#yeah let's pretend this was planned. strategic

[pucksandpower]

Under the Mistletoe

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando really wants you to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sounds normal enough, right? Wrong! So wrong

Warnings: 18+ content and description of an allergic reaction

The apartment is finally quiet. The muffled thrum of conversation and laughter that had filled every corner just hours ago has faded, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room. It smells like pine needles, spiced cider, and the faint citrus tang of your new body wash. You pad softly down the hallway in your slippers, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet.

“Lando?” You call, peeking into the dimly lit bedroom.

He’s there, of course, but the sight that greets you isn’t what you expect.

Lando is lying on his back, smack in the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing … except for a single, strategic adornment. Tied with what looks like a strip of red ribbon, a sprig of mistletoe dangles provocatively from his dick.

“Seriously?” You stop in the doorway, blinking. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy Christmas,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an invitation.” He tilts his head slightly, his curls a messy halo against the pillow. “You’ve got to kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” You fold your arms, biting back a smile.

“Under the mistletoe,” he clarifies, as if that makes it any less ridiculous. “It’s the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You absolutely made this up.”

Lando shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Does it matter?”

You stand there for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You know, normal people just leave cookies for Santa. Not …” You gesture vaguely at him, at the ribbon, at everything.

“Not everything has to be normal,” he says, his grin softening slightly. There’s something teasing in his tone, but there’s sincerity, too. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it.”

There’s no point denying it. You do love him — ridiculous, over-the-top antics and all. With a sigh that’s more for show than anything else, you take a few steps closer to the bed.

“Alright,” you say, pretending to consider. “Where exactly am I supposed to kiss you? The mistletoe’s not even …” You trail off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

Lando smirks, his eyes dancing. “Where do you think?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you say again, but you’re already climbing onto the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and Lando watches, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not protesting much,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“You could have just stayed in the doorway, you know. Told me off or something. But no, here you are-”

“Lando,” you cut in, leaning over him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, cutting off whatever smug reply he had planned. His hands slide instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss him.

It’s not rushed. The night has been long, full of people and noise and obligations, and this moment feels like a welcome reprieve. Lando’s mouth is warm, insistent but unhurried, and you let yourself get lost in it for a while, your fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, flushed and grinning.

“Good start,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you shift your attention downward. The ribbon, the mistletoe — it’s so absurd you have to laugh.

“Did you seriously tie this yourself?” You ask, running a finger lightly along the edge of the ribbon.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, yes. Took me a solid twenty minutes, too. Those stupid YouTube tutorials make it look way easier than it is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “you’re still here.”

You meet his gaze, your laughter fading. The teasing, playful look in his eyes hasn’t disappeared, but there’s something else there now — something softer, more vulnerable. It’s the look he gets when he’s reminding you, without words, just how much you mean to him.

“Well,” you say quietly, “it is Christmas.”

“And you’ve got to follow the rules,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

The bed creaks slightly as you shift again, positioning yourself more comfortably. You lean down, pressing another kiss to his lips — gentler this time, more lingering. Then you trail kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles across his chest.

Lando lets out a soft, contented sigh, his hands finding your hips again. “You’re taking this very seriously,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Lucky me.”

You glance up at him briefly, smirking. “You’ve no idea.”

When you finally reach the ribbon, you pause, your lips hovering just above it. Lando’s breathing hitches slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” you murmur.

“Best Christmas ever,” he replies, his voice low and fervent.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you kiss him under the mistletoe.

You pause for a beat, the mistletoe brushing lightly against your cheek. Lando’s breathing is heavier now, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He’s trying to stay still, but his fingers dig into your skin, betraying how much control he’s losing.

“You alright up there?” You ask, teasing, your voice low.

“You know I’m not,” he mutters, his words strained.

“Good.”

And with that, you continue. Deliberate. Unhurried. Every movement of your mouth is purposeful, every touch designed to unravel him. Lando groans, low and broken, the sound rumbling through the quiet room like a storm on the horizon.

“Fuck, you’re …” He cuts himself off, his head tipping back into the pillow. His hands flex against your hips, as if holding you steady is the only thing grounding him.

“Say it,” you murmur, barely pulling away for a second.

He glances down at you, his hazel eyes dark and glassy. “You’re killing me,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile, the corners of your mouth curving just slightly before you return to your task. Lando’s hands slip from your shoulders, clutching the sheets instead. He’s completely undone now — his breathing ragged, his head thrown back, his body trembling beneath you.

“F-fuck … close,” he stammers, his words tumbling out like he’s barely holding them together.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibration of it drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from him. It’s all he can take.

He breaks.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his body tenses, and you taste the telltale musky warmth on your tongue. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him ride out the high, his grip on the sheets going slack.

When it’s over, you pull back slowly, swallowing before wiping at the corner of your mouth. One drop clings stubbornly to your lip, and you swipe it away with your thumb, catching Lando’s hazy, satisfied gaze as you do.

“You alright there?” You ask softly, your tone light but full of affection.

“Barely,” he mutters, his voice thick. He exhales sharply, his chest still heaving as he lets his head fall to the side, watching you with a dazed grin. “You’re-”

“What?” You tilt your head innocently, wiping your hand on a tissue before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Perfect,” he finishes, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just the moment.

You laugh quietly, crawling up the bed to lie beside him. He pulls you close immediately, one arm draped over your waist, the other brushing back a strand of hair from your face.

“Was this your master plan all along?” You tease, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he admits, still catching his breath.

“And?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You roll your eyes but smile against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Happy Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, neither of you says anything more. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the fire in the distance, and the world beyond the bedroom feels miles away.

Eventually, Lando breaks the silence. “So … same thing next year?”

You shove him playfully, laughing as his grin widens. “Go to sleep.”

And with him wrapped around you, the warmth of his love settling over you like a blanket, you do.

***

The morning light creeps through the curtains, warm and soft, a stark contrast to the frantic energy in the room. You stir awake first, stretching lazily until you feel Lando shift beside you, letting out a low, uncomfortable groan.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” You mumble sleepily, rolling over to look at him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just shifts again, his body stiff and tense. Then he sits up abruptly, wincing as if every movement hurts.

“Lando?” You ask, more alert now.

“It … hurts,” he says, glancing down at himself. “Like, bad.”

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see it. The redness. The swelling.

“Oh my God,” you say, your voice shooting up an octave. You sit up fully, the sleepiness disappearing in an instant. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims, his face a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “It was fine last night!”

“Well, it’s not fine now!” You scoot closer, carefully inspecting the irritated skin. It’s blotchy, bright red, and looks alarmingly angry.

“It’s swollen,” he groans.

“No kidding.”

“What do we do?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic.

“First, calm down,” you say, though your own voice isn’t exactly steady. “Second … oh my God, Lando, do you think it’s the mistletoe?”

His eyes widen as the realization hits. “You think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have any idea where that stuff’s been stored? It’s probably coated in dust or pollen or something. Or-” Your voice catches. “Do you think you’ve always been allergic?”

“I’ve never, uh … put it on my cock before, so how would I know?”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, panic simmering between you.

“We need help,” Lando says finally.

“Like … a doctor?”

“No!” He yelps. “We’re not going to a doctor for this!”

“Then what-”

“Call Jon,” he blurts out, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “Your performance coach?”

“Yeah! He knows, like, medical stuff. And he won’t make it weird.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow but grab your phone anyway, scrolling to Jon’s number. “Oh, this isn’t going to be awkward at all,” you mutter as it rings.

“Hello?” Jon answers, sounding far too chipper for the situation.

“Uh, hi, Jon,” you begin, exchanging a look with Lando. “It’s Y/N. Lando and I have … a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Jon asks, his voice immediately shifting to professional concern.

“Well …” You trail off, glancing at Lando, who gestures frantically for you to continue. “It’s kind of … personal.”

“Y/N,” Jon says patiently, “you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Lando’s … area is swollen and covered in a rash.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“… Come again?” Jon finally says, and you can practically hear him trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Lando shouts from the bed. “It’s serious!”

“Oh, it’s serious?” Jon repeats, his voice full of barely concealed amusement. “Alright. How did this happen?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “He … tied mistletoe to it last night.”

Jon doesn’t reply immediately, but the faint sound of him choking back laughter comes through the line.

“Can you help or not?” Lando snaps, his cheeks flushing red — whether from anger or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Okay, okay,” Jon says, his tone softening. “It’s probably an allergic reaction. Clean the area thoroughly, apply a topical antihistamine if you have one, and keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Elevated?” You echo, frowning. “How are we supposed to-”

“Just do your best,” Jon says, clearly suppressing a laugh again. “And if it doesn’t improve in a few hours, you might need to, uh … consult a professional.”

“Thanks, Jon,” you say quickly, hanging up before Lando can yell again.

Lando groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the worst Christmas ever.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Now, let me see.”

“This is humiliating,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you sit beside him, carefully applying the ointment Jon suggested.

“Hold still,” you say gently, your touch careful.

He winces but doesn’t complain further, watching you with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. After a few minutes, the redness looks slightly less angry, though the swelling is still noticeable.

Once you’re done, you sit back with a sigh, your hands on your knees. “Well, that was a bonding experience.”

Lando lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not exactly what I had planned.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching upward despite everything. “So … was it worth it?”

He grins, some of his usual confidence returning. “Next year, I’ll make sure to have an epipen ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Next year, maybe let’s stick to normal traditions. Like cookies. Or matching pajamas.”

“We’ll see,” he says, smirking as he leans back against the pillows. “I’ve still got a whole year to think of something even better.”

“God help us all,” you mutter, but there’s affection in your voice.

And despite the chaos, as you settle back into bed beside him, you can’t help but think it’s still a Christmas to remember.

[snarp]

Calling social services on myself for what I've done to this poor rosebush.

[thewickedjazzy]

𓍼𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑶𝒇 𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒘𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𓂃

➵ 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : Beast! Dazai osamu x f! reader

➵ 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸: You are Dazai's favourite—an executive who avoided unnecessary bloodshed, preferring to strategize behind the scenes. With your cunning plans, you helped the Port Mafia flourish after Mori's death, and under Dazai's leadership, you became vital in securing the organization's power.

➵ 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽: NSFW minor dni, smut, angst, dazai is controlling, yandere dazai?, character death, abuse, guns, blood, SA, dissociation, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, let me know if I forgot any Xx.

➵ 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮: Helloooo, this fic took me 3 weeks to finish, I'm always down with angst stories cause, let's be real, no bsd fan doesn't like angst, right? also, ice cream man by raye inspired me to write some parts uwu I hope you enjoy it. xoxo -dividers credits to @anitalenia

➵ 𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 6.8k

You shouldn't be crying. You already did beat the man up till he was shaking, but you couldn't help it. You can still feel his ice-cold hands marking your body, a sensation that sends shivers down your spine. How you wish you could express how you feel, how you felt in that moment when your strength faltered. You long to explain why you’re silently blaming yourself, why the guilt gnaws at your insides like a relentless parasite.

You put on these faces, pretending you're fine, wearing a mask of strength that you desperately want to believe in. But in the privacy of the bathroom, you press rewind, playing the events over and over in your head. His fingerprints, like invisible stains, linger on your skin, a cruel reminder of how he made you frame yourself for his sins. Such a pathetic, dead excuse of a man.

The man in question wasn’t just some random thug—he was your crazy ex, the one who had haunted you for years, refusing to let go, even after everything had ended. You hadn’t told anyone about the encounter. What would they think? What would he think? Dazai, with his sharp eyes and sharper mind, would see right through you. He always did.

You straighten up and hastily wipe your tears away as you hear a knock on the door. The sound sends a jolt through your body, and you quickly compose yourself, trying to erase any trace of vulnerability from your face.

Seated at your desk, you take a deep breath and call out, "Come in."

The door opens, and it's Chuuya, greeting you with his usual smile. But the moment his eyes land on you, the smile drops, concern filling his gaze as he takes in your red nose and puffy eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”' he asks with a low and gentle voice.

You force a weak smile, shaking your head. "Yeah..just... pmsing," you lie, the excuse feeling hollow even to you. You get up walking towards him before adding quickly, "Please don’t tell Dazai."

Chuuya hesitates, his eyes searching yours, before he nods, accepting your words without question. He hands you his handkerchief, his expression softening with sympathy as you take it from him.

You dab at your eyes, feeling the wetness seep into it, and then take a deep breath. You can’t afford to break down, not now. Not in front of him.

He escorted you to Dazai’s office, his presence a quiet comfort. At the door, he gave you a final, soft look before turning away.

