#I'll come back and edit this later ;w;

[camels-pen]

(i haven't read Whole Cake in a while, and i never really watched it, so bear with me)

I'd love to write a fic with Usopp on Whole Cake. it'd be sooo fucking long and i'd need to refresh myself on the entire arc, but god i'd probably be so satisfied when it's done. specifically for having brought a single moment in my head to life, but we'll get to that.

On Zou, he insists to be taken along on the Sanji rescue team and has worked himself up with a whole bunch of very good reasons as to why he should go there instead of helping in Wano, but of course Luffy just immediately accepts with a "yeah sure"

With Whole Cake, I think he'd be flipping between having fun as part of the idiot trio/quartet (Luffy, Chopper, Carrot), and being terrified with Nami. There wouldn't be that many differences in the arc as a whole, though; some things would be easier/better and some things would be worse- I don't necessarily think Usopp's presence would be overall an advantage or disadvantage, just different. Like, major events would stay mostly the same, but little details would change and maybe those little details would build to a far more drastic change-

for example, maybe one of Big Mom's kids considers themself a great sniper and wants a match with Usopp, or is motivated to work harder because Usopp is around and they want to take him out and boast about it. Maybe it means Sunny takes more damage than canon, or maybe Usopp's help means less damage to Sunny. (idk if i'd really do smth like this, but it's just an example)

skjdhf fuck i'm really not equipped to try and figure this out when i don't remember shit from Whole Cake aaaa

I do know that, despite his penchant for talking and rambling, I'd probably have Usopp be dead silent after his initial shock when Sanji fights Luffy. Everything about that is the same, except Usopp is just watching Sanji the whole time- not panicking, not moving, and not speaking. He doesn't say a word the entire time, doesn't even make a sound, and that, along with Luffy's words and Nami's begging, stick with Sanji.

(Usopp is thinking of his own fight with Luffy in Water 7, he's partially wondering if this was what it was like- if it was this painful to watch from the sidelines- and partially knowing he doesn't have to say a word, because he knew, like he knew back then, that it didn't matter what was said. It wasn't quite the same, but he could tell in the way Sanji moved, in the way he spoke and held himself, that he was putting on a front, trying to be brave in all the wrong ways. Usopp didn't say a word to Sanji because there was nothing he could say that Sanji himself didn't already know. Should've known. And his quiet, direct stare, was more than enough.)

the singular moment i really wanna write, is a scene where Sanji is apologizing for dragging them into his mess- either during the big meeting in Bege's castle or some other time- and Usopp's like "I'll do what you can't, you do what I can't, right?" and Sanji pauses, a little confused, until he remembers Enies Lobby and a stupid mask and cape and-

and tears are gathering in his eyes now, fuck, but he laughs a little. It sounds wet and his face is itchy and they're surrounded by tentative allies, but he- he laughs again and he says, "Fuck, you remembered that?"

Usopp shrugs, a little smile on his face. "They were some wise words from a wise man."

Sanji laughs a third time. "You think I'm wise?"

And they banter a little more before Bege tells them to quit it since they're on a time constraint or something. Quietly, Usopp will ask, "It-it helps. On bad days. And I figured, 'what's a worse day than this?' Ah, not that you getting married would ever be bad per se-"

"Usopp," Sanji says, looking more relaxed and settled. He smiles fondly and grabs his friend in a one armed hug, crushing him to his side. "Thanks."

And yeah, don't remember much beyond that, except the whole "hiding and then busting out of the cake" bit, which would mean Usopp in a cute little tuxedo or smth- maybe with a fedora aaaaaa <- loves fedoras- helping out with the fighting and eventually sailing with everyone to Wano.

He would be so distressed about fixing up Sunny now that the whole thing with Whole Cake is over. Maybe there'd be a gag about him promising Franky to take good care of Sunny while they were gone and being confident, after being Franky's tinkering partner and learning from him over time, that he could handle minor repair work much better than he did the first time around with Merry. And so when he finally takes in all the very-not-minor repairs he has to do, he's certain Franky is gonna strangle him for not keeping his promise. Probably also try to write in some nostalgic 'repairman Usopp' vibes from pre-Water 7.

Also something something, Sanji, wanting to do more for the crew bc he still feels guilty about Whole Cake, decides to take it upon himself to help Usopp not fall into a whole anxiety spiral about the ship. In turn, Usopp ends up helping Sanji not feel so guilty- usually by handing his own words back to him on a silver platter. And, yknow, having the two of them bonding and being buddies again like they so rarely get to be in canon nowadays qwq

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[ki-yomii]

like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby. 

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style. 

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?” 

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest. 

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir. 

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss. 

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

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

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

BIG OL HECKIN EDIT:

I am a dum dum who forgot how to spell @sassenach-on-the-rocks amid my existential terror and dread of the deleted-draft incident mentioned below, and then did a Dum Dum no Double-Down by forgetting to update until now. This headcanon is their brainchild and they deserve all the credit for it.

You may now continue with your previously intended brainrot viewing.

I'm VERY INCREDIBLY MIFFED, MY GUYS.

I had this entire post finished and almost completely formatted and saved it as a draft to finish formatting it on my computer

And it DIDN'T SAVE. And I nearly SCREEEEEMED.

It was for an ask request and I also can't seem to tag the person that sent the ask.

I am A N G E R Y

But after several deep breaths and reminding myself that violence is not the answer, here we are.

At any rate. The ask request was for headcanons involving One Piece boyos taking reader to a Masquerade ball.

To the asker, should you still be around to see it, I really really loved this and thank you so, so much for it ❤️❤️ I really enjoyed finding masks to match their aesthetics.

Only deviation I made was Zoro; you meet him there rather than going with him. It just felt right that way for some reason.

And awaaaaaaaay we go~

The Masquerade

Sanji, Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk, Buggy x Reader

SFW Headcanons

This was really so fun and cute and I thank Asker so so much for this.

♫♬Little By Little — The Fratellis♬♫

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine, they don't come cheap but they fit just fine

You can be her and I can be him, and we can both sink while the rest all swim

Sanji

He heard about it when you made port, and there's no way he's not taking you.

He's been looking for an opportunity to take you on the perfect first date, and this is it.

Perfect opportunity for the two of you to get away from the crew for and have a little alone time.

A little dancing, a little wine, a little champagne—it's perfect.

Makes sure not to tell anyone else, if Luffy hears there's free food he'll insist on going and the whole thing will no doubt end in chaos.

He doesn't even tell you—all he tells you, after presenting you with a brand new dress and jewelry (which most likely cost him every last berry in his wallet), is that he would like to take you out for the evening.

And how could you turn him down?

"Come on, love. I promise it will be the best evening you've ever had."

The effort he's already put in, those puppy-dog eyes....

You spend the evening dancing, talking, enjoying the free food, every ounce of his attention on you the entire time as he ensures that you feel like a princess.

Making sure that everyone has their eyes on the pair of you on the dance floor, that they know you're there with him.

Somehow ending up chit-chatting with the catering staff toward the end of the night and being invited to their far less formal after-party.

Stumbling back to the Merry hours later together, half-drunk and giggling and positive that it's the best night you've ever had.

Zoro

"What the hell...?"

He got lost and wandered in.

No idea what's going on, why are all these people wearing masks and dancing?? What exactly is going on this is weird as—

Oh hey there's an open bar, cool.

You recognize him from his bounty poster fairly quickly. There are a lot of marines here, and he really isn’t causing any problems, but he's getting a lot of strange looks...so you decide to do the guy a favor and shove a mask in his hands.

He looks at you like you're speaking another language as you explain where he is and convince him to just put on the damned mask already.

"A ball? I thought this was some kind of weird cult or something."

You just stare at him in disbelief—he thought it was a cult and he's just standing around enjoying the free drinks. 

What.

You brush it off and tell him if he wants to fit in, then dancing is probably a good idea.

He's frowning at you again.

"Yeah, I don't really...do that."

You roll your eyes—there are still people eyeing him suspiciously, you have to do something, so when he finishes his next drink you just grab him by the wrist and drag him out to the dance floor.

Cue impromptu ballroom dancing lessons. He keeps stepping on your feet and mumbling apologies, but it's kind of cute how hard he's trying.

You really can't help but giggle at his explanation that he just got lost and wandered in here.

But you're glad he did—you doubt you would have had nearly as much fun otherwise.

Shanks

Heard about the whole shin-dig while in port.

"Hey that sounds like fun, we should crash it."

You try to be stern, but he pulls out the puppy dog eyes.

"Oh come on please?"

God dammit....

And maybe an hour later you're both making masks.

There's glitter and glue and feathers all over the captain's cabin and you're already dreading cleaning it up.

His has a giant gaudy pirate hat. Because of course it has a giant gaudy pirate hat. He's so proud of it, grinning like a little kid in an arts and crafts class when he holds it up to show you, that you can't even bring yourself to admonish him for it.

And of course the whole thing is invitation-only, and of course he manages to sweet-talk his way in anyway.

Just having such a good time, really doesn't care if anyone recognizes him.

Really doesn't care, just drinking and making small talk and joking with several lower-ranking Marines in attendance who are clearly very nervous.

Within an hour, while you're in the middle of dancing and deciding that maybe this wasn't *such* a bad idea, an announcement is made for everyone to leave immediately.

Judging by the sheer number of Marines outside there's no doubt as to why.

He just gives you a guilty grin before picking you up over his shoulder and bolting back to the ship.

Mihawk

Actually received an invitation, just rolled his eyes and tossed it in the trash.

You dig it out and pout about it until he rolls his eyes and gives in.

"Fine. No more than an hour."

At lease there will be free wine.

Unsurprisingly spends a great deal of time standing in a corner and sipping said wine while staring around haughtily at the other partygoers.

Would much rather be drinking wine back in his secluded castle and not having to deal with other humans.

Spends the vast majority of the evening standing in a corner and nursing a glass of wine while glaring around haughtily at the other guests, daring them to even think of attempting to make small-talk with him.

Doesn't move from his designated corner until he sees other guests daring to flirt with you, at which point he promptly saunters over to pull you to the dance floor and ensure everyone is well aware that you're there with him.

Lightens up a little after that (which may or may not have something to do with the several glasses of wine he's already consumed), but absolutely will not admit that it actually turned out to be a rather nice evening.

He will, however, hold this over your head and remind you that you owe him.

But you know the truth, considering he's a little more willing to attend such events with you after this.

Buggy

Oh what now? An excuse to be absolutely flamboyant and unhinged in public?

You're going. Period. There will no arguments.

He's already got a collection of masks and costumes anyway, this is going to be a blast.

You lose track of him shortly after you get there. You're pretty sure that the explosion that went off toward the back corner of the dance floor had something to do with him.

He finds you while you're sipping a glass of champagne in downright annoyance and proudly informs you that he's made bank going through pockets at the coat check while everyone was distracted by his little diversion.

"Ah, don't worry, babe, they won't notice. They're too busy schmoozing and kissing ass."

Standing around making small-talk with other guests in the most ridiculous put-on aristocratic accent he can possibly muster, introducing you variably as some foreign dignitary or princess from a far off land.

Literally can't take this idiot anywhere.

[jsprnt]

Americano PT. 1 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: part one is here, enjoy! <3

W/C: 3.398

Introduction

"Can you try smiling this time?"

I mumble, holding myself back from rolling my eyes in annoyance. I click my tongue, standing behind Luis, my close friend and cameraman.

"The photo needs to be edited later, for sure. Looks a little off compared to the others." I tell Luis, sending an insult to the man in front of the camera, in English for him to hear.

Even so, Luis and I usually spoke English to each other. It being a language we were both very well versed in.

Jude doesn't even look like he wants to be here, at all. He wouldn't be the only one, that was for sure. 

"That's good enough, Bellingham. You can go." I say, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes, the Brummie accent, which was quite new to me, rolling off his tongue.

He raises his hands, smoothing down his shirt, before nodding at Luis with a smile and leaving, not acknowledging me per usual.

"Douchebag." I mumble, solely for myself to hear, but I notice Luis glancing at me.

"What?" I ask, rolling the papers in my hands into a tube out of boredom. The letters curving with the bend of the paper.

"You two are becoming more insufferable every day." He says, going to wipe his camera lens with a microfiber cloth. He treated his cameras like his actual children.

"Not my fault." I reply through clenched teeth, placing a hand on my hip.

"You spilled an entire americano on his brand new, white kit. On his first day here." He says, recalling the embarrassing and aggravating incident.

"It was just an accident!" I retort, unfolding the papers again. "We could have moved on from that after I apologized, but he's decided to be an asshole about it."

So, who was the insufferable one here?

He doesn't say anything else, an uninterested sigh leaving his lips as he distracts himself with the lens.

I saw Luis as the older brother I never had, but he wasn't even taking my side in the situation.

Traitor.

I huff, turning away and looking around the pitch for some entertainment I could turn into content.

My eyes catch the players of the club warming up a couple meters away.

Easy content, my favorite.

"Can I get a camera?" I nudge Luis, his eyes looking up at mine.

"Should I trust you with one?" He says, voice unsure.

"Yes, just give me the smaller one." I usher, holding my hand out in anticipation.

He sighs again, grabbing the requested camera out of his equipment bag.

"Two hands." He mutters.

I roll my eyes, grabbing the camera with the apparently very necessary, two hands.

"I'll take care of your child." I mock, smile tugging at my lips as I see him get annoyed.

"Chill, I've got it." I add, walking away from him.

I was being serious, of course.

Firstly, I wanted these shots to come out perfectly. Secondly, I didn't want to get killed by him for ruining his precious camera. I had enough enemies in this club already. Losing an ally wasn't on my bingo list this season.

I turn the camera on clumsily, pointing it at the training players as I'm standing behind the goal.

How the hell does a small camera weigh this much? It genuinely felt like a bag of rocks weighing down on my arms.

I try to ignore the heaviness of the camera, filming the individual shooting of the players. Moving the camera when necessary.

I stand there for a moment, before I hear Luis come up to me, finally taking the camera out of my hands.

"How the hell do you even hold these cameras? My arm almost went numb." I say, rubbing my tired arm as I look at him.

"I go to the gym, unlike you- and I'm used to it by now." He replies, focusing on filming.

The urge to say something petty back is interrupted as Camavinga suddenly yells at us, our heads snapping up.

« Tu filmes? » are you filming?

He shouts in French, standing in his position.

I used to whine and complain about having to take French back in school, but now I was genuinely grateful for it. It was very useful now, even though I had forgotten a great chunk of it.

"Want us to?" I shout back in English, ignoring the fact that we are shouting back and forth like maniacs. He nods, giving us a thumbs up.

"Yeah, go ahead." I nudge Luis, making him film again. I grab him, making him take a step back for safety, watching Cama receive the ball and shoot, hitting the net perfectly.

I cheer quietly, not wanting to disturb the audio of the footage as he smiles back at me, walking back to stand and watch the other players.

I have been working in the marketing and PR department at Real Madrid for about two years now. The club and players were generally very nice to work with, which made my job so much better.

It wasn't my permanent job. I had just started my third year of my law degree this new school year, combining online classes with this job. Balancing did get difficult at times, but I liked the fact that it kept me busy and motivated.

"Think we're good to go." Luis says, interrupting my thoughts as he points his camera downward.

"You sure?" I ask, whipping my head around.

"Yeah, the sun is about to melt us and the camera. Come on, let's go inside." He says, grabbing my wrist and dragging me away from the pitch

"If you read this sentence, does it sound like I know what I'm talking about?" I ask Lina, her face scrunching up almost instantly. 

I was confident enough to write this essay on my own, really, but having a friend keep me company made it way more fun. 

"You know I don't like thinking about school. That's in the past for me." She says, her hands coming up in front of her defensively. 

"Come on, please? I'll grab a drink for you in a minute." I beg, placing my hands on her shoulders, shaking her back and forth.

"Make it two."

"Deal."

"Okay, show me." She says, shoving a piece of pineapple into her mouth, grabbing my laptop and leaning forward as I repeat the question. 

She types away for a second, adding a few words before turning to me after reading the sentence again. 

"What are you writing? The damn Magna Carta? What kind of essay is this?" She asks, her eyebrows raised. 

"It's about EU law." I sigh, I liked this subject, it was very interesting, but I couldn't wait to be done with this fifteen page essay. 

"Explains a lot." She says, shoving another piece of fruit into her mouth. Her fork suddenly appearing in front of my face, a piece of watermelon spiced onto it. 

"Thanks." I mutter, biting off the piece of fruit as I hear commotion in the hallways. 

"Get me my drinks, please?" She asks, blinking at me. I roll my eyes, push my laptop back and get up. 

"Let me guess, a lime soda and an orange juice?" 

"You got it." She winks, smiling at me. 

I chuckle at her, looking up as I watch the players pile into the cafeteria. 

"Lunchtime?" I mouth at Lina, she checks the time on her phone, nodding. 

I make my way to the bar, extending my arms up to grab two cups. The feeling of someone's hand on mine catching me off guard as I immediately let go of the cup. Turning around to see Jude right behind me. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, sending him a nasty look. Invading my personal space wasn't enough, now he wants to steal my cup?

"Grabbing a cup?" He retorts in a menacing tone, sending a glare back. 

I look at him, watching him fill his stolen cup with water, before he looks at me again. 

"What?"

"Can you move?" I ask through gritted teeth, motioning to him how he's basically entrapping me in between the counter and himself. 

He looks at me for a second as if to provoke me more, finally stepping away when I sigh. 

I scoff, rolling my eyes and extend my arm to grab another cup apart from the one I already had. 

I give him another nasty look, before filling both cups up and finally leaving his vicinity. 

"Don't spill it on anyone." He says, mocking tone clear as day. 

I turn again, fighting the urge to throw the precious orange juice into his annoying face before sighing and walking away. 

"Hope he chokes on his water." I mutter, finally putting the two cups down on the table, in front of Lina. 

"What was that back there? Another one of your tantrums?"

"No, his tantrum after he couldn't grab another cup, other than the one my hand was already on."

She chuckles, and I send her a slight glare, trying to delve back into my essay. 

I was maybe halfway through already, having to hand it in next week. I might have procrastinated a little, but one thing about me was that I'll always get it done on time. No matter what. 

Though, as I keep reading the word vomit I had written, I feel a wave of annoyance flow through me. I grunt, putting my face flat on the table. 

Two more years, then I could finally do my specialization. Two more years. 

"What's gotten into her?" I hear, recognizing Luis' voice. Then I hear a shift of the chair across from me as he sits down with- probably a tray of food. 

"Essay." I hear Lina mumble, a hum coming from Luis in acknowledgment.

"Are you still not done with that essay? You got it assigned like three weeks ago." He says in a nagging tone. 

I groan, remembering that I said that I wouldn't procrastinate this school year. Past me definitely hated the present me, and for sure hated future me even more if I kept this up. 

I raise my head, huffing before sitting up straight.  I blink a couple times to clear my vision and start to vigorously type again. 

"Have you guys seen the final edit for tomorrow's match?" Luis says, covering his full mouth with his hand. 

"No, who approved it?" I ask confused, glancing at the both of them and returning my gaze to my screen.

"Valeria did." He says. I look at him for a moment, scrunching my eyebrows together. 

"Not surprised." I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee. 

"Speaking of the devil." Lina says, and my eyes immediately dart around the room to find the devil in question. 

She's staring right at our table, making a beeline towards us as the clicks of her heels get louder and louder. 

Please don't sit here. 

She gives us a painfully fake smile, swinging the iPad in her hand back and forth. 

"Have you guys seen the edit I approved?"

Not even a hello?

"No, we haven't." Lina answers, and I stare at Valeria as she unfortunately sits across from me. 

She chuckles, practically shoving the IPad in our faces, showing off the edit. 

"It's perfect, isn't it?" She chuckles again, and I fight the urge to cover my ears instead of hearing her ear deafening, high-pitched laughter. 

"It's alright." I say, giving her a smile. My opinion really didn't matter to her anyway, the least I could do was pretend to like it. 

She nods, suddenly looking directly at me, glancing down at my laptop. 

"Still working on school? Can't even think of how someone like you can balance it with this busy job." She says, smile pulling at her lips. 

I raise my brows, looking at Lina and Luis for confirmation of what I had just heard her say. 

They give me the same 'what the fuck' look, and I look back at Valeria, giving her a fake smile. 

"I'm sure you couldn't think of it, Valeria." I say, keeping my retort minimal, I had to keep it professional, unlike her. 

She looks at me, no words are exchanged further as an almost minute long silence follows. 

She finally decides to leave after, sending both Luis and Lina a wave, doing her best to ignore me further. 

"She's so weird. Always on my ass about something." I mutter, starting to type again. 

"Don't think she's gotten over the fact that you were chosen to travel with the team this season." Lina says, patting my shoulder. 

"Well, too bad for her. Like I've got time for her petty conversations."

If I was being honest; I couldn't stand being within five meters of her. And with the amount of meetings we had together, made life a little more difficult than I would've liked. 

"Besides, you're coming with me. Why isn't she on your ass as well?" I ask Luis, seeing him shrug. 

"Because I'm handsome?" He smirks, starting to flex his arms. 

