#Malicious mafioso

[dilatorywriting]

Hi hi! So this is a request for the 4k followers thing and if it sounds like word vomit I apologize cuz I have no idea how to word this. Could I ask for prompt 10 ("I think we should go to dinner first.") with mc x azul? The scenario here is like that one twitter post that was going around awhile ago about how a falls first but b falls harder, with a being azul and how once he realizes his feelings he resigns himself to forever pining from afar bc he's convinced himself that any relationship between them would be doomed to failure since mc is from another world and would have to go home someday. But while mc is a bit dense when it comes to their own romantic feelings they've always been an upfront person and as soon as they realize they like him they kinda just,,,, barge into his office and say so, and I feel like the sentence prompt would be said by azul after a pretty intense make out session (maybe nothing spicy spicy but yeah) where at the end oh yeah he remembers he's a gentleman

Also after a bit of searching I found the twitter post I was talking about

Gender Neutral Reader x Azul Ashengrotto Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 10: "I-I think we should go for dinner first."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Azul had been avoiding you.

Which was so strange and wholly out of character that the first few days of it went by in a weird sort of fugue. You hadn’t even noticed an entire week had passed in blissful, mafioso-free silence until you were heading to your Friday night shift at the Lounge and realized you hadn’t seen your favorite octopus even once. Normally the House Warden was fluttering around you like a scam artist to an old folks’ home. Poking, and prodding, and ‘ah, Prefect, I know you weren’t a fan of the last contract, but perhaps this one would suffice, hmm?’

And when you arrived in the little, employee-only locker room—still fully unbothered and not offered even a single opportunity to sell your soul—you wondered if maybe he’d gotten sick.

You were in the middle of taking some Savanaclaw student’s order when you finally saw him at all. Just a quick glance out of the corner of your eye to catch his shining, silver head of hair popping into his office. You smiled brightly and offered a wave. But Azul only went stiff and closed the door with a bang.

Which was…

Huh.

“Is Azul feeling okay?” you asked Jade between running an armload of drinks to a table of Pomefiore students.

The eel hummed and gave you one of those smiles that never really looked like it was meant to be a smile. “Our fearless leader is clinically sound.”

You frowned. Because that felt like one of the Vice Warden’s non-answers that he’d throw your way sometimes like a taller, meaner older sibling holding your favorite toy just out of reach.

“So he’s alright?” you pressed, hesitant.

“Oh, I never said that,” he chirped pleasantly, before ducking off to go catch the stack of plates that Floyd was in the process of juggling through the kitchen.

The bubbling panic popping in your gut was the worst sort of tummy ache. The kind that spread its miserable pain until it’d left your chest hurting, and head spinning, and something deeply wrong throbbing at the heart of you. Because Azul, despite his inherent tendencies to treat you like a particularly stupid pack mule, was still your best friend. The person you cared about most in all the world! Sure, he enjoyed bamboozling you and your fellow students, but, like he hadn’t done anything genuinely malicious in ages now! Like a paid hitman retiring into selling seedy vacation timeshares.

The idea of him just—just not wanting you anymore struck something horrible in you. Of finally realizing that the silly little human from worlds unknown wasn’t worth the wobbly pair of legs you were standing on. And it left you feeling small, and afraid, and—and—

“Oh? Are you feeling unwell, Prefect?” Jade called from somewhere behind you.

“Does Azul hate me?” you blurted out before you could help yourself.

The eel blinked his bi-colored eyes at you—slow and unbothered. Perhaps a bit surprised, if you had to put a name to the expression. Jade’s face was like that sometimes. An enigma. Like someone had wired him up just slightly wrong when putting it all together. On any other living creature, that sap-slow nonchalance would have certainly bordered on outright boredom, but you knew him well enough to know there was at least something else going on there.

“Why would he hate you?” he asked, equally dripping and slug slow.

“Because—!” you squawked, and waved your hands around your head. “Because!”

“I see,” he nodded. And then latched a gloved hand onto your shoulder and steered you back towards his boss’s office. He didn’t even bother to knock before wrenching the door open and shoving you inside.

Azul looked up with a start, eyes gone wide behind his glasses and jaw slack.

“What’s going—”

“The Prefect is on the verge of psychotic break,” Jade chirped helpfully, with a closed-eyed smile. “Please be delicate with them, hmm?”

And then slammed the door shut all over again. Leaving you alone with the guy who might have only very recently started to hate your guts. Or—or maybe he always had! And maybe you’d just been really, really dumb about picking it up! You wanted to scream. Or hide away forever. Azul looked like the latter was an exceptionally tempting idea, and you could see his blue eyes flicker around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

But the idea of him running away from you, that you’d never see him again—that he didn’t want to ever see you again—had something horribly enlightening clicking into place in your brain.

“Are you okay!” you asked, so loud it nearly rattled the furniture. And Azul flinched in surprise. “Did I do something wrong!”

“What?” he blinked, startled. “Of… Of course not.” He cleared his throat and stood carefully, making his way towards you in the manner one may approach a rabid racoon hiding under their porch. “Perhaps you should take a seat—”

“I can’t!” you cried, frantic. “Not if you’re upset!”

Another of those owlish, outright consternated bouts of blinking. “You can’t sit?”

“No!” you wailed. That prickling, hot, tight feeling nearly overflowing out of you. “Not if it’s my fault!”

His expression twisted up into something mulish and embarrassed, and he reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a soft huff.

“…it’s hardly your fault,” he said, sounding so stupidly sad that you just wanted to—to—

“How can I fix it?” you tried, panicked. Because he didn’t want to be around you anymore, and you couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t!

Azul sighed, gaze shifting away yet again. He offered you a tight, little smile that felt like all sorts of lies. “It’s alright, Prefect. Truly. It’s just something…” he trailed off, that forced smirk twitching off his lips like he couldn’t help it. “Something I’m learning to live with, hmm? Nothing terrible, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t have to live with something that’s bothering you,” you argued, firm. “You’re the king of fixing other people’s problems. You’re more than allowed to use all those connections and stuff to fix your own!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t really work like that,” he tried, awkward, and you steamrolled on.

“Why not?! You’re amazing! And fantastic! And I love you so much, and you should never have to be upset about anything. And if you’re not in my life for the rest of my life, I’d rather die!” you wailed, and gasped—clapping your hands together like the idea that had just blossomed in your skull was just beyond brilliant. “We should get married!” And then, to sweeten the deal, “Think of the tax benefits!”

“I—” Azul choked, going as red as a tomato. “Y-You—”

“—love you very much!” you finished helpfully.

He ducked his face into his hands, like he could scrub the blush right off his cheeks if he tried hard enough.

“Y-You can’t—” he spluttered into his gloves. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “It’s true!”

Azul’s shoulders hunched up like he was trying make himself very, very small. And then after a long moment of near hyperventilating into his palms, he finally looked back over at you from behind the shield of his fingers.

“You…” he swallowed. “You love me?”

You nodded, certain. Becauese what else could that warm, bright, all-consuming thing be in your chest be but that?

“You,” he said again. “Love me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, never more sure of anything than that. “And we should get married.”

Azul choked again and went back to hiding behind his fingers.

“Unless…” you started, trailing off as something horrible and unsure squirmed through your chest. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. It should be your choice too. Just because I love you, doesn’t mean you have to love me, y’know?”

“That’s not what I said!” he squawked, head snapping back up so fast he nearly knocked the glasses off his face. And then he went red all over again, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he was reaching up to pull the rim of his hat down over his eyes with a curse. “I just…” he began, muffled behind the fabric of his overcoat. “Maybe… dinner first?” he choked. “Before the proposal.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. “Of course. That makes sense.”

“That makes sense,” Azul echoed, sounding like you’d come up from behind him and walloped him with a baseball bat rather than just suggested a completely rational and beneficial mutual engagement. “I… I don’t know why I’m surprised at all.”

You quirked a brow. “Were you… expecting me to say that?” you asked confused.

This time he did look back up at you fully. Hands lowered, and the shield of his collar gone and all. The smile he sent you was small but so, heartachingly warm that it had butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“No,” he hummed, sounding impossibly pleased. “I really, really wasn’t.”

.

.

[narrators-journal]

Gimmme AkuAtsu for day 7, i dont care what it is but i want em. >:)))))

You get Sex toys bc I couldn't come up with something for costumes lol

CW: Sex toys, plus a little bit of an exhibitionism angle for some extra fun <3

God, why did I agree to this? Atsushi thought as he fought to keep his face from turning a thousand vibrant shades of red while he browsed the produce section of the supermarket. Though, he knew exactly why he agreed. It was out of a foolish sense of perverse pride. 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke was a violent, sadistic man. But, he was also loyal, and when he cared about you, he often jumped at any chance to show you, no matter how violent. So, once they both learned to put Dazai's toxic influence aside, it became easy to see plenty to fall for in the goth. The surprise came when the topic of sex came up. Judging by their first few times together, Atsushi had assumed Akutagawa wasn't that adventurous in bed. However, with a little more probing that assumption was proven wrong.

"You think I'm vanilla?!" The goth had laughed, Almost making himself go into a coughing fit when Atsushi had brought it up. Too busy laughing to bother with the heated glare the weretiger shot him, "Jinko, I am far from vanilla. The only reason you and I haven't done anything is that you're too much of a coward." That hit Atsushi's ego like a laser-guided missile.

"What the hell do you mean I'm too much of a coward?! You don't know shit about my sexual desires! for all you know I've got a worse set of kinks and fetishes than- QUIT LAUGHING." 

That was how the weretiger ended up where he was. Standing in a store aisle, his boyfriend lurking somewhere behind him in the crowd of unaware civilians. Doing everything in his power to get the agency member to crack. 

Yet, Atsushi stubbornly bit back the moans that bubbled up in his throat and kept control of his breathing. He had done good so far in his try to ignore the vibrations sending his hormones into a tizzy, he wasn't going to crack now. Instead, he focused on getting his groceries and marched to the checkout. 

The entire way, his heightened senses tracked Akutagawa's iron-flavored stench and occasional coughs. So, the weretiger was uncomfortably aware of how the wheezy mafioso watched from a distance. Like a...well, a tiger stalking its prey. The irony of this is fucking palpable. Atsushi thought, his mouth and restrained member twitching when shifting his weight made the whirring toy within him move to press against a new sensitive spot. On the bright side though. The boy had at least been smart enough to ensure his raging boner wouldn't be super visible to the world while the cashier took her sweet time scanning his items. 

Part of Atsushi knew the transaction likely didn't even take five minutes. But, having to stand there and wait for his items to be rung up with a malicious goth slowed the toy down. Only to hike the speed back up to make him up made it feel like an eternity.

"That'll be 50 dollars, sir." The cashier chirped, I hope you step on a lego with a tack in it. The tiger nodded and gave her a sweet smile, not verbalizing his aggressive thoughts for fear of his voice shaking like a leaf or a moan slipping out. Though, he was able to keep his silence as he paid and gathered his bags to head home at long last.

On the way home, Akutagawa continued to keep his distance. Both knew his fate the second they got home.

[melis-writes]

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lNEbUqEbUG0

Hi! I was wondering what your opinion is of these deleted scenes? I’ve seen some people claim they prove that Michael truly loved Apollonia and never stopped loving her, but I’m not really sure what to think anymore 😅 (especially since I’ve come to realize that the people who claim this tend to glorify Michael and hate on Kay unfairly, plus your recent posts criticizing Michael and Apollonia’s relationship have been making sense to me). Curious to know your thoughts!

Ah yes. 😂 The only thing these scenes prove to me is who Michael Corleone really is. This isn't revenge for Apollonia, it's revenge for Michael. 💀 Michael would never let Fabrizio or anyone for that matter get away at an attempt on his life, let alone a daydream if he found out about it, ya know? It's the same thing with one of the reasons why Michael killed Fredo. Even if Michael loved his brother to death, letting Fredo live would be a sign of weakness and Michael's enemies would gain from this. At the end of the day, Michael's a mobster and they always get revenge and payback. There's no expiration date for that to them. 😅 This is really bare minimum for Michael lmao.

Truly if it was revenge for Apollonia why wasn't she mentioned? Why wasn't a photograph of her looked at? 🤔 Apollonia's death was sadly just collateral damage if you really think about it. Knowing Michael's a cold, cruel mafioso and wanted revenge on Fabrizio for years for trying to kill him (never mentioning "my wife died, I need revenge for her" in any way), I think it's just another reach and you'll see a lot of those because there is again no proof Michael ever "loved" Apollonia. 💀 There is however plenty of proof he was extremely attracted to her, aroused by her, lusted for her and wanted to "possess" her which is for sure, but Mario Puzo mentions Michael "loved" two things: he loved his father (Vito) and he loved Kay.

I also think Apollonia's character and the whole Sicily arc is important in the film/book and very interesting. I've nothing against it or her character, but I really am not going to say I ship a teenager and grown ass, bored/horny Michael Corleone who have nothing in common let alone any proof Apollonia was even attracted/in "love" with Michael. 👁👁

Michael was a rich, powerful man who came from a rich, powerful family that Apollonia's father especially mentioned... The topic is always about "Michael loved Apollonia" but never "Apollonia loved Michael". 🤨🤔 Because homegirl didn't lol, she loved the freedom and money. Not that I blame her at all but it's really apparent lmao.

Just as you mentioned, some who glorify Michael x Apollonia viciously hate on Kay for all the weirdest reasons and it's always so malicious. You can love Apollonia and what she and Michael had without... you know... saying some of the most vile shit about Kay who can't be compared to Apollonia at all, really. 😬

There is no other person in The Godfather other than Vito Corleone himself who wanted the best for Michael, genuinely loved and cared for him like Kay Adams did. That's why I highly recommend reading the book because their relationship is so beautiful, their love is raw and real and their trust and honesty is strong with one another. ❤ Not to mention they have their happy ending. If that existed with Michael and Apollonia (eh... the age gap needs to change too), I'd feel the same for that ship.

Just the way I view it, especially having read/analyzed the book and the film it's what I think! ❤ These are just my opinions.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

I adore that we have Crocodile doing the classic chair spin. Honestly, I personally get a kick out of imagining Croc as a trans guy like an older Gekijiro from Stop!! Hibari-Kun. He goes all in on doing the mafioso shtick right because he wants to be the coolest, manliest type of man. Much like a certain extremely ladylike samurai we all know and love. 

Miss Merrychristmas is actually pretty fun in this scene. I like the rapid-fire repetition and banging the table. Like...this is such a weird group. And for the most part they never really come off as that evil. They mostly hunt bounties under a privateer who himself is fairly shady, but there’s even the question up to this point of well, do some of them earnestly believe in this vision of “Utopia?” Even after Croc explains the plan, I feel like Baroque Works aren’t even quite as evil as say, Arlong. Definitely not as much as Enel or Doflamingo. Not as brazenly malicious as Rob Lucci. Not to say they’re good guys or anything, just that they meet that bar of being good to each other and might have motives/lack of information that open up the possibility they’re in this for believable reasons. 

[whompthatsucker1981]

This moral panic on ai art reminds me a lot of a bunch of historical moments where technology was automated and used to cut corners (eventually making people lose jobs) hence making people at that time thinking that technology is evil (ie. The industrial revolution and vocaloid). But we are in the present and we now know that these technologies are not evil and are only really harmful under a capitalist reality.

I do think that eventually people at large will accept ai and use it casually/it will not replace human-created art. But i still cant help but feel grossed out whenever i see an ai generated image since lots of times it is used with malicious intent. But it all goes back to that circle of what is and isnt plagiarism and if art isnt in itself a copy of a copy

Like that time this guy targeted a specific artist and used her illustrations to create ai generated images to sell. Although it was obviously an asshole move, could it be considered theft? Sure the images were similar, but they had their differences, and like you said, art has always been about getting inspired from an image and "copying" it.