The office door creaked open, and you stepped inside, the chill of the room amplifying the coldness you already felt. Dazai looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your disheveled state.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice so velvetly soft that it could melt you.

You tried to muster a casual smile, but it felt hollow. “Just had a run-in with some old... baggage. Nothing to worry about.”

Dazai’s eyes didn’t leave you, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You know I don’t buy that ‘nothing’ act. What’s really going on?”

You took a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice steady. “It’s really not your concern. I’m handling it.”

Dazai’s gaze was sharp as he looked you up from his desk, his usual lazy posture replaced by a steely focus. “Come here,” he said, a command wrapped in casual tones.

Reluctantly, you approached, his eyes never leaving you. He patted his lap, a gesture both familiar and unsettling. “Sit.”

You shook your head, trying to avoid his intense stare, oh god how he toys with your emotions. “I’m fine standing.”

Dazai’s expression darkened slightly, his patience wearing thin. He reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he pulled you closer. The touch was feather-light but unmistakably commanding. He guided you gently onto his lap, his hands resting on your waist.

You stiffened, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Osamu, really, it’s nothing.”

Ignoring your protests, Dazai’s lips brushed against your neck, his kisses soft but insistent. You tilted your head, a soft whimper escaping your lips. The sensation was like a nicotine hit after a long withdrawal; you had been away on a mission for three days, and you had missed his touch more than you cared to admit. As his lips continued their tender assault, he pulled your shirt down slightly, revealing the fresh bruise that marred your skin.

Dazai’s eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint reflecting in them. The bruise was vivid, a stark contrast against your pale skin, and his expression darkened as he took in the sight.

“Who did this?” he asked coldly, his voice remained low.

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s not important.”

Dazai’s hand tightened on your waist, his grip firm and unyielding as he tilted your head back. His kisses turned sharper, more insistent, and you couldn’t help but let out soft whimpers. His breath was warm against your skin, his lips pressing harder with each passing second. “I said who did this..”

You swallowed hard, the pressure of his words mixing with the lingering sting of the bruise. “It’s nothing. Just...someone from my past.”

His grip remained unyielding, his gaze piercing. “I don’t like secrets. Especially ones that involve you getting hurt.”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the weight of his expectations pressing down. You felt cornered, unable to escape the intensity of his scrutiny. “I said it’s nothing. Please, just let it go.”

Dazai’s expression remained impassive for a moment, then he simply nodded. The acknowledgment was neither reassuring nor dismissive, leaving a cold tension in the air.

After a few seconds of silence Dazai's voice cut through the room, his fingers still brushing against your skin. “The thing is, my love, you don’t have to tell me anything.” He turned to the intercom on his desk, his tone shifting to a cold, commanding edge. “Atsushi, you can bring him in now.”

Your eyes widened in shock, your legs going weak as you tried to turn your head towards the door. It creaked open slightly, and Atsushi rushed in, dragging your ex behind him. Your ex’s hands were bound tightly, and he was unconscious, a cloth over his mouth. Atsushi tossed him roughly onto the floor and announced, “I brought him alive, just as you ordered.”

“Good work, Atsushi,” he said calmly. “You can leave now.”

Dazai’s gaze remained on you, his smile twisted with a cruel satisfaction as Atsushi closed the door behind him. He lifted your legs lightly, forcing you to stand as he moved toward the prone figure of your ex, who was beginning to stir. Dazai’s fingers traced along your ex’s jawline with an unsettling gentleness.

Horror gripped you as you watched, understanding what was about to unfold. You begged, your voice trembling, “Please, Dazai, don’t kill him.”

He merely tsked in response, his eyes cold and unyielding. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Before you could take a deep breath, his voice sliced through the tension like an arrow. “You are the one who's going to do it.” He gently grabs your hands placing a gun between them.

Your hands trembled as you held the gun, the cold metal biting into your palms. The room was deathly silent except for the faint, ragged breaths of your ex as he began to regain consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, revealing a mix of confusion and fear as he took in his surroundings.

Dazai’s cold eyes were locked on you.“Go on,” he urged softly. “You wanted him to suffer for what he did. Here’s your chance.”

The gun felt impossibly heavy, and your heart pounded in your chest. You glanced at your ex, his eyes widening in terror as he realized what was happening. “Please,” you whispered, more to yourself than to anyone else. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Dazai’s smile widened slightly. “It doesn’t matter what you wanted. You’ve been given a choice. What will you do with it?”

Your mind raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. You thought of the pain he’d caused you, the fear he had instilled, and the bruises that still stung. Yet, the thought of ending his life filled you with a profound dread. You felt trapped, the decision crushing under the weight of Dazai’s expectation and your own turmoil.

“Do it,” Dazai said, his voice a soft command, almost a caress. “Or I’ll do it for you. But if I do, you’ll have missed your chance to decide your own fate.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you faced your ex, his terror and confusion mirroring your own. Choked sobs left you lips Dazai’s gaze followed every movement with a sick interest.

“Please, Dazai..don’t make me do this,” you pleaded, your voice cracking.

Dazai’s expressionwas stoic as ever. “You’re not being asked to make a choice you can’t live with. You’re being given the chance to claim control over your own life.”

With a final, desperate look at your ex, you closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The gun felt like a lead weight in your hand, the gravity of your decision pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, you raised the gun.

You closed your eyes tightly, the room spinning as you tried to steady your racing heart. The gun trembled in your grip, the weight of the decision nearly unbearable. You heard Dazai move behind you, his footsteps silent against the floor.

His presence was almost soothing as he came closer, but you knew better than to trust the comfort of his proximity. Dazai's hands settled on your outstretched arms, his touch both firm and unsettlingly gentle. His fingers caressed the metal of the gun, guiding it with a measured pressure.

“You don’t need to hesitate,” Dazai murmured softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve already made the decision. Now, you just need to follow through.”

The sensation of his hands on yours, the intimate pressure of his grip, made your breathing shallow and uneven. You felt a dark, twisted sense of helplessness as his fingers guided the gun, aligning it with your ex’s trembling form.

“I’ll count to three,” Dazai continued, his voice was steady “And when I reach three, I want you to pull the trigger. Don’t let yourself falter.”

You felt his breath on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. The intimacy of his touch contrasted sharply with the gravity of the moment. You wanted to pull away, to escape the suffocating pressure, but his grip held you firmly in place.

“One,” Dazai said, his voice calm as he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

Your tears fell silently as you fought against the urge to drop the gun.

“Two,” Dazai’s breath was warm as he pressed another kiss.

You could hear your ex’s shallow breaths, his eyes pleading as they met yours.

“Three,” Dazai said, his voice now a commanding whisper.

With a final, shuddering breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world as you pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed painfully in the room, and you felt the impact of the action resonate through your very core.

You opened your eyes, your arms fell limp as the gun slipped from your grasp, hitting the floor with a hollow clatter. You staggered back, your legs barely holding you upright, and turned away from the grim sight before you.

Dazai’s grip on your shoulders was a cold anchor as he held you steady, his touch paradoxically soothing yet possessive. You could feel his breath against your neck as he leaned in close, his voice a chilling murmur. “Well done,” he said placing soft kisses again as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your back against his chest. “You’ve proven your resolve.”

You felt a wave of nausea and despair wash over you, your emotions a tangled mess of guilt and horror. The room spun as you tried to make sense of the scene in front of you. The body on the floor was now still, the weight of your actions sinking in with a heavy finality.

Dazai’s hands slid down to your wrists, his touch now insistent as he forced you to look at the aftermath. “Do you see what you’ve done?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of praise and dark satisfaction. “You’ve taken control of your own fate.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm, his presence an oppressive force that left you feeling trapped. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for any semblance of escape, but all you found was the unyielding gaze of Dazai, his face reflecting a mixture of cold pleasure and calculated dominance.

His fingers gently traced your jawline, his touch both tender and unsettling. “It’s done now,” he said, his voice almost affectionate. “You did great, my love.”

The finality of his words echoed in your mind as you struggled to come to terms with what had just happened. The tears streaming down your face were a testament to the turmoil within you, the depth of your inner conflict clear as you fought to keep yourself composed.

Dazai’s hands gently turned you around to face him. His expression, though tinged with satisfaction, softened as he wiped away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he carefully brushed away the last remnants of your distress.

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The tenderness of the moment was jarring against the harsh reality of what had just occurred. His lips moved gently against yours, and he licked your bottom lip before drawing it into a passionate, consuming kiss.

The warmth of his kiss contrasted sharply with the icy numbness you felt inside. You felt his fingers trace your face, lingering on the slight traces of blood that you hadn’t even noticed. His touch was delicate, almost intimate, as he wiped away the remnants with careful precision.

Dazai pulled away from the kiss, his expression unreadable as he reached for the intercom on his desk. “Atsushi,” he said with a cold, commanding tone, “bring in the clean-up crew. Dispose the body.”

Atsushi entered the room, his eyes shifting between you and Dazai. He bowed slightly, acknowledging the order before moving towards the body. As he lifted your ex’s lifeless form, the finality of the situation hit you with renewed force. You stared blankly, more tears streaming down your face, as Atsushi carried the body out and closed the door behind him.

The room was filled with the soft hum of Dazai’s presence as he moved back in front of you. He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, shushing you softly as your sobs grew louder. “Shh, it’s alright,”he murmured, his voice almost soothing.

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, your sobs escaping in ragged bursts. Dazai’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. His embrace was both comforting and suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I know it was hard.”

You could barely respond, the weight of your own emotions too heavy to articulate. All you could do was clutch at him, your sobs muffled against his chest as the realization of what had happened continued to sink in. You hated him, and yet, in the chaos of your emotions, you felt a desperate, confusing affection for him—a love that seemed to only grow more complicated in the aftermath of his actions.

Dazai’s fingers gently combed through your hair, his touch soothing despite the circumstances. “It’s all over now,” he said softly.

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, “He should've known better than to touch what's mine.”

The room was filled with the constant contact of your colliding bodies. Your body arched against the rumpled sheets as his thrusts filled you completely, each stroke hitting exactly the right spots.

" Mmm.. that's it my love, take my cock all the way inside this pretty eager pussy of yours" he growled softly against your skin.

You relished the way every thrust brushed against your cervix, sending waves of pleasure through you. The intensity of his movements left you feeling utterly consumed, your mind hazed and eyes glossy with desire. Your fingers dug into his back, desperately clutching him as he moved with a raw intensity.

His lips traveled down your neck, biting and kissing with a fervent need. One hand cupped your breast with a possessive grip while his mouth hovered over the other, teasing with gentle flicks of his tongue and playful nips at your nipple. The mix of sensations was overwhelming, your moans filling the space between you.

Yet, even in the midst of this passion, your mind began to wander. The memories of the past few days—the confrontation, the guilt, and Dazai’s chilling command—flooded your thoughts, turning the intense pleasure into a distant murmur. You felt a growing disconnection, your body reacting while your mind struggled to stay present.

Sensing the abrupt change, Dazai felt as if he were thrusting into a lifeless body. He slowed his movements and pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with a rare softness. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked, concern filling his lustrous gaze.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself as your voice, though shaky, was firm. “It’s fine,” you reassured him, forcing a weak smile. “I just... got lost in my thoughts for a moment. It’s nothing.” You reached out to gently touch his cheek, trying to convey that the issue was more internal than it was about him.

Dazai took a deep breath and shifted to sit upright, his concern still evident. “You're still thinking about it, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine worry.

"Please, just forget about it." you said, pulling his wrist with a firm but gentle grip. Before he could respond, you pressed your lips against his, kissing him deeply to steer your focus back to the present.

Dazai gasped into the kiss, his breath hitching as your kissed him with fervor. He gently pinned your wrists down with a possessive grip, his lips trailing soft kisses along your chest. He positioned himself again, his cock pressing against your throbbing cunt, his voice a low murmur.

“We can stop if it’s too much, my love,” he whispered as his chest moves up and down with each breath.

You locked gaze with his eyes, “Just fuck me already,” you breathed. You wanted to reclaim the moment, to bury the past beneath the intense passion that bound you both.

He slams his cock into you again, filling you completely. A growl escapes his lips as he watches you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the sight of your reactions. His thrusts become more powerful, and he showers your neck, chest, and breasts with fervent kisses.

"So addict to my cock, love? Hmm?" he continues to taunt you with his words and delivers a firm slap to your ass, making you shiver from his touch.

You gasp, arching your back as his thrusts hit all the right spots. “It feels so good, 'samu” you breathe, trying to steady yourself.

He slaps your ass again, making you shiver and whimper. “Say it again, my love haah~ I need to hear you say how good ugh~I’m making you feel.”