"She's annoying, but she doesn't have a vision problem." I hear Lina say, the both of us bursting out in laughter. Luis looking at us with the most defeated look ever, making us laugh even louder.

"Okay, alright, sorry. You're very handsome, we're just having a little fun. I promise." I say patting his hand, holding back more laughter as I dab away moisture from my eyes. 

I finish typing my current chapter after calming down, observing the text, and double saving the document before turning my laptop off. I look around for a second, seeing the players and staff chat and laugh together. The buzzing of my phone redirecting my attention back to our table. 

"y/n- your phone." Lina says, grabbing it to hand it to me. 

I grab it after thanking her, reading the caller ID. 

"Oh, it's my dad." I mutter. "I'll be back in a minute." I say, standing up to walk out of the cafeteria. I look around for a moment, then slide my finger to the right to pick up the call. 

"Dad?"

"y/n, how's work going?" He says, the sound of a paper shredder in the background almost sabotaging my understanding of his sentence. 

"Good, we're having lunch. How about you?" I reply, leaning against the wall. 

"Same old. I called to tell you- I'm not having dinner at home tonight. Ask Carmen to make something you want to eat." 

I hold back a sigh, closing my eyes in annoyance. He'd been working a lot since I was little, day and night. It had paid off very well. We had a big house and a beautiful backyard. He owned a law firm, in a nice area of the city and had a lot of clients.

His firm was also the legal representative of the club, being very close with President Pérez and manager Ancelotti themselves and other higher ups. 

Of course, I was still thankful, I never had to worry about necessities like food and clothes, they were always provided for me on a silver spoon. 

"Alright dad. See you tonight, love you." 

I hang up, shoving my phone into my back pocket, and walk back into the cafeteria.

"I'm going back to the office." I tell Lina and Luis, them looking up at me in concern. 

"Why? Did something happen?" Luis asks, fixing his dark, curly hair.  

"No, I just want to make sure everything is perfect for tomorrow." I force a smile, trying to cover up the fact that my mood was definitely ruined after that phone call. 

I grab my laptop, holding it in between my arm and chest as I start making my way out of the cafeteria. 

Not before I'm stopped by someone calling out to me. 

"y/n!" I hear, looking up and seeing Vini call me over, Rodrygo and sadly, Jude standing next to him. 

How did this communication even work?

I raise a brow, walking over to them. 

"What's with that face? Trouble with your boyfriend?" Vini says in Spanish, greeting me with a hug. 

"It's nothing like that! It was just my dad." I deny, laughing at him. My smile totally disappearing from my face when I make accidental eye contact with an irritated looking Jude next to Vini.

"Right, how's your dad? He hasn't been around lately." Rodrygo asks, greeting me as well. 

"Busy- you know how he is..." I reply, swatting my hand. "I'll try to convince him to visit." I smile. 

"Will you be coming with us to tomorrow's match?" Vini asks. 

"Oh yeah, I'll be joining you on all the matches this season. You guys got lucky this time." I joke, giving him a little wink. 

The two Brazilian men laugh, Vini patting my shoulder as I excuse myself to go up. 

I twist the key in the door lock, opening the front door to my house. The smell of spices and sauces filling up my nostrils. I scramble to take my shoes off, throwing my bag onto the floor and making a beeline to the kitchen area. 

"Aunty Carmen!" I exclaim, hugging her tightly. 

"Oh my girl!" She coos, squeezing me even tighter. 

"I missed you so much." I say, planting a kiss on her soft cheek, letting go of her. 

"Me too. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll have dinner." She says warmly, going back to stirring the food. 

Aunty Carmen was the lady who had been cooking for me and my dad since I was a child. Her food was finger-licking good, and I don't think I could ever survive without it. 

She'd partially raised me, alongside my biological aunt, whom I lived in the UK with for a couple of years. 

I had begged my dad to not send me to a boarding school, so he'd decided to send me off to live with my aunt, and made me attend an international school instead. A place, consisting of cultures and languages I always craved to be surrounded with becoming my second home. 

"When is your dad coming?"

"Oh no, my dad isn't coming for dinner." I explain, pulling out two spoons and two forks out of the cabinet and walking over to the dinner table. 

"He wasn't home last time either, why?"

"Too busy. You know how he is." I mumble, filling her glass with water. 

"I'm sorry, my girl." 

"It's fine- I'm used to it by now. You're here tonight at least." I beam, starting to dig into the food. 

"Aunty, you never disappoint!" I exclaim, shoving another spoonful of food into my mouth.

"Slow down! It's not going to run away from you." She fusses, taking a bite of the food herself. 

A comfortable silence falls in between us, the sound of our utensils clattering against the plates and bowls accompanied by the occasional comment about the taste of the food. 

I join her in cleaning up the table, placing the rinsed dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and putting  the leftovers into the fridge. 

"If you look closely, you can see the food I made for the rest of the week. Make sure you close the lids well, so it can stay fresh." She says, drying her wet hands on a kitchen towel. 

"Thank you." I say, giving her another hug. 

"Oh, you're leaving already?" I ask, watching her grab her handbag. It was a pretty brown bag, a birthday present from me a couple years ago. 

"I do sweetie. Take care of yourself." She says, pulling me into a hug. 

"-and lock your doors, don't open them for anyone." 

"You know I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty already! Besides, we have security cameras everywhere." I complain, folding my arms up to my chest. 

"You've grown up too fast." She says, pinching the fat of my cheek, making me whine at the pain. 

I sigh, a little sad as she opens the front door and walks out. I wave one more time, closing the door behind her and locking it as she had instructed. 

My dad had keys to get in when I went to bed anyway. 

I decide to get ready for bed, turning on the now full dishwasher, and going up to my room. Hoping everything will go smoothly as planned tomorrow.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: The Art of Letting Go

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Only know you love her when (she lets you) go

(In which a still very sadistic writer make things a lot worse but only so they can get a little bit better)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt with very little comfort

Words: 7.9K

TW: Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I know I'm very, very late with this and I love you all for being so patient. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but it is what it is. Logistical details are probably a little off but I need things to work for the plot, so try and ignore that. Per usual I did edit (very loosely and I'll probably go back over it later), there are probably typos anyways. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading lovelies and let's get a W this weekend. <3

December 2023

A week or so after they get back from the Cayman Islands, Azzi feels like she’s been sleep-walking through life, everything around her hazy and dull. She religiously sticks to a routine of eat-study-practice-sleep. Except well, sleep isn’t really sleeping. It’s her brain conjuring images of blonde hair and blue eyes and Azzi forcing herself to wake-up from a nightmare that used to be her favourite dream. 

She doesn’t tell anyone what happened, lying to herself it’s because it would be embarrassing and not because it would mean having to face the truth. Still, it doesn’t mean that her teammates can’t piece together little bits. There must be something quite sinister about the air around her, because none of her normally nosy and eager-to-help sisters try to weasel any information out of Azzi. They act like they always have, only sharing worried looks behind her back when the façade of i’m doing fine slips momentarily when she thinks no one’s watching. 

And then that façade goes to hell over the span of a couple of hours. 

It starts with the inevitable breakup with Zoe. At first Azzi avoids it, making up excuses as to why she can’t see her girlfriend. Selfishly, there’s a part of her that wants to keep Zoe, keep a girl who would never leave, never make her feel anything less than (or more than) just content. But it’s not fair, Azzi knows that, and it’s why she practises her it’s not you, it’s me speech to perfection in front of the mirror. When she goes to message Zoe that she's coming over, the text chain causes a pinch of guilt in her heart at the contrast between her girlfriend’s hopeful tone versus her own nonchalant one. And Azzi thinks that Zoe will never really understand just how similar the two of them are, stuck at wanting someone who would always let them down. Only, Azzi will let Zoe free but when it comes to her herself, she’s pretty sure she’s destined to be trapped forever. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that Azzi remembers the apartment in Storrs that she’d visited barely a handful of times a lot more than she remembers the apartment she’s currently in, the one that belongs to her girlfriend. Zoe sits rigidly on the couch with the same reserved, guarded expression she’s had since she’d opened the door, clearly aware of what was about to happen. Her foot taps incessantly as the silence between them drags on.

“You deserve better,” Azzi says finally, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor. 

“No,” Zoe’s voice is cold, “don’t say shit like that. It’s a cop out. It’s the shit people say to make themselves feel better-”

“Zoe-”

“Don’t be a fucking coward Azzi. Look me in the eye and say it, say exactly what you’re here to.”

Azzi doesn’t want to do any of that. She wants to crumble to the ground and let it swallow her until she’s buried so far away from the mess she’s created. But she owes Zoe this. When she does look at Zoe, there’s this look in the other girl’s eyes that Azzi had never thought herself capable of evoking in anyone and she has to swallow away the bile that rises in her throat, disgusted by her own self. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Azzi whispers. Her words linger in the air, like shrapnel after an explosion. Zoe flinches, a single tear trickling down her face. 

“There it is,” the Californian says quietly, the ghost of an ironic smile playing on her lips, “I knew it was coming but damn- there it is.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what-” Zoe cuts herself, “no actually don’t- don’t answer that. I think I know.”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, ready to confess, “I need to tell-”

“Please-”

“Z-”

“Please,” Zoe sobs, “please don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear it okay? I don’t- I don’t want to hate you Azzi. It’s too much and I don’t- I just- I’m so tired of feeling so much for you when you don’t- when you feel so little for me.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi counters helplessly, her words ringing hollow to her own ears. 

“Fucking hell you just ended it Azzi, you don’t have to pretend anymore. And it’s okay because I get it. You can’t feel any more than what little you do for me because- because you’ve already given the rest of it away. And it’s not- it’s not like I didn’t know you know? I only ever met you because you were crying over her. You only let me into your life because you missed her. And now you have her,” Zoe says wistfully. 

It’s terrible the way everything else becomes white noise as Azzi’s ear latches on the last sentence, a sentence that couldn’t be any further away from the truth. She was prepared for the accusations, for Zoe to hurl every curse word in the book at her, but this, the unintended reminder that she was giving up on soft, sweet, gentle Zoe for something that she didn’t have, hurts far more than any words could. 

“This isn’t about-” 

Zoe’s quick to cut Azzi off, pushing herself off the couch they had been sharing, trying to put even more space in between them, “please do not insult my intelligence by finishing that sentence. I deserve that much at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are because I know- I know who you are Azzi and I know you’re a good person and that’s why- that’s why I don’t wanna know okay? Whatever you did- whatever happened- just let me- just let me have this. Let me remember you as someone good- someone great,” Zoe pleads.

“If that’s what you want Zo,” Azzi answers weakly, the guilty clawing at her heart. She doesn’t think she deserves to be remembered like that, doesn’t think she’s worthy of being thought of with fondness, not anymore. 

Zoe doesn’t make any acknowledgement of Azzi having spoken as she starts to pace, “I should have known. You know the day I met her this summer, I got it- the appeal- I got it immediately. She has this aura, this charm. She just- she just fucking glows you know? And she’s just- she’s this huge entity and so are you and I’m just,” she lets out a hollow laugh as she shrugs,  “I’m just a girl from Stockton, California.”

“And you’re amazing,” Azzi puts up a hand when Zoe tries to cut her off again, “you are. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you did for me last year. You could have walked away that day and maybe- maybe one day you’ll think you should have. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Zoe. You do deserve better. It’s not a cop out. It’s the truth.”

Since she was younger, Azzi’s always hated endings. This time is no different. The bitter truth is that she probably won’t miss her girlfriend, but she will miss the friend that had gotten her through one of the toughest years of her life. Slowly, Azzi picks herself off of the couch and walks over to a still Zoe, squeezing her left hand once before heading towards the door. 

“Azzi,” Zoe calls out, just as Azzi has one foot out the door, “I hope it works out for the two of you. You and Paige always did just seem inevitable.”

***

She blames the fact she’s currently stuck in the terrible LA traffic, with the word inevitable ringing in her ears, for the way her fingers continuously flicker over the green call button under Paige’s name. Zoe saying her name had been the first time in a week that Azzi had even let herself, in consciousness at least, think of the blonde properly. And now that it had been unleashed, whispers of Paige, Paige, Paige echo through every crevice of skull. The pain and anger that she’d been trying to shield herself from, come barraging into her heart as she’s held captive once again by thoughts of her best friend. 

It would be a lie to say that Azzi hadn’t been hoping for a call or a text to come through. She’d waited two days with bated breath for a friendly quip that would lead them back to their safe haven of just pretend. Instead it was as if they were back to being who they had been before summer of 2022 all over again. Back to being nothing. But this time Azzi had been adamant that if Paige was going to cut her off again, she wouldn’t fight it, not this time. Apparently that resolve was never meant to last and Azzi feels a little pathetic with how desperately she needs to hear Paige’s voice, how desperately she wants to try again. 

The traffic clears just as she presses call and maybe that should have been a sign. Azzi’s not a bad driver per say, but as her dad always said, no one’s a good driver when they’re distracted. The phone rings for too long and she should take that as her next sign and accept it as Paige not wanting to talk, but she lets it continue to ring anyway, as she turns onto a more secluded road. And then-

“Hello,” the voice is unfamiliar and Azzi doesn’t really know Paige’s teammates, beyond Caroline, that well but she’s pretty certain this one doesn’t belong to any of them. 

“Hi uh- who is this?” she manages to get out as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Oh um- this is Rose, Paige’s friend” comes the reply, the word friend said with a sultry lilt and Azzi feels her skin prickle. Hang up. 

“Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” her tone is far more accusatory than she’d like it to be. 

“She’s in the bathroom but she told me to,” Rose answers defensively. 

Azzi hesitates, she doesn’t need to know more except, “does she know who called?”

Because surely if she did, if Paige knew it was Azzi on the other line, she wouldn’t let one of her likely random hookups answer the phone, surely Paige would know what it would do, how it would make her feel. 

“Uh yeah- I told her Azzi called and she seemed pretty sure she wanted me to pick up.”

Maybe Paige does know what it would do, does know how it would make Azzi feel, maybe that’s the whole fucking point. Through the phone she can hear quiet footsteps walking closer, towards Rose. When Paige is close enough that Azzi can make out the sound of her breathing, can almost picture the way her chest is heaving, that’s when the tears finally fall, blurring her vision. 

She doesn’t see the blinking headlights rushing towards her until it’s too late and then she’s swerving. The world around her erupts in motion and light and noise, everything spinning and spinning and spinning. For one moment, as she loses complete control of her car, Azzi thinks maybe this is it. And the most terrifying part of it, is that for a second, she’s not all that opposed to the idea of this being the end. It’s a singular image of her parents in her brain that has her regaining her senses and hitting the brakes as hard as she can. Her tires screech as her car barrels into a tree and her entire body jerks around in her car, her seatbelt leaving burn scars against her neck. Azzi feels her heartbeat going haywire, as everything comes to a halt. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rose’s panicked voice echoes. 

“What?” and there’s Paige and even in this wreckage, Azzi’s heart stutters at the sound of her best friend. 

“I think she crashed-”

“WHAT?” there’s frantic shuffling until, “Azzi? Azzi? Hello? Are you there? Fuck. Azzi are you okay? Please say something. C’mon Az. I know you’re there. Can you hear me? Please be okay. Azzi? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Azzi?”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth, trying to answer to the call of her name, but nothing comes out. She feels hot and cold all over at the same and she swears there’s a hand curled around her neck because she can’t fucking breathe. 

“Azzi,” Paige says again desperately, “please say something.”

“P-Paige,” Azzi finally manages to stutter, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. There’s blood rushing to her ears and everything around her feels hazy. 

“Azzi,” and that one syllable is wrapped in so much emotion, “I’m here okay, are you okay?”

No, Azzi thinks, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. 

“I c-can’t breathe. I think” she grasps at her neck, “I th-think I’m having a panic attack.”

Paige curses under her breath, “okay, okay alright listen to me breathe okay? And try to match it okay?”

“O-okay,” Azzi whispers, pressing her head to her steering wheel as she tries to mimic Paige’s exaggerated deep breaths on the other end of the line. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me Azzi, just keep breathing okay,” Paige’s voice is far calmer than she probably is in reality, “just keep breathing with me okay.”

Azzi closes her eyes as she feels her chest slowly start to loosen up and lets herself be immersed by Paige’s soothing words of comfort. And for a second, it almost feels as if her best friend is right there with her. For a second, Azzi imagines that they’re on a whole other planet, just them in their little world, like it always should have been, like she’d once been so sure it would be. It’s a beautiful dream that reality is quick to gatecrash. 

“Babe, is she okay?” Rose asks, and Azzi’s eyes fly open at the term of endearment. She’s not on a different planet. She’s alone. And Paige isn’t. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi breathes out and then more firmly, “I’m fine.”

“Thank God,” Paige lets out a sigh of relief before her tone turns sour “what the actual fuck Azzi?”

Azzi winces at the loudness, pretty sure she might have a concussion from the way her head had crashed back into her headrest as she’d crashed into the tree in front of her. 

“I’m fine,” she repeats assertedly, as everything around her slowly starts to make sense again. It’s not a lie really, at least not physically. There’s the potential concussion, and the litany of bruises she’s starting to feel all over her body but she’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong internally. Well except for her stupid fucking heart but it wasn’t the accident that had fucked that organ up. 

“You just crashed your fucking car, no you’re not fucking fine,” Paige yells, voice thick with tears. 

“What the fuck do you care?” Azzi bites back, “sorry I interrupted your fucking night Paige. I swear it won’t happen again.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything else, sitting deathly still for a second. And then she lets herself completely break apart. 

***

74 missed calls from Paige

did u go to the hospital 

pick up ur fucking phone 

dude

azzi

this is not the time for this stubborn bullshit 

PICK UP UR FUCKING PHONE 

AZZI 

just say ur ok at least

please 

called ur mom 

said u had a concussion and some bruising 

thats not too bad 

ur so fucking stupid 

it could be so much worse 

please pick up 

AZZI FUCKING FUDD PICK UP UR PHONE 

so u can call carol and not me ok 

thats just fucking perfect

dude i feel like an accident > stupid fights 

so maybe just pick up 

or call me back

u wanna play this stupid game fine 

ignore me for now

but i’mma be in dc for christmas

ur gonna have to talk to me 

i know where u live 

***

The box in Azzi’s arm feels freakishly heavy, like she’s holding the whole world inside of it. In a way, maybe she is. The walk up Paige’s dad’s driveway feels longer than it ever has and she’s fighting the urge to turn back with every step. As soon as she’d seen the vaguely threatening text message, Azzi had decided she would beat Paige to it. The night of the accident had put several things into perspective and Azzi was determined to finally grasp control of her own life. 

It hasn’t been that long since the Cayman Island and so it hasn’t been that long since Azzi’s seen Paige. But when the door opens and she’s face to face with her best friend, despite the dread and anxiety that’s drowning her heart, Azzi still feels that beat of it’s cold but you always make me feel warm flutter in her chest. Paige smiles and Azzi’s arms wobble, drawing the blonde’s attention to the box in her arms. 

“Still a couple of days till Christmas Az, a little early to give me my present,” Paige smirks lightly and Azzi feels a river of hot anger slide around her veins. After everything she’d put her through in the last couple of weeks, the fact that Paige could act so frivolous, as if they were still fine, makes Azzi see red. 

Her voice is icier than the sheet of frost on the ground when she replies, “it’s not a Christmas present.”

Paige’s eyebrows knit together questioningly, “then-”

“It’s all your stuff I had lying around,” Azzi cuts in, trying to keep her voice confident and stable. 

The smile disappears from Paige’s face as she studies Azzi's face, looking for some semblance of emotion beyond the blank stare. 

“What?”

“All the things you’ve left at my house over the years, a couple of t-shirts, a hat, a book and a couple other things, they’re in this box,” Azzi says pointedly. She tries to hand it over but Paige is quick to move away from it, staring at the offending object as if it’s a ticking time bomb. 

“What the actual fuck is going on Azzi?”

“I might have missed some things. Let me know if I have and I’ll mail them to you in the future,” Azzi recites clinically, keeping her demeanour stoic as possible “and of course I would like my things back as well. Not right now of course. You can mail them to me whenever it suits you.”

“Mail back your things? What? What the fuck are you going on about?” Paige asks, a bewildered expression taking on her face. She reaches out as if she wants to shake Azzi but seems to think better of it. 

Azzi doesn’t say anything, as she sidesteps Paige into the house, putting in the utmost effort to make sure no part of herself brushes up against the older girl, knowing the inevitable burst of electricity when they touch would be enough to break her resolve. She places the box of Paige’s stuff on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to Paige. 

“I’m giving you your stuff back,” Azzi repeats, “I’m giving you what you want.”

“What I want? When did I ask for my stuff back?”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, fighting desperately against the screams of you don’t want this in her own head, “I’m giving you a clean break Paige. I’m letting you go.”

Saying those words feels a lot like free-falling. Her stomach lurches at the way Paige’s features scrunch up in pain and she’d never meant to do that, but Azzi’s so tired. She’s so tired of this push and pull, the way they seem to hurt each other every fucking time, the way things get so close to going right and then go wrong any way. The bitter truth of life, Azzi has forced herself to admit, is that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, sometimes the darkness wins out anyway. 

