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randomfoggytiger · 4 months

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do you happen to have any fic recs where Scully is the one to initiate msr’s first kiss? I see a lot of the opposite but scully should get to do it

Oh, yes, a ton.

Here are a few I haven't reread in a while. *ahem*

Loose chronological order below~

Little_Pumpkin_Bagel's Vive Ut Vivas

I swallow hard. Assuming by the way she’s looking at me, I’m mostly sure that whatever she’s up to will throw caution out of limits for the sake of both of us. – “And what would that be, Scully?”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she holds my collar and pulls me down....

Post One Breath Mulder can't quite conceal his true feelings, which leaves Scully an opening.

trustmescully's Intoxicating Darkness

"I love you too, Scully," he smiles and his eyes shine with his mouth.

S2 Mulder, depressed and suicidal, is stopped from further considerations when Scully chases after him in the freezing rain.

@danadeservesadrink/Samwritess's

Collapse (Tumblr)

But he needed her to know like she needed him to know, and there was no pretending any more.

“I know” she whispered, so quiet it was almost in her head. He nodded silently and pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes closing, hands falling intertwined again between them.

Post Pusher Scully supports Mulder until his defeat breaks her walls.

Justin Glasser's (xphilefic) Lonely Nightmare

She brushed her knuckles over his cheek. "When are you going to start listening to me?"

Mulder felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "Scully," he said. His voice sounded like it was rubbed over sandpaper. Screaming, he thought. That's from when I was screaming.

"What, Mulder?" She was rubbing his shoulders now, trying to work the blood back into them. He was alive, so she was playing Doctor Scully, all business, rubbing their relationship back to normal as quickly as possible. Mulder wasn't sure he wanted it back to normal so quickly. Mulder wasn't sure he could handle normal right away.

"If you kiss me again, I promise not to shout."

Post Never Again Mulder and Scully slowly bridge the distance between them during an intense case of missing teens and bonfires.

@mollybecameanengineer/Sareki's My Beloved (Tumblr)

He started to rise, to apologize and leave the room, but she stopped him. “What things?” she whispered.

Her face was open, her eyes bright. She knew what he was going to say, and it didn’t look like she was afraid of it.

Post Kaddish Mulder can't sleep, slipping into Scully's motel room for a late-night conversation.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's

Max 2.0

Once her forehead touched his, she whispered, “you are not Max. You have so many people here who love you and need you and you have so much to offer them back and you do. That’s the difference between you and Max. He searched for himself. You search for me, Mulder. You search,” kissing his forehead, then quickly his mouth, “for me.”

Post Max Mulder drives Scully out of the city where they stargaze while she tries to reassure and motivate him to keep fighting.

The Warmest Thing I Own

He saw her suddenly blink, head shake, both signs she was just waking up, “what? Mulder?”

Knowing she didn’t recall anything because there was no embarrassment turning her red, no heat in her cheeks, eyes innocently confused, “nothing...."

Cancer arc Mulder and Scully skip work, spending the day together as he prepares the best gourmet steak and mushrooms he can for her. (The sequels Fancy Paper Napkins, End of the Road, and Post Moments are excellent reads, too.)

Miles to Go

"Mulder ..."

"Yeah?"

"Smile."

The camera flashed in his face, "I think this one should be labeled 'Before'."

Mulder gulped down the last of his hot dog, "before what?"

"Before I kissed you."

Post FTF Mulder and Scully take the remains of their burnt office home, falling asleep and waking to a storm outside. Scully bucks the expected in a few unexpected ways.

206 Bones

Chocking up her growing feeling of dread to exhaustion, anger and lack of any type of proper vitamin or mineral, she helped her partner search, track and eventually corner Parsons in an abandoned building fifteen minutes away, half demolished and dangerous to any and all who set foot inside.

Only seconds before getting the final word to take the building, Scully’s fear got the better of her and she turned Mulder to face her, pulling him down to her....

Scully gives Mulder a good luck kiss before they attempt to flush their suspect from a rotten building... and ends up the one worse for wear.

Anne Haynes's (xf-redux.com)

Sonnet

The kiss was sweet. Simple. Breathtaking.

Redux II Mulder is afraid Scully is dying, at last, only for his world to be turned right-side up in a multitude of ways.

Package Deal (txt)

But she ran her thumb beneath his chin, tipping his head up, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes spoke a thousand sweet promises and then there was no more hesitation, no lingering gaze, no more silent questions passed back and forth between them.

Post FTF Scully is overjoyed: she and Mulder are still partnered, their story was believed, and the files are getting expanded. So overjoyed, in fact, she moves their relationship to the next level.

nabokoves's Unwritten Hymns

She mumbled his name into his shoulder, foggy with confusion. She wanted to know if he was okay. He pulled back to look at her, struggling to find something to say. He brimmed with words so corny they would make even the poets puke.

Post Redux II Mulder may hate God-- chalking up Scully's remission to science instead of his angry prayers-- but but he in no way hates God's believer, Scully.

@nowwhateinstein's (Ao3) Fic: Seeking Warmth/Seeking Warmth

I look at him. He’s regarding me with a gaze that is both familiar and thrilling. Tenderness and desire are present in his eyes. It’s the same look, I realize, he had moments before he went to kiss me in the hallway outside his apartment - a moment that seems like a lifetime ago. Then, I found myself hesitating, afraid to reciprocate his acknowledgement of a truth we’d both known. Now, however, in light of everything that’s happened in the past week, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to lean over and kiss him.

Post FTF Scully picks up where she and Mulder left off, despite her slowly recovering body and patched-up snowsuit.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls's ice crystals (Ao3)

He pulls her hand up and kisses the back of it in relief. Her forehead furrows and she pulls her hand out of his. Something inside him thunks.

But the next thing he knows, she is leaning across the space between them and cupping her face in his.

Post Tithonus Mulder and Scully flesh out their frustrations and feelings as they (almost) freeze to death.

@purrykat/mylifeinshadow's

How about M&S in Boston

She joins you next to the desk, a murmured noise of acknowledgment at the ‘CANCELLED’ notice that appears next to your flight number. You brace yourself for thinly veiled frustration, but when you risk a glance, there’s a funny little twinkle in her eye instead. You’re instantly taken back to the week prior—

Post IVF Mulder mulls over the brief kiss Scully gave him after the procedure failed.

Sending you number 20 for the kiss prompts.

I think it’s safe to say that it’s not Skinner that I’m interested in.”

And there it is. You’ve been steadily climbing toward this moment for the better part of the month, neither willing to take that final leap. It’s as if the absence of height difference gives her a burst of confidence, even as it turns you into a fumbling idiot.

Mulder, very late for a meeting with Skinner, is intercepted on the stairway by Scully.

effywho's Astra Inclinant

"I say...I say we stop talking." Scully replies.

It's his turn to look down, crumbling. "Sure, I understand."

He feels her breath on his hair as she leans closer. "I'm not sure you do."

Post IVF Mulder is shocked by not only their success but also Scully's follow up after his declaration.

EvanBlack's WHITEOUT

'You have a beautiful face Mulder.'

...There was an awkward silence, then he shifted and propped his cheek on his hand.

'That's the Evening Blush talking Scully.' He smiled with his lips, but she could see his eyes were serious - and nervous.

His nerves gave her sudden courage.

A plane crashes Mulder and Scully in the snowy mountains; and their petty squabbles become small in comparison to starvation, necessary cannibalism, and the increasing odds of death.

Xequinn's (Ao3) Playing Hookie

“Yeah let's do this” “On a count of three” she says” “One,” he responds On “Two” they adjust suddenly sweaty hands “Three!” Scully leaps off, pulling Mulder behind her

Scully has fun dragging Mulder around on her slightly manic beachside adventures.

The Trouble with Expectations - Chapter 1 (Tumblr)

“Scully of course I showed. Why did you think I hadn’t?” She didn’t answer. Just let more tears fall. He grabbed for her hand again, and she let him. “Scully I’ll always come get you”

She didn’t answer. Just lunged forward and grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could.

Scully, assuming Mulder forgot to pick her up from the airport, is heartbroken... until Mulder wanders over from the bathroom.

@this-is-surely-tru/yours_truly's If the Fates Allow

“Tactile evidence only increases the anticipation, Mulder. It doesn’t diminish it.”

The slightly concussed look on her partner’s face was undeniably adorable, and he shook his head slightly as if to clear it while they both relaxed again into the carriage seat. “Far be it from me to argue with that, Scully.”

Mulder, stuck in New York for Christmas, surprises his partner with a rented carriage ride; and she, in turn, surprises him as well.

@alabama-metal-man's Unnamed

She pulls back, runs her hand along his cheek, and turns away to take a long drag of her coffee. She closes her eyes, sighing contentedly.

“What was that for?” She can hear the hint of teasing, the lingering smile.

Scully is having a rotten morning until Mulder remembers her coffee order.

@admiralty-xfd/admiralty's Up in your arms - Chapter 1

He stared at her with a look she couldn’t figure out, but it wasn’t a look that said don’t. It was the furthest thing from that look she could discern. So she leaned into him, all the way in, and she felt him inhale ever so slightly as she took the biggest risk of her life.

Post Closure Mulder contemplates his new life. Scully answers at least one question for him.

And just for fun, I grabbed a few of my baronessblixen rereads:

@baronessblixen‘s (Ao3)

Temporary Insanity (Ao3)

How many times has she cheated death this year? Two times? Three? She’s come so close that she’s stopped counting. Every time, she just picked herself up, bought a new blouse if it was torn or bloody, threw away shoes that weren’t as lucky as she was, and calmed herself down when a nightmare tried to take her under. She’s done. She feels it in her fingertips. She feels it like a current running through her body. She needs something. Something to make her feel alive.

Paper Clip Scully is spurned by her anger into more-than-professional overtures.

The Day After (Ao3)

“Kiss and make up?” Mulder says with a grin, biting his bottom lip. He at least has to try. Scully stares at him for a moment, the way she sometimes does before she tells him how crazy he is. He knows that look. But this time it’s different.

Wetwired Mulder and Scully's discussion leads to decisive action on her part.

Never Cold With You By My Side

Feeling bold, she lets her hand wander behind his neck to play with the hair there. If he doesn’t want this – her – he can stop her before this even starts. But he doesn’t. So she pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his.

One Son Mulder and Scully spend the night locked up in Fort Marlene while she is hurt, jealous, and angry.

Dreams Are Made of This

Scully gets on her tiptoes and kisses Mulder. On the lips, just like that. Just like she’s been thinking about. It’s a quick kiss, but thorough. Like you’d kiss your husband. The person you love. All those thoughts fly through her head as she steps out the door. She stops there, realizing what she just did.

Scully, in the midst of a hopeful IVF daydream, accidentally kisses Mulder.

Five Minutes - Chapter 2 (Tumblr)

He returns with them, one in each hand, and when Scully reaches out to take hers, he shakes his head. Seeing him like this, her knight in crinkled Armani, his hands full, she can’t wait another second. She gets on tiptoes, careful not to topple over, and presses her lips to his. He tastes like coffee and the chocolate chip cookie they shared on the plane. They’ve waited long enough for this.

“We have?” Mulder, his eyes glazed over, grinning stupidly, sounds amused.

Will never not include this post IVF success story.

Candlelight Moments With You

You look like you're gonna faint. Eat something." She holds a chip up to his mouth and he accepts it, his lips closing over her finger. He can't tell what flavor the chips are, but he knows he wants more.

"More?" he asks in a whisper. She smiles at him and nods. But he doesn't get another chip. Instead, he gets a kiss.

Mulder tries to give Scully a good enough Christmas while both are practically stranded in a motel.

#asks #anon #Scully initiates the first move #Collector's Edition #Scully Makin' Moves #Part I #anyone interested in a part ii?#txf #fic

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system-to-the-madness · 9 months

Text

A Promise Kept - Itadori Yūji x Reader

Pairing: Itadori Yūji x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst (a tiny speck of fluff in the end) Word Count: 3 951 Warnings: suicidal Yūji, self-harm (Yūji), panic attack(?), throwing up(both Yūji and Reader), death, canon typical violence, description of sever wounds and pain, lots of crying, SPOILERs for up to chapter 137 / episode 47 Summary: Following the Shibuya incident, you try to talk to Yūji, who has locked himself away A/N: Inspired by an ask @delzinrowe sent to @just-jordie-things and I got the permission to write it. This is probably not what you guys had in mind, but I had this idea as soon as I read this ask and stuck with it. Also: I usually don’t write angst unless it ends in a lot of fluff, so this is a first for me.

Masterlist

“He’s hidden himself away.” Panda’s voice was heavy with concern. Not unjustified concern, considering ever cheerful Yūji had distanced himself from everyone following the events of the Halloween night.

It was the morning of the first of November. Dust still hung in the air like fog, the first sunbeams of a warm autumn morning shining their light on the destroyed Shibuya. You had not slept at all in the past 24 hours, nor eaten anything in the past 12. Instead, you had thrown up even the little stomach contents you had had left. You had tried drinking something, but none of it was any good, you just couldn’t keep anything down. Not the water the half-curse Chōsō had offered you, not the green tea Yaga had handed you, not the broth Ieiri-sensei had convinced you to drink. You had thrown everything back up.

The pictures of the night kept haunting you, of the curses you had exorcised, of the transfigured humans you had been forced to kill, of Gojō-sensei’s eyes looking back at you from that prison realm in Kenjaku’s hands, of Megumi’s lifeless body leaning against a wall, of Nanami-san’s body being torn apart, of Nobara clutching her face before dying. Now of the four first-years, only Yūji and you were left standing. But you were doubtlessly in way better shape than he was. Sure, you were so exhausted that your hands were shaking and your legs quivering, you had cuts across your arms and face, and bruises all over your body, but Yūji was of way worse than that. He had a huge cut right over his nose, was missing a part of his cheek so his teeth were showing. According to Chōsō, Ieiri-sensei had already healed him, but the scars were red and angry, and you knew it still had to hurt. Not to mention what he had gone through, watching his friends die, just like you had. But you were not possessed by an ancient, evil sorcerer who had used your body to wreak havoc to the city, burn it to ashes. And you knew he blamed himself for all of it.

Now, as you stood where once the famous Shibuya Scramble Crossing had been, legs weak from exhaustion and morning sunlight reflecting in the broken glass of the skyscrapers around you, you wondered how you were even still alive. Sweat had dried on your skin, blood crusting your clothes, smears of dust painted your face. The shock of the news you had received about the outcome of the night had not quite settled in, instead it was a slowly creeping terror, that you knew would close its fingers around your heart once you stopped to rest. So it was better not to rest, not yet, not while Yūji was still in distress.

“Where is he,” you asked, turning to Panda, who was climbing over the debris. Somewhere beneath all that rubble the famous statue of that dog, Hachikō, was buried. Along with humans, all of them probably long dead.