I dont know how to feel about this situation anymore, it jsut leaves a gross feeling in my stomach

haven't been answering asks or replies on the subject lately because online discourse is exhausting + in retrospect my post that blew up felt incomplete, especially with hindsight of seing the general discourse shift towards ignoring the actual labor issues in ai, but i wanna answer this.

i would say it's a form of theft, but not as in "ai is inherently theft", but as in "targeting a specific artist and profiting off their work is stealing". like you see independent artists, illustrators, artisans having their work ripped off by either independent businesses and large companies, and that this can be theft endorsed by law as you see companies in the entertainment and art industry claim ownership of all an artist produces while in employment.

but regardless of whether it is or isn't theft, it is gross and unethical to spite someone by making their gallery into a dataset. this is something that was mentioned in the tags of a previous post i made (link to post here) that i felt productive to answer, but in short people end up doing this out of spite in a way they feel like it's "punching up" at the figure of the artist. and in the end it's just reenacting drama and pettiness that has been happening with artists for centuries now, this time with tools accessible by any layman, and a budding resentment towards what's seen as uniquely skilled talent.

anyway i do agree that it's gross. it's petty and spiteful, and it makes people more polarized and feeling like the absurd notion of "human made art becoming obsolete" is real, both to the people who fear it and those who want it. people should stop doing this and should focus on making pictures of mafioso puppies smoking cigars

[pinerwind]

Robbery bob man of steal mod apk

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK FOR FREE

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK SERIES

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK DOWNLOAD

There are 50 levels with various problem degrees. The controls are quite fluid for the most part, and also aren't invasive in the least, which is helpful due to the fact that you'll wish to see precisely where you are as well as where your possible captors remain in contrast. The ideal side of the celebrations aid you if you require to escape, require concealment, or have the capacity to activate among your "ninja" moves. Your controls hinge on the lower hemisphere of the screen, with a directional pad on the left-hand side and event controls on the right. When you start to play Robbery Bob, your main job in the game is to creep into people's residences as well as snag their prized possessions. Robbery Bob Gameplay Robbery Bob Gameplay You can choose from a wide range of questions such as "What's your favorite color?" Video Trailer

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK SERIES

Here you will find yourself in the hot seat where you are tasked to ask a certain person a certain question in order to ask him/her a series of questions that will help you progress to the next stage. If you have not yet had a chance to check this out, it is an excellent video game that will have you hooked on its smooth action as you rob the rich and the famous from all over the world.

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK FOR FREE

Therefore, it is 100% safe to install Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble Mod APK on our site.Robbery Bob is one of the most exciting and addictive games available for free on our website. Our anti-malware engine filter applications and classifies them according to our parameters. The antivirus platform includes: AOL Active Virus Shield, avast!, AVG, Clam AntiVirus, etc. Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble Mod is 100% safe because the application was scanned by our Anti-Malware platform and no viruses were detected. Is Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble Mod Safe? Malicious apps could cause excess data usage.Īllows the app to view information about network connections such as which networks exist and are connected.Īllows the app to view information about Wi-Fi networking, such as whether Wi-Fi is enabled and name of connected Wi-Fi devices. Using this service will incur data usage. Modify or delete the contents of your USB storage:Īllows the app to write to the USB storage.Īllows the app to prevent the device from going to sleep.Īllows the app to read the contents of your USB storage.Īllows apps to accept cloud to device messages sent by the app's service. The browser and other applications provide means to send data to the internet, so this permission is not required to send data to the internet. Then you can open and enjoy the Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble Mod APKĪllows the app to create network sockets and use custom network protocols. You must enable "Unknown sources" to install applications outside the Play Store.

ROBBERY BOB MAN OF STEAL MOD APK DOWNLOAD

Then, download Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble Mod APK on our site.Īfter completing the download, you must find the apk file and install it. Find the most ingenious ways to sneak around and avoid gettins spotted!Suited and looted – Play in style with a variety of outfits to customise your character in all kind of skinsDownload now and start your sneaking adventure! Robbery Bob 2 will become your new favourite game!įirst you must uninstall Robbery Bob 2: Double Trouble original version if you have installed it. Thievious' devious plans and find out if aliens really do exist?Over 100 new levels of lootin' fun! ­– What goodies will you loot as you sneak around the streets of Playa Mafioso, Shamville and Seagull Bay? Our new levels will challenge even the most experienced burglars, making for a great game experience.Hide and Seek – Sneak around on tip-toe, hug walls to stay out of sight, make noise to distract guards and, if you're caught red handed, get out of there quick!Old Bob, New Tricks – Use RC Cars, Teleportation Mines and tons of new gadgets to help Bob get out of a tight squeeze. Help Bob plan a wedding for a mobster's daughter, stop Dr. FEATURES There are many reasons why you should jump in this new adventure and start playing now:The man of steal is back! – and he's landed himself in all sorts of trouble. He's sneaky, he's goofy and he's back to play! Your favourite burglar Bob is up to his old tricks again in Robbery Bob 2 with new characters, new outfits, new comics and better challenges!Playing as Bob, you will sneak around security guards, past patrolling pensioners and evade complex traps as you try to get your sticky hands on as much loot as possible in this free to play adventure!Many new puzzles are waiting to challenge you in the second chapter of this stealth adventure through beautiful villas and houses.

[electracraft]

this might be a weird request (?) but mutuals can you tag mafia jokes please 

[didyme-bucciarati]

🅣ⓗⓔ 🅗ⓘⓔⓡⓞⓟⓗⓐⓝⓣ

Could this darling’s yandere fool them easily? Or be manipulated by them? 

You can take the man out of the hood but not the hood out of the man. I don't think you'll would be able to trick him easily. However. He is kinda a simp. So he would let you do whatever you wanted as long as he can stay in your life.

Expect malicious compliance. He'll do what you say to the T. You want to go outside? Well prepare to be chained up outside for the rest of the night. You want to hang out with your friends....

Tricking him wouldn't be easy. But if you were successful. The punishment would be harsh! After all he isn't afraid to use Hierophant Green on you.

He'll even admit that he isn't the brightest. So Fooling and Manipulating him is very easy. Just sound convincing and everything will fall into place.

You think your going to be able to manipulate this Mafioso? Don't kid yourself. Like that'll ever happen.

She wants to trust you. So she'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But once you've got caught doing it once you'll never get the chance again.

Your going to trick the trickster? Well two can play at that game.

"Next your going to say. Joseph this isn't what it looks like. I'm sorry!"

Yeah. He's a simp. Convincing him to do something isn't hard. It isn't easy either but promise sex or something and it'll happen.

[narrators-journal]

Moonlight

warning: Light depictions of violence, Aku really admires Atsushi’s tiger (idk if it comes off as super sexual, so idk might be a bit monster-fucker-y) Nothing sexual or vulgar, just him being super into watching Atsushi kill.

edit: Had to fix some glaring formatting issues, also just editted some of the choppier bits of the text :D

Akutagawa had no clue why he was out looking for a pissy tiger gijinka at 10 pm, but he was. He wasn't super thrilled about it, to say the least. However, Dazai had called and explained that Atsushi had apparently had an awful day at work or something and then changed into a weretiger in the evening, and the bandaged ADA agent wasn't sure if that was intentional or because of the full moon, so it was now up to Aku to go find the weretiger and bring him back to his apartment before he could cause any trouble.

Any good mafia member would've told the traitorous sociopath to go fuck himself with a cactus, but some weird urge had led the goth to agree to return Atsushi home for his old mentor. Had him receiving the crybaby's address from his mentor and heading out into the darkness.

It wasn't that he still wanted acknowledgment, he'd gotten his praise and acknowledgment a few weeks before. So while he still highly respected Dazai, he wasn't out clicking his tongue into alleyways and lifting himself onto rooftops at such a late hour for his praise. It definitely wasn't out of concern for Jinko, he could care less if the brainless house cat got hit by a car or stuck up a telephone pole. No, what had Akutagawa out near the hellish docks was a lingering sense of curiosity. He couldn't exactly place what he was curious about that exact moment, but he was intrigued. So, he poked around until he finally spotted a familiar flick of white and black disappearing around the corner in the slums.

When he spotted the first signs of Atsushi, Akutagawa dropped to a crouch and crept forward until he could look around the wall to see a dimly glowing white tiger nosing through a trash bag he seemed interested in. With him distracted, Aku took the chance to move towards him, bringing Rashoumon to life once he was close enough. Either the energy or the light near-instantly drew the predator's eye, but either way, he was now staring into the golden eyes of Atsushi Nakajima, or, more so, his tiger.

In that dangerous, uneasy situation, it finally clicked. He'd wanted to see this. Atsushi's full tiger form. That's why he'd agreed to go hunting for him upon Dazai's request. Not only that but staring into those predatory eyes brought a new sensation through his body. Awe.

        "Jinko," He said, doing his best to sound calm while he internally battled a storm of fear, awe, and honest wonder. "Can you understand me?" He asked it nonchalantly, his grey eyes just staying glued to the tiger's golden gaze as he circled to face the vampire of a man properly. With no answer, obviously, Aku took a deep breath to steel his nerves before trying to reason with the creature again, "Listen, I know we don't get along, you annoy the shit out of me, I'm sure you dislike me just as much. But, Dazai sent me to try and return you home, so can you please cooperate?" He asked, but the answer he got was a pretty huffy tail lash and the creature walking past him and across the street to dig through more trash. And for a moment, Akutagawa was nearly mesmerized, forgetting what he was going to say. The hunter's movements revealed the powerful muscles just beneath its snowy, striped fur, it knocked home just how dangerous this car-sized cat could be. He hasn't attacked me though, the mafioso realized, normally Jinko would maul me on sight, but his tiger isn't. Not even a growl. The realization almost made a sense of honor well up in his chest as he followed the giant cat to the next bag of garbage he seemed intent on investigating.

For a bit, the goth trailed after the large predator, his original task abandoned, mesmerized by the sight of it moving so quietly despite its lethal claws and hulking, muscular form. However, his observations were interrupted when a realization hit him like a brick to the face, Of course! He's hungry! No wonder he's been digging through stray garbage bags and whatnot, he's probably looking for meat! He slapped his hand over his face at how obvious that had been, then, he whistled to the massive feline, coughing a few times before he spoke again,           "Would you like to actually hunt, Jinko?" The snowy ears of the creature perked at the mention of hunting, perhaps he can understand me to some extent, the thought was swiftly shelved for later though, he had mentioned hunting, he had no time to ponder how conscious his nemesis was as a likely impatient and hungry tiger. "If you follow me, I can take you to someone you can hunt," he offered, once again looking into the yellow eyes of the beast, almost able to see him contemplating his offer before he suddenly moved forward.

Akutagawa's first thought was that the car-sized feline was going to eat him instead, but no. In reality, Atsushi simply headbutted him in the chest, sending him sliding on his back across the pavement, coughing and wheezing from the air leaving his weak lungs so suddenly.             "J-Jinko!" he snapped between coughs, glowing red in his annoyance, but instead of being even slightly intimidated or on-edge from the show of hostility, Atsushi just continued to headbutt or nose him, pushing him along the pavement until the choking mafioso finally managed to put his hand on the cat's striped, moon-silver forehead, Holy shit, you're so soft, and shove him back enough to let him get back to his feet. "What are you doing Jinko? Don't nuzzle up to me just because I offered you food, dumbass!" he snarled, keeping his pale hand on the cat's head as he glared at him.

The two stood there for a moment, Akutagawa's glow intensifying when Atsushi pushed against his hand and made him step back to avoid tumbling over again, all the while the choppy-haired vampire was trying to decipher what the weretiger might be doing this for. It's not likely that he wishes to eat me. If he did, he would've pounced as soon as I was on the ground...That also means he's not looking for a fight. Could it be his way of thanking me for offering to take him to hunt? Is he just trying to NUZZLE me?? His cheeks heated like stovetop burners at the thought of the elegant predator showing him, his most hated rival, affection of all things. He could handle the tiger trying to maul him, half expected it honestly, but he didn't know how to feel about Atsushi nuzzling up to him as a thank you or otherwise.

It was only when he gave another attempt at a nudge that Akutagawa got the message at long last.           "Oh! You're wanting me to take you there!" He rolled his dark gray eyes at that and pushed himself away from the weretiger, turning around with a huff and starting to lead the way. This also gave his pale cheeks the time to return to normal in the cool night air, though his heart couldn't seem to stay at a steady, calm pace. It kept jumping and thumping unpredictably with the excitement of maybe seeing Atsushi on a proper hunt.

It was sure to be a fascinating sight, to see the massive feline crouched, creeping up on an unsuspecting victim, to see his muscles bunch with so much power just before lunging at the prey. He was excited at the thought of seeing the weretiger's lethal talons tear into a person, and his jaws crunch down mercilessly on his victim's bones. The sheer power of it. The fact that he had fought someone who could tap into that primal potential. He'd looked into such an animal's eyes, he'd seen the human intelligence mingling seamlessly with the animalistic cunning. Atsushi's razor-sharp fangs had been mere inches from such a vital part of his body, and yet he'd done no malicious harm. No, not a scratch. Aku couldn't place the feeling of awe and nebulous adrenaline-pumping thrill he got from it. From being so close to a beast who could end him without hesitation or issue, and yet he hadn't. All of that strength was so beautifully control-

The goth's thoughts were interrupted by another headbutt, this time to his spine, sending him sprawling onto the pavement with an indignant squawk.           "Jinko! Wha- Are you trying to get me to speed up, or fucking kill me?!" He snapped, scrambling to his feet with a small cough and a tidal wave of humiliation for the noise he'd made on his way down, but his only response was another nudge from the beast, one he swatted away. "Oh no! I am not jogging or running ahead of you! Quit acting like an impatient toddler," he scolded, dusting himself off while the tiger huffed like said impatient toddler.

With his own grumpy huff, he continued, leading Atsushi out of the slums and into the nicer parts of town. It wasn't the rich end of Yokohama, where the homes were capped with long driveways and wrought-iron fences or had names for addresses, but it wasn't the slums. The neighborhood they ended up in, while sparse of people on the sidewalk and road, thrummed with life within the safety of the nightclubs and bars that were scattered about. It was somewhere near the outskirts of town without being too far, around there Akutagawa would find the mafia's casino and the one rival casino whose owner was as equally a customer of the mafia as much as a rival.           "Alright, you stay here for a moment. I've got to go find your food. Don't worry, they aren't good, innocent people, so you shouldn't feel a lick of shame for eating them." He promised Atsushi, now standing a few buildings down in a wide alleyway from the rival casino. "You eat the men in suits to your heart's content, in return, I'll destroy the street security cameras." The creature made a noise he assumed was agreement, so he left him in the alleyway and began prowling the street, taking out cameras as he went until he'd not only left the whole street defenseless but also found the owner of the second gambling hall.

Once he'd located the man and his goons relaxing at an outside table, smoking and drinking their booze in front of the closed shop, he used a ribbon of his coat to slither over and knick the owner with the sharpened cloth, slipping away before he realized it was more than a simple bug bite or accidental scratch. With the fresh blood now on his coat, he slunk back to Atsushi, letting the striped hunter sniff the strip of cloth thoroughly before he hoisted himself onto the roof with Rashoumon.

From his vantage point on the rooftops, the wheezy goth could follow the weretiger as he prowled down the street, following the scent of blood until he too spotted the prey at the cafe table and fell into a hunter's crouch. The goth repressed his coughing and wheezing as much as possible, paused with the cat, his grey eyes fixated on the silent animal as he inched closer to the men.

It amazed Aku that neither the owner nor his goons noticed the rabbit-soft white-and-black fur of the weretiger, part of him wanted them to spot the beast before he pounced, just so he could watch them run and panic and really see Atsushi chase down his prey. Sadly, by the time the small group had finally realized they were being stalked, it was too late. Atsushi was already on them, tearing them apart, his powerful jaws turning their muscles to pulled pork in seconds, his talons tearing into them like a hot knife through butter. They tried to run, but they didn't get far before each one was picked off with one swipe of the dark claws, or powerful jaws of the predator.

Akutagawa watched the scene from the safety of the rooftop, his heart racing with excitement, his breath quickening as he grinned like a lunatic. Not even his subsequent coughing fit could ruin the absolute thrill that zipped through his blood at the sight of such a gorgeous, efficient predator crunching on bones like they were nothing, his white fur now stained a lovely shade of red. It took a moment for him to come back from that high and realize that his lightheadedness and shortness of breath had gone from pure elation to an issue, so he had to swiftly fish his inhaler out of his pocket and pull from it, hoping it was enough to open his airways so he would avoid the hospital. He was not keen on having to explain to a doctor what exactly had gotten him so hyper.

Thankfully for the pale mafioso, his inhaler worked. So, after a moment to catch his breath and regain his composure, he brought Rashoumon to life and used it to lower himself down to the pavement again, a safe distance from Atsushi, who was contently tearing the mafia's rivals apart and devouring their flesh. With one final calming breath, he slowly walked over to the beast, not getting a glance as he approached until he was beside the car-sized feline while he chomped at a bone until it splintered.