“You think-,” Paige stutters, clutching at her chest, “you think this is what I want?”

“Well isn’t it?” 

“Of course n-”

“If I hadn’t called you that night would you have called me first Paige?  If I hadn’t gotten into that stupid accident, would you even have texted me ever again?”

Paige’s silence is an answer in itself . And although Azzi had known it, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that had posed the question hoping against hope that Paige would have answered it with a resounding yes of course. She thinks maybe she should be used to the singe of disappointment that burns her skin by now but she’s never been immune to Paige’s fire. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi says quietly, “I’m tired of running after you Paige. I thought I was done after the Cayman Islands but then I- I don’t know- I don’t know why I called you that night when you- you clearly didn’t want that.”

“Azzi c’mon-”

“It’s my fault really. Because you've always been clear about it and I- for some reason- I just don’t listen. You were clear with it when you told me to go to UCLA and get out of your life. You were clear when you didn’t want me to come into your air BnB. You were clear when you told me to get out of the bathroom last summer. And when you left that night-,” Azzi pauses as Paige’s eyes widen, the words catching in her throat, “when you were gone that morning- every time you didn’t call- every time you didn’t text- you were always clear about it Paige and I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“You’re being really fucking unfair right now,” Paige accuses, “you’re mad because I didn’t want to be your fucking side whore? I’m so sorry I had more self-respect than that Azzi.”

Azzi blinks rapidly, her face still completely neutral, “excuse me?”

“You wanna blame me for those first two things, fine. But you have a whole ass girlfriend and you wanted me to be what? Just a girl you can fuck occasionally because you feel like it? Who the fuck do you think I am? I deserve so much better than that.”

“I don’t-”

“You wanna know why I left that morning?” Paige asks icily, “I woke up and the first thing I saw is your girlfriend’s fucking i miss you text. All that shit you said to me when I kissed you in LA about not wanting to be one of my groupies or whatever but what did you want me to be Azzi?”

When they were young and naive, the largest fight they’d ever had was about whether or not one of them had cheated in a game of horse. The allegations of cheater from a 15 year old Paige had seemed massive back then, but they pale in front of the accusations of cheater from a 22 year old Paige. It’s not that Azzi thinks she’s some prime example of a good samaritan and she can deal with people thinking she’s not all that, but it’s different when it’s Paige, it’s different to know that Paige could ever think so low of her. 

“You really think I’d do that you? That I’d make you my sidepiece or whatever?”

“What else am I supposed to think about you fucking me while you have a girlfriend?” Paige asks exasperatedly and Azzi flinches at the repeated use of the profanity. 

“Had.”

“What?”

Azzi grips the hem of her shirt, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but Paige, “I had a girlfriend. Past tense.”

“You- you broke up with Zoe?” Paige’s expression morphs from anger to confusion before finally settling on realisation. 

“I never wanted you to be a side piece. You think I don’t know you deserve better than that?” Azzi rubs her temple, as she tries to keep herself steady on her feet, “I know seeing that text hurt you but it’s not like you didn’t know I had a girlfriend. But- but if you’d just waited for me to wake up, god if you’d just talked to me once instead of jumping to conclusions then-”

“Then what?” Paige breathes out and Azzi doesn’t miss the little spurt of hope that’s taken birth on the older girl's face. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Azzi shakes her head, “that’s also past tense now.”

The thing with Paige is that anger is her protective mechanism. When she gets a little close to losing control of her emotions, or feeling too much, it’s what she falls back on so it’s not surprising that her tone is harsh when she speaks again. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to guess you were gonna break up with your girlfriend Az c’mon,” Paige takes a step towards her, “I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

“I never asked you to read my mind. I just- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to just have a little faith in me- in us,” Azzi’s voice breaks on the last word. 

“That’s not fair. I was really fucking  hurt Azzi-” Paige begins, her voice pleading.

“And then you tried to hurt me back on purpose,” Azzi spits out as the façade of neutrality completely slips off, “you knew it was me calling and you had that girl pick up any way knowing exactly how it would make me feel.”

“Azzi,” baby blue eyes sparkle with tears and Azzi has to force herself to look away, because no matter how much she’s convinced that this is what needs to happen, seeing Paige break, will drown Azzi and she’s barely floating as it is. 

“I don’t enjoy hurting you Paige,” Azzi says softly, “and I don’t think you enjoy hurting me but for the last couple of years, I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing and I- I can’t do it anymore.”

It’s not something she’d ever admitted out loud, or even to herself, but once upon a time Azzi used to think her and Paige would have one of those stories, one of those soft, sappy fairytale-esque stories that had no chance of an ending that wasn’t happily ever after. And she hopes that maybe in another universe, maybe they did have that. Maybe in a universe where she chose UConn and things never went wrong in the first place. Maybe in that universe, they’re happy. But in this universe, they seem to be destined for misery. And Azzi thinks the saddest tragedy of it all, is that it feels like she’s ending a story that never even really got the chance to start. 

“So that’s it then, you’re walking away- you’re just- you’re fucking giving up?” Paige says bitterly, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and Azzi feels a flicker of annoyance light up against her ribcage. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” she accuses, “Is that not what you do? You walk away every. single. time. because you can’t deal with things getting just a little too fucking hard. And what? I’m just supposed to wait until you come back? Or chase after you like a pathetic little puppy?”

Paige flinches at the hardness in Azzi’s tone, mouth opening and closing but nothing escaping. 

“I’m so fucking tired of always being the one calling, the one showing up, the one trying. I’m so fucking tired of fighting for us when it feels like you’re fighting against me,” Azzi pauses,trying to blink away the tears she’d tried so hard to keep locked behind her eyelids, “if you wanna call that me giving up then okay, but I don’t think you realize just how fucking hard I want to hold on.”

Azzi’s not sure if it’s the way her voice cracks, or the absolute misery behind every word she says, but Paige's hard and cold expression is gone so fast it gives her whiplash. And then her Paige, the girl with the warm eyes and soft heart is back, looking at Azzi in a way that makes her want to believe in them all over again. Arms outstretched, Paige takes a step forwards and there’s nothing more Azzi wants then melt into them. It takes everything in her to step away instead. For a moment there’s nothing but them staring at each other in silence, a moment where Azzi tries to memorise everything about Paige just in case this is the last time. And then-

“What if,” Paige begins softly, “what if I entered the draft?”

Azzi looks at her in confusion, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“The Sparks have the second pick, it’s where I’m projected to go,” Paige bites at her lips, peering at Azzi through her eyelashes. 

The Sparks. The Los Angeles Sparks. 

“Is that what you want?” Azzi asks quietly, trying to prevent her brain from already coming up with dreams of stupid picnic dates at the park during sunset. 

Paige hesitates. And it’s enough for those dreams to crumble, because Azzi knows Paige just a little too well, knows exactly what that little bit of hesitation means. 

“I haven’t decided yet but if- if there was a reason that I should-”

“There isn’t,” Azzi says firmly, “it’s not what you want.”

“I don’t even fucking know what I want,” Paige argues and that doesn’t make it any better. 

“Then figure it out,” Azzi yells, frustratedly rubbing her hands over her face, “I won’t deal with you fucking resenting me and running away again in a couple of years- hell in a couple of months- because you regret your fucking decision.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Please just stop. It's done. I’ve made up my mind” Azzi begs, exhaustion flooding into her body, “just- just let this go please.”

Paige meets her eyes with a stubborn fire, “I don’t fucking want to.”

“Well tough luck because I do.”

“Azzi,” Paige pleads desperately, trying to block Azzi as she beelines for the door, but the younger girl is quick to push past her. 

“Goodbye Paige.”

***

December 2024 

azzi please just let me in 

ur parent are saying u dont wanna see me 

and i get it 

but i can fix this i swear 

i know u know im here

please fucking let me in 

i fucked up 

i know 

im so fucking sorry

but dude we can fix this

just 

can u just fucking let me in

i really wanna see u 

i really wanna talk 

can we just fucking talk 

please 

merry christmas az

u know what fuck u actually 

didnt mean that sorry 

i was just mad 

u make me really fucking mad 

christmas breaks almost over 

i have to go back soon and ik u do too

we should talk before that 

ur so fucking stubborn 

but so am i

im not giving up 

i won’t 

January 2024

hi 

i miss you

ur really fucking annoying

not texting me back

but its fine

i’ll just fucking spam 

i had an ok day today 

practice was kinda ass 

not me tho

i was great

as always 

bet i made more threes than you did 

bro im watching ur game

and

what the fuck kinda airball did u just throw up 

get in the gym az jfc 

oh that was a good pullup

not better than mine

but decent 

been a fucking month azzi 

just fucking call me back 

or text me idk 

i miss u 

sooooooooooo

hows ur day

good? good.

hows mine?

oh kinda shit 

lets see

we lost in front of all these uconn legends

to their fucking rival 

everyones saying uconn fucking sucks 

some people are saying i suck

they might not be completely wrong 

now would be a good time to reply az 

like maybe make me feel better

fuck u actually 

what the fuck am i doing 

idk if u even read these 

February 2024

idk maybe i should stop 

like maybe only fucking psychos do this 

but idk bro 

i feel like ur gonna text me back eventually 

well sc was a shit show 

i mean we knew it but holy shit 

i really wanna talk to you about it

it’d mainly just be me fucking yelling 

and u giggling 

fuck i miss ur laugh

i miss you

idk if u just ignore these

so idk if ur gonna even see this 

but 

i wanted to tell you first 

before u saw it from somewhere else 

im staying at uconn 

u were right

i didnt want to leave yet 

i want my 4 years

but 

just dont think it means i didnt mean what i said

that i dont wanna be in la with u

i do

its not about that

i just need to do whats best for me

and thats staying here 

fuck

i get what u meant now

u didnt pick ucla over me

fuck fuck fuck 

im sorry az

is this how u felt 

when i didn’t text u back 

because it’s actually fucking hell 

i miss you so fucking much dude

i’m so sorry 

i’m really fucking sorry azzi 

for all of it

please just call me back

March 2024

last pac-12 tournament mvp!!

dude i’m so proud of you

we also won 

idk if u heard 

it wasnt easy either 

everything just always fucking goes wrong 

fucking pisses me off 

but oh well 

u know i dont even like texting 

idk how many messages ive sent u 

its gotta be hundreds atp 

insane shit on my part 

tf is wrong with me 

did u see the bracket

see u in the final 4 azzi 

April 2024 

i fucking told u 

i told you id see u in the final four

fucking meant it

fuck 

gonna kick yalls ass

revenge szn

we’re built different in march

cleveland here we fucking go 

but also

cant avoid me anymore 

i cant fucking wait to see you az  

***

UConn 87     UCLA 84 

There’s six seconds left to go and UCLA has control of the ball. The game today had been completely different from the on down in the Cayman Islands. That one had featured a UCLA team that had dominated from start to finish versus a UConn team still reeling from multiple injuries. This time around, UCLA seemed to have lost some of their shine and UConn had been on a tear. She would never give Paige the satisfaction of knowing it but her stupid goading, her incessant smirking because UConn seemed poised to win handedly, had gotten in Azzi’s head for most of the game. The fourth quarter had seen UConn enter with a 11 point lead that had held study until the last two and a half minutes when something had finally clicked for Azzi. 

“Told you, you should have fucking come to UConn,” Paige had sneered while casually dribbling the ball and that had been enough to break Azzi out of whatever funk she’d been in. All of her anger and frustration at Paige seemed to culminate into that one moment as she’d swiped the ball straight from Paige’s hands, narrowly avoiding a foul. An easy steal-and-score layup was followed by two signature three pointers, created by her team’s defence, and suddenly the lead had been cut down to three. On the other side, Muhl had been called for an offensive foul and immediately Coach Close had called for a timeout to advance the ball. 

When both teams get back on the court, Azzi, with her competitive streak in full control of her emotions, relishes in the way Paige’s face is contorted up in frustration. But it isn’t just this game that has Azzi irritated. Paige had been relentless since both teams had landed in Cleveland in trying to corner Azzi. She’d known it was gonna happen since she’d read the text but still Azzi had hoped that maybe the blonde would just let it go, would understand just how much Azzi didn’t want to have to deal with this. Because seeing Paige hurts. All the missing and yearning of the past few months seemed to have blended into this ball of tight hot pain that had burst the minute Paige had smiled at Azzi. She knows Paige means well, and it’s taking everything in her to ignore the part of her that’s secretly enamoured by how hard the point guard is trying finally, but Azzi just can’t do it again. She can’t let Paige in again and then spend every other second scared that Paige will run away again. 

The whistle blows and Charisma gets ready to inbound the ball. The play call had been to just get it to Azzi but it’s clearly one that UConn had anticipated, because she finds herself swarmed with Paige and Muhl both trying to make sure she doesn’t get the ball. Instead, it’s Kiki who gets the ball and the countdown starts, as Azzi fights to get herself free, running off of screens, to get herself open on the three point line. It takes too much time and they don’t have any more timeouts left. Kiki throws it inside to Lauren who misses the layup but gets her own rebound and somehow the ball finally finds its way into Azzi’s hands. And with barely a second left to go, and Paige’s hand firmly in her face, Azzi throws up a prayer. The arena goes deathly silent as the ball hits the back and then circles every inch of the rim before spilling over the edge and falling straight into Edwards’ hands. 

The crowd erupts in deafening cheers as the UConn bench rushes to the court, jubilantly hugging each other with Paige in the middle. Azzi blinks rapidly, refusing to be caught shedding a single tear on camera. Her teammates look distraught and Azzi feels disappointment curling into every crevice of her skin she’d almost had it. In the grand scheme of things she knows that, that shot would have only guaranteed overtime and not a win but still, it wouldn’t have meant a loss. And she knows this one isn’t completely on her either but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel the burden of it on her shoulders any way. 

But despite it all, seeing Paige’s bright smile stretch all over her beaming face as she celebrates with her team, soothes the sting of the loss just a little bit. Azzi still remembers late night calls and Paige’s broken voice too well, her brain imprinted with the misery of a girl who had just wanted to play the sport she loved and couldn’t. And even if everything between them resembles the remnants of an earthquake, Azzi can’t help but be just a little bit happy for Paige. 

The handshake line is better this time around with no one being unnecessarily hostile. One team is too happy to care and when Muhl briefly hugs her, Azzi can’t help but be a little shocked by the affection. Her team is too despondent to be mad, and Angela briefly nods at Paige when shaking her hand, and gets a reassuring grin in return. Azzi has to force herself not to run away, if only for decorum’s sake, once she and Paige finally get to each other. Trying to keep herself steady, she reaches out her hand to counter Paige’s outstretched arms. The smile falls a little bit from Paige’s face as a more resigned expression takes its place. 

“Good game Bueckers,” Azzi manages to muster out. 

The last name stings but Paige does her best to not let it show, “good game Az.”

***

When there’s a knock on the door to her hotel room a little bit after 10pm, Azzi knows exactly who it is. The look that Charisma gives her as she goes to open it, suggests that she does too. 

“Oh thank fucking god, I thought maybe y’all left already,” and there it is, Paige voice echoing through her room and from where she’s perched on the edge of bed, her feet dangling over the side, Azzi catches a brief glimpse of the UConn point guard. 

“Had a little bit of a transportation issue. We’re not leaving til tomorrow morning,” Charisma explains, “what are you doing here Paige?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously at the doorway, peering over Charisma’s frame in the doorway to catch sight of Azzi, “can I talk to Azzi?”

“First you kick my ass in the final four, and now you wanna kick me out of my own room?” Charisma asks, voice light but there’s an edge of seriousness to it. 

“I-uh-” 

“Az,” Charisma turns to Azzi with a questioning look, and Azzi sighs at having all the attention on her, “you wanna talk to her?”

Say no. Say yes. Her head fights with itself. And for the last few months, Azzi’s done well with listening to the logical part of her brain, diligently sticking to letting go. But that had only been easy to do because Paige hadn’t actually been there. Now that she is, with bright hopeful eyes fixed on Azzi, well, this time the emotional side wins out. She nods her head in yes at Charisma and Paige seems to glow all over. 

“You’re lucky it’s me and not Angela or Kiki or any of the other girls,” Charisma warns, “but I swear to god Bueckers if I come back and there’s a single tear-”

“Then you have my permission to fucking murder me,” Paige vows, her face a paragon of sincerity. 

Charisma nods once, stepping aside to let Paige in. The Bruin’s point guard looks at Azzi once more for confirmation and then, satisfied by the small smile Azzi shoots at her, she leaves the room, letting the door shut behind her. And then it’s just Paige and Azzi and the myriad of unspoken thoughts that seem to always linger between them. 

“Hi,” Paige says softly. 

Azzi stares up at her with tired eyes, “shouldn’t you be celebrating or something?”

“Still one more game to go. Gotta lock in for that first.”

“Then go do that. What are you doing here?”

Paige flinches at the harsh tone and Azzi feels a wave of guilt come over her. She doesn’t mean to be so hostile but she’s scared that if she gives in just a little, all of her will go tumbling down. 

“Sunday is the most important game of my life,” Paige says quietly. 

“I know- I know it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Paige nods, as she takes a step forward, hesitating for a second, before she drags a foot stool over, so she can sit right in front of Azzi, “will you stay for it?”

“That’s not-,” Azzi sucks in a deep breath, her senses muddle by having Paige so close to her again, “I thought I was clear about- about us.’

“You were but I thought I was clear with my texts,” Paige counters. 

“Paige please.”

“I just-,” Paige pauses, leaning forward and staring intently at Azzi, “I don’t know how the national championship is gonna go. I don’t know if we’re gonna win or lose but I just- I know that no matter what happens, I want you there. Because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. I just- I just want you there. With me. Always.”

Everything else floats away and for a moment, all Azzi knows is Paige, and the warmth that reverberates through her body at the earnestness in those words. If she could, she’d capture that feeling in a bottle and keep it forever. Because moments are fleeting. And when her brain catches up to her heart, and that voice in her head is back to echoing it won’t last, Azzi feels cold all over again. 

“You don’t believe me,” disappointment echoes in Paige’s voice; she’s always been a little too perceptive of Azzi’s emotions, “you think I don’t mean it?”

“I think you mean it now. I don’t think you’ll mean it forever,” Azzi shrugs. 

Paige is quiet, nerves on full display, as she cautiously reaches for Azzi’s hands with both of her own, an audible sigh of relief floating out of her lips when Azzi lets her. 

“I know I fucked up,” she begins quietly, thumb caressing Azzi’s palms, each trace sending jolts of electricy through the younger girl’s body, “like really fucked up and I get why you think that. I get why- why you’re so scared to believe me. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

A teardrop rolls down Paige’s cheek, falling onto their intertwined hands, and Azzi feels herself flinch, her own eyes beginning to glisten. 

“If I could go back in time, I’d change so many fucking things. I’d go back to the beginning- back to your room the night before you went to LA and- and I’d tell myself to shut the fuck up. I’d tell you that I supported you- that I understood that you weren’t choosing UCLA over me- and I’d- I’d tell you that it didn’t matter how many fucking miles away from me you were- we’d survive it. But I can’t- I can’t change the past. I can’t change that we fought. I can’t change that- that I was a fucking idiot for ignoring you for a year. I can’t change that I was a dumbass for leaving that morning.”

Tears are freely streaming from both of their eyes now as they grip each other’s hands tightly. There’s something cathartic about finally being able to cry, about finally being able to mourn the loss of what could have been together.And it feels a little bit like healing. 

Paige looks up at Azzi through watery eyelashes as she continues to speak, her voice wrecked with emotion, “and I’m not gonna make promises about how I’ll never do shit to hurt you again because god knows I can be really fucking stupid.”

They let out simultaneous giggles at that and Azzi can feel something in herself unravelling. 

“But what I can promise is that if you let me, every day- every fucking day that I live- I will try. To not hurt you. To make it up to you. To fix this. To fix us. And I can promise, that I will never ever fucking run away from you again. I know- I know it’s gonna be hard but I swear- I fucking swear- that I will stay right here and face it with you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers helplessly. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear and it’s too much. The voices in her head are too loud again, screams of she’ll hurt you, she always does, let her go colliding with shouts of it’s Paige, it’s your Paige, hold on to her. 

“You said- you said you were tired of fighting alone but you never- you never have to do that again because- because I’m here now. Fuck- Azzi I’m here. And I know- I know there’s so much we have to talk about and so much we still have to fucking deal with. But we can do that- we can- we can deal with anything. Because it’s us. Paige and Azzi. We can do anything. Together.”

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi’s, pulling their interlocked hands to her chest. They’re breathing in sync and Azzi can feel the thrum of Paige’s heart beat against her fingertips. Azzi’s eyes close of their own accord, as Paige’s lips brush over hers, her next words coming out in a breathless whisper. 

“Believe in me- believe in us just one more time, please.”

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Potential TW ::: Difficulty conceiving. & for my vomit-sensitive friends, here's a mildly changed version: PUKE FREE EDIT

A/N ::: I am so tired tonight that this was not super proofed. This was an ask that came via my messages. They wanted a story with the spicy and the sweet parts of Kats & F.reader tryin' for a baby. I hope it has all the elements you wanted and that you like it!

