much stronger people around? It was no secret what he thought of Nanami, and while (y/n) was proud of her work, she simply couldn’t compete with the skill of a sorcerer.
Usually she wasn’t one to listen to rumors, especially from a source like Gojo Satoru.  He may have been a friend-of-sorts to her, but that didn’t mean (y/n) trusted him for a second.  Gojo was a good guy, but he was the kind of guy to stir the pot when he was bored, and playing matchmaker was just a game to him.  So despite everything Maki had told her, she didn’t necessarily believe it.  She was just curious, that’s all.
And the only reason she was headed off to Ino’s office after being notified he’d returned from his mission was just to address the rumors, that’s all.  She was doing him a favor by letting him know what the other sorcerers were gossiping about.  There couldn’t possibly be an ulterior motive laced in there as well.
His door is open when she reaches the small workspace, but he doesn’t seem to notice when she appears there, leaning into the door frame while she takes in the crude office.  
Calling it an office didn’t even feel correct.  There was a desk and a computer, and a semi-comfortable looking rolling chair that Ino was sitting in.  He hadn’t realized there was a visitor at the door seeing as he had his head hanging over the back of it, his mask pulled down and his hands pressed into his face.  (y/n) had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to come out of her, assuming there was more to report in his paperwork than he’d assumed and was now overwhelmed by it.
With a soft tap of her knuckles on the doorframe, (y/n) makes her presence known.
“Need some help?” 
Ino jolts up so suddenly his chair is sent backwards, rolling away from the desk and tipping out of balance too, but he’s quick to steady himself, staring at her sudden figure at his door with wide eyes.  It’s the only part of his expression she can make out, seeing as he’s still got his mask pulled over his face.
“(y/n)!” He greets her louder than he intended, but he had yet to shake off his surprise in seeing her.  A fond smile tilts the corners of her mouth, unable to be helped as she watches him awkwardly scramble in his seat.  “How long have you been standing there?” 
“Long enough to consider leaving if you were crying under there” She teases, finally stepping foot into the room.  Her eyes wander the bare gray walls, a slight frown taking over at how empty the whole space feels.
“No, I’m not-” Before he continues, Ino’s quick to yank his mask off his face, pulling it off his head completely and dropping it on his desk.  “What brings you here?” He changes the subject completely, his eyes never leaving her figure as she wanders around the room as if looking for something.
He realizes then that she’s never seen his office- not that there was much to see, as she was coming to find- but nonetheless it’s odd that she’s the one approaching him for once.  It was always Ino searching around the halls of Jujutsu Tech for her, not the other way around.
“So empty,” (y/n) comments quietly, and he’s not sure if she was talking to herself or him.  “You don’t like to decorate?” She asks, this time turning to him.
“I’m not in here very much,” He admits, a sheepish smile on his face.  “I take most of my paperwork home.  If I’m here I’m not usually in the office” 
“Yeah,” (y/n) smiles softly, ducking her head to hide the way her face warms up.  “That’s cause you’re usually trying to bother me” 
She doesn’t see it, but Ino’s face lights up.  He bears a wide grin and his eyes gleam with excitement.  She was acting quite out of character today.  Usually he was the one teasing her.  This was a real treat.
“Bother?” He repeats, standing up from his chair and rounding his desk to lean against it, completely ignoring the half-written report on his computer that he hadn’t hit save on in a while.  “I don’t seem to remember ever bothering you” 
She rolls her eyes, finally looking up at him, and Ino thinks he could combust from excitement.  She’s blushing, which he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he can tell she’s fighting back a bigger smile behind the small one she shows him.
“Well what would you call it then?” She asks, still struggling to bite back a grin that mirrors his.  So much joy poured out of him it was difficult to fight the way it took her by the soul and forced her to feel nothing but warmth and butterflies.
“Obviously I was romancing you,” Ino replies without missing a beat, surprising even himself with the blunt truth.  Besides the way her eyes round into saucers, (y/n) doesn’t really react to the statement.  “Not my fault you’re a hard person to flirt with sometimes” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, and then tucks his hands into his pockets.
(y/n) blinks a few times, staring him down like she was suddenly an expert in body language.
“I am?” She asks, a small laugh escaping her at the suggestion.  “Because maybe I didn’t know you were flirting” She says with a shrug of her own.
Ino gapes back at her, unable to keep up with the chill facade when she says something so ridiculous.
“What do you mean you didn’t know?” He asks, and she laughs again, finally losing the battle to the grin on her face.  “Was I not obvious enough? You know that even Gojo was trying to get me to-” 
“Yeah, I know,” (y/n) says quietly, but it’s effective in getting him to shut up.  “One of his students might’ve told me some rumors they heard from him” She explains.
“What!?” Embarrassment floods his features.  “Who? I want names-” 
“Can’t, teacher-student confidentiality and all” She teases.  
She’s learning it was quite fun to not be on the receiving end of the playful banter.  In the past it was always Ino with the perfect quip or joke to have her flustered for the rest of the day, even if she wouldn’t show it.  Knowing he was actually incredibly easy to mess with felt like knowing his weakness.
“You’re not a teacher” He deadpans.  She laughs again.
“Well, I actually came to let you know that certain sorcerers here were spreading rumors to slander your good name,” She tells him matter of factly.  “But it appears those rumors are actually true, so they’re not really rumors, huh?” 
Ino rolls his eyes, but it’s in no way directed at her.  He makes a mental note to bring this up to Nanami to add to the very long list of grievances caused by Gojo Satoru.
(y/n) steps close to him, linking her fingers together behind her back as she finds the courage to hold eye contact with him.
“Why didn’t you just ask me out?” She asks.
He hates that she tilts her head to the side just so.  She did it on occasion when she was confused about something, and Ino’s sure that she’s not even aware that she had that tendency, but every time she did it he was so overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her that most of the time he had to completely walk away from her.
But they’re in his office, having a conversation he really didn’t want to walk away from.  If he ran now, there would be no coming back from it, and his intrigue in how she felt about him outweighed the aggravation she caused him when she looked that pretty.
He’s staring at her without saying anything, and he knows it’s been a few seconds too long to be comfortable, but it’s hard to care.  She’s close enough to him that he can smell her perfume and see how every strand of hair falls over left shoulder and he can’t help but take in every pretty sight of her.
He once swore he wasn’t a desperate man, hence his patience in waiting while he tried to figure out how she felt before he made a move, but standing here now, what’s one promise in the grand scheme of life? 
So he leans forward off his desk a bit, desperation getting the best of him.
“Would you have agreed?” 
She raises her chin, the apples of her cheeks getting rosy in color despite her trying to play it cool.
“I asked you first” 
“I asked you second” 
That had her bursting out in laughter, hands falling to her hips.
“Oh, real mature!” She says through a fit of bubbly giggles.
It’s cute.  It was so cute in fact, Ino just couldn’t take it anymore.  The fun banter he’d tried to establish had now warped into his own personal hell.
And hell didn’t even have any boring office decorations, no succulents, no photo frames, not even a calendar.
“Just answer the question,” He says, and it comes out as more of a plea than he means for it to, but he doesn’t bother trying to compensate for it, or taking it back.  “Would you have agreed to go out with me?” 
He has a hopeful look in his eye that only seems to gleam more with every second that passes without her response.  (y/n) softens, the warmth in her chest spreading throughout her entire body and making her melt like putty.  It was almost pathetic, how quickly this little crush she’d harbored for the sorcerer had grown into something more genuine than she’s ever felt for anyone before.
“Yeah,” She answers simply, quietly, barely nodding her head along with her confirmation.  “Yeah, I would have” 
The smile he wears is so sweet and pure that she’s mirroring it in a heartbeat.
“Okay,” He thinks he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t hurry this up, so he rushes the next string of words out so fast (y/n’s) lucky she managed to understand him.  “You wanna go out then? Tonight? For drinks? And then maybe dinner?” 
She’s laughing as she nods, her hands nervously fiddling together.
“Okay,” She repeats, rocking back and forth on her feet just once.  “But you should finish your report first.  So, call me when you’re done?” 
He wants to protest, but he knows she’s right.  So as he hands her his phone to add herself as a contact, Ino mentally starts going through what he has to finish so he could get through it as quickly as possible.
She’s still grinning when she hands him his phone back, already eager for the day to be over.
“I’ll be quick, promise” He beams back at her as she makes her way out of his office.
“You pick where we go for drinks, and I’ll pick where we go for dinner,” She decides, lingering at the doorway for just a moment longer.  “Sound good?” 
“Sounds perfect” He’s back in his chair and clicking away at his keyboard as he writes nonsense into his report.  
(y/n’s) gone with a little wave and a blush that only burns brighter the further away she gets.  She just hopes she doesn’t run into anyone in the meantime.
Ino tries to work on his report after adding some meaningless fluff of things that didn’t really happen, and weren’t really necessary for the report.  He really does try.
For five whole minutes.
But then he can’t help but open his phone to check on the contact (y/n) had just made for himself, and seeing the little orange heart emoji she’d added next to her name has him swooning way too hard- over an emoji, at least.  But that’s what she reduced him to, mush.
(y/n’s) just reached the front steps of Jujutsu Tech when her phone starts blaring her ringtone in her pocket.  She makes a face at the unknown number calling her, but it’s washed away as soon as she picks it up.
“Would you believe me if I said I finished already?” Ino’s speaking right away, without so much as a greeting.  
She giggles into the receiver, because no, no she doesn’t.
“That’s quite impressive work” She praises.
“I think you’ll come to find I’m quite an impressive guy!” He responds, and then quickly follows it with, “Not in, like, a douchebag way though!” 
She fights the urge to laugh any harder, not wanting to put him through any more embarrassment than he’s already suffered today.  They still have an entire evening ahead of them, after all.
“Of course not,” She murmurs softly.  “Meet me at the front steps, then? We can go into town together” 
And when Ino’s there in under a minute, trying desperately not to show how out of breath he is, she doesn’t tease him for it.  Not until later in the night after a few drinks in, anyways.
___
xoxo ~ jordie
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osarina · 4 months ago
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ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)
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FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very 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).
IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.
CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread
SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet
SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST
Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 
He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.
But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.
He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.
He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.
You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.
He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.
Like today.
But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.
What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.
Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.
“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”
“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”
“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.
“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
You do.
Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.
The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”
The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.
“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”
Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.
Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.
“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.
“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”
You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.
“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”
You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.
Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 
Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.
“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”
Let me in.
Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.
“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.
“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”
You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 
Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.
You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.
“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”
Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”
“I am.”
“You’re here.”
“I am.”
“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”
You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”
Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.
“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”
“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.
“No,” you say. “I don’t.”
And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.
But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.
“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”
“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.
“It’s true.”
Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.
He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.
“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”
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You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 
Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.
It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.
When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.
You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 
But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.
“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”
“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”
You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him
Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”
“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”
“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”
“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 
“Did you just call me a cockroach?”
“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.
“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”
You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.
“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”
“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”
You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 
Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.
“Does it have something to do with me?”
“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”
Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”
You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.
“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”
Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”
“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”
Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”
“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”
Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.
“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”
Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.
“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”
“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.
Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”
“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”
You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.
He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.
He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-
You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.
“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”
It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-
You couldn’t say no.
You need to-
“You need to make them want to go back.”
You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 
“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”
You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”
“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”
Oh.
Oh my god.
“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”
“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.
“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”
You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.
But if you can act fast enough then maybe…
As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.
“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 
You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?
“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.
His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.
You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.
“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.
“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”
You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.
Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 
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A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 
You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 
Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.
As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 
“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.
“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”
Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.
“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”
 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”
You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 
“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”
You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.
“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.
“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”
Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 
Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.
“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”
“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”
Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”
You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 
“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”
Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.
Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”
“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”
Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.
“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”
He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.
“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”
It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.
Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.
“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”
You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 
“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”
You’d never recover from it. Never.
“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”
You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”
Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”
Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.
You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-
And you think you love him.
The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.
No way.
“What?” he breathes out.
“What?” you echo, voice flat.
“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”
You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”
Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.
“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.
Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”
“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”
A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.
“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.
“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”
“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.
His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.
Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 
“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.
“The cat?”
“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.
“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”
Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”
You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”
Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”
“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”
Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.
“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”
“No.”
“You said whatever I say-”
“No!”
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“Are you asleep?”
Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.
The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.
And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.
He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.
I think I love you.
His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 
Love. Love. Love. 
You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 
You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.
And Dazai loves you. 
He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…
Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.
“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”
“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”
“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”
Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.
“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 
He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.
“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”
His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.
So, he doesn’t say it.
“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”
He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.
“Are you attracted to me?”
It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 
But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?
You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  
“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.
Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 
He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.
“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”
“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”
He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 
“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”
“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”
Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 
How embarrassing.
“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”
Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.
And then-
And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 
“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”
“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”
“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”
“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”
Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”
“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”
“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.
“What do you mean why?” 
He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”
You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.
“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.
Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.
“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”
You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 
“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”
Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”
Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 
“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”
Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.
“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”
“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”
Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.
“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”
When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.
But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.
“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”
Why did you stay?
“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”
His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.
“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”
Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.
“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”
“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 
You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.
You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.
Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.
Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.
“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”
You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.
He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.
Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 
You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 
He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.
His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 
Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”
And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.
You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.
And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.
He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.
He feels loved.
You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.
“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”
He feels loved. 
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Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.
Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.
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smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.
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kimmryokoo · 1 month ago
Text
Late Night - logan howlet
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author: kim ryoko
masterlist
summary: logan was supposed to go to a mission that would only last 3 days. unfortunately, it took longer then expected. your birthday went by quicly and you were already sleeping when logan returned. you both really missed each other and you let a kiss turn into something bigger...
word count: 3k
warnings: figeting, smut, filthy, reader has no appetite, slight possibility of death (doesn't happend), teasing, sub reader, little fluff at the end
author's note: english isn't my first language so i'm sorry for ay grammar mistakes, feel free to correct me. i'm so sorry it took me this long to publish something. i've been really busy lately. my birthday was on december 13th (the same as taylor swift🤭), so i wrote this as a sort of birthday present.
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It's been days since you last saw Logan. He was out on a mission with Scott and Jean, and they left exactly 7.5 days ago when it was supposed to only last 3 days. You missed Logan very much, and tomorrow was your birthday so you were rooting for Logan and the rest of the team to arrive the night before or in the morning of the day.
It was already 11pm the day before your birthday and you were still waiting for your friends and lover to arrive while sitting in a bench on the jet garage and you then heard the big and thick metal doors sliding to open and the sound of wheels caught your attention.
“You're still here? It's getting late. You should head to bed and get a good night's sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Charles said.
“I'm just waiting for them to arrive.” you spoke with a tone filled with exhaustion, worry, hope and love, all at the same time.
“Unfortunately, I don't think they'll come back today.”
“What makes you say that, professor?”
“If they were to return, Jean would've reached to me and reported everything that happened while they were out on the mission, but she hasn't yet.” Charles argued and got a bit closer to you, now sitting next to you and putting an understanding hand on your back.
“I really wanted to spend tomorrow with them.” you said in a sad voice.
“I know. But the only thing you can do right now is go to sleep and get energized for when they do come back.” he stated in his always calm tone.
“You're right. Thank you, professor.” and before you got up to leave the room, you gave a loose hug to the older man that has supported you through so many things.
It was now the next day, 6:30 a.m. and your alarm went on with his job of waking you up. His loud rings easily made their way to your ears and woke you up with a symphony that reminded you a lot of screaming babies. To end your suffering, you quickly moved your hand to turn off the alarm.
You sat up and stared at the place where your feet were hidden under the blanket. You then looked to your side and saw the cold, empty bed you wished was filled by Logan.
You sighed and got up to prepare yourself a bath to give you enough fuel to go through the day.
After you got out of the shower and put on some clothes, you packed everything you needed for the day and when you were packing the notebook where you plan your classes, you saw something written on the page the notebook was opened, and it looked like Logan’s lettering.
‘ Hey. So, I'm pretty sure this mission ain't gonna take 3 days like those dip heads are saying, so I'm writing a note for your birthday, so you can at least hear from me that day.I know that the day you're reading this is your birthday day, because I can see the date of the classes you planned in here. First of all, happy birthday, and I want you to know that I love you. A lot. And you're honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I also want you to know that if I'm not there for your birthday, I'm dying of how much I miss you. I really hope you have a great day and that I get to see you or at least talk to you today. Love ya.
-Lo ’
Wow. Even when he's away, he somehow manages to make your day better.
You read the note and felt your heart swell with love for that man.
You finished packing everything and stepped outside the room and only a few steps later you were attacked by someone who came running towards you from your back and back-hugged you.
“Happy Birthday!” you heard the person whom you then knew was Ororo from her voice.
