#I want to be respectful and claw him up like a scratch post.

[littlestardescendants]

This is ironic for me because like I've been threatened twice now by two Demon kings

Difference is with Leviathan I feel disgusted and abused while with Lucifer I feel scared but also like... Into it because I respect and like him so much-

I can't wait to see more I cherish him!!!

[kentopedia]

i miss when we first met

FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k

SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.

CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned

note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today

You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.

Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.

He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.

But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.

Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.

He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.

Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.

It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.

Since he’d killed Mori.

You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.

“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”

Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”

His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”

Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.

“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.

He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.

“I am lucky.”

Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.

“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”

“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”

Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”

You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”

You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.

“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”

“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”

Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”

“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”

He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.

Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.

You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”

“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”

And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.

It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”

Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.

Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”

You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.

You didn’t see him again before you left.

The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.

Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.

It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.

A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.

You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.

Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.

“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”

You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.

“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”

“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.

“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”

“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”

Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”

“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.

You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.

“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.

A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”

You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.

“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”

You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.

Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.

“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”

You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?

His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”

“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”

You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.

“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”

Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”

“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”

You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.

“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.

Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”

You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.

“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 

Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”

You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.

For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.

“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”

“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”

You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.

“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”

“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”

His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.

Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”

And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”

You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”

“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”

Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”

He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”

Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.

“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”

That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.

“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”

“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”

He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”

His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.

When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.

“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.

His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.

You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.

“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”

Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”

Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.

It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.

“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.

Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”

You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.

Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.

“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”

His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.

Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.

When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.

“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”

You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.

Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.

“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.

He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”

His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.

Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.

And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.

Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.

You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.

The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.

You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.

For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.

But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.

You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.

You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.

Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”

You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what’s happening all of the time.”

Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.

Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.

“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.

You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.

He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”

Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.

He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.

You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.

The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.

As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.

“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”

Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.

Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  

“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.

You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.

Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.

When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.

You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.

Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.

You’d never been able to slip past him.

“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.

“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”

Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 

You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”

You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.

Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.

 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”

“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”

When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.

“Say it.”

You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.

“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.

“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.

“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”

Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”

“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”

You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.

“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”

There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.

“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.

He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.

The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.

“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”

Dazai scowled.

“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.

Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.

As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.

But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.

“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”

“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”

You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.

You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—

“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."

“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”

You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”

“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”

“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."

“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”

Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.

“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”

“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”

“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.

“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”

“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”

You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”

“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”

“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”

“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”

His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.

“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.

He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”

“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.

Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”

“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”

You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.

Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.

“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”

There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.

“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”

Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”

“What—”

“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’

You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.

Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.

Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.

Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.

“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.

“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”

Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.

Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.

Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.

“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”

Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”

Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”

You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.

His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.

“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”

“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.

“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”

You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.

“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”

You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.

“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.

“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.

“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”

His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.

“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”

You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”

Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.

“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.

You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.

Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”

You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.

“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”

“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.

His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.

Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.

You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.

A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”

“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”

You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.

“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 

Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”

You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.

“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”

Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.

Of course you would.

Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.

“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”

“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”

“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”

You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.

There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.

“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”

“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”

“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”

Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.

Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.

“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”

Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”

Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.

“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”

You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.

“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”

Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”

“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”

You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.

“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”

“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”

Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”

You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”

He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”

“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”

Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”

Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”

Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”

Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.

You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.

And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”

You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.

You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.

As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.

“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 

He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”

It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.

“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.

“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”

You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.

It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.

“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  

Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–

“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”

“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”

Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”

You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.

“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”

“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.

Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.

“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.

Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”

There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.

“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.

“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.

The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”

You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.

Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.

Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.

You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.

“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”

You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.

“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.

“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”

Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.

“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.

You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.

“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”

You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”

His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”

You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.

“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”

You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.

“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.

He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”

For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.

You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.

Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”

Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.

It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  

Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.

You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.

The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.

“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”

A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.

The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Can we get Muzan and Kokushibo discussing Muzan's very menacing bratty spoiled, daughter's behavior towards other demons with Muzan defending her every action and seeing nothing wrong with her behavior (while she torment's Douma and Hantengu in the background?)

I think it would be hilarious, thank you for considering my ask<3~

Aaaa! That’s actually really cute in a weird way! I like this idea a lot, thank you, love!

Kibutsuji Muzan- True Angel

“Lord Muzan…” Kokushibo asked softly, sat on his knees in a respectful manner as Muzan turned to his top Upper Moon and frowned slightly, annoyed as he had another duty to finish. What does he want? Muzan raises his hand without so much as a word, as a non-verbal sign that the six-eyed man can speak freely. “Lord Muzan… you need to… talk to the… young Lady” Kokushibo was planning to explain to his rather unforgiving Master about his concerns over his very menacing, spoiled, bratty daughter’s behaviours towards all the other Upper Moons

“What about my daughter, Kokushibo? I dare you to try tell me my daughter isn’t perfect” Muzan barked coldly, the second his servant mentioned his beloved daughter. How dare he think he could try tell him how to parent his daughter! Those harsh words he spat out couldn’t cut down Kokushibo’s confidence as the demon samurai muscled out a response in very little time, he was barely intimidated by his own Master. He needed to get his point across, the Upper Moons are continuously tortured by you, Muzan’s precious daughter

“I’m not… suggesting that… I just… need you to know… about what she… does to us” Muzan titled his head, displeased and annoyed but since he favoured the brother of his worst enemy severely, he was willing to hear him out. But whatever he may say will be such bullshit, he can already tell. “Okay. What is the problem, Kokushibo. Tell me” The blood reds glared, unreasonable traces of anger already rising. To him, anybody merely mentioning his daughter in a negative light is insulting her and he wouldn’t let any breathing being insult his precious love

“Have you seen… how she… treats us?” Muzan’s stroked eyebrow rose in confusion as he shakes his head no, arms crossed over his chest. What could you possibly do to the five demons coursing with his blood, a lone Hashira could not stand a chance against them. “She attacks us constantly…” Kokushibo remarked in his signature low voice, causing Muzan to be thrown back internally. Shock overflowing him, that claim is just ridiculous

“Attacks you? That’s nonsense” Muzan answered firmly and still deep in disbelief, sitting down before Kokushibo after a few seconds of thought, to meet with his hexa-eyes. Kokushibo shakes his head slowly in response without a word, his hands still curled up and laid in his lap, Muzan simply didn’t believe that his perfect princess pulls mischief and causes chaos behind his back. “She does… she treats Hantengu like… a scratching… post and treats Akaza… like a punching bag” As the two built men spoke in a rather passive-aggressive and firm aura

You laughed mischievously under her breath, your blood red eyes glaring hatefully at the whimpering, whining Upper Moon 4 laying on the floor beneath you as you raised your claws up to be seen by him. Hantengu cried out as you swiped at his face with a delighted grunt each time, blood staining your claws. The surrounding Upper Moons all reacted differently to you targeting one of their fellow Moons, most wanted to get away

Gyokko immediately dropped into the safety of his ceramic pot at the mere sight of you, as Akaza flinched in horror at you, shuffling to the edge of the many block-like building’s roof whilst Douma chuckled at you and your mericless attacking on the poor Hantengu, slowly faning his face with his golden fan. None of the Upper Moons knew Kokushibo was trying to convince their Master that his daughter is unnecessarily attacking them, since she can totally get away with doing whatever she wants

“Are you sure she isn’t playing with them? Dokusha has different ways to play, then most kids” Muzan barked in a meaningful, honest response as he didn’t bother to move, completely interested in hearing all his Upper Moon 1’s arguments over you and your supposedly despicable behaviour to anybody, other than him. But he truly couldn’t seen what the problem is, you are harmless. None of the Upper Moons should be cowering at you, this concept sounds like delusion to him

“No… playing isn’t striking until… we bleed…” “It sounds more like you’re all too weak to handle playing with a child who has claws” “Master… She doesn’t play with… us, she hurts us” “What is the problem with her being able to hone her skills? I don’t get the problem, Kokushibo”

As the argument grew up and the voices rose, you leaped at Douma once you were done with the bleeding and pathetically sobbing Hantengu. Snatching his luxurious fan from his hand whilst you pinned him down as he chuckles at you, not even flinching at you stabbing it right though his eye. Your malicious grin spread as you purposefully twisted the impaled item in the Upper Moon 2’s socket, hoping he’d respond in any form. Their torment was your pleasure, but you hissed annoyed when Douma laughed louder and lifted a hand to pat your hair

He isn’t in pain?! How dare he mock you! You always get what you want and you want him to fear you! You hissed outloud, stamping on the fan as you kneed his stomach firmly. The closed fan dug deeper into his skill and spit out more of his disgusting red blood onto the cloor. Hantengu whimpered, shying into the nearby corner as his wounds healed whilst Akaza avoided watching the scene only a few metres besides him, trying his best to not intervene

If he were to try stop you, Muzan would have his head in a instant…

Muzan, on the other end of the gigantic marvellous open arena, didn’t even notice the way you attacked his Upper Moons as he continued to push back on every piece of evidence of your cruel bratty behaviour towards his loyal soldiers, presented by the most trustworthy man he has. Kokushibo didn’t want to give up, believing he had the most chance to convince his Master into trusting his every word he spoke about you. Muzan truly didn’t want to take his top’s remarks and he was tempted to ignore the concerns. Since his precious baby is a angel…

Why would she hurt anybody?

[talesofesther]

under the sunlight

Summary: After 200 years of darkness, Astarion feels the sun on his skin again.

A/N: It's been quite a long while since I've enjoyed a game the way I'm enjoying BG3, a feeling I've missed all too much. And of course, this pretty, charming boy has secured his place in my heart fairly quickly. I love him, he deserves all the warmth and softness in the world. And this is a moment I've been wanting to visualize for a while. So, here's a small drabble about Astarion's first time back in the sunlight.

Requests for Astarion are open, if anyone wants more of him here. <3

Masterlist

The world around him smelled like smoke and burnt flesh, the air stung as it ghosted over his dry lips. Dust and remains of rubble clung to his skin, his body felt heavy and sore all over. Each movement more painful than the last, for seconds that felt like hours.

The pale elf didn't know how it happened, all he knew was that the mind flayer ship he had been trapped in had started to fall, and fall, and fall; until it crashed, and he crashed with it. He also had no idea how he had survived, but he wasn't about to complain.

A deep groan escaped Astarion as he steadily regained consciousness. He kept his eyes clenched shut, a headache pounding his head and making him wince.

He scratched the dirt and grass beneath him, grounding himself. His muscles complained as he slowly started to push himself up, and as he tried opening his eyes, a hiss fell past his lips and he blinked several times. Squinting, he tried to adjust his sight to the bright sunlight.

He stilled. Hand frozen midair as he was about to shake the dust off his hair.

Sunlight.

Moving faster than he probably should, given his state, the vampire crawled backward until his back hit the trunk of a tree. His skin only partially hidden from the warm glow.

He tucked his knees closer to his chest, eyes wide as he watched the soft slivers of sunlight that sneaked between the leaves dance on the tip of his fingers. With a trembling hand, he gingerly curled a finger around one strip of sunlight, as if the light would bend its rules for him to hold it.

Sharp fangs dug into his lower lip, scratching and drawing a drop of his own blood. There was a tightness in his chest, clawing at his throat; whether it was fear or hope he didn't know. Maybe a bit of both.

A soft breeze flew by, carrying away the stench of smoke and bringing a distinct perfume, no doubt from the berry bushes nearby. The skies cleared, welcoming, beckoning him under.

With his palm up, Astarion eyed the stripe of sunlight resting on his hand. The soft glow had a gentle warmth to it, kissing his pale skin ever so tenderly. It was enough to blur his sight, tears brimming on the bottom lid of his eyes.

Could it be?