C/W ::: Aged up Kats x f.reader, several mentions of vomiting & other facial fluids being discharged (snot, tears, puke). Oral M->F Quite a bit of P->V. Lovey dovey stuff, sweet moments between 2 people who just want a freakin' baby. Ok? 😭

WC ::: 4,923 (Jesus christ, I'm so sorry. This totally got away from me and I don't even know how.)

"Hey babe, it's me." Katsuki said in his usual growly voice. "I guess you're still at work or somethin'. Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night. Also, I'been holdin' back. So, be ready for me. I love you, call me if ya want."

Katsuki was out of town on a job. He's been gone for almost a week now, the longest you two have been apart since you got married, almost 2 years ago. You missed him, sure. But when he came home, stomping through the entryway, yelling for you, it was the best feeling to be wrapped up in his arms and smooshed into his chest.

The two of you have been leaving yourselves open to having a baby for about 4 months now. It hasn't been constant trying, but the longer it goes that you're not getting pregnant, the more you feel like you're needing to take this more seriously. You started reading up on the most productive positions to get the result you're looking for, studying what you can do before and after you do the deed. How to check your basal temperature. When doctor intervention becomes more than a discussion and an absolute necessity.

The phone beeps, alerting you to your missed call and voicemail. "What ... oh, damn it." You listen to the message Katsuki left you and couldn't help the soft pink blush that spread over your face and chest. No man had ever made you feel the way he has. You had been pretty reserved until he helped you tap into your inner slutty girl. It sounds bad, but you've not looked back once since he brought you out of your little sexual shell. And why should you? Every time you're with him you swear it's the best sex you've ever had. Point being, you got really lucky to have him love you and be able to love him.

Pushing #1 on speed dial, you hear the other line ringing and start praying to whatever gods would listen to you that he'd answer his phone.

"Hey brat. Y'ignorin' me now or some shit like that? The fuck ya think ya are?" You could hear him choke out a laugh. The background noise was almost louder than he was.

"You know it, you caught me. Trying to ignore you. What're you gonna do about it?" You giggled when you heard his breath hitch in his throat. Your voice got low and breathy, "You gonna punish me, hm? Good luck catching me, Kats."

The phone crackled a few times before you heard him, "Hey! Y'there? Babe!? Goddamn it, this shit ass fuc---" and then you heard nothing.

"K-Kats? Hello? Are you ... are you there? Oh." You tossed the phone on the couch and pouted. "Things were just about to get good, too." You whined to the cat. But you knew they didn't care. They were Kats' anyway. They merely tolerated you until they were hungry and then they were your biggest fan.

A chime rang out into the quiet room and you pounced on it. A text from Katsuki, "Sorry, shit reception here. I'll try to call you from the hotel later. XXX"

It was about 6pm. Too early for bed, too late to go anywhere. So you curled up on the couch and watched your wedding video. You laughed and cried about how stupid you felt for missing him so much. He's only been gone a week and he'll be home tomorrow. Less than 24 hours and you would be together again.

You woke up to the sun forcing its way through the edges of the window coverings. "He's coming home today! He ... is finally coming home today!" A contented sigh heaved its way from your chest as you stood and stretched the uncomfortable position you slept in from your body. And then immediately a wave of nausea washed over you. "The f-," you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom. Lifting the toilet lid, you took pause and started praying that you wouldn't puke. "Mmm ..." Your eyes roamed to the bathroom cupboard. The nausea faded and soon your body followed your eyes' lead and you started to crawl to open the door and pull out a pregnancy test.

You peed on the plastic receptacle and set the timer you'd bought specially for the bathroom, only to hurry up and wait for the next 3 minutes.

"Oh." You tried so hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in the hope that all of your fun and hard work had finally paid off. But it still hurt. It always hurt. It was a relief though, that Katsuki wasn't here to have to go through this again. He always somehow got more excited than you at the prospect of you becoming parents. 'There's plenty uh’time, ma,' he always says to you whenever the result is another negative.

It would be several hours before he'd be home, so you put yourself together and set out to grocery shop. You decided to stop by your favorite little boutique and look around at the lingerie. Maybe that would help cheer you up and raise moral to romp around with your husband. You laughed at the stupid thought. It was always fun to be with Katsuki.

You managed to knock all of your tasks out in a couple of hours and drove home to get stuff put away. You still wanted to shower, put on the new lingerie you bought and figure out what to do for dinner. Take-out was calling your name tonight.

In the shower, you started to think about how much you loved Katsuki. And a familiar, warm, tingly feeling started to bloom in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you began rubbing your thighs together trying to alleviate the pressure - however pleasant it might be - building there. It was a dangerous game you were playing here. If you rubbed them too much, you know you'd get beyond frustrated and have to take care of this on your own. And there was nothing you wanted more than for him to be the one to alleviate this pent up tension in your body. Seeing as he was the one causing it, it only seemed fair.

Hurrying to finish washing up, you managed to get out of there with only a little bit of lingering agitation. Perhaps agitation was too strong a word. But you missed him so much there was no other word you could think of to replace it.

All wrapped up in a towel, you went to your room and looked over the clothes you had laid out for tonight. The dress you chose was newer, you picked it up a month or so ago, but haven't had the chance to wear it. It’s so new that he hasn't even seen it on you. The lingerie was a strappy black 1 piece and it looked so confusing to you. But you wanted to look nice for him. You knew he would love it for the whole 30 seconds it was on you before he tore it off. Yet you couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about his homecoming.

It all felt so new to you for some strange reason.

His Jeep pulled into the driveway and your heart all but stopped beating. Your face got hot and you felt like you were going to puke again. "Jesus, calm yourself, y/n. You're married for Christ's sake. Have been for over 2 years. He is your husband. He already loves you." But you didn't believe a word you said to yourself.

You ran to the bedroom to take one last quick glance at your appearance. Smoothing down the dress at your stomach, you noticed it didn't sit quite like it did when you first bought it. You just chalked it up to a little bit of stress eating with Katsuki being gone, and you trying to stay cool about (not) getting pregnant. It just caught up to you. No matter. He's home.

The front door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps. Music to your ears. "Babe? 'M home. Get yer ass ov-", You peeked your head out of the bedroom and gave him a sassy smile. "There you are, fuck, missed you so much. Don't move." He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and walked toward you like he was hunting you. Like if he moved to quickly you'd get startled and run away from him. Little did he know that it would take a lot more than him running at you to make you even flinch.

"I missed you too, Kats. So much." You whispered as he got closer. He reached out for you and pulled you flush against him, his mouth immediately finding yours. His lips were so soft and warm and he smelled so good. You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him deeper, and you let your tongue brush his bottom lip. He growled and held you tighter.

"Fuck, y’taste so good. Yer gonna kill me. I can't wait for you any longer. All of you. Every part of you." He kissed your cheek and then your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth. You moaned and ground your hips into his. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against you made you ache with need.

"Oh God. Please. I need you so much." Every brush of his fingers against your body left a trail of raised, peach fuzz hairs in their wake. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath from his lips on your skin. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with love and lust. "I love you so much, babe."

"I love you too, Katsuki." Your voice was breathy and quiet, almost like you were afraid to say it.

He leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more heat and intensity. His hands found their way to your ass and he squeezed, eliciting a whimper from your lips. "Let's go to bed." He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

You walked in and he pushed you onto the bed. You squealed and giggled as you bounced. He stood over you and started to unbutton his shirt. His abs and pecs were on display for you. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his muscles moving as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. He moved to unbuckle his belt and you got a little nervous. He was so hot and you felt like you couldn't keep up with him. But he always managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

As he took his pants off, you got up and stood in front of him so he could unzip the dress. "You make this dress look so fuckin' beautiful, babe. Goddamn. So sexy. But y'know, 's much as I love this, 'm dying to see what's underne- Hoh fuck. Th- you- fuck that's hot. This new?" He asked as he covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head slowly.

"You like it?" You blushed hard.

"Do I fuckin' like it. C'mere. Fuckin' c'mere and I'll show you just how much I like it." He pulled you close and kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. You could feel him hard and throbbing against your lower stomach. It was driving you wild.

He turned you around and began to kiss your shoulders. He moved the straps of the lingerie down and bit your skin gently. "Ah! Katsuki, please. Please touch me. I need you."

"Patience. G’na take my time with you. Got about 6 days to make up for, darlin'. Lemme have this. Lemme have you."

He turned you back around and kissed you deeply. He held you close and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I am so glad you're home, Kats." You whispered while you pulled him to the bed.

You laid there and let him take over, let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to drive you crazy. He kissed every inch of your body, making sure to pay extra attention to your most sensitive parts.

"You work out this week or somethin'?" He asked between kissing your hot skin. He moved down to your belly. "Fuck, you're just so ..." he growled against your skin as he breathed you in. "Your tits look fantastic. You're so ... gah ... I dunno. You're just so soft." He ran his hands over your curves and squeezed your hips.

You pulled his hair and guided him to your core. "Katsuki, need ... need your mouth." He obliged and licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and you jumped back. "Hohmygod, Kats! Fuck!!"

"S'sensitive for me," he dove back in and started to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around it and then flattening it and moving it side to side, "Fumkin' lub et." You felt like you were going to burst. The feeling was overwhelming and you felt yourself get close to the edge faster than you could ever remember.

"Katsu- kugh, ohmygod, I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." You grabbed his head and pushed him further into you. He moaned and his hands dug into your thighs as he kept working your swollen cunt.

"Cum for me, baby. Show me how fuckin’ hard y’can cum for me. Lemme see that pretty pussy cum for me." He moved back down and started sucking and licking your clit again, his fingers sliding inside you and hitting that spot you love so much.

Your whole body tensed up and you felt yourself explode all over his fingers and tongue. "Katsuki!!!" You screamed and bucked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your skin as you rode out your pleasure against his face and hands. You didn't know what you were rubbing yourself against but there was no part of you that could stop it from happening.

"G'girl. Fuck, you taste s'good, babe. Kinda diff’rent. More tart. Lemony." He kissed your thigh and then crawled up to kiss you. "Gonna fuck a baby into you now." He smiled down at you, much more sweetly than his intentions actually were and held your legs open so he could slide himself inside you.

"Mmmm, yes ... please, want you … in me." You whined as he started to push himself in. He was big, you were used to it. But tonight you needed a minute or two to adjust to his size. It felt like you were clenching down on him, almost purposely. Making it more difficult for him to push himself entirely inside of you. 

"Jesus fuck, you sure you weren't doing some pussy push-ups r'somethin'? You're so tight, babe. Feels so fuckin' good. But … Jesus."

You couldn't control your laughter at him calling kegel exercises 'pussy push-ups'. It was so stupid, but it made you feel warm and loved that he cared enough to notice things like that. "I've been practicing, yeah." You smirked and he leaned in and kissed you again.

"Good. So fuckin' good. Now, g'na fuck you 'til you can't stand it. I'm gonna cum in that hot pussy and make you the sexiest ma on the face of the planet." He growled against your lips as he started to move inside you.

You lost track of time and your body just reacted to him. He was rough and tender. Everything you needed and more. The two of you singing this song of moans in unison sounded better than any of your favorite songs ever had. His grunts and growls filled the room, as he fucked you harder and harder, so too, did your moaning and muttering of how good he felt get louder.

"Kats ... gonna cum again. Pleasepleaseplease ... you gotta cum first! It w- oh god - it works better if you cum first ... I think! Hurry up!" You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you. You could feel your walls tightening and pulsating around his cock and it was the most exquisite feeling.

"Bah, fuck, I'm close babe. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck, gonna fill you up with my cum." He grabbed your legs and pushed them back so your knees were against your chest and your ankles were at his ears. He held onto the back of your legs and pounded into you with all the strength he had left in him.

"Yesyesyes! Katsuki! Cum in me!" You were on the edge of your orgasm and you couldn't hold it at bay any longer. You felt the hot wetness of his seed filling you up and you let yourself go, your pussy clenched around his cock.

He stayed inside you for a minute or two, panting and kissing your forehead. Droplets of sweat fell from his face to yours. It was disgustingly intimate. You had never felt closer to him. Physically or emotionally.

"I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you." You whispered back.

And with that, he rolled off of you and snuggled up against your back, his hand resting on your stomach. The two of you fell asleep a short time later. Still happily tangled up in one another.

The next morning you awoke to Katsuki gently rolling his cock against your ass. You turned your head as best you could to see him, but when you managed to, you saw that he was still fast asleep. It didn't diminish the arousal that began to creep its way through your body, though.

You rolled over and kissed his face, whispering sweet nothings to him as you tried to wake him. "Kaaats, you wanna go again?" Running your hand down his chest and stomach, stopping about halfway down his happy trail, he opened his eyes slowly and gave you a half smile that looked so sexy on him.

"Mornin' babe. Wha' was I doin'?" He asked, looking down at his erection. "Ah. Was havin' a really ... really good dream 'bout you. Wan' me to show ya what we were doin'?" He flopped onto his back and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his waist. "Y'so fuckin' wet already. Damn woman. You could put out a fire with that pussy. Hm-hm. Let's start one first though, yeah?" His hands dug into the plush of your hips and pushed/pulled you over him.

Your cunt wrapped so perfectly around him made him let out the most guttural of moans that caused you to clench around nothing. But he felt it and moaned again. It was becoming a vicious little cycle: He'd moan, your body would react, so on and so forth.

He pulled you up, grabbing underneath your ass and lifted you so you were hovering just over his cock. You rolled your head forward to look at him as you slid down, putting just the head inside of you.

"Don't be a fuckin' tease." He growled at you and tried to pull you down, his cock twitching at the denial of the possibility of complete envelopment. "Fucking hell, you're so bratty. Gonna make you pay for this," he laughed.

"Sorry, can't hear you over how good just the head of your cock feels while I'm bouncin' on it." You smirked at him as you wiggled your hips side to side.

He reached up and grabbed your neck, pulling you down to him as he thrust up into you. "I said, don't be a fucking tease," he hissed out through a clenched jaw.

You felt your eyes roll back and your body tense up as he filled you completely. It was almost too much to handle. "Katsu ... ki ... ah, fu-ughh, fuck! Don't stop!" You couldn't hold on anymore. You ground your hips against him as you came, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly he couldn't help but follow you over the edge.

All of a sudden, you stopped riding out the last waves of your orgasm. Sitting on top of him still, you put your hand over your mouth and you looked down at him with pure panic in your eyes. "Hmph ..." you shook your head when he asked if you were ok. "Hmphhuh," you gagged again. He helped you off of him and all but dragged your post-o, jellied, naked body to the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet for you.

"Y'fuckin' sick'er somethin', babe? Got the flu? What the hell's goin' on?" His brows furrowed and he scowled at you. You knew it was out of concern, not frustration.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself after something so icky. Hating yourself for doing this right now. Right after such an intimate moment. While he was standing there, staring at you. Puking your guts out. Naked. "Don' knoooohhhh fuck, leave, Kats. Get out! Ple-!"

He squatted down next to you and held your hair back with his right hand and rubbed your back with his left. "'M not fuckin' leavin' you. Not for pukin', not for fuckin' nothin'. Y'fuckin' hear me? Better or worse. Sickness and health and all that other shit. Just shut up and finish. 'L be right here for ya."

The amount of fluid that left your face was disgusting. You'd never had such floodgates open like this before. Puking, crying, snot running from your nose. You were an actual mess. But he stood by you through all of it.

"Hey, babe ... d'ya ... ah shit. D'ya think yer pregnant?" Katsuki asked as you stood from the floor, moving slowly toward the sink to wash your face off. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable. And it killed you that you had to tell him you weren't.

You leaned over the sink, your face in your hands, and started crying. "I ... oh, Kats. I'm ... I'm not. I took a test a couple of days ago. I didn't w-", his hands on your back silenced you. They were, to date, the most important hands in the world to you. They were strong. They were soft and warm and they are all encompassing. If there were any kind of god, you would live out the rest of your days under his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't want you carryin’ this all by yourself, y/n. What we don't succeed in doing together, we share the hardships and overcome that ... together. I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I shouldn'ta left ya for so long." He spoke to you so quietly. Like his words would be the thing that finally throws you over the edge. The thing that finally breaks you.

"Maybe I ate something." You ran your forearm across your dry lips and hobbled back to the bed to bury yourself in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I won't do that again, promise." He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and brushed the hair from your face.

"G'na get you some 7-up 'n a cold washcloth. Be right back, babe." You watched him walk out of the bedroom and turn down the hallway. His butt jiggling ever so slightly. It made you smile. And it made you feel something else.

"The hell ...?" You sat up in bed and realized that you were horny. Again. Katsuki came back a minute later with what he promised you. Something to drink and a cold, wet cloth for you to put on your face. Smiling as he handed you this stuff, you pulled him in close to you and kissed him on the cheek all the way down to his neck.

"Oh, babe. Yer jus' so ... hah. No matter what. Even with your hair matted to your face and your eyes puffy and red. I love you." He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"Don't say it." You smiled at him. It was almost like you knew what he was going to say. And you couldn't bear to hear it. Not right now. You had no idea where you two stood in that department. You weren't ready to admit that to each other. Not yet. Not right now.

He smiled back and laid down next to you, spooning you from behind. He ran his hand along your waist and stomach, over and over. It was relaxing. And it was a little bit arousing, but you managed to keep yourself at bay. You had just thrown up, after all.

"I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I can't give us the baby we want. I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken." You choked on your words as tears started to well in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He shifted behind you and held you tighter. "Babe, you're not broken. 'Sides, who says it ain't me? Maybe we should make a doctors appointment, yeah? Get my count tested and all that shit. Whatcha say?"

You sniffed and wiped your face with the washcloth. It felt good against your hot face. "You - Kats, you'd do that? You'd have your sperm count checked?" Rolling over to face him, you took his face in your hands and held it there while the two of you just stared at each other.

"Fuckin' never said I wouldn't! Course I will. 'F we ever wanna get to the bottom of this, we hafta explore every possibility, right?" He ran a rough finger along your cheek to collect the freshly fallen tears and wipe them on the sheets. You made an ick face at him and he told you to pipe down, they need to be changed anyway after the night you two just had on them.

***

A couple of weeks past and he had his appointment with the fertility specialist where they ran a count on Kats. They called and said his sperm was 'abnormally high and active'. Their exact words were, "We have never seen anything like it in our careers." He didn't shut up about it for 3 days.

This left you in a fog. Surely, you were the reason you two couldn't conceive. It made you feel like absolute shit. No matter what he said to you, it didn't lift the guilt you were trying to carry all on your own. You thought he shouldn't have to hurt when he wasn't the problem. This complex was exhausting you and you could feel yourself slipping deeper into sadness.

You went to the clinic at the end of the day that Friday, the last appointment they had for the week. They drew your blood and told you they would be in touch on Monday or Tuesday about the next step after they had a chance to evaluate the sample for any obvious

It was Saturday morning and you were both sitting on the back porch eating breakfast when your phone rang. "It's the clinic, Kats. You answer. I don't want to talk to them. They probably found a plastic bag where my uterus is supposed to be." You pushed your phone across the little glass tabletop and got up, carrying the dishes into the kitchen to wash them off.

"Yeah babe, on it. Hello? N-no. You're trying to reach Bakugou? Well, shit. Yeah. That's me, I mean ... I'm her husband, Katsuki. Yes! The man with incredible sperm!" He laughed, you cringed. "Wait, what? No, that's not ... I mean ...," his voice got quiet and he got up, walking across the yard to mess with a fence piece.

You watched him out there fiddle with the broken wooden slat and felt your heart breaking into even smaller pieces. "Fuck." You whispered, looking down at the tiny bubbles popping on the soaking dishes. A tear dripped from your chin and landed on your chest, darkening a spot on your gray Dynamight shirt.

Katsuki came walking into the kitchen and came over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. "Hey, ma?" Getting down on his knees, he put his hands on your waist and smooshed his face into your tummy. "Ma?"

"Are you having a fucking stroke or something? What are you doing, dumbass?" You wiped your chin and huffed out a short, insincere laugh. "Kats, what did - what'd they say. Is it me? Am I ..."

"Yes, babe. It's you. It's you … and the little grenade you're carrying. You're ... we're ... having a baby, y/n. You're fuckin' pregnant." He beamed up at you, tears in his wide eyes. 

"It's you, babe. You and me. And … and … and a little us in you. We did it, y/n. We're gonna have a family!"

You covered your mouth with your hands and cried. Not just a few tears, but a full-on ugly cry. You were going to be a mom. Katsuki was going to be a dad. And this was just the beginning of your lives as a family.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe in us. I'm sorry I let myself think for a second that it wouldn't be us. Us. Just us. I'm so happy it's us." You bent over and kissed his forehead. He stood and wrapped you in his arms and you both just stood there letting this new beautiful reality sink in.

The future was yours and yours alone … well, and Kats’ and the babies, of course. 