“He hid in one of the bathrooms,” another voice answered.

Shielding your eyes from the sunlight, you were met with the sight of Chōsō. Dark circles were painted under his brown eyes, the black tattoo over the bridge of his nose seeming to split his face in two.

“Which one?”

You ignored how strange it was asking the half-curse – whose brothers you had killed – for directions to help your friend… who he also considered his brother. But Yūji was your friend and if Panda’s words were to be believed – why shouldn’t they? – then Yūji needed you. He was your friend. Right? Nothing more than that. And nothing less.

Chōsō looked around for a moment, trying to orientate himself in the rubble, then pointed to the stairwell closest to Shibuya 109.

“Down the stairs, the first bathroom.”

Instead of acknowledging either Chōsō or Panda any further, you began making your way to the entrance of the subway. In the backpack on your bag, bottles of water and bags with food shifted against one another, as you climbed over a piece of a building.

The stairs were almost entirely destroyed, but you made your way down anyway, trying to sort your thoughts out. This was not the time to contemplate your feelings for Yūji, you told yourself. What mattered now was to help him, not because you liked him, but because he needed help. He needed to drink something, something with minerals to avoid cramps later, so Ieiri-sensei had packed sports-drinks in the backpack you were carrying. He needed nutrients and vitamins, also packed in your bag. He needed words of assurance, so you had already thought about what you needed to tell him. That it wasn’t his fault. That without him, many more would have died. That you were glad he was still there. He probably needed a hug or two, and you were prepared to hold him for as long as he needed you to make him realize that you would always be by his side. Because you were his friend. Because you would always stick together.

Now was not the time to think about how you had always felt connected to him, from the first moment on. It was not the time to think about how tight he always hugged you, how close he sat to you during movie nights, how he pretended to serenade you during karaoke or make your favourite ramen for you when you felt down. Nor was it the time to think about how he always made you explain the homework to him, as if he had to force you to do it when really you were thankful for each moment you got to spend with him, especially when it allowed you to gaze at him for minutes on end without him noticing. And whenever he noticed, he would grin at you, as if he were proud of something, and your face would grow warm. One time he had even told you he liked it when you looked at him like this, and you had been unable to meet his eyes for the rest of the day.

And then there were those little touches, the hand on the small of your back whenever he guided you to walk on the inside of the pavement so he was walking at the side of the street. The touches that lingered a little longer than with anyone else. But now was not the time to think about any of that.

The lights in the subway station were flickering, making it hard to see through the dust in the air. On a wall the lit-up advertisement for some sports anime sent flashes of white light into the dark. What you’d give to be the stupid love interest in one of these harmless anime now.

And there was the bathroom.

Stepping through the dark, careful not to fall over any of the debris, you slowly approached the door, your dominant hand at the handle of the cursed katana you had spent the past six months learning how to wield. Listening for any suspicious sounds, you stopped for a moment, before you pushed against the closed door to the men’s bathroom.

It didn’t budge.

Furrowing your brows, your tried again, but the metal of the door refused to swing open.

“Yūji-kun,” you called into the silence.

Something moved behind the door.

“Yūji-kun, it’s me,” you called again, knocking against the door. “Are you in there?”

“Go away!”

Yūji’s voice sounded chocked up and raw when he answered from behind the door, making you exhale in relief. You had found him. And he was conscious.

“Yūji, you need to eat and drink something,” you told him, knocking again.

“Leave me alone, go away!”

“You know I can’t do that,” you refused, trying to suppress the shaking in your voice. He sounded so hurt and lost. All you wanted to do was wrap him in an embrace and protect him from the memories of the night’s events.

“I don’t wanna see anyone right now! Go away.”

“You don’t have to see me, we can keep the door closed if you like. Just-” you sighed, crouching down in front of the door. “Just talk to me. I want to help.”

“You can’t help! You can’t- unless you kill me, you can’t help!”

It felt like your heart stopped beating in your chest, and tears shot into your eyes. You knew Yūji would feel terrible, but bad enough to want to die? You had not expected that.

“Yūji-“

“They’re dead because of me! Because of me Nanamin and Kugisaki-” Yūji’s voice broke off in a sob. “They died because of me! Shibuya is burnt to the ground because of me! So many people died because of me! And Fushiguro- Ijichi-san, Maki-san, Inumaki-san- they all-”

This voice broke off again, and you heard choking from the other side, as if he was throwing up. Or at least trying to throw up. After tonight you were familiar enough with the sound of trying to throw up with an empty stomach.

“Yūji, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have prevented-”

“Of course, it’s my fault. It’s all my fault, all of it is!”

“No, it’s not! If it had been your fault-”

“Stop saying it isn’t! Because it is! All of it is! Those were my hands who killed all these people! My hands who destroyed Shibuya! All of this only started because I’m a vessel for Sukuna! If I weren’t, they wouldn’t have tried getting to me, and all these people were still alive! It’s all burned into my memory! Every time I close my eyes I see them die, over and over and over again-”

He chocked and gagged again, making your own stomach clench, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wanted to help him so badly, hold him, comfort him. But the door kept you at a distance.

“If I weren’t possessed by Sukuna, they’d still be alive! Gojō-sensei should’ve just killed me! He should’ve just executed me!” From behind the door, you heard a bang, as if he had punched the wall… no, he had hit his head against it.

“Yūji!” You banged against the door, before placing your flat hand against it. Your fingers curled against the smooth, cool metal, your nails scraping against it in a desperate attempt to get to him. Of course, you could have just kicked down the door, but a part of you knew Yūji wouldn’t forgive you if you were to intrude on this space, he had created for himself, away from everyone. “Yūji, stop it! Stop!”

But another dull bang followed your plea, accompanied by his sobs and more retching.

“He should’ve executed me the moment the order came in! I should be dead!” Yūji’s voice was soar from screaming and crying and throwing up. “I should be dead! Then none of this would have happened! I should be dead! They should’ve just killed me! The world would be better off if I were dead! I should be dead! I should just die! I should-”

“Stop it! Stop it, Yūji! Stop it!” Tears were running down your cheeks as you banged against the locked door again, your voice shrill in your own ears. “Stop saying that! Stop saying you should be dead! Stop it, please stop!” You chocked on your own sobs, weakly trying to bang your firsts against the door. “I need you, you hear? I can’t lose you, too!”

For a moment there was silence on the other side of the door, no more screaming, no more head-against-the-wall-banging, no more retching. Only some heavy breathing.

“You’re only in danger around me,” Yūji eventually answered, his voice quiet. “Sukuna could take over any moment and he’d kill you without hesitation. The only way to ensure everyone’s safety would be to kill-“

“Nobody’s killing you! And those who try will have to go through me first! And the same goes for you! If you try to hurt yourself, Itadori Yūji, I swear by my life I will do everything in my power to stop you!”

Again silence spread between you. Long and heavy silence, interrupted only by your sobs and occasional gagging from Yūji’s side. It spread for so long, that you were almost tempted to ask if he was still conscious, when he spoke up again.

“I want to go home.” It was only a whimper, small and pained in the vast destruction of the night, and it made you want to tear down that stupid bathroom door and pull Yūji into the tightest hug you had ever given anyone. “I want to go home. Not to Jujutsu High. I want to go back to my grandpa’s place. And I want to eat his Naporitan Pasta. And sleep in my old bed. And just forget everything. I just want to feel safe. Just once more. I can’t take this anymore. I just-“

“Yūji, I-“

What were you supposed to say? His grandfather had died over six months ago. The apartment that had belonged to him was empty. Even if Yūji went back to Sendai, there would be nothing left of his old life, there was no way he could ever eat his grandfather’s homecooked meals again. What could you do to help him fill this hole, this loss that was so overwhelming? You had lost family too, but you still had a home to return to, some place to feel entirely safe. The thought, that no matter where Yūji went, he would never feel quite safe suddenly hit you. Not as long as he was possessed by Sukuna.

Suddenly anger bubbled in your chest, pushing aside the grief and fear of the night, and the pain you felt for your friend. As long as Sukuna possessed Yūji, he could never be happy. So you had to find a way to get rid of him.

“Yūji,” you repeated, your voice calmer this time, now that you had finally found a proper thought to express. “I promise you we’ll find a way to exorcise Sukuna. And we’ll free Gojō-sensei and deal with Kenjaku. And when all that is over, we’ll sit down with Megumi and Gojō-sensei and we’ll all make Naporitan Pasta together, in honour of your grandfather. I promise you. So please. Don’t give up. Don’t stop fighting. We need you. I need you. Please.”

Your declaration was followed by more silence, but at least he didn’t seem to throw up anymore.

“Do you promise?” His voice was weak and sounded like he was far away with his thoughts.

“Yes, I do. I promise.”

“Can we have pancakes with strawberries and cream for dessert?”

“As many as you like. I know a really good recipe,” you answered, the weight in your heart lifting a little.

“Okay,” Yūji agreed. “Uhm… can I ask you something?”

“Yes, anything,” you quickly replied, perking up.

“When I open the door… can you- would it be okay if we wouldn’t hug or anything?”

Confused you blinked, but nodded your head before you remembered that he couldn’t see you.

“Oh, ahm, sure. Of course.”

“It’s just-”

“You don’t have to explain-”

“But I want to explain,” Yūji interrupted you. “I just feel like, if someone were to touch me now, I’d have another…” he hesitated for a moment, “another panic attack. Because after all that… how could I allow anyone to touch me, when I’m the one who’s responsible for-”

“You’re not the one responsible! Yūji, please, you need to understand-”

“It doesn’t matter right now, okay? It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted you, sounding impatient. “I just- I just don’t want anyone to touch me, alright? I can’t have anyone touch me. Promise me?”

You took a shaky breath closing your eyes before you answered.

“Okay, I understand,” you assured him. “I won’t touch you unless you want me to, I promise. But I’m here for whatever you need, okay? I also got water and something to eat if you want, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Yūji answered from behind the closed door. “Uhm, one more thing…”

Quietly you listened to what he had to say, blinking your eyes open again.

“I’ve taken quite a beating through the night and Ieiri-sensei couldn’t heal all of it at once so… don’t be alarmed, okay?”

You swallowed, trying to get rid of the painful lump in your throat. You had seen Yūji earlier, before Ieiri-sensei had treated him; you knew what state he had been in. If he warned you now about his appearance…

“I’m not looking exactly fresh either,” you told him, trying to sound cheerful, “I’m sure both of us have looked better than today.”

A small hum sounded from the other side of the door, before you heard shuffling of clothes, the clinking of porcelain against stone tiles and the sound of shoes on dusty ground.

Quickly you scrambled away from the door, but it swung open before you had gotten to your feet. Yūji was right, he still looked quite beaten up. The two worst wounds in his face were healed to fresh, pink scars, but smaller cuts and bruises still littered his skin, not to mention the blood and dust that stuck to his hair and clothes. A red spot was forming on his forehead, slightly swollen with a few scratches in the centre, where he had hit his head against the wall. Underneath his eyes dark circles, quite similar to those of his self-declared older brother, seemed to have taken up permanent residence. Your eyes dropped to his right hand, fresh blood running down his fingers from cuts on the knuckles and dripping to the ground.

“Your hand-!”

Almost you would’ve forgotten what he had requested of you, but your stopped yourself just in time before you reached out, staring up at him from where you were sitting on the ground instead.

“I punched a mirror,” he admitted, his beautiful eyes looking away from you in shame. “I saw those marks under my eyes and I- I got so angry.”

You swallowed again thickly but nodded.

“Let’s get you to Ieiri-sensei,” you decided, scrambling to your feet.

Up closer to his face, you could see the tear streaks on his dusty cheeks. The longer you looked at him the more your heart ached, and the harder it got to stick to your word of not touching him, when all you wanted to do was pull him into a long hug. He sure looked like he needed it. But he had explicitly asked you not to touch him, so you wouldn’t.

“I’m sure she can do something for your hand and those cuts on your arms and stomach.” You gestured to where his uniform had been ripped apart, showing shallow cuts on his pale skin.

“Thank you,” Yūji mumbled, but when you gestured for him to walk ahead, he didn’t move.

“Don’t thank me, thank her,” you tried smiling, knowing you were failing terribly.

“No, I mean… thank you for coming looking for me. And respecting that I don’t want to be touched right now. I know you want to hug me, or want me to hug you… you deserve it so much after this night but I just can’t right now and-“

“And that’s okay. If I want a hug, I’ll ask Panda. He’s cuddly,” you assured Yūji. “I know you feel like the weight of the world is resting on your shoulders. And maybe it is. And while you carry a lot of responsibility, you don’t carry the responsibility of giving me hugs whenever I want them, yeah?”

A small smile tucked at Yūji’s lips, and he nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Sure thing,” you nodded.

“Hey, you said you had something to drink-”

Quickly you dropped the bag to the floor, and pulled out a bottle of the sports drinks, Ieiri-sensei had packed for Yūji and you, handing it to him. He unscrewed it and emptied it in one go.

“Need more,” you offered, holding a second bottle out to him.

“You first,” he demanded, signalling you to drink first.

Obediently you unscrewed the cap and took a few long gulps, the sweetened liquid running down your throat and washing away the salty taste of tears in your mouth.

“How are you,” he suddenly asked, his dark eyes watching carefully as you drank.

After a few sips, you put the bottle down and handed it to Yūji, who eyed it for a moment but waited for your reply.

“Been better,” you admitted. “Tonight was… a lot. But I’m not as badly injured as you – or possessed – so I can’t really complain.”

“Just because others are off worse than you, doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to feel terrible,” Yūji mumbled, chewing on his lower lip. “I know what you’ve seen. Even if it had just been a stupid tv show, or anime or something… the things we saw tonight are enough to give me nightmares for a lifetime. So, I understand how you feel. Don’t down-play it for my sake.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, finishing it as well, before looking back to you again. “I’m asking again. How are you?”

Trying to keep the tears at bay the shot into your eyes, knowing this time you’d have to confront these feeling inside your chest, pursed your lips before answering.

“Horrible,” you pressed out, sniffing.

Yūji nodded. “If you ever need anything, someone to talk to, someone to wake you up from a nightmare… I’ll always be there for you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. And I’ll be there for you.”

“You already are,” he answered.

Neither of you mentioned when you handed him some cereal bar and he hesitantly brushed the tips of his fingers against yours as he took if from you, or how he grabbed your arm to pull you off the floor.

As you made your way back to the staircase that would lead you to the surface, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was important that it had been you, who had come looking for Yūji. You weren’t sure why, but then the backs of his fingers brushed against yours while walking. Instinctively you wanted to draw your hand away, after all you had agreed not to touch him. But then his pinkie brushed yours again, this time linking with it, and you relaxed. For the first time in hours a part of the tension fell away, and you dropped your shoulders, only focusing on the sensation of Yūji’s warm and rough skin against yours. Maybe he wasn’t ready for a hug, but this little bit of contact, contact initiated by him, was more than enough comfort.