Once he was sure Atsushi wasn't interested in him, Akutagawa crouched down and gently, tentatively put a hand against his side, feeling the soft, silky, striped fur and perfectly honed muscles just beneath his pale fingertips.          "I can see why Dazai chose you...over me..." he muttered quietly, his eyes glued to the tiger's mouth, admiring his fangs as they worked at the bones and meat of the casino owner, "You are far beyond my power level. So much more controlled, so much stronger, so much more capable than I'll ever be." It hurt to voice these shameful realizations, but for some reason, Aku felt like he wouldn't be judged by the beast, even if it did understand his words, it wouldn't shame him for his admitting to his faults.

So, he just sat beside the tiger, running his hand over the beast's side, shoulder, even along its back, from snout to as far as he could reach behind him. Just taking everything about him in. The car-sized feline didn't seem to care at all, unbothered by the admiring pets, or when Aku grabbed his back paw to flex his toes and unsheath his talons. Some part of the mafioso still reminded him, He could still eat you next, but it did nothing to dissuade the child-like curiosity that fuelled his exploration of every deadly part of the animal, from tracing his muscles, to bringing out his bloodied talons, all while Atsushi ate his fill of his prey until nothing remained save for their shredded clothing.

The pale man simply gathered those up and ran a hand through his chopped up hair,             "I guess I should take you back to your apartment now before dawn comes." he mused, judging that they had about an hour or two before the sun rose and Atsushi likely changed back to his more pathetic, weak form. Aku looked at the weretiger, watching as the beast licked his chops and shook himself off, then turned with a sigh to head to the address Dazai had given him. Atsushi followed without complaint, padding alongside the goth, much more content, it seemed.

Once Atsushi was safely back in his own home, and the clothing was burnt and disposed of, Aku went home to his personal apartment, flopping onto the bed with a half groan, half sigh. Now that he wasn't running on thrills and curiosity, he was exhausted. His only thought before passing out was Never telling anyone of this.

[danddymaro]

Mind Your own Business | Leone Abbacchio X Reader

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count :   1241

Abbacchio being Jealous, overprotective and chasing guys away, all while still being in denial.

- I love the whole trope where he just can’t admit that maybe he has a thing for her. It’s my cup of tea.

Mind Your Own Business

Leone felt a fire burn within him as he seared holes into her body, glaring at the woman the same way a mountain lion would a grazing fawn during its stalk, right before it pounced.

There wasn’t anyone in the world who got under his skin as successfully as she did, the thought of her tormenting him even while he stayed at a safe distance, steering clear from her.

‘She’s so damn annoying,’ He thought to himself, all while he continued to stare at her, his gaze heated.

Tensely biting his lip, he watched her bend over the round table, attempting to wipe down the surface as a pastime.

Occasionally, she helped out around the restaurant, doing small, minimal things to not just sit around, all of which the staff greatly appreciated and welcomed.

It was almost closing time, and only one customer remained.

Last (f/n) remembered his waiter had brought him the check, meaning that it was a perfect time to tidy up without the chance of slowing down business.

Determinedly, she wiped in firm circles, moving closer to the center, stretching her body to give each inch of the surface the proper attention, and all the while, the little skirt she wore rose.

Abbacchio shifted, growing even more annoyed by her, and what was much more, her idiotic carelessness.

" Damn puttana," He grumbled, his eyes straying aside, drifting off from the alluring sight of her thighs as they were flashed to him, the little frills of her skirt just barely covering her taunt cheeks as she had the nerve to sway her hips from left to right, mindlessly swaying to the little melody in her head.

- Sometimes he wondered if she did it purposely, if she so happened to be so sensual to get a rise out of him, because it was almost impossible to think otherwise.

He tried to keep his eyes off but, yet again, they gravitated towards her, a thick wad of spit traveling down his throat as he caught sight of a teasing, little peek of her panties.

And in all of his poor attempts to stray his gaze from her, he found himself attentive to something else besides her,

‘ - You can’t be serious,’ The long-haired male thought while he focused his sight on the other man as he, too, watched her closely.

'Him again,' Abbacchio thought to himself, abruptly standing with tightened fists, striding over to the man who'd made himself a regular, coincidentally during the time she'd started spending more time around the restaurant.

'He comes in almost every damn day, and he's always last to go.' He reminded himself, watching as the other male kept his eyes glued to (f/n), not even noticing Leone as he advanced towards him.

‘I know just what you’re thinking. I know damn well what’s running through your head,’ He brooded accusingly along the way.

He didn't think twice before slamming a hand down to the gawking man's table, the glass of half-empty wine spilling over as the rest of the plates clattered, " Show's over stronzo," The mafioso said icily, making the other male jump, also causing (f/n) to spring up in surprise at the sudden noise.

"W-what ...What are you talking about ?," The other man said while his face glowed angrily, embarrassed, and utterly ashamed, fidgeting even moreso as he saw (F/n) looking on.

Leering down, and coming closer to the man, Leone's lips stretched into a malicious grin, his face devoid of any good nature, " I said the show's over." He said lowly, "And I hope you enjoyed it because it's the last time I want to see you around here," He added, his grin dying down, waiting for any sign of hostility, wanting a reason to pummel the man.

He could see the sweat that traveled down his forehead as well as caught sight of the little tremor that ran through him during the threat because he'd been well aware of just who'd approached him.

It took him a second after the shock resided, but then it clicked, causing any of the lividness that threatened to overtake the other man to die down, already knowing the consequences that would come if he dared to mess with anyone of Passione.

The dark-haired male that was still sitting lightly bowed his head in what seemed to be shame, moreso humility as he spoke,

“I didn’t know she was your wo-”

“- She is.” Leone said firmly, cutting the other man off with the blatant lie.

Silence soon followed while Abbacchio went back to his own table, his eyes following the other male as he paid for his meal, leaving without a say or a turnaround.

And at that point, Abbacchio was certain it would be the last time he'd ever see the other man again.

Sitting down, the light-haired male released a low sigh, one that deflated him as he tried to calm down his racing heart, attempting to unknot the mess of his intestines as he dwelled over the entire exchange, and much more what had started it all.

He had already grown weary of that annoying little feeling that spiked and sent him into autopilot.

He hated how irrational he grew.

He despised how easy it was for her to play him, all while pretending to be innocent.

“It’s all her damn fault,” He muttered, knowing that it wasn’t the last guy he’d have to threaten, having already gone through three others in the past. "At this rate, this damn place is gonna shut down," He added while he palmed his face, slowly dragging it down its length with frustration before he let it fall to his side.

‘If she wasn't so damn...damn ... annoying!’ He thought while desperately trying to justify himself.

" - You alright abba?" (f/n) then asked with concern, slowly approaching, attentively watching as his tightened jaw moved, teeth grinding against either as she stepped closer to him, her (e/c) colored eyes showing concern while the rest of her face was in the same sweet, unsuspecting worry.

He clicked his teeth once before he maundered over the question,

‘Your damn skirt’s too damn short,’ he started off, ‘ You're showing your ass off,’ He went on, annoyed, ‘ Your panties leave so little to the imagination you skank,’ He thought while he closed his eyes tightly, and by doing so having the teasing mental image of the (color) little piece that graciously hugged the voluminous curves, the cut being so racy it nearly gave him the full sight of her rounded cheeks.

‘You making me fucking hard,’ He complained in dismay, ‘ I just want to bend you over that very table,’ Leone thought while his hands clutched his knees, his nails digging into them as he tried to calm himself.

‘Fuck... I want to tear those panties off of you...

Lift up that little skirt and…-’

“ - Mind your damn business,” he grumbled causing (f/n) to hang her head, a soft blow of air making her bangs fly up.

Why the hell did he always have to stay with her if he didn’t have the intention to talk with her, or even help for that matter?

“Oh well...” she grumbled in defeat.

'I just don't get him,' She thought helplessly because as much as he liked complaining about her, he sure liked to lounge around her, and it was confusing as hell when she tried to figure him out.

[arigatouiris]

the fool’s curse // akutagawa ryunosuke x reader

Author’s Note: I absolutely adore Akutagawa and think he deserves the world; and I can definitely see him as being soft with someone he has feelings for and whoop why not give his coughing a reason anyway lmao. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8k+

Pairing: Akutagawa Ryunosuke x Reader

Summary: ［Ａｋｕｔａｇａｗａ ｘ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ］: Akutagawa wasn't someone who hoped, he chased after what he believed he deserved, like a dog chasing after cars. Futility was part of existence, after all, and it was a fact he believed he had accepted. Every part of your existence was a bane to his, and he was cursed to have even met you. Love was nothing but a fool's curse, and Akutagawa hated being one. Especially when it was physically killing him in the form of lilac petals infused with blood. [Hanahaki AU]

Warnings: angst to fluff, soft aku, mentions of blood, swearing (because Aku ofc), softness, tooth-rotting fluff, some angst if you squint (Also Chuuya makes an appeareance bc I love that shrimp mafioso)

If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze, coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

    And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

    “Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

    Indeed, it had always been you. Ever since he had laid his eyes on you, ever since there had been that cursed deepening between the bond he shared with you, the moronic display of his own version of affection that on odd days caught him off guard—ever since he had coughed out blood infused with purple-magenta lilacs, he had known that it was you. He wasn’t familiar with the disease he carried, but he deemed it a fool’s curse to be caught with a feeling as hopeless as this. Yet, you were the one to once again aid him. You were the one who had told him what was happening and it had thus become inevitably clear to him as if it wasn’t clear already; Akutagawa “Rabid Dog” Ryuunosuke was hopelessly, carelessly, irrevocably, and painfully in love with you—a commoner, a medical student, a moron.

*

The first time Akutagawa saw you was when he was returning from a minor mission. It was something Higuchi herself could have easily handled, but there wasn’t a chance the dog was letting his subordinates handle an entire subgroup on their own. Intimidation was something Akutagawa did best, and it was the one thing he looked forward to when concerned with minor missions such as these. Not that anyone minded that he tagged along; however, once it was done, there was no more reason for him to waste any more time around the area. Returning to the car, he merely had to just stand near the vehicle for Higuchi to come running and start the engine, heading back to the headquarters.

    A sudden break harshly pulled him out of his reverie and that was when he saw you—on the other end, hands outstretched and a pleading look in your eye. It wasn’t that he was always quick to anger, he knew there was a reason why you were stopping traffic, and when he craned his neck to look at what you were shielding, the answer was clear. There was a man, frothing from his mouth, shaking uncontrollably on the ground and there you were, wearing a white coat, hair pulled behind you in a messy bun, eyes far too tired to be seen in such broad daylight, begging him to stop his car so that she can at least move the man.

    “What should I do, senpai?” Higuchi asked, her voice cold. “Should I ram into—“

    “No,” Akutagawa leaned back and watched, “This doesn't concern me.”

    “Looks like the man is having an epileptic attack.” The blonde woman said, blinking.

    It didn’t matter to him what was happening with the man, but when you pulled yourself over to the window by which Akutagawa sat, he was alerted. You knocked twice, albeit pleadingly at his window, before he turned to Higuchi who easily read the look he gave her incorrectly. Pulling out a gun, she threatened to shoot you before ordering you to back away, but you stood there, staring right into her eyes expressionlessly. Akutagawa blinked before wondering where else he had seen eyes as devoid of fear as yours before lowering his window.

    “What do you want?”

    “That man is dying,” You said, “You’re the Port Mafia, right?”

Higuchi hissed before shoving her gun forward, but you paid her no heed.

    “That’s right. Back away while you know what’s good for you, peasant.” Akutagawa said, looking away from you.

    “The Port Mafia loves the city, correct? I’m sure whoever your leader is would agree that saving one man is also in a way keeping the peace. Help me take him to a hospital, and you’ll never see this peasant again.”

    Just before Higuchi could try to intimidate you once more, Akutagawa stopped her. It was not the kindness of his heart that decided to go with your pleas. It was not anything to do with a positive emotion at all, it was simply the fact that the nearest hospital was 500 meters ahead, and a frail person like yourself couldn’t possibly move a dying man on your own. You immediately turned to the epileptic man and ignored the helpless, ignorant onlookers before putting one arm under his shaking one, and attempted to pull him forward; however, a long, dark cloth-like substance wrapped itself around the man before pulling him inside the car forcefully, earning a gasp out of you. You stared at Akutagawa before nodding and following him inside. You sat beside the dying man before offering him a piece of metal and placed it in between his mouth, to prevent him from biting his tongue off in shock. Akutagawa watched you from the rear-view mirror without a word, wondering if he was doing something idiotic or if he was actually carrying forward the legacy his organization aimed to keep.

    “Senpai,” Higuchi whispered, “Are you sure… this is fine?”

    He didn’t answer her but instead turned to you. He noticed that your white coat was no ordinary lab coat, you were a doctor. This explained why you looked so tired and why you wanted to help a random man on the road, but what it didn’t explain was how unfazed you were with Higuchi’s threats earlier; this was what alerted Akutagawa in the first place. The eyes you wore maliciously, the eyes devoid of emotion, especially for a young doctor—it wasn’t ordinary.

    “Is there a reason why you’re staring at me?” You asked, turning to him.

    “How dare you—“

  “Shut up, Higuchi,” He scolded before turning to you with a snarky smirk, “You’re a doctor. Surely, you should know you can’t help everyone you see. You saw the people around you, those are the people you’re trying to protect. Your efforts are futile if it’s thankless.”

    “So are yours,” You answered instantly, not meeting his gaze. “Just living is thankless, and yet we thrive. It’s both fascinating and utterly stupid.”

    The car stopped and you instantly ran out before calling in someone from the hospital to help you carry the man away. Akutagawa couldn’t forget what you had said; the words slipped out of you as if you memorized them, it was marvelous how effortlessly you had replied to his attempt at minor intimidation. It wasn’t enough for him to be allured by you but the moment Higuchi attempted to drive off, you rushed back and knocked on the window beside his face once more. This time the tired look in your eyes was more than evident, yet the chapped-lipped smile made him queasy. Akutagawa wasn’t always the receiver of such positive reactions from the general public, so this change was bizarre.

    “Even though it’s futile, or worthless, I like doing it. And you helped me. So, thank you… Uh…”

    “Akutagawa.”

    Your smile only widened before you tilted your head a bit, “Thank you, Akutagawa-san.”

    His eyes landed on your nameplate inches above your coat pocket and he memorized your name: (l/n) (y/n). He watched as you skirted around and walked into the hospital, not a word was said thereafter. He could feel Higuchi kickstart the car and drive them back to base, but as much as he’d have liked to stop thinking of you, it was, as you had said, futile.

*

The next time Akutagawa saw you was in a place he’d never expected to find you in. He stilled in his movements when he spotted you walk into the Port Mafia building, guided by two other armed men, before rushing forward to know what you were doing there. He noticed Koyo Ozaki, standing in front of the room you had just entered and he stopped before her, a questioning look in his eye. She blinked at him before wondering what he wanted, Akutagawa wasn’t the type to exchange pleasantries after all.

    “Are you looking for the other runt? He’s inside—“

    “Why was she here?”

    He should have understood that a pronoun with no prior mention to a name would barely hold any meaning to someone like Koyo. She continued to give him a blank stare before wondering if he was referring to you, the girl who had just walked in to talk to Mori. She could have wondered how the rabid dog knew someone like you, but it wasn’t her place to care. Shrugging, Koyo knew that whatever she said didn’t matter right then.

    “She’s the daughter of one of Mori-san’s old enemies. He’s trying to recruit her,” Koyo waved her hand callously in the air, “Either that or she’ll be terminated. It’s not really my problem so I don’t know. I’m here because there’s something I need to tell him after.”

    What he couldn’t understand was how you were linked to the Port Mafia. Your father was one of the enemies? Did that mean you were an enemy? Were you still linked to your father or had he been terminated beforehand? Not knowing these details, but merely remembering the way you had smiled at him angered him, and he felt a raging cough begin to itch at his throat. Koyo watched as Akutagawa coughed into his hand, feeling the familiar itch that only managed to grow till it burned his nostrils.

    “There’s a name for such a disease,” She said, eyes cloudy, “But, I can see you haven’t caught it yet.”

    The black-haired man narrowed his eyes at the cryptic words the woman said, before turning to find the door opening. You walked out, this time with no one but Nakahara Chuuya behind you. Your eyes widened when you spotted Akutagawa and a smile adorned your features. You approached him before nodding at him, as to acknowledge him. Chuuya blinked before scratching his chin.

    “You know each other?”

    “Yes—“

    “Barely,” Akutagawa said, in between coughs, “What’s she doing here?”

    “You should get that cough looked at, Akutagawa-san. I’d be happy to—“

  “Shut up,” He threatened before glaring at you, and then turning to Chuuya, “What’s going on?”

   Chuuya shrugged, “This girl’s some hot shot’s daughter, but since he’s dead, Boss decided not to worry about her. Besides, she’s harmless. No ability, just a med student.”