Taglist ::: @dreamcastgirl99 @viburnt @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82

[milksnake-tea]

Hi, can I request from Nanook or Yaoshi

Gn reader

Headcannon or Scenario like them giving kisses/affection to their reader

giving affection

characters: nanook

contains: fluff !! nanook is emotionally constipated tho

a/n: decided to do just nanook this time bc yaoshi gives a lot of affection in a lot of my other works lol, hope you don't mind! ngl not the happiest w this piece but is okay i can always edit it later <3

Alright, I'll be real with you, affection isn't really Nanook's thing. Like, they're bad at it. Real bad at it.

Aeons are often tied to their paths, Nanook especially. They haven't felt anything other than a need to destroy and kill for many millennia. Their hands are made to hurt, not to hold. They didn't even remember that they had a heart before you came around.

So you'll have to be patient with them. Nanook knows that they should show even the slightest bit of their attachment for you, and they do want to, it's just that they don't know how.

They take being emotionally constipated to the next level, but they do try. It starts out with little things, such as letting you hold onto them, or keeping a hand at your back to keep you close. Sometimes, they'll brush your hair back behind your ear, and other times, they'll hesitantly press a soft kiss to your temple.

Nanook isn't a talker, never was. Because of this, they'll rarely, if ever, tell you outright that they love you. Their love comes in other forms, such as protection and physical touch.

Nanook can come off as a distant lover, but the few moments where they choose to let down their walls remind you just how much they care for you.

"You're awfully touchy today," you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Nanook's head. The Aeon simply grunted in response, embracing you from behind as they bury their face into your neck.

They pepper soft kisses and nips across your skin, closing their eyes as they drink you in. Their hands are tight around your waist, firm but never overwhelming.

You giggle as they nuzzle their way up to your cheek, nipping at your earlobe before resting their chin on your shoulder. You pet their head, fingers threading through their surprisingly soft hair - unfit for an Aeon of Destruction, but Nanook was never one to care about what they should or shouldn't be.

They hum as you do so, blinking open their eyes, gazing out into the cosmos.

"Too long," they mutter quietly, so quietly that you almost missed it. You looked up at them, silently prompting them to continue. Nanook leans back, bringing you with them.

"Too long since I've last seen you," they clarified, returning their gaze to you. You leaned your head against them, smiling as you twirled a braid around your finger. "I assumed you'd missed me."

"Is that why you're acting like this?" you ask, letting the braid fall back against Nanook's wound.

Nanook's chest rumbled against you as they hummed. "Are you complaining?"

You laugh airily, the faintest hint of a smile drifting onto Nanook's face as they watched you.

"No, of course not." You snuggled your cheek against theirs, kissing their cheek. Nanook seemed to be satisfied that, merely closing their eyes and returning to their spot at your neck.

You closed your eyes alongside them, savoring their presence for as much as you could. You knew that they would have to leave eventually, leaving you with the Legion for who knows how long. They always did.

But that was fine, because it made these moments all the more precious.

[aboardthescheherazade]

is it true that they removed mentions of tintin journaling/actually mentioning his job/etc when they redrew some of the older tintin comics? i swear i remember seeing examples of that once but i have no clue where to find them again

I definitely know which post you're talking about, but I can't find it either. I'll try to compile what I remember and/or know about offhand...

For the most part, the most references to Tintin being a reporter come early on in what are considered the "newsprint editions" of the comics. The first nine albums were serialized in Le Petit Vingtieme and Le Soir Jeunesse, and these pages were later re-collected and coloured (and occasionally cut down/rewritten) for what are now known as the "Casterman editions".

Tintin being a reporter is all over Land of the Soviets, and it's introduced as early as page 1. It's the silliest album, but it's also the only album thoroughly revolving around Tintin going on a reporting assignment.

(Soviets pg. 4. By God, look at that guard in the upper right. He looks like the RESPECT! butler)

Tintin is still a reporter in Congo, but it's scaled far back in the redrawn Casterman edition. In the latter, it's kept to one mention in the very first panel, which was also turned into the first appearance of Dupont and Dupond:

(Congo pgs. 1)

Meanwhile, the newsprint edition has a scene where newspaper agents try to scout Tintin as a reporter, I guess because his stories are just that good. He ultimately declines, claiming Petit Vingtieme is paying him way more than what they offer.

(Congo pg. 17)

Now, I'd had a theory that the series just became too plot-focused to keep pausing for references to Tintin's writing, but Reddit user XenophonOfAthens made a good point about Herge being forced to pause discussion of the press and current events after the nazis shut down Le Vingtieme, thus moving Hergé and many of the same staff to the nazi-overseen Le Soir and Le Soir Jeunesse. Tintin had been introduced as Le Petit Vingtieme's boy reporter who child readers could follow along with, but now with a new (heavily monitored) publication, mentions of the "boy reporter" slowly phased out.

One of the more significant edits to Tintin's reporting comes in Cigars of the Pharaoh. Sheik Patrash Pasha originally says he's followed Tintin's adventures for "several years" and presents a then-new Vingtieme publishing of Tintin in America.

In the colour edition, he instead presents Destination Moon. This album was in production at the time of the redraws, and it was one of the first albums to be published outside of Europe...but now Tintin's reaction is especially visceral, since that album involves him going to the moon with two people he hasn't met yet.

(Cigars B&W pg. 39, Casterman pg. 15. I also gave the Sheik's servant in the latter a quick edit because it was somehow worse than the 1933 version)

The last reference to Tintin's reporting for a long while was in The Broken Ear. We are now in the Soir era:

(Broken Ear pgs. 2)

This line never made it past the newsprint version. Tintin hears the news about the museum theft, and originally, he remarks that it'll make for a nice report...but in the reprint, he's just declaring that he'll go to the museum. I feel like the wording in the original could have referred to something specific about the comic's run in Le Soir Jeunesse, but it also could have been removed under the assumption that the reader would be going into this book knowing Tintin is a reporter. He does have a notepad with him through the rest of the page, but without that context, he just seems like a busybody.

I feel like there were a lot more references to his reporting in Le Journal Tintin, which is where the comic moved its publication to. This adds credence to the possibility that readers would be picking up these books knowing Tintin was a reporter, thus it being less of a focus within each album's plot. There do seem to be little hints throughout the albums about Tintin being a reporter...one of these is a moment in Explorers on the Moon where Tintin describes the moon's surface to ground control, and as a writer myself, this to me feels like him gathering his words for a future story:

(Explorers pg. 24)

However, Tintin's reporting is brought up in an album one more time, decades later, in Picaros. Tintin is referred to as a reporter on televised news, so this is at least some confirmation that he does submit journalist work, at least off-camera or between albums:

(pg. 47)

In short, Tintin's reporting started to fade off suspiciously during an era where nazis were breathing down Hergé's neck, then got a little lost in translation, and then ultimately came back.

My theory for Tintin's reporting slowly becoming less important in the albums happened either due to 1. Hergé and co. becoming more interested in writing about other things, 2. the series being moved to a vanity publication that discussed Tintin being a reporter outside of the canon comics, or 3. it got phased out during the Le Soir era because Hergé's supervisors didn't want to promote a gonzo journalist as a hero during a time with heavy political censorship and turmoil. It's completely up in the air.

[shunin-gumis]

Netaro Initial SSR Story

Netaro's Soulmate Search, Group Date Edition (Part 2)

Momiji: It's finally the day of the group date!

Netaro: Oooh...! This place is crawling with unfamiliar humans. I am feeling quite stimulated!

Momiji: Netaro-kun is all hyped up too.

Momiji: We spent a lot of time practicing his conversational skills, and eventually he'd improved quite a bit!

Momiji: At least, I think.

~~~~~~(flashback start)

Akuta: Ohohohohoho, top o' the mornin' to ya Kotaro-san! I hope the weather is crazy good today too!

Netaro: Ohohohoho, indeed! The weather has been so pleasant lately that it has been quite easy to leave the laundry out to dry, yes!

~~~~~~(flashback end)

Momiji: ... I'm sure that counts as small talk, right? Yeah. Let's just put it that way.

Momiji: Oh, people have already split up and are sitting down at the tables that have been set up for the occasion...

Momiji: All that's left is to go for it...! Do your best, Netaro-kun!

~~~~~~

The gyaru sitting nearby: Hey hey~ Where'd you come from? I was born and raised right here in HAMA~

Netaro: I have arrived from a planet far beyond~ All for the sake of meeting you.

The gyaru sitting nearby: For reals? That's crazy~

The cheery guy sitting across: I gotta know, where'd you get those threads? The color is sick as hell dude.

Netaro: Right? Isn't it just so?

Momiji: Oh? Looks like it's going well? Maybe I don't have to worry after all...

Kind-looking man: Um, it's my first time attending a group date. It's kinda nerve-wracking huh?

Momiji: R-Right? It's my first time too. I accompanied a friend here today...

Momiji: This is feels kinda refreshing. It's a different kind of experience from when I deal with tourists.

Momiji: I see... this is one way to enjoy a group date I guess!

~~~~~~

Cheery guy Yamada: Thanks Netaro-kun, I'll call ya later~

Netaro: I shall wait eagerly, Yamada. For we are best pals now.

Netaro: Fufu, how was that, Doudou! Were you watching me? Did you see? I managed to hold a proper "conversation"!

Momiji: -Ah! I remember that store! How nostalgic~

Kind-looking man: I didn't think I'd get to meet someone who knew that place. I barely get the chance to talk about it...

Netaro: ...Hmph.

Netaro: Doudou.

Momiji: W-what's wrong!? Weren't you just having a conversation over there...?

Netaro: I... feel upset for some reason. I need you to look at me more.

Netaro: I managed to display the fruits of our training after all. Should you not be praising me by now?

Netaro: Go on, pat me. Praise me more~

Kind-looking man: Um...?

Momiji: This is bad, he looks confused...!

Netaro: Oh I see, you did not get to witness the results with your own eyes.

Netaro: Then I shall converse with you now! Doudou, what are your hobbies? Tell me, tell me~

Choice 1: But that would be missing the point.

Momiji: But that's not the point of this exercise, Netaro-kun. Netaro: Hm? Momiji: Netaro-kun, I want you to be able to find your Beatrice. That's why we came to this group date, so you could meet all kinds of people. Momiji: Right now, you should be talking to other people, not me, right? We'll talk more when we get back home. Netaro: ... Netaro: I see. Understood. Netaro: You. I apologize for intruding on your conversation suddenly. Kind-looking man: Oh, no, it's alright. Are the two of you friends...? Netaro: Indeed. You may call me Netaro Yowa. I am the 18th Ward Mayor of HAMA Tours!

Choice 2: My hobby is... traveling.

Momiji: My hobby... Well, I do love traveling. Momiji: Now that it's come to this, I should throw a topic to Netaro-kun. I'm sure he knows how to go with the flow now... Kind-looking man: Travel, huh. That's great, I really enjoy it too. Netaro: In that case, you should participate in one of our tours at "HAMA Tours". You will get a taste of hospitality that you have never experienced before.

Kind-looking man: Wait, you work at HAMA Tours!? Please do tell me more, I've been wanting to join a tour there since before!

Netaro: Ooh~ Why of course! I'll tell you all there is to know about it from A to Z!

Netaro: Fu~fufun~ La~lala~

Momiji: We weren't able find your Beatrice yet, but you got to make a lot of new friends in the end huh.

Netaro: Indeed! However, this is only the first round of "Beatrice Selection". There will be many many more rounds to come~

Netaro: I shall count on you for the next one too, Doudou.

Momiji: Wait, next time too!?

Momiji: Well, I guess I did have fun. And I'd be too worried to leave him alone...

Momiji: In a way, maybe this could lead to some advertising for HAMA Tours...

Momiji: All right, I'll do my best to find out how you can get to meet a lot more people.

Netaro: You promise, yes? If it ends up being a lie, I'll reconfigure you so that I can launch you through the stratosphere in the flesh, understood?

Momiji: Alright alright, I get it. Let's get some dinner and go home!

Momiji: What do we get today... We talked a lot, so I'm feeling extra hungry.

Netaro: ..........

Netaro: Indeed, I'm feeling quite peckish.

Netaro: You smile over the smallest things. Get surprised easily. Your reactions are always refreshing, and full of life.

Netaro: Kind eyes. A kind voice. Such things are present in this world in abundance, and yet that is precisely why it is so precious.

Netaro: Ha~.........

Netaro: I truly am feeling hungry.

Part 1

[demonvibez]

Hmmm another character I think would be fun to write for a soft fluffy shower scenario would be Beel, Mammon or Levi!!!

I imagine Beel's quite happy and delighted when he gets to pat you down with a towel and occasionally eat the toothpaste when it's time to get ready for bed, which is cute and soft!!! He's just a fluffy man!!! He wants to be drowned in that domestic love for sure!!! He likes ruffling your hair down with a towel and drying you off in his lap after a nice hot shower.

I can imagine he's too big and bulky to move efficiently out of the way of the showerhead so usually the water cascades all over him and barely on you. But don't worry!!! He'll just rub all the water on him back onto you when he's got you against the wall.

Mammon would be interesting because he's super bashful but he doesn't turn his nose up at the chance to bathe with MC, he's a lil nervous and doesn't exactly know where to glue his eyes or where to rub you down with bodywash because he keeps getting distracted by how pretty and sweet MC looks like this, but he's got the right spirit!

Eventually I imagine he gets quite comfortable rubbing MC down with soap while humming to himself, he seems so blissful he keeps lathering more soap onto you no matter how many times he's already done it. He just likes being able to touch you and be there with you, he likes when you let him take care of you and of course he loves it when you wash his hair out with him! I imagine he loves a mixture of baths and showers.

Levi's also quite sweet because I can imagine he's so shy! Poor guy doesn't know what to do in such a scenario!!! He wants to enjoy this intimate moment with MC in the bath so bad but he's so fidgety and blushy he can barely put his hands on you without overthinking it. He lets you wash his back even when he squirms around from the touch, the water swirls everywhere and eventually he's the one sitting between your legs so he can hide away that blush on his cheeks.

It stays that way regardless of how much time has passed, he's always thankful to have such an angel taking care of him in such a vulnerable state :,,,((( Eventually I'd say he becomes quite cozy staring at you! His eyes always linger in places they shouldn't and his cheeks erupt into fire when he figures out that MC does not at all mind when he lets his eyes and mind wander.

Wawawawa I like the boys :,|

An honourable mention I'd say would be interesting to write for is Solomon!

His pact marks are everywhere and he likes when MC scrubs down his marks in exchange for your's. When he smoothes his hands over the marks on your skin with soap he feels strangely calm, he likes how when it's just skin to skin, the both of you aren't so different afterall. Stripped down to the barest parts of you, MC is almost like him. Human! With the help of a few demons.

Oooo, all of these are definitely worthy contenders! I definitely wanna write the full versions w/ allllll of them, and have some pretty devious ideas about each. Your honorable mention of Solomon has inspired quite a few ideas that I'll have to keep in mind 😈

Until then, love what you wrote above, so I put my lil reply/spin below. ♡ I left out Solomon because he's just gonna have to join the party later!

Edit: am realizing I may not have put as much softness into parts of this but, oh well, enjoy!

warning: no real smut but it's quite suggestive (minors dni)

I definitely see Beelzebub being nervous at first, seeing as he is so damn polite when it comes to how you feel, whether it's about consent or the breakfast menu. He might fumble about the shower the first go round, which you both still enjoyed quite a bit, but the second time he is ready with a plan. He'll tell you to step into the shower first, the water cascading over you and onto him as he hands you the soap with that innocent smile of his. Time to rub down all of those muscles with your tiny little human hands. A blush creeps across his face as you look up at him with a devious smirk, gently pushing him down to the shower floor so that you can finally climb him and have your way with him . . .

Always the greedy demon, Mammon would never miss the chance to bathe with you. The greedy part of him just wants to take you, to feel every part of you while you share the shower together - to make you feel as good as you make him feel. Sometimes he has to remind himself that you're both here for a reason, 'gotta get clean n get ta breakfast before Lucifer kicks both our asses!' and you both fall into the routine of helping each other scrub. Sometimes, on a day where you both have nowhere to be, you find yourself in a bath together. Mammon suddenly pulls you into his lap, his grip on you firm and the golden glint of greed in his eyes. He has you all to himself today, and he will not be holding back . . .

Bathing with Leviathan is a double edged sword - when it comes to being in water, he is in his natural element. Demon form or not, he loves water and it's his safe space. On the other hand, Leviathan is not only very shy, but also self loathing. It isn't until you come along that everything starts to change. It takes some time for Levi to bathe with you - even the idea initially had him shut into his room for three days. But who else but you, his Henry, could help him break out of his shell?! And after a few attempts, here the two of you were. Eyes wide and cheeks painted with blush, Levi was lathering up your shoulders when he heard you giggle. He noticed that his tail had wrapped around your leg, and was snaking it's way upwards. Mortified, he began to stammer when you placed your hand on his tail and assured him that you like it. Emboldened with a small wind of confidence, he let his tail continue on, wondering what else it can do that you like . . .

[chiefduckgarden]

The other woman

Wanda Maximoff x Williams!Reader

Natasha Romanoff x Williams!Reader

Royal AU

Angst - Cheating - Forced Marriage - If you love Natasha don't read this. (really)

Summary:

W: Young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes.

N: You can think that you're in love when you're really just engaged.

A/N: Reader's last name is Williams, it's easier to write this way. This has been in my drafts for months lol. I saw a Tik Tok edit of the Corpse Bride and thought of this. Still not sure about how it turned out though.

- Stop being so silly Y/N, you know I will miss you just as much as you're going to miss me - Wanda said smiling, her head resting on your chest while one of your hands rubbed her back up and down.

- I know, I just wish I could stay here with you, I don't care about this stupid trip, I'd rather be here for your birthday, for that giant celebration your father is planning - you said, looking down into her eyes.

- You've been here for each and every one of my birthdays since we were 12, nothing will happen if you miss this one, even if it's "especial", I understand you have to go with your parents - she replied.

You huffed.

- I don't even know why I have to go in the first place, they have always gone by themselves, I don't know why I'm required this time - you explained - And I don't like it either, they're up to something, I can feel it.

She cupped your cheek and pecked your lips.

- You're their only daughter, their only Princess, the only heir for their kingdom, maybe they want to give you more responsibilities from now on... You're gonna be Queen someday, it's time you get prepared for it...

- I've been preparing for it my whole life - you sighed - But you're right, maybe it's time for me to take it seriously.

You stared at her and smiled.

- And maybe I can talk to them in this trip about us - you said, and her eyes sparkled with illusion at your words - I'll tell them I'm marrying you, and we'll plan the proposal for when we get back.

- Are you serious my love? Will you ask my hand in marriage? - she asked happily.

- Of course I will, I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.

She kissed you and you smiled.

- Also, I have to beat that Jarvis Prince - you said - I've heard the rumors, but if I ask you first and you accept me, there will not be any reason for us to not get married.

- Your royal highness, it's time to leave, the King asked for your presence - you heard a voice calling for you.

- On my way - you replied.

- Come back to me my love, and have fun in your trip - Wanda said, kissing you one last time.

- I'll be back in no time, and then, it'll be just us, for eternity my lady.

- For eternity Y/N... - she replied.

------------

4 months later.

The King and the Queen of Williams Kingdom are happy to announce the engagement of their heir, Princess Y/N, with the noble Princess Natasha Romanoff.

The Royal Family announced the happy news during their stay in the Romanoff Kingdom.

This makes young Romanoff the future Queen to the rightful heir to the throne of Williams House. The union of this two families represents one of the most important alliances in the last decades, the two kingdoms will surely benefit from this marriage.

It seems like love has been in the air from some time now, let's remember just a month ago the Maximoff family announced the marriage of their youngest daughter Princess Wanda and the future King Vision Jarvis, on her 18th birthday celebration.

Good luck to these new happy couples and the best of luck for all of them.

--------

- Don't act like you didn't knew about it! You fooled me! - you screamed in exasperation pacing around the room with the newsletter in your hand.

- We didn't knew Maximoff would get the girl married so early, but yes, there's no reason to lie, we knew about the wedding - your father told you.

- It was all planned, wasn't it? This trip, meeting Natasha, Wanda's birthday celebration - you mentioned harshly - You played with us like we were chess pieces, you decided our lives without asking us anything...

- There was nothing to ask, your little teenage romance with Wanda was senseless, she was promised to Jarvis even before they were born... And you, we waited for the right girl to come to your life, for the perfect Queen for you to love... And that is Natasha...

- YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE THAT! THAT WAS MY CHOICE! - you screamed, you couldn't handle listen to him anymore.

- Well it's not! I am the King and I know what's best for you and for the kingdom! And as long as this crown is perched on my head you will obey each and every one of my orders, especially those orders that relate to the future of my legacy!

You took a step back, not believing what your father was saying.

- You're gonna marry Natasha Romanoff and get the biggest alliance in the history of our family and that's a direct order, not from your father, but from your King!

That was it. Those last words made you understand that, whatever you had left to say would be pointless. The King made a decision, and there was no turning back.

You lowered you head, and nodded.

- Yes, your Majesty.

Holding back the tears from your breaking heart you had the courage to ask for one more thing.

- Tell Natasha I'll meet her in our residence back at home, I need to travel now to talk with Wanda about this decision and finish everything in the best way possible. We're still friends, and for the sake of our friendship with the Maximoff House it would be wise to keep our alliance with them.