At the foot of the staircase he stopped, bringing you to a stop as well.

“I need you, too,” he admitted, his huge, brown, with pain filled eyes glancing over at you for a moment. Confused you furrowed your brows, but then you understood he was referring to what you had said earlier. That you needed him.

You nodded in acknowledgement, taking a shaky breath when you realized that he was not only referring to the war with the curses you were about to face, but to himself generally. The same way you had meant it earlier.

Yūji gently squeezed your pinkie, and nodded back, before you both faced forward again. It would be a long way, to sitting down with Gojō-sensei and Megumi, eating food together, but you would get there, you knew it. And the first step you had to take was up this dusty flight of stairs, Yūji’s pinkie safely intertwined with yours.

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gingerylangylang1979 · 8 months

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Does Carmy die in the end? Don't hate me.

Ok @thoughtfulchaos773, here's the post.

I've been thinking for a while that Carmy may die in the finale. I may not be able to write this post as intelligently as it deserves but here it go.

You know how shows tend to end how they begin? The pilot begins with Carmy on a bridge with the bear in a cage. This is a dream and seems like a final showdown with his nemesis/alter ego. They are about to battle and then a car horn and swerving sound breaks the dream state and Carmy wakes up in his reality. We also get a scene of a body in a morgue. We assume it's Mikey but what if it's Carmy. We also hear voices from Micheal as if him and Carmy are in the same realm.

All throughout the show driving is a theme. It always seemed noteworthy to me because it's a show themed around cooking. Why is driving so important?

In "Hands" there is a lot of emphasis on who can drive and who can't. In "Dogs", there is confusion on where Cicero lives. Cicero later discusses a dream about Carmy's dad driving and what seems to imply Carmy is the little boy flying forever in the air. Sounds ominous. Syd names her catering company Sheridan Road. In season two Carmy and Claire make random trips out to the suburbs and needing a ride is central. Why do either of them really need a ride to do these errands? Donna crashes her car into the family home. Syd tells Richie to drive friends and family night.

Now back to it all coming full circle. There has been a lot of speculation of Carmy leaving for a different career or not. If we fully accept that he doesn't leave by choice, he could leave due to death. Why does everyone from the health inspector to Mr. Sirsky (sp?) confuse Carmy as the dead brother?

Carmy seems to be gradually handing the place over and disappearing but it doesn't seem to be conscious. That would make him seem suicidal like Mikey. But it's not that, he has no idea he's setting up his departure. He gives Tina the knife. His new whites have his initials in san serif white font, not the pronounced blue cursive, like he's a ghost. Syd's scenes parallel his as if she is meant to take over. He tells her it's her ship and I'll dial business you are everything else. Syd and Carmy are often shown in ethereal light, like Mikey looking back at Carmy in 1.8. Do they both pass on and Syd is the new hope/destiny?

And then, again there is the reference back to the pilot if this all comes true and full circle. Anybody who watched Six Feet Under gets it. I always found these two stories very similar. In the pilot Nate (Carmy) has an aneurysm. We kind of forget about it because the story shifts to him coming back home as the prodigal son and the whole family dealing with the death of the patriarch and the passing over of the family business. The brother who stayed (Richie) is resentful. He stayed. He didn't really want to be a mortician but it was how he stayed close to the family and tried to bond with the dad. The business is in shambles and they have to "change the chemistry" to make it work. A new talent (Sydney) comes in that makes it all better and offers a different perspective. I won't go into the entire plot but in the end what happens? Nate dies. Aneurysm. Full circle. This is often how shows end. There are often clues.

My theory is that somehow Cicero and his dad tie into some sort of trip to the suburbs. I honestly think Cicero is Carmy's real dad. I feel somehow this will come to light and he makes a trip to see one of them. Why was Carmy confused about where Cicero lives? I don't think that was a throwaway line.

Does Carmy die in a car accident in the suburbs?

I may have left out a few things but I dunno, thoughts?

#the bear fx #carmy berzatto #finale theory #driving

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theoutcastrogue · 16 days

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"I read used books because fingerprint-smudged and dog-eared pages are heavier on the eye. Because every book can belong to many lives. Books should be kept in public places and step out with passersby who’ll hold onto them for a spell. Books should die like people, consumed by aches and pains, infected, drowning off a bridge together with the suicides, poked into a potbellied stove, torn apart by children to make paper boats. They should die of anything, in other words, except boredom, as private property condemned to a life sentence on the shelf."

— Erri De Luca, Three Horses

#Erri De Luca #Three Horses #rogues in fiction #books #information wants to be free

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id0ntknow-whoiam · 8 months

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God Forbid

james marriott x f reader angst/smut

description- he needs you to help him forget

warning- 18+, contains mentions of suicidal thoughts and self harm

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

our flat glows dimly with the only light being casted off the television. i’m sitting on ghe sofa aimlessly and anxiously checking my phone.

thump thump thump thump, my heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest, my breath not being able to keep up.

i keep thinking back to what happened before he left. what if he actually did it? he’s not seriously going to that bridge right? he can’t he loves me. he knows i love him.

“You always say that james…how you’re so miserable, why can’t i be enough for you?” i feel my voice crack, tearing welling up in my eyes. he stands in front of my eyes glassy. “you know i’m always here for you, i understand…..”

“oh for fucks sake stop looking at me like i’m a fucking stray dog!” he snips at me

I feel my eyes fall to the floor for a moment trying to figure out what to say. I look back up at him and reach for his hand.

“darling please, talk to me. I can’t read your mind as much as I would love to, you have to talk to me!”

he flinches away from me

thump thump thump thump

that’s when the feeling that my chest was going to explode started. shortness of breath followed.

“I need some air..”

James walks around me.

“James please, where are you going?” my voice sounds like it’s miles away

he doesn’t even turn around he just slams the door behind him and I’m left with nothing but my thoughts.