    “Nakahara-san, if you would please drop me back from where you rudely picked me up, I’d be grateful.”

    Chuuya groaned before shutting his eyes, “Uh, you know, Akutagawa, why don’t you drop her off? You two can catch up—“

    “I don’t know her.”

    “—and I don’t care. Thanks. See ya!”

    Koyo let out a sigh before wandering inside the room Mori-san is in. You turned to Akutagawa before letting out a sigh yourself, and bowing slightly. He watched you with annoyance plastered all over his face, wondering why in the world you were all of a sudden everywhere. Ever since meeting you, you’d been plaguing his mind like some sort of disease, it was angering. He clicked his tongue before leading you out of the building and finding Higuchi’s car. Higuchi had ensured that Akutagawa would have an additional pair of keys with him at all costs, which came in handy just then. Akutagawa hated the position he was in, completing menial tasks that were assigned to someone else first—Chuuya always pushed minor work on to him whenever he felt like it, and now, he was stuck with you—someone he felt agitated around, someone he believed, even breathing felt like carrying a boulder on his shoulders.

    “I’m very sorry about this,” You said, just a moment before stopping in front of the car, “If I had known Nakahara-san would simply push this on to you, I’d have refrained from asking him—“

    “You think I can’t do something so simple?” He snapped, glaring at you.

    “N-No, that’s… I know it’s a burden.”

    Akutagawa gave you a look, which was either a mix between confusion and fear—an unusual look for him to sport on his face, having never been used to feeling such intense positive emotions before. You were looking at him, afraid to be a burden? This was his job. There was no burden, there was no blessing. It was all worthless in the end.

    “You’re not important enough to be a burden,” He snarled, getting into the car, “Stop worrying over idiotic things.”

    “We all worry over idiotic things,” You said, smiling and getting into the car yourself, “I think it’s a part of who we are.”

    “Don’t group me along with the likes of you.”

    You stayed quiet for a second before nodding, “Yeah,” Akutagawa paused momentarily at your sudden acceptance, “You’re right.”

    What did you mean by that? What did you mean by your words? Why did they sound so heavily laced with an emotion that triggered the worst of responses from him? Suddenly, he felt the urge to either slam his hand against the steering wheel out of sheer anger or just stare at you, attempting to decipher any meaning from the words that had just slipped out of you. What a bane to his existence, when answers seemed more confusing than anything Dazai had put him through. Perhaps, you understood from his silence that he was curious about your origins, but now was not the time to unveil anything of the sort. You carried your own burdens, dark and menacing as they may be, but the only solace Akutagawa found in that second was when you turned to him with those very callous eyes and smiled instead.

    “Thank you, again.”

    This time, he did not fight back. This time, he glanced at you as if you were an enchanting representation of everything he had been missing in his life. With eyes like his, he had never imagined that a smile could even be possible—that anything positive could be linked to the way his mind worked. He had been broken beyond repair, or perhaps that was his assumption, but then again, with the way you were looking at him right then, Akutagawa felt an emotion he hadn’t felt in a desperately long time.

    He drove in silence but figured that it was the silence that made things weird for you; he could notice you trying to fill in the gaps with baseless talk, commenting on the weather, talking about patients from your med school, everything and anything that distracted him from your mysterious origins, yet, every time your words would reflect against the barrier of quiet he had put around himself, Akutagawa felt his mind land back on discovering about you. The drive to the hospital wasn’t long, but it felt like one the longest drives he had ever taken. He stopped there, before noticing you still in your seat. You were supposed to get up and leave yet there was this aching hunger in him that demanded you answer his unasked questions before going. You turned to him before blinking a few times, and before you can say anything at all, Akutagawa began to cough. It was something he carried wherever he went, and the confusion he felt around you only made it worse. This proved that you were merely a disease, an error in the making. There was nothing he would get from you apart from violent chest burns and a waste of time. You reached forward to touch him out of worry, but he grabbed your wrist so harshly you winced, pulling away out of instinct. As he coughed, he turned to you with a menacing glare—warning you to never attempt to do that again.

    “Akutagawa-san, I—“

    “Don’t,” He took a raspy breath, before coughing again, “Don’t touch me!”

    He gripped harder, knowing full well that the pressure was enough to hurt you. Yet, you sat there, worried eyes plastered toward his form. He hated it. He hated when you directed such a look toward him, he hated being scrutinized by your apparent kindness. Who were you to direct it toward him anyway? A nobody. A peasant. A moron.

    You pulled back quietly, but he wouldn’t let go. You stared at him before letting out a breath; it wasn’t sympathy that pushed you to do what you did next, it was the only human emotion you didn’t feel too ashamed displaying out in the open—care.

    “Akutagawa-san, normally when I study I go to this cafe in central Yokohama,” You pursed your lips, wondering if this information would even make a difference, “The silence there, the… the atmosphere of the place makes it too easy for me to relax and just read. And they have great tea, too!”

    “What useless information.”

    You smiled a bit before shaking your head and opening the door, “I hope I see you around, Akutagawa-san.”

    When you got out of the car, Akutagawa wasted no time in driving back. The fact remained: he stayed there any longer, he’d merely be wasting time. Yet, for some reason, your presence lingered in the seat that you were sitting in earlier, and when he thought of that he felt the sudden urge to cough yet again. However, this time, he felt a tad bit different than general. The cough that carried over began from his chest, phlegm that was never present before manifested out of nowhere and he thought for a second if he had been out in the cold for too long or if he had eaten something to have caused such a reaction, but the image of your bitter smile marred with those callous eyes of yours catered to create a tornado within his chest that left him a breathing, aching mess of disgruntled coughs that radiated a new weakness. It has to be a cold, he thought before continuing on driving back.

    Gin never asked her brother to accompany her when she took evening walks, but that evening since he was also quite free, the siblings decided to get some tea together. He always merely followed after her, since she knew the place better than he ever did; yet, Akutagawa did things differently that evening. He walked alongside his sister, mumbling something about a quiet cafe in central Yokohama, and Gin paused.

    “How do you know about that?” She asked, “It’s one of my favorite places to go to.”

    So, you weren’t lying. It must be a decent place if his sister approved of it, hence there was no reason to not go. It wasn’t as if he was going there to see you—the last thing he wanted was to see you and have you invoke that disgusting emotion in him again. The mere thought of you made him want to cough some more, but he was well hydrated that evening. He followed Gin toward the central streets, finding a lone cafe toward the end of the street; he walked inside, but when his chest ached, he realized you weren’t there.

    “The tea here is really good.” Gin said before going over to sit at a table.

    He took a few seconds before seating himself across from her, feeling the urge to cough once more. Pulling out his hand, which was nestled in his pocket, Akutagawa coughed violently into his fist, alerting his sister. As he coughed, he could feel phlegm build up in his fist but the second his eyes landed on what he had coughed out, Akutagawa froze. Mixed with his own blood sat a tiny petal, a purplish-red hue on it and he couldn’t tell if it was the blood that gave it that color or not. When he breathed in, he felt as if something were lodged in his chest and the more he coughed, the more he coughed out the petals as if there was a live plant growing inside him. Excusing himself, Akutagawa headed inside the cafe’s bathroom before finally allowing himself to cough freely. Four more petals shoved themselves out of his throat before his eyes leaked tears that burned his skin. What was this new sickness? Was this an ability?

    His eyes widened. He had understood. It was you. Ever since he had seen you, he had been infused with a different cough. This was your doing. You were trying to take out the strongest rabid dog in the mafia for your own intentions; perhaps, it was because your father was Mori-san’s enemy, perhaps you wanted revenge for something that happened in the past. Perhaps, your smile meant nothing, after all—it was all a farce so you could take him out, and Akutagawa had been the fool and fallen for your trick. He washed his hands thoroughly before knowing full well that the next time he’d see you would be him barging through your apartment door, demanding answers for what you had done to him. Whether he’d kill you or not wasn’t too clear yet, but he was sure of one thing.

    He felt like he would die if he didn’t see you. Thinking of the petals that he had coughed out, Akutagawa was more than sure that death was imminent.

*

Your hands were shaking and you could barely breathe; the anxiety rappelled from inside your mind and held a vine-like grip all over your body. You knew it was futile to try and breathe or get any studying done with the way you were being, but you had to try. Tears leaked out of your eyes and it felt as if waves were crashing inside your head and every inch of you was drowning and you did very little to try and hold on to the limited reality that was visible to you. You breathed in heavily before another sob cracked through your throat, sinking your entire body to the ground. Your books lay scattered everywhere and you tried to swallow some saliva to soothe your aching throat, but your body wasn’t listening to you and neither was your mind.

    So, at that moment, when the door barged open and black cloth-like arms wrapped around you, pulling you to the air, you let it take you. You shut your eyes before the sobs only multiplied, now you were both scared for your life and desperate, but no part of you would run. You were held in place until a familiar voice pulled you out of the reverie you were in, bringing you back to where you had been before the breakdown happened.

    “What’s wrong with you?” Akutagawa asked, narrowing his eyes.

    He hadn’t expected to find you in such a pitiful state. Surely, if you were a mastermind of deception, you’d be a little more prepared. You didn’t look like you were anywhere close to prepared, you didn’t even look like you were willing to fight. When you opened your eyes, he saw it again—the hollow, empty shells that they were despite the sobs that broke through your lips. Had he scared you? No, you had been in that pitiful state even before he got there. He felt his chest burn once again and that made him think of your ability—the one you had apparently used on him.

    “Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was raspy, and it was then he realized it might have been holding on to you far too tightly to deem comfortable. “…please…”

    He didn’t know what you were asking for but he let you down and waited. Were you going to give him the answers he needed? Was everyone going to be made clear? What was it that you did? What was your master plan?

    “I’m… I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” You said, letting out a bitter chuckle, “And… my door… You broke it.”

    He turned to look at the door and he had indeed broken it down, but that wasn’t the problem. He looked back at you before noticing that you were standing up now, walking toward your kitchen. He couldn’t understand why he let silence envelop both of you right then, but no part of him was complaining. Strangely, being around you had calmed his chest and there was no cough that radiated from within. He followed after you before watching you carefully, noticing you wipe the remaining tears that had stained your cheeks.

    “I… I get anxiety attacks around my exams. I feel like I’m never good enough. No matter how hard I work, how much effort I put it… It’s all…” You bit your lip to stop it from shaking, “…I’m not going to stop, though. I won’t stop. I want to be a doctor. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m going to do this. I have to.”

    “Why does your father know the boss?”

    You stilled for just a moment before continuing with making tea. You pulled out two cups, one for him and one for you, and despite not knowing him enough, the silence that he so well carried with himself was strong and special. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, an eerie thing to feel so loudly, and during every third breath, Akutagawa felt breathless.

    “My father was an assassin,” You said, “Gave up that line of work and became a drug kingpin here. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been told I was useless if I didn’t do as he told me to. I did everything. I… everything.”

    Akutagawa’s eyes widened. He watched you as you effortlessly made tea and poured it into his cup. A small dash of honey, and chamomile tea bags, and a kitchen where the aroma was enough to intoxicate a blind person. He had never imagined drinking a tea like this and yet, no part of him complained.

    “You killed people.”

    You looked barely 20 years old. So that could only mean you were a child assassin. After all, it was an easier profession for children.

    “No one expects a child to kill, especially if she’s smiling.” You smiled sweetly, yet the callous expression in your eyes never faded.

    You turned to him a second later before Akutagawa coughed into his hands, multiple petals falling into his fist and then to the floor. You froze as you realized what this was, your hands flying to his now bloody wrist. He caught the bruise he had given you the other day and made no attempt to stop you. You opened his palm and found more lilac petals, covered in phlegm and blood and you stared. Akutagawa didn’t understand what your look meant but waited nonetheless. When you looked up to meet his gaze, he could swear that the callousness in your eyes was slowly fading.

    “Akutagawa-san…” Your voice was a whisper, “This is the hanahaki disease.”

    “What is it?” His voice was coarse, again from the intense coughing.

    “It’s… It’s a sign you’re in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same for you.”

    “Love?” His eyes widened as he repeated the preposterous word, “L-Love, you say?”

    He pulled his hand away from you, letting the bloody petals fall to the floor. You looked at him pleadingly before he coughed some more, slapping the tea from the counter and spilling it everywhere.

    “What a useless emotion!” He screamed, “Love!? That’s what’s gotten me weaker?!”

    “Does it anger you that you can love?”

    He clicked his tongue before pushing you away, wondering what in the world he was even doing there in the first place. He had gotten to know who you were, he had gotten to know what your deal was and yet—every part of him wanted more. It was quiet desperation that he couldn’t quite understand or grasp to his fullest capabilities, and this inadequacy left him aching on the inside. You stared at him before pursing your lips, what more could you tell someone who refused to believe that no one could be broken enough to not love?

    “Your anger and emotional outbursts usually result when someone penetrates to the core of what you don’t like about yourself or still cannot accept.”

    “Get rid of it,” Akutagawa threatened, “Get rid of this… this thing!”

    You wondered if he knew what he was talking about. Did he even know where these emotions came from? Did he even know why he was feeling this way? Had he ever acknowledge that he could feel love for another person? You slowly got up from where you were pushed to and let out a shaky breath.

    “Akutagawa-san…” You began, “There is a way to remove it.”

    “Good. What is it?”

    “The person has to love you back.”

    “How useless—“

    You threw yourself at the man before noticing him turn fiercely rigid. While it was miraculous that he didn’t outright push you away, it was also a tad bit disappointing that he stood as if was waiting for it to be done. The first time you saw Akutagawa’s face, you had seen that he was someone who was constantly running. Either from his past, from his pain, or toward a goal he would never reach, Akutagawa’s journey revolved around his own imperfection. It was a desire that dug so deeply into you that it gave you every right to see yourself in them. After all, you had broken off such ties after your father’s demise. Yet, no part of you, physical or otherwise, had forgotten what killing had done to you. It had robbed you from a chance to live a regular life, and here was another person, going through the very same thing.

    However, to see that he had developed a disease that proved limerence in such a deep context could only mean that there was still hope left for you as well. After all, it was the deeply broken that knew how to love best. For they knew what was constantly at stake, and they know the pain of devastating loss. Pulling back, you made a vow to yourself. If you eventually did become a doctor, if you eventually did end up saving more lives than you had ended in the past, it must and should begin with Akutagawa. Because only then could you truly save yourself.

    “I’ll help you,” You said, earnestly, “I’ll make it happen.”

    Kindness, as worthless as he believed it was, did not assist in making someone stronger. It never worked with him, it never persuaded him as much as hate and pain did, yet, there was something to intoxicating about kindness that made him crave for more. As he looked into your eyes, Akutagawa saw a radiance he had only dreamt of seeing before; a radiance he had grown to believe did not exist in the world, a radiance he had attempted to protect in the past. Inching closer, Akutagawa felt the constricting in his chest increase as he closed the distance between you and him, yet, he paused. He couldn’t move a step further. You smiled a second later before holding his hands, bloody and messy, it didn’t look like you cared.

    “So, who is this person?”

*

The next time Akutagawa saw you, he wasn’t expecting to see you. A careless slip in a battle deemed him worthy of a strong injury; he was distracted by the lilacs he had been coughing out and didn’t see an incoming blow, which scraped him at his left hip—missing the bone. While he knew he could allow Higuchi to help him, every part of him ached for you. Pushing aside Higuchi, he got into the streets walking toward your apartment. He remembered the way as if it were the back of his hand, and it led him to you, painstakingly. He wanted to move faster, he wanted to see your face despite knowing that the injury wouldn’t necessarily kill him. After all, you had said you’d help him.

   The person has to love you back, you had said; and how ironic that was. Akutagawa went chasing after people who would constantly deem him inadequate; he would never be enough, and that was what this disease was telling him. It was practically ending his life because he would never be enough—and what more proof would he need? Every inch of his body craved for another and yet, the other person knew nothing of his growing limerence. It was killing him and yet, there was nothing that could save him except his own demise. What an ironic way to die, he thought, as he reached your door. You had fixed it the day after he had broken it down, and ever since, he believed that reaching you would require him to use a softer approach. Soft like your skin—the very same skin he had bruised the first time he had touched it.

    You opened the door and your eyes instantly widened; Akutagawa took one step further, but your arms wrapped around him before pulling him to your chest, his chin landing on your shoulder, your hands wrapped around his back. You could feel his heavy heartbeat before dragging him to your bed. Just as you were about to remove his jacket, he stopped you—not allowing you to touch it.

    “I…” His raspy voice scared you, “I… don’t want to hurt you.”