Wobbling in his stance, feet unsteady, Astarion pushed himself up. He took one, and then two steps forward—resembling a wild cat walking into a cozy home, after sleeping countless nights out in cold streets.

When the warm light of the sun embraced him—without pain, without burning—a quiet whimper fell past his lips, and Astarion closed his eyes. He angled his chin up to the sky, pleading for the sun's attention. For it to kiss his cheeks and dry the drops of blood on his clothes. For it to shine on his silver hair and warm up his cold skin.

He blinked his eyes open, lower lip trembling when his sight was temporarily blinded by the light. He looked around him, to the bright greenery and the blue skies and the mountains far away.

It was so warm. After 200 years of cold nights. He felt so warm.

Tears fell down pale cheeks, glimmering, under the sunlight.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[leggerefiore]

Can I request sfw and nsfw romantic hcs for giovanni?? He gives off sugar daddy vibessss 😩

I'll do NSFW later💕 someone else requested it, too, and I want to keep the posts separated so it's easier for those uninterested in that part to avoid lol

cw: interesting dynamics at play here, fluff

🚀Giovanni General Romance HCs🐈

🟥 The Rocket Boss may allow himself many leisures, but a romantic partner had not been one. The idea of risking something like that seemed like too much of a gamble that he simply did not wish to account for in his goings-on. Few people could even catch his eye in such a meaningful way. Whatever small affair he may have had with his executive had never been done with any intention of actually initiating something more seriously. The child that resulted was simply to be his heir, even if said child seemed to only want to reject the offer. Yet, when some overly defiant trainer was apparently keen to attempt to interfere with his plans. Well, they certainly had his attention whether they wanted it or not.

🟥 You seemed to want to mock him. The small bruise to his ego might as well have been a brutal, bleeding claw mark to him, however. It starts off as some strange game of cat and mouse. The roles could vary between you both, but he truly respected your strength and confidence. Which is how you ended up baited into a nice dinner with Giovanni. Things naturally only built from there… Why keep opposing him – Justice? Perhaps morality? He could provide much better things than that. You seemed more than tempted by the offer, which he simply enjoyed. He was more than happy to have you at his side.

🟥 PDA depends on the situation with him. During a meeting? If he can use it as an intimidation tactic, absolutely? You can sit on his lap while he has an arm wrapped around your waist. You are free to do whatever as long as it does not distract him too much. Giovanni will not be so into it if it is a time he wishes to appear more menacing, though. Basically, just read the room and find out what he is doing first. In the general public, he does like to keep a hand on you in some way. His line of work has made him many enemies, and he would hate to see you pay for it. An arm seems to find its way around your shoulder or a hand grasps at your wrist tightly. Kissing is more limited, though.

🟥 In private, Giovanni still varies quite a bit. There is time he needs to focus on his planning and thoughts. In those moments, he would prefer to be left alone. Yet, the opposite is true. There are times he wants nothing more than to have you close to him. Arms will pull you into his lap as he buries his face in your nape. He finds it strange that your presence alone draws out such positive feelings. He almost finds it addicting. When he returns home, you usually get greeted with a kiss as well. There is something foreign about the domestic sentiment that is thoroughly enjoyable. Sporadically, he seems to scratch at your head like he does his Persian's own. The action is quickly stopped after he realises what he is doing. A chuckle is all you get in response to your question of why.

🟥 Naturally, you are free to do whatever to him, too. In fact, he laps up your affections. It is a bit of an ego trip to him. Every kiss you lay upon his skin and every embrace that you lock him into. The way you cuddle with him in bed… He finds it different from the nuisance that he used to find you as. The feeling of your body close to his is a rare comfort that he almost wishes that he allowed himself sooner. It was so different from the pleasures of the body that he had accustomed himself to.

🟥 Dates are lavish outings that come most often when he has a successful affair in his work. Fancy dinners are preferred alongside outings to certain lounges around Kanto. Though, he would be happy to indulge your wishes, too. As long as it was not directly to a police station, you can drag him to the most garish places in the region. There is a certain preference to stick to cities, yet there are a few times he has enjoyed a nature walk with you. A certain trip to Viridian forest showed a strange side to him when stopped to gaze at a passing Nidoran. He ultimately shook his head and continued on with you, though.

🟥 There is some sort of faux domesticity shared between you both. He is not anywhere near a traditional lover, nor is there any expectation for you to align yourself with any role. Coming home to you is a nice change from the empty home he was more than used to. Being greeted by you after a long day completely breaks the annoyance that would otherwise flood his mind, his feels something prideful when his arms lock around your waist. It also shows up in how you both understand the other's preferences. A nostalgic meal waiting for him at home meshes well with the gift he saw got you while he was out and knew you would enjoy. Though, these moments are exceedingly rare with how busy he can get.

🟥 He does have a jealous streak, surprisingly. As confident and sure of himself he is, his business does not make him an easy man to love. It would be far too simple for him to be gone away for work and return to you in the arms of a much more loving person. Any attempts by others in flirting with you in public gets met with his savage glare and possibly even a very subtle threat. Many around him know better than to try anything like that with you. The longer your relationship with him goes on; however, he cools off from it. There is no need for such behaviour when it is clear that you are not going anywhere.

🟥 Some strange part of him desires for you to meet his son. The logical part of his brain knows that it would not be received well, yet there is some urge to reconnect with the boy and show him that he has made changes to himself. Silver would likely despise you, though. His feelings towards Giovanni were plain to observe. It is mostly a fantasy, he knows.

🟥 A relationship with Giovanni has many ups and downs, mixed with highs and lows. His work will always be his main focus, but it is obvious that he does care for you. He almost treats you like a pet cat at times, though. There are many risks involved with a relationship to a man like him, too, and the looming threat that he may just vanish one day if something goes to awry. But, perhaps, in the situation that he does disappear from his position, he will bring you along with him. It is impossible to tell with him. At least, it is fun while it lasts.

[mageofseven]

The Boys' Opinions on MC's Cat

I'm doing it!!! And the cat in question is specifically my little kitty man Beanie 🥰

Imma write how all of the Boys react to MC bringing him as her emotional support animal (and honest, after the first school year alone, they totally need one)

Who likes him, or loves him, or really really wishes they could kick this cute little asshole out of the house hehe~

So please enjoy reading and leaning about my sweet baby boy through the Boys' eyes~

But first! His history with me:

Beanie was a stray in my neighborhood who always seemed interested in me and my dog. Whenever I'd take Elsa on a walk, Beanie would sometimes follow us and occasionally lay right in front of us on the side walk just to drive my dog crazy (my dog isn't a fan of cats, something we believe is from her own time on the streets, but more on that in her own post!)

Eventually, he started coming up to our house to ask for food so we'd feed him. I even made a small house for him on my front porch to shelter him from the rain.

Eventually, it started to get cold as winter started to come and Beanie would try to sneak into our home.

My grandma, who is allergic to cats, was unsure about letting him inside at first, but as it got colder she couldn't help being okay with the sweet boy coming in "for the winter season only".

Flash forward about 4 years later and this cat is still chilling in the house with us 🥰

Beanie's other names: Beans, Baby Boy, Beanie-baby, Cat!!!! (Whenever he scratches the couch lol), The Vicious Scoundrel Unfit For Society (whenever he brings a poor dead mouse or baby bunny to the front door)

And lastly

Lord Beanards the First hehe 🥰

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

Lucifer:

Oh devil, this man tried for so long to keep cats out of his house.

Cats could not truly be trained the way dogs can so he didn't want the unpredictable creatures in his house.

His brothers are chaotic enough; he didn't need this furry animal adding to it.

However, Diavolo has said this cat must be respected for legal reasons

And in truth...if any person truly needs an 'emotional support' animal (a human realm term he only now discovered), it would be the human that literally died to help his family once.

And so...he reluctantly accepts the arrogant creature into his home.

It's not always so bad; the cat sleeps more than Belphie does after all and that says a lot.

Once awake though, he is such menace.

Scratches at every couch and chair in the house

And whenever Lucifer tries lifting him up to unhook Beanie's claws from the couch, the cat makes a screeching sound more like a child opera star than an actual animal and jumps from his hands.

Despite his frustration with the cat, Beanie never seemed scared of the pride demon...

But made it his mission to see just how much he could get away with this new man.

Lucifer hides in his office more than ever

And even when his door is locked, some how the feline still finds a way inside.

How does he even do that??

(He slipped passed Luce when he stepped out to get coffee. Beanie is a little freaking ninja hehe)

Over all, does not like Beanie and prefers the cat to be outside.

Mammon:

Mammon is desperate for Beanie to like him.

But this dude is too loud for the cat's liking.

Plus, the greed demon has a little difficulty reading the cat's body language

And in result, has gotten bit and scratched many times.

Says he doesn't care about that 'stupid furball'

But in truth, this man's feelings are just hurt

And he keeps trying to get Beanie's approval regardless.

Despite all of this, Mammon is probably the brother most worried about Beanie going outside.

I mean yeah, the Devildom has their own stray cats, but they grew up here; those furballs were more aware of the dangers here and knew where not to wander to for the most part.

But the cat grew up a stray in the Human realm and refused to be confined so even if he tried to keep Beanie in, the sneaky boy still manages to slip out

And he's still okay so that's good at least.

Overall, likes the cat but struggles to bond with him.

Leviathan:

Nononononononono!!!!

Out of the room!! Go!! Shoo!

Beanie is always sneaking into his room and he hates it.

This cat jumps onto the shelves, will look Levi straight in his eyes as he gently paws at the figurines till they slid off the shelf.

And that wasn't even the worst offense!!!!

Beanie would paw at the glass tank, wanting to get to Henry the fish so badly!

Has literally tossed the cat out of his room

Just to sulk directly after, worried that he was too rough with Beanie.

You weren't! It's okay, Levi~

Overall, finds Beanie to be a nuisance, even if he is cute.

Satan:

Worships this cat harder than the Ancient Egyptians did.

Loves Beanie to death and enjoys the chaos he causes.

Probably the brother Beanie bonds with the most.

This man will literally put his book down or get out of bed in the middle of the night just to give this cat the attention he screams for at night.

Practically dies from happiness every time Beanie headbutts him.

Is very hurt that Beanie won't let him carry him, but respects the cat's boundaries.

Will even help MC makes sure the cat gets the meds for his breathing issues every day.

Poor Beanie sounds like he's choking without them and it scares the blonde 😥

Overall, loves Beanie to death, even outside of the cat annoying Lucifer~

Asmodeus:

Oh my devil!! He's too precious!!!

Takes daily pictures of Beanie to post online

And doesn't miss a single day without kissing the cat's head.

Finds the shedding Beanie does to be a bit annoying and dislikes when he uses his capped lipstick as a rolly toy

But overall, thinks Beanie is an adorable little addition to the family!

However, this man is scared of cat claws so he prefers Beanie not to sit on his lap or anything like that.

Along with Satan and MC, he is one of the brothers that spends time brushing the cat to limit the shedding

And luckily, Beanie finds being brushed more or less pleasant so this becomes the two's bonding time.

Overall, loves the cat but hates his claws.

Beelzebub:

Is neither a cat or dog person, but thinks both animals can be very sweet.

Doesn't have a lot to do with Beanie unless the cat jumps to sit next to him and then he'll scratch under his chin, just as the good boy likes.

Beel knows how to pet Beanie so good that the cat starts drooling and gives him love nips, which the gluttony demon doesn't mind.

This has Satan so jealous lol

Other than that, will try to help with Beanie's meals

And discovered that cat food isn't half bad 😅🤭

He also is usually the first person to let Beanie out when he's screaming at the front door in his demanding baby voice 💕

Overall, likes the cat pretty well, but never tries crowding the little guy like Satan, Asmo, and Mammon.