You turned to your friend and she immediately hugged you properly. Your smile grew wider from all the care your friend was giving you.
“Thank you, Ororo.”
“I got you a present! But I’m only going to give it to you at the end of the day.” the white haired woman said while breaking the hug and holding both your hands to continue touching you somehow.
“Then why would you tell me now?! You’re going to make me anxious all day!” you said in a pout tone but with a smile on your lips as you squeezed your friend’s hands harder.
“I know you have classes to teach, and so have I so I’m not going to take your precious time.” she grinned and kissed my cheek “Have a great day and happy birthday again!” She continued and started walking towards the direction she came from whilst waving a small ‘good-bye’ to which you responded with the same gesture and a kind and grateful smile.
You quickly arrived at your class and from that moment forward, that day was filled with people saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to you and many ‘Happy birthday’ songs.
At the end of all your classes, you decided to head back to the jet garage to wait for the team, since they haven’t arrived yet. While you were sitting on the same bench as the day before, you heard the same sound as you’ve heard the day before - heavy metal doors sliding open and metal wheels going your direction.
“What a Déjà vu, huh?” you said playfully to Charles, who chuckled softly at your statement.
“I would also say so myself. I presume you're here doing the same thing as you were yesterday?”
“Yeah.” you said looking down. The truth was that your day had been amazing, but it still felt a bit empty without Logan.
“Have you had dinner yet? It’s almost 8 p.m. .”
“No, I came here right after my classes finished. I’m just so worried. They should’ve been back by now. What if something bad happened? What if they…?”
“I’m sure it hasn’t. Have a little more faith in them. Go eat something and then I’ll let you come back here, but you have to promise me you’ll go to sleep at least by 11 p.m.”
“Fine.” you responded with a tone of defeat and got up to walk to the kitchen.
You tried your best to eat a normal sized meal, but you were too worried to eat anything. You stared at your plate with a small amount of mach-and-cheese and stirred it for about 30 minutes. It took you a long time to eat all of your food, but eventually you finished and cleaned the mess you made.
You left the kitchen and saw the rest of the mansion in complete darkness. You know your way around, and your heart was telling you to go back downstairs and wait for Logan a little longer but you also knew that whether you wanted to or not, you'd make noise that would probably wake someone up and that would make you feel bad. You glance back at the clock on the kitchen wall and see it’s almost 10 p.m. and consider going straight to bed and not risking waking up any student that might make your day 10 times worse tomorrow. You end up going to your room, since you’re also pretty tired from your day.
Once you closed your bedroom door, you started doing your night routine and only a few moments after you lay on your bed, you fell asleep.
You later woke up to what sounded like a door opening and closing. And then another door opened and closed.
You looked around the room and found nothing wrong. It must've been in your dream, so you went back to sleep.
You woke up again, but this time with an arm wrapping around your waist and you supported your weight on your elbow and turned slightly just to see Logan’s exhausted face looking at you with apologizing eyes from his pillow.
“Logan!” you said happily and hugged the man tightly while burying your face in his neck.
“Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you!” you said and pulled a bit back to look at Logan’s face.
You leaned forward to lightly press your lips against his. That soft kiss was deepened when his hand grabbed the the back of your neck and pulled you to him. He was quick to change you positions so that he was on top. One of Logan’s hands supported his weight on the mattress near your face while the other one roamed free through your body squeezing your skin. You felt Logan’s tongue against your lips and didn't hesitate to let it in.
“You have no idea how much I missed ya.” Logan said in between kisses with a rough and starved tone that made you moan against his mouth.
In response to your sound, you felt his hips pressuring against yours while his free hand wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was beneath his pants and you never wanted something so bad like you did in that moment.
Logan’s mouth didn't restrain only your mouth. It also traveled to your neck and collarbones and you then smelled the scent of his shampoo. That's why you heard 2 doors opening and closing. One of them was your bedroom door and the other one was the bathroom's. It made sense now.
All that sense was rapidly taken away from you when you felt his bulge starting to move against your clothed pussy.
“Ahh… Logan…” you moaned “Please…” you finished.
“What, darlin’? Tell me. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you, birthday girl.”
“I… I want you…”
“Where?” he asked “Here?” he said, faking innocence while rubbing stripes on top of your shorts.
“Y-yes…” you said with flushed cheeks.
“Well then. Imma have to take this off.” He said and sat up on his knees to smoothly rip your shorts out of you to find out you weren't wearing any underwear.
“Oh fuck, princess. You'll be the death of me. I've been gone for over a week and come back to you all wet like this? Do you know how hard it is to control myself when all I could smell was this neddy pussy since you saw me?” he asked. His face gets closer with each word. Almost close enough to kiss you.
“Then don't.” you said breathless and softly. You then leaned a bit forward to lick his lips and made them open just a small bit.
You saw the way his eyes darkened in pure lust and you felt it in the way he kissed you - with so much passion and need.
Logan only broke the kiss to sit back up on his knees to rip your shirt off, letting your chest free.
“Why’d you rip all my clothes off?” you asked with your breath taken from the way he took your nipples in his mouth which made you back ark for more.
“My present.” he stated in a low tone.
“But it’s my birthday…” you answered with your eyes closed and a moan escaping your lips when you were done talking.
“Your birthday, my present.”
Logan continued to play with you for a few minutes when you felt a knot on your stomach.
“Lo, I’m close…”
With that, Logan stopped paying attention to your breasts and took his hand to your core, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and slowly inserting his index and middle finger on your clenching hole.
You almost screamed out of pleasure when you felt Logan’s fingers moving inside you and scissoring you open to prepare you. You soon came undone under the felling of the friction of his long, thick and calloused hands inside your pussy.
Logan pulled back his body, taking his fingers out of your hole and putting them in his mouth for a brief second, sucking them.
“The sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.” he uttered.
He then proceeded to put those same fingers inside your mouth, this time.
“Suck.” he demanded, and when you did as he ordered, he continued “Atta girl.”
With his free hand, he pulled down his pants and his cock immediately sprung free, slapping against his abs, with veins popping out and precum leaking from the tip. Logan then slowly stroked his length to lubricate it while you watched with saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth and your core getting wetter with every passing second, even though you just cummed.
Logan grabbed his cock by the base and aligned it with your hole, pushing bit by bit, inch by inch, until you were a moan and whimper mess. Once he bottomed you out, you moaned into his digits.
“Such a pretty little fuckin’ slut” he said as his gaze stared intensely to where your bodies met, watching you clench around him in an oh so delicious way.
Logan pulled back his hips to immediately rock them back into yours, making the thrilling sound of his skin slapping against yours fill your ears and your brain. Logan’s pace started slow - always careful not to hurt you - but you could tell it was different then usual. He was rougher than normal, eating you out with more urgency.
“You have no idea how good it feels to be inside this pussy again.” he groaned at the end of the sentence.
Logan’s pace sped up as he started to seek for the pleasure of his high that he had felt coming since he began fucking you. Logan knew that after so many days of only cumming with his hand while thinking of in his tend don't even compare to the feel of being inside you and that once he felt it again, he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long.
Logan took a moment to stop thinking about anything and look at you. Really look at you. The way your hair was messy because of the pillow, the way your forehead was sweating more than usual from thee over-stimulation, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head every time he pounded inside you, the way your cheeks where flustered and got more red every time he praised you, the way your beautiful lips where glossy and red from all the sucking and that pretty string of saliva dripping in your cheek, the way your neck was marked from his hard work, the way your tits bounced up and down rhythmically with the times he fucked himself into you and the hickeys and red spots here and there, the way your clit was swollen and over-sensitive, the way your pussy wrapped around his cock so perfectly and clenched around him making him feel like he was in heaven, the way your sweet noises filled the room and you the way you called his name like it was a prayer. Fuck… Logan couldn’t take it anymore.
He grabbed your legs and put them on his shoulders, giving him better access to your g-spot and bending even further to kiss you. The kiss was rugged but held all the feelings he felt when he was alone in his cold sleeping bag in the inside of his tent while listening to Scott and Jean doing what he would kill to be doing with you.
“Lo… I-I’m coming again…”
“That’s it. Come for me princess.”
And, you did as you were told.
As soon as he felt you coming apart on his cock, he couldn’t resist it anymore and filled you up.
“Good girl. Always doing as you’re told.” he said in a teasing and low voice in which you only responded with another moan.
Logan helped you ride both your highs and you both soon came completely. He then let himself fall to your side, burying his head into the crook of your neck.
“Thank you for the present.” you said with a smile on your face as you lifted up your hand to play with his hair.
Logan chuckled and asked “You think this is your present? I told you it was mine. My fucking present for putting up with Scott and Jean for so long without leaving them there and coming back here to your arms.”
You laughed.
“I wouldn’t have minded that.”
“Noted. I’ll be sure to do it next time.” he joked and you felt his smile against your neck and you laughed again.
“Where’s my present, then?”
“Such an impatient girl.” he said as he pushed himself up, kissed you and grabbed a small box from his nightstand, all without coming out of you.
“Here you go, birthday girl.” He said and kissed your forehead.
You looked at the box and kissed Logan as a thank you. You opened the box and saw dog tags with your info on it and a picture of you and Logan.
“Well this, this is actually for me.” he said as he took your dog tags and with his other hand, he took his own off his neck and gave it to you.
“This is the one that’s actually for you. You know, I really missed you when I was out on the mission, and I know you miss me too when I’m gone so I thought this was a good way for me to always have a piece of you and you always have a piece of me. I also know how much you like that picture, so-” You interrupted him by kissing him.
“Thank you. I love it!” you said and he looked at you like you were an angel. His angel. “I love you, Logan.”
“Love you too, sweetheart.”
You cupped Logan’s cheeks and kissed him.
Both of you cuddled for the rest of the night and were finally able to fall asleep next to each other after so many nights apart. You were able to be next to each other, to feel the other's warmth.
That was the best night’s sleep both of you have had last week.
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Hope you liked it!
xoxo, kim ryoko
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yoredoesmore · 2 months ago
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Old Habits Don't Die | Hoshina Soshiro
pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Reader
genre: fluff/a lil romance/slowburn/enemies to lovers
summary: your childhood enemy still gives you a hard time even after all these years.
wc: 3k
Taglist: @adimelymanner @soshirohoshinasimp @istarluvx @hoshinasblade
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“Mrs. Yuki! Soshiro stole my building blocks again!” A voice yelled out. It did not take much to depict the clear annoyance and irritation that were laced into the cry. And if it wasn't obvious enough that you were moments away from lashing out on the other kid, the deep frown on your face served the purpose of further indicating your strong emotions of anger.
“They don't belong to ya!” Soshiro claimed boldly, completely disregarding the possible threat you would turn into, and continued to dangle the red pieces just slightly out of your reach. It was in that moment where you felt deep sympathy for bulls and learned to understand how seeing a simple color could drive on to go such lengths.
Kindergarten was supposed to be a place free from complications and pressure, for the children at least, yet you found yourself in a solid cloud of stress constantly. The source of your worrying state being no other than Hoshina Soshiro.
"You can't hog the animal plushies, you have to share them, Soshiro!”
“So that they end up stinking like ya?? "No way!"
The boy's snarky remarks were often followed by a rude motion of similar disrespect. Darting out his tongue and giving you nasty grimaces have become an everyday occurrence. You have thought about smacking him too many times, more than you would like to admit but you refused to lower yourself to his antics.
Besides the constant nagging and stealing, Soshiro loved to call you names. Pigtails had turned into a bad word when taken into his mouth and it has even come so far that he no longer used your name and rather referred to you by your hairstyle.
You sat neatly tucked in one of the reading corners, the world but just a mere background sound to you. The picture book held images that you have never seen before, it was deeply interesting. Caught up in the moment and feelings, you did not notice the malicious source approaching you.
By the time you took notice of his presence it was already too late.
Soft hands reached out for your pigtails, slightly pulling you up by the hair. The motion was more sudden than painful, yet you still let out a loud scream. Almost immediately, one of the caretakers came to your aid and you wasted no time telling them about Hoshinas' antics.
He was sentenced to 15 minutes in the corner after.
A sly, almost triumphant smile sat on your lips, watching the boy finally get the punishment he deserved. And of course you did not fail to show him your jolliness.
“Serves you right!” You cheerfully exclaimed, tongue darted out to give him a taste of his own medicine. The boy simply rolled his eyes and scoffed.
“All ya do is cry cry cry, that's no fun!” It appeared that Soshiro was more upset about you ending his antics before he could even start, rather than having to carry out the punishment. His eyes sat on yours for a while, as if he was trying to communicate something, but then he returned his gaze to the corner for good.
The day went on, and to your surprise, Soshiro did not even think about approaching you. The moments felt peaceful and calm, yet something was missing. Once again, you found yourself in a play corner, building towers that were meant to reach great heights. A figure approached you and it was no other than Mrs. Yuki.
“The tower looks amazing, Y/n!” She cheered you on, earning a smile from you.
“Without Soshiro here, I can make it even higher than before!” You cheerfully chimed.
“True, at last there is peace. But it must also be boring without him, right?” She suddenly suggested
“Not at all! Soshiro is sooo noisy, like a goose! I'm glad that he is no longer around to bother me.” You said firmly, standing your ground. The woman simply chuckled, her hands finding themselves in your hair to give it a strong ruffle.
She had a certain look in her eyes, one you found yourself unsure of. Then she left.
Whatever they told Soshiro after getting out of the corner had a strong effect on the boy for the remaining day. He stopped bothering or insulting you and when he had to start a conversation, he made sure to address you by your proper name. The newly established peace felt great for a while, but as the day moved on, it began to bore you out indeed. You missed the old dynamic and how he used to enthusiastically approach you just to get on your nerves again– but of course you would never admit that.
Did you break him? The Soshiro who was known as the powerhouse of your kindergarten group?
A subtle frown accompanied you on your way to the front door where your mother was waiting for you for pick up. Once again, you were so deep in thought that you did not notice the kid that was running right at you.
And then you felt someone harshly pull on your pigtails.
“Soshirooo!” You started crying and Mrs. Yuki already came to your aid to comfort you.
The boy topped off his harassment by showing you the nastiest expression known by a child, or mankind, his tongue spitting at you from a distance.
Old habits unfortunately never die.
After that day, he was put into a different kindergarten group, to no one's surprise. You still saw him every now and then but it never came to any big interactions besides on excursions. But even then, the caretakers made sure that you stayed unbothered by him.
The moments of silence soon turned into solid years. You almost forgot what it felt like, to experience true anger during elementary and middle school. Of course there were some pesky and annoying peers every here and there but none of them had the unfortunate effect that Soshiro had on you. Thus, life remained livable until you reached the academy.
Like a vicious circle everything fell back into place, the insults, the bickering, the testing of your patience– it was like a bad joke that repeated itself over and over again.
“Students are not allowed to use the training rooms on the third floor, they are strictly reserved for the higher ranked students. It's written in the student manual, very hard to skip, unless you don't read it of course..” You spat sternly, the last part coming out as a mocking whisper. You took your job as a student council member as serious as ever and especially Soshiro got to feel the abuse of your powers.
“Calm down, Pigtails.” He replied, not even looking at you as he continued with his stretching.
“Literally nobody cares besides ya and yer stupid manual book. The training rooms downstairs are too crowded– and besides, the higher ranked students barely come up here.”
Whenever you tried to use rules and order on this guy, Soshiro would simply disregard you. It was a constant back and forth with the man, a nightmare that you desperately hoped to escape one day..
11 years later…
“We should get the report back soon.” Okonogi said, a soft smile twirling on her lips as she looked up at you. You nodded your head, exercising one last bow before exiting the room.
You had just started your job at the Defense Force, specifically, as the operations Vice Leader for the Third Division alongside Okonogi.
Today is going to be another all nighter You thought and sighed.
It has always been your dream to secure this position and after hard training and lots of extra studying you finally made it.
Your eyes scanned through the countless files in your hands, trying to figure out which one you should tackle first.
It was a habit of yours, (one you desperately tried to get rid off) blending out everything and everyone around you the moment your eyes fell on a text. You walked in wonky motions, shadowing as many passages as possible before reaching your destination. To your luck, the last time you checked (two minutes ago) the hallway was empty.
It was peaceful all around you, so much that you even began to humm a melody. But what pulled you back into reality was the sharp pain that suddenly spread through your skull, inflicted by a flick to your forehead.
“Watch it, Pigtails.” A light, yet cocky voice suddenly spoke into the silence.
What the..
Your body froze over from head to toe, all senses on high alert. The man who made the comment simply kept walking, not even bothering with your presence. All that remained of him was the soft tone of his voice in the back of your head and the burning feeling his fingers had left behind on your head.