    “How would you—“

    He didn’t let you finish and simply removed the jacket himself, before laying on the bed; you carefully placed the jacket around the chair and got to work on Akutagawa. You carefully removed the shirt that was stained with his blood before bringing in all the required materials needed to clean his wound first. You didn’t hear a wince from him the entire time, knowing full well that it would sting him beyond belief. It was as if he was used to the pain, and wasn’t moving because somehow this pain had been familiarised. You felt your heart go out for him, but your hands continued working on his wounds. You sat beside him to his left, where the wound was, and continued dressing the large gash, before momentarily feeling his right arm grasp your wrist. You looked up to find Akutagawa staring into your eyes, some sort of pleading look embedded in them.

    “Does it hurt?”

    He shook his head before freeing you, and it was then you realized how soft his touch actually was. Unlike the last time when he had bruised your wrist, Akutagawa’s touch was almost feather like; they say soft feathers cannot make a cruel bird kind, but Akutagawa had led his entire life believing he was nothing but cruel and it took him one touch, just one touch at your wrist to learn that he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was the wound that was making him think this way or if he was finally seeing things clearly, but the view he had by sitting right beside you, gazing into your form as you cleaned his wound, was the only thing he believed he’d want to see for the rest of his life. Dazai’s approval meant squat if it meant being able to sit beside you in absolute silence; if life allowed him to meet you, learn of your existence and perfection, then there was some redeeming quality in him that gave him the right to be sitting by you.

    “Doesn’t hurt.” He said, truthfully, before feeling the urge to want to touch you more. He wanted to be touched by you, and hopefully, he wouldn’t push you away as he had before. He wanted nothing more than to be gentle, feel your hair between the pads of his fingers, watch you as you studied, wrap you in his arms gently if he ever saw you crying again—Akutagawa wanted to wholeheartedly detach his anger whenever you were around and it was your existence that gave him the confidence that it was possible.

    “I…” You said, “I don’t know your full name.”

    “Akutagawa Ryunosuke.”

    You gulped before pursing your lips.

    “Is it okay if I call you Ryuu?” He blinked at you, “L-Like when we’re alone! I mean… I’m not saying I don’t like your name, I… just… well, you can call me (y/n), if you’d like! I just… I think… I like—“

    “Do as you wish.”

    You smiled a bit before taking the bandages in your hands. With the sound of your heart pounding the way it was, Akutagawa didn’t realize that it had been roughly 2 hours since he had last coughed out flowers. Perhaps, the pace with which it slowed meant something. Perhaps, it didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to tell for a while at least.

*

On odd days, Akutagawa found that his cough was getting better; a sign that presented him with an emotion he once believed was dead in him—hope. He remembered your words loud and clear that this disease called for the person he was in love with return his emotions for him to stop dying. However, the cough didn’t entirely stop. During nights when he missed your presence greatly, Akutagawa’s coughs were enhanced—lilacs poured out of his chest like a clogged waterfall let free, and his eyes stung with the intensity with which he remained a trembling mess of a person he thought he was. Despite learning to accept his emotions for you, on nights like these, Akutagawa was reminded of how weak he truly was, of Dazai’s harsh words for him that were imprinted in his very soul, of how inadequate he felt to even earn a disease such as this. When his hands shook, he felt the fear of dying—not of losing his life, but of never being able to see you again. And thoughts like this left him skirmish, it left him aching for his past-self, where he had never met you, where he wouldn’t have had to face such a metamorphosis that ridiculed him in such a manner.

    Akutagawa was not used to hoping for love, he was only, in every right, a giver. He chased after everything he thought he deserved, yet never realized that chasing it was never the right way for him to attain it. On nights like these, where he begged for a power that would rid him of his emotions for you, he’d wake up regretting those very words for the prospect of being able to see you, protect you, stay by your side and earn your precious silence. Some part of him always yearned for something that enveloped him not in a sense of passion but a calm care. Akutagawa needed someone he could rely on to not always expect him to perform or achieve some standard. Someone who saw how quiet he was and respected it. Not that no one ever had, Gin had always admired his tenacity and intrinsically quiet nature. It was the expectation that his life now put on him that broke him, more than just a little.

    The next day poured onto him excruciating pain. His chest and throat burned, and he could barely open his eyes. His sister who was living with him knew that his coughing had reached a dangerous point, yet she knew that meddling with his affairs would infuriate him more. Yet, the worry seeped out of her and she forced herself to barge into his quarters and at least ask him what she could do. It wasn’t like him to take a day off from work, but in his current state, even standing up could be a challenge.

    “Nii-san,” She voiced, “Is there something I can do? Someone I can bring who can take a look at—“

    “No. Get out.”

    Gin pursed her lips before walking away quietly, recalling with everything she had if there was someone she had seen her brother speak to who could help. She contemplated calling Chuuya, or anyone else from the Black Lizard, but involving the Mafia would only anger her brother in more ways than one. Taking in a deep breath, she found herself walking toward her favorite cafe, wanting to bring back some tea for her brother—the tea she knew he enjoyed. Calming chamomile tea always soothed him, rid his anxieties, which might even assist in his coughs. While she had no idea the origin behind those coughs, she knew they were different from the regular tickle in his throat.

    On reaching the cafe, she felt a mild tap on her shoulder, which she knew must have alerted her beyond belief, but the person whose eyes she landed on caused Gin to blink with confusion. She had seen you before, but she couldn’t understand where. You looked at her with an awkward expression, a quiet sort of worry seeping out of your bones.

    “I… I know you’re acquainted with Akutagawa-san? I was… Well, I wanted to know how he’s doing?”

    Gin’s eyes widened. Were you a friend of her brother’s? Not that she wasn’t surprised with her brother having a friend in the first place, especially that friend being a regular girl like you. She contemplated letting you know that her brother’s condition was deteriorating at a quicker pace than she had ever thought, but wondered if it was the right thing to do. What would Ryuunosuke want her to do? What would she do? Pausing for just a moment, Gin realized she was thinking too hard. She’d now do what any sister would.

    “He’s not doing so well,” She spoke honestly, “If… If you can come take a look, I think he’d appreciate it.”

    When your eyes widened with horror, Gin knew she may have done the right thing. You bit your lip and nodded, before following her out of the cafe; she led you to their shared apartment before also slipping in that she was his sister and not anyone you’d have to think too hard over. You blushed when Gin made it clear but refused to speak about it. Once inside, Gin nodded before leaving to work, knowing full well that her presence was no longer required. You jumped when you heard violent coughing coming in from a room with a closed door, and you slowly approached it, your heart pounding rapidly; however, just when you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, blinding you and depriving you of focusing on any other senses, your hands stilled before they could reach the doorknob. Sudden silence enveloped the room, and it slowly made sense to you on what was going on. With the way he was avoiding you these few days, with the way how he suddenly turned soft toward you, with the way Akutagawa helped you—your mind spat at you for never seeing it before. Tears filled your eyes before you realized that his disease was your fault, in almost every possible way, and instead of blaming you, he was taking it on himself.

    “Ryuu?”

    Akutagawa froze on the bed where he lay before staring at the ceiling. With the rapidity of his growing coughs, he was almost sure that you would never return his affections; he didn’t even want affection, in the first place. What Akutagawa wanted and needed never intersected, they were parallels that would never meet, yet somehow you were now standing opposite his door, calling him by a name no one would dare call him by.

    And the strangest thing of all, he let you.

    “What are you doing here?” Violent coughs only made his voice sound weaker than he felt, and he hated every second of it.

    “Can I come inside?”

    “How did you get here?” He sounded angry now, almost raging.

    “Please,” His heart ached when you pleaded. He’d give you anything in a heartbeat, but he couldn’t understand why this was so hard, “I want to see you.”

    His eyes widened. You wanted to see him? While it didn’t make sense, no reply from him gave you the assurance you needed to enter the room he was in, and the second his eyes fell on your form, Akutagawa felt breathless. He couldn't take his gaze from you. Your wide, wondering eyes were like soft midnight, star-glittered with forgotten tears. The curves of your body looked firm and sweet, nothing but inviting, sensual softness. If you were his... he might finally have the sense of ease other men had. No more spending every minute of the day striving and hungering and never feeling sated. But, was that even possible?

    “The hanahaki disease,” You began, standing a few feet away from him, “It’s when you love a person who doesn’t feel the same,” He could hear your voice tremble, and he felt like scum for letting it get here, “I’m not sure entirely but…”

    If Akutagawa could place together pieces of why he was aggravated by your very presence, it wouldn’t have led him to where he currently was. Avoiding your gaze coughs multiplied by numerous ramifications, hands shaking, forehead breaking out into a sweat—he had never felt more obscenely weak than sitting before you on his bed, having your keen gaze observe his frail body. Numbness coursed through his veins and never before had he wished to disappear more than right then; it was suffocating to sit in front of you while you wordlessly judged him, deemed him moronic in that pretty little head of yours. He stilled momentarily before slapping himself internally; you were no such person. You wouldn’t judge another. The entire reason for his predicament right then was simply because of how perfect you were.

    And no perfect human being would dare judge another. Especially not someone as broken as he.

    “Is it…” You sounded so defeated, he’d have done anything to hear your giggles and laughter once again, but life wasn’t as giving to him. It had never been. “Is that person… me?”

    A fool’s curse, he had deemed it—love was nothing but just that. He was a dark, damaged individual with a past that deemed him unworthy of your gaze, of your silence, of your soft fingers grazing his hair in dreams that felt forbidden to even wake from; Akutagawa wondered why it was that he even fell for you, in such a short duration of time, with limited interaction, with wordless conversations. And yet, the answer hit him. He didn’t need much from you, only a smile. A smile from your callous eyes, eyes that were like how his once were; and when he was someone who couldn’t smile the way you did, you had won over life in a way he never had. This sight—this very sight of your victory over a life that had deemed you unworthy, captured his heart. In you, Akutagawa saw every single desire that he had locked away, that he had deemed irrational and asinine. And you wore the irrational and asinine parts with pride.

    When he didn’t answer, the answer came to you. Tears leaked down your eyes as you reached forward and combed his hair, feeling him tense under your touch. Akutagawa wasn’t touch-starved, he didn’t starve for something he had no idea about. Yet, when your fingers skimmed through his hair, the need to breathe followed quickly after. He shut his eyes and leaned into your touch almost instinctively, before feeling you wrap your other hand around his neck and pull his head to your chest. You stood beside him as he sat on his bed, his head resting on the valley of your breasts. Your hold tightened and Akutagawa felt like he could die right then and there would be no regrets.

    “Ryuu…” You cooed, rubbing your hands in his hair. You smelt divine, almost intoxicating and he wondered if opening his eyes would have you disappear. You pressed your chin to the top of his head and he felt so ridiculous, he wondered if he should push you away or pull you closer. You answered his question by bringing yourself closer anyway, pressing your nose to his hair.

    “I’m so sorry,” You said, tears leaking out of your eyes. “I love you! I do! I love you so much!”

    Akutagawa’s eyes widened, before he turned, only to be pressed into your chest more. He calmly lifted one of his hands, touched your arm and pushed you away slightly, and noticed your drenched face. He looked at you like you were a fool, before shaking his head.

    “You said I’ll stop coughing once the person I—“

    “Yeah—“

    “I haven’t stopped coughing.” He said, eyeing you like you were a liar.

    You shook your head before throwing your hands softly against either of his cheeks; you could see them turning red, but you didn’t mind.

    “That was because you truly believed I couldn’t return your feelings, Ryuu. How will your disease know I love you if you don’t believe it first?”

    Was it truly that simple? It marveled him at how much of a moron you were, feeling love for a murderer like himself, but you were crying for him—you were miraculously here in his apartment, holding him like your life was dependent on it. He was no fool, and he never really pushed aside what his eyes were seeing, so while he was slowly becoming aware that you returned his feelings, he wanted to scold you for the dumbest choice you had ever made. Yet, instead of doing any of that, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke did something else that took your breath away.

    Reaching forward, he grazed the pads of his fingers across your cheek, wiping a stray tear that threatened to fall lower, and he tried smiling. Callous eyes and a hopeful smile—the only thing that got him to fall for you, Akutagawa now tried his best to return it, knowing full well he owed you at least that much. Your eyes widened at the sight he presented you with before you placed a shaky hand on his that was on your cheek. Leaning into his touch, you wondered if two broken people could ever love, yet, with the way he was smiling right then, you would be damned if you came close to calling him broken.

    Leaning forward, boldly, you placed a kiss on his head, causing his eyes to turn to saucers with the unfamiliar action. You felt him tense up once again, and you held him close despite that, knowing full well that whatever was foreign to him wasn’t essentially bad, all you had to do was familiarise Akutagawa to love and he would learn to accept it better. Looking up, he pulled you down from the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours—you could feel how dry they were, yet, that didn’t stop you from kissing him back. You could feel his hands tremble with the way he was holding you, not used to pressing softly, yet hard at the same time. When Akutagawa pulled apart from you a few moments later, it felt as if he was breathing for the first time. You allowed yourself to sit beside him now, enveloping the silence around you as if it were a comforting blanket. He looked at you so gently, slipping his arm around you and stroking your hair with a movement so soft you wondered if he realized he was doing it. He was capable of such softness that it presented as a strength instead of what he truly believed it was.

*

Nakahara Chuuya often finds himself in strange wine stores, looking for the wine he knew he could spend money on, wine more expensive than the one he had bought previously, keeping up with a mental game with himself. Walking out of the store, he spotted you—someone he believed he’d never see again, wearing a sundress and hair done up in a complicated plait that had you looking cute if he were being honest. He shook his head before focusing on getting home and drinking to some food, but just as he turned away, he turned back to you with wide eyes, almost dropping the wine he had bought, but he was glad he had his ability to prevent that from happening.

    What the f*ck? Chuuya thought when he saw Akutagawa slip his hand in yours, in a movement so casual that it seemed almost out of character for a rapid dog to act like a Labrador in love. You smiled at Akutagawa who returned half of it before Chuuya wounded if he was looking at Akutagawa at all in the first place. A moment later, he noticed the man slip his arm around your waist before leading you away from the area, in such a nonchalant yet casual manner that it left bewildered Chuuya to just stand there with his mouth ajar and heart raging. How the f*ck does that runt have a lover? Chuuya’s thoughts weren’t jealous, or even close, but it was a pure shock that left him jaw-dropped.

Well, whatever, he thought, before heading home, reminded thanks to Akutagawa and his new girlfriend that Chuuya was to drink alone that night. Again.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Why is Pablo Hasel justifying and praising terrosist groups??

I’m not sure if you’re asking why Pablo Hasél is accused of praising terrorist groups or why he said what he said. So I’ll answer both things lol.

He got sentenced to jail because of different verses from his rap songs and some tweets. To be precise, the judges have considered that he published 64 tweets that were either against the Spanish monarchy (yes, “offense against the Crown” is a crime in Spain) or praising the armed organisations GRAPO and ETA. These are the tweets that caused more scandal:

“Los parásitos de los Borbones siguen de trapis con los decapitadores de los homosexuales”: “the Bourbon parasites are still doing business with the ones who decapitate homosexuals”

This is a reference to the fact that the Bourbon family (the dynasty of the Spanish monarchy) are, in fact, doing business and being friends with the monarchy of Saudi Arabia, where human rights are not respected at all.

It is a fact that Saudi Arabia condemns homosexuality as a crime: gay people caught for the first time are flogged or jailed and if the “offense” is repeated they are sentenced to death penalty (source). It’s also a fact that King Juan Carlos I has had a long friendship and business relation with the Al Saud dynasty. In 1979, the Saudi monarchy gave Juan Carlos I a yacht as a gift (which he accepted and used for his holidays for years), when the king Fahd of Saudi Arabia died in 2005 the president of Spain José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero (from the PSOE party) declared a national day of mourning for the Saudi king as was suggested to him by the Spanish monarchy, in 2008 king Juan Carlos I received 100 million euros from Saudi Arabia, in 2007 Juan Carlos gave Abdullah bin Abdulaziz Al Saud (brother of the current king of Saudi Arabia) the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece (the highest chivalry honour that the King of Spain can give), in 2011 Juan Carlos intervened to the king of Saudi Arabia to get the contract of the high velocity train to Mecca (which is valued in 7,000 million dollars) assigned to a Spanish business, in 2019 the Panama papers revealed an offshore foundation that the Saudi monarchy had used to give the Spanish monarchy 100 million euros... Just a few examples that prove this relation. (Source). And now Juan Carlos I is living in the United Arab Emirates, another country with harsh punishments for homosexuality (among other human rights violations).