“s'good,” you moan, your voice breaking.

"Good" with a satisfied growl, he pulls out. “Now, ride me.”

You nod, your legs trembling in anticipation. As you position yourself over him, he hisses at the sensation of your cold hand guiding his hard, leaking cock to your eager, wet cunt.

As you sink down onto him, your walls stretches to accommodate his size, a deep moan slipping from your lips as you take him in fully. The feeling is overwhelming, your inner walls tightening around him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you.

His long slender fingers grip your hips, helping you find a rhythm as you begin to ride against him. Each roll of your hips sends waves of pleasure through you, the friction making you shudder.

You lean forward, your fingers fumbling as you carefully remove the bandage from his eye. Your breath is hot against his neck as you whisper, “’Samu, I love you.” Your body presses against his, and with a surge of passion, you begin to ride him at a faster pace, each movement gaining a growl from him.

His eye, now fully exposed, darkens with lust as he gazes up at you. “I love you too, darling,” he murmurs through soft gasps. He meets your rhythm with powerful thrusts, each one driving deeper into you, matching your pace perfectly.

Feeling the pressure building within you, your moans grow louder. “I’m... close, ‘Samu,” you gasp, your trembling hands held onto his shoulders for support as you ride him faster, rolling your hips against his perfect sized cock feeling him hit every spot with his thrusts against you.

A smirk tugs at his lips as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah? Come all over my cock, love,” beads of sweat rolling down his temples, his words sending you spiraling closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you through the overwhelming waves of pleasure as your body trembles in his grasp.

The coil inside you finally snaps, releasing a wave of ecstasy that washes over you. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming, ah~ hmm~,” you cry out, your body going numb from the overwhelming pleasure. Your juices flow freely, spilling down and coating his cock as his thrusts become more intense, shaking your body upwards.

Dazai's growls of satisfaction mix with your moans as he thrusts upward forcefully, riding out his own climax. His body shudders with the release, and he moans loudly, his pleasure echoing through the room.

As the intense waves of pleasure begin to subside, Dazai slowly pulls out, his breath heavy and ragged. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close tenderly. The warmth of his embrace soothes you, bringing a sense of comfort and safety as you both calm down from your shared high. His fingers gently caress circles on your back, his breathing gradually steadying as he murmurs softly into your ear, “God, you did so well, my love.”

You watch him as he gets up, stretching slightly before heading towards the bathroom, the soft hum of water barely filling the room as he turns on the shower. The warmth of the bed still lingers around you, but it does little to quell the chill creeping into your thoughts.

Your mind drifts back to that moment a few days ago. The weight of the gun in your hand, the resistance of the trigger as you squeezed it—it's all so vivid, so real, that it feels as if you're still there, frozen in that moment. You can almost hear the echoes of the shot ringing in your ears, see the flash of surprise in his eyes as life slipped away from him.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the images, but they cling stubbornly, refusing to let go.

He calls your name from the shower, his voice gentle, inviting, yet tinged with concern when you don’t respond immediately. The sound is almost enough to pull you back, but your mind remains caught in that dark place, replaying the scene over and over.

"My love?" another call, softer this time, as he pushes the already ajar bathroom door further open to check on you. His presence pulls you back just enough to acknowledge him, to let the past slip away—at least for now.

His eyes meet yours, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself to sit up. “I’m fine,” You managed to get off the bed, the cool air brushing against your naked skin, grounding you somewhat.

As you step into the bathroom, your body moves on autopilot, but your mind remains distant. You tell yourself that in a week or so, the memory will fade, that the guilt will lessen, that you’ll forget. But deep down, you know it's just another lie you’re feeding yourself, another attempt to bury the truth under layers of denial.

He steps aside to let you join him under the warm cascade of water, his arms wrapping around you as he senses your unease. “Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re safe with me, my love.”

You nod, leaning into his embrace, but the words feel hollow, the comfort fleeting. The water washes over you, warm and soothing, but it can’t cleanse the darkness that lingers within.

You stood in front of the mirror, the dim light casting shadows on your face. Your reflection stared back at you, hollow eyes and a face pale from sleepless nights. The trauma of the past week weighed heavily on you, the memory of the blood-soaked room and the desperate cries of your ex replaying in your mind over and over again.

It had been a week since that horrifying event, but still the memory still clung to your mind like a stubborn stain. Dazai had been more affectionate than usual since then, uncharacteristically tender in his way.

The intimacy between you had taken on a new, softer turn, the moments shared tinged with an almost fragile gentleness. His eyes, once so sharp, now held an unsettling softness, as if he were trying to erase the darkness with his own brand of twisted comfort.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were trapped—caught in a web he’d spun so intricately that you hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.

You had tried to bury the memory, to push it away with every ounce of strength you had. But it never really left, lurking in the corners of your mind—what you had been forced to do.

You needed a break, a breath of fresh air, anything to push back the suffocating fog that had taken over your mind. So, you grabbed your coat, slipped into your favourite boots, and stepped out of your apartment, clinging to the hope of finding some shred of normalcy.

The bar was a refuge, a place where the world’s harsh edges seemed to dull. It was where you went to forget, even if only for a little while. As you walked through the door, the familiar clink of glasses and murmur of conversation welcomed you. The warmth inside, the smoky haze and soft jazz music they all played a part into easing you up even for a bit.

You made your way to the bar, your usual seat already occupied. The bartender greeted you with a nod, his understanding gaze a small comfort. You ordered your drink and settled into your chair, trying to shake off the lingering heaviness from the past week.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You picked it up and saw a message from Chuuya: "Hey, just checking in. Are you okay? I’m worried about you."

You typed back: "I’m fine, just needed some time to clear my head. At the bar now, trying to relax a bit." You hit send and put your phone down, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

That's when you heard a familiar voice. You looked up and saw Kaito standing there, a surprise that made your heart skip. It had been years since you last saw him. He was the one who had helped you escape from your ex's grip, the only person who had reached out to pull you from that nightmare.

“Hey..." he said, his voice warm but edged with worry. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You gestured to the empty seat beside you. “Sit. I could use the company.”

Kaito slid into the chair, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “You look... different. Is everything okay?”

The question was like a trigger, a floodgate that opened the dam of your emotions. You looked away, taking a deep breath. “It’s been... a rough week.”

He looked at you concerned, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he ordered a drink, and the two of you sat in silence for a while, before he broke the silence.

“I heard your ex went missing. I just wanted to check in...uh...make sure you’re alright. I know how much he hurt you.”

The mention of your ex was like a punch to the gut, the memory of that night resurfacing with cruel clarity. You struggled to keep your composure, taking a sip of your drink to steady yourself. “I... I don’t know what happened to him.”

Kaito’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. “I just wanted to make sure he’s not plotting anything or trying to reach you again. I know what he put you through.”

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. “Thank you...but seriously I don't know anything about him.”

Before Kaito could respond, your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it and saw a new message from Chuuya: “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

You were about to reply when Kaito’s voice broke through your thoughts. “ You okay? You seem a bit lost."

You forced a smile, brushing off the concern. “It’s nothing. I just needed a bit of air.”

You stood up, glancing at Kaito. “It was really nice seeing you after all tonight.”

You placed a few yen on the bar as a tip and offered Kaito a final, appreciative look before heading towards the door. Stepping out into the cool night air, you took a deep breath, hoping the walk would clear your head. Hearing the door swung shut behind you.

The crisp breeze brushed against your face as you began walking down the pavement, each step attempting to ground you in the present, you tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of your footsteps, letting the chill seep through your coat and numb your thoughts.

Just as you were beginning to lose yourself in the soothing cadence of the night, a familiar voice cut through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a voice you knew too well, one that you loved the most—Dazai’s.

Turning slowly, you saw him standing there, his figure framed by the dim streetlights.

“Out for a late-night stroll?” His voice was low and smooth so so smooth.

"Osamu" You whispered his name, barely audible over the street noise, as he approached you. His tall frame seemed to shield you from the harsh cold breeze that had been nipping at your skin.

His arms reached out, pulling you into a desperate, intense embrace. The warmth of his body pierced through the biting cold of the night. You closed your eyes, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his captivating perfume that you were addicted to.

“How are you feeling, my love?” the vibrations of his soft voice soothed you.

You murmured a reply, “Fine,” nuzzling your face into his warm chest. His coat offered a cocoon of comfort against the cold. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that both soothed and troubled you. His soft, cold lips brushed gentle kisses against your hairline, each touch leaving you wanting more.

Dazai’s gaze softened as he tilted your head gently, his fingers brushing against your cheeks with tender.

His lips, still cold from the evening air, found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of warmth that spread through you, making you forget the cold that had been clinging to you just moments before.

Your lips parted slightly, and you felt his bottom lip against yours, his kiss deepening as he traced a path of warmth across your mouth. His hands roamed softly over your body, every touch sending shivers down your spine.

When he pulled away, his eyes bore into yours filled with affection. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my love,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

“A surprise?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper as your heart fluttered. The night’s chill seemed to dissipate as you gazed up at him, eager to discover what he had under his sleeve.

Dazai’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he said, “Follow me, my love.” He guided you through the city streets, leading you to his penthouse—an opulent space you were intimately familiar with. As you entered, the familiar strains of soft jazz filled the room, its soothing melodies filled your ears.

You shrugged off your coat and sank into the nearby couch, glancing up at him curious.

“You know how much I cherish you, don’t you?”

You nodded, a shiver running down your spine. What is he intending to do?

“And you remember when I swore to protect you with my life, back when we shared our first night together?” His eyes bore into yours, searching for affirmation.

Again, you nodded, feeling a knot of unease tightening in your stomach.

He reached out and took your hand, leading you to a door you had never entered before. He typed in a series of digits, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh. What lay beyond sent a jolt of shock through you: Kaito, tied up against the wall with chains, his eyes wide with fear.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you stared at the scene in disbelief.

Dazai’s gaze on you never wavered. “You recognize him, don’t you? The one who claimed to be your savior,” he said, his voice carrying an edge of derision. “Kaito, the one who helped you escape. Such a noble act, don’t you think?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the sight before you. “No... no, this can’t be real,” you stammered, the words spilling from your lips in a disbelieving murmur. “This isn’t happening. Not again.”

Dazai stepped closer, his expression both smug and infuriatingly calm. “Isn’t it? How often have you been deceived by those who promised you protection and safety? This was no different.”

You shook your head, trying to process the absurdity of it all. “But Kaito—he was different! He helped me when I needed it most. You don't understand he's the only one who saved me from my ex.”

The disillusionment in your voice only seemed to amuse Dazai. “And you think that makes him any less of a threat? How easily you’ve been misled. Did you ever consider that he was simply another pawn in your ex’s game? A way to keep you within his reach?”

Your gaze shifted to Kaito, who was now looking at you with desperation. The realization that Dazai might be telling the truth hit you like a physical blow. “No, he can’t be. He was... he was kind to me. He never hurt me.”

Dazai’s gaze was unrelenting, his tone dripping with cold logic. “Kindness can be deceiving. Sometimes, it’s just a means to an end. Kaito’s actions were a calculated move, meant to keep you under control, to make you trust him while feeding information to your ex.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you faced Dazai, the weight of his words crushing you. “You’re... you’re insane! You can’t do this to me again. STOP IT STOP HURTING ME!”

Dazai’s hand reached up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold and unyielding, the warmth of his voice now a sharp contrast to the icy anger in his eyes. “I’m not insane. I’m showing you the truth, my love. Kaito was never your friend. If you don’t make a choice now, I will choose for you.”

The room seemed to close in around you, your heart pounding wildly. You were ensnared between the echoes of your past and the oppressive reality Dazai had crafted, desperately searching for an escape from the nightmare he had ensnared you in.

Dazai's lips curved into a passionate smile as he placed the cold, heavy gun into your trembling hands. The weapon, tainted with the blood of your ex, seemed to burn with its own malevolent energy. His eyes gleamed with a twisted sense of pride.

“Come on, my love,” he urged, his voice laced with a seductive intensity. “Take control of your own life. Show everyone that you’re not someone to be trifled with. Make them fear you. No one dares to hurt you again.”

His words echoed through the room, mingling with the suffocating tension that surrounded you. The weight of the gun felt like a cruel burden, a symbol of the power Dazai was forcing upon you.

As you looked at Kaito, bound and vulnerable, a storm of emotions raged inside you. Dazai’s gaze remained unwavering, his expectations clear: the choice was yours to make, but his influence loomed over every decision.