Belphegor:

Eh he's cute, I guess.

What? What else were you expecting?

Belphie does enjoy the cat's company though.

Loves when he wakes up to find Beanie in his arms or on his chest.

Honestly, this man has been looking for a new napping buddy.

Still, he prefers to let the cat come to him.

Knows that if Beanie wants his attention, the cat will not hesitate to make it very obvious.

Easily makes Mammon and Satan jealous with how much Beanie likes him and how effortless his relationship with the cat is.

Thinks those two make things more complicated than they need to be.

Just chill out and be good to the cat and the furry dude will handle the rest; it's really not that deep guys.

Overall, likes the little guy and likes having him as a nap buddy. Also loves seeing the cat drive Lucifer and Levi crazy.

Diavolo:

Loves when little Beanie visits!

In truth, Dia is more of a dog person just like Lucifer, but is far from immune to a cat's charm.

Doesn't fully understand how to properly interact with a cat, but enjoys the process of learning

No matter how many scratches or bites he gets 😅

Beanie shows him the ropes in no time though and the two become good friends!

Diavolo is very respectful to the feline and even keeps a jar of treats in his office for the cat's visits.

Eventually buys a little cat bed and sits it on his desk in hope it will entice the furbaby into sleeping next to him as he works.

And he does!!!

The prince couldn't stop smiling the entire day~

Unfortunately (for Barb), this man finds out about catnip and covers his entire office floor with the herb

Beanie was incredibly happy; Barb however, was not 😅

MC jokes that the prince is their cat's favorite drug dealer which honestly makes Dia really happy and proud.

Barb and Luce beg this man not to repeat this joke around others, but he fails to do so.

Overall, loves Beanie incredibly so and starts a new project to help the stray cats of the Devildom.

All because of the new furry friend that constantly breaks into his office 🥰

Barbatos:

Enjoys the cat's visits very much.

Beanie makes the butler's job much more enjoyable when he follows Barb around and keeps him company.

Only tried one time to scratch the furniture and the look in Barbatos's eyes was enough for the cat to carefully unhook himself from the thousand year old fabric of the chair and slowly back away from it.

Lucifer is almost tempted to beg the butler to show him his ways hehe.

Honestly, this cat listens to Barb to a degree that even shocks MC

'Cause like I thought you loved me, you little shit hehe

The cat is often right at the butler's heels and even when Beanie walks through the butler's legs as he walks, the man never trips.

The two are weirdly in sync and it's quite impressive to see.

He is also very, very happy when he discovers that the cat took down any mice or rats.

Beanie is a true kindred spirit indeed 🤭

Though he's not a fan of using his future vision, he occasionally does so he can look out for the cat and make sure he doesn't stray anywhere dangerous.

Overall, likes Beanie and does his part to make sure Baby Boy stays safe 🥰

Solomon:

Appreciates the little man and often finds him out on his nightly strolls

Sometimes he finds the poor cat in a fight with one of the Devildom's strays and gently separates them with his magick.

Has healed little bite marks on Beanie's ears so MC won't worry.

Soli is also the one who quietly cleans up the 'gifts' Beanie leaves in front of House of Lamentation so poor Asmo won't be upset in the morning.

Over all is good with the cat, but doesn't really interact or intervene unless Beanie or one of the HoL members needs him too.

Simeon & Luke:

Simeon finds the cat very sweet and enjoys watching Beanie sleep or wander around.

Luke's eyes went wide the moment he saw the black cat in HoL, but he made no move to touch or interact with him at first.

It takes a while for the child ease himself towards the rather aloof cat.

Eventually when Beanie is asleep on the couch, Luke quietly reached out and petted his fur.

He's so soft!

The little boy was so happy

Till Beanie woke up and swatted his hand away, causing a scratch on the little angel's hand.

It wasn't bleeding though and the act wasn't out of aggression; it was Beanie's way of giving a polite warning.

Simeon comforts the little boy (who is trying so hard to pretend his feelings weren't hurt, but his guardian knew better) and teaches Luke little things about a cat's body language.

Honestly, Luke learns a lot quicker than Mammon.

The child is still a bit hesitant with the cat, but thinks Beanie is still so cute.

The latter his guardian agrees with.

Simeon will sometimes buy treats for Luke to give to Beanie just to see the boy's eyes light up when the cat eats it from his hand.

Beanie is not just cute, but provides a bonding experience for the two angels.

[ohtobeleah]

Leah, hear me out:

Mickey and scratching (think picking out his favorite color and having them paint it on your nails and him going feral and begging you to scratch him)

😳 i think i need to take a shower now bye

Oh and it gets even better when you’re on annual leave and can actually have acrylic nails!

Warnings: This is Strictly Scandalous. Smut Ahead.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Holy fucking christ–” Hangmans eyes are wide as they can possibly go when hes turning around to see Fanboy pealing his standard issue black T-shirt up over his head. The group had just finished for the day, hitting the showers before heading back to their respective homes. “What the fuck happened to you!?”

“Jesus–” Rooster to crooning, smirking as he dips his head to hide his indecent thoughts. “Mickey, it looks like you've been mauled by a rabid dog.” There's deep red raw lines trailing up and down the expanse of his back. Littered with tight muscles. The sweat he’d worked up from today's session only made the memories of last night even more vivid in his mind as he tried to focus on the drills they'd been running. But it was no use, not when he knew you were at home, enjoying your annual leave time with that pretty baby blue colour painted onto the acrylics you'd gotten.

***~***~***~***~***~

“Ohhh fuck!!” Mickey swore up and down that if he had been standing? His knees would have buckled and given out beneath him as your nails dug into the muscular flesh of his back. “Shit—yeah you like that huh sweetheart?”

“Don’t stop, please Mickey don’t st—stop!” The way you dragged your acrylics down his exposed back as you clung to him, biting at his shoulder to stifle your moans as he drove his length between your velvet walls, had Mickey Garcia hissing at the painful delight. Your act had your husband hearing colours and seeing sounds. “Baby—baby harder.” When you asked for Mickey to rail you just a little more he wasn’t sure he could, purely because of the way you were already raking his back to the point of drawing blood as he held himself above you. The headboard smacking against the wall.

“I got you sweetheart I got you—“ There’s a brief window of time that Mickey contemplates if he can handle you digging your nails into him any harder than you already are—but then he catches a glimpse at your o face and he’s suddenly in heaven with all the will power and determination to be your designated scratching post for the rest of his life: “You want me to go a little faster huh?”

“Yeah—wanna be fucked dumb.” Holy shit holy shit holy shit you’ve never sounded so hot. This annual leave had really helped you relax a little.

“I can do that sweetie.” Mickeys leaning down to take your lips hostage with his own. Thrusting into you at a merciless pace. With the change of pace comes a gasp that escapes from the depths of your soul that had Mickeys orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. “Ohhh fuck baby, scratch me—“

“Huh?” You’re asking when you wrap your legs around the small of his waist. Using your heels to draw him in closer and closer.

“Claw the shit out of my back baby, I’m so fucking close.” It’s damn near painful the way Mickey is whining, but he grits his teeth as he fucks you feral and sweat drips from his curls down into your chest. “Ahhh fuck!” You’re drawing blood, pulling him down onto your chest as he exhales a guttural moan so pornographic it puts Owen Grey to shame.

The marks are still there the next morning, swollen and red raw for his fellow aviators to witness when he’s getting ready for a shower.

“Y/n got acrylics—“ Is all he says to explain himself. Rooster looks at Phoenix with a raised eyebrow. She just groans in response and hits his chest.

“Don’t even think about it Bradshaw—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Strictly Scandalous // Mickey ‘Fanboy’ Garcia

[psylunari]

For the ship ask game: kunikidazai, suegiku, atsulucy

NOTE: the post will be long as heck. I'll keep reblogging for every ship addition till I finish.

I'll preface this by saying, yes! I do ship all of these!

Kunikidazai

(nervous chuckle) buckle up, buttercup.

1. What made you ship it?

TL;DR: ironically enough, writing it made them take over my brain.

Mid-tier answer: It wasn't one specific thing. I watched the show and had 1 (one) plot bunny one year later (my most-read BSD fic). I was writing a MHA OC/canon thing at the time. While passionate about that OC/canon, it was a difficult fic, and I put it on hold.

Writing that knkdz fic proved itself easier. It was flowing. It forced me into a deep dive in their dynamic. The result is what you see.

Long answer: it took me 10+ years in fandom (legit) to like m/m ships. So it's kinda hard?? To watch things with m/m tinted glasses. AKA deliberately looking for m/m chemistry, or interpreting it always that way, or making it up in my head if I can't find it. If I come across a ship, I came across a ship. And I'm the same for any ship.

During my first watch of bongo straycats, I didn't ship much of anything. I looked at those two and went, “yeah, they're haha funny, if I were to ship something it'd probably be this”. I was done with the three seasons out, then, I “forgot” BSD.

I mean. Not that I forgot. I was in-between fandom phases with other stuff. So I didn't pay “the popular ships” much mind. They were there. A thing that existed. I didn't care for them.

Then it went like:

“Hey, I could use some change in my life, lemme style my hair like this anime twink.” “Fic idea for haha funny ship. What if instead of disappearing to commit the die, the anime twink was sick and didn't tell anyone?” ?????? “It is a CRIME that THIS dynamic is on the unpopular side, I'm declaring myself in knkdz hell till further notice and will do something about it.”

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

TL;DR: they are multifaceted, their relationship is a deep rabbit hole of symbolism, and a blast to write about.

Superficial answer: complementary personalities + look good together + attractive + hilarious banter + suspicious moments + annoyances to lovers.

Heartfelt answer: I look at them from a complete perspective. Never one without the other, never caricatures of themselves. There's the caring domestic side, the dumb disagreements, the synergy and mutual respect, the defiance of internal values, the angst past and present… They are complex. The more you dig, the more you find. It's entertaining. It made the brain go brrrrr.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

It isn't often I come across interpretations I disagree with. Dedicated knkdz shippers and I are mostly in the same wavelength. My unpopular opinion, however, boils down to “I interpret both as some flavor of bisexual, not gay” and “mischaracterization”.

Will elaborate on the latter.

On Kunikida: headcanon as the fandom might, IMO, this guy isn't confident about love and sex. Let alone super liberated.

Picture this. Inexperienced + perfectionist + “dear diary, today I dreamt of my perfect wife” + “do girls not like me because I'm a nerd?” = pretty romantic, huh? And out of touch with reality.

Don't get me wrong. He does have carnal desires or kinks, I feel. I see him as shy and easy to fluster in the beginning. He takes time to relax and do his thing, being his own biggest critic.

On Dazai: he isn't helpless and definitely has an edge. I have a catboy agenda to set. Think like a cat's claws. Can and will scratch if unhappy, they're part of him, do not declaw the catboy. The feetsies are soft and adorable. They're also a part of him.

In the love aspect: when he LIKES someone, Dazai goes “brain.exe has stopped working” and does/says the stupidest shit. I think he orbits them out of no idea how to deal with it. Staying in the same space, wanting closure, not asking for it. Literal cat behavior again.

Now, in sex matters, he's shameless for… the most part. Not vulnerable all the time. He can flirt when it's for meaningless flings. What IMO WOULD make him cry is emotional stuff. Which may be tied to a sexual moment. Just not necessarily.

[dross-the-fish]

Can we get a drabble of a post serum/lucid Larry transformation?

sure! ....

As his bones cracked, thickened and grew, Larry’s stomach roiled. His human skin split and gave way to fur, turning to dust as it peeled from his body. His groans turned to growls as he stretched out once his transformation finished, he sagged in the chair, panting.  