So Pablo Hasél was just stating the facts in that sentence.

“El mafioso de mierda del Rey dando lecciones desde un palacio”: “the fucking mafioso King giving lessons from a palace”

Given the many cases of corruption that the king has been involved in, as well as his intervention in the economy (such as profiting from big businesses that had profited from Franco’s dictatorship) and pressure in politics, it’s not so crazy to call him (and his family clan) a mafioso. In fact, the French TV news literally called Juan Carlos I a “gangster” once.

As for the “giving lessons from a palace”, that’s what he does in his Christmas speech or any other time he addresses the citizens, as if we all had it so easy as living and owning multiple palaces with hundreds of maids and not having to work while getting all kinds of luxuries payed for with public money. Not just Juan Carlos, Felipe VI is the same (remember when he went to Cuba to give them lessons on democracy, but then pretended everything was perfect in the visit to Saudi Arabia?).

Once again, Pablo Hasél was not being far from the truth.

“Guardia Civil torturando o disparando a emigrantes”: “the Civil Guard [Spanish military police force] torturing or shooting migrants”

The Civil Guard literally shoots rubber bullets at migrants who are trying to get on Spanish soil in Ceuta (source). By shooting them rubber bullets, the migrant people fall back on the water, and many drown. The Civil Guard murders and tortures migrants. And everything that takes place inside CIEs (migrant detention centers) can also be called torture with no doubt.

Again, these are facts.

Those were posts on social media, he has also been sentenced because of the lyrics of his songs. Here are some sentences from his song “Juan Carlos el Bobón” (the title is a pun with the words "Borbón”-Bourbon- and “bobo”-stupid-).

“Me cago en la marca España explotadora y casposa”: “the exploiter and braggart brand Spain can go fuck itself”

That’s self-explanatory. A personal opinion you can agree or disagree with, but given the things we’ve mentioned in this post and so many more, it’s perfectly understandable that he would feel like this. And he should be free to say it.

“Si Froilán se disparó en el pie siendo menor de edad igual ahora que es mayor de edad va a disparar a toda la Familia Real”: “if Froilán shot himself in the foot when he was underage, maybe now that he’s an adult he’ll shoot the whole Royal Family”

For those who don’t know, Froilán is the son of Infanta Elena, and so the nephew of the current king Philip VI. This line is a reference to 2012, when he was shooting in one of his parents’ possessions and he accidentally shot himself in the foot. It was illegal for him to be shooting in the first place, because Spanish law prohibits kids under 14 years of age to hold firearms, but of course nothing happened to his parents for doing illegal things because they’re the royal family.

Unsurprisingly, this line is considered “offense to the Crown”. It’s not a threat from Hasél, it’s just wishful thinking that I’m sure many people share.

And lines from other songs by Pablo Hasél:

“Siempre hay algún indigente despierto con quien comentar que se debe matar a Aznar”: “there’s always some homeless person awake with whom to talk about the need to kill Aznar”

José María Aznar was president of Spain between 1996 and 2004 with the right-wing party Partido Popular (PP). He was a shit president, during his presidency the labour rights decreased and left thousands of workers with way less protection than before, he focused a lot of his work as president on making the economy more neoliberal and left thousands of workers with unfair salaries and harsh working conditions by allowing the owners to fire and decrease pay at will. He also gave support to the USA in the occupation of Iraq, even when the population had been protesting against it (I was only 4 or 5 years old at the time and even I remember one of the general strikes against it).

“¡Merece que explote el coche de Patxi López!”: “Patxi López’s car deserves to explode”

“¡Que alguien clave un piolet en la cabeza a José Bono!”: “Someone stab an axe on José Bono’s head!”

“No me da pena tu tiro en la nuca, 'pepero'. Me da pena el que muere en una patera. No me da pena tu tiro en la nuca, 'socialisto'. Me da pena el que muere en un andamio”: “I’m not feeling sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, pepero [member of the PP party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in dinghy boats. I don’t feel sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, socialisto [member of the PSOE party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in a scaffold”.

“Prefiero grapos que guapos”: “I prefer GRAPOs to handsomes” (a pun). GRAPO was a communist and anti-imperialism armed organisation.

“Mi hermano entra en la sede del PP gritando ¡Gora ETA! A mí no me venden el cuento de quiénes son los malos, sólo pienso en matarlos”: “My brother goes in the PP’s headquarters shouting ‘Gora ETA!’. They won’t sell me the tale of who are the bad guys, I’m only thinking of killing them”

“Es un error no escuchar lo que canto, como Terra Lliure dejando vivo a Losantos”: “It’s a mistake to not listen to what I sing, like when Terra Lliure left Losantos alive”. Terra Lliure was a short-lived communist organisation that wanted to fight for the independence of the Catalan Countries through armed struggle. Jiménez Losantos is a fascist radio host who tells all kinds of lies and manipulates information to spread right-wingism, hatred towards national minorities, homophobia, etc.

“Los Grapo eran defensa propia ante el imperialismo y su crimen”: “GRAPO were self-defense against imperialism and its crime”.

“Quienes manejan los hilos merecen mil kilos de amonal”: “those who pull the strings deserve 1000 kg of ammonal”

“Pienso en balas que nucas de jueces nazis alcancen”: “I think of the bullets that would reach the nazi judges’ back of the necks”

None of these sentences are serious threats / plans at the moment. On the contrary, when the politicians he mentions make policies that directly cause deaths (of migrant people at the borders, suicides in migrant detention centers, of workers in their workplace, of people whose heat and gas is cut off or who are evicted, of women murdered by their husbands because they didn’t have anywhere to go for help, etc), now those are real crimes, aren’t they?

Pablo Hasél has been very vocal about being a communist. So I’ll copy-paste Friedrich Engels’ definition of “social murder”. I don’t know what Pablo had in mind when writing those lyrics but I think this fragments helps understand where he’s coming from.

When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live — forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence — knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains. (Engels, The Condition of the Working-Class in England, 1845)

So we can agree or disagree with Pablo Hasél and what he says or his way of saying it, but that doesn’t mean he should be jailed because of it. And it’s incredibly hypocritical to consider saying (not doing, just saying!) that “there’s always some homeless person to talk about the need to kill Aznar with” is violence, but to ignore that Aznar’s involvement in the Iraq helped kill thousands of civilians (for a lie, because Iraq did NOT have weapons of mass destruction!) and caused the misery and indirectly the death of so many workers.

If your question was why did Pablo Hasél say these things, I think two of the sentences we said sum it up:

“I’m not feeling sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, pepero [member of the PP party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in dinghy boats. I don’t feel sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, socialisto [member of the PSOE party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in a scaffold” and “GRAPO were self-defense against imperialism and its crime”. Pablo Hasél was highlighting how the current situation we live in is already violence. Violence inflicted by capitalism, imperialism and hatred, so he would consider his words self-defense.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.7

Of Monsters and Men

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)      x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 2490

Summary: ‘Nat’ and the boys are still on the road and to kill the time more than anything, they talk monsters and most importantly, witches. 

You know what they say: speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Warnings: mentions of violence, monsters, supernatural elements, mentions of amnesia and interesting dreams and swearing (always)

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

“Hold onto me tight. Can’t have you falling off, doll…”

“You’re such a troublemaker-“

“I want to see you come undone first. Can I, doll?”

“Do I look unwilling, doll? I’m actually pretty eager to find out how long do you need to recover…”

“Eyes on me, darling-”

You jolted awake with a gasp for air, your eyes snapping open into sharp midday sun. It took you a second to realize where you were, what the low purr under your body meant, music on low volume and a male voice softly humming along.

You blinked, meeting Sam’s gaze as he turned his head to face you.

“Hey. You alright?” he asked, concern furrowing his features.

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the blood rushing to your cheeks at the memory of the dream. They were bits and pieces, sweet and hot, yet leaving dull ache in your chest in their wake. You were absolutely sure this was your consciousness recalling moments with your soulmate, but you were unable to make anything useful of them. It was like chasing ghosts – eh, actually, did ghosts exist? What was it like, chasing them? Never mind-

You were supposed to be a ghost, because apparently you had died.

Alright. Shake it. Snap out of those messy thoughts.

The more awake your body got, the more you realized your chest wasn’t the only thing that was tense and it wasn’t only your neck that nearly cramped.

“Yeah,” you muttered finally, while Sam’s eyes managed to get really worried, still on you. “Just… call of nature.”

In more than one ways. Your bladder might actually burst soon, but you couldn’t deny your arousal either. Gee. Why did it have to be that kind of dream you had? Why couldn’t you see your soulmate’s face clearly instead? Nope scratch that, his ID would be better, complete with his freaking address.

“Hold on for about half an hour, Nat. I’d like to stretch my legs anyway and Garth should be waiting for us.”

You smiled at Dean despite him being unable to see it, his eyes focused on the road. It was sweet of him. You might as well be sweet back.

“Thanks, Dean. And you can turn the volume up, if it was low just because of me,” you hummed, holding back a chuckle when his hand immediately moved to the radio.

“Thanks, Nat. Wanna tell us what that dream of yours was about? You seem a bit shaky,” he nudged, surprisingly gentle. You would expect such approach from Sam, but he only glanced at you, apparently wanting to know as well.

You sighed, wondering how to put it without sounding like a horny teenager.

“It’s… I think they’re like memories? But they don’t make any sense,” you said in the end, casting your glance down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, fingers interlacing and disjointing again. “It’s my soulmate, I know as much. Or, you know, I’m pretty sure. It’s nothing useful though.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam soothed, his voice genuinely regretful. You just shook your head, sending a sad smile his way.

“The only pattern is a… a pet-name, I guess.” Well, until now, it was just one. ‘Darling’ was new. “He keeps calling me ‘doll’.”

You didn’t know why you told them, you weren’t planning on it. Except they were so genuinely nice to you it hurt and you felt like honesty was the least you could give in return. Now, you could practically touch their surprise.

It was Dean who commented on it, but not in a malicious way, which you were eternally grateful for.  

“Doll, huh? Maybe he’s a mafioso. Sounds like something from an old movie. Heh, maybe you time-travelled too!” he speculated out loud and you only gulped, not as amused as you should be. Was that a thing? Time-travel?

“God, I hope not,” Sam whined, effectively startling you. So it was possible?

“Nah, I bet it’s just him being a gentleman, ya know, the old-fashioned kind of guy. After all, how could he not, having such a… swell dame for a soulmate?”

Both you and Sam eyes Dean with wary and confusion.

“Since when you’re an expert on war era slang?” Sam demanded, amused surprise lacing his voice.

“Simpler times, Sam. Simpler times. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Sam just chuckled, shaking his head. You laughed as well despite not quite understanding what it meant. You simply enjoyed the banter and teasing that was strengthening their brotherly love; you already caught up that much, that they loved each other greatly. How could they not? They were both absolutely amazing despite their differences.

People might find it strange for them to be so close at their age – not that you knew theirs precisely, or yours for that matter – but you thought it was endearing. If they killed monsters for living, their lives couldn’t be normal and conventional, could they? It spiked your interest once more.

“Alright. What can you tell me about what you do and how you get your money?”

“Not sure you wanna hear that, d-- now I have the nickname stuck in my head, dammit. It’s not a pretty chat, Nat. You sure?”

You nodded, but agreed out loud for the god measure. After all, Dean was still driving.

“Your choice. We hunt monsters. But let me tell you, humans are actually the worst… well, humans and witches…”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Dean and Sam hadn’t even told half about the monsters that lurked in the shadows and you already felt overwhelmed, grateful when you reached Bedford and the older brother called his ID maker.

Garth was a nice guy, if a little overexcited and goofy.

He called you a madam, gave Sam a newest book by George R. R. Martin (who?), which seemed to excite the hunter greatly and Dean received a piece of apple pie. You couldn’t remember your life, but if you had, you were sure it still would have been Dean’s smile that was the brightest you had ever seen. Note to yourself; when repaying Sam and Dean, a pie and a book were necessities.

Your trio didn’t stop to chat with the man for long though – you needed to be on your way. Garth was apparently in the business of hunting, because he made a face way too similar to Sam’s at a mention of witches. You weren’t sure if you looked forward hearing about those; you guessed they weren’t wearing pointy hats and befriending cats.

The remaining hours to your destination flied; the brothers continued to educate you in monster food chain (people were usually the food, which you did not enjoy learning), briefing you on existence of things you could barely imagine. Also, they weren’t only friends with an angel, apparently – they were also on rather good terms with king of Hell.

“King of Hell?” you parroted, bewildered. What the h— heaven?!

“Yeah. Dean used to be bestie with him, too,” Sam quipped, half delighted at his brother’s annoyed face when sharing this fact, half bitter for pretty obvious reasons.

“Dude.”

“You keep the weirdest company,” you stated, your head buzzing with all the info you got. You grimaced when you realized that the company included you.

“We know,” Sam sighed, turning his tablet on. “But it’s not all bad. I mean, Garth, the guy you just met… he’s a werewolf and-“

“He’s a WEREWOLF?!” you yelped, causing the brothers jump in their seats and Dean jerk the steering wheel aside, throwing you all of balance.

“Christ, woman! Keep the volume low!” the driver spitted out as he returned to the correct lane, ignoring the honks of other cars. “I know, I know, shut up, I’m not drunk…”

“Sorry,” you blurted out on autopilot, your mind pre-occupied with the fact that the sweet dorky guy you had just met was a fucking werewolf.

It was Sam’s turn to apologize or he thought so. “My bad. I shouldn’t have just dropped that on you.”

“But he was so nice!”

“If you say so,” Dean assented reluctantly, voice dripping with doubt. You weren’t trying to figure out why he questioned such an obvious thing. It wasn’t your place. Not to mention you were still too astonished by the announcement.

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway. We have two victims so far. Both are young women, Alicia Peters, 16 years old and Helen Sanders, 16 as well. They were apparently classmates, rather good students, but not friends. One of them was found three days ago, the other yesterday. They both sneaked away in secret, some other classmates claimed to them being… eh, giggly. They thought they had new boyfriends,” Sam summed up, while Dean nodded every now and then. “Why do you think witches? Could be dragons… which would be probably even worse.”

“…dragons? You’re joking.”

Dragons were real now?!

Dean ignored your incredulous remark. “Virgins, right? That’s what I thought. But check this out – according to the coroner, they had a puncture wound over their heart like from some very thin needle – or, more likely, a very thin straw, because their hearts were completely drained of blood.”

Your head was definitely spinning now, your stomach flipping over. You had been getting hungry before, but not so much anymore. You wanted to tune the conversation out, but it was inevitable to hear it. Your ears wouldn’t listen; it was like watching a train-wreck happen and being unable to draw your gaze away. Morbid curiosity played a part too.

God, you really were weird company.

“That’s disgusting,” Sam stated, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen.

You only hummed in agreement, trying to get the visual from your brain. Soulmate. Think of your soulmate and his sultry voice calling you doll. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, shocked that it actually worked. His voice washed over you, cocooning you in a soft blanket.

“Tell me about it,” Dean agreed darkly, but Sam held out his hand all of sudden, causing both you and Dean freeze.

“What?”

“They found two young men this morning. John Doe One and Two for now. They were…” Sam wavered, eyeing you in the rear-view mirror. Now he was checking with you? You guessed your face was pale as a sheet of paper, but hey, it wasn’t like you couldn’t just try and cover your ears. You nodded at him encouragingly and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “…found in one bed, stabbed in the heart and… ugh, with their… tools ripped off.”

Dean winced, while you just blinked. Did he mean like… wow. Oh, wow. You weren’t sure how to react to that.

“There was a note. We apologize for ruining such pure lives of the sweetest kind and as a prove of our remorse, we present their families with-“ Sam faltered in his speech, gagging. “Yeah, alright. Apparently, the missing part of their bodies was found with the… note. No need to go into details.”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’d be pretty grateful if we stopped talking about that. What now, though? Do we believe this crap?”

“You could have an ally,” you quipped shyly, receiving Sam’s sigh in reply.

“Brutal one, but yes. We need to at least check it out.”

“Yeah, but we get a lunch before that. I need something to comfort me. You traumatized my love muscle, Sam. Do you have any-“

“Yeah, alright, just… stop right there,” Sam stopped his brother, as if shielding himself from TMI by holding out his palm against Dean. ��Got it. We need to stop for a bite.”

You giggled, the sound interrupted by your stomach growling. When had you got your appetite back?

“I guess lady in the back agrees,” Dean hummed, grinning in Sam’s direction. You laughed when you came to conclusion that he enjoyed making his younger brother uncomfortable, Sam making a face back at him as he realized the same.