he had been open with me whenever we had first started dating and he struggled with depression and alcoholism which I tried my best to help him through. at first, I thought it was helping. he got better he was my sweet boy again. but then something changed. things got worse…he got worse and the only place that he ever wanted to be was not with me, but on a bridge, so high up no one could survive a fall like that. but I don’t think he wanted to.

~~~~~~~

It had been about an hour with still no word from him. I had been checking my phone nonstop stop sending text after text.

James, please don’t do this

I love you

won’t you call me one more time?

nothing but silence

until a few moments later my phone started to vibrate against my lap.

“hello?? James?”

“Darling it’s beautiful up here you know”

“James please come home I need you here with me”

“I feel like I can breathe, isn’t that strange? being able to breathe in London.”

he lets out a sigh, my hands start to shake

“sweetheart I’m coming to check on you alright?”

I try and control the panic in my voice

“no no no darling it’s ok I'll be home in a few minutes”

I let out a sigh of relief

“ok I love you”

my heart sank when I heard his side of the call go dead

he never said it any more

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

after what felt like an eternity I heard the door unlock.

I rush over to him checking everyone I can.

he’s shaking, tears streaming down his pink-tinted cheeks.

“James what happened…tell me what you did”

I gently grab his arm looking up at him for permission. he silently nods his head. I roll up the sleeves of his hoodie. To my relief, there is nothing but the healing scars covering his arms. but nothing fresh.

I look back up and him then kiss his arms

“you aren't alone, I’m here, and a lot of people are here for you”

I see the tears continue to run down his face he looks at me with not what I thought to be love or adoration but need.

his hands rub up my arms, cupping my cheeks. that’s when he places a kiss on my lips.

at first, i’m not sure what to do, he’s kissed me so many times before but this time felt different, colder.

“James what are you?…”

he cuts me off with another kiss slowly backing me against our flat wall.

“Please I need you. take the pain away please.”

he almost whines.

his lips come to my neck kisses ever so softly.

I let out a sigh

and I let him use me. because I love him and I want him to love me and if that means that all I'm good for is making him forget then so be it.

we make our way into the bedroom I fall to the bed with him hovering above me. he lifts my blouse off me and throws it to the floor attacking my chest, sucking bruises into my collar bone.

this doesn’t feel right he isn’t normally like this

I sit up and push him back taking my bra off.

he eyes me up and down before laying back on me.

what would have normally happened was he would have taken his time, making love to me. but this was it. I knew it was. I couldn’t help him if he couldn’t help himself and he had realized on that bridge that if he wanted to live he could bear to keep hurting me.

he kissed down my stomach slipping my underwear off. I lift his head and cup his cheek making him look at me

I wanted him to just hold me one more time. but he didn’t instead he went back to kissing around my thighs.

he licked and sucked on my clit just the way he knew I liked. he moaned into me whenever I would grip his hair to keep him there. he was savoring every last drop he could have.

“F-uck James feels so good darling”

he didn’t stop he didn’t look up at me like he normally would. he didn’t mutter “Yes sweetheart you taste so good for me”

instead, it almost looked like he was on autopilot.

after a few minutes, he climbs back up my body and for the first time the kiss we share doesn’t feel like love it feels like the bitter taste of black coffee

I pull his jeans off him and toss them to the floor along with his shirt

“James are you sure you want to…”

he doesn’t let me finish what I was saying before he’s pushing into me.

“fuck” he grunts

he starts at a slow and grueling pace but quickly picks it up after I have been moaning in his ear

“Please James so close baby”

he fucks me, fucks away the bad thoughts he has, the terrible things he has been doing to himself. he lets it all out in me.

“y/n…fuck..so tight, you feel so good”

I moan at the praise but I don’t feel it.

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

the next morning I wake up to an empty bed. his jeans and shirt picked up from the floor. I looked at my phone to see what time it was “10:47 am”

I roll over to face his side of the bed. grab his pillow and hold it to my chest. I can’t stop the tears from falling down my face.

my phone vibrates on my dresser

I don’t look at it

I know what it’s going to say

his drawers are empty, his guitar isn’t leaning against the wall anymore.

I turn over and grab my phone

“I’m sorry I wasn’t enough”

the end.

——————————-

A/N

OK SO I KNOW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY BUT I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED IT. I PROMISE EVERYTHING I WRITE WON'T BE EXTREMELY DEPRESSING.

#james marriott smut #james marriott x reader #smut #angst

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oddinary4bts · 10 months

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Already posted this on my instagram account and all so hopefully none of you guys know me irl lmao but TW: suicide attempt

365 days of memories. 365 days since a Christmas party, spiralling, and a knife. 365 days since the police sirens, and the trip to the hospital. 365 days since white walls and neon lights, and a stay-over I so wished I’d never have to participate in. 365 days since I lied and said I’m fine, so that I would get sent back home. 365 days later, I’m thankful for every breath I take. For the life I get to live, and the life I almost took from myself. 365 days later, I have a dog, my dream apartment, and I live the life I wanted to live when I was 12 and things were so dark. 365 days ago, I almost crossed the rainbow bridge because the perpetrator lived and breathed and smiled when I barely survived. I thought, if they can be so happy after what they’ve done, what’s the point? It took me 365 days to realize that they win if you give up. So here’s to never giving up, and to the next 365 days of memories I’ll get to make✨

#tw suicide attempt #personal #about me #face reveal #i’m alive bitches #and not going anywhere #love you all🫶🏼#please be kind to yourself #and love yourself #Spotify

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ravencincaide · 1 year

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Live a little

Summary: Dazai and Chuuya were dead set on attending your coming of age ceremony, even if they had to drag you there personally. Or the time you were forced to play your age.

Pairing: Dazai x fem! reader x Chuuya

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 4: Non-sexual age play

Warning: Suicide attempt, cursing,

Enjoy~

______________________________________________________________

Falling.

You could feel the icy wind prick at your bare skin. Could hear the soothing swooshing gently hum in your ears as your body fell further and further from the bridge. Your eyes locked onto the figure sitting on the edge, his hands dropping to his side after having pushed you. You couldn’t see his expression, blurry from the wind and distance. But you could guess it was a mixture of envy, a bit of sadness and guilt hidden behind a happy carefree grin.

Ice cold.

Your hands were limp by your side and only your feet seemed surprised at the sudden loss of ground. Your lips were parted, the end of the conversation on the tip of your tongue that never made it out. You didn’t scream, you didn't yell or and didn’t even scold him for the stunt, a part of you not even fully registering that you might be falling to your death. It was hard to say whether it was your depression and the hopeful thought that your suffering may be over or if it was the seemingly naive belief that despite your fall you wouldn't actually die. Simply because they wouldn’t let you.

Water.

You could feel the way the wind turned icier moments before your back made contact with the surface of the lake. The sound was deafening; like it was announcing to the whole world your desire to depart it. You could feel it eveloping you like an icy hug that made you gasp, drawing in a mouthful of water. Whoever said dying by falling off a bridge was peaceful was an idiot.

As you sank lower you could see the ripples from the water settling, revealing the image of your favorite mafiaso standing at the edge. His hat and the orange hair was a dead giveaway. It made you smile despite yourself, Chuuya. Your sweetheart. It was such a shame he came.

You watched him crouch down at the edge of the lake, legs tense. You could hear a cry through the water; he was calling your name. You knew Chuuya would not let you die. If it were up to him he’d make you some kind of eternal deity he’d keep locked up in his room until he’d find a way to create some meaning for you. The way he did with Dazai. It made you close your eyes for a moment, salvaging the burning in your lungs for a few seconds longer; the gentle hum of nothingness in your head and the sweet allure of a painless death if only you’d stay a little bit longer.

If dying by drowning was peaceful than coming back from it was anything but. You were not intending to let things go so far. Not this morning.

Reluctantly you twisted your body until you were right side up before you forced your legs to kick. Your heavy arms moving above your head pushing the water away from yourself. When you broke the surface you took a deep breath, satisfying your body’s craving. You heard a sigh of relief and flickered your eyes towards Chuuya, who had stood up and was looking down at you with a deep frown on his face. Beside him stood Dazai, significantly more happy looking. And then there was you; drenched, cold and still alive sharing more resemblance with a wet dog than a mafiaso girlfriend.

Before you could muse on that fact for a moment longer, Dazai clapped his hands in mock glee.

“ Now that we have gotten your suicide attempt out of the way, Donna which do you prefer?” Dazai asked almost too cheerfully holding up two hangers, an outfit in each; one was a brightly coloured Kimono you couldn’t fully see the design and the second was a much more western attire of a white shirt with lace sleeves, and a pair of black booty shorts with chains and combat boots.

“ Neither” you squealed out, wrapping your arms almost protectively over your chest. “ Both are ridiculous!”

“ Just as ridiculous as jumping off the bridge,” Chuuya muttered, lighting himself a smoke. Some days he was done with your bullshit before the day had even begun.

“ Hey!” you called your eyes flickering to Dazai ready to point out that you hadn’t necessarily jumped- the rack of bandages had thrown you off mid conversation. “ Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

“ Then enlighten me damn it” Chuuya growled. When you didn’t answer he took another deep drag of the smoke, holding his breath for a moment before breathing it out. He appeared calmer. “ If you’ve decided to not die today then the least you should do is live a little. Pick an outfit sweetheart before I come over there and dress you myself.”

You were wrong about him being calmer. And the fact that he and Dazai were in agreement about something made you very very afraid. “ But i’m not a little kid anymore” you argued weakly “ Besides neither you nor Dazai went to your ceremony, why do I need to go to mine?”

“ Then pretend you’re a kid damn it and get your ass dressed, Y/N, Right now. “ Was all the reply you got, along with a pair of bright red eyes and several rocks inching their way off the ground in warning. Chuuya was threatening to fulfill his earlier comment of dressing you himself. A few steps behind Chuuya, Dazai was grinning a little too happily knowing he used the least amount of effort possible to get you in the outfits he picked AND manage to annoy Chuuya in the process.

It never ceases to amaze you how easily he played you both.

After you waddled out of the lake you made your way towards Dazai, grabbed the hanger he held out to you before heading back towards the house the three of you rented for the week. The two of them followed a few steps behind not saying much, like prison guards making sure you wouldn’t commit a prison break.

“ How am I supposed to get ready anyway?” you asked as you held out the kimono a distance away from yourself, making sure not to drip any of the lakewater onto it. “ It’s not exactly a one-person procedure when it comes to traditional clothing.”

“ Don’t you worry your pretty head about that, Belladonna I’ve taken care of it” Dazai practically bounced ahead of you, opening the door to reveal two asakusa Geisha standing in the living room. “ Ta-da!”

You groaned as the two girls giggled before they approached you. Like the skillful dancers they were, they circled you in a graceful fashion before pulling you towards the stairs. Their movements resemble the flutter of butterfly wings. “ Second door on the left” Dazai called out as they ushed you towards said room. The last thing you heard was Chuuya’s “ Try to have fun sweetheart” before the door closed behind you three. Then their gentle hands began tugging on you; your soaking clothes, then your hair, twisting and turning you towards the bathroom then getting you clean despite your protests. Soft hands patting your skin dry then applying creams and lotions before they began the tedious process of wrapping you up in the underlayers of the kimono. As they were getting you ready you learned that the attire you were being restrained into was not just any kimono, but a furisode which, aside from its intricate design and tradition to be extremely tight to the body, also had the addition of long sleeves. As if that wasn’t a tripping hazard enough, it was to be worn with Zori sandals which ensured you could maximum take microscopic steps at a time.

A proper woman, the Geisha reminded you, did not need to run or rush anywhere.

When they finally finished wrapping you up in the layers of cloth and silk, it was time for hair and make up. The girls working in unison, babbling or singing as means to try and entertain you and lighten the sour look on your face. They were doing their absolute best to make you look stunning. Aside from their gentle, serene voices you could hear yelling downstairs, Mackerel, dog, dirty and bastard thrown back and forths. What the point of the argument actually was you couldn’t make out but for a moment you were actually glad to be inside this room rather than outside dealing with whatever mischief the two executives were up to.

Another hour and the girls were ready with you and helped you back downstairs towards the living room to where the two Mafia were nursing a drink each which they put aside the moment you appeared. Dazai was the first to approach you.

“ You’re stunning Belladonna, I could just-” Dazai’s lips were hovering above yours in seconds, a dark wild look in his eyes which tinted your pale cheeks a dusty pink in anticipation.

“ Slimy mackerel!” You heard Chuuya call out before he grabbed Dazai by the back of the neck and pulled him off you in one rough motion. Almost making you stumble in the process. Your look of surprise was soon replaced with one of disappointment;

“ What? Not even a kiss?”

“ Not unless you want to smear that make up, lets go” Chuuya grabbed your hand and led you, at your pace, to the car where he helped you get in. You tried not to let it get to you how much colder he was than usual. You barely managed to get settled in the car before Chuuya pulled out of the driveway, with Dazai half hanging out of the shotgun window calling incoherent sweetness to the two laughing Geisha. For once you could understand him though, those Geisha were really pretty.

The drive towards your coming-of-age ceremony which in Tokyo was held at Tokyo Disneypark was rather uneventful. Music blasting from the speakers and Dazai falsely singing to words he couldn’t know or understand. Chuuya was throwing insults at him, telling him to shut up or how annoying he was. Neither gave you much attention, giving you a chance to steady your nerves. At least until you pulled closer to your destination. Then Dazai decided to play twenty questions about the different areas in Tokyo, asking whether you knew the place he was pointing out and and what you did there when you were growing up. The time ticked by faster this way, until you pulled up behind a long row of cars heading into Tokyo Disney. How you found a parking spot there was beyond you, but you had arrived along with hundreds of other Japanese youths and their closest friends and family. Giggling, screaming, yelling. The sight made a wave of anger course through you. They were acting like children!

“ Just look at them!” you muttered, staring at a group of girls posing while making signs with their fingers “ There’s no way any one of them is as happy or comfortable as they’re trying to make it out to be.”

“ And you know what? That's exactly how you’ll be acting today, Sweetheart” Chuuya declared, pulling you to him as Dazai jumped up in front of you two with a raised camera yelling ‘cheese’. You blinked as the flash from the camera blinded you before you were quick to plaster a smile on your face after a threatening look from them both. Them agreeing on anything without a fight terrified you enough not to argue back with their decision, even if it meant you needed to smile like an idiot and act like a teenager for the rest of the day.

Fake or not.

As you approached the long lines, a tired attendant checked your invitation quickly before letting the three of you pass, directing you towards the stage in front of which hundreds of plastic chairs were placed. You found a place for three people and sat down, relieved to be off your feet. Chuuya and Dazai sat on either side of you, one sitting patiently leaned back against the chair, hat pulled down over his eyes while you waited, his fingers playing with your hand in his lap. Then there was Dazai who’s eyes flickered between the bright colours of the Disney World to the hundreds of young women surrounding him. His eyes lingered especially long on those who chose a more western attire, revealing significantly more skin than traditional Japanese wear. You sighed despite yourself turning your attention to Chuuya.

“ Do we have to stay?” You mumbled to him “ Dazai’s attention has already wavered, surely you can’t think it's fun to sit and listen to a bunch of officials and other figures, among a bunch of teenagers who barely know how to wipe their own snot!”

Chuuya didn’t pull his hat up as he spoke,“ Sweetheart, you’ll appreciate this when you’re older” he stated before continuing the next sentence almost as an afterthought “ Not many in Port Mafia experience this, so just think of it as a mission okay?”

“ There’s a reason for it. Come on, we both know that I don’t need a ceremony to tell me ‘I’m an adult now’ and that it’s now ‘okay to drink’ or- yeah I’ve already seen all there is to it.” You concluded deciding not to bring up the liters of blood staining your hands.

“ I can think of a thing or two you still haven’t, Sweetheart” he flashed you a grin before turning his attention towards the stage.

You frowned trying to think what he was getting at. When nothing came to mind you began wondering if this trip was more an excuse to take some time away from Yokohama. Before you could ask him about it, people around you began clapping as the first speaker made their way onto the stage with an inspirational and congratulatory speech, welcoming all the children on their coming-of-age ceremony; which cemented their status as adults and the future of Japan.

Despite your negative attitude towards the entire thing, even you felt a little bit inspired as more and more speakers talked. The fact that Dazai and Chuuya remained silent and focused the entire time, holding your hands between their own, indicated that this was in the very least interesting for them too. As you sat there quietly in a sea of youths with their parents and families, you couldn’t help but wonder how the two mafioso’s felt about all this. Were they sad that a huge part of their childhood was robbed away from them to the point they prioritized work; killing and sinning instead of partying, studying and stressing over entrance exams for university- something that felt so meaningless in your line of work? Were they reminiscing about what could have been? And was that why they were so determined you wouldn’t miss yours? Or did they use your ceremony as an excuse to catch up on together-time?