“No signs of aggression yet, can you understand me, Lad?” Edward asked moving in closer, notebook in hand.

Lawrence nodded, tongue lolling from his muzzle. He felt none of the usual bloodlust that came with turning into a wolf, for the first time his mind was clear.

Edward took a moment to examine the inside of his mouth, taking the risk to hold it open with his hand. “Discoloration of the tongue. Thick, viscous saliva That might be a side effect of the serum. Anything else feel different?”

With a low whine Larry shook his head. He felt fine, good even, there was a new strength in his limbs and he could feel his sharpened senses picking up new sounds and smells all around him.

“Hmm, we’ll have to keep an eye on your symptoms. This batch of the serum definitely worked but we want to monitor for side effects.”

Hyde frantically scratched away at his notebook, the sound of the pen hitting the page so hard Larry wondered that it didn’t tear. He tried carefully to rise to his feet, after Hyde unstrapped him. Watson, who had been waiting nearby caught him when he stumbled and he helped ease Larry onto the sofa, taking his pulse and checking his eyes with a pen light.

“His pupils are dilated, his skin is hot to the touch, he’s also got bleeding around his gums but that could be from the human teeth falling out and his wolf teeth coming back in. Hard to say how much of this is normal post-transformation or side effects of the serum,” Watson pulled a frown and handed Larry a bowl of water to lap at. Larry grabbed the bowl with a clawed hand and dove in, splashing water around his muzzle as he drank greedily, suddenly aware of how thirsty he was.

“Mr. Harker is making a pest of himself. He wanted to be here when you turned but Mr. Hyde and I thought perhaps it was best if we let you get settled first. I’ll give your friend this, he’s a good and loyal chap, hasn’t slept a wink and still insisted on seeing you.”

Larry smiled tiredly and gave a low chuff, his ears perking up at Quincey’s name. He gestured at the door to indicate that he wanted Quincey to come in.

Watson nodded and rose to go and open the door. Behind him Hyde carefully scraped the chair of dust from the shed human skin into a tube for study and collected a sample of Larry’s spilled blood.

“What do you think you’ll get from all that?” Watson asked, pausing with his hand on the door knob.

“Well, I won’t know until I get it in the lab and run some tests, now, will I?!” Hyde snapped irritably.

Mustache bristling in indignation it was all Watson could do to bite his tongue at Hyde’s attitude. He’d never get used to it, that brazen rudeness. As long as he lived, he swore he’d never seen someone so antithetical to the image of a proper English gentleman as Edward Hyde. He was, however, an undeniably gifted chemist and Watson had to afford him due respect…however grudging. Allowing himself a single huff he opened the door.

The door had barely cracked an inch before Quincey burst into the room, nearly climbing over Watson to get to Larry.

“Larry! Are you alright? Are you yourself? Did the serum work?” he babbled taking Larry’s lupin head in his hands and running his fingers through the fluff on Larry’s cheeks.

Larry snorted at him and gave his cheek a lick. Though he didn’t like expressing himself with such typically doggish gestures he wasn’t sure how else to indicate to Quincey that all was well.

Tilting his head, he examined his friend curiously. How strange…he marveled at how much smaller Quincey seemed, almost fragile. Larry was so accustomed to being the weaker of the two that he couldn’t resist laying a heavy hand on Quincey’s cheek to compare the size. When he rose to his feet he towered over his friend. He couldn’t deny there was something intriguing in the change. Quince seemed unbothered by the difference and threw his arms around Larry’s furred waist.

Watson’s eyes gave a knowing and affectionate crinkle, the corners of his mustache lifting as he smiled. He nudged Edward. Hyde grumbled and looked up from his samples. When he noticed what Watson was indicating he gave a disgusted scoff, “Much as I hate to break up your precious little moment, I still need to confirm that Mr. Talbot fit to be released for the night, so if you can pry yourself off of him, Mr. Harker, I’ll finish my examination and then the two of you are free bugger off.”

“Tactless,” Watson muttered at him out of the side of his mouth.

“Kiss my arse, they can cuddle on their own time,” Hyde replied, though Watson didn’t miss the lack of his usual spite.

Hyde was brisk in his examination and once he was satisfied, he nodded. Quincey seized Larry’s arm and lead him out into the hallway. Chatting excitedly at him with no more awkwardness than he did when Larry was human and could talk back.

“Shouldn’t surprise me that you’re the sappy type,” Hyde sneered at Watson as he carefully packed his samples and tucked them into his pocket.

“Have you never enjoyed being young and in love, Mr. Hyde?”

Edward stared at him, “Wasn’t love I was looking for when I was young. It was skirt…lots of skirt and the occasional discreet gentleman who didn’t mind some rough fumbling in dark alleys,” he practically purred at the memory.

Watson grimaced, “Must you make everything sound so crude? What of wooing? Of courtship? I daresay that’s the best part of the dance.”

“Oh, come off it! Love-" he spat the word as though it tasted foul on his tongue "-isn’t for the likes of me. Coo over the youngsters tripping all over themselves if you want but I have long since ceased to find it amusing.” As Hyde exited the room and strolled down the corridor, he passed Quincey and Larry. Quincey had his arms around Larry’s neck and was rubbing his cheek against the tuft of fur on Larry’s head, weeping with relief.

To be accepted by your beloved, no matter how monstrous the form you take…. that must be a wonderful feeling, he thought miserably as he shut himself away in his lab, unable to bear the sight.

[sweetpeaches666]

i've been trying to find the post explaining the ben 10 shapeshifter au but i just can't, would you be ok with explaining it again?

Sure thing. Here's the link to the original post if you still want to read it.

The Omnitrix landed on Earth before Ben and Gwen were born and Max found it. However, Max had no interest in putting on since his Plumber days had caused him his relationship with his sons, who only allowed him to be in their lives because they want their kids to know their grandfather.

And in this au, the Omnitrix landed too hard, causing it to glitch. Knowing how much trouble it is than it's worth, Max tried to call his fellow Plumbers to deal with it since he doesn't want to ruin his second chance with his family.

When Carl and Sandra came by to drop off some containers that Max forgot to pick up earlier that day, Max immediately hid the Omnitrix before his son and daughter-in-law could come in. Carl took Max outside to talk about something while Sandra put the containers back in the cabinets.

However, after Sandra put the containers back, she notices a green glowing light coming from the hidden place where Max hid the Omnitrix. Out of curiosity, Sandra touches the Omnitrix, resulting in the alien DNA going inside Sandra and the Omnitrix becoming nothing more than a bracelet. While Sandra did feel a string from the device, she didn't think much of it other than it being a strange watch that her father-in-law has.

Not long after the event, Sandra discovers that she's pregnant. She and Carl are overjoyed by the wonderful news that they're going to be parents, along with Frank and Natalie who are celebrating the news of their second child. Little Ken is excited about having a new baby sibling and cousin at the same time.

But during his development in his mother's womb, Ben was transforming inside. Changing between his forms while Sandra felt something was off. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her baby. Sometimes Ben would go small, go big, or accidentally scratch his mother with his claws.

This causes Sandra to worry about her unborn child. Even when the doctors told her that her baby is fine, Sandra can't stop fearing the possibility of something happening to her baby

While Sandra's food cravings weren't out of the ordinary for an excepting mother and even eating Max's cooking, she began to crave some metal.

Max eventually discovers that the Omnitrix has lost all the alien DNA. He at first believes it was because of the crashed landing, but when Sandra expresses her concerns about her child, Max suspects that the DNA is inside of her. However, fearing for the safety of his daughter-in-law, Max is hoping that he's wrong.

When the day of the birth finally arrive, the Tennyson family are surprise to know that both Frank and Carl are having their respective children on the same day. Nevertheless, everyone is happy for the births of the new members of the family.

Sandra, however, still felt that something was wrong. But she ultimately decided to love her child no matter what. The delivery is unimaginably painful, making her feel like she's being split in two.

But after giving the last push, Ben is born. Looking at her son for the first time, all the worry and fear immediately melted away as the love she has for her son overcame those negative emotions. Carl and Sandra coddle their newborn baby in their arms.

At that moment, everything was perfect. It was just the three of them, alone in the world together.

And that moment was over when Ben shape-shifted into his Pyronite form. The new parents were shocked and scared when they saw their child being on fire. Yet despite that, Sandra continues to hold her son in her arms.

A nurse came in to check on Sandra and Ben, only to witness everything that just happened right before her eyes. Horrified, the nurse ran out and accidentally bump into Max. She told him what she just saw.

Max immediately went to the room and sees his son and daughter-in-law, along with a newborn Pyonite. Carl and Sandra are more focused on why their son is on fire and not crying in pain. Ben then shape-shift into a Vulpimancer pup.

When Carl sees Max, he demanded to know what's going on with his son. Max reveals everything to his son and daughter-in-law about the Omnitrix. Naturally, Carl is upset that his father is seemingly returning to his old habits. But despite being angry at his father, Carl is more focused on protecting his wife and son from danger.

Even though they have no idea what's going on with their son, Carl and Sandra still love Ben greatly. Even if he can shape-shift into different species.

With Ben's parents' approval, Max runs some tests on Ben. Seeing that his newborn grandson does have the missing DNA, along with Carl's, Max discovers Ben has multiple fathers, including Carl while Sandra is his only mother.

Even after learning all of this, Carl won't let this stop him from loving Ben and still sees him as his son. So not long after Ben is born, Carl and Sandra left Bellwood for the safety of their son. Not wanting to bring unwanted attention to their family, they decided to raise Ben in the countryside so he can learn to control his powers better. Max does visit them whenever he can, which Ben loves.

So in this au, Ben grew up sheltered and isolated from the world. Both Carl and Sandra are loving but overprotective of their son since they're aware that people will hate and fear him despite wanting to help people.

Ben didn't know that has more than one father since Carl and Sandra never told him until he was five when Zs'Skayr came into his life. But it was mostly to protect him since they didn't know about the other fathers.

I hope you'll like this.

[notwarriorswiki]

Hey, love you po12 au! I was wondering about something that you said in your gorsetail hc post. You mentioned Lionblaze revealed that truth, what made you want to change it from Hollyleaf to Lionblaze?

Firstly thank you, it always means so much to know people enjoy what I make! It means a ton, genuinely! Second, due to the shift in dynamics the 12 have with different areas of support even amongst the clans, Hollyleaf's shame in being half-clan is not something she would let get to her in such a manner.

Essentially Squirrelflight finds she's pregnant, earlier than she initially was in the books. She realizes she's pregnant around the time Dovepaw and Ivypaw are apprenticed to Lionblaze and Hollyleaf respectively, and at this point the "OG 12" think all is good, though they've all noticed a few strange happenings. Jayfeather notices Dovekit chattering away about things so far away it shouldn't be possible she knows. Tigerheart notices Scorchkit that while Scorchpaw is shy, he's down right terrified and uncomfortable around certain cats for seemingly no reason. Heathertail is curious as to why Sedgepaw likes talking to herself and staring off into space, in particular ThunderClan. And finally, RiverClan just had a rather quirky young cat stroll up saying she was from the mountains. How had someone barely old enough to be an apprentice make that journey all on her own, and without so much as a scratch?

Back to Squirrelflight, she's shocked. Brambleclaw is elated, I mean he loves Hollyleaf, Jayfeather, and Lionblaze, so more kits was great news! Everyone is happy for her, but Jayfeather feels an overwhelming sense of... anger, in his mother. It surprises him. This should be something to celebrate, and Squirrelflight outwardly does. It bothers Jayfeather, but he doesn't push it, keeping it to himself.