“Soshiro..?”
*
All night was spent thinking about the black haired individual and the memories you were taken back to. The Hoshina Soshiro, the child who made your childhood a mess and caused you stress beyond imagination, he was now working at the exact same place you applied for. What a joke.
Since you both went to Tokyo Neutralization University, you figured that he was going to walk down this path but to end up at the exact same Division..that was simply your bad luck.
Those thoughts accompanied you throughout the remaining day– and their weight was evident on your face. Okonogi took notice of the change in your usually cheerful demeanor and wasted no time in addressing the matter.
“Is all well? You seem a little out of it today.” Her voice sat laced in concern and worry.
“Oh yes, no worries please. It’s just..I think I ran into an old acquaintance of mine yesterday. Here in the building. Haven't seen him in a while and we go like, wayyy back.” The chuckle that left your lips was drenched in awkwardness and discomfort. You placed a strong emphasis on the words acquaintance, refusing to refer to him as enemy or bully to not create a misunderstanding.
Okonogi shook her head in an understanding manner before returning her attention back to her screen.
“Sounds great. Why not talk to him and ask how he has been? I'm sure he was just as surprised to see you again.”
It was such simple advice, easy to digest and execute, yet you immediately knew that you could not follow it. Walking up to him of all people would destroy your mind, even thinking about it had your head spinning.
While the thoughts in your head once again went spiraling, you failed to notice the appearance of a new presence. The door opened and almost immediately all the workers around you stopped their work and researches in their tracks to greet the individual, all but you.
Okonogi gave you a soft nudge against the shoulders in an attempt to get your attention but you failed to react in time. A soft “hm?” was all she managed to acquire, while your eyes stayed focused on your lap. And when you finally turned your head to the direction she was looking at, all you were met with was the back of a clipboard that was milliseconds away from colliding with your head.
Thud
You groaned. The weight of the item came crashing down on your head out of nowhere. It hurt your pride more than it did your body and the discomfort was clearly displayed on your face.
“Normally I don't need to go such lengths to get my subordinates attention, Pigtails.”
Almost immediately your eye shot open and locked with the man who stood before your seated figure. Your heart tightened into a knot and for a second, you could feel a slight gush of heat sweep over your face.
“Hoshina..” Your eyes held a shimmer the man did not know existed. Astonishment and fright, two so distant emotions, came together in your eyes to create something indescribable.
“..Address me with Captain if you seek my acknowledgement. Now, pay attention or move somewhere else.” Without allowing your heart or mind to catch up to the situation, Captain Hoshina moved back to the center of the room to make the announcement he came for.
There he was, an old enemy, right in front of you. The years have only done him favors. Although he never abandoned the bowl cut, his face has grown into that of a man, handsome with no imperfections to be found. His body too has adapted to his age and profession. Lean muscles and a fit build– he was far from unattractive.
Hoshina had come to pass down some information about the approval of the request the operation team put in a while ago about improvements on both the suit supervision and training program. (Un)fortunately (you were conflicted about his sudden visit) he did not stay for too long, bidding the room goodbye before disappearing as fast as he came. But before fully exiting the room he made sure to shoot you one last look.
“He has changed..” You whispered, thinking about the vigilant rebel you once had to deal with who somehow managed to transform into a high ranked supervisor. Never would you have thought that Hoshina would be one to play by the rules, that simply left you speechless.
From there on no day went by without him somehow finding a way to disturb your work life. He wasn't as persistent or flashy as back then but he made sure to pull you out of your little daydreams or sneak up at you when you were idly walking around the hallways.
Old habits truly never die.
If it wasn't for Okonogi taking care of you every now and then, sending you little notes in which she reminded you to eat enough or covering you up with a blanket whenever the all nighters had you falling asleep at your desk, you would have imploded from exhaustion.
Today was that kind of day. You had fallen asleep around 9pm in your small office and found yourself wrapped up in a cozy blanket. You smiled softly, rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes as you got up and folded the rug into a neat cube.
After taking a long and calculated look at the papers you had worked on before drifting off, you decided that you have truly done enough for the day and deserved to sleep in a proper bed.
Therefore you left all as it was and moved forth to exit your office. But as you pulled open the door and took the first step out, you were met with a view that had you thinking that this might be a dream after all.
Soshiro stood leaned against the wall across the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and surprise written all over his face. It seemed like neither of you had expected the other here.
“Soshiro?” It was evident in your voice that you had just woken up.
“Yer awake already?” The way he was asking the question sounded like you were not supposed to be, which left you even more confused.
“What are you doing here?” Although still tired, you did not allow yourself to ease your guard. Knowing him, he was never too tired to spit out a snarky remark or send something flying against your forehead again. But waiting for you in front of your office? That was too much, even for you.
Hoshina did not answer your question immediately, allowing it to float around in the air for a moment before picking it up again. His body moved forward, abandoning the support of the wall and inching closer to you. His arme remained locked though.
“Came to check on ya.”
“The truth please, I'm too tired for this.”
“I ain't lying..don't make this awkward.”
The sudden switch up in his demeanor from sarcastic to soft already made the situation awkward enough, but fortunately for him, you were indeed too tired to properly react. And you could not deny, his softness did manage to peak your interest.
“Yer always doing the most, putting effort into tasks that did not need all that endeavor. I already knew when I first saw ya here that yer were going to burn that little skull of yers out.” His fingers, surprise to none, poked your forehead, slightly pushing you back. You groaned, ready to go off on him but he cut you off.
“So I came to check on ya..every now and then. Maybe, I don't know, because I felt bad for stuff.. “ Hoshina did not finish that sentence, he didn't have to, his emotions were written all over his face.
His words took your mind into a distant space where nothing made sense and all that was floated around in the atmosphere. Hoshina changed. It took him a decade and fragments of his old persona remained but he was not entirely the same anymore. Little you would have died to experience this moment.
Wait a second..
“So those notes and the food on my desk– and the blankets..that was you?” The only reply the man was able to give you was a subtle nodding of his head.
And in exactly that moment your heart skipped a beat.
You immediately felt repulsed. The fact that he of all people was the cause for your fastened heartbeat was a difficult thought to stomach but somewhere, deep down, you were smiling.
“Oh, yer pigtails came undone while ya were asleep.” Hoshina acknowledged, trying to divert the gravity of this conversation to another point. The tension had indeed become so thick it was almost palpable.
“Oh no..I took them out after a certain someone mocked me for them today. He said something along the lines about how they're not fit for such a serious work environment.” You shot him a judgy look and rolled your eyes to which he replied with scoff.
“I was just joking, ya gotta stop taking everything so seriously. Besides,” Soshiros's hands suddenly moved up to your hair, caressing it in gentle motions.
“I think they look cute. Always have.”
He was teasing you again, he had to be. The gentle smile on his face and the soft blush that hushed over his cheeks, he must be toying with you, right? Just like back then in kindergarten, where he would add cute hair clips into your hair without you noticing at first or changing your name cards so you would sit next to him during lunch, he was simply goofing around. After all, old habits don't die.
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a/n: me: I have no motivation to write but here is a 3k slowburn fic guys 🥺 lol idk what came over me but the words for this fic just appeared out of nowhere (hope this keeps up)
The city (tumblr) needs me so I hope I will be able to provide you guys with more hoshina content and I also hoped you enjoyed this piece! Not much romance but a little something at the end 😼 consider this a warm up.
Btw I have absolutely no idea how a taglist works, I just tagged random people who interact with my content ^^ (hope you guys don't mind)
See you next time!!
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greensagephase · 8 months ago
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For Better or Worse - Part 1
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Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Your siblings are marrying in two weeks and as the best man and maid of honor, Miguel and you are dragged to the dance lessons for moral support despite disliking each other. There, you're forced to pretend to be a couple. Word Count: 3k Warnings: slightly suggestive comments from the dance instructor, so MDNI; reader speaks and understands Spanish; unnamed sister for reader; reader and Miguel are grumpy with each other, so don't expect any smooching, but there's tension, hehe A/N: this was supposed to be a simple thought based on a movie scene (vid below the cut) that turned into something longer (a blessing and a curse). Thank you for reading! Masterlist
Source: The Wedding Date (2005)
Your little sister, or not so little since she’s all grown up, found love and is now getting married to Gabriel O’Hara. You’re elated about them marrying, truly. Ever since your sister met Gabriel, you could tell they were made for each other. They’re both so sweet and kind, sometimes they remind you of Jane Bennet and Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice, too good for their own good.
They’re truly made for each other and you have to admit, Gabriel squeezed his way into your heart fairly quickly with how great he treats your sister, so it didn’t take long before you started to see him as part of the family.
But of course, a rose comes with its thorns. Or, in your case, your sister’s now fiancé, comes with a brother.
Miguel O’Hara.
You cannot stand the man.
And he cannot stand you.
That’s the one thing you have in common, the mutual dislike.
You finally met him and Gabriel’s parents when the relationship between your siblings became serious. You expected to like Gabriel’s family, and you did, everyone except Miguel. The two of you simply didn’t click. It was dislike at first sight.
Of course, you try to be polite to each other for the sake of your siblings, but when they’re not in sight, keeping an eye on either of you, your dislike is shown through scowls and narrowed eyes.
You try to stay clear from each other as much as possible, something that has become harder to do as your siblings’ relationship has turned more and more serious.
And now, the proximity will be unavoidable. Gabriel popped the question a year ago and that’s how you find yourself parked outside a dance studio, two weeks before the big day.
With you being your sister’s maid of honor and Miguel the groom’s best man, that means you’ve both been in each other’s presence more than usual to support the couple as they’ve gone through the wedding planning.
And that includes the freaking dance lessons.
As soon as everyone arrives, all four of you enter the building. Of course, Miguel and you avoid each other as you both quickly scan the place before your gazes find your siblings’ sheepish smiles towards the two of you. The sight immediately makes Miguel and you tense.
Those sheepish smiles are no good, you both know that too well. Those are the smiles of younger siblings about to ask something from you. Something neither of you are probably going to like.
“So… we asked you to come along today for moral support,” you sister starts, fidgeting with her hands.
“Because we really do need it but there’s another reason…” Gabriel adds, trailing off.
“What is it, Gabriel?” Miguel asks, his tone low with a hint of impatience.
“So… the instructor is a well known one in the community. They’re really good at what they do! It’s why we wanted to get lessons from her, but she had a tight schedule and it was looking like we almost didn’t get a spot. She said she’d only do it if we brought along another couple, unmarried if possible, but one that might potentially marry in the future. You know, as a way to get more business in the future…” Gabriel replies, offering a nervous smile.
“So, Gabri and I figured that…” your sister trails off.
Both Gabriel and your sister stare at you and Miguel, with hope in their eyes as their little plan sinks in.
“No way,” you say immediately, declining anything related to Miguel.
“Aw, please. It’s just a dance lesson. Just for today! Two hours at the most,” your sister tries.
“No.”
“You guys just need to act nice with each other, that’s all. Easy,” Gabriel says, shrugging as if he’s never ran into someone he didn’t like, which might actually be true. “I mean - we’re family now. Not officially, yet,” Gabriel adds giving his future wife a smile that shows pure love. “Very soon, just two more weeks and finally.”
Miguel and you watch, your siblings forgetting for about five seconds about death glares they’re receiving as of right now.
Yes, they’re really too good for their own good. Or, maybe they’re just using their younger sibling privilege and the fact that they’re in love to get their older siblings to give in.
At last, Gabriel turns again as if he just now realizes - or feels - the glares.
“We’re basically family now. You’re going to see each other more often, unless you plan on not attending any family gatherings from here on now, or making some rotating schedule on who gets to go when. It’s just a dance practice, please,” Gabriel pleads, trying to reason with you.
“Gabriel, no,” Miguel says annoyed, exasperated that he and your sister would even think about this considering the fact that neither he nor you like each other.
“Please, if you don’t, she might cancel the session, or charge us double, or something.”
“She can’t do that,�� you say. “Can she?”
“Please,” Gabriel and your sister say in unison, something they do a lot, which kind of annoys you sometimes, to be honest.
“It’s not like we’re asking you to kiss. Just - act like a couple,” you sister says. “Please, just for today.”
Miguel and you are both about to tell your siblings why this is inadequate, but you only manage to open your mouths before a woman comes in with a too cheerful smile on her face, stopping you from proceeding. Her presence in the room suddenly shuts all debating, leaving no room for Miguel and you to reiterate that neither of you wish to do this.
“Wonderful! Two couples. My name is Lyla,” she says turning to Miguel and you. “I’m your dance instructor. Let’s not waste any time, yes? The wedding is in two weeks! We need to start working immediately. Everybody, on the floor, please. Let’s go, you two as well, don’t be shy now.” Lyla walks over, immediately pushing Miguel and you forward. “You can be shy in each other’s arms, let’s go.”
You briefly wonder how this woman has so much strength to push the two of you into the floor but that’s quickly forgotten as she continues to speak.
“There. Ah - I see our engaged couple is ready to go,” she comments, making Miguel and you turn to find your siblings already in position, ready to dance. “Let me get these two going, they’re sooooo shy,” Lyla comments with a soft smirk, motioning to Miguel and you.
You both scowl when you hear your siblings laugh, something that cuts their laughter short and turn away.
“Sir, you need to place your hand right here. On your woman’s waist, come on, I’m sure you’ve held her before,” Lyla instructs, grabbing his wrist and placing it on your waist, making it so that Miguel’s hand grips you. Unused to his touch, you squirm when you feel Miguel’s warm hand on you. You try backing away but Lyla only pushes you forward, into Miguel’s touch.
“My, you two are really shy,” she says as she takes your hand and places it on Miguel’s shoulder, allowing you to feel his broad muscles beneath his top. “You need to learn to embrace each other. It’s intimacy.” She pushes you both together now, forcing Miguel to take more steps towards you. Again, you question how much strength Lyla has to move you like straw dolls, especially a man like Miguel. Maybe you’re both so dumbfounded by this situation, your bodies are just doing as she says, pushing you into this abnormal situation. The only sense of normalcy comes from the glares Miguel and you are shooting at each other. “Dancing is like - making love, I’m sure you two know what I’m talking about,” Lyla says before her eyebrows shoot up, thinking of something. “Unless you’re waiting for marriage then… that’s a tough one, but I think you might have an idea of what I mean.” At that, Lyla grins at the two of you.
Miguel and you silently groan at the thought of you two making love, meanwhile Gabriel and your sister are laughing in the back. You turn and give them a glare, same from Miguel, shutting them up.
“I can see you’re both tense. There’s so much - so much tension between you,” Lyla says, hand on her chin as if contemplating something deeply. “It’s that kind of tension only found in the bedroom, you know? Hm… Alright, you’’l be the leader. That means you lead the dance, sir,” she says patting Miguel’s arm.
You turn at that because why does he get to lead you?
“Why does he lead?” you ask, eyebrow raised.
“Uhh - okay, I see it now,” Lyla says with a smile, as if everything makes sense now. “That’s why there’s so much tension. You’re both - very dominant. I suppose you’re both - you switch, right? You’re switches?”
“What?” Miguel says with knitted eyebrows and a slightly opened mouth due to the shock because there’s no way this lady just asked that, right?
“Excuse me?” you manage to say, equally appalled.
“You take turns,” Lyla explains. “On who is dominant In the bedroom. The question is who will be the dominant one on the dance floor.”
You turn to look at Miguel, brows knitted. Not only are you being forced to pretend to be his partner but now you’re apparently “switches” and fighting for who dominates who. It’s stupid, you know that, but this has turned into a competition of sorts, and there’s no way you’re letting Miguel O’Hara lead you, even if it’s pretend.
“I assure you, it’ll be me. Just like how it is in the bedroom,” you state which earns you a squeeze from Miguel’s hand on your waist.
“We both know that’s not the case, amor [love],” Miguel replies through gritted teeth.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Lyla pipes in between you, amused. “I love your energy, though. Alright, time to dance!”
You exhale heavily. Just why did your sister have to drag you into this? Oh right, you’re her maid of honor and the man with his hand on your waist right now is the best man.
You’re stuck in this situation now, whether you like it or not. So, Miguel and you stand like two stiff boards against each other, meanwhile your younger siblings are in another dimension of rainbows and love. They already forgot about their older siblings since they got away with their little plan.
You sigh again and turn to face Miguel, standing in front of each other, like two statues. As the minutes have ticked by with Lyla’s talk about intimacy and dominance, your fingers are now interlaced, though neither of you have noticed yet.
“Just dance, guys. I want to see what I’m working with here,” Lyla says, hands on her hips as she watches the scene in front of her, music playing in the background now.