Something told you it was a little bit of all that.

You sighed in relief when the last speaker got off the stage several hours later. You were stiff and tired, ready to call it a day. Yet the second your sandal clad feet touched the ground Dazai was already bouncing ahead of you. “ Ehh Y/N over here, you can high-five Donald Duck!” Dazai yelled, pulling you along with him, nearly having you fall over several times while trying to keep up.

After Donald Duck gave you a high five, Chuuya appeared beside you with a Minie hanging off his neck and a Mickey eveloping you in a hug while Dazai took a ton of pictures before jumping in to take selfies with Minie who, almost comically picked him up and spun him around like a doll. The act made you laugh a little, almost missing the high five Chuuya gave to Mickey which hid a bunch of cash in his hand. Then he dragged you away towards game stalls, ignoring Dazai’s comical cry for help.

When Dazai finally caught up with you, he was less than pleased. Yelling about beating Chuuya’s ass before you started playing the games. As the day progressed the fake smile you plastered for the sake of your loves slowly turned into a real ones; the laugh you gave when Chuuya won against Dazai in a shooting game was real, just as much as the confident smirk you gave the two when you scored more points than either of them at basketball shooting game. Then having Dazai teasingly poke fun at you after you repeatedly lost at Super Ball Scooping without getting a single ball, before having to eat his own words when he did not fare much better. On the other hand Dazai completely annihilated you and Chuuya in bean bag toss and later rope ladder climbing- which you didn’t attempt in your current attire. Chuuya on the other hand set a new record for whack-a- mole.

It looked like he had some frustration to release.

After a few more hours you grabbed a bite to eat, varying between western festival food and traditional japanese. By then the sun was setting and the last warm rays were fading away. The chilly breeze felt cold in your Kimono, especially as you three picked a standing spot against the railes, overlooking the theme park. Seeing you shiver, Chuuya wrapped his coat around you, earning himself a grateful smile in return before you went back to slowly eating your food. You didn’t attempt to give him a kiss, since both of them completely refused any romantic gestures aside from hand holding.

While you were out playing many of Disney world games you hadn’t thought much about it, now however your mind was twisting this unusual behavior into all sorts of scenarios. The key one filled you with a sense of melancholy; like this was their way of saying goodbye.

The sentiment remained as the first fireworks lit the dark sky up in shimmers of gold and silver, followed by flowers of purple and red that pulsed to the rhythm of the music. Staring at the fireworks you felt like your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. Your head rested on Dazai’s shoulder, while you held Chuuya’s hand tightly in your own. You were intending to salvage this precious moment, like the calm before a storm. As the final firework lit up the sky and faded away you let out a sigh. People clapped for a few minutes, some shouted ‘encore’ before eventually the crowds began leaving. Still you stayed in your spot, leaning against the rail.

“ It’s a shame it's time to head back” you mumbled knowing the park would close soon and with it, drawing this little game you played to an end. The thought made you slightly sad. Maybe it was not too bad to be a teenager sometimes.

Hearing you speak they both nodded wordlessly and untangled themselves from you, before beginning to head back the way you came. They paused only when they noticed you weren’t trailing behind them. Instead you were salvaging the sight of Disney World and its magic for a moment longer before you turned to face them with an honest smile radiating on your lips; “ But I have to admit you two were right, it was a pretty amazing day so- thank you” you folded your hands in front of yourself and bowed as lowly as the kimono would let you, showing your deepest gratitude in true polite Japanese fashion.

Before you could raise your head however, you felt Chuuyas gloved hand grip your right wrist and Dazai’s cold fingers on your left one. Then with a single tug, they pulled you forward, tipping you off your balance until you crashed into them. There they held you, their hands gripping you much tighter than usual.

“ Oh Belladonna,” you could practically hear Dazai’s smirk in his voice, a silky sweet purr which he never used on you. His hot breath right above your ear “ Now that you’re officially an adult, it’s time we show you some real adult entertainment.”

You looked up surprised, before turning your questioning look towards Chuuya. Nearly missing the mischievous expression on his face seconds before he closed the distance between your lips. For the first time that day, he was kissing you like the adult you've become.

#bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x reader x chuuya #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #sweetober #coming of age #hand holding #kissing

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mysticalsoot · 1 year

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someone to (not) watch me die

mistki and dsmp dr? tears.

➸ note; um so i got one too many dsmp crimeboys edits on my fyp that inspired this monstrosity. i don't often cry at whatever I write, especially while writing it but I'm still recovering so.. fair warning. its based off my dsmp dr with @lillylvjy so that's why its very very very canon adjacent. anyways, listen to I bet on losing dogs by mitski while reading (have it on repeat) if you want an extra lil sting. also I uh may have used this photo on a diff fic before but if I did, no I didn't!

➸ pairing; c!lmanbur x gn!reader

➸ summary; wilbur's been distant lately but when you finally convince him to spend some time with you, your life takes a dramatic turn. he doesn't always keep his promises.

➸ warning; hurt absolutely no comfort, MCD !!! incredibly implied suicide/assisted suicide (going into a battle knowing he's not coming back), swearing probably, overuse of baby (sue me), reader kinda wants to off themselves at the end but uh who wouldn't? implied age gap

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 2k

main masterlist // part 2

it wasn't uncommon for wilbur to be distant with you, he always had his moments where he was less than loving. but he always had his moments, the nights where he'd come home after a day of work, crawling into bed and holding onto you like his life line. he'd kiss all over your face and murmur sweet words and praises, how much he loved and adored and appreciated you.

yet, the next day when you woke up, he'd be back in his office, working by lamplight and only responding with hums and refusing eye contact. it was torture for you. getting him again, held in your arms and so close to your heart only for him to walk away. to turn off his warmth and shove the cold into your face.

there came a day where you wouldn't seek him out anymore, you'd let him come to you if he so desired. but he often didn't, and when he would exist out of his office once in his adult life, he'd simply complain about the war or his enemies or his father or his brothers. if anything, more complaints slipped past his lips than a simple 'i love you'.

of course, you wondered if it was your fault, if you did something that turned him off from you, made him shut you out. yet you also wondered if he found you to be a bother, or something that only held him back. granted it was known he was a bit older than you, it didn't really matter but maybe it finally got to him. where he internalized it and thought it would lessen his chances of being elected or keeping office for the country of L'manburg. you thought it was stupid, but it wasn't so out of the picture.

the day started out like most others, you'd tend to yourself, eating and showering and doing something to keep your mind at peace. often baking or crafting, or going out to the flower fields to check on what has newly grown. you began to get restless, hearing wilbur from upstairs. he's pacing and mumbling to himself. most likely frustrated with something new, something he must be writing. something with lmanburg. something that has nothing to do with you.

but you want to mend things, you want to heal things or at least build a temporary bridge between the two of you. you're desperate for closeness again, and while you'd never admit it to him; you could never love another like he. you simply couldn't find the same type or amount of love in your heart for another person. another insane man like him.

so, you set out to pick a bouquet of his favorite flowers, pruning them and putting them in a vase you both made together early on in your relationship. you filled it with water and sugar, placing the cut flowers in the vase and tying a ribbon around the glass and making a bow before starting your trip up the stairs and into his office. you sigh softly before knocking on the door.

you hear shuffling for a moment, drawers opening and the sound of paper rustling before wilbur sighs deeply, "come in, love."

you open the door, stepping in and closing it behind you, his face held in his hands on his desk. he lifts his gaze to catch on you as you set the flowers on his desk. his gaze softens on you, almost sad and mournful and you can't quite place why.

a sour, sad smile curves on his lips, "what are those, dear?" he pats his thigh, beckoning you to him. he hasn't done that in months--but you'd be a fool to decline, so you quickly run over, sliding into his lap and resting against his chest.

"flowers for you," you sigh, nestling your nose against his neck, his hands coming up behind your head to rub at your hair.

"why, baby?" his voice cracks softly and he leans his face down to your cheek, kissing the soft skin before nuzzling his nose against the shell of your ear.

"a reminder that you can't throw me away," it comes out as more of a whine than you would have liked it to, but as always, you become vulnerable around him. there isn't much you can hide.

he's silent, his body tensing up at your words as he combs his fingers through your hair. his breath shakes, but he hides any emotion he must be feeling too well for you to pick it out.

"I haven't thrown you away. you're my baby, yes?" he croons softly, his lips ghosting over your temple and cheek, placing kisses as a silent truce.

"then why do I never see you?" you huff, pulling your body closer to his as a way to soak in the attention. or to receive comfort. you are his baby, but you aren't strong enough to admit it.

"I'm busy, that's all, love. I'm here now, aren't I?" he sucks in a breath after he speaks, hands now both in your hair and on your back, trying to give you that comfort you seek.

"you should come to bed earlier tonight. just.. I want you to be around me, for once."

you can tell he takes a moment to think, gears turning in his skull as his fingers trace on your back, ghosting over the skin.

"I can try," he breathes softly, his face in your hair, and his hand held on the back of your head.

"do you promise, wilbur?" you whisper, pressing your hands into his back.

"I promise," he kisses your forehead, holding your face in his hands as he keeps you in front of him, "I have some more work to do, I'll see you later, okay?"

he brushes stray strands of hair out of your face before placing a few kisses around your face, landing a final sweet kiss to your lips.

"okay, okay," you whisper, like a promise to yourself as you step out of his lap, walking to the door and standing there for a moment before turning to face him.

"enjoy the flowers. i love you, okay?" you smile softly, and he meets your eyes, an apology held in his irises that you can't quite register fully.

"I love you too. i will, I always do," he smiles sweetly, waving at you as you leave his office and head downstairs. you're partly thankful he has work for a bit more, you had plans of going to nikis bakery to pick up a few pastries for the two of you to share and your hope is that he'll be done by the time you're back. so you slip on your shoes and take the walk towards town square. it's nice today, the leaves are falling all ready to crunch under the feet of L'manburg's citizens. the wind brushes your cheeks, chilling the skin and bringing that familiar fall redness.

you always enjoyed fall walks, and it always brought you joy but the prospect of spending time with wilbur this evening put an extra pep in your step. you wave at any familiar face, smiling softly and greeting all of the sellers at their booths. you don't notice your sister not being at her flower shop, or Tommy not tending his fireworks stand in front of it. you don't notice many of the things that are painfully off about the day, your happiness clouding your judgement.

you quickly slip into nikis bakery, looking down at the case of the daily pastry specials, before choosing two of her cinnamon cookies and two of her pain au chocolat. they're both yours and wil's favorite, and while you'd adore sharing, wilbur is often possessive with his sweets. so it's best to get two of each.

you smile to yourself as Niki packages each pastry and she giggles at your happy demeanor.

"feeling extra peppy today, huh?" she smiles, ringing up the pastries and asking for payment. you pay quickly while nodding, smiling so wide and happy.

"yeah, I finally got Wilbur to agree to come to bed early. so I have plans for a bit of a date night. i just hope he sticks to his promises," you grin, taking the pastries gratefully into your hands.

"he sticks to his promises, when it comes to you. I have a good feeling," she nods as she speaks, a few moments later you both bid your farewells to one another; fully knowing you'll be back for a bread order on Sunday.

you took the long walk home, wanting to take in more of the nature around you, and to give wil some extra time to work. you knew he'd go over what he promised, but you hoped he'd pay his promise due.

plus, the scenic route was always more enjoyable. so the longer way will do, the flower fields grazing your ankles. the sun setting gently, casting a golden hue across the land, the soft shadows of buildings and trees painted on the grass. it was beautiful, almost like you were walking through a painting.

you finally made it home, opening the door and shutting it behind you. not noticing wil's work boots being gone from their spot on the rack. you giggled as you held the pastries in your hand, calling out for Wilbur.

"Wil? my love! i have sweets from Niki!" you hurried up the stairs, peeking into the bedroom before looking over the banister at the downstairs; nothing. you hum, walking over to his office, opening the door to still find anything but him.

you frown, "wilbur?" you call again, turning to walk out before your eyes catch on his desk, the now empty vase held on the desk without a flower in sight.

you looked closer, there on his desk laid a note and a rose from the bouquet you put there the same morning. you opened the note after a moments hesitation and you skimmed the words, eyes widening and tears falling as the message set in your mind.

'my darling,

you'll always be my baby.

yet, there's more for me, just not here.

- yours, wilbur.'

you dropped the pastries, and then the letter, slumping into his desk before shuffling through every single drawer and pile of papers. tears cascading down your cheeks.

"no, no, no, no-" you try desperately to convince yourself or a cruel joke, searching for more answers somewhere in his desk. it must be here, mustn't it? he was always one for dramatics so surely there's another secret note.

you spend the next hour tearing through his desk, tearing apart his office before you admit defeat. laying your head on his desk and letting yourself crack, you let it all out. tears and sobs and cries and screams bounce against the bookshelves that line the walls of his office.

there's a knock at the door, and after a moment of contemplation, you dazedly take the stairs down to the foyer, opening the door and being greeted by Phil. by Wil's father.

"Phil?" you start, ready to ask if he's here to tell you where wil is, that it's some sick joke he'll apologize for and never pull again-

"you know, don't you?" he pauses, avoiding your gaze, "we found his body, he left this for you."

he hands you an envelope and you take it, nodding to him as he speaks soft words of condolences and a goodbye. you shut the door, letting yourself fall against it as you stare at the folded envelope, wondering if it's worth the trouble to open.

what more could he possibly say?

but also, what more could it hurt?

you open it gingerly, sighing softly as you sniffle, wiping your eyes gently.

as you unfold the letter, out comes a wedding band, tied by string to another ring.

the ring you told him you wanted as your wedding band.

it clatters to the floor and you break again, letting out loud, pained sobs as you cry and shake on the floor, eyes unable to peel themselves from the rings that now lay on the hardwood below.

the note falls beside the metal rings, a simple phrase scratched into the parchment; 'in another life, my baby'

you want to burn it, to scream and curse the universe.

but then you wonder how much trouble it'd be to join him.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos

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bluewonderer · 6 months

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Status: Complete Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters/Pairings: Dazai Osamu, Nakajima Atsushi; Dazai/Atsushi Tags: Alternate First Meeting; Atsushi doesn't meet Dazai at the river; Meet-Cute with Crime and Shenanigans; Dazai-Typical Suicide Attempts/Discussion; Fluff with a touch of angst; Human Disaster Dazai Osamu; Nakajima Atsushi Needs a Hug; Happy Ending Summary:

Dazai finds an angel dressed in a Sailor Venus outfit on a high-rise rooftop in Yokohama. “You’re beautiful,” he says to the boy lying face-up in a thick bed of snow. The freezing night air has leeched color from his skin except for the strawberry-red splotching the underside of his exposed limbs and the purple-blue staining his fingertips. “Would you do me the honor of committing suicide with me?” Spectacular heterochromia saturates Dazai’s world, and all he can think is, burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars. His angel with firework eyes shrugs thin shoulders, all bone white and blue like a bruised moon, and wearily sighs, “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Dazai and Atsushi meet, dance, rob a department store, and jump off the bridge together. Not necessarily in that order.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #dazatsu #dazai x atsushi #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #bsd fanfic #blue writes

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covetedbrother · 6 months

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most days i’m like “yeah i’m pretty over my ‘sam is me i’m him we are the same and he’s also my bbg my son and my dad’ phase” and then i see one (1) bad take about him and i genuinely get murderous and i’m like “ah. nevermind”

what the fuck has he ever done????

(insane samgirl ramblings under the cut bc i’m losing my fucking mind)

if you’re mad at sam for starting the apocalypse: you’re telling me that if you were dealing with the effects of dying, watching your brother die, addiction, and actively being manipulated by your DEALER and also genuinely operating under the belief that that killing a demon would be a good thing, that you wouldn’t have killed that demon?

this bothers me especially bc sam broke seal 66. because he thought it would prevent the apocalypse. dean broke the first seal. because he tortured ppl in hell!!!!!

leaving for college: imagine getting mad at an 18 year old for leaving to go to stanford on a full ride scholarship. he did that in a “household” where he never lived in the same place for more than 6 months. ever. and his only family members thought it was emasculating to do well in school.