However, that night Squirrelflight pulls Leafpool aside and they go out for a walk, and that anger is so loud that Jayfeather can't ignore it. Concerned for his family, he attempts to sneaks out to just keep an eye on things, though he is rather quickly caught by Hollyleaf. Before he can even fully explain, they take cover and overheart something they didn't expect to hear that night.

"We need to talk." Squirrelflight turned to look at her sister, voice flat, if not cold. Leafpool's ears flattened, lowering her head as she seemed to cower slightly. "Is it about the kits?" she asked, voice barely above a murmur. "Of course it's about the kits!" Squirrelflight hissed. Her ginger fur bristled, though her voice remained soft. Her sharp green eyes quickly glanced around, her claws kneading the ground as anxiety practically radiated off of her pelt. "You said I was barren. StarClan said I was barren. You said I'd never have any of my own." The dark ginger she-cat approached her sister, each pawstep heavy as she got closer. "Do you have anything to say to me now? You lied to me Leafpool. You and StarClan lied to me!" "Squirrelflight, I-" "Explain. Why? Why did you?" "You wouldn't take them otherwise. I had to, or else I'd lose everything and-" Squirelflight cut the medicine cat off, lashing her tail as she snarled. "Lose everything?! I would've stood right at your side. I lied to everyone, even my own mate. I've lied to our mom and dad. I've lied to the whole clan. I've lied to everyone I've ever cared about. I've lied to those children who I loved and raised as my own." Leafpool was silent, the brown tabby's amber eyes seeming to harden her own pelt faintly bristled. "Are you saying you regret it? That you regret being their mother?" Jayfeather had listened on in silence, unable to look away. He was as still as he could be, but not due to any amount of trying. His body wouldn't move even if he wanted it to. The gray tabby's throat was dry, and he could only imagine Hollyleaf's expression. His body practically trembled, but the feeling of his sister's soft black fur against his remained. It never dared to leave his side, the two siblings pressed against each other like when they were kits, together in the bushes. "Not for a second. I may not have brought them into this world, but they're still my kits. I'm their mother, and I'll always be their mother. But don't you use them against me now to make your lie to me ok, Leafpool."

They didn't need to hear much more. As the two sisters continued to argue, Hollyleaf would lead Jayfeather away, heading towards a spot Jayfeather always took comfort in - the WindClan border. It was quiet there, the two sitting in silence before Hollyleaf had the strength to finally speak.

"She's not our mom... Squirrelflight isn't our mom..." Her voice was so hollow, Jayfeather's own tightening as he nodded. "Brambleclaw... he isn't our dad, is he?" "I...I don't think so." Hollyleaf took a deep breath, eventually pressing against the gray tabby beside her. She buried her face in his fur, despair washing over her so strong that it could almost knock Jayfeather over. "I don't think so..."

Leafpool was their mother. Everything felt different after that. The two siblings knew they had to tell Lionblaze, and they did so pretty promptly the next day.

In my rewrite, I really strived to make Lionblaze a lot less... boring. He has anger issues, is rather impulsive, and while he has a good heart, he thinks more with it than his head to the point of issues. While Jayfeather and Hollyleaf are more logical and have simply not talked more about it beyond the simple fact of their parentage, Lionblaze is distraught and show is. He paces, he growls, he weeps, he scratches trees - he wants answers but is talked down by Jayfeather who insists they can't go throwing a stone in things now. They had a enough on their plate with StarClan, the Dark Forest, Sol, Darktail, and working with the others. Lionblaze hates to agree, but in the end all three do ask the question-

What would it change?

Outing themselves as children to a medicine cat would do them nothing but harm. In this case the ThunderClan three are much less focused on themselves and their own origin, and instead know they have stuff to do. It's hard to be angry about your origin when you believe you have most definitely been blessed.

For awhile things go as normal. They spend time with Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight, still excited about the news of having younger siblings in a way. The biggest issue they have is with Leafpool, Lionblaze avoiding the medicine cat den altogether while Hollyleaf has others ask for her. Jayfeather can't avoid it though, and he just becomes more sour with her. He's annoyed just... all around, but he's doing his best to just get by. It's a festering wound for the ThunderClan trio, as they have no way to process it, but also can't give themselves space without drastically shifting their dynamics. The three are very close with Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight, keeping up a healthy relationship with their parents even as adults. Suddenly avoiding them wouldn't go unnoticed unless they occupy themselves. And that's admittedly what they do. After all - Lionblaze and Hollyleaf get apprentices - Dovepaw and Ivypaw respectively.

However, everything changes when Heathertail and Lionblaze affirm in one of their Domain meetings that Dovepaw and Sedgepaw had been speaking to each other - Dovepaw seeing Sedgepaw out on the moor, while Dovepaw recited Sedgepaw's words perfectly back, as if the little she-cat was in her head. The two warriors had absolute undeniable confidence that their apprentices had a gift, just as they did - and this shakes Tigerheart and Pebblefoot. Tigerheart says that his apprentice Scorchpaw... well he knew about the Dark Forest, and could pick out who had been there each night perfectly. Pebblefoot's newly assigned apprentice Larkpaw told grand tales of the lights that guided her to RiverClan from the mountains, and how they always appeared to show her where to go...

It went against the prophecy, and that meeting ended rather tense and confused. Jayfeather confronts Chi the next evening, who fesses up that these cats were indeed the true three, and Hollyleaf, Flametail, Harespring, and Willowshine were not apart of the prophecy. As you would guess, this enrages Jayfeather, wondering why Chi didn't say anything before, but alas the godly figure brushes him off, admitting having those non-prophecy cats around had certainly helped with organization. They just didn't have the characteristics Chi desired - a rather flippant and detached response, though then again that wasn't unusual for Chi.

This news devastates the team, causing just about everyone to walk out with their own differing reactions. Hollyleaf is conflicted, Flametail believes he'll never be worth anything, Harespring dives headfirst into helping Ashfoot with his father, and Willowshine detaches from her siblings. Everyone is mad at Jayfeather, except for Kestrelflight, who tries to talk to him, but can't seem to get through since Jayfeather also stops using Domain during this period out of anger with Chi.

Back to our favorite impulsive and anger issues child Lionblaze, he's not talking to Jayfeather. Hollyleaf attempts to kinda get some things in order, but with her own apprentice to focus on, it's rough. Things come to a head during the Gathering where Lionblaze and Jayfeather have a fight and get into an argument.

Trying to sit with the other medicine cats was awkward when Willowshine and Flametail were there. Jayfeather could feel Flametail's hostility, followed closely by the broken despair that wallowed within Willowshine. Even as Leafpool called to him to come sit with her, Jayfeather would step back, turning and pushing his way through the crowd. "Jayfeather!" He recognized Kestrelflight's voice calling him back, but the gray tabby flattened his ears and pushed on. Not him. Not right now. As he grumbled and pushed through the mass of cats, he'd grunt upon running right into a a muscular form, his scent unmistakable. He sighed. "Sorry, Lionblaze." The golden brown tom would slowly gaze down at his brother, beside him being the familiar light brown tabby, Heathertail. Their apprentices sat nearby chattering with each other, blissfully unaware of the anger within Lionblaze. "You should watch where you're going." "Oh? How am I supposed to do that?" Jayfeather retorted back, stepping to the side with the intention of slipping past his brother. With a growl Lionblaze's fur bristled. "You're going to give me an attitude after what you did? Of course, you can never be wrong, can you?" "What's that supposed to mean? Don't you know I always have an attitude? Go ask any cat, then maybe you'll learn it's not so personal." Jayfeather's snarky tone came right out, raising his head in the general direction of his brother as he curled back his lips. "Not personal?!" Lionblaze's voice rang out. The gathering quelled, a hushed murmur being the last noise they'd hear before silence settled over them. With one of his senses practically snatched away, Jayfeather immediately snapped out of it and flicked his tail. He scented the air, and the emotions radiating off of people was pungent. Confusion, Annoyance, Worry, Fear - they all melded together to create a stench that made Jayfeather's fur bristle and his claws curl. "Lionblaze... let's calm down." "Calm down?! No. I won't be calming down when you ask any more. All this time I've listened to you and did my best, but you've been lying and hiding things from me, from all of us!" the golden tabby screeched. "You think things will just go back to normal? That our lives weren't just flipped upside down? You want to walk around and talk like you didn't just crush the sense of normalcy we had. Squirrelflight isn't even our mother, Jayfeather!!!"

The crowd gasped. The silence was deafening now. While much of Lionblaze's words were directed towards the prophecy, it didn't give it away. Most thought it all stemmed from the parentage truth, when really it was a jumble of everything they had been through over less than a moon. The gathering proceeds much like the book after that. Despite being so close to having their kits, Brambleclaw leaves Squirrelflight as a mate and is absolutely devastated. Leafpool admits Crowfeather is the father, another knife in the Thunderclan three's chest as they've soured their relationship with Breezepelt even more now. They're shunned by some of their clan, supported by others, and Leafpool steps down as medicine cat of ThunderClan, leaving Jayfeather as the sole one - which also really isn't helping the massive weight that's practically trippled in an incredibly short period of time.

Lionblaze immediately regrets what happened but is so ashamed he doesn't know how to apologize.

[danse--macabre]

tirastarion post-canon nonsense:

astarion & tirazel move to the underdark

tirazel adopts a displacer kitten

rationale: we need a guard dog. real reason: it's cute and we don't have enough friends in the underdark.

astarion immediately disapproves. 'that is not a pet, that beast is a bloodthirsty killer'. tirazel laughs at him.

'My darling, you'll always be my number one bloodthirsty killer,' 'I'm being serious!' 'As am I dear. We are keeping it <3'

unspoken: the real reason astarion disapproves is because he doesn't want claw marks on all the soft fabrics in the house.

tirazel, while talented in many areas, loathed all her lessons in music and poetry (and preferred magic and sword-fighting and sneaking out of the house and kissing boys and girls of unsuitable rank in taverns), does not really have much of a knack for artful naming or names, and calls the little displacer beast 'tails.' This is a slight improvement from the discarded options: 'stinky', 'sooty', and 'bitey'.

she still calls it stinky as a term of endearment.

astarion, completely predictably, like every 'dad adopting a dog/cat meme', comes to adore it

he calls it 'the nuisance' at first. this persists for a very long time, even after he has come to respect it.

one day tirazel sees astarion + tails looking worse for wear after a hunt, asks what happens, he explains '*the nusiance* tried to start a fight with a bullette cub'. 'How would you know?' 'I needed to keep an eye on it.' 'Oh did you?' 'It can barely handle pigeons, do you think I would be so irresponsible to let it hunt in the depths alone, [long explanation of why 'the nuisance' is sorely lacking in hunting skills and needs a great deal of monitoring and proper training]'

which astarion gives it. he's the one responsible for its training, he helps it be effective in combat, and this is the long story of how astsrion multiclasses as a ranger.

tails grows up and becomes a far better hunter than astarion. astarion is proud but also annoyed it keeps stealing his kills. however, astarion DOES succeed in getting it to avoid tearing up all the soft furniture in their bedroom, which is a win (it does not sleep in their bedroom, sorry, this was a hard line astarion drew and tirazel had to accept).

eventually he respects it enough to give it a 'proper name'. something like 'midnight' or 'umbra' or something suitably elegant. it does respond to this, however, tirazel still calls it 'tails' and 'stinky' (which it also responds to)

astarion is absolutely the responsible pet parent and tirazel is absolutely 'this is my stinky baby who I spoil with treats and scritches; it is 9ft long has a gigantic bed of pillows and will eat you; it is glorious' parent.

in fairness to tirazel, she actually trained tails in more mundane things like 'do not jump on kitchen surfaces' and 'do not pee here' and 'you can scratch these pillows but not those ones' and 'you canmot eat guests until we say so' and so on. basically, the well-behaved, civilised bits rather than the killing-machine bits.

tails/umbra loves them both :)

[jiminguuk]

Hot Takes Ahead:

If you are trying to paint a member as a “bad guy” kindly revoke your army pass to me. You don’t deserve it nor do you belong in your respective ship communities. That behavior is unacceptable.