The gun felt like a leaden weight in your hands, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you. Tears streamed down your face as you crumpled, the gun slipping from your grasp and clattering to the floor. Your voice, choked with despair, broke through the oppressive silence.

“I can’t do this again... not again,” you sobbed, shaking your head furiously. You pulled your legs to your chest, curling up in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the cruelty of Dazai’s demands.

Dazai’s expression shifted from steely determination to a weary sigh. With a resigned shake of his head, he stepped forward, reclaiming the gun from where it had fallen. His movements were deliberate, almost tender, as he aimed it at Kaito, who stared back in terror.

Three shots rang out, each one echoing with finality. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the room and drowning out your anguished cries. The finality of the act left you in stunned silence, your body trembling as you remained huddled on the floor, the gravity of what had just occurred sinking in.

“No... you didn’t...” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your eyes were fixed on the lifeless form of Kaito, disbelief and anguish washing over you.

Dazai’s sigh was heavy with disappointment as he shook his head slowly. “I’m disappointed in you, my love,” he said, his voice carrying a cold edge. “You couldn’t take control of your life this time. You think I’m the one hurting you? They’re the ones who’ve been hurting you all along.”

His gaze was unwavering, a mixture of pity and resolve in his eyes as he stepped closer. “I did this to protect you from them, to ensure that you’re never vulnerable again. It’s always been about keeping you safe from those who would harm you. I did what was necessary to shield you from your past.”

You shook your head violently, the world around you spinning as you scrambled to your feet. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you to the door. You flung it open and sprinted down the hall, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Where are you going my love, please come back.” His footsteps pounded after you. “Don’t do this. I love you! This is meaningless—everything I did was to protect you!”

But you couldn’t bear to hear him anymore. “I want to stay away from you!” you screamed, your voice cracking with raw desperation.

You burst out of his penthouse and into the cold night air, the chill biting at your exposed skin. Your vision blurred with tears, making the city lights shimmer and swirl. You fumbled for your phone, dialing Chuuya’s number with trembling fingers.

The line rang a few times before a sleepy voice answered, muffled by grogginess. “Chuuya...” you gasped between breaths. “I—I'm leaving. I—will run away from here. He did it again, Chuuya.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by Chuuya’s urgent voice, now fully awake. “Where are you? Are you safe? Just stay on the line. I’m coming to get you.”

Your voice trembled as you spoke into the phone, trying to keep your words steady despite the panic swelling inside you. “Chuuya, no… don’t come. Please. I don’t want you to get into trouble. I’ll… I’ll manage to get away by myself.”

Chuuya’s voice was firm and insistent. “Don’t be stupid. I’m coming. Just tell me where you are.”

You forced yourself to keep moving, trying to steady your breath despite the adrenaline coursing through you. “Chuuya, listen to me,” you said, your voice shaking. “I just called to let you know. I need you to stay out of this. It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt because of me.”

“I don’t like this at all. You’re obviously not okay. I need to be there with you.” You could hear the sounds of him hurriedly getting dressed in the background.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya, but I can't-” you said firmly.

Before he could protest further, you ended the call, the sound of the disconnect echoing in the quiet of the night.

You made your way through the winding streets, heading towards a nondescript building nestled away from prying eyes. It had been your refuge years before, a place where you could escape the chaos and find peace in solitude. Now, it was the final sanctuary you turned to as you prepared to leave everything behind.

The old studio was just as you remembered it—dusty but comforting, filled with the quiet hum of memories. You approached the closet where you had stored a suitcase, its worn exterior a testament to its many years of service. You opened it, the familiar smell of old leather and fabric greeting you.

With calculated movements, you began packing the clothes you’d kept from simpler times—soft sweaters, faded jeans, and a few cherished pieces that held fragments of your past. Each item you folded and placed into the suitcase carried a piece of who you used to be, the person you were before the mafia and before Dazai.

As you worked, the thought of leaving Dazai behind gnawed at you, filling you with an intense, suffocating agony. Despite everything he had done, the idea of severing ties with him was a painful wrenching of the heart. Yet, the realization that staying would only bring more torment drove you to continue, each movement of packing a silent affirmation of your resolve.

You zipped up the suitcase, the sound of the closure echoing in the empty room. The decision to leave the city and all its shadows behind was a heavy one, but necessary. With a final glance around the studio, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey ahead. The train would take you far from this place, and despite the heartache, you knew it was the only way forward.

Before you could make another move, a voice cut through the silence of the studio. "My love, are you leaving me?" The words were laced with a deep sadness, sending a jolts all over your body.

You spun around, disbelief etched across your face. "How did you find me?" you demanded, your voice trembling.

Dazai stood in the doorway with a hurt expression written all over his face.

He stepped closer sighing, "The bracelet,” he said quietly, holding up your wrist to reveal the piece of jewelry you had thought was a mere token of affection given to you two years ago. “It has a tracker embedded in it. I had it activated in case you were ever in danger.”

The weight of his words hit you like a physical blow. The realization that he had been monitoring you all along, even in your attempts to escape, left you reeling. You stared at him, your resolve faltering but your heart aching with an overwhelming confusion.

“Why did you have to follow me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

He took another step closer, his gaze pleading. “Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you. I know you're probably thinking that I’m just some insane man who’s only hurting you. But you have to understand, my actions come from a place of deep love. I need you to see past the madness and understand how much you mean to me.”

"Is this how you show love, Dazai? By trapping me and manipulating me?" you said, your voice trembling. "You don't get to decide what's best for me by controlling every aspect of my life."

Dazai's expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m twisted and flawed, but I thought... I thought that if I could keep you close, I could protect you from everything else. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You shook your head, the finality of your decision settling in. “You’ve hurt me more than you know. I can’t stay here. I can't stay anxious, wondering who you’ll force me to kill next.”

Dazai’s eyes grew darker, his voice tainted with desperation. “I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. Everything I did was to keep you safe in comtrol of your own life, even if it means making terrible choices.”

You scoffed, “Safe? You forced me to kill my ex! And then Kaito?”

Dazai’s face tightened. “He was a traitor. He manipulated you all this time. I told you.”

“Even if!” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I wanted them dead? I never wanted any of this! You think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is turning my life into a nightmare, forcing me to make impossible choices.”

He reached out, but you flinched away. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice cracking with uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I know I’ve gone too far. I only wanted to protect you, but I see now that I’ve lost sight of what’s right.”

The realization hit you hard. “Lost sight of what’s right? You’ve lost sight of everything that matters. I’m leaving, Dazai. I can’t stay here any longer.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with pain, that you've never seen before, “Please, don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just... stay and let me fix this.”

You shook your head, “It’s too late. I can’t trust you anymore. I need to get away from this life, from you. Goodbye, Dazai.”

Turning around you held the suitcase tightly, your hand shaking as you reached for the door. Just as you were about to open it, the sharp click of a gun safety being disengaged froze you in place.

You turned slowly, your eyes widening in horror as you saw Dazai standing there. The cold, manipulative mafia boss you had come to fear and loathe was now a broken man, his usual confident demeanor shattered. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat of his desperate resolve.

The gun was pressed against his temple, his hand trembling slightly. His gaze was locked onto you, the anguish in his eyes more raw than you’d ever seen. The sight was a gut-wrenching contrast to the man you had known—this was not the calculating Dazai but a man at the edge of his sanity, driven to an extreme.

“Don’t... don’t do this,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Dazai, put the gun down.”

His tears fell faster, “If you leave, I can’t bear it. I’d rather end it all than live with the fact that I lost you.”

You took a step toward him, the suitcase slipping from your grip as fear and heartbreak twisted inside you. “Dazai, please. Put the gun down. We can figure this out.”

His voice trembled, a fragile whisper on the brink of breaking. “I never valued life until you entered mine. If you choose to leave, then I too must follow.”

You rushed towards him, heart pounding with desperation. As you approached, you gently took the gun from his trembling hand, lowering it to the floor. His body crumpled, and he collapsed into your embrace, clutching you tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered soothingly, your own voice trembling as you tried to calm him. You stroked his brunet soft hair gently, your heart aching as you held him close. “It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll figure this out together.”

His sobs were muffled against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he clung to you. " I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry I'm sorry.”

You continued to soothe him, the weight of his despair pressing heavily on your chest. You could see through his anguish, past the facade of his calculated mind to the raw, broken man beneath. Even as his twisted personality had driven him to force your hand, there was no denying the genuine love he felt—a love that, despite its darkness, was deeply real.

The room, dim and cold, was filled with the sound of his muffled sobs, each breath a testament to his remorse and anguish. You held him tightly, trying to offer comfort, though your own heart ached with uncertainty. You knew too well the manipulative games he played, but in this moment, you could see the truth in him. His despair was not a ploy, but a genuine expression of his torment and love.

Gently, you reached up and removed the soaked bandage from his eye. His gaze locked onto yours, filled with a sorrow so profound it was almost unbearable. His face was etched with the pain of his past actions, and as you held him, you admired his beautiful brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw and fragile. “I’ll never do this again. I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I was desperate, and I let my own twisted mind control me. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll do everything to make this right. Please... stay with me.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerable man who had been pushed to extremes. The cold dim room seemed to shrink around you, the shadows of his past mistakes lingering but overshadowed by his sincere apology. You took a deep breath, your own heart softening despite the pain.

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your voice was soothing him.

He nodded against your shoulder, his sobs gradually subsiding as he clung to you.

“Despite everything... despite your scheming and the cold, manipulative persona you put up, you have no idea how much I love you,” you whispered, the words heavy with the depth of your emotions.

Dazai’s eyes softened as he met your gaze, his voice trembling as he replied, “I love you too, my dear.”

With those words, he kissed you softly, his lips warm and tender against yours. The delicate caress of his kiss pulled you closer, making you surrender to the embrace he offered. In that fleeting moment, the outside world faded away, leaving only the solace of his arms and the twisted love you shared.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

[mindless-existence1]

Request: "Can you write a oneshot featuring Aizawa Shouta with self bondage and gags please? In the fic, he gets the idea to try out self bondage in his apartment. You can decide on how he ties himself and with what toys. But I'd like it if he used a tape gag and was unable to escape his bonds, meaning he'd be stuck in bondage and orgasming the whole night."

Authors note/info about the story: This is male reader who works as a teacher at UA and is a prohero. You have a crush on Aizawa and he has a crush on you. I fear I'm obsessed with submissive men 😔😔Enjoy~~

Word count: 1,611

Masterlist Link

REQUESTS OPEN PLS SEND!

Warnings: Self bondage, super overstimulation, sex toys, multiple orgasams, dry orgasm at the end (I fear om obsessed with them 😔)

Aizawa knew this was a bad idea, he knew this was kind of a terrible idea. But he couldn't push down his desires, plus he knew it was mostly a safe plan...mostly. All he had to do was be as careful as possible.

He had finished school for the day about an hour ago and was finally headed home (yeah ik it's technically a dorm but let's pretend it's a bit more like an apartment complex type situation) He just wanted to...spice things up tonight.

All day it felt like you had been teasing him and he couldn't get the thought of you out of his head. Why did your hero suit have to make you so fucking sexy? It drove him out of his mind.

You had been way more touchy then usual today and he almost had to rub one off like a teenager in the staff bathroom. So now in the privacy of his own home he can take care of the erection that's been forming all day.

He took off his shoes at the door and instead of taking off his hero clothes like normal he kept them on. You always said you hot he looked in uniform so he wanted to keep it on.

He went to his drawers and pulled out one of his sinful toys. He bought it in an act of desperation years ago and only used it when he really needed to, like right now.

It was a vibrating cock ring that wouldn't stop him from coming, it was a win win and he always felt a little guilty about buying it. Even so it did come in handy in times like this.

He put some lube on his hands and jerked himself to full hardness before slipping on the ring. He let out a low groan and pumped himself a few more times. He kept the remote in one of his hands so he could change the setting even when tied up.

Now on the bed Aizawa expertly tied his legs first and arms later to the bed posts, with a swift motion he wrapped it around his mouth as well. He strategically kept the end peice hanging next to one of his hands. This was so when he was done he could pull on the end and free himself from the binds (idk how knots and stuff works so pretend this makes sense).

With a deep breath through his nose Aizawa clicked the first setting of the ring. A soft buzz filled his ears and his hips jerked slightly at the feeling. He quickly turned it up a level to give him more stimulation. He moaned through the gag and closed his eyes.

He let the feeling wash over him. "Mmmh hmnnn" he whined through the gag, turning up the vibrations to a faster pace. Aizawa choked on a moan at the intense change. The feeling of vibrations felt foreign but oh so good.