They seemed like a greater pair of siblings the longer you spent with them.

It only took several minutes to get to the town and find a place to eat; Dean seemed to have a talent for finding food, which you appreciated immensely. You hadn’t been eating much, ashamed of using the brothers like that, so you were hungrier than you would be willing to admit. You had a sneaking suspicion that Sam was beginning to notice, because his eyes were narrowed as you picked the cheapest thing on the menu that appeared edible.

“You’re not eating,” he pointed out bluntly the moment the waitress left.

You just gaped at being caught and so shamelessly called out. Dean’s gaze shifted to you and now you had two men glaring at you keeping you company in the boot.

“I’m… not hungry.”

“Your stomach said differently,” Dean reminded you with his eyebrow arched in challenge. You opened your mouth uselessly, the protest dying in your throat at the intensity of his bright green eyes. “If this is about money, get your head out of your ass, Nat. You need to eat.”

“But-“

“But nothing. We’re having a desert,” he shut you up effectively, not permitting any objections.

You sighed, guiltily merging with your seat. A menu was placed in front of you, Dean’s fingers pointing at it.

“Actually, you’re picking one right now.”

You wordlessly obeyed, defeated. “I don’t mean to be difficult,” you whispered apologetically and Sam just shook his head with a smile.

“We know. And I get it, you don’t want to impose and use us, but… we chose to help you. Try to accept it, alright?”

You only nodded, determined to at least find the best dessert. The corners of your lips quirked when you found it.

“Looks like we’re in for an apple pie,” you decided, smirking in Dean’s direction. His eyes lit up and you couldn’t but feel the warmth around your heart at that. You actually did that, made him smile. Maybe you weren’t the worst company in the world after all. “Unless you’re sick of it after-“

Dean’s hand snatched the menu away, shutting it close. “Shut you piehole, Nat.”

Sam laughed as they brought your food.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You were just finishing your infamous dessert, when the brothers stiffened at the voice coming from behind their back, the other side of the boot.

You frowned, not finding anything strange about the female voice with British accent.

“Thank you, darling. It will be all,” the woman said politely.

The moment the waitress left, Sam and Dean stumbled from their seats and towards the other boot. The tension in their shoulders only grew and they let out a ridiculously synched irritated sigh, multiple emotions playing on their face; you caught annoyance and a bit of anger for sure.

“Rowena,” Sam greeted her in pretended politeness and you couldn’t but check the situation out. They didn’t seem to be happy about running into their acquaintance.

You got a glimpse of a redhead sipping at her tea delicately, her pinkie raised as she held her cup.

“Hello, boys.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 8

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺ 

I adore that woman, I swear. She’s so classy and sassy. 

Also, for those who haven’t seen SPN, I extended the guide at the end of chapter one - you’ll find ‘Chuck’ and ‘Rowena’ there ;)

Thank you for reading!

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—chapter eight ; the flapper girl.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing, drinking

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

“TERESA, would it kill ya to quit staring at me? I'm tryna do my work here." He fumbles for the ballpoint pen that fell out of his shaky hand. Even when his eyes were down, he still felt hers following his every move when he picked up certain sheets, watching his lips curl when he read a sentence on a report from his father, or just overthinking if Teresa was judging his appearance. There's nothing on my chin, is there? Food in my teeth?

"Am I making the Italian mafioso Luca Changretta nervous?" Teresa leaned over the desk to trail her finger down Luca's chest where she could tease him by gripping the line of his blazer and rip the buttons off. "The same Italian mafioso that got some amateur in Los Angeles to beg on his knees?"

Luca didn't look up from his work. "He was trying to be sneaky and spent nearly a hundred dollars worth of gin for his mistress."

"Is that something you would do? Spend every dime to make his mistress happy?"

"I spend money on myself, to make myself look and feel good, some for business and for special occasions. But I also save," Luca glanced at her, mostly at her cleavage. "And you're not my mistress. I'm not even married. My mother wonders when I'm ever gonna tie the knot with a woman back home." Luca sighs and takes a break, resting his head for a moment. He grunts, rubbing his temple.

"Want me to take over?"

"No," Luca pulls her closer, using his other hand to set his folders to the side so carelessly. "Come here."

She obeys, allowing him to lift her up and carry her on top of his desk.

Luca kisses her. "Ciao, bella," he whispers to her. He kept going, making his way into the sensitive spot of Teresa's neck, his lips pressing against it so gently.

Teresa chuckles, feeling his hand run up her dress. "Who are you? Dracula?"

"Hm?"

"I mean you sort of look like him. You're about to drain the blood out of my neck, so you need me to be in the right position."

"Dracula draining the blood from a flapper girl, eh?"

The sounds of knocking on the heavy wooden doors made Teresa hop off the desk, thinking it was one of his men, or even his mother. She wouldn't contain the embarrassment of being affectionate and intimate with someone's son. It could possibly be the maids, but not the same ones from the hotel Luca stayed at. He fancied staying at a manor his father bought somewhere up north, his family members occupying the other rooms just a few ways down, but just spacious enough for everyone, even for a Welsh named Teresa.

Luca clears his throat and turns the knob. The servers come in with the trolley cart of a decanter and two glasses. "You ordered whiskey, Sir?"

The Italian watched the servers roll in the bar cart and nodded at him before shutting the door on their way out. "You like whiskey, amore?"

"Love all kinds of poison." Teresa walked over to the cart, picking up the vessel. She lifts the glass lid and brings it to her nose to let in a good smell. "Rich, like you."

Luca scoffs. "Yeah, if you drink out of that decanter, you'll become a part of us."

Teresa scoffs back.

"What? Teresa, becoming a soldier was like striking gold."

"I'd rather stay here and sit in the gardens, or walk around this palace wearing only my stockings."

Luca shrugged, imagining the erotic sight. It's happened before and he experienced it first-hand. "I bought you those stockings," he comments, staring down at her legs.

"I'll become a part of your family when the cows come home."

"Oh, come on! Don't gimme that. My family likes you."

"Seriously?" Teresa makes a face at him, and he responds by rolling his eyes.

"Okay, maybe it'll take some time."

"Your mother called me a brazen hussy the other day. Like what you said, she wants you to marry a woman in New York. She's mentioned a name, the woman is close with your family and she often visits at dinner parties? She came to the wedding." Teresa smirks. "She's Italian."

Luca grunts, knowing exactly who she was talking about. "Viviana."

"Signora Viviana must be the whole package."

"We consider her family, but I can't imagine marrying her," Luca shook his head, pouring himself a glass of the whiskey. "Matteo would be crushed."

Teresa was already ahead of him, nearly downing the whiskey, ready for a refill. She brings the glass to her lips, about to take in the last sip. "Do you want to get married?"

"Someday."

Teresa nodded.

"When we were at my cousin's wedding, as best man, I watched two people who were so in love exchange vows. I really felt the love my cousin had for his wife that day. And I know one day that'll happen to me. I'll marry the most beautiful bride who is my whole world. I'll be able to wake up next to her and remember how she likes her coffee in the morning."

"She'll be the luckiest wife."

"I'll treat her like a diamond."

"She'll come around. I'm sure she's somewhere out there, searching for you. Hell, she could be right on your bloody nose," Teresa jokes.

Well to be fair, the woman named Viviana was right on Luca's nose for quite some time. She shared her beautiful smile with the family, and Luca did admire her, respected her when she paid her contribution to the family. She could be waiting for him to return home as of right now, and throw her arms around the Italian so they could spend a night drinking champagne on a balcony.

Yet, Luca didn't set his lust and attention on Viviana. Not even at his cousin's wedding. Luca was picky when it came to his preferences with people, that's part of being a Changretta. But there was someone he wished his mother showed at least some respect to, a woman whose eyes light up like stars whenever Luca says her name...

Yeah, he answered to himself, watching Teresa refill her glass from the whiskey decanter. Maybe I already found her.

TERESA ran her fingers through her head, thinking about what she told Finn the other day that made the young boy rush back to Small Heath before she could settle down for her lunch break, taking her words with him. The blinds that gaped in between to let in the last bit of afternoon sun into the dark room of her office gave out the blonde locks she styled for yet another casual day. Simply walking down each corridor and back to the departments was a way to wastefully tear down the strands to her cheeks as she kept her head down so carelessly.

See what happens when you open your mouth, 'Resa? She sighs, knowing that revealing her past love to be the man that's after the Peaky Blinders would either cause high tides between her and them, or maybe even her and Luca himself, or maybe more pestering phone calls from Tommy.

Luca. He's a malicious man, she couldn't deny that. He would get his way without an issue, and if someone had to object about that, if someone were to challenge a man with such high power, would they live to tell about it? She would hate having the idea of handing the one thing she has all to herself to a man who would gladly have paintings hung in his gigantic home. The Changretta family distributes gin in and out of America with the exception of handling Alfie Solomons' rum, anyways, so why would he want to claim an art gallery all the way in Wales?

The thought of Luca threatening to put a bullet through hers or any one of her loved ones' heads sent a chill in her body. Would Luca ever do that to her? Would the Italian ever have the thought of harming someone he had a past relationship with? Would he regret it?

What was even left of Teresa's loved ones, anyhow? She wasn't as close to her team to consider them family. Perhaps one time she scolded the manager for not realizing one of their employees smoked a cigar when the gallery has a strict no smoking indoors rule, but she couldn't live with the thought of having them indirectly killed by the New York mafia. Come to think of it, she didn't have anyone, which is just as disheartening as having someone to protect. Maybe if she never got her brother killed that day—

She walks out after setting her teacup in the tiny space left open on her desk. Normally she would hear distant chatters from the tour guides speaking to the guests, or just guests speaking among each other, talking about whatever piece they lay their gaze on. But she frowned when she noticed how empty the gallery was, except for maybe five guests. Given that it's still hours in the early afternoon. Why wasn't it busy?

Teresa approaches two guides, asking the question that swirled her head. "Where is everyone?"

"I believe the gallery is in need of an upgrade." One of the tour guides spoke out, a bit of nervousness in their voice to speak up on feedback to the owner.

"Was deco not enough?"

"Most of it has already been seen, Miss."

The Welsh shook her head. "What does that even mean? The people wanted to see deco, we gave them deco. I provided rum to the guests on the grand re-opening, I made sure this place is clean and shiny from every inch of every corner. How could this place already be dead? At this hour?"

The tour guides slightly shook their heads, shrugging.

Teresa sighs. "Fine. Have any of you seen Mason?"

Mason Miller was hired on the spot when his well pressed suit and love for Rococo struck admiration for Teresa. She saw her younger self in him, almost like she was looking in the mirror of the past. Someone at a young age so passionate, she needed him as extra help.

"With all due respect, Miss Griffith, there hasn't been enough—I would say razzle-dazzle, to the place. We have a lot to catch up on, or guests will yawn and find themselves out the exit."

"Mason, this is a gallery, not a circus." Teresa scratches her neck. "It's been days since the opening. Our blood, sweat and tears shouldn't be a one time thing and dropped down to rubbish."

Her assistant shrugs. "Well, these days people don't wake up and think about visiting a gallery, y'know? You can find art deco everywhere you go; fancy dinner parties, manors. It inspires what we wear on occasions."

Teresa stares at her desk. "If Luca Changretta were to ever own this gallery, would he fix this problem? Make the place go fucking bankrupt?"

"I'm sorry, w-who? Luca Ch..." Mason asks, skimming through his clipboard of names he might have missed pinpointing and scheduling a meeting with.

Teresa looked at her assistant, realizing she spoke out her thoughts. "It's nothing. You're dismissed."

"Thank you." He smiles to himself as he bid an exit out of her office for Teresa to be back with her thoughts. Her jaw clenched. I will not let my team down, and I will not give my gallery to a mafioso.

"Actually, Mason?" the young lad stepped foot inside again, peering in with his full attention on one odd request. "Luca Changretta, that's his name. I'd like for you to find where he is at the moment and set up an invitation via letter. Let me know when he responds at your earliest convenience."

"Miss...?"

She didn't stop rationalizing it. She even settled for it faster than deciding not to ally with the Peaky Blinders. Mason Miller stared awkwardly at his boss as she set her focus back on her notepad laid on her desk. "I'd like to meet up with Luca Changretta."

+ enjoy my scene edit above! my peaky blinders editing account is @/fcknshelbys via ig.

[miraizu]

Open Book - 6. Lion’s Den

Open Book Ship: Chrollo Lucilfer/Reader Part: 6/?? [PREV] | [NEXT] Word count: 3,408 Warnings: None. Synopsis:  Everybody has to make a way of living. Some are hunters, some are thieves, some are just regular civilians trying to enjoy their lives. You? You’re an informant, and in York New City, a city that never sleeps, you’re about to find out just how much of a commodity that really makes you.

       "Are you dead?"

       Peering into the dilapidated building, you didn't sound all too concerned if your new (forced) companion was dead or alive.  After Chrollo had boldly exclaimed that he had needed you, you had quickly became flustered and demanded an explanation.

       As it had turned out, he hadn't needed you, per se, so much as your abilities.  He needed information - information you weren't sure you could provide yet, considering he had remained tight-lipped about any specifics.  Instead, he had led you out of the building, only to be confronted by Zeno Zoldyck and another whom you could only assume was Silva Zoldyck.  At the sight of them approaching, you had quickly veered off, telling Chrollo you'd wait for him.  You had locked eyes with Zeno for a moment - if he recognized you, he didn't show it.

       You could hear the sounds of fighting inside, but resisted the urge to peek.  That'd be suicide, and you remained true to your word.  After a short amount of time - much shorter than you had been expecting, honestly - the door had opened, and Zeno and Silva had walked out, both completely disregarding you.  For a moment, you thought the strange feeling in your chest was relief, but wrote it off.  Not relief, but you weren't sure what else it was as you peered in.

       Unfortunately, Chrollo wasn't dead, meaning you'd still have to go with him to see the rest of the Phantom Troupe.  It wasn't ideal, but you had given your word so you wouldn't back out now.  Instead, you walked further in, taking a moment to admire what was left of the interior before your eyes stopped on Chrollo.  He looked a bit worse for wear, but all of the injuries were superficial.  You sighed.

       "And here I was hoping I'd be left off the hook."

       Chrollo's smile turned dry as he approached and walked past, only stopping to wait for you to follow him again.  "How sad," he feigned sadness, although it was easy to tell he wasn't really.  "I thought I was beginning to grow on you."

       Your gaze burned into his back as the two of you walked, eyes shrewd and thoughtful.  No way the Zoldycks would just walk off on a job, unless...  "You either hired for their employers to be killed, or you paid those two more money than their original boss.  Correct?"

       You couldn't see Chrollo's face, but could only imagine the smile on his face as he spoke.  "I hired somebody to kill the Ten Dons, yes.  With money off the table, there's no reason for them to continue."

       You almost came to a complete stop.  "The Ten Dons?  Of the mafia?"

       He looked back at you from over his shoulder, expression turning unreadable.  "Is that a problem?"

       For the first time tonight, you smiled widely, not believing the luck of it all.  "Not at all.  I hate those mafia bastards, so good riddance."

       Turning back to the front before you could see his facial expression change, Chrollo continued to walk.  You continued to follow.

       It was chaos all around, but Chrollo wasn't bothered by it, walking through it all as if this was nothing.  To him, it probably was, and you followed his lead, not paying the dead bodies of various mafioso a second thought.  You had to be careful where you stepped - without shoes, the last thing you needed was to step on broken glass or any other sharp object.  Neither of you were in a hurry, it seemed, so it was easy to watch your step.

       Looking down at the ground, though, came at a cost.  You hadn't sensed Chrollo stop right away, and unable to react in time you had bumped into his back, stumbling backwards immediately.  In your momentary clumsiness, you had stepped backwards onto a bent piece of metal, the object piercing into the heel of your foot as a slew of obscenities left your mouth in retaliation.  Chrollo had turned around, watching the scene in clear amusement.  Shooting the Troupe leader a venomous glare, you managed to stumble back onto a blood-coated bench, ignoring the liquid in favor of yanking the piece of metal out of your heel.  It wasn't super deep - certainly nothing for you to worry about too much.  It still hurt, though, and without anything to protect it from the pavement, walking was going to be terrible.

       Kneeling in front of you, Chrollo took your foot without warning to inspect the wound, and your leg shot out.  If it weren't for his quick reaction time in catching your ankle, you would have kicked his teeth in.