Jungkook can do what he wants. He’s an adult. I get that many of us have especially grown up with him and feel a sort of connection with him because of it, but I think this is a great example of a parasocial relationship being harmful. He’s literally an grown man, he obviously doesn’t know every single army, yet we judge him because he doesn’t fit the idea we have of him.

“It’s harmful” “I can’t believe he’d do this” “I’m disappointed”

His decisions have absolutely no impact on our lives. He is an idol under extreme pressure. He can’t breathe without someone taking a photo or video. Personally, I believe we should be upset that the video was taken with (most likely) the intention of damaging effects rather than Jungkook have a drag of a cigarette.

——-

Jimin’s every move, every moment, everything he does is supposedly a connection to JK. I find it gross tbh. He’s an artist. He makes meaningful work for himself and others. Making connections to JK seems like a cheap shot to scramble for Jikook content. I wish, we as Jikook fans/shippers/supporters would see them as individuals as well as a pairing.

————-

If you are so tied up, obsessed, and/or banking on one of the ships to be proven…then I think you should consider having other hobbies. Shipping is fun! And it should be! It shouldn’t cause anxiety. No one should be “ship jumping” or upset about JK hanging out with tae or Jimin posting about JK. It’s literally just a ship. A pairing of beautiful people. I wish folks would focus on the wtf moments and sweet, endearing moments rather than claw eyes out to argue over dumb shit.

as a Jikooker and Yoonjin enthusiasts for nearly 8 years I can confidently say I have never wavered because it’s the content I want to see!! If I go searching for taekook, I’ll see it. I’ll see the moments. But it’s not my ship. It’s not what I like to consume because it doesn’t scratch that itch of wholesome and eyebrow raising moments I crave. (Does that make sense, do I sound psychotic?)

TL:DR I’m over all the current discourse. Move on Army.

[askaniritual]

One more for the road. I really like how you're super interested in the inner workings of troll society particularly like the quadrants and stuff. For me one of the most interesting parts is how trolls have natural superpowers and how this affects their relationships. I guess my next question is how do you think Sollux and Terezi approach the concept of power and wield it or not wield it. I think both have really interesting parallels with their exes (so to speak) in that they wield similar powers (telekinesis for Aradia and Sollux) and Manipulation (for terezi and Vriska) but have various sharp differences (aradia being immune to vriskas manipulation, while terezi manipulates simply through like understanding of dynamics rather mind control). Do you think the two view power in relationships in a similar way or a completely opposed way. I know you mentioned they have certain ways of viewing their trauma as to maintain control, but do you think this is mostly internalized or is also externalized to their (and other relationships). Also just gotta say I've really been appreciating your Homestuck posting.

ooo a very interesting question w a lot of layers

ill put this under a cut so as not to torture everybody but the short answer is i think both sollux and terezi's conception of power is extremely tied up in their positions in the hemocaste system in a way that then affects their interpersonal relationships

i think especially for sollux it is pretty clear that any arrogance he affects over his own power is primarily a defense against the ways that society seeks to strip him of autonomy and agency. he's extremely powerful but this raw power comes at the cost of his life and his future. in this way, power is extremely important to him on alternia because it's the only way he can claw some respect from a world that refuses to give him any, but at the same time people being aware of that power is exactly what will ultimately strip him of agency.

terezi on the other hand needs to cultivate power in order to continue to survive. she's blind in a society where that is something you could be killed for and the only way she can survive is to be that much better than everybody else.

what i'm getting at here is that i see sollux and terezi as people who are both concerned with power, and with being in absolute and perfect control of themselves at all times, but in the broader scheme of their lives its important for terezi that people see her as as powerful as possible and for sollux its important that people underestimate the true extent of his power. for both of them, this is intimately related to their position within the hemocaste system and the opportunities (or lack thereof) afforded to them as a result.

as far as how this affects their relationships, i think thinking about how that might affect relationships on alternia vs relationships in whatever hypothetical adult life they would have in a non-scratch universe is pretty different.

purely talking in terms of the comic, sollux knows he's working on a time limit there, and i think we see pretty clearly within the comic that he is nearly always willing to go along with what aradia wants for him, up to and including abandoning the rest of their friends. presumably he is willing to cede power because he knows he was always going to have to cede control of his fate eventually.

for terezi i think we see multiple instances throughout the comic where she unwisely cedes power in pursuit of romance (lets all take a second to remember terezi passed out in her boxers covered in faygo on the meteor). i think for terezi, this is because she does hold herself to such a high standard that there's something appealing to her about subordinating herself within a relationship, or allowing herself to give into specific impulses

anyway these are just sort of general thoughts for a very broad question, i think you could do a lot more analysis of any of these points, especially wrt how sollux talks about his psionics and his coding ability. but that's basically how i see them!

thanks so much for the question, i'm really glad to hear you're enjoying my pondering! i am having a lot of fun sharing the pondering lol

[ikeasupremacy]

"Write about a lonely experience you or someone you know had." - Edexcel GSCE English

i hate creative writing and i need to do it for my gcse so i did a 40 minute practice today and i thought this might make a cute post as some general imaginative writing bcs my english teacher liked it :3 1.2k words, warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of verbal abuse.

To my dearest Emilia,

I disagree with your letter. There is nothing I hate more than the feeling of nostalgia. In some of the literature I have been fortunate enough to obtain from my husband, nostalgia is depicted as a sweet emotion. Warm memories to look back on with a certain fondness that it seems I simply do not possess. In reality, we share opposing perspectives; there is nothing sweet, nor warm, nor fond about nostalgia.

Nostalgia is nothing more than a bitter void of memorabilia one can never return to. You can kick, scream, beg, cry, claw, scratch, yet our gracious God will never let us go back in time. It is something I feel that I will forever grapple with, during those quiet, bone-chilling moments when I am laying in bed, with nothing to distract me from this lust thoughts for these times I shall never return to. I will never again hear my mother’s laugh. I will never again feel the crisp Autumnal chill of my childhood home’s gardens.

A story I look back on with utmost bitterness, is that of a man. I tell you this tale solely because I have utmost trust in your judgement and your secrecy, within the right that once you have read this letter, it will not meet the gaze of any other person within your household, or God permit, the eyes of anyone else on this Earth.

My Emilia, beware of the married men. They will attempt to seduce you. It is a lie. They will lie, and they will lie, and the moment you even consider a facet of his lies to be truth, you will be trapped within his web, alike to the spider and the fly. We are their prey, and you cannot afford to let yourself be swept up within their tomfoolery. Men are often the downfall of the women of our time, as we are boundlessly trusting to their manipulation due to the nature of our female friendships and the echo chambers of our fathers. I am unsure about your father’s attitiudes towards boys, but mine restricted every potential interaction I could possibly have with one. As a matured woman, I of course now sympathise with his intent, however it had the domino effect of my naivety surrounding the nature of a man.

Further, men are immune to the scandalous nature of a relationship out of wedlock. While the woman they have sullied ends up forever tainted by the ghost of his touch, the shame of her child, knocked down from grace, he remains on his high horse. The very woman whom he laid his hands on, he now treats as an unclean animal, unworthy of respect, looked upon with disdain.

The man who seduced me is irrelevant. His identity is not something you need to know. He was everything I could have wanted. He told me I was his dove, his one and only, even offered me his hand in marriage. With the nature of my family, of course, this was all behind closed doors. He showed his truth one single time, and I let him have me, the clandestine nature of the event leaving me in silent, yet ineffable happiness. I had finally subverted my father’s dictator-like nature, the teenage thrill of rebellion as intoxicating as the most potent drug. At the age you are, I assume you will be able to understand this sentiment better than I could ever describe it now. He showed his truth to me that one single time, a stolen intimacy more valuable than anything I had ever posessed before. Pearls, diamonds, mansions, within my mind they all paled in comparison at the thought of being able to call this man, mine. This artwork of a man, this masterpiece, he was my everything. I don’t expect you to understand the nature of love yet. But, it is fervent. It is addictive. It is only when you feel it, yourself, that you can even begin to fathom why those in the poems, and the books, lost their minds for it, fought the wars for it, because I would have fought a war for him.

Love is sweet. But being denied it, is where my bitterness arises from. I noticed as my menstrual cycle did not come the following month, nor the month after that. And within my naive trust, I told him this. Still now, looking back on these events, within my head, I did everything right. I did everything right. Yet, he shunned me. He shamed me. He swore at me, told me the baby couldn’t possibly be his. It was a child out of wedlock, I had betrayed his trust, every word he said destroying the masterpiece of an impression he had built for himself, crumbling, falling apart, as the tears streamed from my eyes.

My child only grew. I still lived with my parents, and there was no plausible way for me to justify myself. Even then, when they inevitably found out, they too treated me with the judging stares, and the pitying looks from my handmaidens feel burned into my eyelids. I missed your Aunt Jemima’s wedding, for a child whom I did not even have.

I will admit what I have admitted to nobody else, within this letter, now. When I gave birth to this child, the excruciating nine months later, I had already planned out how I was going to frame its’ death. The maidens would have found her within her cot, no longer breathing. The ghost of my hands would lay upon her red neck, a fallen shelf upon the cot. And if that did not work, she would wake up during the night crying, covered within the lesions of cowpox, carefully extracted from those of an infected milkmaid.

Yet, the child was stillborn. As I was expected to by society, I wore black. I mourned. I withdrew myself from them all, and I wasn’t missed by a single one of them. But it was not my child I was mourning. I felt nothing towards that lump of flesh. When it left my uterus, and I cradled it within my arms, this breathless, blood-coated creature, I felt no semblance of motherly tenderless. Not one drop of it. Rather, the impulse I held back was that of to throw it onto the floor, without a second regard, and wash myself immediately. I did not mourn my child, I mourned my freedom. I mourned the loss of my girlhood. My acceptance in society. The days of innocence, when I could walk among the streets of London, among our fellow nobles, and recieve not one judging stare.

It may be twenty years later, but I feel no nostalgia for the love I held during that time. I feel no fondness, no warmth, and although I will not deny the brief moments of calm, the fingertip brush of love that I almost held within my palms, there is nothing but hate in my heart for that time, and nothing but resent within me for what I was put through, by no fault of my own. While there are certainly moments on which I may look back on, the reminder of how life was before I was tainted acts as nothing but a crippling comparison to how I have been treated by this society ever since.

Negate nostalgia, Emilia. Do not engage with it. If you forget every exchange or letter we have ever sent, let this be the one you recall with vivid emotion. Whether it be for your mother’s laugh, the crisp Autumnal air, or for your first love, nostalgia is not an emotion to be reckoned with lightly. It is soul-destroying, and do not speak of it as any less.

Yours forevermore,

Aunt Kate.

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a/n : HAHAHAH I FEEL LIKE ITS SO BLOCKY AND WEIRD BUT MY ENGLISH TEACHER SAID IT WOULD GET ME A GOOD MARK SO HERE WE ARE! also if you can catch the taylor swift references tell me aha

Goodnight Mis Amigos

[magnuficent76]

Summary: Local 16 year old goes through the most traumatic, horrifying experience of his life. And then puts an end to it.

Words: 4k and some hehe

Characters used: Luis (Lockett) and Marsh (Marsi)

Warnings: pretty bad depictions of violence, dehumanizing behaviour, blood, mental and physical torture, emetophobia, so much cursing these people have very dirty mouthes. Viewer discretion is advised.