Stiffly, Miguel and you begin to move, taking steps side by side for a good minute or so before you look up at him. Staring at hm, you notice he seems… tense. Despite yourself, you can’t help but poke fun at him.
“¿Qué pasa, Miguel? ¿Tienes dos pies izquierdos? [What's up, Miguel? You have two left feet?]” You ask mockingly, which earns yourself a half scowl because Lyla is watching you.
Miguel grips your fingers and waist as you continue to dance. You still have a soft smirk on your face, satisfied with Miguel’s annoyance when suddenly, you’re tripping over his foot. Your breath hitches as you feel yourself falling but before that happens, you feel Miguel’s wrapped arm around your waist tighten, catching you. To further annoy you, he expertly uses his other hand and maneuvers you so that your back is leaning on his arm now, with you looking up at him as he leans down. For about three or four seconds, his dark eyes bore into yours before he spins you back to face him correctly.
Annoyed, you return the gesture and slam your foot on his, causing him to grimace in pain. Holding your hand, he pushes you back with a scowl before pulling you back harshly.
“Para tu información, princesa, sé bailar [for your information, little princess, I know how to dance],” he murmurs, staring down at you.
“Hm, I wonder where from? You never dance at parties.”
“And you do? All you do is sit at the table like you’re too good to accept any man’s offer for a dance,” Miguel replies as you move across the dance floor.
Somewhere, your siblings are already receiving help from Lyla, who’s instructing them on proper hand placement.
“And you? You stand around with the other men, talking about God knows what.”
“Women, of course,” Miguel sarcastically replies as he spins you around before bringing you back to him. “We talk about the women dancing and the ones who don’t, either because they’re too shy to dance, or just snobs, como tu… comprenderas [like you... understand, comprehend].”
You scoff. “Is that them, or your personal opinion of me?” you ask, pulling back from him, hands still joined.
Miguel snickers and pulls you back, your chest slamming right into his. You scowl in response. “Quiero decirte algo [I want to tell you something].” He spins you around again. “We are going to make this work.”
“Make what work?”
“This,” Miguel says as he pulls you back in. He stares at you while you keep dancing. “I’m not going to miss out on my brother’s life. Gabriel and I are close, always have been. I have no intentions of stepping out and missing out on his life, him building a life with your sister.” He turns you around, pressing your back to his chest, his arms crossed over your body, as if keeping you locked in them to ensure you’ll listen clearly. “I’m going to be there, at every family gathering. If they have children, you better bet I’m going to be there at every birthday party, or soccer game. So, I want you to know that right now. We’re either going to make this work, or you’ll be missing out, because I’m not stepping out.”
You scoff again, and to his great annoyance and astonishment, free yourself from his arms to face him once more. You place a hand on his chest, leading him back.
“I have no intentions of missing out, O’Hara. Don’t even think about it. Being part of my sister’s life heavily outweighs the annoyance of seeing your unpleasant face.”
Miguel scoffs and wraps his large hand around your wrist before he pulls you forward, your faces mere inches from each other.
“Unpleasant face? You must be blind, princesita [little princess]. Maybe I ought to take you somewhere to get those pretty eyes checked if that’s how you see my face,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.
You snort and pull back. “You’re not everyone’s cup of tea, O’Hara, but I digress. I’m going to be part of my sister’s life, too. So, get used to it.”
Miguel smirks, pulling you right back against his chest. “For better or worse, we'll tolerate each other. For them,” he murmurs, staring right into your eyes.
“For them,” you agree, meeting his gaze.
For the first time, you really look into his eyes. You’ve never been quite this close to the man, not enough to appreciate their color - a deep brown with a slight maroon undertone. You see the gentle wrinkles under his eyes and forehead, probably from his job as the CEO from some company you've never bothered to learn the name of. A quick peek at his slightly parted mouth allows you to really notice the plump lips. You’ve never noticed it before, but one side of his upper lip is higher than the other, adding to the full lips. You even manage to notice a crooked tooth at the front of his teeth, something that makes you pause internally for some reason.
In a society worried all about looks, Miguel hasn't had that fixed. You glance back into Miguel's eyes but his are somewhere else, somewhere around your mouth. You don’t have enough time to question why his eyes are there though.
His eyes meet yours again, his throat showing a visible gulp as the image of your lips flashes in his head. Staring at your eyes, he once again takes notice of your eye color and the way your eyelashes frame your eyes, something he’s noticed before.
“That!”
Miguel and you instantly pull away, releasing each other. Lyla quickly approaches you, smiling.
“That's the look I was hoping for,” she says. “A look of pure passion, tension, sexiness… love” she says, giddily. “That’s the way to dance! Oh, I have no doubt you two will know exactly how to dance when your wedding date comes. I have seen enough. Take five while I revisit my initial plan, our engaged couple needs a little more help than you two,” Lyla says giving you both a wink. “There’s a lot of love there but they can’t dance to save their lives, unlike you two. If you want to take a seat and just talk, you lovebirds.” Lyla nods and heads off to your siblings, immediately laying out what needs work.
Miguel and you stand side by side, watching in silence for a few seconds before Miguel breaks the silence.
“I need to make - a work call. I’ll be outside while they get finished,” he says, pulling out his cell phone.
“Sure, you go and do that,” you reply, staring at the other three people, not sparing Miguel a glance.
He faces you, watching you for a few seconds as if expecting you to say anything else, or maybe waiting for you to face him, but you never do.
“Great,” he mutters before he walks away. A few seconds later you hear the studio’s door close.
You sigh heavily. You didn’t even know you were holding your breath. He’s so annoying, so - You do a little head shake, clearing your mind. You’ve both agreed to tolerate each other for the sake of your siblings - to be part of their lives.
“For better or worse,” you murmur to yourself.
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Next Part
A/N: Leaving it open-ended because this was only supposed to be a blurb and then I kept going! Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this!! <33
Edit: This became a short fic 💀
Alondra❤️
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kpop---scenarios · 8 months ago
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Reckless (1)
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Pairing: Lee Know x Reader
Genre: Brothers best friend
Warning: Language, a little violence etc, smut later on
Word Count: 3k
“Jisung!” You yell from your room, covering your ears with your pillow. If he didn't shut the fuck up, you were going to lose it. “Jisung!” You scream again. Angrily, you crawl out of your bed, stomping your way across the hallway to his room. You try to open the door but the door is locked. You pound on the door, anger flowing through you.
“Open the door!” You yell, pounding even harder. Finally the door swings open, your brother looking annoyed.
“The fuck do you want?” He asks, rubbing his face.
“I have an exam tomorrow. I can't sleep with the fucking music coming from your room.” You yell. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Wear some headphones then.” Jisung scoffs.
“I swear to fucking..” you pause, as Jisungs best friends comes to the door.
“Feeling feisty tonight, are we?” Minho chuckles, moving past your brother and out of his room.
“Yeah I am, watch out.” You snap, stomping back to your room, slamming the door behind you.
Your parents had been gone for months for work, and unfortunately for you Jisung had decided to slack off at school despite school only being in for 3 months. He was partying constantly and having his degenerate friends over at the house all the time. Lee Know, or Minho was the worst of them all and he never fucking left.
He was an arrogant, annoying, selfish, violent, short tempered man who you disliked the most out of all Jisung’s friends. The two of them were a few years older than you, both supposed to be in University but the way things were currently going, you didn't know how much longer either of them were going to be enrolled. You however were in your first year at the same University and you were not going to take your opportunity for granted. You wanted to get out of this town and move away onto bigger and better things.
As the volume of the music is finally lowered, you get comfortable in your bed, easily falling asleep, finally.
The next morning you're up early, deciding payback was much needed for keeping you up half the night. As you're hopping around your room, singing along to your loud music, getting ready for class, you faintly hear a pounding on your door. You laugh to yourself as you make your way, ripping the door open, seeing an annoyed Minho standing there, shirtless with a pair of sweats on.
“It's 7am.” He deadpans.
“And?” You ask.
“I've been sleeping for 2 hours.” He groans. “Turn it down.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” you begin. “Also, last I checked, this isn't your house.” You smile, closing the door in his face before he can say anything. You head to your stereo, turning the music down, for a few minutes until you felt like he was comfortable in bed again, starting to doze off and you turned it up again. Not long after you turned it off completely, heading to the kitchen to grab a banana before you headed to the bus stop. You wanted to get to school a little earlier than usual, taking time to go over your psychology notes for your exam, one last time.
“Y/N.” You hear from behind you in the library. You turn around, seeing your best friend, Hyunjin, standing there with bags under his eyes, holding a mass amount of papers, and looking extremely uneasy.
“Hyunjin.. what happened?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the poor man looking so defeated.
“it's literally the 3rd month of school, and I'm going to fucking flunk out.” He gasps, sitting next to you.
“No you're not.” You chuckle, flipping over your notes to look at the backside.
“I tried to study all night but I kept falling asleep. Why did I come here? I hate it.” He pouts. You shake your head at the man, focusing on your notes.
“Well.” You sigh. “At this rate, I'll be failing with you. Minho was at my house again last night. He and Jisung were blasting music until all hours.” You say, rolling your eyes.
“Minho was at your house?” Your other friend, Jisoo gasps, pulling up a chair beside you. “You're so lucky.”
“He's so fucking annoying.” You retort.
“But he's so hot.” Jisoo grins.
You ignored her last comment, you didn't want to vocally agree with her, because the last thing you needed was for your words to get back to him and inflate his head more than it already was.
“And to be honest, so is your brother. Is he single?” She asks.
“He's single. But I'm going to tell you not to go there because I don't want you to stop being my friend.” You laugh. “He's a terrible human being.”
“But he's hot.” Jisoo swoons, batting her eyes at you.
“Gross.” You sigh, looking at your phone. You gather your things off the table, dragging Hyunjin behind you to your psychology classroom.
“Please, Y/N.” He begs from behind you. You turn your head to look at him, giggling at the pitiful man who is usually so confident. This exam really has him fucked up. You turn your head again to look where you're going, and bump into someone, knocking your papers and bag to the floor.
“Ugh, I'm so sorry.” You sigh, bending down to pick up your things. You look up, seeing Minho glare down at you. You roll your eyes instantly, scoffing. “Actually I'm not sorry.” You say, finishing picking everything up. You stand up, Minho still staring at you but now smiling. Hyunjin comes up beside you, swinging his arm around your shoulders.
“Come on.” He says, pulling you away from Minho, who still hadn't said a word to you, but the smile never left his face.
“You got this.” You say to Hyunjin, your hands on his shoulders as you both take deep breaths outside your classroom door.
“So do you.” He breathes. “Drinks after?” He asks. You glance at your watch, 12:58pm. You should be done by 4pm..
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You grin as the two of you make your way into the class.
3 hours later, you both emerge from the room, disheveled hair, sweat and tear stains present on both of you.
“How did..” Hyunjin starts. You put your hand up to stop him.
“Not yet. Shots..lots of shots.” You whimper. The two of you link arms, heading for the pub down the street from campus.
Hours later, you stumble home. As you stand in your yard you see lights flashing inside, and you can hear the bass thumping from the street. Jisung would throw a party on a random Thursday. That's just what he does. You quickly text Hyunjin and Jisoo to come over and party with you, both of them replying that they'll be there soon. You head inside, your brother spots you immediately.
“Y/N.. it's only just started. Don't shut me down.” He fake cries. You glare at him, seeing Minho walk up behind him. A few of his other friends were standing around, a lot of other people you didn't know also staring at you.
“Let's do some fucking shots!” You yell, making your way to the kitchen, hearing the cheers from the party goers. You walk past a chuckling Minho on your way to the kitchen. You glare at him before grabbing his sleeve, pulling him in there with you and a few others to take some shots. As you're about to do your second one, Hyunjin and Jisoo walk in. You were already drunk from your after exam drunks with Hyunjin, and now you were feeling it even more.
“Jinnie.” You squeal, putting your arms out for a hug. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Instantly you hear Jisoo’s flirty voice come to play, you break the hug to turn around and see Jisoo and Jisung tucked in a corner talking.
That made you want to vomit. You turn back towards the group taking shots, quickly pouring one for Hyunjin before you all take it. “Let's dance!” You yell, walking past Minho with Hyunjin in tow. You're dancing, laughing and just all around having a good time but you can't help but notice Minho standing against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on you. They roamed up and down your body as he watched you dance, and you hated that the way he was looking at you, that the way he was biting his lip was turning you on so much.
“I'm gonna get a drink.” You tell Hyunjin, making your way to the kitchen. You feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you down the hallway instead.
“You looked really hot out there.” a guy tells you. You have no clue who this dude was, and frankly you were not interested.
“Thanks.” You respond, turning back towards the kitchen.
He grabs you again. “I wasn't done talking to you.” He half laughs.
You can feel the annoyance building up inside of you. “But I'm done.” You say, trying to walk away again. His grip tightens, pushing you against the wall.
“I'm trying to get to know you better.” He scoffs. “Don't be so rude.”
“I'm not interested.” You tell him, as if your current lack of interest wasn't enough.
He stares at you, refusing to move, not saying a word. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to say to you next. Before he can get his words out, he's shoved away from you, sliding down the floor of the hallway. Your mouth hangs open as you turn to look and see who your savior was.
Minho stands there, his eyes practically shooting daggers into the man.
“Are you fucking dumb, Changbin?” Minho asks.
“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin scoffs, scrambling up off the floor.
“That's Jisung's little sister you fucking moron.” Minho snaps, pointing at you.
“Oh shit.. I'm sorry! I didn't know!” He panics. Your eyes bounce between the two men, not sure why Changbin sounded so scared of your idiot brother.
“I'll let you off this time.” Minho starts. “If I catch you near her again, I will beat the fucking shit out of you.” He finishes. Changbin nods his head before running off into the crowd.
“You okay?” Minho asks as you rub your wrist. You nod your head.
“Yeah.. thanks.” You smile, returning to the party. The rest of the night, wherever you went, Minho was there, off in the distance watching you. You weren't uncomfortable from it but you did wish that he would go and enjoy himself. He didn't need to keep an eye on you, and as you got drunker, you decided to let him know.
“You.. keep staring.” You hiccup, placing your hand on the wall by his head. He smirks as he looks at you, barely able to stand up straight, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were a goddamn mess.
“Let's get you to bed, mhm?” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you up the stairs. As you're walking up, you unfortunately see Jisung and Jisoo locking lips, making all the drinks you had all night threaten to come up.
“Get a room you sick fucks.” You slur, walking past them. Jisoo comes up for air looking embarrassed but only for a second before Jisung steals her attention back. Minho helps you to your room, you stand in the middle, your arms up high. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the fuck you were waiting for.
“I can't sleep in my clothes.” You whine. “but I'll fall if I undress myself.” You pout.
Minho reluctantly walks towards you, grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your pants. He moves his hands down towards the button of your jeans. You hop back a little, almost losing your balance as you laugh, hysterically.
“Funny.” He fake chuckles, moving towards you again. You grab onto his arm, spinning yourself around to his back, sliding your hands up and down his body. You reach around to his stomach, moving your hands under his shirt, running them over his abs.
“Ugh.” You groan at the feeling.
He quickly turns around facing you once again, a smile spread across his face. You knew he wanted to be mad at you but he couldn't.
“Take your pants off or I'm gonna throw you down onto the bed and take them off for you.” He threatens. You blush, hard.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Minho reaches out for you, grabbing you by the waist of your jeans, pulling you towards him. “It's a little of both.” He tells you as he tries to undo your button. You were having too much fun in the moment, you didn't want it to end just yet. You grab his hands, pushing him away from you, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair. He has never seen this giggling playful side of you before, and he was enjoying the fuck out of it.
“Y/N.” He says sternly, his hands on his hips.
“Minho.” You say, putting your hands on your hips, pushing your hip out, pursing your lips. He's trying to remain serious but he can't. He starts laughing as he rubs his face, groaning in frustration.
“Take off your pants!” He yells.
“Yes sir!” You giggle as you take off your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. Minho hands you a pair of pj shorts that he grabbed from your dresser. You semi quickly put them on before turning around, facing away from him to unhook your bra. It slides down your body, onto the floor. You smile to yourself.
“I bet you're upset, huh?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him.
“Why would I be upset?” He asks.
“Cause you can't see my boobies.” You laugh, turning slightly to show him a little side boob. “I think you'd like them.” You say, looking at him. His eyes are focused down, looking at what you're showing him. “Tsk tsk, naughty boy.” You scold, slipping your shirt on, turning around to face him.
He stares at you, and you stare back. You examine his face, his large veiny arms and hands, his roughly tousled hair.
“Jisoo was right.” You whisper.