Your father took a few seconds to process your request but finally nodded.

- That's okay, you can go now.

Bowing down once more you left the room with tears already falling down your face.

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

Stopping your horse right in front of the small cabin placed in the middle of the woods your heart was pounding like crazy. When you made it inside and saw those beautiful green eyes it finally explode in love.

- Y/N! My love - she said the moment you walked in, running into your arms.

You hugged her immediately and both of you melted in a heated passion kiss after all those months separated.

- My lady... My Wanda... How you've been my love? I know life must have been hell for you just as it's been for me - you said, with your arms still around the girl.

- Oh you have no idea... They made me marry Vision the same day of my birthday, without warning. When I told my father it was you the one I loved he told me I was crazy - she started to cry - He said it was ridiculous because you were already engaged to another woman, promised to someone else. It broke my heart because I realized we had fallen in their trap my love, they made the choices for us.

- I know, I realized that too, and when I confront my father about it... - you gulped at the memory - He yelled at me like never before and command me to get marry, not as my father, but as my king.

Wanda whipped away a tear that was rolling down your cheek.

- I didn't know they were gonna announce an engagement until the day before. They gave me no choice - you said, now both of you were sitting in the edge of the bed.

- Is Natasha aware of your your displeasure? - she asked.

You shook your head.

- No, I don't think so, she was very excited when they announced the engagement... She thinks it's all genuine.

- Vision thinks as well, he thinks I want him... Even though I have refused to sleep with him...

You looked at her worried. Heartbroken. Not even you had dare to touch her in a passionate way.

- What are we going to do my love? They took everything from us, even our freedom...

She sighed.

- I don't know... I'm just sure I don't want us to end, we are soul mates Y/N, you are the love of my life... I don't care if you're married to someone else as long as I know I'm the only one for you... Because you're the only one for me...

- Wanda, in my world there's only you and then the rest of the people. I don't care about Vision or Natasha, we love each other and that is all that matters...

- But how are we going to make this work? They can get suspicious...

- We were best friends before this ridiculous circus started, and it doesn't have to change now... We just have to be careful on how we act... - you paused for a few seconds to cup her face - Although I don't think i could ever hide this love I feel for you, it's very intense...

She smiled at your words.

- Me neither, but we'll try our best... - she looked around the little comfy cabin you were in - And also, we will always have this place for us, only you and I know about it, it will keep our secret safe.

You nodded and kissed her. It became heated every second, until she was sitting on your lap and your arms were around her waist, holding her close to your body.

- Wanda... - you said in a whisper between kisses - We need to stop, or either way I will...

- Do it - she said looking straight into your eyes, her green big eyes now full of desire - Take me Y/N, make me yours, i want you to be my first...

You looked at her, the knot on your lower stomach increasing.

- Are you sure?

She didn't respond, with her lower lip trapped between her teeth she grabbed your hand and guided your palm to her breast. You squeezed it, causing her to moan.

- God... - you whispered.

With a quick flip you turned the position, now she was laid on the bed, with you on top.

- Make love to me, darling - she said.

That night, your affair got sealed with the intertwine of your bodies.

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

- And this is the main room, it's spacious and comfortable for the two of us - you said to Natasha, showing your future bedroom - The right room it's for me, and the left side is yours Princess Natasha, and we have the common space room right in the middle.

Natasha nodded but frowned.

- Why do we have separate beds? I thought we were sharing the same bedroom...

You smiled shaking your head.

- Oh no, we'll have the same room but I would feel more comfortable with my own space - you said walking into your side - But feel free to redecorate the whole room, change whatever you like, even my side, just leave my closet as it is right now.

She followed you confused.

- Where are you going? - she asked - We have my parents' farewell dinner tonight, tomorrow they'll go home.

- I know, I will go play tennis with Princess Wanda and then I'll meet you at the dinner - you said, walking into your closet to change your clothes.

- Princess Wanda? Again? You went out with her last week.

- Yes, you know she's my best friend, we both play tennis every week, it's our favorite sport - you said.

Natasha nodded. She didn't understand the reason behind your distance, at first she thought it was because you didn't know her before your visit at her kingdom, but now, after spending some weeks with you and failed tries on bonding with you she was very confused.

- I'll see you later - you said, walking out from your closet and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

- Okay - she answered.

She spent the rest of the evening choosing the colors, the carpets and selecting fabrics for your new room. She was loving the result, but wishing you were there to help her out.

- Do you think Princess Y/N will like this color for her bed? - she asked her maid, showing her the color tone she had choose.

- Oh it's beautiful, she will love it - the woman answered.

Natasha smiled, really hoping you will like it.

- You've known the princess since she was a kid, right? - Romanoff asked the woman again.

- Yes, I've been working for the Royal Family since 15 years ago...

Natasha kept silent for some second before asking again.

- Do you know how close is Princess Y/N with Princess Wanda Maximoff? I know they're best friends but I'm just curious about their friendship...

- Oh they are very very close, they grew up together and used to make everything side by side... They had the same private tutors, a lot of sleepovers, they both love tennis...

Natasha nodded, not wanting to listen more, but the woman kept talking.

- Princess Y/N used to write a lot of letters for Princess Wanda, every week, and Princess Wanda wrote for her too, the letters should be somewhere in here, she keeps them very well preserved... They're very special for each other - the woman smiled at the memory.

Nat cleared her throat and left the fabrics on the bed.

- It's time for me to get ready for dinner, please take all this out of the room and bring the dress.

- Yes your royal highness - the woman said, following the instructions.

Once alone, Natasha made some deep thinking. She didn't want to create false scenarios in her head, but since she met you, you had done nothing but talk about Wanda and spend time with her.

But she didn't had the time to over think because you stepped in the room in that moment. The happiness in your face could be notice from a thousand miles away.

- Natasha? I thought you would be on your way to dinner already... - you said.

- Oh I lost track of time with the decorations and everything, my dress will be here in any minute - she answered, and you nodded - Also, I think our parents will expect to see us coming in together...

You sighed and walked into your side of the room.

- Yes, I think you're right, I'm gonna take a bath and get ready - you said.

Before you could leave she asked.

- How was tennis with Princess Wanda? I can see you're really happy.

You froze for a second but then raised your head with a small smile.

- Yes, it was really funny... It's always funny.

You started walked again but she stopped your tracks once more, making you tense immediately with her next words.

- Maybe you can teach me, I'll go with you next time.

You didn't say anything, just slightly nodded your head and walked out.

Natasha was afraid that maybe she was trying to force herself into your daily activities, she didn't want bother you in any way, or make you upset with her.

But when you meet her again in the car that night, suddenly your behavior towards her changed dramatically.

You treated her kind and lovely the whole night. For the first time she felt like she was your fiancé and not just some random stranger that came into your life.

But the fairytale broke down the moment you stepped into your house. You only said goodnight to her and leave to go to your bed.

She wondered what she could've possibly done to make you upset again.

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

For the next weeks you kept your distance for her like before, only talking to her when it was necessary. And she was starting to get pissed.

- I just want to know what can I do to make you feel closer to me... I've been trying for weeks to connect with you but nothing ever change. Just tell me what's wrong, so we can fix it.

You've been arguing for the last twenty minutes, you told her you'd go to play tennis and she started to yell at you.

- There's nothing to fix, because nothing is wrong Natasha... I just have a hard time to open myself with new people...

- But I'm not new people, I'm your fiancé, we're gonna get married Y/N, let's start acting like a couple for once.

You sighed. Tired.

- What do you want me to do? I just don't feel comfortable yet...

- Oh but you're not even trying, everyday you find something to get yourself busy with, and your spare time goes all in tennis and Princess Wanda... When will you have time for me?

You heart stopped. How dare she to even pronounce Wanda's name.

- Wanda has nothing to do with this - you said, almost in a whisper.

- I know, I'm not blaming her for anything, I'm blaming you...

You were about to say something when the butler knocked the door.

- Excuse me ma'am, Princess Wanda Maximoff is here for the tennis practice, she's waiting for you in the main hall.

You fixed your messy clothes and answered.

- Thanks, tell her I'll be with her in a minute.

- Yes your royal highness.

The butler left, leaving you and Natasha alone again.

- I need to go - you said, without looking at her.

- I know - she contained the tears - Just leave, I also need to go, I'm having tea with your mother later.

You nodded and walked out, with her following you some steps behind.

When you made it to the first floor your bad mood changed completely at the sight of your lover.

- Wanda, it's so nice to see you! Ready for tennis? - you asked, kissing her right hand and cheeks.

- Yes, let's go! - she replied.

When two guards followed you she quickly stopped them.

- Oh we're taking the horses, no need for security, just two best friends riding and playing... The Princess and I will be fine.

- Yes, don't worry, I'll be back in a few hours - you completed.

- Of course ma'am - your guards nodded.

Natasha saw the whole interaction, her eyes burning in jealousy. She knew Wanda was your best friend, but her instincts were screaming her something was off. She decided to ask your mother that afternoon.

--------------------------

- Oh dear lord! - Wanda screamed in pure bliss, three of your fingers buried deep inside her intimacy, you leaving small kisses all along her jaw and neck.

- Go on my lady, let me see you reach euphoria once more...

- Yeah... - she panted - Take me to heaven again Y/N, just keep doing that...

Your moans were hidden by the walls of the small cabin.

- Y/N... I'm gonna...

You felt her orgasm crash on your fingers, her wetness dripping down your hands and rolling down her thighs.

- Wanda... - you panted, taking the three fingers to your mouth - Oh God... - you moaned - You're so magical...

She smiled at you, wasting no time and kissing you as deep as she could, tasting herself in your mouth.

A few moments later you were both tangled in each other's arms, resting after your love making evening.

- Oh how I wish I could wake up every day inside your arms - she said with her head resting on your chest.

- I know, I would make love to you every morning and every night... I would take care of your sleep, watch you fall asleep into my arms, giving a goodnight kiss in the forehead...

A tear rolled down her face.

- We would be happy...

You nodded.

- Yes... So happy.

She stared at you for some seconds before speaking again.

- Are you happy? - she asked.

- What do you mean? You know I'm not - you answered, confused.

- I know, but you have a wife, Princess Natasha is beautiful... Have you bonded with her already?

You denied, shaking your head.

- Not really, I spend all my time doing my duties and my spare time I spend it with you...

She smiled sheepishly.

- Has she notice your absence?

You sighed.

- Yeah, just this morning before you came we were arguing about it... She wants me to spend more time with her...

- Same with Vision - she said - He wants me to go with him in this trip he's having next month... I don't think I'll can refuse

You blink confused.

- Does that mean I will not see you? For how long?

Your heart shredded.

- Three weeks...

- Oh...

She immediately sensed your mood change.

- But I will came back to you... Like always.

- I know... I trust you, I don't trust Vision though...

- Don't worry, no matter what happens I will always be yours.

- I'll always be yours too.

- Take this time to be with Natasha, calm her down and win her trust, it's your wife after all.

You sighed and nodded.

- I'll do whatever you ask me to... - you said kissing her hand.

She fell silent for a few moments. You turned to look at her and saw in her expression what was happening. She was thinking… processing something.

- What's wrong, my love? - you asked - What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?

She looked into your eyes, gazing at you for a moment before speaking.

- I want you to marry Natasha during my absence… I need you to seal your commitment to her while I'm not here. If I'm not present, I won't have to attend to the wedding, and I won't have to endure the pain of seeing you marry someone else… If you don't do it within those weeks, I'll be forced to attend your wedding, and I… I don't think I can bear it, Y/N… I won't be able to.

She was right. Due to your trip to the Romanoff realm, you didn't have to be present at Wanda's sudden wedding. You didn't have to go through the pain of seeing her standing at the altar with someone else. It wouldn't be fair to her to see you with Natasha.

You nodded and kissed her forehead. Both of you were crying, and you held her hand.

- I promise I will - you said - For you, Wanda. I just want you to know that even if it's Natasha to whom I vow love and eternal devotion at the altar, my words and my heart will always belong to you and only you.

That evening, you returned home with a heavy heart. But to your misfortune, the tragedies wouldn't stop that day. As soon as you passed through the grand and elegant door adorning your entrance, you saw your father's guards waiting. That only meant he was visiting, and that couldn't be good.

- Your Royal Highness - a man bowed before you - Your Majesty, King Williams is in the main study waiting for you.

You surveyed your surroundings before responding. Everything was in overwhelming silence. You looked for your butler and inquired - Is Princess Natasha at home?

- No, Your Highness, Princess Natasha is still visiting the royal palace with the queen, your mother," he responded.

You took a deep breath - I see - you cleared your throat - I will speak with my father right away. If the princess returns home, please notify me immediately. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with her.

You turned and made your way to the study. With every step you took, you could feel your heart beating stronger. You knew what was coming. As soon as you crossed that door, your father would reproach you for not paying enough attention to Natasha. You were nervous about the reprimand, but it was somewhat reassuring to know that this time you had an answer to his accusations.

- Your Majesty - you spoke, but he didn't look at you - To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Father? - You walked over and took a seat across from him. It was only then that you noticed his cold gaze.

- I'm afraid my visit won't bring you any pleasure, Y/N - he said - Your wife paid a visit today to your mother; they had tea together.

- I'm aware of that, Natasha mentioned it this morning - you said, trying to sound confident.

- My question here is, where were you? - he asked.

- I played tennis with Princess Wanda most of the afternoon, and we went riding for a while. I lost track of time between the game and our conversation... - you explained but your father interrupted you.

- Natasha told us where you were… She also mentioned some more interesting things about those little escapades of yours with Princess Wanda… I didn't like what I heard at all, Y/N - he said.

- Father, Wanda and I…- you began, but he interrupted.

- Wanda and you are no more, it ended the moment she got married and you became engaged - he shouted - Don't you understand? Natasha suspects you and Wanda, she has doubts about her marriage, this is very serious, Y/N. It could trigger political problems and destabilize our marriage agreements with her kingdom. As the heir to this realm, you have a responsibility to your people and to me. I cannot allow your actions to jeopardize our political stability. It's important that you maintain a strong relationship with Natasha and avoid any suspicion about your relationship with Wanda.

- There is nothing between Wanda and me, Father… we had something in the past, as you well know, but now she is married. It hasn't been easy for me, but I believe it's time to stabilize the situation. Wanda will be going on a trip with Prince Jarvis, and today we discussed my wedding. She encouraged me to get married as soon as possible to reassure Natasha about our marriage… I want to have the wedding in two weeks - you explained.

- Is that so… - he looked at you, analyzing - Well, so be it. Let's not delay any further. As soon as I return to the palace, I will inform your mother about your decision, and we will proceed with the necessary preparations. There's no turning back from this.

- You may think you've appeased me with your sudden decision to marry, but you can't deceive me, Y/N. The matters you have with Wanda… put an end to them. I am giving you the opportunity to do it on your terms. Remember that you are the heir; you must find a way to balance your personal feelings with your responsibilities as the future queen. I don't want to take drastic measures, but if you can't control this situation, I will have to intervene… and then I assure you, you will never see Wanda again - he warned.

Your father left your home, and the next morning, the entire kingdom was aware of your wedding. Natasha was in total ecstasy. As soon as you informed her of the date, she kissed you fervently and headed to the palace to begin preparations for your wedding.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't muster a spark of excitement. You seemed like a walking corpse. But your father's threats echoed in your mind, and you forced yourself to be the perfect fiancée for Natasha. In front of people, you looked like the ideal couple, planning the dream wedding together. But deep inside, you were dying to leave it all behind and run into Wanda's arms.

After two weeks that felt like an eternity, the day finally arrived. You were just hours away from getting married. Natasha was getting ready at the palace with her mother, while you prepared in the privacy of your home.

In that intimate moment, you allowed yourself to write a letter to Wanda, letting your heart speak and conveying all your love and devotion for her. When you finished, you placed it in the pocket of your shirt, right over your heart, and prepared to leave. You would find a way to deliver it to her later.

The moment had come. The entire kingdom was waiting. Natasha, her parents, and your parents were all there. It seemed like the most meticulously planned event of the year, with nothing missing. But to you, everything was missing because even though you were about to get married, the love of your life was not there.

The ceremony had passed quickly. You felt like your soul had left your body, but it was your turn to speak.

- Dear Natasha...

Wanda, thousands of kilometers away, knew what was happening. Her heart ached at the thought of you becoming someone else's wife today. She only found peace in remembering your words, knowing that any promise you made to Natasha today would truly be for her.

- Today, before all the witnesses from our respective kingdoms, I make this sacred commitment. I promise to be loyal and faithful in body and spirit, and always honor the alliance we have forged, an alliance that in my heart is deeper than others may understand. On sunny days and in dark nights, I will stand by your side, fulfilling the duties entrusted to us. I promise to be your unwavering support, your confidante, and your closest friend, even when our differences challenge us. Though our paths may seem divergent, in my heart, you will always be present. May our souls find solace in this commitment, and may our union, despite the hardships, shine as a beacon of hope in this realm. May the love I have for you, though I may not openly name it, guide my actions and thoughts as we fulfill our destiny. May our marriage, though not the one we would have chosen, be a source of strength and wisdom for us both. So I promise, with all the sincerity and respect you deserve.

Natasha smiled. You both kissed. Wanda cried. You cried. You touched your chest, where Wanda's letter resided, and smiled despite the tears.

When the wedding was over and you and Natasha were back home, you couldn't make love to her. You touched her, yes. She felt loved, yes. But you didn't feel anything. Your body belonged to Wanda. You didn't let Natasha touch you. As soon as it was over, you headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Natasha, savoring the last moments of innocence, believing that you were completely hers, took your shirt in her hands to smell your perfume once more. She loved your scent. But as she brought the garment to her nose, she felt the stiffness of paper in her hands. Curiously, she took the letter from the pocket, and in a matter of seconds, everything fell apart.

There, in her hands, was the proof of your eternal love for Wanda. A letter, written a couple of hours ago, before joining your life with hers, where you professed your eternal devotion to another woman.

My Wanda:

As I write these words, my heart is filled with a love that cannot be contained or constrained by the circumstances surrounding us. In the dark hours leading up to my forced marriage, I want you to know that my love and devotion belong to you, and you alone.

Although the world has forced us down different paths, and we are destined to marry others, I want you to know that my heart will always be yours. Our love is a fire that burns deep within me, a fire that no arranged marriage can extinguish.

Every moment we share, every stolen glance, every whispered word in secret, is a treasure in my memory that I hold dear with all my being. You are the light that brightens my life, the reason I smile amidst the darkness of our situation.

Though words cannot fully express the magnitude of what I feel for you, I want you to know that I am willing to face whatever is necessary to protect our love, even if it means sacrificing some of my own happiness. I am bound by word and paper, but my body, mind, soul, and heart will always belong to you.

No matter what the future holds for us, rest assured that you will always be my love, my confidante, and my deepest longing. Our love is a secret that only we share, a bond that no one can break.

When I stand at the altar, reciting my vows to someone I did not choose, rest assured that my heart will beat for you and only you, as I promised. I will keep our love in a special and safe place in my heart, dreaming of the future that was stolen from us, where we are together without restrictions.

With all my love and devotion, always yours.

Y/N.

There, Natasha knew it. There was no turning back. She had married someone who didn't love her. You weren't hers, and you never would be.

As soon as you emerged from the bathroom, you saw Natasha holding the letter in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew.

- Natasha...

- You lied to me.

- No, I didn't lie to you… My father forced me… they separated us, Natasha.

- All this time, I've been a fool… and you! - she pointed at you, shouting, crying inconsolably - How could you deceive me like this?

- You don't understand, you never will. It was never my intention to hurt you, Natasha…

- You've betrayed me, Y/N… you married me while all this time you were thinking about your mistress - Natasha cried.

At that moment, you lost your temper. You would never let anyone speak of Wanda in such a way.

- Don't speak of her like that. Wanda is not to blame. Don't ever say her name again… never - you asserted.

She laughed bitterly, wiping the tears from her face - It is what it is, Y/N, nothing more than your mistress…

It was then that you shouted - Don't you understand? You are the other woman in all of this… she and I were happy, she's the love of my life. Until they forced us apart. Titles don't matter, Natasha. She will always be my priority. YOU ARE THE OTHER WOMAN.

- NO! You are married to me! She is the other woman - Natasha shouted back.

You ran your hand through your hair in desperation. You sat down on the bed with your hands on your face. Natasha was crying, standing.

- I don't love you, Natasha. My father forced me to marry you. The day I saw Wanda for the last time, she asked me to have the wedding as soon as possible. I only moved forward with the plans because she requested it. You must understand that there is no one else for me but her.

Natasha looked at you, heartbroken.

- My kingdom needs yours for its resources; our union is the largest and most important due to the size of your realm. On the other hand, you need my kingdom for our reserves, as long as you are married to me, there will be stability. This marriage benefits us all, and I need us to cooperate to provide the peace our people deserve.

You explained, and she knew it was true.