Author's note: As always, there's a dictionary at the end of it ! This is a prequel to something I already posted here :]

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There are things people wish to never see in their life, whether it be out of fear or out of self respect, that they will inevitably have to see at some point. Life isn't fair to anybody, it doesn't care how awful you feel, how terrible of a sight it provides you, you end up having to face off against those terrors at some point or the other, whether you want it or not.

That's what I tell myself, always. I prepare myself for this inevitable confrontation, with teeth and claws bared, ready to fight against it, like I've always done.

I didn't imagine, however, that that day would've been today.

Waking up and feeling my face against the cold stone floor, with my wrists bound together by heavy cuffs, I jolted awake and pulled them as hard as I could to no avail. Looking around the jail cell, it became clear that I wasn't the first to be put in it. From the walls stained with old, dark blood, to the cracked and scratched up stones from what I can only presume is some form of weapon hitting them repeatedly, I knew immediately I had to get out of this place… wherever this place is.

I don't remember much of what happened before this strangely enough, but I have a feeling I will find out soon enough.

I tugged on the chain that bound me to the ground by the cuffs. Heavy and shiny, made from a metal I can't recognize, with runes very roughly carved into each link. Whoever trapped me here must really not want me out, if they have to get all defensive from the get go.

It's at this moment that I stop completely, forgetting to breathe for a second.

I'm alone. I'm trapped by myself, and they have Marsi with them, and even if I wanted to do something- Panic spreads in my mind, my sight becomes blurred and I can't seem to calm down, if they did something to him…

No. No. I can't let myself be controlled by fear.

Fear is for the weak. Fear makes you weak. I am not afraid.

I catch my breath, ground myself, and think. If Marsi isn't with me, they need him for something, which means they wouldn't hurt him, not now. I can't do much with these binds, but if I'm cooperative enough, maybe they'll let their guards down. I'll open a portal and get us both out of here in no time.

I sit down across the door in front of me, and begin counting tiles in the jail cell, at least until someone comes along and makes me do something else.

.

.

.

And surely enough, someone does seem to come. I see their shadow grow closer through the window, and I immediately get up to greet them. Their footsteps are loud, boots of some kind, and something shuffles along with them- Some kind of trinket? It sounds metallic, maybe some form of badge? I evaluate what I'll say carefully, remaining as relaxed as I physically can as the door slowly swings open to reveal my supposed captor…

A human woman. Tall, that one, couldn't be older than 40, with an outfit I could only describe as militaristic, with short and heavy duty boots and a coat hanging off her shoulders. She smiled bitterly, arching an eyebrow at me while she assessed the situation.

"You've wandered pretty far from home, haven't you little titan?" She says, as if she's made some kind of clever observation, "It must be hard to deal with the weather around here, knowing how different your homeland is."

"It's not that bad. The people are harder to get used to, if I'm honest," I reply casually, not breaking eye contact "Besides, not my first time around here. I have my ways to get places"

She closes the door behind her with a single quick motion, eyeing me down with a particular glare. I've heard humans tend to hide judgement within their eyes, and it's true. I can hear the gears in her mind turning to figure out a new, "clever" way to subtly insult my kind. If she's one of those people, I'm sure she only has the nicest things to say.

"Well, regardless. I imagine you're wondering what you're doing here."

"Not really, I'm really just counting tiles for the time being. There's about 215 stones on the floor from what I've counted."

She laughs, and it sounds phoney. She can tell I'm being sarcastic hopefully, but she doesn't appreciate it.

"My, quite the counter are you not?" She jokes, coming closer to me as her smile lessens. "But no… really, are you thinking about what you're really here for?"

I think about what to say next, carefully considering my options, my ears twitch a bit. "You need me for something."

"Such a smart boy." She smirks grimly. "You, and your little brother, the shorter lad with a big coat…"

Marsi-

"It'd be a shame if something happened to him, would it not?"

"If you lay a god damned finger on my brother, I'm going to punch a new hole in your skull." I rapidly snap, not even thinking about what I'm saying. She smiles amusedly, sitting in front of me unbothered.

"Woah now, let's not get aggressive. I'm only suggesting an outcome for this situation-"

"Quite the bad suggestion, I'll say that much." I interrupt, already losing my patience. If she wants to play games, she can find someone else to kidnap. "Just say what you want, name your price."

She looks irked.

With an exasperated sigh, the woman rudely puts her gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Listen, I can tell you're nervous, even when you try and act tough like this," Her grip tightens around my flesh, I feel her nails dig in slightly, but don't react. "You're not going to like what happens next if you keep trying to act all smart with me. You have no idea what you're messing with."

"I could have, if you would just get to the point-"

"Oh I'll get to the point, just be patient… How about we introduce ourselves first? My name is Augusta. What about you?"

Names have power, I remember my father telling me when I was younger. Never give your real name to someone you've just met. Both sheep and bears have teeth, and only one of them bites, but you shouldn't find out. And so, I don't.

"...Ysmel. Is this relevant to what you need me for?"

Augusta's eyebrows rise in suspicion, coming back down only to form a frown. "You're one very wanted man, are you not, titan boy? People from all over the kingdom lust for your head to roll."

That's a way to word it for sure, I thought.

"You need me for a bounty?"

"No, But rather for what you've done to warrant said bounty. You're an efficient killer… many skilled soldiers have fallen for you." Oh, I know where this is going now. She mockingly moves some of my hair out of my face, and I consider biting her hand. "You're special, is all. And I need to know how that came to be."

I remain quiet, listening to something outside the door. There's people waiting for this conversation to be over, clearly. Not within earshot, but close enough to help should anything go wrong… how pleasant. They really care about their little commander. I begin thinking of a plan as I look back at her face.

"...Carry on."

"It's a simple deal, really. You're clearly inhuman, strong as a beast, with darkened eyes and veins…" Augusta clears her throat "...With all due respect, you just don't sound much like you're corporea. So, you will donate your body to the army, and we will raise your brother as one of us, so your family's name will live on to some degree. How does that sound?"

I make a thinking face, backing up a little and staring at nowhere.

"Well, ms. Augusta… if I may say my honest opinion…"

"Yes?"

I can barely contain a snicker, but finally, I come close once more, and raise my voice:

"Your plan is utter boar shit! It's so bad! Awful even! Just a downright terrible plan! First of all, what makes you think my brother would even LISTEN?" I laugh at her face, as loudly as I can, spitting a little as I talk (on purpose). "HA! He doesn't even listen to me sometimes! You're genuinely fucking insane if you think that's gonna work, and considering you kidnapped two kids to make it work, I think you really are insane! Fuck you, fuck your stupid army, eat copper and die."

She seems shocked for a moment.

Then, she starts laughing, almost crazed.

"So you've decided you're gonna be a little trouble hmmm..? Well… I can work with trouble!"

In-between laughter, she grips my shoulder even harder as her hand lifts up quickly, but I dodge out of the way before her fist has a chance to meet my face. Still in motion, I latch onto her arm and bite down as my jaw is physically capable of. A loud scream echoes through the jail cell and out to the rest of the dungeon as she repeatedly hits me to get me off, trying to move away far enough from me, but I don't budge. I feel my teeth meeting each other in her flesh, and I grin.

"SON OF A FUCKING-!" She yelps in pain, kicking me to the side, along with a piece of her arm. Blood splatters, dripping down from her once-pristine uniform and exposed wound. I spit out bits of ripped cloth and flesh, my teeth stained red as I smile at her.

"How's that for a little trouble, hm whore?"

She wastes no time stomping over, kicking me in the chest and stepping on my head to keep me down. I squirm under the weight, wheezing slightly.

"You fucking brat. I tried to negotiate, but clearly, it's going to take more than that to crack you down." I hear the door open, and two armed men with similar uniforms walk in. She steps harder on my head as they do. "No matter. Everybody has a weakness, little viti, and I will personally find out what yours is." She lets me go eventually, kicking my chest one last time before she leaves the room, talking to the other two men in some other language. I couldn't tell, it was getting really hard to breathe all of a sudden.

Before I could pass out, I saw the two men loom over me, blunt weapons in hand, muttering something about fun. Fun. I thought about that before closing my eyes and trying to distance myself from my body.

I immediately felt it. Being lifted up and shoved on the wall, having my shirt ripped off, and then thrown around like a sack, several beatings with barely sharp enough tools to rip into me. Words wouldn't do justice for the amount of pain I was in, and frankly I wouldn't want to describe it anyway.

I couldn't tell how long it was until they stopped, grabbed me by the hair and said it was enough before throwing me roughly against a wall. The jingling of keys faded once they closed me off again, and I had some time to breathe.

My chest hurt a lot from being kicked five times, pretty sure I broke something, there were surface level cuts all over my body, and lots of fresh bruises all over. I coughed and wheezed for a while, shivering on the floor with delirium unable to tend myself due to the chain still binding me down. I was extremely tense, and tired, and in a lot of pain, but there was nothing to be done.

But I am not afraid. I hold no fear. I know Marsi is safe, and that's all that matters.

Fear is for the weak.

I start to close my eyes, feeling void leak out from my chest and down my body, cold and unfeeling. It felt like water and mud, trickling down my body and accumulating on my wounds. It felt terrible. I have yet to get used to that. But in that moment, I could barely keep my eyelids from closing, and darkness took over my vision…

.

.

.

.

I woke up hours later, with a bucket of water to the face. I couldn't tell what time it was, but that didn't matter. Augusta was standing in front of me again, with the same smug expression from before. Hasn't learned her lesson at all, and neither have I.

"Good evening, Ysmel. Pleasant day we're having. I trust you slept well?" She says condescendingly, crouching down to see me.

"Good day Augusta. I slept nicely. I was having a lovely dream where I ate your heart and used your skull as a bowl." I reply, equally as mockingly. I get up slowly and watch her movements, just in case she tries to kick again. This time I'll aim for the legs, since the cow clearly can use them.

She seems to have caught wind as well, as now she was wearing sturdier looking clothes and protection, with a barely visible bandaging underneath one of the pauldrons, and boots that now went up to just barely below her knees.

"Equally displeased to see you, Ysmel. But I won't be here very long, I just want to try and give you another chance is all…" She says, circling me like a vulture that just found its next carcass. "There's still time to change your mind."

"You sound awfully sure."

"Why, of course. I trust you're not stupid enough to try and pull a… stunt like you did yesterday again. Because, well, you did see what happens with stunts like that," She looks down very seriously, grabbing me by the horn suddenly and forcing me to look at her face, her eyes intense. "You understand that I will kill you now, yes?"

I don't respond, remaining unmoving despite her best attempts at intimidation. I know that they won't kill me yet. She has eyes, she can see I'm practically completely cured from what her goons did, and she knows whatever they have wouldn't be enough to keep me down on the ground.

But sure. For the sake of not wanting it to happen again, I'll bow my head this time.

"Of course, Augusta." I lied, looking to the ground. She promptly lets go of my horn, and leaves the cell without another word..

She leaves, and leaves the door open.

I don't dare move near it. That's a trap. I wouldn't get very far anyway. Just barely out the door.

She knows that.

I wait for a few minutes, and she comes back with a plate in hands and a smile on her face. She puts the plate down, and sits in front of me.

"Thank you for your collaboration," Augusta says "I'm sure you won't regret that, dearie."

"...What have you got there?" I ask looking over at the plate. It looked as though it was cooked only with the chef's arse, but I couldn't complain. If they were willing to feed me in these circumstances, I guess it's a sign.

"Oh, this little thing? I talked to your brother while you were asleep, is all," Did she-? "He mentioned that you hadn't eaten in a while, so I figured I might as well give you a little treat."