“choosing ruby over dean”: hey. hey. look at me. imagine the person you love most in the world. that you have a toxic codependent relationship with to the point of literally getting murderous if you are separated by more than a room without your choice. you’ve known each other for forever. you’ve killed for him. he’s your brother. you have spent a full year trying to figure out how to save his life. now imagine watching him die knowing he did it to save you. and you can’t get him back. now you are actively suicidal and someone comes along and acts almost just like him and offers you this thing that gives you the power to kill the things that killed him. this person says that you have the power to stop a horrible thing from happening. you believe her. and then your brother comes back from the dead and he’s. different. he doesn’t trust you anymore. and the person who gave you power tells you that it’s because he’s being lied to and manipulated to start the tragedy you are bent on preventing. so you’re hurt and scared and trying to save the world so, just this once, you choose to work with someone other than him.

the shit that happened in s8: again. same scenario as above but now you’ve both killed and died for each other multiple times. you’ve endured over centuries of torture by the devil himself and have just started recovering from the hallucinations that you had of the literal devil torturing you and telling you that you can never feel happy bc this is just another way of torturing you. making you feel happy for a moment only to bring you back and hurt you. then your brother disappears into a pile of black goo in front of you. you have no idea how or why. you do months of research and come up with exactly nothing. life without him isn’t worth living. you’re about to drive your car off a bridge. the car you grew up with him in, the one you both engraved your initials into when you were 8 and 10. with the legos shoved into the vents that you’ve never been able to take out. you’re not paying attention so you hit a dog. shit. he doesn’t deserve to die. not like you. you take him to the vet. his medical bills need to be covered by someone. it can only be you. the vet there treats you like you deserve to live, to be loved. you fall for her. you move in together and adopt the dog you hit. maybe,,,, just maybe,,, you can be happy.

and then your brother comes back. and he’s best friends with a vampire… the vampire’s name sounds like yours.

and your brother is mad at you. then your girlfriend discovers the husband she thought was dead is alive. your brother wanted you to break up with her anyways. you’d do anything for him. always. he doesn’t forgive you. it’s what you deserve.

you take on the trials of hell to try and do something right. it’s actively killing you. every day you wake up and cough lungfuls of blood into the sink. it’s fine. these trials will probably kill you, but it’ll be ok. you’re finally doing something right. the final trial requires you to confess your greatest sins in a church. you spend hours there, and the biggest sin you confess is disobeying your brother. you confess the times you’ve let him down. you’re clean now. you’re ready to die, ready to stop any demon from ever coming to earth again. and your brother calls you an idiot and stops you because he doesn’t want to watch you die. but by now, your body is going to die with or without completing the trials. your brother coerces you into being possessed without your knowledge for a year in order to keep you alive. the thing possessing you kills your friend. your brother blames you for it. it’s fine. he cares. you know he does. he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t care.

it never. ends. THERE ARE FIFTEEN FUCKING SEASONS OF THIS SHIT

ARE YOU MAD AT HIM FOR TRYING TO GET DEAN TO NOT BE AN ALCOHOLIC? TO EAT BETTER?

MAYBE YOU’RE MAD AT HIM FOR THINKING THAT THE PERSON WHO MADE FUN OF YOU FOR DOING WELL IN SCHOOL WOULDNT KNOW WHO VONNEGUT IS?

FOR NOT FALLING TO HIS KNEES AND WORSHIPPING DEAN EVERY TIME HE ENTERS THE ROOM?

are you mad at him for forgiving his father?

maybe you’re mad because dean had bad things happen to him that didn’t happen to sam.

are you mad at the man who got into stanford on a full ride scholarship and was about to get into law school before he dropped out for thinking of himself as smart?

i think they’re mad at him bc he’s not a perfect brother who gives into dean’s codependent tendencies 100% of the time. dean has a codependent personality, and sam has a rebellious streak of independence a mile wide. his rebellion just looked like choosing school over hunting, or studying over weapon training, or reading over sparring. not that he didn’t also do those things, he just also did other things.

#meta #gencest #sam girl #sam winchester #dean crit

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damagedintellect · 1 year

Text

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

💌 Would this be considered a social suicide? : Chapter 1 💌

Summary: You knew it was dangerous to take walks at night but hearing the water rushing under the bridge was calming to your nerves. You didn’t imagine you’d ever fall into the river and somehow wake up in your favorite anime. The isekai that I’m sure will come back to haunt me. It’s kept me up all night but I might as well get the brainrot out.

Notes: Reader is Isekai’d into BSD, Slow to start, Chuuya is endgame but there’s a fair bit of reader & Dazai moments too

💌 Word count: 2,348 💌 Available Chapters [You are here] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

You stood over the bridge looking out at the sunset. You would have to return home before it got too dark but the tranquil sound of the rushing water underneath you always calms your nerves after an episode. Things have been pretty rough lately but you’d live. As a writer you were your worst critic. You were almost done with your first big manuscript and you just needed to get past the final hurdle before you could start seeking out publishing companies. At the beginning your novel came easy but as the ending chapters were approaching you started to dread finishing it. The unknown future was a scary thought. Multiple what if’s flooding your mind. The fear that you would have wasted the better of a year and a half writing a story for no actual gain was one of them. It shouldn’t be considered wasted time because writing it helped you in many ways but the ever looming thought that you could have accomplished much more in the same amount of time is a burden that will never leave you alone. If only things could be as easy as the media you consumed. Your recent obsession with a certain anime series wasn’t helping either but it’s captivated your heart and it’s all you think about nowadays. Which is what spurred on the little tiff with your writing. All you’ve done recently is play the Bungo Stray Dogs mobile game trying to pull the rate up Chuuya unit to the point where you were actually no lifing it. While you agree that you might be going overboard just a little, you might actually have formed an addiction to playing marbles. You honestly preferred when you were analyzing and fantasizing about the contrast of the strong bonded characters. Not to mention how much you can see yourself in everyone. The amount of character study is comforting to you and one day you wish to write something that makes others feel the way you do when you read BSD. From your perspective this was just research but to the rest of the world haha whoops just your autism is showing. It’s a limiting belief you weren’t sure how to get rid of either. The need to constantly do and be productive with your time otherwise you fail at society when ultimately success is subjective.

Before you could turn around you were harshly grabbed by the arm. You were pushed against the railing as your assailant threatened you to stay quiet. A knife was brandished against your neck but almost foolishly the wrong side was being pressed against you. The man reeked of alcohol so maybe he wasn’t all there right now. Mustering as much rage and aggression you’ve been bottling up for years you think to yourself that this was now or never. If there was one thing you have been thinking about since childhood it was pulling off a Miss Congeniality. Shouldering him in the gut, stepping on his foot, elbow to the face, and finishing it off with a swift kick to the dick. Panic was starting to kick in. You didn’t think that would work but that doesn’t matter right now you should start running. As you were about to bolt he grabbed your leg and your dumbass clutched onto the railing trying to use your bodyweight to break free and it worked due to the thug letting you go but your momentum was already set in motion. You threw yourself over the railing crashing in the icy water below.

—

“Dazai I swear if this was one of your planed double suicides I’m going to kill you!” a voice rang out. You could still feel the sensations of floating your memory murky.

“I assure you if it was, me and this lovely lady would already be dead but unfortunately Atsushi here ruined that miracle for me.”

You choked, you recognized those voices “D-Dazai?” When your vision came too you were in Atsushi’s lap as Kunikida was shaking his partner. This couldn’t be real.

“Ah so sleeping beauty’s awake. Kunikida as a gentleman you should ask her if she’s alright and stop strangling me.”

Reluctantly the blonde did as he was told and let go, kneeling in front of you “Are you alright my colleague said you were floating in the river?” his eyes were full of concern.

You looked dazed, glancing around to see the familiar riverbank that Atsushi starts at during the very beginning of Bungo Stray Dogs. You looked at your hands. You were still wearing the same clothes you put on this morning, admittedly they were much soggier than you remember but you had no memory of the day or how you ended up in the river. For some reason you knew who these people were and what seemingly happens to them in the future. The most notable thing was you were grossly aware of the fact that this universe belonged to your favorite manga that currently was on its 108th chapter? This had to be a dream. If you played along maybe you’d eventually wake up. You’ve had lucid dreams before, it wasn’t too far fetched but the ache in your heart didn’t want you to wake up. Finally you looked up at Kunikida who was patiently waiting for your answer but before you could give a response your stomach growled. How embarrassing, now you really wanted to die.

Dazai keeled over laughing “I guess introductions can wait till we get something to eat, how about that?” He offered you a hand over his partner's shoulder to help you up. You snapped out of your haze to grab his hand and say “I can’t remember much so I think that’s for the best.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

At dinner Atsushi spent no time at all stuffing his face as Kunikida and Dazai bantered back and forth. Dialogue you remembered from when you watched the show originally. You forgot how furious Kunikida was over the whole ordeal and you felt bad knowing what Atsushi was going to say next. He really needed a hug.

“I came to Yokohama straight from the orphanage. I’ve had nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep since. I thought I’d starve to death.”

“You came from an orphanage?” Dazai questioned. He was sitting across from you casually and despite being hungry you noticed that he didn’t order anything to eat. You had ordered one out of solidarity. You’ve always wanted to try tea on rice but never bothered trying to find a place that makes it in your area. Atsushi was already on his twelfth bowl or so as he continued the conversation.

“I was yes but they kicked me out.”

“Sounds like a real philanthropic organization.” Dazai turned his attention from Atsushi to you “How about you? Remember anything now?” He rested his head on the back of his hands.

You nodded “I think my name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (L/N). Still trying to work out where I came from and how I got in the river but it’s something to start.” Being vague was probably for the best right now. Although you would have to find some way into the Armed Detective Agency eventually. After that you could be a little more bold with your knowledge. Without an ability though, it would be by the skin of your teeth and your memory of the events to come. Not everyone in the agency had an ability or combative skills but they had plot armor, you sadly do not. Being caught up with the manga was great for knowing everything to come but you'd have to remember things you've read and watched months ago. There was no room for error as it stood currently. Your life literally depended on it. You wondered if you could pull it off. If you didn't you could always try the port mafia. It would be more risky and twice as dangerous but at least you could hopefully get a glimpse of a certain redhead before you died. Who knows, could be fun.

“Dazai we’re not a couple of do good-ers going around helping hard luck cases. We’ve got a job to do.” Kunikida nudged the other with his book leading Atsushi to question “That reminds me. You said that your current job involves the military. What kind of work do you do.”

“We’re private investigators” Dazai gave his signature smirk bringing his hand up to rest under his chin. What an absolute dork you loved this waste of bandages.

“Investigators?”

“But we handle more than lost pets and cheating spouses. Our office has uniquely gifted investigators, we’re the Armed Detective Agency.”

You sat upright with Atsushi. While he was having his little monologue you softly muttered “The Armed Detective Agency.” trailing off you made your eyes as wide as you could like you were seeing a vision before you shook your head staring back as Atsushi. “Tiger?” you stated in a hushed tone. Hopefully you were acting strange enough for Dazai to notice, it was the only way your plan was going to work out. You needed a reason to be kept around but not to upstage Atsushi's importance. Not like that could really happen since he is the tiger but still. You needed your bases covered without being too off the wall. The harsh bottom line was this was your only chance because you have no idea if your choices affect the story yet. On top of that you have no money, no friends and no shelter so they were your only option.

“You guys are looking for a tiger.” You stated it as a fact, regaining their attention after Dazai’s little health hanging prank.

Kunikida stopped strangling Dazai as the two exchanged looks. “We never said what the job was, it's not supposed to be a secret or anything but how’d you come to that conclusion?” He pushed up his glasses for emphasis.

You tilted your head for effect. “I don’t know it was just a feeling I got when I looked at Atsushi kinda like a weird deja vu.” you played it off quizzically like you were also figuring things out as they progressed.

Atsushi stared across the table “You’re looking for a tiger?” You could feel him tense.

“Yes, a ferocious man eater who's recently appeared in the city. Well not that we know for sure it's devoured anyone but it’s ransacked warehouses, eaten farm animals and caused general chaos. The authorities have received all kinds of scary reports about it” Dazai sighed, slipping back into his uninterested mood. In Atsushi’s panic he knocked over his chair and a couple of bowls as he tried to crawl away. You watched the scene play out as Kunikida pinned him to the floor and the interrogation started. You sat patiently as Atsushi was then asked if he was free to be bait.

“Forget it no way!”

You laughed at Atsushi’s outburst trying to lighten the mood. “I don’t know Atsushi. If it’s after you I feel like this is the perfect opportunity to get it off your back for good. What if I tagged along? Strength in numbers right?” He stood up and defended himself “That doesn’t make it better! I’m not doing this okay. I know what you’re thinking, you’re planning to use me as bait-”

“There’s a reward you know.”

From there Atsushi’s fate was sealed and you all made your way over to the warehouse. You waited around for hours, everyone keeping to themselves. This was something they didn’t show you in anime but you figured time would pass as normal anyhow. You were laying on one of the crates that was across from Atsushi. You had been staring up at the ceiling after staring at Dazai became boring. He was literally reading his book. You saw his eyes move across the page. You really weren't sure what else you expected. As soon as Atsushi opened his mouth you rolled your eyes.

Finally, show time.

It’s not like you’d actually be of any help, you just needed to make sure you didn’t die or get in the way. Hopefully the groundwork you set prior would be enough. If you were in Dazai's shoes and some girl you've never seen before who has amnesia but happens to know the details of your mission, it would be pretty strange. It's not as strong as Atsushi’s but fingers crossed it was enough. When Atsushi started to turn, you stretched and said “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll let Kunikida and the others know.” Dazai only smirked and continued to monologue to Atsushi who would not remember the speech later. You casually strode out of the warehouse seeing the others already surrounding the building, hearing the ruckus inside. You didn’t speak, only waved them in as you made your way back to Dazai seeing that the dust had already settled and Atsushi was already on the ground. After everyone else got to take a jab at him the brunette finally spoke.

“I’ve already made my decision. We’re going to make them one of us.”

You sighed in relief when he gestured to you as well. You didn't want to be presumptuous and assume he meant "them" as in plural when that's not always the case. Regardless, your personal mission was accomplished. It was enough to be lumped in with Atsushi but you weren’t out of the woods yet. It was enough to get you through the night. If you didn’t wake up from this dream you’d still have the entrance exam to worry about. Then the matter of how much you give away about possibly having an ability and next being able to live the lie you’ve crafted. As a writer it shouldn’t be that hard to craft yourself a solid backstory but there was still no proof of your existence outside waking up at the riverside. You’d have to be careful but you were up for the challenge. After all, what have you got to lose?

Chapter 1 | Next Chapter =>

#BSD isekai au no one asked for #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd imagines #chuuya nakahara x reader #don't mind me just playing around with BSD like dolls #xreader #x reader

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wraithdance · 8 days

Text

I need to work on something so here’s a far off snippet for stray dogs for Wip Wednesday

Cw: therapy speak, suicidal ideations, avoidant attachment traits

Dr. Hasan hesitates, “I’d like you to dig into that for me. You just said you feel uncomfortable that Johnny keeps trying. That’s something we can work with. What’s the emotion at the end of that?”

Your nails dig into the fleshy part of your palm. Dr. Hasan shifts in her armchair, openly staring. Waiting.

“Nothing. There is nothing at the end of that.”

You don’t think she tries very hard to cover up her exasperation with you. Her clear disappointment in your lack of answer and the line of questioning is making your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You’re trying not to fidget under her calculating stare but it’s hard not to keep your knee from jerking. She sees it.

“Try again.”

You frown.

“What?”

Dr. Hasan gestures to you with the hand holding her pen and cocks her head. “I said, try again. I don’t buy that you don’t know what’s making you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about to be honest,” you’re hissing through your teeth, “Do you want me to make something up?”

She flicks the fabric of her saree and makes a sound low in her chest that sounds like an exasperated chuff.

The effort it takes not to yell is surprisingly difficult, you can taste blood in your mouth where the fleshy side of your cheek is compressed against the vice of your molars.

You didn’t yell. You didn’t get upset.

She’s pushing something that makes you want to balk. Or worse. But your body is welded into the leather seat by a thin layer of sweat. You don’t have to see yourself reflected in her brown eyes or glasses to know the mask is slipping.

“I’m not your counselor.” She says after several terse seconds. “You’ve made it clear that you have no desire to be my client.”

“I don’t want-”

She interrupts.