Aizawa changed the level up again finally reaching the highest setting. The moan he let out was borderline pornagraphic, bucking his hips upward into the air he whined into the gag.

It didn't take long for him to reach his climax, the orgasm building up in his gut. He came with a low groan into the cloth. Aizawa felt extremely messy as the cum got on his hero suit. After a second of riding himself through the intense pleasure he went to turn the ring off.

In an instant he was washed over in a wave of panic when the remote fell from his hand. He tried calming himself by reaching for the end of his binding cloth but when he pulled there was no give. Why was there no give??? Aizawa must have used this cloth hundreds of times without mistakes. So why now of all times did he mess it up????

He couldn't think straight enough to get an answer with the relentless abuse of his poor cock. The ring still pulsing at its high level, he let out a broken sob, all of it muffled by the damn binding cloth wrapper around his mouth.

His hips were moving on their own accord as best they could. Aizawa tried tugging and pulling at the cloth but to no avail. His wrists were starting to get sore and his legs ached at the position he tied them in.

After coming again he could feel pain seeping into the pleasure. There was nothing he could do, he wouldn't be able to handle the embarrassment of screaming into the gag as best he could in hopes someone would hear.

The only people he lived by were his coworkers/friends and nothing would be worth having to face whoever came to his rescue the next day.

An image of you flashed in Aizawa's mind and he let out a whine at the thought. You lived close by, just a door down the hall. He gave you a key to his apartment (I know it's a dorm don't come after me), along with Mic. You were probably up right now, grading papers or watching TV.

He knew about your bad sleeping habits, he knew there was a good chance you were up right now. He imagined you touching yourself to, just down the hall. He imagined you waling in and seeing him like this. The thought was all it took to push him over the edge for a third time that night.

There was dried and wet cun alike on his clothes, he felt like a gross mess. All he could think about was you and how he wanted it to be you giving him all this pleasure and not just some toy.