“About?” He asks.
“You.” You hiccup. “She said you were hot.”
“And what did you say?” He asks.
“I didn't say. Cause I don't need my words going to your thick ass head.” You giggle.
“If they wouldn't go to my head, what would you say?” He asks.
“That you're really fucking hot. But you're a little violent and hot headed.” You sigh. “Buuut you're not allowed to know that so shhh.. cause Jisung said you're off limits.”
“Since when do you do what your brother tells you?” He laughs.
“I listen to him!” you say. No you didn't. “Actually, never.” You hiccup.
He doesn't reply. He stands there, staring at you. You can feel your breath hitch as he moves closer towards you, the palm of his hand gently laying on your cheek as his face moves closer to yours. You close your eyes, the world is spinning as you feel his lips press against yours. You feel like you're melting into the kiss as your lips move against his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, deepening the kiss.
You could have sworn this was a dream, like his lips were perfectly made for your own. He slowly pulls away, turning to look at the door, and that's when you hear it.
“Minho!”
It's your brother's voice. “Lee fucking Know!” He yells.
“Go to sleep.” He says to you, turning and walking out of your room. You lay down in your bed, closing your eyes. The world only spins for a moment before you pass out.
**
“I'm never drinking again.” You gasp as you crawl out of your bed, desperately trying to make your way to the bathroom to get some water. Your throat was the driest it had ever been and you felt like you might actually die. Once you reach the sink, you shove your head underneath, drinking all the cold water you could get into your mouth. Fuck it tastes good. When you're finally satisfied, you drag your feet to change into some comfier clothes before heading downstairs. Luckily you didn't have class until the afternoon today, so you could try to recover this morning. You grab some food from the fridge, eating it cold, ignoring the passed out people scattered around your house.
“Morning.” You hear. You turn to look, seeing Minho walk into the kitchen, heading for the fridge.
“Morning.” You sigh.
“Hungover?” He asks you, grabbing some juice. You whimper as you nod your head. He laughs. You turn to glare at him, when suddenly you remembered. You think you remembered at least.
“Did..” you pause. “We.. um.. actually nevermind.” You say, turning away from him.
“Did we, what?” He asks, grinning.
“Kiss?” You whisper, looking around, making sure Jisung wasn't around.
“Me and you?” He asks, shocked. “Did you have a sex dream about me?” He gasps, placing his hand over his chest.
“What!? No! I just had a flash.. of something.. and we were kissing.” You try to explain.
“I feel so violated.” He fake cries. “I wasn't aware you thought of me like that.”
“Who's thinking of you like what?” You hear. Jisung walks into the kitchen, grabbing your food off the counter.
“Y/N.” Minho says. “I think she's into me.” He laughs.
“Yeah right.” Jisung chuckles. “Neither of you are dumb enough to do that.”
You look at Minho as he looks at you. Neither of you were dumb enough.. right?
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wannabespacesmuggler · 1 month ago
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D.D. | Shane's Girl [10]
Part Ten | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist
Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader
Warnings: Shane Walsh is the worst, angst, canon violence, mentions of tobacco use, chapter follows “Tell it to the Frogs” but dialogue and events are paraphrased.
Word Count: 3K
Author’s Note: Me posting twice in a week? Unheard of. I've just been feeling very inspired for this story and this chapter just took on a life of it's own. I try to keep these chapter under 2,000 words, but this one is a tad longer. Hope you all enjoy! As always I would love to hear what y'all think.
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After an eventful night around the campfire, you return to your empty tent. A part of you was thankful when Shane told the group that he was taking watch tonight, but another part of you recognizes that he’s simply trying to delay the inevitable. You’re just not sure you’re ready for that conversation right now. Not after the whiplash of emotions you experienced today: from the joy of one of your best friends returning from the dead to the devastation you felt for Daryl at the realization that Merle didn’t make it back from Atlanta. 
You had asked about the older Dixon’s absence during a lull in the conversation after you’d all finished dinner. Rick explained what had happened in Atlanta, and though you understood why he chose to handcuff Merle on the roof, your heart broke for Daryl. When you asked if they planned to return to the city for him, you were met by a scoff from Shane and a mumbled good riddance under his breath. His reaction made you sick to your stomach. You may not care for Merle Dixon, but Daryl does. And for all you know, he’s the only family that Daryl has left. 
The prolonged silence that ensued after your question was an answer in itself. They didn’t plan on going back for him. 
You lie down on your cot, sighing as you stare into the darkness above you. Your mind is still racing at the realization of Shane’s infidelity. You hadn’t gotten a chance to process the insinuation during the constant commotion this evening, but now that you were alone, it’s all you can think about. You roll over, closing your eyes and hoping that some sleep will give you a clearer perspective on your dilemma. But even though today took pretty much everything out of you, sleep never seemed further away. The idea of holding onto all of this alone is exhausting, but who are you supposed to talk to right now? Rick and Lori just got each other back. You barely know Glenn and Dale. And even though you’re friends with Andrea and Amy, anything told to the sisters tends to spread through the camp like wildfire. You wish Daryl was here. 
But then there’s your second problem. How do you explain to Daryl that the group left his brother in Atlanta? And how will he respond? Daryl’s just started opening up to you, and you’re depending on that budding friendship now more than ever. You’re afraid he will pull away from the group due to the betrayal. And you wouldn’t blame him — betrayal weighs heavy on your heart right now. 
You let out another sigh as you turn onto your back. You pull your thin blanket over your head, trying to physically block out the thoughts spiraling inside of your brain. In an attempt to calm yourself down, you pull Dale’s book out of your backpack and ignite your small flashlight. You open the book to where you left off, but instead of getting further into the novel, your eyes drift to the crumpled piece of paper acting as your placeholder. Finally, you drift off rereading Daryl’s hastily written note. 
When you wake, you’re met with rays of morning sunlight filtering through the flaps of your tent. You blink the grogginess out of your eyes. Even though you slept more than usual last night, your body feels like it didn’t get any rest. You gather your strength and manage to get off of your small cot, groaning as your feet connect with the ground. Hopefully, you’ll feel better once you busy yourself with something to do around camp. 
Exiting your tent, you’re met with a surprisingly empty camp. Your brow furrows as you sweep the area, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as your eyes land on Rick talking to Carol by the RV. Having Rick Grimes back in your life still feels like a dream. You make your way up to the pair, and Rick glances over your way. 
“You look as tired as I feel.”
Although his words are said in a humorous tone, his eyes hold a look of genuine concern. The small smile on your face grows a bit wider at the sight. Rick Grimes isn’t your blood, but you’ve considered him your family since you befriended Lori all those years ago.
“Just a restless night, I suppose.”
You attempt to brush off the concern nonchalantly. The last thing you want to do is worry Rick as he’s settling back in with his friends and family. But even though he lets out a warm chuckle at your response, the concern etched into his features doesn’t dissipate. Rick opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by a woman screaming. The two of you look toward where the sound is coming from, somewhere off in the surrounding woods, before looking back at each other with wide eyes.
“Lori…”
Without another word, the two of you race off into the woods with Carol not far behind. As you both get further into the forest, you begin to hear a medley of concerned voices. And finally, you find a small clearing with the entire group gathered around Sophia and Carl. Rick rushes over to his son, but your eyes are fixated on an inanimate walker lying beside a deer carcass. Your hand subconsciously lands on your hip and grabs the hilt of your hunting knife. Although it looks like some of the men handled the walker, you still have a sinking feeling in your stomach as your eyes rake over the jagged bite marks that trail down the deer’s neck. 
A rustling in the woods pulls your attention away from the carnage, and suddenly, everyone is on high alert. You watch as both Shane and Rick get in front of Lori and Carl, shielding them with their bodies as they draw their guns up toward the sound. Your tense shoulders relax, and a relieved sigh escapes your lips as Daryl appears from the dense forest brush. Everyone drops their weapons as Daryl raises his hands. Shane groans as he spots a handful of squirrels that Daryl has tied onto a rope in his left hand. Daryl glares at Shane for a second before his eyes land on the mangled deer lying on the forest floor.
“Son of a bitch!”
Daryl approaches the deer, angrily muttering about how he’d been tracking it for miles. He kicks the deer in frustration and drops to a knee to assess the damage the walker has done. 
“I was gonna drag it back to camp — cook us all up some venison. What do you think? Think we could cut around the chewed-up parts?”
Daryl’s proposal earns him several disgusted groans, and Shane responds. 
“I wouldn’t risk it, man.”
Daryl sighs disappointedly before standing up from the deer. He wipes off his hands on the front of his jeans. His eyes harden slightly as he looks over at Shane. 
“That’s a damn shame. Got some squirrel though — that’ll have to make due.”
From behind him, the walker begins groaning and Daryl rolls his eyes as multiple people cry out in horror. In one swift motion he swings his crossbow from behind his back and shoots the walker square between the eyes. Daryl’s eyes scan the small crowd that has gathered around all of the commotion. His posture relaxes ever-so-slightly as his eyes meet yours. He gives you a subtle nod — a small gesture you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead of nodding back, you drop your eyes to the ground. You’re not quite sure how to face him right now — overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment over your current predicament with Shane and guilt that you didn’t go to Atlanta after learning about Merle. Realistically, you know that there’s no way that you could go on a lone rescue mission to the city to save Merle, but you still feel like you should have done something. 
Daryl’s brow furrows, and his heart clenches at your reaction. What happened while he was gone? Daryl looks around and suddenly realizes that everyone in camp is staring at him with a disheartened expression — everyone except Merle. His eyes quickly scan the group once more before he starts making his way toward their shared tent. Everyone moves to follow him. 
“Merle! Merle, where you at?”
You move to step forward. If anyone was going to break the news about his brother, it should be someone who cares about him. But before you can speak, Shane pushes you behind him and takes the lead.
“Daryl, just slow up a bit. We need to talk to you about Merle. There was a problem in Atlanta.”
Daryl chews on his bottom lip for a second before responding. 
“He dead?”
Your heart breaks as you watch Daryl’s expression drop.
“We’re not sure.”
Daryl’s face hardens at Shane’s answer. 
“He either is or he ain’t!”
Rick puts a hand on Shane’s shoulder before things get too heated between the two hot-headed men. As Daryl’s gaze shifts from Shane to Rick and his eyes narrow. 
“Who the hell are you?”
“Rick Grimes.”
Recognition flashes in Daryl’s eyes as the name immediately reminds him of the numerous stories you’ve told him about the man you consider a brother. His gaze flickers to you briefly before shifting back to Rick. For your sake, he pushes his anger aside for a moment and chooses to listen to Rick. You watch intently as Rick explains the events that happened in Atlanta. Daryl’s nostrils flare, and his grip tightens around the squirrels he’s holding. 
“You’re tellin’ me that you handcuffed my brother on top of a roof and left him there?”
“Yeah.”
And then all hell breaks loose. Daryl throws the bundle of squirrels at Rick, causing Shane to launch himself at Daryl. You rush forward as Shane tackles Daryl to the floor. You’re yelling at Shane — begging him to get off of Daryl. As you attempt to pull Shane off of him, Shane reaches back and pushes you off of him. Daryl yells as you hit the ground hard. Rick helps you up, and there’s a collective gasp as Daryl, who has managed to get out of Shane’s hold, pulls out his hunting knife. 
“Stop it!”
You step in between the two men — back to Shane. Daryl’s chest heaves from the physical activity, and his eyes don’t leave the man behind you. 
“Daryl.”
Finally, his eyes meet yours, and his face softens ever-so-slightly. He sighs before dropping the knife. You nod at him approvingly before turning to look at Shane. Although Daryl seems to have settled down, Shane is still fuming. His gaze is like daggers as he continues to stare at Daryl. T-Dog steps forward to diffuse the situation. 
“I dropped the key, but I locked the door. Nothing should be able to get in there — we just have to go back.”
You hear Daryl grunt from behind you. As you turn to face him, he’s chewing on his bottom lip again. You can practically see the gears turning his head. 
“Just tell me where he is so I can go get him.”
“I’ll go back with you.”
Lori clenches her jaw at Rick’s words, obviously upset by her husband’s decision. T-Dog nods at Rick’s words before stating he’ll join them. Shane mutters a string of expletives under his breath as Rick glances around the group. His eyes land on Glenn, and he shifts his feet nervously.
“Really, man?”
“You know the city better than anybody. It’d make me feel safer knowing you’re there with me.”
Glenn hesitates for a moment before nodding. Rick gives him a small smile, and Shane lets out an exasperated sigh.
“So that’s your big plan, man? You, T-Dog, Glenn, and Daryl?”
“And me.”
Suddenly, everyone’s eyes land on you. Shane’s expression hardens as his eyes meet yours. His gaze is ice cold, but you don’t back down. 
“The hell you are!”
“I’m going, Shane.”
Shane huffs before taking several steps toward you.
“Are you outta your goddamn mind? This is Merle Dixon we’re talking about.”
You glance back over your shoulder at Daryl who is nervously shifting from one foot to the other. He’s watching the interaction attentively. Just like always, he’s prepared to step in if Shane loses his cool.
“He’s still human, Shane. He deserves better than to die handcuffed on top of a roof like a rabid animal.”
Shane’s expression tightens as his gaze briefly shifts between you and Daryl. His gaze eventually focuses back on you and his eyes narrow. 
“You’re really gonna do this for him?”
He juts his chin towards Daryl, and you let out a dry laugh due to the absurdity of this conversation. Everyone’s watching the stand-off between you and Shane intently — you’d be embarrassed by the attention if you weren’t so angry. 
“This doesn’t have anything to do with him, alright? It’s about doing the right thing.”
Shane takes another menacing step forward. You know what he’s doing — he’s trying to intimidate you into submission, but you’re done with this. He squares his shoulders as he towers over you, but instead of cowering, you stand your ground.
“That’s bullshit. If you leave with them, we’re done.”
His voice is seething. He’s desperately trying to regain control of the situation — the ultimatum is proof of that.
“We’ve been done, Shane.”
You turn to leave the conversation, but Shane reaches out and grabs your wrist. The grip he has on you is bone-breaking, and you let out a surprised yelp as he pulls you back towards him. Immediately, Daryl springs into action. A low, threatening growl rumbles in his throat as he moves toward you.
“Don’t fucking touch her.”
Shane’s grip tightens at Daryl’s warning. You squirm due to the pain shooting up your arm. You desperately try to wriggle out of Shane’s grasp, but it’s too tight.
“Stay out of this. She isn’t yours.”
“Are you deaf? She ain’t yours either.”
Before Shane can react, Rick grabs his shoulder. He looks at you and Shane with wide eyes, obviously confused about what has happened between you both during his absence.
“Brother, what are you doing?”
Finally, Shane releases his grip, and you immediately backstep away from him. Daryl places a gentle hand on your shoulder and moves you further away from Shane. Rick’s brow furrows in confusion as he watches Daryl precautiously step in front of you. He’s obviously missing something here. The last time he saw you both — before the accident, before the coma — you were laughing with each other during dinner at Rick and Lori’s. He remembers your joy. But now you’re looking at his best friend with nothing but discontent. And Daryl, the man that Shane warned Rick about last night, is the one protecting you from a man you shouldn’t fear. Rick shakes his head before addressing the rest of the group. 
“Alright everyone, the show’s over. Let’s all cool off for a bit, okay?”
The group begins to wander off in different directions. But Daryl and Shane continue to stare each other down until Rick grabs Shane’s shoulder again.
“Shane, let’s go.”
It sounds more like a warning than a suggestion. Finally, Shane tears his eyes away from Daryl and stomps into camp. Rick gives you one last apologetic look before following after his best friend. You let out a sigh of relief and let your shoulders drop as the tense encounter finally ends. Daryl turns to face you, and his eyes immediately drop to your wrist, which is already beginning to bruise.
“You ‘lright?”
You nod wordlessly, still overwhelmed by everything that just happened. Daryl moves you back toward a fallen log to sit you down before he cautiously grabs your wrist. You’re so far away right now you don’t even respond to the touch. He drops down on one knee and gently assesses the damage that Shane caused, making sure nothing’s broken. Once Daryl is content with his assessment, he meets your eyes. His expression is brimming with worry as he searches your face. 
“You sure you’re ‘lright?”
Finally, you meet his eyes, and Daryl’s heart breaks at the sight of your broken appearance. He’s overwhelmed by his need to protect you — a feeling that’s becoming increasingly common for him as he spends more time with you. This time, you simply shake your head. Honestly, you have no idea what you feel right now. 
Daryl nods and takes a seat beside you. He feels like a fucking idiot. He never should have left you here for so long — not after everything you told him about Shane, everything he’s observed over the weeks you’ve spent in camp together. Before he can kick himself further, you speak again.