“So there’s no need for you to lie to me. We can just sit here until you can answer the question until that,” she points to the analog clock behind her “clock marks it’s time for my badminton match at 5pm or…”

she doesn’t finish the sentence, purposely lets it crash and burn in the air.

“I don’t know and I don’t feel anything more than discomfort.” You press your nails harder into your palm.

“As much as you’d like me to believe you’re a sociopath, you’re not convincing me. Try again.”

“What?”

“Try again-”

you snap.

“I said I don’t fucking KNOW!”

You’re only slightly aware of your upturned chair and the frantic line your legs force you to march in slow jerky movements.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

You’re temporarily deaf over the loud pressure building in your eardrums like rhythmic claps. Dr. Hasan calls your name but it’s muffled.

The crack of Spirit’s neck under your grandfather's weathered hands brings the flood of sound back.

“I don’t know what I feel! I don’t know why he won’t just leave. I just need him to leave and he won’t go!”

You stop pacing when your vision goes black at the edges.

“He’s always fucking there when I turn around. He’s always talking and breathing and touching me just like-”

Your hands shake badly when you press them into your eyes until the blackness dances behind your eyelids. But the dull pain does nothing, there’s something wrong inside of you.

You turn tear soaked eyes to her when she doesn’t answer. “how do I make him stop?”

She doesn’t answer, she’s too calm in her chair, with her bangles and fucking fountain pen in hand. you feel like a wild animal. Your voice hitches and you’re begging.

“How do I make him go?”

“I can't tell you that.” She’s smiling sadly, you think she might actually feel for you.

You’re going to be sick.

She calls for you again softly, just enough to hear her voice over the chasm.

“What happens if he stays?” Dr. Hasan scoots forward into her chair, her hands out like she’s scared you’re going to fall off a bridge and not in her office that smells like anise and cloves.

Like she’s got the strength to catch you if you do.

“What happens if Johnny or Duckie, or even Simon-” she ignores your glare, hands turned out in surrender, “what happens if they stay? That’s the problem right? That they want to stay?”

You don’t answer her. After a minute she chuckles to herself. It’s low and makes your hackles raise.

“Fine, then let me ask you this, who didn’t stay?”

There’s ice in your veins now and it claws up your neck like frostbitten ivy.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who didn’t stay that you’re willing to keep showing up to my office, pretending like you’re not killing yourself?”

You don’t think it surprises either of you when you pick up your bag and leave. It doesn’t stop her from calling out behind your back when you shoulder the door open violently.

“Who is it that won’t let you believe that those people love you and they want you to let them stay?”

You tell her to go fuck herself.

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peskellence · 4 months

Text

Rule Of Nines

Betrayal Pt. 2

Explicit content, Graphic Violence

(18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: AU, Multi-Chapter, Lovers to Enemies, Kidnapping, Crime and Violence, Oral, Anal, Dom/ Sub

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Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a world where loyalty is currency and compromise is weakness, Gavin Reed, a ruthless mobster, lives by his own rules. When an old enemy resurfaces with a deadly demand, his life is thrown into chaos-as his trusted second-in-command, Nines, is put to the ultimate test of allegiance. Will he stay committed to Gavin, or will the loyal guard dog begin to stray? (Human Mob!AU)

Warnings: Major Character Death (before events of the story), Graphic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Dubious Consent

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @ladyj-pl @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel

If you would like to be added to the tag list for future projects, please let me know♡

It took until sundown for Gavin to realise that Nines wasn't coming back. The wait persisted well beyond this, extending into the night. There were no calls, progress checks, or even the slightest indication to suggest the man was still breathing. Just dead air on the radio. Continual, droning vacancy.

His second in command had never done this—would have never dreamed of it before today. Clearly, he had gotten held up wading through the mountainous shit expelled during his recent temper tantrum. No doubt wallowing around like a despondent pig. One that just found out its sibling was being turned into bacon.

Maybe that was where he'd scurried off to. Charging headfirst into DeLuca's hideout on a misguided suicide mission to save his brother. The thought alone would've made Gavin laugh had it not inspired such bitter resentment.

Best of luck with that, dickhead.

Salvatore hardly ran a prestige operation, but he wasn't stupid. He and his boys would be waiting for them, armed to the fucking teeth. As soon as they realised Connor's 'saviour' had arrived empty-handed, it'd be open season in the abattoir.

Nines was good, but he wasn't made of kevlar and steel. When a man came faced with a hail of bullets, the bullets were going to win. No matter his physical prowess, he'd be hosting his family reunion six feet under the ground.

Gavin cursed under his breath, his head lolling against the pillows as his eyes squeezed shut. The sweat beading on his brow started to trickle lower, charting a course down the bridge of his nose.

Instead of bottling his frustration, he attempted to refocus its energy into current licentious activities. The movements of his hand quickened as he brusquely dismissed concerns of doubt or culpability.

If Nines was taking an extended dirt nap, it would be the fault of his own stupidity. A fitting penance for allowing sentiment to cloud his better judgment.

Bleeding hearts had no place in the miserable shit they dealt with. If that lesson had been learned the hard way, so be it. Hopefully, it would serve as a reminder for the next dolt Gavin let slither under his sheets: Do not step out of line unless you're ready to face the consequences.

His mind was bubbling over, hissing like a tea kettle, as he released a barrage of insults at a currently imagined Nines:

You selfish, ungrateful piece of shit.

Entitled, pompous asshole —

He missed him.

The bed felt unbearably empty, as did every attempt to fill the void. His body howled with need, seeking a carnal depravity that no amount of self-indulgence could hope to satisfy.

Maybe he ought to have hired the hooker. At least then, he could have secured the feeling of something . An opportunity to escape through the forgiving darkness of tightly closed eyes, where he could imagine the floundering mass on top of him belonged to someone else…

He plunged deeper into himself, arching back as far as he could in pursuit of greater leverage. It would have still been better than condemning himself to the current arrangement of listlessly gripped hand and equally sad rubber stand-in.

His toes curled from added exertion as he hissed in what he tried to convince himself was some degree of pleasure. If he continued to tell himself that, perhaps the sensation would manifest. The 'fake it til you make it' principle: like it was a goddamn job interview.

The movements continued as he abandoned his hardness in favour of running a hand up the length of his torso. His remaining fist grew increasingly agitated, anger permeating every mite of the increasingly rough pumps.

Bastard. Bastard. Bastard.

There was a knock at the door, ending the ill-fated venture with a sudden jolt of paralysis. Gavin gawked at his ceiling, trying to confirm—somewhat hopefully—if he was hearing things. Then it happened again, prompting him to reach over and study his phone's lock screen.

It informed that the time was 3:07 A.M., leading to the conclusion that this style of intrusion was getting extremely old.

Shooting up, he removed Nines' lacklustre understudy from his body. He craned himself towards the door, boring holes into the surface of the already beaten-up wood, his mouth snarling in an uncanny mimicry of a feral dog:

"What the fuck do you want?"

There was no reply save for a steady—and entirely undeterred—pace of knocks.

You can't be serious.

After tucking his shame securely into the bottom drawer of his nightstand, he ripped away the scant covering of his sheets. Whoever the mystery arrival was, they clearly wanted to play games—ones that the mobster was in no mood to be joining.

Either that or their appearance formed some style of divine intervention. The Big Man upstairs, tenuously apologising for all the recent smites in the form of a squishy sandbag on which to offload his grievances.

Whoever the person was, they were persistent. Refusing to let up on the incessant pounding for even a second despite having aired him just moments prior.

Gavin wrestled with a pair of boxers, attempting to wrangle them over the prominent hardness between his thighs. They were lucky he even did that much—in half a mind to answer the door butt-ass naked, making exposure to his trouser snake part of the karmic retribution.

"Do I need to put opening hours on my goddamn door?" he suggested bitingly, as the fervance of his movements resulted in a small tear of fabric. "It's the middle of the fucking night, what is wrong with you people?"

To their credit, there was likely some underlying motivation behind the visit. Given how desperately the unknown figure sought to grab his attention—and the fact he'd made it clear that 'Connor Torture Porn' didn't constitute an emergency—it was probably something serious.

Assuming Nines hadn't managed to get his brother mulched, they still had a few hours before DeLuca took care of business. That being said, it wouldn't have surprised him if Connor had decided to croak ahead of schedule.

The man had been in bad shape during his last on-screen appearance, barely clinging to whatever life was left to live after being gutted and carved worse than a grade-schoolers jack-o'-lantern.

Honestly, news of his untimely death was probably the only thing that could temper his current foul mood…

Swinging the door open, he prepared to lambast whatever slack-jawed goon was bumbling around behind it. Upon seeing who it was, his mouth went dry, and his snarled lips clamped shut.

"I'm sorry, Gavin, I know it's late." The words lingered on their tongue, chasing each delicate curl of the muscle. "I hope I didn't wake you."

…Well. Except for maybe that.

Nines stood in the archway, arm extended above his head, propped against the lip. He loomed over Gavin, simpering gently and exuding a stunning degree of confidence for someone who had just played hooky for the past fourteen hours.

Unfortunately, his current appearance made it extremely difficult for Gavin to stay pissed off. Nines had ditched much of the zombie chic he'd adopted over the week, taming the hair that had been clinging listlessly to his scalp. It was now washed and combed, pulled into its usual slicked-back style. The unsightly stubble that had started to bloom across his jaw had also been trimmed, made more apparent as he jutted it forward.

The movement was undoubtedly calculated as it rumpled the collar of his loosely draped trench coat. Sleek leather caught conspicuously against the lights above, encouraging his gaze to trail lower…

Oh, I see how it is. Sneaky son of a bitch.

While the garment wasn't short, on the lofty man filling the doorway, it might as well have been lingerie. The hem barely covered his thighs, revealing svelte lengths of smooth, marble-white. The tenuously secured belt slackened with every twitch, causing the material to part and reveal a growing sliver of torso.

If the legs weren't already a tip-off, this seemed to prove irrefutably that Nines wasn't wearing a lot underneath the jacket. If he was wearing anything at all.

The notion alone sent Gavin's mind into a pronounced tailspin—and while he was aware his second-in-command was still speaking, it might as well have been French. Words were leaving his mouth, but absolutely none of them were being processed.

He attempted to downplay his interest with an inward press of his thighs as he strategically tilted his body towards an adjacent wall.

"Look who's decided to drag themselves outta the gutter…" He feigned indifference with a click of his tongue; all the while, his arousal twitched insistently between his legs. "Where the hell have you been, jackass?"

Whatever conversational threads had led Nines to this question remained a mystery. In any case, his response was flawless—smooth and candid, deftly withholding any sentiment:

"Wrapping up affairs at the docks. It took longer than anticipated; I had to take care of a few witnesses."

This was a lie.

All other men who had attended to the incident returned hours ago, ensuring any and all 'annoyances' were dealt with briskly. Despite this, the questionable statement almost demanded belief, in line with every stoic recount the man had ever delivered…

Whether it was genuinely convincing, or his ungodly degree of horniness was warping his judgment, Gavin wasn't sure. All he knew was that his libido was screaming for him to let it go. To tug Nines by the crotch across the threshold so he could stop spewing mundane excuses and start pounding him into the mattress.

But he couldn't do that—because he was angry—and trying to make a point of not rewarding bad behaviour. Folding his arms across his chest, he maintained his outward scepticism despite all internal protest.

Just when he thought Nines might have the balls to proceed with his current deception, the focus shifted to the elephant doing handstands in the back of the room.

"...I needed some time to think." The playful expression faltered in line with his stiffening posture. He glanced over Gavin's shoulder, eyes fixed on the bed. "If you could let me in, we can discuss things more privately."

As he leaned in, a smooth brush of skin came tantalisingly close to the shorter man's cheek. Cologne trailed the deft movements, igniting his senses, as a chin gently skimmed his shoulder. The touch was featherlight, and it could have easily been missed if Gavin hadn't been so keenly aware of everything Nines was doing.

His ulterior motive was painfully brazen; it might as well have been illuminated on a neon sign above his head. Such an abrupt and shameless shift back to their usual routine, it was fucking hysterical.

Because what did Nines know about privacy? He clearly wasn't opposed to attracting some attention, given his current attire. He would've had to pass through the meeting room like that, no doubt crossing paths with several lingering night owls.

Perhaps he'd wanted to get a rise. To imagine at least one of their cohorts had gotten desperate enough where they might be amenable to the idea of bending him over the card table—

Gavin's mind began to run wild, chasing all manner of depravity his twisted imagination could conjure. He forced himself to rein it in, swallowing back the dense lump forming in his throat.

He then clicked his tongue in feigned indifference, his crossed arms locking tighter over his chest. Unable to help himself, or perhaps out of habit, he made a point of flexing forward—puffing his chest and calling attention to the toned definition of his limbs.

"What exactly do you wanna 'discuss'? You're being awfully vague right now."

Nines' attention flitted downward, a quirked eyebrow the only crack in his otherwise stony veneer. He gave nothing else away, his response measured and enigmatic.

"I took some time to remind myself what is important, to determine where my loyalties lie..." His gaze returned to Gavin's face as piercing eyes studied his features. A rogue spark ignited beneath them, completely indecipherable. "Now that I have done this, I think it is time to make amends."

His leg shifted, and the coat followed suit—coming dangerously close to revealing the junction between his thighs. If it were a robe, Gavin was confident Nines would be twirling the tie in circles, teasing him further.

He was showing off, so sure in his conceit that he could play his boss like an upright bass.

This assumption was correct, obviously, but that didn't stop Gavin from being incensed with the mutinous bastard he called his dick. Fearing it might spring off without immediate attention, he obliged the request through gritted teeth.

"Get in."

As Nines entered the room, it became apparent that 'talking' had factored little into plans for their exchange. His subordinate slammed the door behind him before skillfully switching their positions and pinning Gavin against it.

The handle pressed into the small of his back, as he was all but moulded onto it. He couldn't give less of a shit—feeling utterly giddy, mind reeling, as it ignited with vibrant bursts of excitement.

Then Nines kissed him—biting, wrenching, capturing flesh between his teeth and mercilessly pulling back. Gavin could taste the warm copper pooling in his mouth, and it may as well have been syrup because nothing had ever tasted so sweet in his entire fucking life.

As a streak dribbled down his chin, he roughly shoved Nines away. Passion tempering long enough to recall what had brought them to their current frenzied encounter.

"You're going to have to put in some serious fucking effort if you expect me to forgive you." Crimson specks propelled from his lips as he wiped them with the back of his hand. "Don't think you can shove your tongue down my throat and expect bygones to be bygones."

"Of course not," Nines hummed. His lust-filled voice was irresistibly rich, purred like auditory velvet against his pulsing neck. "I have every intention of showing you just how sorry I am…"

Gavin was lost immediately. His bravado deflated as he slumped against the other man's hold, hopelessly ensnared. A rush of endorphins prickled his skin, in line with the indulgent nips being dotted across it.

The raging pulse in his boxers grew even more apparent, straining the material in a way that proved impossible to ignore. It pressed against Nines' leg, and he rutted forward shamelessly, desperate for friction.

He wasn't left neglected for long. As his subordinate continued to tease his neck, he reached a hand into his boxers—brushing the concealed length with the same fluid motions. He traced it with the tips of his fingers before applying more targeted pressure, forcing it down with the heel of his palm.

"How about I start with taking care of this?"

Gavin winced under the touch, resisting the sharp yelp pressing at his lips. His companion took this as a challenge. Stopping shy of using fingers to prise them open, he opted to coax the cry with steadily increased weight.

Pain stormed sensitive nerves, testing the bounds of his tolerance, as Gavin's hands balled into fists. They secured themselves into his jacket, clawing at the material in a frenzied attempt to strip it away.

He wanted to feel Nines—all of him—and was becoming increasingly agitated by the barrier preventing this.

The rigid flesh of his arousal continued to be forced back until it rested flush against his pelvis. Anguish had started to wind him, making it difficult to hold himself upright.

"The hell are you doing?" Gavin growled in protest as his physical resistance started to wane. He then doubled over, drenched in sweat and panting madly as though he'd just completed a marathon. "Touch me, you sadistic asshole."

"I believe you'll find I already am," Nines rebuked, emphasising the point in line with the pitiless force of his hand. "If you stop squirming, I'll gladly give you precisely what you want."

"I'm only squirming because you keep—"

The sentence was aborted as Nines' fingers contributed to the evolving barbarity. Nails brushed the underside of his arm before digging into it, creating a series of harsh grooves.

Gavin was unable to hold back the screams he had been fighting so hard to suppress. As much as he enjoyed the rough play, even he had his limits—and feeling like his dick was caught between a blender and a hydraulic press was cutting it pretty fine. Before he could protest, however, a stern voice interjected:

"Don't tell me what you do," it stipulated, more warning than suggestion. "Not when we're like this. Isn't that the arrangement?"

Gavin's mouth flapped open, desperate to argue, until he found himself unable to form anything coherent.

Well. You've got me there.