Aizawa was now fully sobbing into the gag, it was wetted with tears. The vibrater kept going, and with each pulse he knew he was a goner.

~~~~~~~~Time skip to later that night~~~~~~~~~

His body felt like it was on fire, everything hurt and the pain was overtaking the pleasure. Every pulse of the vibrater brought a new flow of tears to his eyes. Despite what he wanted he felt the burning sensation of another orgasm building up in his chest. He let out a hiccuping sob into the cloth covering his mouth.

The overwhelming pleasure from his orgasm made him throw his head back as best he could. It was dry and raw and was ripped out of him. In his blessed out state, despite the continuous stimulation to his aching cock, he didn't hear the knocking at the door.

He also didn't hear you coming in, "Hey Shota, sorry to barge in but can you-" the words you were trying to say were lost as you took in the sight before you. He looked so pretty, tied up and clothed with just his cock out. Sweating and covered in his own come, you were so tempted to take a photo but assumed that wouldn't go over well.

"Shota...what?" Again the words died in your throat when Aizawa looked up and saw you gawking at him. He whined a high pitch moan, desperately squirming. He wanted to cover himself and preferably go die in a hole, never to be seen again by specifically you.

"Ummm tphh mmmm" He tried begging to you through the binding cloth but couldn't make anything sound coherent. "Shota, do you need help?" You hesitantly asked, not wanting to overstep. Aizawa quickly nodded his head praying you would get the message. You dropped the paper in your hands and rushed over to the bed.

After a minute of fiddling with the cloth, along with trying to ignore the moaning man under you who was still having his dick abused by the vibrater. Also trying to ignore your own growing erection.

You finally got the cloth completely undone and off of him, he immediately went to take the vibrater off his leaking dick. Aizawa was panting and breathing out light "Thank you"s. He wanted to say more, to explain himself, but he couldn't find the words. Even if he could his throat was scratchy and he desperatly needed water.

You were now sitting on the bed facing each other, maybe a bit closer then friends should be but neither of you wanted to move. The tiered man rested his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, to weak to keep it up himself.

After a second of silence you spoke up "If I was a bit more greedy I'd think you put on this show for me." You leaned forward slightly to whisper in his ear. His breath hitched at your tone. "I-" He didn't know how to explain himself so you kept talking.

"Didn't think you'd be this kinky Shota but I guess it is always the quiet ones. Plus i mean you did come up with a weapon called a 'binding cloth' so maybe I should have expected this." Your voice teasing but filled with lust, hot breath blew over his ear making them tinted red. M.

"I always hoped I could see you like this but that was mostly just wishful thinking." You laughed again, this time at Aizawa's reaction. In his blessed out state he leaned back and looked you in the eyes. His face was flushed and his eyes seem glazed over but they were fixed on you.

"What?" Is all he asked, it made you chuckle and take his face in your hands. He half hoped expected you to kiss him but instead you leaned in to his ear, you gave it a teasing nible before whispering. "Shota I've been wanting to fuck you since the first day I started working at UA."

[philokaliist]

'Fire'

Clarisse La Rue with a girlfriend who's similar to her hc's! 💋

A/N:MADE FOR MY FRIEND BC SHE'S LITERALLY LIKE AN ANGRY CHIHUAHUA BUT I STILL LOVE HERRR

So Clarisse would totally be into someone with an even worse temper than hers,like they'd have epic shouting matches that end in intense make-out sessions most of the time.

I feel like she would constantly challenge you to sparring matches, pushing each other to the limits just to prove who's the ultimate warrior. Like, "Come on,pretty thing, let's see what you've got!"

But picture this: she LOVES it when you share battle strategies with her, even if you disagree. It's like, "Yeah, yeah, your plan's trash,but I like the fire in your eyes."

I feel like she would steal your fries at the campfire and then pretend like nothing happened. And if you confront her, she'd just smirk and say, "Survival of the fittest,babe."

Clarisse is totally the type to challenge you to a duel over the smallest things, like who gets the last chocolate chip cookie. It's all in good fun, though – a way to keep the relationship spicy.

She deff has a secret stash of soft, romantic poetry hidden somewhere, and she'll deny it vehemently if you ever find out. But deep down, she loves that you appreciate her softer side.

Imagine her dragging you into impromptu late-night training sessions, demanding you prove your strength at the most inconvenient times. "A true warrior never rests,mamas."

She LOVES it when you compliment her battle scars, seeing them as badges of honor. It's like her version of sweet talk, and she'll proudly recount the stories behind each scar.

I feel like she would secretly enjoy cuddling after a tough day, pretending she's just doing it to help you relax. But truthfully, she craves those quiet moments of intimacy.

HEAR ME OUT,so she would totally write you cheesy love letters but hide them under the guise of strategic notes. It's like, "This battle plan is foolproof, just like my love for you."

Imagine her getting jealous when other demigods stare at you, but she'd never admit it. Instead, she'd just wrap her arm around you possessively and shoot them a death glare.

She deff has a soft spot for your cooking, even if she insists on calling it "acceptable" or "not terrible." But deep down, she appreciates the effort you put into making meals for her.

I feel like she would have a secret collection of cute, heartwarming animal videos that she watches when no one's around. It's her guilty pleasure, and she'd deny it vehemently if caught.

Imagine her surprising you with impromptu adventures outside of camp, like a spontaneous road trip or a daring quest. She'd act all tough, but it's her way of showing she values shared experiences.

So she would absolutely love it when you challenge her authority, whether it's in battle or decision-making. It's like a constant power struggle that keeps things exciting.

I also feel like she would lowkey enjoy participating in camp pranks with you, reveling in the chaos and mischief. It's her way of letting loose and embracing the lighter side of life.

She LOVES it when you challenge her to a friendly competition, whether it's archery or a climbing race. It's like, "Winner gets bragging rights for a week!"

She deff calls you out on your anger issues, but in that tough-love way that only Clarisse can pull off. It's like, "Princess,chill before you burn the whole camp down!"

Honestly,she would low-key love the fact that you can match her in the anger department.Like, "Finally, someone who gets it!" They're like the most chaotic duo of Camp Half-Blood.

A/N:Another quick drabble for this morning before I mentally kms from doing hw (p.s:I won't even open the book.)

[noirsfantasy]

On the sixth day of Christmas...

𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Gregory Eddie x Black!Fem Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔥 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛968

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It’s Christmas time, but you felt that there was something missing. It was festive enough. You wanted to do something that would blow your boyfriend’s mind away. So you hid mistletoe in every corner you could reach, and even in some you couldn’t. This is definitely gonna spice some things up.

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Y’all, let me tell you. Gregory Eddie? He’s so fine and I don’t know what it is about awkward men, but it’s so fun to mess with them. I feel like when I was writing this, some might think y/n is modeled after Janine. But I assure you, that is not the case. Honestly, I feel like, if he were in the real world, his girlfriend would be something like this. It really would be so cute. But yeah, just keep in mind that y/n is a bit on the shorter side. It’s up to you how short😌 Enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

The festive spirit fills the air as I scurry around our home, determined to turn it into a winter wonderland. I've put up lights and every decoration I could find. But my true masterpiece is the rows upon rows of mistletoe. There isn't a single spot without mistletoe somewhere near it. And, despite my short stature, I even managed to get them in the high spots. Of course, as a finishing touch, I placed the final sprig right on top of my head. Brilliant!

One might wonder, why do I need this much mistletoe? But I've got a plan in place. As I stand back to admire my handiwork, I can't help but grin with anticipation. Gregory Eddie, my lovable and slightly clueless boyfriend, is about to walk into the ultimate Christmas surprise. And I'll finally be able to get what I've been longing for. Endless kisses.

I hear the front door creak open and I can barely contain my excitement. I'm currently in the kitchen, having just put some cookies in the oven, but I wait to hear Greg's reaction.

"Um, Y/N?" He calls, setting his bag down by the door as he takes in the appearance of our apartment. "Why does it look like Christmas threw up in here?" I giggle and make my way over to the door, attacking him with a hug.

"Oh, you know, just spreading some holiday cheer! And, uh, just hoping for some mistletoe magic." I say with a mischievous smile as I point to the mistletoe on top of my head. He looks at me with confusion.

"Mistletoe magic?" I nod, deciding it's time to reveal my secret weapon, needing to step up my game to get him to realize. I pull out another hidden mistletoe from behind my back and hold it above my head.

"Ta-da! Now, according to my brilliant plan, you have to give me a kiss." I say, matter of factly. Greg stares at me for a moment, before bursting out laughing at my plan. However, he can't resist my charm either, so he leans down and gives me a sweet kiss. I smile into the kiss, doing a small victory dance when he pulls away.

"So, is this going to happen every time we walk under mistletoe?" He chuckles as I nod enthusiastically. "You and your mistletoe antics, Y/N. You're something else." He leans down for another kiss, this one deeper than before, "I love you, crazy."

"I love you, too!" I reply with a bright look in my eyes. Greg lifts me up into his arms and carries me to the couch, sitting down and pulling me into his lap.

Surrounded by the glow of Christmas lights, Greg eyes the strategically placed mistletoe with a bemused smile. "So, how many of these did you put up?" He asks me. I shrug my shoulders, counting on my fingers and pretending to ponder.

"Well, let's see... I lost count after twenty. But I just figured that more mistletoe equals more kisses."

"You know you don't need to set traps like this to get me to kiss you right?" He tells me, his thumbs drawing circles on my hips.

"I knowww, but at least, this way, it's more festive!" I give him a cute smile as I explain my reasoning. Greg can't help but grin at my adorable face. He pulls me close, pecking my lips.

"Maybe next time, instead of hanging mistletoe, you could wrap yourself in tinsel and wait in a present box for me." He suggests jokingly. I smirk and raise an eyebrow.

"Don't tempt me now." Greg chuckles, kissing me on the cheek.

"You're such a mischievous little monster, you know that? Even when I think I have you all figured out, you always come up with some new devious plan to make me fall in love with you even more."

"What can I say? I am a woman of many talents." I say with a casual shrug. Greg grins back at me.

“That you are… That you are. Do you think you’ll still be pranking me when we’re old and gray?” He raises an eyebrow and sighs, “Who am I kidding… Of course you will be.” I laugh loudly at that.

"I mean, come on, it's obvious this is only the beginning." I give him a playful nudge as I lean forward and wrap my arms around his neck. Greg laughs along with me, pulling me closer.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you, Y/N, with your pranks and your silliness and your mistletoe and everything about you." I kiss him longingly, enjoying the soft feeling of his lips against mine, even if I've felt it a million times.

"I love you too, Greg... even when you're a little slow to figure out my pranks." I tease causing Greg to laugh again. I pull him in for an exaggerated kiss. It's playful at first, but then it transforms into a deep passionate kiss that causes me to blush. Just when things are getting good, I hear the ding of the oven, signaling that my baking is finished. We break the kiss and I sigh heavily, sliding off of Greg's lap and standing up.

"I need to go get those before they burn," I announce and he stands up, a cheeky grin on his face.

"It's okay, babe, you go get those, I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Then we can get back to the program." He wiggles his eyebrows and I laugh as I nod, heading into the kitchen. As I remove the cookies from the oven and turn it off, I hear Greg from the bathroom.

"REALLY, Y/N?? IN THE DAMN TOILET?!" He shouts, causing me to burst out into laughter. I forgot I left that there.

[smiley-mcdoggington]

I respectfully ask for more Omega Stan and Omega Ford. Like I go back to that story you wrote a lot. I love how Ford sees Stan all needy and goes yeah I can see why Alpha would like this. Like in the future idk if Ford would have to pretend to be an Alpha to get good jobs (because of Omega discrimination or something?) and people don’t believe he’s an alpha until they see his Omega Stan and they’re like “you know what, yeah that’s an Alpha and Omega pair right there”

I also just picture to that even if Stan was an Alpha he’d be very pliant and willing for Ford. So like it was predestined for them to be together.

Also Ford would have so much fun teaching Stan everything about being an Omega probably even a hands on lesson.

Idk you write veryyyyyy good

>:D I WOULD LOVE TO WRITE MORE OMEGA STAN AND OMEGA FORD THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ON WRITING ANOTHER LITTLE ONESHOT BUT FOR NOW HERE'S THE ANSWERS TO UR QUESTIONS:

Ford would absolutely impersonate an Alpha, he needs the autonomy, yk? Other people trying to say what they think is best for him makes him wanna crawl out of his skin, and scouts saying it's a waste to give a scholarship to someone thats going to settle down in a few years and quit his job for child rearing is frustratingly common, so he covers his own scent with thick patches under thick sweaters and then steals his Pa's worn suit jackets to put on top. He also tries to start boxing again but after seeing something Off with the way opponents treat Stanley, he quits and begs Stan to quit too (Stan doesn't) and starts just working out in his room. No one from west coast tech comes to offer a full ride to some broke, Jewish omega from Jersey, when the principal pushes college for Ford he does it saying it's good for children to be raised with an educated parent at home. He ends up getting into Backupsmore with a full ride because of his grades and as far as anyone but the acceptance board knows, he's just a scrawny alpha.

Stan on the other hand gets mistaken for an alpha sometimes completely by accident, just because he's loud and brash and husky. He doesn't mind being known, though, and hey, if letting the neck of his shirt ride low or arching just a little when he's leaning toward someone let's him get what he wants, it's honestly their fault for getting scammed. Filbrick calls him a whore, he calls it strategic. Plus, it helps with Ford's pretend alpha scam. He will play a beta or an alpha for a quick buck, but usually it's more profitable to be an omega. Plus he gets real smug when an alpha tries to say he'll show him a real good time and won't take no for an answer and Stan can just lean back on his skinny ass brother and have Ford get all possessive. He will knock their skull in if they take up Ford on the challenge, but that rarely happens, Ford's got a strong voice and a strong presence.

[faketrex]

The cakegate bodyswap ficlet I posted a few days ago stands alone as a one-shot... and also, if you were wondering what happens next... here's the next bit of that story.

This a work in progress, y'all, be forewarned! To be continued.

...

SHARING A SLICE... part 2

RWRB, rated T, 600 words (this part).

(click here for part 1)

...

For all Alex had complained about it – being forced to waste his weekend celebrating the marriage of someone he didn't know and a monarchy he wished didn't exist – the plan had been simple.

Fly to England. Sleep, hopefully. Get ready in the morning. Attend Prince Philip's wedding. Drink as much expensive booze and eat as many canapés as possible before getting scolded by June, then compare numbers with Nora. Think dark thoughts about the American Revolution and how, if you asked Alex, it should have been more comprehensive. Stay away from Henry. Leave.

Now, he's standing in a stupid fancy, ugly fancy, break-something-and-get-tossed-in-a-dungeon fancy room with Henry, covered in cake. And he's in the wrong fucking body.

Shit got complicated.

“You can’t leave,” Henry insists, hands on hips in a way that would look silly even if it didn't leave frosting handprints on his pants. (It does.)

“I'm sure as shit not staying.”

“Alex–”

“Do you seriously think I'd stick around after you – I don't even know what to call it. Bodysnatch? Bodyswap?”

“How the bloody hell should I know? You're the one to blame.”

“Me,” Alex scoffs, weirded out by how snooty it sounds in his – Henry's – voice but not letting that temper his anger, “you think I did this? Are you fucking joking?”

“It's quite clear that you dislike me.” Henry shakes his head, making crumbs shower down out of his – Alex's – curls. “I suspect you would take any opportunity to embarrass me.”

“Whatever, it’s still your fault. You know what? I bet it's a curse. Hundreds of years of racist, imperialist, monarchical bullshit and someone finally got fed up and cursed your family's asses.”

Henry stares at him. “Are you mad?”

“It makes sense! Your brother's in line for the throne. Curse the cake, so when he eats the first bite, bam, you've cursed the future king.”

“You are mad, and you've stolen my body, too–”

“Would you like to share your theory, Prince Perfect?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “My point stands. You need to stay.”

“Do you know the expression, ‘get the hell out of Dodge?’ You should, it's–”

“We need to fix–”

The door opens, admitting a tall man with an impressively neutral expression. Alex would be laughing his ass off at the sight of Henry covered in cake. Unfortunately, he's a little preoccupied right now.

“Your royal highness.” The man nods. “Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I’m afraid it's taking longer than anticipated to prepare your transportation, due to your current state of dress.”

Alex can translate: nobody wants frosting all over their town car.