The way she speaks makes me sick.

But the mention of food made my stomach growl. I have been prioritising Marsi eating over me, and I haven't really been hungry at all so I thought it wouldn't be a problem. I guess it was a problem after all.

"... There's a catch, isn't there?"

"Still smart as ever. Glad to know that although we beat the lights out of you, your little head still works great." She grins, grabbing the plate and holding a spoonful of the… mixture in front of me. "Now, open wide."

"Oh, I'd rather fucking starve." I back away into a corner, wrinkling my nose bridge and turning my face away.

"Well, there's no way I'm letting these chains come off anytime soon. So I suppose I could throw this away, let you starve and rot in here, waste everything… or… I could eat it myself." She shoves down the spoonful of food in her mouth "And I will. And I'll enjoy every second of it."

She kept eating for minutes. Minutes turned into an hour. That hour turned into some more. After she left, and the men came in again, I thought about the offer while in that dissociative state… Why WOULD they need my body? Why bother with Marsi, when he's clearly just a child? What is even the final goal?

I went to sleep that night thinking about it. The noise in my head seemed to muffle out the pain I was feeling.

The same happened again, and again, and again, and again. And while I ignored how my stomach rumbled and growled for even just the smell of that thing, I laughed internally at how she was obviously taking small bites out of the meal to save it for me, if I ever seemed interested in eating it. How sweet.

At some point, I gave in. The hunger became noticeable, and at that point, if I didn't eat, there was more of a chance for the other two to hurt me more. I was too annoyed at her smug stupid face eating the food to notice that now I was sitting much closer. That's a draw on our little feud for now.

"Do you need something?" She 'innocently' asks, putting another spoonful of food in her mouth. Her lips seemed… dry, for some reason.

"Could I eat, please?"

She grins evilly, and grabs a full spoon's worth of food and then holds it out in front of me, waiting for my reaction. I slowly approach, smelling the food inconspicuously… doesn't seem to smell like poison… or anything for that matter. I risk it and take the first bite, chewing slowly and refusing to break eye contact with her for a second.

…And it's just normal food. Really salty for no reason, but it was actual, edible food. A stew of some kind, maybe, definitely not the worst thing that's been in my mouth, but it wasn't great, either.

I huffed, leaning in to take another bite, and she seemed pleased with our "progress". The more I ate, the more I wanted, and the thirstier I seemed to get. Not the most filling meal, but enough to have me satisfied. But it was just so damn salty.

"Did you like it, Viti? It was made just for you" She mumbles, babbling as though I was some kind of dog.

"It was fine."

"How delightful. Do you need a drink?"

"That would be…hunhh… my… my head- Gods-"

"Oh dear, was it too salty for you?" She smirked, getting up with the plate in her hands. I KNEW there was something wrong! "I should've mentioned… what you just ate? That's what we usually serve to the dogs. Just a simple mixture of watered down meat and salt… maybe the chef added too much salt for you, though."

If nausea wasn't already enough to make me embarrassed, the sheer shame I felt from hearing I had just been fed dog food like an animal pushed the final lever to make me throw up. It was all dark, with bits and pieces of the "meal" being more apparent than others. The part I was most worried about was that there was clearly some level of void essence leaking through… which meant something inside wasn't right.

But I wasn't the only one contemplating this puddle of vomit, apparently. Augusta seemed fascinated, muttering something again about a "darkness". So she knows to some degree…

"Poor dog… you must be so tired," She ran a hand through my hair, and I was unable to do anything to stop her aside from groaning and attempting to get away. "Do you not want relief? Out of this awful world you've been put in? There's a way out here… I'm offering it to you. All you've got to do is take it."

It took me a moment to react… then I headbutt her directly on the mouth, as fast as I could manage, while almost slipping on my own puke. With her down, I manage to get behind her, sliding the chain on her neck in an attempt to choke her out. It was working, until nearby guards came in and immobilised me with magic.

She fell on her knees, hands first on the puddle again.

And that's 2 x 1, you cow.

"You must think you're so funny, pulling acts like these… you should be grateful I even tried to feed you at all." Augusta hisses, cleaning her hands off on someone else's uniform. "You're NOTHING in this situation. I don't care what you are, I don't care what I have to do, I am going to keep you down here for as long as I need to until you drop dead. Like it or not."

"You better try harder then." I spit out angrily. "You're doing a shit job so far."

She stays silent, ready to do something again… until she stops herself. She looks back at me, then glances off into the distance, then back at me again… and she grins. Her smile goes from ear to ear in a sinister fashion, and she steps away from the cell.

"Well then… if my methods are so terrible according to you, why don't we see what your little brother Mosri has to say about it? I'm sure his opinion is very different."

My blood runs completely cold. Oh gods. Oh no, nononononono- My sight goes into tunnel vision mode, and I kick and scream for justice, for someone to intervene, for ANYTHING to happen at all… but nothing does. I am simply thrown back into a corner, they lock the door to my cell, and there is silence.

Very, very loud silence.

I pace around the cage like an uneasy animal, struck with the panic of seeing a predator walk closer and closer to its home. At this moment, there was only fight or flight to be done, and somehow I could do neither. I was not prepared. I am afraid. I am weak.

I try to force myself to calm down, easing my breath little by little, until I hear a loud scream coming from the other side of the area. A scream that I could easily recognize as my brother's pain.

"NO! NO, STOP! PLEASE! PLEASE, I BEG YOU, PLEASE DON'T HURT HIM! HE'S JUST A KID! HE DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING! PLEASE-" I yell and beg, rattling the bars to my cell and throwing my body against the wall, in a futile attempt to escape the situation in any way. I try again and again, bashing my head against the door until I hear a crack coming from my horn. The screams continue, and I lose hope completely.

My ears ring with the sound of my blood suffering. My brother, my blood, my everything, pleading in pain to gods that won't listen. And me, stuck in a cage, like a helpless animal with no teeth or claws that can be bared. Naked and useless.

I am afraid, weak, and useless. But I can't be. I can't be.

After a brief break, I keep on screaming, even if just to comfort myself that at least I DID something.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE! IT'S ME THAT YOU WANT! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT ME TO DO, JUST LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE, RIGHT NOW."

And I kept going. And going. And going. For hours, days, even. I don't know how long I continued. But no one came. Not to check on me, not for me to "learn" discipline, nothing. At some times, I couldn't hear him scream anymore, so I would assume they stopped, and were coming back for me. But they never did. And the screams would begin again.

"WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT FROM ME?! I SAID I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANT! I'LL DO ANYTHING! I CAN OFFER MY BODY AND SOUL JUST- JUST… just please… please stop hurting him… please…he's a kid… he's just a kid…"

But no one would come. It didn't come for days.

My voice ran thin at some point from screaming too much. I was empty. That was it. That's all I could fight. I did my best, and my best was not enough. I was weak.

Laying on the ground, I felt nothing. I couldn't hear, or feel, or see anything. It was all dark, from the beginning to end. Like being stuck to the bottom of the ocean. You kick and scream and cry out for help, for anyone to see where you are, to rescue you from the water encompassing you, but it's already in your lungs. You float down to the bottom, and watch your conscience flicker out with the last bits of light, and everything you know disappears along with the tide.

But somehow, some way, something deep inside me allowed me to move. With the last bit of force in my body, maybe I could at least help save something else.

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Darkness began crawling out of the titan's body, cold and unfeeling, lifting him up like a puppet on strings. It ate through the metals and runes like they were nothing, leaving the once heavy chain a light dust on the ground, with no semblance to its original form. Darkness flowed out of his eyes, down to the floor, covering his everything.

Guards that were walking nearby saw the scene. Something so shocking and unbelievable, none of the men understood the presence just barely 10 feet away from them. Across the stone walls and wooden supports, an unfathomable devil walked through its cell door like it was made of nothing, its remnants falling to the floor pathetically and carrying no weight.

"O-oi… what the fuck is that-?" One dared speak, putting their weapons up defensively. All that did was attract the beast further. It turned to them with massive "eyes", several bright blue rings burning inside of these holes like pure magic… and then, it smiled. A wicked grin, tearing through its own flesh in the process, sharp teeth black as obsidian and coal hid just beneath.

"HEY-! BACK OFF, FREAK, OR W-" The second one could barely let out, but the thing was already too close. With just a single leap towards their direction, the entity opened its massive maw and, with a single bite, ate his whole head in one clean cut. The other two weren't nearly as lucky- having been both sliced across the chest by the creature's claws, revealing their fragile mortal insides and soul.

"w-what…what are you…" Said the dying man to the approaching shade.

It came closer, and closer, and thus it spoke, no higher than a whisper:

"I am revenge. I am justice. I am the unavoidable truth you have been trying to hide from," It plucked out his heart with a single claw, taking it out of his chest still beating just as easily. "I am the harbinger of nothingness. Cower before me, and accept your fate."

And his soul was eaten.

As the creature walked through the castle's walls, any and all that stood in its way would fall. The building's very structure started to give in its own weight, beginning with the wooden supports that started to rot from inside out. People were killed with just a single viewing of the presence, and even the warmest rooms in the manor fell completely cold. All were frozen from inside and out, their hearts stopping in just a single skipped beat.

She knew what was coming. She knew it was there. And it knew that too. Augusta picked up the young, sleeping titan and she ran. She ran as far as her mortal legs could carry her, avoiding the falling debris and approaching nightmarish abyss. But then, as life often does, it forced her to look into the eyes of the terror.

Just by walking, it caught up easily, and there it stood. Much taller than before, deformed and hungry. Its ribs poked out like razor blades, its horns large and swirling with pure magic, and the darkness all encompassing. She looked into its eyes, and, for a moment, it felt like she was smiling, but she couldn't tell.

And for a moment, it smiled back at her.

The child was moved out of the way, and the creature brutally tore the human's body apart, limb from limb.

——————————————————————————————————

.

.

.

Lou..!

Lou!

LOCKETT!

I jolted myself awake from the sounds of my brother screaming, and found myself being tightly hugged by Marsi's little frame.

"Lou-! Thank the Spirits, you're okay! Is everything alright? You- you… you were-"

Without thinking twice about it, I hugged him tightly, scooping him up in my arms. It was all okay.

Nothing bad happened.

"Lou..?"

"Shhh, shhh, it's alright. Everything is okay now, okay?" I coughed, hugging him a little tighter. "We're both safe, it's all okay…"

"But the.. the castle… Lady Augusta… you-"

"I know, I know. Must've been unpleasant to see, I understand. It's a lot to process, but we can have a better look at this later, okay?"

"...I was really scared, Lou…"

I paused, ruffling his hair as gently as possible.

"I know. I was really scared too. I was scared they hurt you, and I acted out based on that. They didn't, at least, and that's all that matters, okay?"

"Okay… are you hurt?"

"I don't feel anything right now. Are you?"

He shakes his head and rests on the crevice of my neck, and I very carefully put his hood over his hair. I began to walk out of the frozen rubble, noticing the snow beginning to fall from the clouds above. It wasn't the beginning of a storm, but the gentle aftermath of a catastrophe. I knew I had to get us both to safety, but I found comfort in the fact that at least, snow would fall regardless.

———————————————————————————————

Dictionary:

Tomarath: A large arctic bear-like creature with a longer body and fur, and protruding fangs and claws.

Viti: A slur referring to titans. In the context of the story, this is a pretty big offence, basically meaning "[small] insignificant life".

"Eat copper and die": An expression that was used a lot in Lockett's village. It references a punishment used by the Titans, in which a person deemed a criminal must eat shavings of oxidised copper. If you live, it means you're strong enough to deserve redemption, but if you die, you're basically a weak, scumbag coward.