This was extremely annoying, given the satisfaction Nines seemed to garner from the implicit confirmation. The current power shift was being indulged a little too profoundly, beyond the expectations of their usual salacious roleplay.

He wasn't left to dwell on this long, as without warning, the oppressive force of Nines' palm relinquished. It was replaced by a gentler hold as neatly wound fingers enclosed his tortured flesh.

Relief washed over him, overwhelming and immediate, as the small bursts of light that peppered his vision burst into flames. He flung his head back, groaning deeply, as Nines moved his hand in well-practiced motions.

There had been no lie in his promise to deliver. The strokes came with sinful finesse—applied with flawless strength and precision, adjusting to his responses as though Nines had a direct line to his brain.

It was delicious in its familiarity. Exactly how Gavin wanted it, the way it was supposed to be.

Any bout of insanity that had gripped his subordinate was coming to an end, assuring him it would not inhibit the enjoyment they were about to share. Nines had remembered who he was—and what they were together.

At some point, his boxers had been removed, left abandoned at his feet. With unfettered access, a thumb was flicked across his tip, tracing the slit in a languid stripe. The effect was addicting, a greater high than any drug he'd ever experienced. He wanted more, pleaded for it, as he fisted a hand into the back of Nines' hair, using it to anchor himself.

After a few more teasing trails, Nines re-established his grip. His hand moved in measured pumps, gradually increasing the pace. Gavin whined helplessly, bucking forward in a feverish attempt to maximise the friction.

He chased the movement with his hips as his desire grew progressively brazen. Culminating with meticulously styled strands wound around his fingers, tugged back in line with a moan—

The motions stopped as the delicious winch gripping him was unceremoniously removed. Before he had a chance to question this, he was shoved away, striking the door with a dull thud.

"Get on the bed," Nines ordered, as darkened eyes trained his superior with predatory focus. If the look wasn't enough, he clarified the gravity of his demand with a curt: "Now."

Gavin shuddered, less from the tone and more from the sudden loss of heat. An unpleasant chill nipped at his arousal, but rather than bemoan the shitty insulation in his room, he decided the more constructive approach was to do as instructed. Which he did without any concern for pride or shame.

Twisting around, he stumbled back on quivering legs until his calves struck the edge of the bed. He promptly collapsed against it, allowing himself to become engulfed in a tangled mass of sheets.

He'd barely had a chance to settle before Nines made his advance. Discarding his coat with a decisive shrug, he positioned himself at Gavin's dangling legs before firmly wrenching them apart.

Fuck yes.

Nines then slid between the opening, sinking to his knees—maintaining a distinct air of control despite the submissive position. Grabbing the other man's quads, he manoeuvred them over his head before planting them securely on his shoulders. His grip lingered, digging into the skin with possessive fervour as his head began to lower.

The heat returned as a tongue swept across the bottom of his swollen length. Gavin attempted to crane himself forward in order to secure a better view of the beguiling show unfolding in front of him.

And damn, what a show it was. Nines repeated the movement, lapping his cock in gliding stripes. His mouth was agape, revealing an expanse of velvety pink walls. Trails of moisture coated his companion's skin, brushing at charged nerves which tingled appreciatively.

All the while, he stared at him. Grey eyes bore intensely, refusing to relent for even a second.

They fit perfectly with his face, complementing the rest of his sharp features to a near-inhuman degree of perfection. His defined cheeks hollowed further as he captured the swollen tip, suckling firmly.

"Oh my fucking god ." The mobster struggled to string together anything more coherent as the cavern of warmth lowered, claiming him greedily. Nines moved slowly, inch by inch, until the erection struck the back of his throat.

Gavin was in ecstasy, washed away by a rising tide of pleasure. He rode it greedily until the resulting delirium knocked him back, unable to stay upright. Nines set an excruciating rhythm, pulling away almost completely before thrusting back down with a subtle gag. His tongue swirled around the hardness, exploring every pore, combined with a gentle graze of teeth.

The sensation was indescribable, making Gavin realise just how deluded he'd been to think he could find even a modicum of the same pleasure with anyone else—'seasoned professional' or not.

If a night with a hooker was a cheap motel, being with Nines was like a trip to the Ritz. Opulence that couldn't be replicated, providing the exact level of attentive worship his body craved.

"Yes—that's it," he praised keenly. His eyes balled shut as he dared once again to run digits amorously through silky brown locks. Hips bucked forward, goading desperately, as he sought an increased pace.

To his surprise, Nines permitted this, relinquishing some of his circumstantial control so he may seek to satisfy his needs. There was no delay in doing this as Gavin made full use of his mouth. Assaulting it with spearing thrusts, pounding against the spongy foundation with reckless abandon.

His companion spluttered around the intrusion, struggling for air. This failed to deter his efforts. If anything, it spurred him on. He arched upward, plunging deeper, as he riveted their head in place.

Pressure built in his gut as his arousal twitched and swelled, signalling imminent release. No consideration was made to warn Nines—and with a final, quivering buck, his passion spilt over. Filling his mouth in thick ribbons, until the excess started to dribble from the corners of his mouth.

"Goddamn..." Gavin sighed, teasing out a final, shallow thrust before his length began to soften. He flung an arm to the crease of his brow, wiping at a dense film of perspiration as he struggled to catch his breath. "Better late than never, I guess."

Nines hummed distantly, ignoring the jab as he pulled himself upright. He then flicked a thumb across his lips, removing the salty traces. "Are you feeling satisfied?"

The man knew damn well that he wasn't. He never was after a single round, two or three being their established minimum. Still, his companion never missed a chance to tease him over his salacious insatiability.

There wasn't a chance he'd be letting Nines dip before the main event, under any circumstances.

"Hell no." He scoffed, somewhat amenable to the playfulness but maintaining an distinct undercurrent of demand. "If that's all you're planning on giving me, I'm going to fucking riot."

His companion nodded, expression unshifting in a way that might suggest to a less seasoned lover that he simply wasn't interested. There was, however, a distinct glint of intent mingled in his hardened gaze, betraying his intentions.

He wasn't done, either. Not by any stretch.

Splayed palms planted firmly to either side of the mattress. Nines soon accompanied them, inching himself across the sheets until he had formed an animate cage around Gavin. The steady rise and fall of his chest synced with the fanning of blanketing breath, boasting unshakeable dominance.

"I thought you might say that."

One of the hands steadily lifted, running across the entrapped man's face. It trailed the fleshy canvas, assessing stubble and dotted scars before drawing back to strike them, painting a vivid streak of red.

"Move yourself up," he demanded, with all the composure of someone well-seasoned in using violence as an incentive. "Towards the wall."

It didn't take an expert to see where things were heading, and Gavin was no less than ecstatic. He dutifully complied, sidling up the length of the bed until he was just below the headboard.

"Lift your arms."

Anticipation gripped him in dreamlike delirium as his spent arousal twitched, excitement renewing. Nines had not joined him yet, reaching beneath the bed in order to grab something.

He had a pretty good idea what, and it only caused the excitement to mount.

There had always been too many 'supplies' to fit in the nightstand alone, with this now relegated to solo enjoyment—but in the time they'd been doing this, the collection had grown substantially, amassed in several containers.

This one was his personal favourite. A small leather box secured with a clasp, which Nines clicked open with a neat flick. The sound met his ears at blissful resonance, and it was a struggle to keep his arms up as the muscles began to quiver restlessly.

Then Nines pulled out the rope, wrapped together in tightly bound coils. He started to unwind it until a section was held between his hands. It was flexed testingly before being pulled taut, the fibres straining audibly, creaking under his powerful hold. Gavin felt his mouth go dry.

"Don't move."

This command was completely redundant. There wasn't a chance of him going anywhere. Not in a million years.

As he was strung to the bed, wrists bound by braided cord, Nines handled him with practised precision. Each stroke of his palm and brush of his fingertips was carefully planned, designed to elicit a response. The act of tying him up alone felt better than half of the ill-fated fumbles he'd had in his twenties.

Hardly aggressive competition, nor was it particularly surprising.

No one else knew his body like this, had ever bothered to learn—or even put in the effort to try. There was only Nines, with no other comparison that could possibly be drawn.

If he were being honest with himself, the depth of the other man's feelings had been obvious for quite some time—but Gavin had always overlooked it, adopting a philosophy of selective blindness.

Because he didn't want to confront that, to risk ruining all of this. It was the closest to Heaven he'd ever get, and he didn't want it to end…

Oh shit.

I missed him.

"You're being so good for me," Nines praised, promptly derailing his bleak introspection. "So obedient—"

The crisis was forgotten, as the ends of the rope were hooked through a rickety metal grate before being pulled back. He made it look incredibly easy, still finding time to tease his companion throughout the process. He secured both arms, followed by legs, as he rushed his body with a series of suckles, kisses and bites—all he could think of to get a rise.

"Now, continue to behave yourself and keep still." He returned attention to Gavin's face, positioning himself at the crook of his neck as he nibbled at his ear. "I don't want you wriggling away, not with what I intend to do to you."

The promise was drizzled decadently, passing the shell and running in streams down the sensitive canal. It clogged his senses, deafening him to anything else.

Gavin arched back as far as his restraints would reasonably permit, groaning shamelessly as he did so. "Do it quicker, you asshole," he snapped, levelling the man with an accusatory glare. "Whatever you want, I don't give a shit."

Nines pulled back momentarily, regarding him with a bemused expression. His eyebrows were raised as he huffed gently through twitching lips.

Then, without warning, a hand was brought across his face again. It moved harder this time, the resultant imprint burrowing into him like white-hot needles.

Gavin howled before the noise was forcefully halted. His cheeks were captured in the grip of the unforgiving hand, its thumb and fingers closing in until his lips were crushed together.

"Just remember, this is what you asked for." The twitch on Nines' mouth persisted until the corner curled upward, forming a subtle smirk. "It is going to be an extremely gratifying experience; I guarantee it."

He slipped away, ending the degradation as unceremoniously as it had begun. Dipping back into the box, he rummaged through its contents until he secured a small, silken scarf. He held it up to the light as though to show it off before the glow was quickly extinguished.

The cloth was wrapped around Gavin's eyes and secured in a tight bow. There was no care to ensure comfort; the knot anchored against his hair, catching several strands. Nines pressed down on his face to secure his leverage, pinching lids and ripping lashes in the process.

"Tell me, do you still want this?"

It wasn't really a question. Before Gavin could even think of responding, hands were running in parallel lines down his chest. They traversed lower, passing his abdomen until they nestled on the protruding bones of his pelvis. The man traced them in enticing circles but refused to fan inwards—much to his dismay.

He more than wanted it. He needed it, with every inch of his being crying out in primal desire.

Despite this, he was powerless to speak, the words snatched from his increasingly barren throat. He instead settled for a whine; lips parted desperately. A parched man pleading for water.

Nines seemed to accept this as an answer. In spite of his blindness, Gavin knew he was watching closely—evident by the continuous beat of puffs assaulting his face.

"Remember what I said. Keep still. If you don't, I may be forced to do something drastic."

The weight of his domineering presence diminished, coinciding with the release of pressure on the mattress. His subordinate was gone for some time, amplifying the tension to a maddening degree as he struggled to control his increasingly ragged breaths…

The build-up lost its excitement as he grew impatient.

His whines transitioned into frustrated groans, and his body squirmed against the covers, craving the attention being cruelly withheld.

"What the fuck is the holdup?" he eventually complained, attempting to reposition his pulsing wrists. The dig of the binds no longer felt gratifying, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. "Seriously, how hard can it be to pick something to smack me around with?"

Then he heard it.

The metallic click of a magazine sliding into place, followed shortly by the frigid touch of steel being pressed to his forehead:

"I'm sorry, Gavin, but I don't think I'll be listening to you anymore."

The world paused, holding its breath. A rush of blood flooded his ears, drowning out all other sounds, as his heart hammered against his ribs—ramping to a bruising pace as realisation began to sink in.

Gavin Reed, you fucking idiot.

After all the self-imposed chiding for letting trust go too far, for allowing too much leniency, he'd still let Nines walk him into such an obvious trap.

"... Dirty. Conniving. Double-crossing. Bastard ." The words were spat in embittered fragments, too mangled by rage to boast any structure. "You really are just like your brother, aren't you? I should've known, should have seen it sooner."

"I remain loyal to those who prove deserving." His voice was cold and unyielding, in line with the barrel against his flesh. "You've given me no other choice."

"Bullshit ! " Gavin bellowed, growing increasingly incensed, as molten speckles propelled from his mouth. "You could have chosen me , you son of a bitch! After everything Dad did for you, after everything I've done for you—"

"And I could have had what, exactly?" The other man snapped back. "A lie that continues to be perpetuated? Some fallacy that I matter to you?"

"Oh, boo-hoo , poor little baby." The jeer came with a mocking tremor of his lower lip as he proceeded to wrestle wildly against his restraints. "We already went through this jackass. I never lied; I told you exactly what this was. It's not my fault if you got your wires crossed."

The barrel was pressed harder against his head, forming a deep-set groove. At the same time, the weapon trembled as though the wielder was being trounced by a sudden rush of hesitancy.

Gavin was forced to wait like an old dog being taken out behind the farmhouse. Held in limbo as its owner debated on whether to go through with the act. It was a humiliating, demeaning role, one that he resented deeply.

So he decided to flip the script, leaning further into the muzzle, practically mounting it to his temple. He felt strangely calm as he did so, his adrenaline pumping, providing a steadily increasing numbness. "If you're going to shoot me, then go ahead. What the hell are you waiting for?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating but simultaneously fueling his resolve. He revelled in his renewed control, drawing from it a warped satisfaction before goading his assailant further.

"Seeing as you're jerking around, you may as well take off the blindfold." The suggestion came as a saccharine taunt punctuated by a humourless cackle. "Look me in the eyes while you blow my fucking brains out."

The captive's heart continued to pound, echoing in the hush of the room. His adrenaline was starting to taper, turning to apprehension before creeping into fear. He refused to let this show, as his jaw hardened in bitter defiance, all the while bracing for the worst.

It was too late to go back—and if the worst did happen, at least it would be over quickly. He wouldn't be forced to endure the continued sting of Nines' monumental betrayal.

Then, with a sudden jerk, the blindfold was ripped away. His vision was blurred momentarily as it attempted to re-adjust to the murky light. Once the haze cleared, he was able to see his face.

Grey eyes were glazed with immeasurable pain, focus lost to detached longing. It was as if he were imagining a whole other life, separate from the bleak fate assigned to them. A future that would never exist, breaking apart and crashing around him in striking detail.

Tears started to roll down his cheeks as his stricken face crumpled with anguish. His breath hitched, and with a laboured shudder, Nines lowered the pistol.

Gavin watched as he wept, grappling with the undoubtedly boundless weight of his lost pride and shattered yearning…

Until laughter rumbled in his chest—before bursting from his lips, loud and unrepressed. It was partly out of relief but mostly borne of spite, as he barked in the traitor's defeated face.

Struck by a sense of marked vindication, he gleefully twisted a knife into the mangled remains of his spirit:

"I knew you couldn't do it. You might act like tough shit, Nolan, but deep down, you're weak . Guess you can't help that, though—it runs in your blood."

The defamation seemed enough to snap Nines from his despaired stupor, renewing his anger tenfold. His eyes bulged wide, flooded by loathing, as any tenderness he may have held for the man as part of his fantasies promptly disintegrated. It was replaced with something decidedly sinister—as he carved the flesh from his bones with the serrated edge of his stare.

"You are not worth the energy it would take to end your miserable life."

Then, as quickly as it emerged, the rush of emotion was gone. Rising from the bed, he retrieved the discarded coat from the floor before calmly slipping it on. After securing the belt and levelling the creases in the rumpled material, he smoothly turned away.

Despite how exposed he still remained, there was a pronounced air of indifference about him. A cruel detachment that was undoubtedly dignified, as much as Gavin loathed to admit.

"I don't need to do anything to you." His level tones demonstrated a disquieting lack of humanity as his focus honed on the nearby door. "They'll do it for me."

He cleared his throat, glaring at the weathered panel with silent demand until it steadily creaked open. Shadows shifted in the hallway, lining in wait before the rest of the family started to emerge through the threshold. A poisonous atmosphere surrounded them, exacerbated as sights trained on their boss.

With decisive confirmation that his second-in-command was far from the only backstabber in his ranks, Gavin felt his stomach sink—newly replenished confidence dwindling at an alarming rate. He was reminded of his current position and how woefully unequipped he was to defend himself from the pronounced physical onslaught approaching.

Nines showed no sympathy as he coolly stepped around the men, striding for the exit. This was until he reached the doorway, where he lingered longer than necessary. Gripping at the fraught wood, a few of the mindless drones began to look over, presumably awaiting further instruction.

With a sharp squeeze, splinters ripping into the tender rise of his palm, he did just that. Issuing a final command before disappearing from view, not so much as glancing back:

"Keep him alive."

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