Henry-as-Alex nods politely, then he and the man both look at Alex, waiting. It must be a ridiculous royal protocol thing. Alex needs to pretend he's Henry.

“Thank you,” Alex says haltingly. “That's... fine.”

“Yes, thank you,” Henry echoes, suspiciously fast, “but actually, his royal highness just suggested we reconvene at Kensington Palace.”

Alex did not fucking say that.

“Oh?”

Henry continues before Alex can get a word in. “Since we'll need clean-up for this… event… in more ways than one, he kindly offered the use of Kensington for... strategic planning.”

Alex would not fucking say that.

Both of them are looking expectantly at Alex-as-Henry again.

Alex fumes. Henry's right. They have to figure this out somehow, probably together. It's bad enough pretending to be Henry in front of just one person.

“Yeah. Let's all... go. To Kensington. Please.”

“Very well, your royal highness. I'll inform Mr. Claremont-Diaz’s entourage.”

What Alex wouldn't give to have the simple plan back.

…

(Part 3)

[moonyasnow]

All the characters I'd considered shipping my OCs with before I decided

Quick thing bc I'm bored

Not gonna include Lisle bc AroAce and also not Tomoe, since she existed before I decided to put all the others into TWST so shipping for her was just...kinda vibes-based, and not in the good way. Like I'd barely even figured out her character yet

And for Irina, Junia and Artemisia, the reason none of the others were chosen were literally just because their current partner was SO perfect for them I couldn't have gone with anyone else

Irina

Kalim (I think this is one of the more unhealthy relationships she could end up on. Not because he'd treat her badly, of course not; Kalim's just the sort who represses all his trauma (he straight up doesn't remember all the times he's been kidnapped) and I just feel like, paired with Irina, she'd just keep holding all the bad stuff in forever and pretending like everything's ok)

Ruggie (I think this would've been pretty cute. They're still good friends now though...and I honestly think they work better as just friends)

Floyd (Irina still literally had a crush on him before she fell for Malleus, so this one didn't even 100% go away. But yeah the reasons I considered it was because I think they match each other's freak in an interesting way. And Irina also knows exactly what it's like to always go through moodswings, so they can understand each other in that way. ...Irina would've loved the biting and squeezing so much tho-)

Leona (THE BAD TIMELINE. I'm not kidding. These two would in the best case scenario keep each other from improving and in the worst case actively make each other and their issues worse.)

Spike

Silver (literally the only NRC guy I could think of who'd be nice enough to be Spike's type)

Junia

Jade (Giving 'the straight-laced science girl' vibes but genderbent. Clueless autistic and clueful autistic)

Azul (I think it would've been cute bc Junia is the type who is just, so smitten with whoever she likes, and it's VERY obvious. And she'd think he was really really pretty and would love like, sitting in his lap when he scams people)

Veronica

@babyghoul138 :)

Ace (For a while I was actually even gonna go with this one long-term! Even made a meme including the ship and everything. Even started planning out a fankid! But then I realized I'd miscalculated and they just wouldn't work as well together as I thought. And I think Ace is just a bit too rough around the edges personality-wise for Veronica)

Sebek (This could actually have been a reaaaaaally interesting one. The thing that kept me from going with it was just that- Veronica wants to leave Briar Valley after she graduates. And Sebek would never leave Briar Valley. And as much as angst CAN be nice, I prefer it when couples are driven apart by stuff like war or disapproving families rather than just mundane stuff like that. Makes it too real, and just kinda depressing)

Victor

Jamil (Jamitor would be toxic yaoi central. Victor would be SUCH an enabler like 'yes, let's kick that smiling idiot (Kalim) to the curb and put you on the throne! Oh villainy looks so good on you~'. Then with their powers combined they would go on to rule the world.)

Azul (They've got suuuuuuuch similar trauma. And I imagine it'd start out with them 'dating' as like a business arrangement-- being married to each other would be good strategically for both of them and their goals; Azul gets access to a whole noble house's worth of funds and private lands, and Victor gets easy access to some of the best people in business. And then it'd turn into a thing of them both catching feelings realizing just how similar they are and can both relate to each other's trauma. They would also go on to rule the world.)

His ships with someone similar to him just made him too powerful

Artemisia

Idia (I decided not to go with this one 1) because as soon as Artemisia met Jamil I just know he'd be IT for her and 2) Artemidia would just kinda feel like them giving up and deciding to become hermits who don't leave their rooms TOGETHER and that to me was just way too sad)

Leona (They were already kinda friends in the background, and I couldn't stop thinking of the reference potential to Kimba the white lion. And just like with Idia, the biggest reason why not is Jamil.)

[eggsyondaside24]

My stupid lil' Hunger Games OC, Toby Morrow :D

District 9 male, 69th Hunger Games

17 years old

INTP

Toby is the Capitol’s golden boy of the games. Not only was he good looking (even if I drew him looking like a goblin. I CANT DRAW HOT MEN IM SORRY), but he put up this cheeky and down-to-earth front by interacting with surveillance cameras in the training gym (smiling, gesturing, making a face when he failed, etc). The District 1 female, thinking Toby could be useful through bringing the vibes in the pack, invited him in and was (generally) accepted by the careers. Then he dropped that his mother was a long-lost Capitolite (long story, I’ll talk about it in her post). So… everyone and their mothers were rooting for him.

Despite the hard work Toby put into being a Capitol darling, he’d been doing all of this to avoid hurting his mentor’s feelings, and not bcuz he genuinely wants to live. In reality, he wanted to jump off the platform and blow up. Why? Because his life SUCKED. Toby developed a nihilistic outlook because of growing up in poverty for most of his life, so he didn’t have many hopes and dreams lol. Thing is, Toby had Anaiya, the 60th victor, as his mentor. She hasn’t had a victor in 9 years, so she was on the verge of going a little crazy. Not wanting to be a complete let down, Toby would pretend to strategize so save her a bit of grief (while making sure she expected him to die). 

But then… the funniest thing happened! He realized that being a victor comes with some really cool benefits. Mainly: He can finally leave his boring ass village and pursue the things he actually wants to do. At first, he resisted the temptation to stay alive since someone else already had their life figured out and had people back home cheering for them, but Anaiya convinced him that he deserved to start actually living. So yeah he changed plans and decided to stay alive. 

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) au where adam and lawrence lose touch after adam is saved from the bathroom without his help, both assuming in the aftermath that the other never wants to see him again -- lawrence doesn't even know adam made it out for the longest time. after that he thinks of him daily, particularly lingering on the memory of adam spilling why he took the job to stalk lawrence.

i'm good at it and i need the money. i, uh. i'm.... pregnant. i can barely scrape by just feeding myself and paying rent, so....

he remembered, vaguely, having placed one bloody hand on adam's cheek and one on his still-flat stomach, promising in a rattling breath, "i'll get help. you'll get out of here-- both of you."

it's adam who reaches out five years later. a message left at lawrence's desk phone at work he lets play while he hangs his coat up. the shaky timbre jolts him to his core.

he doesn't make sense at first, calling him 'andy' and mentioning a 'gig', but it becomes clear the call was made in secret by the way his tone shifts to something trembling, desperate, and terrified. lawrence manages to piece together only a few things from the hasty message; adam is living with someone (a friend? a mate?) who he's certain will kill him one of these days, and he's pregnant again (the likely catalyst for the call in the first place)

as he scrawls the address to a cafe to meet at that adam manages to list off through his sniffling, lawrence wonders with no measure of dread if adam managed to terminate the first pregnancy like he had planned. whatever is going on that's enough to bring a spitfire to tears is cruel to inflict on a pup.

the next time lawrence sees adam again, he's just as scrawny and pale as he was in the bathroom. only now he also holds faded yellow along his jaw and dark circles that have bruised just as brightly. his gaze is downcast when he explains in hushed tones how he had to move back in with scott ("the boy who stabbed you with a nail on your birthday?" "oh-- uh, yeah, i didn't think you'd remember that.") because the money he had saved for the abortion was stolen by his shithead landlord as rent money, and with medical debt, trauma, and no job on his back, he ended up kicked out anyway with the "bonus" of being too far along to terminate.

scott wasn't his first choice, but he was the first one to say yes and adam wasn't in the position to be picky. maybe they could figure out co-parenting -- the pup was his, after all. but adam knew scott better than that; scott didn't let him in out of the goodness of his heart, he wanted a warm body to knot whenever he pleased. that's why adam was there now.

"i can't bring another pup into this, lawrence, i can't. i can't even go to the clinic behind his back 'cause he keeps all our money with him and--"

"is that....?" lawrence had followed adam's jittering line of sight to where it kept flicking outside to where a little girl sat in a jalopy pretending to drive with a dog plush in her arms. adam had her stay in the car as to not 'manipulate' lawrence into taking them in if his heart wasn't in it, parked strategically so she was in full view from the booth.

"y-yeah," adam says back, fighting off waves of nausea from nerves and morning sickness. "sorry, couldn't leave her home, scott gets pissed if she bothers him and i couldn't risk it."

a splinter of his broken heart catches lawrence in the throat. he hopes jigsaw catches wind of him one day soon. "could you introduce me?" he asks him, head dipped so he has to look up to adam through his lashes -- a willful assurance that if he refuses, lawrence will respect the decision. in a small (publicly acceptable) way, lawrence is submitting to him despite holding their fates in his hands.

trina, he comes to learn, already knows about him. kind of. while adam excuses himself to have a minor episode in the bathroom, she asks if he's the bathroom pirate. "my daddy's got a friend with a pirate leg he met in the scary bathroom. is that you?" lawrence immediately adores her.

they're moved into lawrence's place in two days

misc notes:

adam's bondmark detox from scott is so harsh that lawrence has to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't start miscarrying out of stress, and he still holds some scarring from scott's teeth

while using his 'claim' of an omega and production of a pup as status symbols to appear as a more attractive alpha, scott doesn't let trina call him any form of 'dad'. he opts for 'alpha', which chills adam to hear her refer to him as once they're out of there because it's like. giving him power even when he's not there.

trina learns a (child-friendlier) version of how adam and lawrence met after scott uses it to mock adam's vulnerability. adam leaves out the worst details.

"bothering scott" = when she sneaks out of her room past her bedtime to creep to the living room where scott is watching mtv and sit silently on the other end of the couch. she was completely silent until scott barked at adam "come get your fuckin' kid!" when she struggled to hold back crushed, apologetic whines ("you gotta leave him alone, baby," adam stressed as he rushed her down the hall, "you remember what happened last time? we gotta stay out of his way so it won't happen again, okay?")

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 22 : Long distance/say goodbye

Celyan belongs to @thal-ent

____

“... What the fuck.”

“Well, hello to you too, Cel.”

“It’s seven in the morning, Cyane. Couldn’t you call me, like, an hour later?”

Aaah, the half-asleep, full-asshole greeting. My favorite. Celyan really hates it when I call them early. Well, it's already evening for me, so, let them suck on it. And I don't mean my dick.

“Well someone needs to get your horrendous sleeping schedule back on track.”

“And it sure as hell ain’t going to be you,” they groan. “Is being on the other side of the globe fucking with your head? It’s empty enough as it is.”

Heh. They know they're the only one who can actually make it empty. I hear shuffling sounds on the other side of the call, they must be getting their glasses. I guess they can’t put the camera on, which sucks ass because I kinda miss their sleepy face.

... I’m never saying that out loud.

“Nah, Jakarta’s nice enough. Just… You know, super rainy. It's messing up my hair.”

“Yeah, saw that on TV.”

“... You watched ?”

A silence.

“No. Just happened to see it on screen at the bar yesterday.”

Yeah, right. A texan bar broadcasting an indonesian program about politics. Let's pretend it’s plausible.

“Uhuh. You liked it?”

“Didn’t understand shit, even if the questions were in english.”

“I'll explain it to you later then.”

“Were they difficult? The questions they asked you.”

“Well, kinda? They were a bit wary about having an american politologist talk about their system, which, is, you know, fair. But I handled it fine, I think?”

“Sure hope so. Even if it would be hilarious to watch you mess up in front of the entire indonesian nation.”

“Ha, ha, very funny. I’m telling you, people are good to me here.”

“You going to stay there for a few months more then?”

Urgh. I knew this was gonna come up. This is why I called in the first place.

“No, but… I got an offer to go to New-Zealand after this, and, uh, I couldn't really pass it up. So I… won’t be in the US for Christmas. Or New Year’s.”

There’s a brief silence on the other side of the phone. With Celyan, it feels like hours.

“Your dad isn't going to like that.”

… Yeah. My dad. Of course.

“He already knows. He’s a bit sad but he knows that’s a good opportunity for me.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

Their voice feels really dry for some reason. It’s always dry tho. More or less. Just more than less right now. No use worrying about it, right?

“But I'll be back shortly after. Like… Second week of january. And I'll come by your apartment so we can, you know, catch up.”

“More like you want me to get your balls back to their original color.”

“Ha! And what if I do?”

“I’ll make you beg for it, you know, the usual.”

“Pft, like I'm the one who's going to beg! Anyways, I'll keep in touch about the dates.”

“You have the keys. Why bother telling me when you get there?”

“Wow. And here I thought you’d have enough tact to come pick me up.”

“Strategic error on your part.”

“I admit.”

I look at the time. Almost 8pm already. Shit. I’m supposed to go meet some people for dinner. But I don't wanna leave the call. But I have to. But I don't wanna.

“... I… kinda have to go, Cel.”

“Did the hotel catch fire?”

“No but my stomach is screaming and I have plans. Well. If you're not working when I get back.”

“I’ll make it work. And I'll put the camera on, if you behave well enough.”

“Bastard.”

“You want me so bad.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I really gotta go now. See you later?”

“Yeah. See you later, sunshine.”

The call hangs up as my heart jumps. Nearly thirteen years and still that damned nickname has the same effect on me than when they used it the first time. I just hide it better.

I should probably get ready.

…

My room feels really empty all of a sudden.

Can’t wait to go back home.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Soul Bound

Chapter Fourteen- At least in this lifetime, we're sticking together

Trigger warning for descriptions of violence

Translation (Latin to English) Ignem mitte principium, mitte diabolum in finem! = Send fire to its beginning, send the devil to its end

Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Me and my husband

We're doing better

It's always been just him and me, together

So I bet all I have on that

Furrowed brow

And at least in this lifetime

We're sticking together

Me and my husband

Me and My Husband- Mitski

As nice as it was to pretend everything was okay in the safety of Sam’s arms, Aron had to acknowledge Malix was a threat again, even if she didn’t want to. Currently she and the incubi were sitting around the table, trying to form a plan to end this feud once and for all.

“What if we attack from the side?” Matthew suggested, pointing at the map James had made. With the help of magic, they were able to find the general location of where the devil gang had been camping. “We could catch them off guard that way. I’ll use my daggers to distract them while the rest of you sneak in!”

James hummed. “I’m not sure if it’s wise for any of us to separate. We need to stay together.”

Erik nodded. “Then someone should stay with Matthew. Once the battle starts, they can join in.”

“I can stay with him,” Damien added. “I can use shadow clones to trick them. It will give the three of you an advantage when you attack.”

Sam huffed and crossed his arms. “Like I’ll need an advantage. I could kick his ass with my eyes closed.”

James sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.”

“James is right,” Erik said. “There's too many of them. We need all of the advantages we can get.”

Aron listened as they continued to strategize, a thought coming to her mind. She made a face and looked up at them all. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, getting their attention.

James looked at her. “What is it, Miss?”

“Well, you guys keep talking about what we’re going to do when we get there,” she stated. “But no ones talking about how we’re going to get there?”

James tilted his head slightly. “Well, we will probably just walk through the woods. It’s the safest option to prevent drawing attention to ourselves.”

Aron gave him a look. “Walk? We’re gonna walk out of the doors that are booby trapped?” she asked incredulously. She’d reinforced the holy magic inside the mansion, but that didn’t prevent the traps from affecting them outside, not to mention that there was always a possibility the devils could figure out how to disband the spell.

A look of realization dawned on James’ face before he chuckled. “We hadn’t quite gotten around to that. I was going to propose we travel using the shadow plane.”

“You don’t think the traps will affect us there too?” Aron asked. She wasn’t trying to seem negative, but she couldn’t help but be skeptical.

Damien shook his head. “It shouldn’t. I checked last night and couldn’t sense any hell borne magic there.”