- The kingdom of Wanda is small; it didn't serve much purpose to unite us. Besides, her parents had promised her hand to Prince Jarvis since she was born. We had everything against us, Natasha. We still have everything against us - you said - I'm sorry that I can't be the partner you desire, but unfortunately, the story of my life was written long before I met you. I belong to Wanda, and Wanda belongs to me. You need me, and I need you. The union is done, but you must know that I can't love you as you desire, I never will.

By this point, Natasha was just sobbing. You got up from the bed and walked to your side of the room.

- We have breakfast with our families tomorrow. We must be at the palace at nine o'clock.

You left the room, and your body felt more relaxed. You wouldn't have to pretend anymore.

Time passed, and Wanda returned from her trip. As soon as she set foot on land, she ran to find you at the cabin. She tearfully told you that Jarvis had been with her. He wanted an heir. With desperation and desire, you claimed her body for hours.

Months later, when her son was born, Natasha and you visited the couple in their palace. Wanda smiled as she showed you the little one. He was so much like Wanda that you cried with emotion. In that small moment when you held little Tommy, and Wanda sang to him beside you, you allowed yourself to dream of what could have been. The future and happiness that were denied to you. For a brief moment, you pretended that this was your little family. And you cried. You cried for everything that was taken from you.

Natasha, who watched everything from afar, finally understood. Wanda and you loved each other and would love each other forever. She could never compete with her.

She was just another piece in the chessboard that life played. She couldn't do anything else but resign herself. In the end, no one was happy. Not her. Not you. Not Wanda. Everyone was miserable because of someone else's desires. But that's how life was, and like the others, she had to accept it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

this was a lil while ago but it's been on my mind and it was rejected by actual Reddit for containing references to violence lol so it's c&p from back when this happened w a minor update but AITA for saying I'd curbstomp someone for saying the N word??

I, (27NB) attended a murder mystery birthday party back in May for a friend Annie (25F) with our mutual friends (24-28 various genders) (There was 7 of us total). We all had a pretty good time despite a lack of planning for the party and general weird vibes (Annie had been upset all day at something their partner, Sean had done).

Towards the end of the night, myself and a friend we're discussing anagrams, I believe specifically for the word "ginger", I was very drunk and did not hear the letters being spelt properly so I guessed the word was "Rigger". The other party goers conversations were coming to a natural end so they joined in mine and my friend's convo. Upon hearing me say "rigger" and pulling a face when I realised what exacty the bad word was my friend was referencing was, Sean then said "Oh it's (n word)!". Another friend, Betty did not hear what they said and asked them to repeat in, which they did loudly. The whole party stopped for a moment. At this point I think I fucked up because I was immediately shocked and said "You can't say that!" and then they said "what, (n word)?" and repeated it another time. I made a comment saying I believed the only person in the friend group to be racist was Dan. I've since privately apologised to Dan for this comment as I don't think Dan is racist at all, and Dan has accepted that apology.

Pretty much immediately after that everyone started making plans to leave, within five minutes cabs were called. Everyone left the room leaving me and Sean alone. I think this is also where I fucked up, I approached them and said they cannot say that word, it's not theirs to say etc, in which they just kept repeating "I'll use that word if I want to". (edit from months later: apparently Betty's boyfriend was in the room and didnt like do anything and just watched this play out). At this point I was pretty much blackout drunk and threatened to curb stomp them if they carried on. Betty came in and diffused the situation and took me home. Betty says myself and Sean were stood very close to each other but I was visibly drunk and stumbling and clearly was in no shape to carry through with the threat (Sean is also significantly larger than me in height and weight so I don't think even sober I would be able to land a punch, not that I want to).

Betty filled me in on a lot of these details the day after as I didn't remember a lot but apparently afterwards I tried to be extremely friendly to Sean and sort out plans for us to hangout this week, something I obviously won't be following through on. (edit: we haven't spoken to each other at all since this)

I messaged Annie on the sunday to wish her a happy birthday(edit: the party took place on the Friday iirc) and she also told me what happened (she was not present for any of this as she went to bed early at the party, feeling sick) undoubtedly hearing only Sean's side of the story. Knowing it's her birthday and I didn't want to bother her with drama I just said maybe their partner shouldn't of said what they said, and she stated after having a mild go for me for threatening to curb stomp her partner that she can't weigh in. So I stopped speaking about it to her and just forwarded her some videos I took from that night (silly videos, one of her blowing out her birthday candles, etc) and she replied saying thanks.

I've messaged Sean saying we need to talk about what happened and basically said while I'm sorry for it happening in their house during Annie's birthday party, I'm not sorry for calling out thag disgusting behaviour. Betty and another friend, Jack have both said I was well within my right to kick off like that, and that I was clearly not going to follow through with any threats, and Sean was wrong to not only say the words multiple times but then to double down when called out both in front of everyone and privately. But i have doubts since it was a birthday party and perhaps saying I'd curb stomp them is a bit much. I don't recall myself being particularly angry while shouting at them but they've said they definitely felt threatened by me and put off on talking to me.

I also find it odd they feel so threatened by me/find this behaviour of mine odd as I have reacted a similar way (less aggressive) when Annie was also racist in front of me, Betty and Sean. I've also spent the last two weeks meeting with Sean, bankrolling and planning this birthday party with absolutely no issue (i don't think a birthday person should plan/pay for their own party and Sean is unemployed) and we've had fun! We joked around a lot and I feel like I'm pretty open about being too weak to throw a punch but always ready to fight (like a chihuahua). I even came over early to help set up for the party, because I liked spending time with them. So for them to feel threatened by me is such an odd feeling. I also feel uncomfortable in the fact that Annie and Sean feel comfortable saying slurs in front of me. The whole friend group feels weird about this situation, no one really knows what to say.

(edit: ok this is where the original post ended but there's still some drama) so the day after I called Sean(with consent, to talk) but Anne picked up and said she would speak on Sean's behalf and I was on speakerphone. He did not apologise (neither did Anne) and Anne defended his behaviour pretty heavily. her/both of their's resolution was for Sean to just not say the N word around me. I obviously said that's still incredibly fucking racist and I don't want to be friends with racists? I cut them off after the phone call and said I'd like the money back I spent on the party from Sean. Anne ended up paying it back two months later when I politely brought it up at another friend's birthday.

Betty and her boyfriend still hang out with Sean and Anne and seem to be pretty good friends with them. Betty mentions Anne to me fairly often and all I say is why are you friends with a racist and then she goes quiet. Everyone still maintains I'm the asshole that ruined the friend group and I still feel pretty insecure about what happened. I don't think I should've threatened violence but they all say "chat shit get hit". so idk. AITA? sorry for how long this is lmao

What are these acronyms?

[randomwelcomehomestuff]

Unfinished Business: a Welcome Home Corpse Puppet AU fanfiction

A/N: Just here to let you know that I'm not creative. Like, at all. This is a fanfic of a fanfic inspired by a fan-made AU of a completely unrelated work, but I couldn't get it out of my head so maybe now my brain will be at peace so I can work on my original story (or it will come up with fifty other fanfic ideas because that's more fun than editing).

Anyway, Welcome Home belongs to Clown/partycoffin, the Corpse Puppet AU belongs to @sketchquill, and the fanfic this is based on is a Corpse Bride/Nightmare Before Christmas crossover fic called The Undead Groom by moviefan_92 on Ao3.

Spoiler Alert for all of that media, plus a little for the novel The Pumpkin Queen just because there's a reference here and there, but not too much.

Also C/W: There's a lot of major character death in here.

I may add more to it later if inspiration strikes. Let me know in the comments if you are interested in that.

Okay, I'll shut up, now. Here's the fic.

The carriage jostled down the muddy dirt road. You wrung the handkerchief in your hands as you gazed out the window at the grey sky, occasionally distracted by the raindrops trailing down the glass. Try as you might, you just couldn't cry. You wanted to, but no tears would come.

At least the dreary weather was appropriate for a funeral.

Howdy was watching you. He wasn't one to judge his spouse's appearance, but he did decide that funeral black did not suit you particularly well. Not when he'd seen you in so many other bright, cheerful colors, when you had been happy. When you were like this—mourning—the sparkle in your eyes was gone. He thought you were beautiful when you were happy, somehow still hauntingly so when you were sad, but he would be lying if he said he didn't prefer seeing you smile or laugh.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “I know you and Eddie were close.”

You sighed. “I'll be fine. This isn't my first time dealing with grief.”

Yes, Howdy knew that all too well. The first several days of your marriage had been more awkward than they probably should have been for... obvious reasons. Any time he caught you staring despondently out the window, he knew deep down that you were thinking of Wally.

That didn't have a negative impact on your marriage, though. You were strong and optimistic, and Howdy shared many happy memories with you. You taught him how to play piano, and he in turn taught you how to garden. You even started a small orchard together. Howdy couldn't think of many more signs of a happy home than the smell of apple blossoms in the garden and hallways filled with the sounds of music and laughter. You were comfortable, and your fortunes were secure, (that was the most important thing to both of your parents, and neither of you could ask for much more than your parents' satisfaction).

Most of all, you and Howdy loved each other. Howdy had accepted long ago that yours was a love built off of friendship and mutual respect rather than romance, but it was enough for him, (considering what he grew up witnessing from his parents, he counted that as the greatest success of them all). You recently celebrated your copper anniversary, which baffled Howdy. How could seven years fly by so quickly? Thinking back on everything, he knew that he was completely satisfied with where his life was, as long as you were by his side and happy.

Which is why he hated to see you so sad. He wouldn't rush you through your grief, but he could at least help lighten the load. “Would you like to talk about it?” he asked.

You looked down at the handkerchief in your hands, wadded up beyond recognition, but still as dry as it was when Howdy handed it to you. You smoothed it out over your lap and stared at Howdy's initials embroidered in green in the corner.

Howdy watched you, patient. A deep rumble of thunder rolled through the sky outside.

“I just... hate how somber it was,” you said.

“Funerals typically are.”

“I know, but Eddie wouldn't have wanted that. He was so much more cheerful and... and colorful than that. He'd want people telling funny stories about him and celebrating his life, not... just standing in silence while the dirt is thrown over his casket.” Your shoulders stiffened. “I should have said something.” Now you could feel the tears building up, but they simply would not come. I should be crying. Why am I not crying?

Howdy leaned forward and took your hand, and you finally looked into his eyes. He was smiling. “He's in a better place, now.”

You smiled at that. Seven years ago, those words would have felt like a hollow attempt at consolation, but now they were a real comfort. Howdy was there when the dead came up to the Land of the Living. He witnessed Eddie and Frank briefly reunite. Now they would never be separated again, and he knew it as well as you did.

Perhaps that was why you couldn't cry: you knew that good things were waiting for Eddie on the other side.

The tears finally spilled over and rolled down your cheeks, but they were not tears of sorrow. You were happy.

Howdy used two of his free hands to cup your face. His smile was soft and understanding as he thumbed away your tears. You stood and shifted over to the seat across from you so you could sit beside him, and his four arms wrapped you up into a tight hug. He pressed a kiss into the top of your head, like he had so many times before. “Everything will be alright,” he whispered.

“I know,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

Lightning flashed outside, followed by a loud clap of thunder. You gripped at Howdy's coat as he leaned forward to look out the window. “That storm is getting much worse.”

“Should we stop somewhere?” you asked.

He nodded. “Most likely.” He reached up to knock on the ceiling of the coach. “Johnson? How are the roads looking?” he called.

Johnson, the driver, shouted something back to Howdy, but his voice was drowned out by a deafening crash. A blinding white light flooded the carriage and the horses whinnied outside in terror. You tried to lean forward to look out the window, but the horses bolted and the momentum sent you crashing to the floor of the coach. You could hear Johnson yelling. Howdy grabbed your arm and tried to haul you back into the seat, but when you looked out the window, what you saw made you freeze.

Lightning had struck a nearby tree. It was on fire. Johnson seemed to have lost the reins, because you could see them flapping in the wind by the window. Howdy was calling your name. Johnson was screaming at the horses to stop.

The carriage was passing the flaming tree right as it started to crackle and groan.

You jumped back into the seat and grabbed Howdy. One of his hands grasped the back of your head and his body tensed around you as if he was bracing himself.

It only took a few seconds—three at most—but it felt like an eternity.

Wood splintered around you as the carriage shattered. A heavy weight came down on you and Howdy, and for a brief, macabre moment, you were amazed by how fragile your bodies really were.

Then everything went black.

There was nothing but darkness for a long time. You tried to move, tried to call out for Howdy, but nothing happened. You were just... nothing.

That thought scared you. There was so much more than that. Light. Color. Noises and smells. Life. You couldn't be nothing, that just wasn't possible. You had memories and goals. You had a spouse and a family. You had an estate to attend to you. You couldn't just... not be.

Panic twisted your stomach into knots, clawed its way up your throat, and came out of your mouth as a scream: “Help! Help me!”

“Alright, alright! Calm down!”

You stopped. That voice sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who it was.

Then you heard another, timid voice. “Is it always like this?”

That one you did recognize, because you had just heard it a few days ago. It was Eddie. Your instinct was to gasp, but you couldn't. I can't breathe. Oh, God, I can't breathe.

The first voice spoke again: “Often, yes. It all depends on the person and how at peace they are.”

There was a shuffling nearby. It was odd, despite the panic coursing through you, your body was strangely... calm. You expected your heart to be thumping fast and heavy in your ears and for your palms to be sweaty, but there was nothing.

The space above you shifted with a low creak and light stabbed your eyes. You flinched, blinked, then stared at the two faces above you blurring into focus.

Eddie and Frank were leaned over, looking down at you. They both offered you sad, soft smiles.

Your neck was stiff as you looked around. Your were laying in some sort of bed. It wasn't comfortable; even though it was all silk, there was no cushion, and the pillow at your head was much too small. Your mind was sluggish like you had just woken from a long nap. You had to blink several times and crane your neck to the left before you realized that Frank was holding open a lid.

You were in a casket.

Your tongue felt like cement in your mouth as you stammered, “Am... am I d-dead?”

Eddie gave you a pitying look. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Come on,” Frank said, “the sooner you get on your feet, the better you'll feel.” He and Eddie grabbed you under your arms and hoisted you out of the casket, which was sitting on a table. They helped you find your footing and Frank instructed you through some stretches to shake off the rigor mortis. You took a moment to look around.

You were in a sort of cavern, full of other caskets sitting on tables. Some looked new, others old and decayed.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“The Land of the Dead. Specifically, an offshoot of our village, just below the graveyard where you were buried,” Frank said.

You felt dizzy. “So... the crash... I didn't make it.”

Eddie put his hand on your shoulder. “No one made it except the driver. When the tree fell, he got thrown off, but he survived. Poor man blames himself for what happened. Thinks he should have kept better hold of the reins or suggested you leave sooner to avoid the storm.” He squeezed your shoulder. “They say you and Howdy died in each other's arms.”

“Howdy...” Your stomach was churning and you wondered if you could still get sick even if you were dead.

Eddie nodded. “Frank had to break a couple of rules, but we went to the Land of the Living to see your funeral—”

“From a safe distance, of course,” Frank interrupted.

“Of course. Your parents spared no expense. They got you a big, beautiful gravestone and there were flowers everywhere. You and Howdy were buried next to each other in the outfits you got married in.”

You glanced down at yourself for the first time and realized he was right, you were wearing the outfit your mother had picked out for your wedding, complete with your wedding band on your left hand.

Not only that, but you were also wearing the other wedding band on your right hand. Wally's wedding band. It was the same ring Wally had worn all those years ago, after you had practiced your vows in the woods. You ended up keeping it for myself since Howdy's mother insisted that you purchase new rings for your next attempt at getting married, (”I'll have no cursed rings at this ceremony,” she said). You could never bring yourself to get rid of it, though, and eventually fell into the habit of wearing it on your right hand while you wore your actual wedding ring on your left.

You were surprised that you had been buried with it, considering everything. Perhaps your family decided that since you wore it all the time, it held sentimental value to you and you'd want to keep it. Or, you shuddered to consider this, your hands were too swollen to get it off.

You shook those thoughts away and looked back to Eddie. “Where is Howdy?” you asked. “If he was buried next to me, shouldn't he be here?”

Frank and Eddie exchanged a glance. “We aren't sure where he is,” Eddie said.

“We've been keeping an eye out for him, but we think he's gone to the upstairs,” Frank added.

“The upstairs?”

“Heaven, Paradise, Nirvana, whatever you call it. You can go to whatever version of the afterlife you choose once you pass on. Unless you're someone like Julie.” They frowned. “Someone like that who has caused suffering for others doesn't get a choice. She's downstairs.”

“So, if there's an upstairs and a downstairs, where are we? The ground floor?”

Frank's mouth twitched into a smile. “Something like that. The people who end up here usually either can't make up their mind where they want to go or have unfinished business. You could join Howdy upstairs, if you wanted.”

You considered this, but the idea made your head spin. Where exactly did Howdy go, and how would you go about joining him?

Frank nodded to a nearby hallway. “We can talk more about this, later. Come on, the others are waiting to see you.”

The others. You perked up a bit remembering them. Sally, Poppy, Barnaby, even your old dog, Scraps. You followed Frank out of the cavern, and Eddie fell into step beside you, whistling a cheery tune as you walked.

The bells were already ringing by the time you reached the village, and as you got closer to the old tavern you could hear a chorus of voices all calling out, “New arrival! New arrival!”

Eddie chuckled beside you. “Poppy is up to her ears in cooking. They just had a Welcome Feast for me the other day.”

You tried to swallow, but your mouth was too dry. God, Eddie's, funeral was just the other day, and now here you were. You weren't sure if you could take part in any kind of feast; your mind was still reeling from everything that had happened.

You entered the tavern and were immediately greeted by Sally, the tragic Shakespearean actor, who gripped your hand and was roughly shaking it as soon as you stepped through the door. “Well, it's about time you showed up!” she said.

“Easy, Sally. Y/N is still adjusting,” Frank said as they came in beside you.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sally said as she tugged you across the room and sat you down at a bar. “So how'd it happen?”

You cleared your throat. “Um. A carriage accident.”

She whistled. “Wow, that's a rough way to go. Do you remember any of it?”

“Not really. I got knocked out pretty quickly.”

There was a loud thud beside you as a familiar, tall blue dog plopped down in the seat on your other side. “Welp, that's good at least,” Barnaby said as he handed you a frothing mug of beer.

“Sure is. Not remembering violent deaths makes the transition a little easier.”

Barnaby leaned over, his eyeball rolling into his right socket, and peered at you. “And judging by all the schmutz on your face, I'm guessing it wasn't a pretty sight.”

“Schmutz?” You gently touched your face and realized that you had a very thick layer of makeup on.

“Oh yeah! We need to get that off you right away. It looks awful.” Sally stood up and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Poppyyyyyy! I need a mirrooooooooor!”

“One moment, please!” a high-pitched, crow-like voice squawked from the kitchen. “Goodness me, I'm going to start molting again from all these feasts.” Poppy walked into the space behind the bar, wiping her wings on her apron, and she looked up at you. “Oh, my dear Y/N. I heard the rumors, but I didn't know if they were true. I'm so sorry.”

You couldn't help but smile at Poppy, remembering the way she comforted you when you first came here and were scared out of your wits. “I'm fine. It's good to see you again.”

She smiled back at you before digging through her apron pocket. “Let's see, I think I have a mirror in here, somewhere. Ah!” She withdrew a tiny hand mirror and handed it to you. “Please don't be insulted, but whoever did your funeral makeup certainly did you a disservice.”

You looked into the mirror and blanched when you realized that they were right. The makeup didn't match your skin tone and made you look horribly discolored, and they seemed to try and make up for that by applying huge splotches of rouge to your cheeks and lips. You grimaced at your reflection.

“Uh huh. Here,” Sally said while handing you a rag.

You went to work cleaning up your face and neck, scrubbing the makeup away. You froze when you glanced at your reflection again and noticed just how much you had changed. Your skin had taken on a bluish tint, and you had massive stitches across your neck and down your right temple. You gently prodded at your temple and flinched when a fraction of your skull shifted under your touch. No, the accident wasn't pretty at all.

Sally noticed this and took the rag and mirror from you. “Here, I'll finish,” she said.

“You'll get used to it,” Barnaby said as Sally got to work. “Imagine how Poppy was when she first got here and saw that half of her face was missing.”

Sally finished and nodded with satisfaction. “There. Now you look like one of us!”

“The stitches are a nice touch, too. Makes you look like a pirate,” Barnaby said.

Sally gasped. “Oooo. We could do a production of The Pirates of Penzance! Are you a good singer?”

“Me? Well, uh—”

Barnaby laughed then stood up. “Care if I go ahead and audition?” He started singing “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General” before anyone could protest, going out of his way to use a silly voice and make larger-than-life funny gestures.

Eddie took Barnaby's seat beside you and helped himself to the drink that Poppy put down in front of him. “So, what do you think you're going to do now?”

You pondered this for a moment. “I'm not sure. What can I do?”

“Whatever you want, really. You could move on to another afterlife upstairs, or you could stay here. Take care of whatever unfinished business you have.”

You shrugged. “I guess that's why I'm here, huh? I just can't make up my mind?”

Poppy leaned against the bar and giggled. “Oh, no. I think you do have unfinished business.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

Sally's attention was brought back to you and she propped her elbows on the bar, giving you a sly smile. “Oh, yeah. And I bet we all know what it is.”