“It’s over, right?”
Daryl looks at you softly and nods.
“It’s over.”
“But he’s still…”
“You ain’t gotta worry about him anymore. I promise you, I ain’t gonna let him do anything to you. Not anymore.”
You’re overwhelmed by the sincerity in his tone and the devotion in his eyes. He promises to protect you like he’s taking an oath. And for the first time since he left on his hunting trip, you feel safe. You nod, honestly believing that Daryl would put himself in harms way for your own well-being. Hell, he already did. You lean back against the fallen log and Daryl reaches into his pocket before wordlessly offering you a cigarette. A warm laugh bubbles in your chest at the gesture and Daryl wishes he could record the sound. You take the cigarette and give him a small smile.
“You’re a bad influence, Dixon.”
A smirk pulls at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he hands you a lighter. You take it graciously and Daryl watches you light the cigarette between your lips. You hand the lighter back to him before taking a long drag.
Goddamn.
He always thought those cowboy killers would kill one day — but he was wrong. You’re going to be the death of him and he’s okay with that. Because he can’t think of a more wonderful way to go.
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cobaltperun · 9 months ago
Text
Genius - All I Want
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Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader
Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.
Story masterlist / Next part
Word count: 3k
-All I want is a place to call my own, to mend the hearts of everyone who feels alone-
There was nothing quite as comforting as the freedom of an open road and the clear night sky above you. It was peaceful, though lonely sometimes.
“Well, you’re still as creepy as you were when I was a child,” you said as you watched the dense forest covering the hill ahead of you. Lovell Hill certainly didn’t get any more inviting since you last visited the forsaken small village you were born in. And it certainly didn’t look any more inviting in the middle of the night, close to midnight.
At least you didn’t have to go on foot.
That would be kinda scary, even now that you were technically an adult. At least as far as age went, yeah, you were an adult. You hardly had the life experience needed to call yourself that, though you did spend the last two years away from your parents and the safety they provided. You turned sixteen and took off on your Yamaha Star Venture, staying at one place only long enough to finish one semester at school and then moving on.
Why did you suddenly decide to come back? To this small village in Tennessee? You weren’t sure, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe you wanted to come back and see how much you changed, to measure yourself to the place that shaped your childhood, now with a different outlook on life. Like a frog from a well that learned of the ocean and yearned for the calm of its well, at least for a short while, at least until you closed the chapter of your life called high school.
The road ahead of you narrowed as you entered the dense forest, the sky above you vanished, and the only source of light came from your motorcycle. How long has it been since you ran through this forest as a child, playing hide and seek without a care in the world, without any pressure, creeped out by the random sounds and shadows, but happy to be with your friend. That was so long ago, you weren’t even going to school back then.
As you drove on you saw the lights ahead of you, and you knew exactly what they were. A lone light coming from one room of a huge mansion, the only one on the hill that was still occupied back when you still lived here. From the looks of it that didn’t change. You didn’t look at the mansion though, you just drove past it. The only person you’d be interested in seeing from that mansion probably no longer lived there. She was too good to be stuck in this small village. You remained unaware that someone in that mansion caught a glimpse of you riding by, confused and intrigued by the random person passing by.
~X~
The random biker passing through the Lovell Hill reignited her muse as her fingers glided across her keyboard. Where were they going? Where did they come from? What made them take the road few traveled? Cairo didn’t know, but she liked to imagine the strange traveler. Perhaps they were familiar with the area, confident in their ability to take a shortcut across the hill. Or perhaps they took a wrong turn and she’d soon hear the roar of the engine coming back.
Maybe it would wake her up when she finally tries to fall asleep.
Lonely girl, in a lonely place, longing for some kind of connection, for more than she already had, even if it was just a moment, she’d forget sooner rather than later. She still typed away, contemplating the biker’s decision to pass through the haunting dense forest, all the while feeling the tiny legs crawling up her bare calf. The cigarette she lit just before she picked up on the sound of the motorcycle slowly burned away, forgotten just like she was.
~X~
You parked your motorcycle in the garage, next to your parents’ car and took a deep breath. You were back home, because, truly, nowhere else ever felt as much like home as rural Tennessee. It’s been six years since you moved out with your parents, but they kept the house, kept it clean and took care of the car so everything was set for them when they visited to escape their jobs every few months or so.
It wasn’t a huge mansion, especially compared to the one you just passed, but it was a fairly big, two-story house, with several bedrooms and plenty of space in the living room, as well as a very nice, well-furnished kitchen. The pictures were still hanging on the walls as you stepped inside and took your boots off. Some were from your birthdays, some from your first day at school, some were you and Cairo, or her parents and your parents. They were all attorneys, so of course you and Cairo ended up spending a lot of time together as kids. Well, you did until you started going to school. You placed the backpack you packed your entire life in on the floor of the living room, and a bit too exhausted to go and set up a bed in your childhood room, you just crashed on the sofa and used your motorbike jacket as makeshift cover.
The house still had an admirable book collection, mostly for show though. You read as a child, there wasn’t much else to do here, but most of the books were just bought for show, never to be opened. But, they were there and they gave the house a certain aesthetic, you guessed.
As you looked at the books you noticed an old copy of ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ by Jules Verne sticking out like a sore thumb with the damaged and stained spine separating it from the well-kept pristine condition of most of the books around it. How many times did you and Cairo read that as children? You smiled at that, promising silently to get the spine fixed up a bit. Just enough for it not to fall apart the next time someone took it, but not to the point of downright replacing it. You wanted to preserve the memories, but that was a task for another day. For now, you just closed your eyes and drifted off,
~X~
Two days later you found yourself in the vice principal’s office, just filling out the last few papers to finalize your transfer.
“You can attend classes right away, miss L/N,” vice principal Manor told you as you signed the final document.
“Right, and the locker?” you asked, ready to put away your helmet and not carry it around at all times.
The woman just slid a key toward you with a copy of your schedule. “Here you go.”
You nodded, smiling gratefully and getting up with your copies of the documents and the things your were given in hand.
“Oh, and welcome back,” vice principal told you.
She knew your parents, as they were very active in the community while they still lived here. It was the connections they still had that allowed you to make such an abrupt decision and transfer on such a short notice.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you still found it a bit awkward when people much older than you acted friendly toward you because of your parents. You understood, but you also felt they only saw your parents’ child, and not you yourself.
“Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me,” vice principal Manor justified your feelings on the matter.
You just chuckled lightly at that. “Of course. Have a good day,” you said politely while stepping out of her office.
You and your parents had a good relationship, you loved them, they loved you. You often talked to them over the phone, and you texted at least one of them almost daily. You didn’t see much of them though, you wanted independence and they were more than willing to give you a chance to experience life on your own, all the while making sure you knew you could turn to them if you ever needed. And you were more than happy with that.
You checked the tag on the locker key and looked around, searching for it in the hall, it wasn’t a huge school, so it wasn’t too hard to find. The almost empty hallway was a bit haunting, though, you did get here early thinking paperwork would take longer to sort out. Finally, you did find your locker, not too far from another girl that came early.
Perhaps it was the abrupt way you stopped when you noticed the number on your tag, or maybe it was your jacket and boots, but the girl looked at you.
“We don’t get new students that often,” she commented, her raspy voice catching your attention immediately.
“I better not disappoint then,” you opened the locker and placed your helmet inside. You’d have to go and pick up your books and other things you might need later. Why did you sign up for a literature class again? Oh yeah, you wanted to reignite your passion for reading after all these years.
You could feel her eyes looking you over. “Need help finding your first class?”
“Thanks,” you grinned, meeting her eyes and taking in the way she was dressed. “I like to figure new places out myself, but I appreciate the offer,” you really did, both actually. If you got lost, well, you could find your way out, again, it wasn’t that big of a school. You found your locker just fine, surely you could find a classroom.
“Well, see you around, stranger,” she winked and walked away. “I’m Winnie, by the way!” she exclaimed once she put some distance between you two.
“Y/N!” you answered and went in the opposite direction. It would be a bit awkward if you went the same way when you just rejected her offer to help you find the classroom you were supposed to go to for your first class.
~X~
The next time you saw Winnie it was less than ten minutes later, and this time she was accompanied by a shorter, black-haired girl, you didn’t pay much attention to the though, too focused on finding the classroom you needed to go to.
“Still don’t need help?” she asked as you crossed paths.
“Still no, I’ll be sure to cry for help if needed,” you joked earning a small laugh from he girls, and somehow the laughter you heard sounded familiar. A bit shy and reserved, but soft, but by the time you fully registered the familiarity of the sound the girl with Winnie was too far for you to call her.
It couldn’t be… Right?
Why would it be her? For once maybe you were wrong. Maybe being back in this place made you hear what wasn’t there.
Even if it was, well, you had half a year to come across her again.
Finally, you found the classroom you were looking for and were immediately hit by words you did not expect to hear, especially not in school, in a classroom, read loudly by a middle-aged larger male to at least slightly older man.
“Marcelle wants me to fuck her. She leaps off the couch and pushes herself between the girl and me,” the taller one, dressed in a more comfortable gray tracksuit, perhaps a PE teacher, read.
You weren’t sure how to react as the older man tried to make his colleague stop reading… well, not exactly the material you were expecting. You just entered the classroom, hoping that would be enough to get their attention. It wasn’t and you wanted to erase the ‘split fig’ line from your memory, alas, you were cursed! For you memorized what you heard like a damn recorder. Split fig would remain in your memory likely until something even more jarring replaced it.
You nearly walked out, not wanting to witness any more of this when they began going through student’s things, and that was a line you didn’t like being crossed. The student left that there trusting it wouldn’t be touched, it was private, and they had no business looking through someone’s stuff.
“Well, this is an interesting first impression,” you said without a care in the world making the two men freeze and turn to look at you. “Guess I found the literature class. Good morning, by the way,” you checked the doors again and sure enough, this was the classroom. Not that you needed to check again. Between the books on the shelves, framed pictures of famous writers, general feel of the room as well as everything written on the blackboard there was no doubt in your mind you were in the right place.
The man you guessed was the literature teacher at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Uh, good morning, are you here for the class?”
You nodded, taking a chair along and setting it next to the one where the pile of books was. “Sure, I was going to leave my stuff here, but,” you glanced at the teacher who was now next to you and then at the book in his hand that belonged back on the pile. “Maybe that’s not the smartest decision.”
You weren’t even subtle about it as you leaned back on your chair and pulled out your phone. “Don’t mind me, just passing the time until class starts,” you said, fiddling with your phone in the process.
“This isn’t how we usually are,” the teacher grabbed the book out of his colleague’s hand and placed it back where it belonged. “The school year just started, and Boris might be a bit too excited.”
You raised an eyebrow at that. “I noticed,” you said, briefly shifting your attention to the book the teacher, now named Boris, was reading out loud.
The man next to you quickly raised his hands. “Not that kind of excited, just so we’re clear!”
You just gave him a thumbs up and turned back to your phone. Things might be a bit awkward from now on, but you could live with that.
~X~
Almost an hour of awkward silence broken briefly only by the teacher, Miller, giving you a list of all the books the class was meant to cover later, the students began coming in. The school kinda came to life about ten minutes ago, as more and more students rushed through the halls to their first classes. You hoped your motorcycle was still fine, the first few days at a new, well old but kinda new in this case, place were always a bit worrisome in that regard. You’d cross that bridge when you get there, if it needed to be crossed in the first place. And then, sure enough, one of the students, a girl dressed in black sweater and white shorts sat down next to you.
“I haven’t seen you around, you must be new,” she said as she settled down and opened her notebook.
Again, her voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if you used to listen to it so often as a child but then it changed as she grew up and now only some familiarity remained. Just a small hint here and there to remind you that maybe you did, in fact, know her. Which wouldn’t be surprising, they were all your age, and it was a small village, and if you remembered correctly there were three classes in your generation. Or was it four? Either way, chances were you knew at least some of your current classmates. “Yeah, hi, I’m-“ you turned to look at the girl so you could introduce yourself and your breath hitched.
She raised an eyebrow, puzzled by your reaction. She didn’t change one bit, well, sure, she wasn’t a kid anymore, but you knew exactly who the girl standing in front of you was. Her dark long hair, flowing and framing her freckle-covered face, the soft, curious eyes studying you and an easy, friendly smile, and the adorable dimples on her cheeks. There was no way you could ever forget her, and the pile of books only confirmed your suspicions. As stupid as it was, you were genuinely surprised. You saw the lights on your way back home, though you just assumed it was her parents, not her. Why was she still in this small village? Why wasn’t she out there, making the most of the potential she had? You expected to see familiar faces, but you thought you wouldn’t get to see her again, and your heart raced as fast as your motorcycle through an open road.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly, and you felt two more pairs of eyes on you now that you remained silent for too long. The teacher, as well as the girl she was with were looking at you as well, but it hardly mattered.
“I, yeah, I’m fine, Cairo,” you finally pushed the words through your dry throat. You swallowed, getting over your surprise and smiling at her as her eyes widened. “It’s been a while.” She took a better look at you, and you saw recognition in her eyes as she took your appearance in. You couldn’t blame her for taking a bit of time to recognize you, you changed a bit since she last saw you. “Y/N,” she finally said your name, though with a hint of uncertainty in her tone, and you nodded, the somewhat shy smile on your face turning into a more confident, cheeky grin. She remembered you, and while you didn’t expect to see her you couldn’t hide how happy you were. You just hoped the way the two of you left things off all those years ago wouldn’t be an obstacle to catch up at least over a coffee or tea or something.
A/N: Well, here's the start of the next story. Enjoy! Also... Taglist? Yes? No?
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we-were-beautiful · 3 months ago
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Unraveled Ends Chapter 2
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Pre chapter Shenanigans 
a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  
Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  
Poly!Feysand x Reader 
Warnings: None but there is angst
WC:3.1k
The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.
They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 
The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 
Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 
It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 
Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 
“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 
I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 
“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 
It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 
“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 
“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”
“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 
“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 
“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 
“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 
“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 
“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 
“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 
“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 
“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 
“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 
“No,they don’t.” 
“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 
“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 
“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 
“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 
“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 
“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.
“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 
“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.
“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 
I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 
“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 
“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.
“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 
The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.
The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 
A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 
“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 
“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 
“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze
“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  
Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 
“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 
“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  
An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 
“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.
We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 
“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 
“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.
“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 
“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 
“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 
“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 
“Cursed.” He questions
“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 
“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 
“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 
“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 
“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”
“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 
“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.
Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore
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epicbuddieficrecs · 2 months ago
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Weekly Recap | December 2nd-8th 2024
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We're getting so close to the end of the year!!! I'm already starting to think about the end-of-the-year rec I'm gonna do! :P
Complete
stay a little longer by oceanofchaos/ @islandoforder (S8E8: Wannabes Coda, Pre-Buddie | 2K | General): “Okay, what’s next on the agenda today anyway?” asks Eddie, pulling Buck’s legal pad closer to him to look at the checklist. “Realtor, about to check that off, email the union, oh that’s a good idea, I always forget to talk to them, lunch? Really, you put lunch on the agenda? Sure, fine. Lawyer? What’s lawyer?” Suddenly, it is impossible to look at Eddie. Buck makes a grab for the notepad, and successfully regains it. - Episode tag to 8x08 Wannabes, where Buck thinks they might as well change the will officially, and he and Eddie argue about it
nursing our wounds by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (S8E8: Wannabes, Hotshots Cameo | 2,8K | General): "Eddie, c'mon," cardboard nurse whines, practically draping himself over Eddie's back. "I didn't know they'd make me Nurse Number One." "Oh, I'm sure," Eddie scoffs, stuffing half a doughnut into his mouth at once. Casey likes him. "Hm," he hums and turns to his friend. "Not as good as yours." Cardboard nurse ducks his head and smiles, a pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks. Interesting. (OR: an exec witnesses the buckandeddie phenomenon and sees an opportunity for tv gold)
You wouldn't want it any other way by paleredheadinascifi (S8, Getting Together, Bitchy Eddie | 3K | Teen): “I’m not saying that he’s bitchy because he’s gay, I’m saying he’s bitchy,” Eddie retorts. “Like his soul is bitchy. He just also happens to be gay — it’s unrelated. I don’t think you should go. I don’t like him.” Or, Buck goes on a date with Josh. It's the worst day of Eddie's life.
we won't have a hard time (you can get what you want) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8E6: Confessions, Getting Together | 3K | Explicit): Eddie rolls his eyes, knocks their shoulders together. “What I’m saying is that you deserve someone who wants the same future you do. You want kids, Buck. You want a family. You deserve someone who would be more than happy to let you break their heart, just to get the chance to be with you.” or: another confession on the couch
supposed to be a package deal by joshwrites/ @joshwritesfics (Post-S8E8: Wannabes Coda, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): “It’s really nice. Though, I really should get a new couch,” Eddie agrees before looking down and starting to pat the couch they’re sitting on — the one that holds far too many memories for Buck to count. “A new couch?” “Yeah, I don’t want to go through the hassle of moving this. I was planning on putting it up for sale on Facebook, but I was thinking maybe you wanted it? No offense, but your couch is uncomfortable as hell.” And it’s an innocent comment — one with no underlying meaning under it — but it sends Buck on a spiral to find one anyway. or: A 8x08 coda where Buck believes in couch theory.
you could poison poison by oceanofchaos/@islandoforder (S8E5: Masks Coda, Infidelity | 4K | General): There is a constant tension headache behind his eyes that’s been there for as long as he can remember, and it gets worse every single time someone who isn’t Maddie calls him ‘Evan’. - Episode tag to 8x05 Masks, in which Buck is exceedingly aware that he is increasingly annoyed by his boyfriend.
pulling pigtails by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S7E4: Buck Bothered and Bewildered | 5K | General): Buck is jealous. Buck is a green-eyed monster, a jilted lover, a crying kid who didn’t get a lollipop. Buck can’t even find it in him to push it down because it’s overwhelming. Eddie and Tommy are friends. That’s – fine! It’s totally fine. or: buck is jealous, and 7x04 goes a little differently
🔥I should be pushing daisies by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (Post-S8E8: Wannabes | 5K | Teen): “I miss you so much, man,” Eddie says as easy as anything. Like those words don’t have the power to breathe life back into Buck’s body and steal that breath back at the same time. “It’s dumb but - I guess I didn’t realize how ingrained you are in my life until suddenly you weren’t there.” “I-I miss you too,” Buck manages to say, though he has no idea if he sounds normal or if he sounds like there’s an anvil on his chest. Eddie smiles at him, eyes soft and fond even on Buck’s iPad screen. “I keep looking over my shoulder to say something to you or to see if you saw something dumb someone did too, but you’re not there.” OR Eddie goes to Texas to fix things with Chris and Buck pines.
slowly sinking (i need you to think i'm alright) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Established Buddie, BDSM, Hurt/Comfort): Some of his hook-ups liked that Buck was so much bigger than them, even though he wasn’t nearly as bulked up as he is now back when he was having casual sex. They liked when Buck held them down, when Buck reused some phrases he remembers from porn. It was all for fun. Buck never had one of them staring up at him like Eddie is now, like he’s out of his mind. It’s uncharted territory. Buck doesn’t know where to go from here. or: Buck tries to dom Eddie.
black purple and green (i bruise easily) by oceanofchaos/ @islandoforder (S8E6: Confessions Coda | 7K | General): When he gets back to the loft, he looks around it wearily. He had only just reconciled himself to the idea of Tommy moving in, and here he is, alone again in his giant fucking loft. This is so typical. Before he can psych himself out, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, and gets up the 118 groupchat. just so everyone knows, single again. - Episode tag to 8x06 Confessions, in which Buck talks through whether he should have known that first queer relationships are inherently doomed with his queer friends.
man against man (who's ahead in the game) by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (S8, Halloween, Infidelity | 9K | Explicit): But going alone is like—it’s a death knell. And Buck is trying, he really is, but it’s Halloween. You can’t break up with someone on Halloween. He spies Eddie walking up the stairs, totally focused on his phone. Eddie, who is also planless for the weekend barring some natural disaster or miracle of the prodigal son returning home. Eddie, who had gleefully been the Tubbs to Buck’s Crockett—because Buck is totally Crockett, okay?—without complaint. Eddie, who likes dressing up for Halloween. or: Buck wants to do a couples’ costume, and Tommy doesn’t want to do it. Eddie volunteers.
Make this Place your Home series by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 10K | Mature):  Eddie leaves for Texas and Buck has the worst times feeling realization in the history of romance. So he adopts a dog about it And then he gets a phone call.
🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 13/14 | 54K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.
🔥guess i'm the fool by oceanofchaos/@islandoforder (Post-S7, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 106K | Explicit): While Chris is in El Paso, it’s Eddie’s summer of Realizing Things, such as comphet, what Buck means to him, and how to let himself be happy.
WIP
🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 141/? | 454K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.
there is no road by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie Moves To Texas | 2/6 | 24K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.
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lowkeyerror · 10 months ago
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The Family Business Ch.8
WandaNatxReader
Word Count: 3k
Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting
Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos
An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
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“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.
“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.
“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.
Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”
“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.
“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.
She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.
The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.
“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.
“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.
“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”
She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.
“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.
Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.
“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.
She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.
“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.
“Thank you, Natasha.”
She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.
There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.
Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.
“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.
Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”
“You’re running things today?”
You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”
“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.
“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”
Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”
“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.
“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.
The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.
“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”
“You haven’t been sleeping.”
You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”
Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”
Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”
“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”
Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”
“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.
The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.
When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.
“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.
You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.
“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.
“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.
You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."
“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.
“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”
Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”
“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.
“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.
You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”
Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”
“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.
Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”
The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.
When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.
“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.
“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.
Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.
“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.
Wanda just hums a response.
“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.
“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.
Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”
Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”
“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.
Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”
“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.
Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”
“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”
“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.
Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”
Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.
“Baby-”
“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.
“Talk to me, detka.”
For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.
They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.
Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.
Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.
“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.
Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.
“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.
It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.
Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”
You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.
“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.
You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.
“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.
You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”
“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.
You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”
“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.
You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”
“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.
Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.
“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”
It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”
“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.
“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”
Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.
“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.
“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.
“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.
“Here as in…”
“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.
Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.
You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”
You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”
Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.
Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.
“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.
“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.
“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.
You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.
“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.
Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”
“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.
“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.
“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.
“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.
“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.
Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”
Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.
She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”
“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.
Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.
“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”
“We’re following your lead little krolik."
Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.
You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.
It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.
Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.
“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.
Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.
She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.
Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.
Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”
“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.
The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.
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newluvrs · 9 months ago
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Sungchan ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: VENUS AS A BOY - BJORK word count: 3k bb note: sungchan is so Venus as a boy coded
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Its 4:37 a.m. when you finally close your laptop for the evening.  Your skin feels like shit and you’re practically vibrating from the amount of espresso shots that were in your iced latte.  You haven’t moved from your desk since noon, only taking miniature breaks to go take a piss and grab a quick snack.  Finals week always makes you feel barely human.  When you finally turn off dnd on your phone, your met with a trillion notifications, but only a specific person holds all your attention.  Your heart lurches when you see Sungchan’s name under missed calls, you almost feel guilty recalling your demand you made earlier this week, almost. 
-
“Are you serious?”
“Sungchan, please I am quite literally begging.” 
“Baby, I just don’t understand why you don’t want to study with me...” 
You know damn well he knows why and just wants to make you say it.  You look at him with a bored expression on your face.
“You’re distracting.”
When he feigns confusion at your simple response, you roll your eyes before continuing.  
“Fine.  If you want me to be vulgar I’ll be vulgar.  We both know that I want to fuck you all the time.  You know that it only gets worse when I’m stressed.  I can’t sit there with you and just study when 90% of the time all I can think about is jumping your bones.”
“90% of the time, huh?” 
You want to kiss the stupid smug grin off of his face, but you settle instead for turning your back to him, trying to steel your resolve.  
“It’ll only be a week… it can’t be that hard, right?”
-
Except that’s absolutely not true because why would he ever make things easy for you?  It’s only been a few days since, and you can no longer count on both hands the amount of times you have had to stop yourself from driving to his place. It’s not even his fault, for the most part.  Your boyfriend is just so hot.  You swear BeReal is plotting against you when the timer has just so happened to go off every day this week when he’s in the gym.  How are you supposed to contain yourself when he walks around looking like that, and always so willing to give you what you want.  You’ve had to pause in the middle of studying a couple of times this week just to get yourself off.  Truly you are no better than a man.  
Sungchan himself has pleaded with you a couple of times to just let him come see you.  Trying to explain to you that you’re being ridiculous.  In his head he can’t understand why you won’t just let him be there to help relieve your stress.  He knows that you’re the insatiable one in this relationship.  You having explained to him after you first slept together that your sex drive tended to be high.  And he’s always been more than willing to help you out, whether it be fucking you exactly the way you need after a long day or bringing you to a tender release with his mouth first thing in the morning before you go to work.  He knows exactly what you need when you need it, so he can’t understand why you’re torturing yourself (and him) now. 
chan <3: plz let me come over 
Needless to say you absolutely weren’t expecting to receive a message from him this late at night.  
You: Why r u up??? 
chan <3: ochem :/
chan <3: I need to see u :(
You want to ignore the message, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t subconsciously press your thighs together.  All you’ve been able to think about since you last saw him is how bad you need him.  You can only do so much with your own fingers, and each time you get off has just been less and less satisfying.  Before you even get a chance to respond another message comes through. 
chan <3: im coming over
Immediately you rush to jump in the shower, not exactly feeling the most desirable in the ratty t-shirt you’ve been wearing for the last 2 days and your unwashed hair.  You tell yourself you’re not gonna let him stay over.  That all you’re gonna do is give him a quick kiss and a hug, just so that both of you can see that the other is doing fine.  And then you’re gonna tell him that you’ll see him in a few more days, after your last exam.  You say this to yourself even as you forego throwing on a bra.  You say this to yourself again as you pull up your sleeping shorts without putting on any underwear.  You tell yourself this one last time as you climb under your sheets, making yourself comfortable against your pillows.  When the familiar sound of your apartment door unlocking finally comes, you feel yourself become nervous suddenly, voice shaking as you holler that you’re in your bedroom.  
You try your best to act like you weren’t waiting for him, but you fail when as soon as you see him standing in your doorway you immediately open your arms wide for him to join you.  He lays himself next to you in your bed, wrapping his arms around your middle resting his head on your chest as you leave kisses on his forehead.  Immediately you feel comforted by his presence, your mood doing a 180. The both of you stay like this for a moment, just holding each other, feeling the exhaustion in your bones.  It’s him who breaks the silence. 
“Missed you.”  
He looks up at you when he says it, his tired eyes making your heart turn.  You can tell that he also just showered, his hair slightly damp and face covered in a light sheen from his skincare products, pimple patches and all.  You love being with him like this, tired and both of your faces bare, it feels like the both of you truly see each other.  
“”m so tired.” 
You sigh as you rub your eyes, truly you’re so exhausted.  Stress has been wrecking your body and making you feel wound too tight.  Not seeing Sungchan has only made it worse, making you feel touch starved and lonely on top of everything else.  He can already tell without you having to say it that it’s been a long couple of days for you.  He knows how hard you can push yourself to succeed.  Being told your whole life that you’re a hard worker only fueled your anxieties of being the best you could be, afraid to let everyone down.
“Let me take care of you.”  
You look down at him still resting his chin on your chest as he says so, his pretty lips pulled into a pout.  
“Just want to help you relieve your stress, will you let me do that for you baby?”  
You feel your pussy throb at this.  It makes you feel good to know that just as much as you always want Sungchan, he always wants you too.  When you don’t say anything he moves to slot himself between your legs, planting soft kisses against your jaw.
“I need to make my pretty girl feel good.  All I’ve been able to think about these last few days is fucking you.”
You can feel that he’s already half-hard as he rocks his hips against yours, a gentle sigh falling from your mouth at the smallest bit of pleasure.  
“..please.”  
That’s all he needs to hear before he’s pushing your shirt up to your hips, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you fully against him.  He moves his lips gently against yours as you softly moan into his mouth.  You feel so sleepy even right now, everything feeling like a dream as he grinds against you, panting into your mouth.  
“Felt like I was going crazy without you.  I was waiting for a call from you, telling me that you needed me and I was ready to drop everything.  You’re all I could think about.”  
You might be the insatiable one in this relationship but Sungchan is a close second.  For every time that you needed him to make you feel good, there was a time where he needed to make you feel good.  There’s nothing in this world hotter to him than the effect he has on you.  
“Your stupid fucking BeReals made me have to take several… study breaks.”  
Your ears burn hot as you admit this, casting your eyes to between your bodies watching as Sungchan rolls his hips into yours.  Heat blooming in your chest seeing the way the two of you fit perfectly together.
“I wanted to cave so many times… I’m happy you came over.” 
His heart swells in his chest hearing you say this. Placing a tender kiss against your cheek before he pulls away to pull your shorts off.  When he comes face to face with your bare cunt when he was expecting panties, he feels like he’s gonna combust.  
“Jesus y/n, you drive me fucking crazy.”  
He wants to be cocky about it, tease you for having such shit resolve when it comes to him, but he’s so hard it hurts.  You look so soft and tender, hair still damp from the shower, your old t-shirt still on along with your glasses.  He leans on an elbow as he reaches a hand down to play with you, when his fingers brush against your core you’re already soaked. When he looks up at you in silent awe your hands are covering your face, trying to shy away from his gaze.  
“I can’t help it..” You mumble out from behind your hands.  
He doesn’t want to make you wait any longer, slipping two fingers up and down your slit, coating them in your wetness.  He rubs them along your clit briefly just to hear your gasps, rutting his cock against your thigh as he does so.  He moves to pull your hands away from your face as he lines his fingers up with your hole.  Pressing them in he revels in the way you shut your eyes in bliss, mouth falling open.  He feels cocky now, smirking to himself at the way you moan when he crooks them up once they’re fully inside, rubbing up against your top wall.  
“Sungchan fuck..” 
You reach out for him, pulling him down to kiss you while his fingers play with you.  You stay like this for awhile, just making out as his fingers play with you.  He slides in a third to feel the way you gasp into his mouth.  When you arch your chest into his he almost dies at the way he can feel your nipples through your t-shirt.  
“You’re so needy, baby.”  
He presses kisses all over your face as he says this, sliding his fingers out of you to give your clit some more attention.  
“Why are your clothes still on.. this is so unfair.” 
He laughs to himself when you say this, finding it cute the way you try to make demands even as your body is twitching, caving in on itself from the pleasure.  
“Sorry baby, ‘m just gonna make you cum like this real quick, and then I’ll take them off, deal?” 
You can’t even process what he’s saying anymore, just nodding your head as you rock your hips up into his hand.  He slips his fingers back into your cunt, palm grinding into your clit as he finger fucks you.  You’re so distracted by his fingers you don’t even notice that he’s pushed your shirt up to your tits until you feel his mouth wrap around one of your nipples.  Unsure what to do with your hands, all you can do is claw at the sheets, body so overwhelmed from the pleasure.
You cum just like this, the only warning Sungchan gets is the way your body seizes up, your moans reaching a whinier pitch.  He groans at the feeling of you sporadically clenching around his fingers as he fucks you through your orgasm.  Only coming to a halt when you try and push his hand away.  You shudder as he pulls his fingers out, your throat feeling dry as you lay there, boneless.  He’s tender with the way he treats you after, leaving kisses all over your face.  
“So good to me baby, you feel better?”
You nod your head, slowly blinking, still trying to come down from your first high.  When you finally find the words to speak there’s only one thing you can say.
“Goddamn.”
You don’t even care that he smirks to himself at your comment, he deserves to be cocky right now.  When he moves back between your legs, you can already feel heat blooming again, setting your nerves alight.  You can see how hard he is through his sweats, dick straining against the fabric.  Sungchan already knows that cumming once is never enough for you, which is why you want to slap the smug grin off of his face when you hear him ask,
“You want to go again?” 
When you glare at him trying to seem threatening, he can only laugh at how cute you are.  Bringing his lips to yours to kiss the pout off your face.  He leans back on his heels to pull his long sleeve over his head.  You feel yourself throb when you see his body.  You were never one to care about muscles or whether or not someone goes to the gym, but you can’t help but admire all of Sungchan’s hard work.  
“Chan, you’re so handsome.” 
Sungchan feels himself blush at the compliment, filling with pride when you admire him so openly.  He goes to pull down his sweats, freeing his dick from the restrictive fabric.  
“You’re gonna sit there and tease me for not wearing panties, when you show up at my door without boxers on under your sweats?”  
You can’t even sound mean right now because you just feel desperate.  Trying to sound authoritative while simultaneously spreading your legs a little wider to make room for him.  
“Can’t help it I needed to make myself easily accessible to my baby.”  