Aron looked at them with a blank expression for a moment before raising her brows and leaning back in her chair. “Right. My fault. Continue,” she said, earning a chuckle from Damien and a light nudge from Sam.

She looked up at him as he placed a hand on her head. “We got this,” he told her. “We’re gonna end this once and for all. I’m never gonna let him hurt you again.” His words were low at the end, almost a growl.

She simply nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I know.”

He grinned and ruffled her hair. “You better, Doofus.”

They continued to plan for a bit before James stood up. “Alright everyone. Get some rest. We will leave first thing in the morning.”

Before anyone could answer, suddenly the sound of creaks and doorknobs could be heard, followed by multiple deafening cracks in the air. Aron yelped and covered her ears, feeling a sudden warmth engulf the room along with the overwhelming amounts of hell born magic. It was impossible to tell if the holy magic was still in place.

Before she could react, Sam grabbed Aron and pulled her down onto the ground with him. He wrapped himself around her protectively, not letting her go. 

She could hear the shouts of the other incubi, who’d all ducked down as well. It all happened so fast, and it had only been about thirty seconds before everything went quiet. The only noise she could hear was Sam’s breathing.

“Is everyone alright?” she heard James ask, followed by murmurs from each boy, letting him know they were alright.

As they slowly stood up, Aron felt her nerves twist in her stomach. All of the doors were open, and standing in the front door was a grinning Malix with his gang of devils behind him. “Miss me?”

Before she could blink, she saw the incubi all rush at him, with the exception of Damien. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back to the wall. 

The fight was like nothing Aron had ever seen before. Despite not being prepared, each incubus seemed to be holding their own against the band. It was fast paced; high levels of magic being used. It was like an explosion of energy everywhere, fireworks almost. They were outnumbered though, each incubus fending off multiple opponents.

James fought smoothly, a golden gun forming in his hands. Damien reached up and covered Arons ears as he began to shoot at the devils. She mentally thanked him.

Erik fought almost gracefully, like it was a dance. To her surprise, behind him were tendrils, whipping and grabbing at the devils masterfully.

Matthew was playful, chuckling at his opponents misses as he threw dagger after dagger. He was steady on his feet and seemed to be extremely practiced with knives. Until he tripped, falling with a grunt. Aron gasped as a devil began to stalk over to him, only to be stopped by a clone of Damien.

The real Damien let her go and gave her a firm look. “Please stay here. Don’t try to step in.”

She could only nod before he rushed over to Matthew, helping him up and beginning to fight. Once she knew Matthew was alright, she focused on Sam.

His fighting style was harsh, relentless. He didn’t have a weapon or tendrils, but his blows were powerful and strong. He was fast on his feet as well, dodging and blocking attacks masterfully.

She gasped as she saw a woman sneaking up behind him, and he was too preoccupied fighting Malix and some others to notice. The amount of devils was multiplying, each boy fighting at least four devils each. 

She felt her heart stop for a moment when the woman pulled out a gun, her ears ringing.

Immediately Aron ran over, grabbing one of the chairs from the dining room. She lifted it and slammed it over her head, making the woman hiss and turn around, dropping the gun she was holding up. “Why, you little-”

“ARON!” she heard Sam shout as the devil shoved her against the wall. She felt fists slam into her stomach. After about two punches, Sam had yanked the woman away. Aron closed her eyes and suddenly her form disappeared, like she’d morphed together with the shadows.

Aron opened her eyes, the air cold and the room covered in a dark hue now. She coughed violently, her stomach hurting but she didn’t focus on it too hard. She watched as the devil and Sam fought, her going down quite quickly. Damien glanced over to the area she was in before going back to the fight, seemingly satisfied that she was in the shadow realm and away from the fight for at least a bit.

The number of devils was only growing by the moment, and the incubi were starting to struggle. James had a gash in his side, appearing like a stab wound. Damien seemed to be favoring his left leg, like putting weight on the other was painful for him. Aron hid in the shadow realm, watching almost hopelessly as her energy drained.

Was this how she’d die? Was this how she’d lose Sam? Was this the end?

An idea popped into her mind. The spell they’d prepared previously was thought to not work because of the interruption of the devils appearing last time. But if Aron recalled correctly, they had no proof of this. It was merely a safe assumption.

What if…

Aron suddenly stood up straight, letting herself leave the shadows and reappear into the room. She rushed up the stairs quickly, heading straight for the study.

The spell was designed to use the devils’ energy against them. It would pull out their magic and force it against them, then attack them from the inside out. 

The problem was that even if the first part of the spell had worked, the intensity could be too much for Aron. If it hadn’t worked, then surely she’d experience lasting effects. She could lose all of her magic, be drained to a dangerous extent, or even die. She wouldn’t know until she tried, and she saw no other way to save them all.

Truly the only fool proof way to go through with this plan was to have one of the incubi perform it, but they were obviously preoccupied.

Aron began frantically searching around the study for the journal that had the spell written down in it. She could hear the fighting downstairs, shouts and crashing noises. She looked everywhere, starting to get irritated that she couldn’t find it.

“What the fuck! Where is it!” Aron shouted to herself, her hands trembling violently. Just as she was about to give up, tears building in her eyes, she saw the corner of a book sticking out from under the chair. 

She quickly picked it up and opened it, eyes scanning over each page until she found it. She rushed out, seeing the incubi now in their demon forms. Her eyes immediately went to Sam, watching as he was struggling to fight. He was bloody and had some bruises, breathing quickly and pure rage on his face.

Damien finally looked at her with a panicked look, but she shouted before he got the chance to stop her.

“Ignem mitte principium, mitte diabolum in finem!”

The last thing Aron remembered was the room engulfing in white and a pulling sensation throughout her body.

[fandom-fae]

i just realized something-

my current most favorite characters are pan from ouat and misa amane and like. they fit so well actually bc misa is actually very similarly loyal to light as felix is to pan, but the difference between pan and light is that pan actually appreciated and valued felix’s loyalty and like yeah felix’s loyalty to pan was his downfall directly, and misa’s loyalty to light was only indirectly her downfall but still.

like i’ve often thought that misa and pan would get along well but this realization opened a whole new can of worms tbh

and another thing- we don’t canonically know the reason why felix is so loyal to pan, but i’ve often seen the reason being headcanoned as pan having “saved” felix from a worse fate/life he had before neverland and this is such a good parallel as well to misa and light bc misa also views light as her savior because he killed her family’s killer

and then there’s the aspect of self-sacrifice from both misa and felix. misa’s is definitely giving up part of her lifespan in making the eye deal for light and felix’s is getting captured and then quite literally losing his heart to pan.

like felix and misa have so many similarities. it makes so so so much sense that i always ahd that feeling that she’d get along well with pan bc she is so similar to the literal person pan loves most in the world.

however, now that i’m thinking about it- misa could *not* fill felix’s role in pan’s story. she is very loyal and could be equally devoted to pan, and she would want to be useful- but where felix does exactly as told and never disagrees and doesn’t seem to expect anything in return, misa very much does demand things in return- for her it’s always been pretty transactional with light, like she will be loyal to him and let him use her as a pawn, but only if he pretends to be the boyfriend she wants. and then even outside of that, misa is a much more active person- even if she was shelved in some parts of the story, there were quite a few times when she took initiative and acted on her own to influence the plot. felix’s actions are not that independent; there are a few things that could be argued to be his choices, but i doubt that they weren’t influenced by pan at all. everything felix does always directly ties in to pan’s plans, he doesn’t disrupt them like misa disrupts light’s plans when she feels like it.

and then on top of that, felix and light would not mesh well at all. light is too cold for felix to project such savior thoughts onto him and light probably would not want another person to be so heavily devoted to him (he already didn’t want misa). however, light might’ve liked felix more than misa- felix didn’t ask for anything in return for his loyalty and he didn’t go out and do things he wasn’t “supposed to” ever. in that regard, felix reminds me more of mikami- but mikami wasn’t really loyal to light, he was loyal to kira (who just so happened to be light. if you know what i mean-) and also mikami still didn’t do everything as light wanted. felix never so much as even questioned pan, never had a shred of doubt. mikami did doubt kira and that’s (imo) a big part of why they failed (ofc i’m not trying to discredit near here, if it hadn’t been for him and mello, light couldn’t have been stopped)

anyway. another difference between light and pan: light was after his idealistic goals, pan was after immortality and power; yet it was light who had a god complex, not pan, even though pan’s goals are frankly much more like trying to become a god- especially since gods in ouat are exactly that: basically immortal and very powerful.

and then light was always so cynical and critical of everything and everyone around him (with very few exceptions like sayu), meanwhile pan was mostly just having fun and messing with people both just bc he can and to literally move his own plan forward.

they both strategized a lot and imo seeing a mind game between light and pan would’ve been incredibly interesting- even if light would’ve lost very quickly for many reasons (like obviously, pan has an advantage because he has magical powers and pan is very good at taunting people and pushing their buttons and light tends to make more mistakes when he's angry or getting cocky when someone challenges him).

also another aspect actually- light is at the start of death note just a high schooler, he's 17 and yet he always feels like he's above everyone around him and like he's smarter and more wise and stuff- meanwhile pan is hundreds of years old and used to be very well into adulthood before he came to neverland and became pan and embraced youth- he actually was older and did actually have more experience than most of the people he was up against- technically all of them since he’s obviously also older than rumple, but rumple and neal and hook were at least in a similar age range, but pan never actually showed any feelings of superiority because of that. he did get cocky and overconfident sometimes, just like light, but it was never about his age. isn’t that such an interesting parallel? the teen who feels more wise than everyone around him and the centuries old trickster who doesn’t even really acknowledge that his experience could be an advantage

and one last thing. their downfalls: light’s makes sense and it was because he was outsmarted in combination with one of his pawns making a mistake - pan’s was out of character because he was previously shown as much more capable than he suddenly acted whenever the heroes got the upper hand. (i’ll write a post on that soon, maybe on my sideblog but i’ll link it here when/if i do)

anyway i don’t know why i’m comparing characters from completely different franchises and genres with each other but yeah i’m done for now

[fluffydavey]

you know i have to do it

fixing their tie for little romantic gestures

little romantic gestures || prompts

He's talking to Crutchie about his return to school in the penthouse, lazily looking up at the view above him as they begin guessing what Jack's new job will actually be like now that he's finally started, when Jack calls to his attention and he thinks he might die.

"I look stupid," he says, folding his arms and creasing the shirt, but also stretching the fabric against all the right places. Yeah, Davey's not going to survive today - cause of death, Jack dressed in a fine black suit, just like his new workmates.

"You do not," he says as he sits up properly, all too aware that he's been caught staring, by both Jack and Crutchie. It isn't his fault that the boy he's been going steady with looks so fucking good. "It's a good look."

"Let me leave the room before you tear that suit off of him," Crutchie says, and Davey can't tell if it's supposed to be a joke or a threat. Davey reluctantly takes his eyes off of Jack to roll his eyes in the other boy's direction.

Crutchie does decide to leave, which Davey isn't sure if it's a good idea or not. He's slowly losing some of his self-restraint, but he keeps reminding himself of how important this new job is to Jack. His stupid teenage hormones can wait a few hours.

"Your tie's all off though."

"What?" Jack asks, looking down as he began adjusting the length of the two ends. "I always hated these stupid things."

“Jack,” Davey says, getting up off the bed to make his way over to Jack. "You should have told me you can't tie them. Pop taught me how to tie them for my Bar Mitzvah."

He receives a grateful look, as he crosses the room to get to Jack, standing inches away, holding the fabric close and concentrating. He gently slides the knot into place at the base of Jack's neck and lets his hands linger just enough before he places three fingers against the underside of Jack's jaw, feeling Jack swallow hard.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he says, blurting out by accident. It isn't the smoothest move, and Davey's kind of kicking himself, until Jack pulls him in by the waist, pressing his lips onto Davey's, and he can feel his insides twisting and turning. He's still not over the sensation of getting to kiss Jack whenever he wants (which is always) and he doesn't think he ever will. It feels like pure bliss, every part of his body that Jack’s hands come into contact with feels like it’s on fire.

"Will I get a good luck kiss before I go to work tomorrow?" Jack asks, smiling, as he wraps his arms around Davey's neck.

He pretends to mull it over, although he's well aware that Jack's smart enough to already catch onto what that suit is doing to Davey. He's already trying to strategically plan how to rip that suit off of Jack without actually damaging it. "I suppose I can come by before school tomorrow since someone's got to do your tie," he says, as Jack grins happily.

"Help me take this off?" Jack asks, motioning to his suit, and Davey is more than happy to comply.

[finniestoncrane]

Hi hi Finnie!! Congrats on reaching 1k! I've been going back n forth if i should request this because,,, nervessss, but can I pleasse request no.9 ever fallen in love with someone?

I'm 5'3, have blonde buzzed hair and a curvy, chubby body. I'm afab genderfluid & bi so i joke my gender and sexuality is just everything/everything XD

I LOOOVE making really bad jokes, like dad jokes, puns, dirty jokes, and some of my favourite jokes dont have spoken punchlines so i stare at people with a goofy face until they get it :D I love listening to other people rant about their passions and learning new things, even if i dont fully get it, and enjoy being able to do the same back.

I'm very creative so most of my hobbies are with my hands, from drawing, to sewing, resin and woodwork, i like to try a bit of everything. I really enjoy seeing a finished product that i made on my own! I also like reading and playing dnd so I'm really good at crafting strategies or creative ways around problems in the game (and describing how i get to defeat my enemies, because im squeamish with real blood, but i love some good ol fictional gore.)

I'm very outgoing and bubbly, and i dislike being formal with people. I'd much rather be my casual and crude self, and skip any awkwardness. I am naturally very loud so i can have some issues around quieter people but i try my best to adjust so I'm not cutting them off. I also have a very dirty mind and am a very physically affectionate person, I'm always flirting with, hugging someone, linking arms, or holding hands, whether were platonic or romantic!

Asfghgjfla thank you for letting me ramble and for doing all of these for us!!

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: ok i am bestowing upon you what i consider to be the greatest gift because truly you just suit him so well 💚 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

ok this is my own headcanon but it's practically legit canon in my mind by this point, but thick bodies are his favourite type of body so checkmark there

also, exceptional gender and sexuality choice. i feel like yeah he's a cis bisexual boy, but also i don't think he cares enough to put any sort of label on it, and he has more important things to be concerned about, so he'll identify as whatever the fuck makes you leave him alone and stop questioning him quickest

look i'm not pulling out my files on his dialogue in the games, but trust me when i say that this is the dorkiest dweeb in the universe and his ability to make the dumbest jokes and be so satisfied with himself knows no bounds

good about the listening thing, because you won't be allowed to get a word in edgeways. and besides, he's the best, so he deserves everyone's attention at all times while he talks about whatever the hell he pleases (but he might also let you tell him about something you love if he's too tired to talk)

yeah, stinky boy is down there in his little workshop using his little raccoon paws to get up to all sorts of nonsense so he'd be super pleased to have someone with some capabilities in that kind of area to help him with some projects

and being able to be strategic and creative with problem solving? sounds like someone just got promoted to riddler apprentice and chief "evil plan" coordinator

outgoing and bubbly are probably going to grate on him but god knows he needs someone to be the face of his operation, and it'd be good for him to have a brightness in his life

also it's fine to be loud because you need to be able to cut through either the sound of his welding or yelling or ranting

and truly very much so he needs physical attention and affection, which i'm sure he'd warm to eventually if you just keep at it. relentlessly, even if he's pretending to hate it and it's making him grumpy