“I'm confused,” you said.

“Oh, come on. Do we really need to spell it out for you?” she said with a groan. “How about the guy you almost drank poison for?”

Your eyes widened. “Wally?”

Sally and Poppy both nodded. Barnaby gave up on his performance when he realized no one was watching him juggle three empty beer mugs and approached you again. “Sounds about right,” he said.

“But that's not possible. Wally, he... he's gone. I saw him disappear.”

Frank approached you from behind and placed their hand on your shoulder. “He's not gone. Souls don't just disappear like that.”

“Yeah, and he visited us a couple of weeks ago,” Barnaby added.

You felt something deep within you—your heart, maybe? even though it wasn't beating anymore?—jump up at the revelation. “Where is he? Upstairs?”

“Nah, I think Poppy would have let us know if he was living in the attic.” Barnaby laughed when Frank gave him a sharp glare.

“Not precisely. Last I heard, he's residing in another in-between kind of place. It's a little bit harder to get there since it's separate from our world, but he's figured it out well enough that he still visits us from time to time,” Frank said.

Your throat clenched like a fist and your eyes were stinging. You pressed your hands against your mouth and sniffled.

Poppy grinned. “I knew it.”

“Please. We all knew it,” Sally said.

“How do I find him?” you said.

Frank put a hand to his chin. “Well, he told me that there are a couple of ways to get there, but for most of them you have to know what you're looking for. I haven't been able to go there, myself, so I won't be very much help, there.” They tapped his jaw and hummed a bit in thought. “I suppose I could give you the spell I gave Wally before. It's a bit of a gamble, but I'm sure it won't be much of a problem for you. It's a spell to help you find your heart's desire. I gave it to him when he first got here in case he ever changed his mind about that unfinished business of his, and he kept it with him for years. Didn't use it until that day in the Land of the Living.”

You remembered that moment vividly, when you watched as Wally's body dissolved into hundreds of blue and grey butterflies. “That was a spell? I thought he was gone.”

Frank shook his head. “I think once he decided that he was satisfied, he needed something to help him move on. He's happy where he is now, if not a little lonely.”

You hugged yourself. You had never considered the possibility of seeing Wally again, and now that you were told that it was possible, your heart seemed to sing at the idea. But something was holding you back.

“What about Howdy?”

Frank sighed. “I can't help you with that. I'm afraid that's a decision you'll have to make on your own.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Eddie said, “you're not limited to one place. You can visit each afterlife whenever you want. I visited my parents in the upstairs the other day, but I'm staying here to be with Frank.” As he said this, he took Frank's hand and gave them a sweet smile. “So, uh, if you want to see Howdy again, you can. But you don't have to stay anywhere. You're free to do what you want.”

That seemed to loosen some of the tension in your chest. You took a deep breath and let your heart take over. “Okay. How do I use that spell?”

Frank smiled. “We'll need to get some things out of my office.”

You stood and followed Frank out the door. Sally whooped behind you, “Woo hoo! Lover boy's getting his partner back!”

“We'll have that Welcome Feast another time, alright?” Poppy called.

Barnaby just hummed to himself, considering adding another verse to “Remains of the Day” so that the story would have a happy ending, after all. Then again, he'd probably have to sacrifice the catchy instrumental part in the middle so the song wasn't too long, and he wasn't willing to do that.

You and Eddie stood in silence as you watched Frank dig through his various supplies. He scrutinized their spell book as he carefully measured and combined the ingredients. When they were finished, he handed you a small capsule the size of a marble.

“This is it?” you asked.

He nodded. “It looks unassuming, but it is a very powerful spell. All you have to do is crush it in your hand and you'll be sent to wherever your heart's desire is. Though, you may need to try and focus on one thing, or else you may get sent to the wrong place.”

“But don't worry. If you get lost, just find a graveyard and enter a crypt to go underground, and you'll find a village associated with that grave yard. You should be able to find your way back from there,” Eddie said.

You nodded, staring at the capsule in the palm of your hand.

Without warning, Eddie pulled you into a hug. “Take care of yourself, okay, bud? And you'd better visit us all the time, or I'll come find you, myself.”

You smiled and leaned into his hug. “I will. I promise.”

Frank sniffed and cleared their throat, trying to hide the fact that you reminded him of themselves when he was young and fell in love with Eddie for the first time. “Alright, go on before Eddie decides to make you stay here.”

You turned to Frank and gave him a hug, too. “Thank you,” you whispered.

They awkwardly patted your back. “Of course.” He led you out to his balcony that overlooked the village. “I will warn you, it may be a bit of a bumpy ride.”

You walked to the edge of the balcony, looked back over your shoulder at them as Eddie put his arm around Frank. You took a deep breath—just out of habit at this point, and it was an odd sensation to feel your lungs stretch for the first time in a while—then turned your face up. You closed your eyes and pictured Wally, wherever he was, then you squeezed your right hand until the capsule burst and a fine powder spilled out between your fingers.

Nothing happened, at first. You opened your eyes again and looked down, wondering if you'd done something wrong.

But then you felt another strange sensation: an unraveling, like your body was falling away from you. A gust of wind swirled around you, your feet and the tips of your fingers tingled, and your body transformed into hundreds of butterflies.

Just like Wally.

Normally, you would have been frightened. You weren't. Your heart jumped up in your throat with excitement. You almost laughed, but your face and mouth had been transformed by then.

You were jumbling, fluttering, riding on the wind current, spread out in a great cloud of delicate wings. You tumbled through the air, trying and failing to grasp what was happening and where you were going. The world flew past you in a blur. You felt free.

You jolted when your feet suddenly met solid ground. You blinked, held your hands out in front of you and found them whole again.

You were in a circular clearing in the middle of a grove of trees. You spun around in a circle, taking in your surroundings. The trees were all tall and dark, and each tree on the edge of this clearing had a door carved into it. A four-leaf clover, a big red heart, a Christmas tree? An Easter egg? These were all symbols associated with holidays.

“Oh!” a quiet voice sounded behind you. You turned to face them and stared, slack-jawed, at the person who met you. She was a tall, slender woman standing at the edge of the grove. Her skin was made of a blue fabric and she had long, red hair and wore a colorful, patchwork dress. A small basked was hanging from the crook of her arm, stuffed with sprigs of lavender. Her round, glassy, babydoll eyes blinked at you. She smiled and dipped her head down. “I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting to find anyone else here.”

You struggled to find your words as you were still wrapping your head around the concept that a giant rag doll was talking to you. This was all a lot for you to take in one day. You coughed and said, “No, I'm sorry. I'm just... looking for someone.”

The woman tilted her head. “Is that so? Who are you looking for?”

“A man named Wally Darling. He's a...” You hesitated, unsure how foreign this would be to her.

But she finished the sentence for you. “A corpse? Like you?”

You smiled bashfully. “Yes.”

The woman grinned even bigger. “Then it's a good thing I found you. He's from the same town as me.”

That jolt of excitement shot through you again. It seemed like the spell that Frank made for you worked like a charm. “Really? Can you take me there?”

“Of course.” She walked up to you, her stride small and with a noticeable limp, thought she didn't seem to be in pain. She held out her hand. “My name is Sally, by the way,” she said.

Another Sally, you thought. You shook her hand and introduced yourself. She nodded, then motioned to the side toward a tree with a door shaped like a jack-o-lantern in it. “We'll be heading to Halloween Town. This is the fastest way there,” she continued. She limped to the tree, turned the knob that was disguised as the jack-o-lantern's nose, and the door swung outward. You cautiously approached it and looked down into the hollow tree. There was nothing but darkness, and the door opened to a steep drop-off that you couldn't see the bottom of.

“I find it easiest to just close my eyes and jump,” she said. “I know it can be a bit intimidating sometimes, but I promise, it's perfectly safe. My husband and I come through here all the time.”

You swallowed, grabbed hold of the doorway, and shut your eyes. A gentle breeze blew through, carrying the comforting scent of fallen leaves and caramel apples. A smile crept onto your face, and you pulled yourself through the doorway and jumped.

There was only a second of free fall before you landed smartly on your rear end in a giant pile of leaves. You grunted and clambered to your feet.

Sally appeared beside you. “Are you alright? That happens a lot for first-timers.”

You straightened up and said, “Yeah, I'm fine. Not like I can get much worse.”

She giggled at that and motioned for you to follow her. You walked together down a dirt path that cut through the woods and she asked you about where you came from and how you got here. She was a good listener as you told her everything.

“How do you know Wally?” she asked.

“We, um...” Your face heated up and you found yourself fiddling with the band on your right hand. “It's a long story. Let's just say we're... old friends.”

“I see,” she said with a knowing look that made you blush more. But then she looked forward and said, “Here we are.”

You both crested a hill and looked down on an archway with “Halloween Town” spelled out in black, iron letters. A large town bustled with activity down below. The architecture was conflictingly made of a combination of twisting, curving lines and jagged, sharp angles, and the citizens seemed to enjoy and monochrome color palette with occasional splashes of bright color. You followed Sally down the path and entered the town.

You had to keep yourself from gawking when you saw the first couple of citizens gathered in the town square: a wolf man dressed in tattered flannel chatting with a bulking man dressed in overalls with an axe stuck in his head. They both gawked at you, though, when you came into a view.

“Look! Queen Sally has brought in someone new!” the wolf man exclaimed with a gravelly voice.

You glanced at her. “Queen Sally?”

She blushed. “Ah, yes, I didn't mention that. I'm the Pumpkin Queen.”

“Oh!” You fumbled and started to bow, but Sally stopped you.

“Please, don't. That's exactly why I don't go around announcing that to everyone. Just treat me like you would anyone else.”

You nodded. “Sorry.”

“And don't apologize, either.” She hooked her arm around yours and said, “Now, let's go find Wally.”

She led you away, but not before you noticed that a trio of women, (witches, you guessed, based on their clothes and pointed hats) had gathered around the wolf man and were whispering conspiratorially.

You hadn't gone far before you stumbled upon two more citizens: a man wearing a long trench coat and tall, thin top hat, and an even taller, thin, and gangly skeleton dressed in a pin-stripped suit with tails on his coat and a bat bowtie. They were both leaned over something on a table.

Sally perked up a bit beside you. “Oh, that's my husband over there. He may know where Wally is.” She waved her free hand and called, “Jack! Jack!”

The skeleton looked up and his face split into a wide, toothy grin. “Sally! Perfect timing! Mr. Hyde and I were just testing out his newest creation. Would you care to see?”

She nodded and walked to the table, where Jack presented her with a large, orange bowl of candy with a small sign taped to the front that read “Just Take One.”

“A seemingly normal bowl, yes? Perfectly welcoming to trick-or-treaters.”

“Of course,” she agreed.

“Go and take a piece. Just one.”

Sally did as he said a delicately picked up a wrapped piece of butterscotch. She waited a moment, then raised a brow at him. “Is that all?”

“Precisely, because you were good and only took one. Now, pretend you are a greedy trick-or-treater and try to grab a handful.”

Sally nodded and drove her hand into the bowl, grabbing a large handful of candy, when a ghostly hand jumped from within the depths of the bowl and grabbed her wrist. She gasped, startled, then laughed. “What fun!”

Jack clapped Mr. Hyde on the back. “You see? A brilliant idea! I knew you were an excellent choice for the knew town scientist. Well done!”

Mr Hyde chuckled, pleased with himself. “You flatter me, Jack.”

Sally gently tugged at Jack's arm and whispered to him. He looked at you and his eyes lit up. “Oh, my apologies! I was so caught up in my work, I hadn't noticed you there.” He swept into a low bow. “Jack Skellington, Pumpkin King and Co-Representative of Halloween.” He stood upright and draped an arm over Sally's shoulder. “And you've already met my wife and partner, Sally.” He looked you up and down, then beamed. “We don't get very many new faces, but you seem like you'll fit right in, here.”

You cleared your throat and said, “Actually, Mr. uh, Skellington—”

“Please, Jack is fine.”

“Jack,” you corrected, “I'm actually looking for someone. Wally Darling?”

He raised a brow and glanced at Sally, who only smiled up at him. “Your name wouldn't happen to be Y/N, would it?”

Your eyes widened. “Yes. Why?”

“He talks about you all the time. Oh, he'll be over the moon when he sees you!”

You could have sworn that your heart thudded hearing that, but that couldn't have been possible, could it?

Jack tilted his head and hummed. “I just saw him a moment ago. I may know where he is. Follow me!” He let go of Sally and strode away. You glanced at Sally and she nodded to you, urging you forward, then you jogged to follow the skeleton.

Jack led the way down a twisting cobblestone path that led out of the town and into farmland that mostly consisted of pumpkins. He led you through a graveyard and up a steep hill, and his long strides took him up the hill faster than you could keep up with. You couldn't run out of breath, anymore, but that didn't stop your muscles from aching as you hiked after him. As you reached the top of the hill, you could see another hill in the distance that made the shape of a spiral. As you took in the view, your gaze wandered from the massive spiral and down to the bottom where another there was another pumpkin patch.

You froze when you saw him. There was no mistaking him with his blue, patchwork skin and signature hair style. He wasn't wearing the wedding tuxedo anymore; now he donned a simple white shirt and blue striped pants. He was seated at a stool in the middle of the pumpkin patch with an easel in front of him, hard at work on a painting. You would have gasped if you still had breath, and your body moved before you completely comprehended what you were seeing.

Wally.

As you came closer, you could see that he was recreating the view of the spiral hill on his painting. His back was to you, and he hummed quietly as he worked, so deep in thought that he didn't notice you and Jack approaching until Jack called his name.

“Wally! I thought we'd find you here.” Jack leaned over Wally's shoulder and looked at the painting. “Ah, is this my commission? It's coming along swimmingly.”

All you saw was Wally's side profile as he smiled up at Jack. “Thank you. I'm just touching up a few details, right now. It should be finished in a day or so, when it dries.”

“It will be a wonderful anniversary gift. Sally will love it!”

Wally turned back to his painting, and Jack glanced at you like he'd just remembered you were there. “Actually, Wally, I needed to speak to you.”

“Hm?”

“It seems,” Jack said, putting his hand on Wally's shoulder, “that someone is here to see you.”

Wally gave Jack a confused look, then turned.

His eyes widened, and the paintbrush fell from his limp fingers.

Neither of you moved. His eyes trailed up and down your body. He stood, took a few hesitant steps forward, and said, “Y/N?”

You smiled. “Hello, Wally,” you said.

Jack was beaming.

Wally blinked, then shook his head. “I'm dreaming.”

You almost laughed. Your hands were shaking. “No, you're not.”

“I am. You... you can't be here. It's not possible.”

“Wally...”

“I'm going to open my eyes, and you'll be gone.”

You approached him, took his hand, and pressed it against your face. His eyes dilated and his mouth fell open.

“I'm here,” you whispered.

He studied your face, and his fingers trailed down your jaw and to your neck, where they found the stitches. He glanced at them, and his mouth opened wider. “Oh...” His other hand found your neck and he gently traced the stitches. He gently turned your head from side to side as he looked you over like he was just noticing the bluish tint your skin had taken, and his gaze fell on the stitches on your temple. “What happened?”

“A carriage accident.”

He covered his mouth. “Oh, no...”

You took his hand again. “It's alright. I don't remember anything.”

You noticed tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

You cupped his cheek. “Don't be. I'm alright.”

Jack coughed. “I believe you two will be wanting some time alone?” He leaned down and whispered to Wally, “I recommend the top of Spiral Hill. Very romantic spot.” He winked, and Wally started to blush.

“Thank you,” he mumbled before he gripped your hand tightly and led you toward Spiral Hill. You trudged to the top together, hand in hand, and you looked out over the view of the graveyard and pumpkin patch, grey and black with dots of orange.

Wally turned to you and took a tight hold of both your hands. “Tell me everything.”

You didn't speak, because with him holding your hands I noticed something for the first time. When you had met before, when you were still alive, whenever he touched you his skin was always freezing cold. Now it wasn't. You realized it was because we were the same temperature. It made you want to hold him closer.

“I already told you, I was in a carriage accident.”

“No, no. I mean... tell me about your life. What happened after I left?”

“You want me to tell you all of that? Right now?”

He nodded. “We have all the time in the world, now.”

You grinned, and then you did just that. You told him about your marriage to Howdy, the relationship you had formed, the good and bad times, and you told him that during those seven years, you never forgot him. You were afraid that he would be upset or sad when you told him about your marriage, but he seemed to be the contrary.

“I'm glad,” he said. “I was hoping I was making the right decision. It's good to know that you lived a good life after I was gone, even if... even if it was a short one.”

He had looked away, and you gently cupped his cheek so that he would look at you. “The others in the Land of the Dead said that the reason I stayed behind was likely because I had unfinished business. At first, I didn't know what they were talking about, but I think I do, now.” Despite building up to that, you suddenly became bashful and couldn't quite find the words.

Wally touched your hand on his face and leaned into it. “You were looking for me?”

You nodded. “The thing is... I missed y—”

He interrupted you by pressing his lips to yours.

He had only ever kissed you once before, that night on the bridge. You weren't sure if that even counted since you fainted when he did. You remembered being terrified back then, your stomach swirling and your heart thumping so hard and fast you thought you were about to have a heart attack. You remembered how cold his lips were, and how dizzy you were from the fear.

This was different. Obviously, you weren't afraid, now, but it was more than that. It was rushed and passionate, not the formal seal of the vows that Wally had done before. And it was warm. You still felt dizzy, though.

When he pulled away, you stared into each other's eyes for a moment, then you took his shoulders and pulled him back to you for another kiss. Your hand went to the back of his head and your fingers tangled into his soft hair. His hands trailed up and down your back. You gripped each other as if the second one of you let go, you'd be lost forever. You finally pulled away again when you heard the sound of an applause in the distance.

At the top of one of the nearby hills, a small crowd of monsters and ghouls had formed, and they were whooping and cheering. Jack and Sally stood at the center of the crowd, smiling up at you as Sally leaned into Jack's shoulder.

“So much for alone time,” you muttered. You turned back to Wally to see him beaming up at you. His eyes sparkled.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up into a twirl. You yelped in surprise and gripped his shoulders. He laughed heartily as he set you back down, then he leaned his forehead into yours, and for a moment you simply relished in each other's company.

“Thank you,” he said. “I've missed you, too. I know that I was selfish before, but I really am glad that you came to find me.”

You were surprised to feel your heart melting a bit when he said that—it seemed that even if your heart didn't beat anymore, it was still capable of swelling and melting with emotion.

The ring on your right hand glinted in the moonlight. A knot formed in your throat. “I think... I think I know what my unfinished business is, now.”

Wally tilted his head, curious.

You took the ring off your finger and held it up to him. “I want to try again. Properly, this time. Nothing in our way, and no interruptions. I want to give you the wedding you deserve.”

Wally's eyes widened a bit, then he chuckled and shook his head. “It was never just about the wedding, you know. I wanted true love. A happy ending.”

“Exactly,” you said. “I want to give you that. A big, beautiful ceremony to celebrate true love, and a real happily ever after.” You cleared your throat, suddenly nervous. “If you'd like that, I mean.”

He broke into a wide smile. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

You nodded. “Yes. Will you marry me? Again?”

He laughed again and pulled you into a hug. “Yes. If you will have me.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into the hug. “Of course I will.”

You finally pulled apart once again to slip the band on Wally's finger, right where it belonged.

A/N: Yes, I already know I'm cringe. Don't look at me.

[crassjellyfish]

Hello! Sorry if this is random. You know the band the mechanisms? Anyway. So im trying to hunt down the source for the Folly Bridge Inn Photos.

You are, so far as i can tell, the first person to ever repost the attached image in a location i can find other than the original source it came from. Might i inquire where you got it from? im looking for higher pixel variants of them.

(you sent it in the mechscord in 2020, for context)

im very enthusiastic about photo archeology in this band. hope u have a lovely rest of your day!!

hello! oh my goodness i'm so shocked to hear that i was the first to post that omg??? that show has some of my favorite mechs images (especially the one with tim with the blue lights on him). in 2020-2021 i was so far down the mechanism's rabbit hole, my friends and i were sleuthing our way to every picture we could find. i'm not in the mechscord anymore so it's crazy to see things i posted in there pop up from time to time. i think i also shared an old pattern i wrote for crochet octokittens at some point in there too!

i went back through some old documents i've got and it looks like that photo you're talking about may have come from this flikr page. i was mostly posting from mobile and it was likely a screenshot that i edited down, so that would probably account for the drop in image quality between the source and my post in the discord lol.

there are also lots of photos from curious magpie photography from around that same time (and much later, they have albums from 2011-2018) as well as nicole w who has pictures from 2013-2020.

(also, I may be incorrect, but i think that last page belongs to @wickedacephotos here on tumblr? i could be wrong but they have lots of good photos either way!)

i was never good about crediting where i found pictures and i regret that now, so i'm happy to have the opportunity to share some of these sources, and i am very glad to see that the mechanism's archeological community lives on to the present day!!! i hope these helped, and please feel free to dm me about any others you may need help finding and i'll be happy to see what i can do!!!!