Now it’s your turn to blush, rolling your eyes like you’re not affected.  He digs a condom from his pocket before sliding it on, you want to make a joke about why it was there in the first place, but the joke dies in your throat when he’s finally lining himself up between your legs.  He runs the head of his cock up and down your slit a few times before finally, finally, pushing in to your wet heat.  The stretch is so good, as he gentle eases himself into you, bringing a hand to thumb at your clit.  The slide easy with how wet you already were from your previous orgasm.  Sungchan loves the way your body opens up for him so easily.  
When he finally bottoms out, both of you just sit there panting.  You take in the sleepy look on Sungchan’s face and think about how yours must mirror his, recalling how it’s close to 6 a.m. now.  You bring a hand up to his cheek, just looking at him as you whine from how deep he feels in you, making you feel so full.  When you finally nod for him to start moving, he pulls out slowly before pushing back in just as slowly, hips reaching deep within you.  Sungchan knows that now is one of those times where you just needed to feel him close.  He fucks you just like this, slow but making sure to sink all the way in each time so you feel full.  
You’re so tired your eyes are starting to slip closed at the pleasure, just feeling so good and so sleepy.  Sungchan sees this and brings himself up to murmur against your ear.
“‘m I fucking you good?”  
All you can do is nod your head, gasping out each time he reaches deep within you.  
“’m I fucking you like you deserve?”  
When he feels you clench around him he keeps talking.
“My needy girl deserves to be fucked exactly how she likes.  You’ve been working so hard baby, just let me take care of you.  Let your pretty boy fuck you good.”  
Sungchan pulls away to rest his head in the crook of your neck, hips picking up the pace.  You bring a shaky hand to the one he has stationed by your head, urging him to lace his fingers with yours.  His heart feeling tender at the action, the gentle affection a heavy contrast to the way his hips are repeatedly rutting into yours.  The both of you are fighting to stay awake, fueled by the need to get each other off.  Sungchan knows you’re close when your moans start to change in pitch.
“You gonna cum?” 
Your eyes are squeezed shut as you hum a simple “mhm” back to him.  Sungchan uses all the energy he has left to fuck into that tender spot within you, hips refusing to let up.  
“Cum pretty girl, then we can go to sleep.” 
You just nod your head, wrapping your arms around him, trying to bring your face to his.  Sungchan takes the hint, softly pressing his lips to yours as he fucks into you one, two, three more times before you’re whimpering against him, body twitching as he feels you seize up around him.  He follows close behind, spilling into the condom as you twitch around him, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his face contorts from the bliss.  When he’s done going through the motions, he pulls out of you, hissing from the sensitivity.  He disposes of the condom before pulling his sweats back up, cleaning you up quickly with a damp towel trying his best to be gentle, putting a clean pair of underwear on you before finally sliding next to you in your bed.  
When he cuts the lights off you can see that the sun is starting to shine, both of your eyes feeling heavy as he wraps himself around you.  Before you both doze off you hear him mumble one last thing.
“I really did miss you.” 
You smile to yourself, placing a kiss on his pouty lips. 
“I missed you more Chan.”  
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storiesofsvu · 5 months ago
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Decadent Desires Ch 21
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Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings; language, minor alcohol, minor anxiety/worry but it's all fluff otherwise. 3k. Wow. We're finally here. It lowkey feels super surreal. The passage of time is wild and I don't remember when I started writing this fic, though I know I had a lot of it written before I started posting so that likely makes it seem longer. When it all comes down to it, this is one of my favourite fics that I've written. I'm proud of it. I'm incredibly thankful to everyone who's been reading it, reblogging and commenting, you are all wonderful and amazing. Stay tuned for plenty more one shots and lots of fun with our favourite characters in the future! Don't wanna miss a fic? Sign up for taglist here! Liked the story? Send me a ko-fi!
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To say that Emily’s mind was not focused over the next twenty four hours would have been an understatement. She knew that dinner was occupying her thoughts, trying to think of the best way to get her words out without fumbling all over them or saying the wrong thing. She almost considered practicing by writing them down, having a speech ready to go if she forgot what she was supposed to be saying. She started to wonder if that alone was enough, if words would be strong enough to win you over or if she needed to stop for flowers, dessert or even something fancier on the way over to your place.
She thought she was doing a decent job of keeping it under wraps while at work until Tara asked what break in the case her and DiNozzo had discovered. When Emily’s brow furrowed the other woman pointed out Tony had been in her office for nearly an hour, the two of them involved in a deep conversation and she could only assume they’d discovered something. Emily’s cheeks burned as she bluffed the best reasoning she could think of before excusing herself back to her office. While the case had been the original reason Tony popped into her office, she’d roped him in to staying, saying he was the king of all movies and tropes, wondering if maybe now was the time for some grand gesture.
He'd shot that idea down, which is why she was pulling up to your place empty handed except for a bottle of wine. The biggest grand gesture she was planning was to greet you with a kiss neither of you would be able to forget. Her heart thudded against her rib cage as she waited for the elevator, letting out a breath in an attempt to relax herself the best she could, a kiss was a kiss, the worst thing that could happen was that you wouldn’t read into it the way she did.
You swung the door open, a soft smile on your cheeks as you stepped back to let her into your apartment. Her hand quickly found your waist but any and all plans she had immediately fell out the window at the hesitancy and anxiety wafting off you and vibrating through the air. She could tell your shoulders were tensed, and you didn’t melt into her embrace the way you normally did, so she settled for a kiss on the cheek as per your usual greeting, following you into the kitchen as she passed off the bottle of wine.
“I’ve got a white open if you want to start with that?” You offered, tucking the bottle she’d brought into the fridge and she nodded.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” She smiled softly at you, watching you pull down a glass to fill for her, adding in a couple of ice cubes just as she liked it.
“How’s the case?” You asked, picking up your own wine as you leant against the island across from her, “Tony mentioned it was still pretty dead ended, I was kinda surprised you had time to make it tonight.”
“It’s a case.” She shrugged, “there’s only so much we can do right now. Figured it was best to let everyone have the night off, come back clear headed tomorrow.”
As her eyes swept through the kitchen she felt her own anxiety beginning to settle into her bones, her heart still strumming faster than usual in her chest. You had made the plan to stay in for dinner, so she wasn’t confused over your very casual attire of pyjama shorts and a cardigan, but aside from the wine bottle, there was no sign of intending to host tonight.
“Bummer.” You let out a sigh as you took a sip of wine, catching the way Emily nearly jumped at the sound of your voice, her jaw tightening and you were quick to finish you sentence, “about the case! Not that you had time to come over. That’s good, I’m glad. I just uh..” you let out an awkward laugh she wasn’t used to hearing, “didn’t want to make it sound like I was happy there was some psycho killer still out there.”
It was Emily’s turn to chuckle, taking another large sip of her drink, “no, I get it, it’s a tricky line to walk…”
Her accidentally chosen words hung heavily in the air, weighing down on both of you as you let out a quiet hum, staring over her shoulder, your wine glass in front of your face. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so heavily you were almost certain Emily could hear it or at least could see the way the pulse point in your neck was jumping. It was part of the reason you’d pulled away so quickly at the front door, you didn’t want her to be able to feel it, or your clammy hands, she didn’t need to know you were nervous.
“Hey…” you were almost certain your voice cracked, “I uh, wanted to talk to you about something.”
Her face shot up, trying to control the expression written across it when she finally caught your eye, “oh, yeah. Me too, but you first.”
You downed the rest of your wine, your glass likely hitting the island with a little too much velocity as the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could take a second thought. “I think we should end the arrangement.”
Emily felt her heart drop into her stomach, the butterflies that were once there crushed into a churning of bile as she swallowed. This certainly wasn’t what she had expected, she thought she’d read the situation right, followed Tony’s advice that was supposed to lead her in the right direction. Then she felt incredibly stupid, she read body language and people for a living when she’d known them for all of two seconds. Yet she’d spent incredibly intimate and personal hours with you and still didn’t manage to get the right vibe.
“Oh…I, okay.” She placed the half full glass of wine, her eyes not totally focused on anything before she scooped up her bag, “I’ll uh… get out of your hair then.”
You’d caught the way her face fell ever so briefly before she managed to mask it, your heart squeezing in your chest as you darted around the island, managing to catch her wrist in your hand.
“No! Emily, please, no.” You tugged her back to you and when she finally did focus on you there was an evident shimmer of tears threatening to spill into her eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” You let out a shaky laugh, tripping over your words you were speaking so quickly, “well, I guess it is what I meant, but not how I meant it.”
“You… want to rewrite the contract?” She asked hesitantly and you felt the heat creeping up your cheeks.
“More like I was thinking about ripping up the contract…”
There was a moment of relief washing through Emily that you could feel sparking through your body as she let out a breath. Her gaze was still pouring into you and the entire room suddenly felt too hot, causing you to shove up the sleeves of your cardigan, making sure they were settled above your elbows before undoing a couple of buttons to give you a little cool room to breathe. Emily’s eyes darted over your body as her mind continued to race.
“Listen, I.. god…” you shook your head with a laugh. Despite reciting what you wanted to say for hours, you were still totally flustered when it came to saying it to her face. It didn’t help that you suddenly noticed the way her eyes were flitting between your arms and your thighs. “What?”
She looked up, a curious expression on her face, “no blood drawn?”
“Huh?” Your brow furrowed, head titling in the adorable way Emily loved when you were utterly confused. When she was done shooting you heart eyes she suddenly realized her mistake, her tongue swiping out the corner of her mouth as she began to stutter over her words.
“Uh, just… last time you went out of town you had blood drawn.” She shrugged, “I guess I thought it was some kind of travel, germaphobe, don’t want to pick up a flu or something…” She trailed off, kicking herself for letting it slip out in the first place. Her eyes darted down to your thighs again before flicking up to your collarbone, tracing the line up your neck.
Your face relaxed, lips curving up into a small smile when you caught on to what she was doing, and what she really meant. “No…” You shook your head softly, reaching out to squeeze at her hand, “no blood drawn.”
You felt your chest swell, and Emily wanted nothing more than to kiss you to high heaven in that moment, never wanting to drop your hand no matter what the cost. Instead of getting her chance you spoke again, which, honestly, was probably for the best.
“God…” you laughed again, running a hand through your hair, “I really don’t know how to do this, I’ve never done it before.”
“Wait, what?” Her head tilted, “I thought you like, made a side hustle out of sugar babying.”
“No!” You laughed, “Oh my god I’ve done it once and that was like twenty years ago. We had a very specific end date written into the contract and knew nothing was ever going to come of it aside from my tuition.”
“But you’re so knowledgeable about the subject.” She pointed out, thinking back to how confidently you’d flown through the first few months of your relationship, how you always seemed to be a step or two ahead of her when it came to navigating your way through it.
“I’ve done my research?” You shrugged, “seen a lot of examples with Heather. Hell, with a good chunk of other politicians. Listen,” you squeezed at her hand again, pulling the focus back to the topic at hand, “I don’t know how to navigate it like this.” You gestured between the two of you, “I’m not good at it, I guess it’s another reason I’ve stayed so committed to the job… being committed to a person just kind of scares me. I’ve never felt safe enough to open up the way I needed to, never been relaxed around another person to just… let them into my life so comfortably. I don’t know why things happened so differently with you, so incredibly easily and I think that kinda freaks me out too, but I think that fear is more than worth it if it gives me the chance to be with you…really be with you. Because that’s all I really want.”
When she looked up from your joined hands Emily could hear her heart hammering between her ears, the butterflies from her stomach slowly creeping into her chest. You were fully opening yourself up to her, no matter how much it scared you and behind the hesitancy in your eyes she could see something else pouring out, something that she’d been seeing for weeks but was never ballsy enough to say something about.
“I’m hearing everything your saying and believe me I want to respond and I will, but can I do something first?” She asked.
“Uh… yeah, sure.” Your brow furrowed for a second, thinking that she had to take a call, that over your racing heartbeat you hadn’t been able to hear her phone vibrate.
Instead you were letting out a little squeak in surprise when Emily stepped toward you, her hands gently cupping your face as she brought her lips to yours. Your arms easily wound around her shoulders, pulling her body directly into yours so you could absolutely melt against her. You were instantly lost into the kiss, feeling like everything inside of you was exploding in the best way possible. Somehow the thundering in Emily’s chest was calming down as her lips moved against yours with ease, as if that was exactly where they were meant to be. The sweet smell of your shampoo invaded her nose, you invaded every single one of her senses and there was absolutely nothing else that she could ever possibly want.
Her tongue traced the seam of your lips and you easily parted them, wanting nothing more than to be able to fully taste her. Your had crept up the back of her neck, fingers gently toying with the roots of her hair, your thumb stroking at her skin. Her tongue explored your mouth, rolling against your own and she couldn’t help but let out a small groan into the kiss. When your fingers ever so slightly tugged on her hair she retaliated by nipping at your lower lip while her own curved up into a grin. A small laugh broke free from your mouth, neither of you pulling away as you relaxed deeper into each other, giggles and smiles prevalent through a series of smaller kisses until you couldn’t stop them.
Emily’s forehead rested against your own as she stole one more kiss, her hand cupping your chin, thumb tracing your lower lip and you couldn’t help but press a tender kiss to it.
“I know it can be scary…” she started, “it scares me too and honestly I’m not sure if I’m particularly great at it either. I’ve been trying to untangle my thoughts and emotions for weeks, maybe even longer and it’s been driving me insane. All that I really know is that I love spending time with you, I’m happier when you’re around, you make me laugh, you encourage me to be my best, I even sleep better with you next to me and I want so much more of all of that in my life. So…maybe we can figure it out together?”
“Yeah.” You nodded, a bright smile on your cheeks and a sparkle in your eye that absolutely made her weak in the knees, “I’d really like that.”
With another adorable giggle you surged closer to her, kissing her again, your hands tugging at the fabric of her shirt, pulling her impossibly close. You couldn’t get enough of each other and it made Emily laugh again between the kisses.
“Jeeze,” she shook her head, “I can’t believe DiNozzo was right.”
“DiNozzo?” You murmured; head full of butterflies as you stole another kiss. Though once his name was on your lips you were crashed back down to earth and you leant your torso away from her, “were you talking to Tony about our love life?!”
“Uh, maybe?” She winced, her cheeks tinging as she laughed, “I mean, it turned out he did give some pretty good advice.”
“Oh god.” You hung your head, “I am never going to hear the end of this.”
“At least it was worth it?” She suggested and you smiled across at her, pressing your lips to hers.
“It definitely was.”
Her hand caressed your cheek again as she leant in to kiss you, unable to help herself at this point and you weren’t about to deny her. Right as your lips met you jumped at the sound of the doorbell.
“You expecting someone?” She asked, her arm almost tightening around your waist as you laughed, swatting at her arm.
“It’s dinner.” You grabbed your wallet from the island, “did you really think I was going to cook after such a long day?”
Emily shook her head at the look in your eyes as you disappeared around the corner. Choosing to take the time you were dealing with the driver to collect your wine glasses from the island, refilling both before selecting cutlery and setting things up on the coffee table.
“Hope you’re okay with Indian,” you started, setting the bag down on the table as you tucked a leg under yourself on the couch, “I had a craving.”
“Cuisine doesn’t matter as long as I’m sharing it with you.” She replied and you felt your heart thud in your chest, your body melting at the look in her eyes as she gazed over at you.
“You fucking sap.” You teased, choosing to distract her from the misting of happy tears in your eyes by jumping into her lap, your lips meeting hers for another kiss.
Emily’s hands ghosted up your sides as yours settled on her face, thumbs stroking at her cheeks while your tongue explored her mouth. You let out a happy sigh into the kiss that she eagerly swallowed down, her entire being relaxing at the way you were melting into the embrace.
“What?” She asked softly, a smile on her face as she nudged your nose with hers.
“Nothing.” You shook your head, unable to control your own bright smile.
“Oh c’mon.” She prodded at your sides, earning a squeal from you, “don’t pull that crap anymore.”
You laughed, gazing down at her as your thumbs continued to soothe across her cheeks, “I just guess I’ve spent so long avoiding it and being scared that I never realized it could be this easy to fall in love...”
“You’re in love with me?” If it had been even a day earlier the question would have been filled with worry, but right now Emily asked it with a tease in her voice, because she already knew the answer. You didn’t need to say it, she could feel it, the warmth flowing through the room, wrapping itself around the two of you as you perched in her lap. She wasn’t scared to hear anything you had to say and she knew she felt the same way.
“Yeah…yeah I am.”
“Good.” Her hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you to her for another kiss, this one deeper and a little longer than the last. One that you could feel her emotion in, joy dancing deep through your veins as your heart began to strum in time with hers, “because I’ve been in love with you for weeks. I never thought we could end up like this when we started… but here we are.”
“Mmm.” You left a kiss on the tip of her nose, “and I wouldn’t have it any either way.”
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