       "We have bandages at the hideout," he reassured you, and you suppressed the insults you wanted to fling at him.  You were in a foul mood - you were deprived of sleep, practically being held hostage to go to the Phantom Troupe's hideout, had no shoes, an injured foot, and Chrollo's constant goading to deal with.  Instead of calling him all sorts of names, you held your tongue, sticking with your glower for now.

       Sensing your malcontent, Chrollo's gaze seemed to soften up into a more unreadable expression.  "I'll carry you."

       "You'll what."

       Your voice came out flat and unamused, and Chrollo's smile came back.  "You can't walk, so I'll carry you."  Without further warning he had scooped you up.  The blood on the back of your dress didn't do much for Chrollo's already-ruined outfit as he held you bridal style.  You resisted the urge to shove yourself away from him, not wanting to collide with the pavement below.

       "Can't you carry me on your back, at least?!"  Your voice came out strained, a bit higher.  More embarrassed.  He looked down, expression amused and mischievous as his eyes swept your bunched up form.

       "In that dress?"

       Ah, right.  You'd be revealing too much skin if you were to be carried on his back, but it didn't make you any more pleased about the situation.  It was just one thing after another, it seemed.

       With you in his arms in a way that infuriated as much as it flustered you, he had been able to pick up the pace to a much faster speed.  You were tense, not wanting to relax in a murderer's arms.  Being carried was a foreign feeling, one you weren't really fond of as it was turning out.  It seemed their base was on the outskirts of the city, and the closer you got, the larger the pit in your stomach grew.

       You were walking right into the lion's den.  Well, you were being carried right into the lion's den.

       You weren't sure what was worse.

       On the outskirts of York New City was the abandoned part of town.  You knew the area well, and weren't surprised this was where Chrollo and the Troupe had decided to make their base.

       "Ah, Chrollo..."

       You weren't one to hesitate or stutter, usually.  Being an informant, and from Meteor City to boot, had made you a very blunt and sometimes rude person.  Not one to mince words, not one to sugar coat stuff.  Lately, with no thanks to Chrollo, you hadn't been adhering to your normal speech patterns.  The man seemed to know just what to say and do to completely derail you, and you hated it.  You were usually the one reading people, not the other way around!

       Humming, Chrollo didn't glance down, and you continued.  "Before we get to your base, I should probably let you know that I actually know one of the Phantom Troupe members."

       He didn't stop, and his facial expression barely changed as he spoke.  "I'm aware."

       What a nonchalant reply.  Gritting your teeth, and trying not to let the irritation show on your face, you put on a strained smile.  "Then you'd know we aren't on the best of terms right now."

       He was coming to a stop in front of a particularly run down building.  "You won't be hurt so long as you listen."

       "Yes, because that's reassuring."

       His lips finally quirked upwards, and you had to quickly avert your gaze to avoid from staring at his face.  "Put me down."

       "What if you step on something sharp again?"

       You finally brought your gaze back to him, giving him an especially nasty look.  He just raised an eyebrow, clearly not intimidated at all by your glare as he gently set you down.  The moment your heel hit the rubble beneath your feet hurt.  You wanted nothing more than to let out another stream of swear words, but instead you kept your cool, biting the inside of your cheek and keeping your face neutral.  The only telltale sign that you were in pain would be the clenched fists and the twitching of your eyebrows.  If Chrollo noticed (and you're certain he did), he didn't say anything about it.

       Without any other words exchanged, the two of you had entered the hide out.  Each step was excruciating, but you did well in hiding the pain.

       The room entered in was wide.  You were sure it had probably been multiple rooms at some point, but the walls had been torn down to make the space more open - whether it happened naturally, or a Troupe member did it, you weren't sure.  The ceiling was a lot higher than you expected, and near the opposite end of the room was a large pile of rubble, where a few of the Troupe members sat.  The rest were scattered throughout the room, each engrossed in their own activities, be it thinking or reading or messing around on their phones.

       The moment the two of you walked in, the atmosphere changed.  You were well aware that all eyes were on you, and scanning the room, you had to keep your face completely neutral as you locked eyes with an unexpected face.  Hisoka.  Of course he would be here.  Did this have to do with that nen exorcist he asked you about?  Or were the two unrelated?

       Hisoka was probably equally as surprised to see you of all people here, but the both of you were great actors.  He glanced away in feigned disinterest, and your eyes slid over him without a second thought.  Finally, you found the person you had been looking for, although it wouldn't have been hard with that kind of malicious aura directed right at you.

       It happened in a flash.

       He had leapt forward, drawing his hidden blade out as he appeared in front of you, the tip of the blade mere centimetres from your throat.  You didn't flinch, knowing he wouldn't kill you as your smile turned wry, looking down at your friend.

       "Feitan," you greeted, switching to your guys' native language.  "It's nice to see you again."

       You doubted anybody else knew your guys' native language, as everybody seemed confused save for Chrollo, and Feitan responded in kind, his words venomous.  "What are you doing here?  You're supposed to be lying low, you fucking idiot."

       "Like you?"

       After a moment, Feitan withdrew the sword and placed it back into the parasol that was on his back.  Finally, you allowed a genuine smile to light up your face, and without a moment of hesitation you drew the shorter man in for a hug.  He didn't hug back, but he didn't resist either, grumbling all the while and looking done with everything.

       "It's good to see you again, cousin."

       This garnered a reaction as a man in a traditional samurai garb stepped forward, clearly annoyed.  "What the hell is going on?  Cousin?!"

       "Too noisy.  Shut up."

       You snorted at Feitan's words, smile dying back down into your usual neutral expression.  "We're not actually related," you explained.  "But where we come from, it's just a common term to call a close friend."

       "Not friends."

       You ignored Feitan's jab as the samurai guy turned to Chrollo next to you.  "Danchou, what is the meaning of this?!"

       You eyed samurai-guy warily, taking note of the long sword.  With his easy anger, you'd guess his nen type is an emitter.  Possibly an enhancer, but you were banking on the former.

       Chrollo wasn't surprised at the information that had just been presented to him as he acknowledged the member.  "Nobunaga," he stated calmly, "This is [Y/n].  She may have information on the Chain User we need and has agreed to help."

       Chain User?  That was new, and didn't strike a bell at all.  Would they kill you if you didn't have the information?  You and Feitan were close, but you knew full well he would put the Spider before you, and would probably request to be the one to kill you himself if you were going to die.  It's just how the two of you were - you wouldn't hold a grudge if it came to that, but that didn't mean you really wanted to die, either.

       Nobunaga, the samurai, visibly tensed, eyeing you suspiciously.  This guy clearly didn't like you.  The feeling was mutual, and you knew you were going to have to be on guard around him.

       "She knows the Chain User?!"

       A different voice cut in as a guy with short blond hair stepped forward, an unnerving smile on his face.  "No," he said, his voice certain.  "She's the the best information broker in York New City.  She knows everyone and everything."

       Clearly not, although you opted to not say anything, feeling anxiety grow within your chest.  This situation was not looking too well.

       Shifting onto your non-injured leg, you pointedly glanced down at your foot.  "Is it possibly I could patch this up first?"

       Chrollo hummed, his eyes sliding over to your old friend.  "Feitan."

       He didn't need to say anything as Feitan nodded sharply once before turning around and starting to walk.  You were confused as of what to do, looking back and forth between Chrollo and Feitan before the latter turned around, back to his native language.  "Well?  Are you going to stand around all day?"

       Taking that as your cue, you followed him to a room off to the side, equally as run-down as the rest of the building.  There was a single chair and various bloodstains on the floor - you assumed Feitan used this as a torture room, knowing how sadistic your friend tended to be.  Sitting on the chair, you rested your calf on your thigh to take a better look at your heel.  It was already red and irritated, covered in blood and dirt.  It didn't help you had no footwear.

       Rustling with something in the corner, Feitan had come back with a sad-looking first-aid kit.  You raised an eyebrow in amusement.  "I thought you tortured, not healed."

       "Shut up."

       The two of you stayed quiet as he took out peroxide, not giving you warning as he poured what felt like way too much on the wound.  You hissed in pain, shooting him a sharp glare.  He didn't look up, and the bandanna covered most of his face, but judging by way his eyes crinkled slightly you could tell he was at least smirking.

       "Fucking sadist."

       He didn't dignify that with a response, pulling out gauze and ointment and handing it to you.  "Do it on own."

       You gave him an unimpressed look but put the ointment on and wrapped your foot up neatly.  With your natural aura production, it'd be healed by tomorrow morning, but you couldn't risk an infection.

       Standing up, you tried not to wince.  It still hurt, but you had much worse, and weren't going to be a baby about it.  Glancing over at Feitan, who was impatiently waiting, you rolled your eyes, grumbling out a sarcastic 'thanks'.

       "Fuck you," was his response.

       With your foot wrapped and taken care of, you were led back to the party, where Chrollo was currently handing out fortunes with an ability he supposedly stole from Neon Nostrade.  There seemed to be a few peculiar requirements, and you were curious and tempted to ask for your own fortune.  You weren't given the chance as Feitan yanked your arms around your back, tying your wrists together.

       "Seriously?  After all we've been together?"

       Feitan snorted, and pulled your arms tighter in response.  "Exactly.  I know how you are, you'll try to escape first chance.  We may know each other, but I won't hesitate to kill you."

       He wasn't wrong, and you hated it, but you had also given your word.  Chrollo knew where you worked and lived, so clearly running away wouldn't do you the best, but you opted to not argue anymore.  You had learned long ago that arguing with Feitan just made him angrier and more antagonistic, and that was exactly what you what you wanted to avoid.

       Being force to sit down, you could do nothing but watch as Chrollo continued to give out fortunes.  He had looked over briefly, nodding at Feitan once as the shorter male came over to see what was going on since he couldn't get his fortune read.  He didn't protest at all to you being tied up.  Great, nobody trusted you, although you couldn't blame them.

       With fortunes done - not everybody could get a fortune read due to now knowing the questions themselves - you listened in boredom as they flung out accusations at each other, before Hisoka handed over his own fortune.  You could feel yourself start to grow a bit antsy.  Hisoka wasn't dumb, and you knew about Texture Surprise.  Most likely, he had altered the fortune a bit - but then, what game was he playing at, here?  You refused to look at him, mulling it over in your head.  Everybody's fortunes were basically telling them to get the hell out of dodge, and yet Hisoka's was advising for the Troupe to stay...

       For some reason, your mind went back to the mysterious blond customer once again.  Realization started to dawn slowly on you.  Clearly, somebody was after the Phantom Troupe, and had the blond himself not said that he would dispose of them?  Was he working in tandem with Hisoka?  Or were they two separate cases?

       Keeping your face still so nobody could figure out your inner turmoil, you let out a small sigh as Chrollo started to question Hisoka.  Great.  Why did you have to be stuck in the middle of this mess?

       "[Y/n]."

       Hearing your name get called out, you looked up, raising an eyebrow at Chrollo and waiting for him to continue.  "Your nen ability allows you to gather somebody's information.  Can you use it on Hisoka?"  Despite the polite tone, you knew he wasn't actually asking, and you flexed your wrists from behind your back, thinking carefully.

       Really, it would be a fruitless endeavor.  You already had Hisoka's information, and while an update never hurt, it wouldn't change much.  Not that you could let the Troupe know you and Hisoka had already met.  Furthermore, you were going to have to think up a lie to cover Hisoka, and fast.  You had a feeling that Hisoka would murder you if you gave away his ruse, especially since the smile on his face was now gone as his golden eyes stared into you intently.

       You were backed into a corner.

       ". . . Can I request something in return?"

       "You insolent--!"

       Chrollo cut off Nobunaga, seeming amused.  "Do you forget that you're our hostage here?"

       You snorted.  "Oh, yes, I definitely forgot with my hands tied behind my back and all," you said sarcastically, before your face grew serious.  "I want my fortune told."

       Chrollo raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that.  "Oh?"

       "It would benefit you, too," you quickly explained.  "Seeing as how our futures are intertwined for the time being, it'd be smart to know how it pans out on my end, especially if you want information on the Chain User."  It was a risky game you were playing, you knew that any of them could kill you in an instant, but you weren't raised to cower in fear.  You'd be damned if you backed down.

       After a moment, Chrollo nodded, approaching you and squatting down.  You repeated the requested information before he started to write, and you could only watch, intrigued, as he wrote down your fortune.  After a few moments, he handed the paper to you, and you glanced over it, lips thinning into a small line.

       Well, shit.  This did not work out in your favor.

[oraoraora-ariariari]

I don’t normally do asks but I really like your writing so can I request cute tickle fight headcannons for Bucciarati’s team? (If not then just Narancia, Bruno, and Abbacchio), like who would actually engage in one and who would win?

Hewwo!! ♥️

Please forgive my delayed response, I had to think about this one a bit!

Before I begin, first of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH for the kind compliment on my writing, honestly that means a WHOLE lot to me as I consider myself a better visual artist than writer XD. Anyway, ty, ty, ty!!!! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

Also, since I tend to write a lot, even in my HCs, I'm going to split this up into separate posts, so I'll rebog with replies for each member hope you don't mind & maybe it'll give you something to look forward to 😁

Now:

TICKLE FIGHT HEADCANONS FOR THE BUCCI GANG!

Bruno:

Although Bruno is known for being the serious but warm type, there are times (during the few occasions that he gets the chance to be leisurely) when he can be rather playful, even mildly mischievous!

They are never malicious in any way, especially towards you, more adorable than anything else.

One of his favorite things to do is initiate tickle fights!

He'll often sneak up behind you while you're reading a book or doing the dishes or something and start tickling you near your armpits or by the nape of your neck (Spots where he's found you're the most sensitive, hehe) and frenetically yet gently, poke and prod your skin with all fingers until you buckle in his arms in laughter, chuckling as you tell him to cut it out. In all honesty, you love it though.

Most definitely known to use Sticky Fingers to create a zipper in the couch you're sitting on or a nearby wall, or possibly even on your person (😳) that he would partially pop out of and start tickling you, then zip himself away lol.

Fun fact; he's actually CONSIDERABLY ticklish, a lot more than you might expect from someone so calm and collected. His most ticklish spots are his chest, the inner part of his elbows and his haunches (That word always cracked me up...haunches, hehehe)

Your laughs, however cliché, are musical to him and he'll do anything to hear you do so. When he sees her has successfully tickled you to the point that you uncontrollably squeal from the way his fingers play on you as though you were a grand piano, he chuckles himself. His eyes tend to light up when you guys tickle each other because it reminds him of simpler times he missed when his dad would tickle him to make him laugh, especially when he saw Bruno deep in thought or looking depressed.

It's extremely cute to see Bruno act more....youthfully than his usual, refreshing even. He is still, only 20 after all.

Oh, and if you so happen to engage and tickle him back—prepare for your ears to be blessed by the most adorable, bellowing laugh. Bruno didn't get to laugh as much as he probably deserved to due to his line of work, so when he did, it was the auditory equivalent of laying in a meadow with warm but mellow sunlight rejuvenating your body and soul.

He can sometimes be competitive about these tickle fights, trying to see who will laugh the most. Gentleman that he is, he'll almost always let you win.

If you get him in one of those spots really good, he might actually squeal in glee! It may cause a few raised eyebrows from Giorno & Mista, possibly Abbacchio as well, but they afterwards just smile to themselves because they're happy that their selfless, conscientious Capo, Bucciarati, can occasionally get a chance to unwind and be more of his naturally free spirited (though still cool as a cucumber) self. His true self, not the ruthless-when-needed mafioso he was forced to become. 💙

Narancia:

Narancia, as we all know tends to be the most immature of the bunch, and though he takes his job seriously, outside of those times, he's always trying to make everyone around him laugh.

One way he attempts to do so (though it doesn't always work) is via tickling! It works better on some than others.

He knows for sure he can always make you laugh when the urge arises, so he will plot and scheme to figure out the best time to pounce.

He initiates the tickle fights 96% of the time

Somehow, even though you're the one he's tickling, he almost always ends up laughing more than you... Maybe he's anticipating you doing the same to him?

You usually let him win, otherwise he can get pretty whiny "What the HELLLLL, I was the one trying to make you laugh the most, why didn't you just submiiiiiiit 😭😭"

When you tickle him hard enough he lets out the cutest goofy laugh!

You guys might even end up in a game of tag trying to tickle each other; Narancia can be pretty reckless, so while chasing you, he may end up knocking down a number of things in the house (which of course, pisses off Abbacchio 🤪)

Little things like that make him happy, as he didn't have the happiest childhood. He feels like he's found new family in Passione, in you, and with something so innocent as tickling he feels he is making up for lost time. 🧡

Ok Anon, I'll add the other members hcs after a while, hope these are to your liking so far! 😁♥️🙏🏾