#THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED TO ME A WHILE AGO HELP

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area. 

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean. 

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself. 

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia. 

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally. 

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai. 

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on. 

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers. 

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?” 

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on. 

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror. 

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?” 

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there. 

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression. 

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him. 

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.” 

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this? 

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently. 

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears. 

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp. 

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box. 

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you. 

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time. 

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out. 

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos. 

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance. 

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias. 

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him. 

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But is this really any better? 

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress. 

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?” 

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall. 

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are. 

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away. 

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners. 

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?” 

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them. 

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer. 

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?” 

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?” 

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him. 

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them. 

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths. 

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake. 

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start. 

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other. 

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting. 

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does. 

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him. 

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him. 

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond. 

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance. 

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth. 

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction. 

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you. 

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous. 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Wait for you Pt.2 | L.N.

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Nothing can stand between true love. But what if said love is taken from one's memory?

Warnings: angst, fluff:3

Word count: ~4.9K

A/N: Hello hello! I have finally got aroud to finishing this piece! Hope ya'll enjoy it <3

Lando could not concentrate, not for more than a sentence before his mind was once again playing you as his favourite movie.

Your smile, your eyes it all felt too good to be true and lord… the kiss. Lando had to physically restrain himself every time his mind went there. All he wanted was to run out of this room full of people talking about plans for the upcoming race and just run to you.

His skin was itchy and on fire from waiting for your touch. Now that you’ve given him a dose, given him hope, he was hooked with anticipation for more.

After the conference everyone dispersed into their own rooms except for Lando who followed Oscar to his driver’s room.

“Oscar you will not believe what happened!” Lando giggled as he closed the door.

Thus began the recollection of the touching moment on the roof top with you.

“- and then I asked her out and she said yes, and even gave me a kiss on my cheek before I entered the conference room! Can you imagine that Oscar?! She kissed me!” excitement was pooling around Lando’s lower lash line.

Oscar had forgotten what a truly happy Lando looked like and no matter how tired he was now, he did not want to be anywhere but right here on the uncomfortably tough sofa, listening to his friend talk about his love, especially because that love was you.

“Well that sounds like good news mate, where are you gonna take her by the way?” Oscar watched the life drain from Lando’s face as the excitement for the rendezvous converted to pure stress of the situation.

“Oh my God?! Where am I going to take her?!” Lando started pacing around the small room in circles making Oscar feel positively dizzy just from following Lando with his eyes.

“HELP ME OSCAR!” The older male pulled at his own hair out of sheer desperation for someone else’s input.

“Well just take her where you’ve taken her before, it’ll help her jog the memory,” Oscar answered calmly, rubbing his eyes. Lando’s pacing really did make him dizzy.

“Wait, that’s actually a really good idea. She loved our first date, she was never tired from talking about it,” Lando‘s eyes sparkled with the memory of your hands wrapping around his every time you told someone about your first date. Those were the moments when Lando understood just how deeply he felt for you and how you loved him just as much.

“Exactly. Everything is gonna work out, I can feel it,” Oscar laid an encouraging hand on his teammates shoulder. If reassurance was what Lando needed, Oscar will be there to provide.

The next few days at the paddock were filled with shy glances and giggles as the date spurred the two to secure their connection. Your laughter was never ending as so were Lando’s bright smiles. It seemed that every sentence Lando could think of sounded like the funniest joke to your ears.

While Oscar explained their upcoming race schedule to Lando, comically unbeknownst to him, Lando’s eyes were trained only on one person, as for all his attention too.

“What do you think about that Lando?” Oscar looked into the eyes of his friend only to find his point of attention trained behind himself rather than at him.

As he turned to find the culprit of Lando’s attention, he found no one else but you perched on a counter, lit up by the golden evening sun. Lando giggled as you waved at him and lifted his hand to wave back at you, both of your blushes ever-growing.

“Oh c’mon man, we’ve been through this!” Oscar’s eyes rolled back into his skull.

Damn these two love birds. As much as Oscar was thrilled for his friends once again being together the shy-giggly faze is just as annoying as it was a year ago.

You winked at Lando and he almost lost his stance.

“Really?” Oscar signs.

“She’s flirting with me!” Lando became defensive clutching his chest.

“Mate she’s literally your girlfriend…”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Lando’s smile never left his face as he watched your eyes focus back on the book that lay rested on your thighs.

In that moment something clicked for Lando. Life is truly as good as it can get. All uncertainty has been washed away by hope. It truly felt like you were healing him with every single glance. Perhaps it was just Lando’s imagination but whenever he met your eyes they were yours, he knew those eyes and for the first time in a long time Lando could let himself cry out of happiness when thinking of you. The clouds have dispersed, with each passing day you remembered more and said things that would make Lando stop in his tracks.

Lando no longer needed to look for you, because you were already there…

The over-packed luggage bag fell out of your hands at the sweet sight of a white fluffy bed. Lord knows you wasted no time jumping into the bed after kicking your shoes off at the door.

“Ughhh, this is heaven,” your voice was muffled by numerous pillows, but Lando still heard it clearly.

“I’m gonna set up my sim here, okay?” He asked, unsure if you wished for him to leave or stay. After all sleep was what you favoured over anything.

“Yeah it’s no problem, you know I don’t mind you being around,” you lifted your head slightly and shot him a smile.

“You’re the best!” Lando smiled in excitement and in a few minutes the desk area of the hotel bedroom became a sim racing corner.

“cute,” you admired the man only loud enough for yourself to hear.

It felt like only a couple seconds had passed before Lando was once again calling your name.

“Y/nnnn, are you sleeping?” His eyes met your half lidded ones. Gosh you looked cute, all sleepy… and so kissable.

“I am now,” you yawned the words out, eyes not yet fully open.

“Good, you better not be sleeping, I need you to see me win this,” his concentration in the game never faltered even with you on his mind.

“Don’t worry I’m awake,” you yawned once again making Lando chuckle. “You know, you could just wake me up when you finish and tell me the result?”

“Nooo,” he whined, “I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me?” He turned back for a second just to make sure you were behind him.

And you were. You were sitting there wrapped in a blanket, eyes big and oh so soft. You were there with him and that was all he ever needed.

You climbed out of the bed and stood behind him, hands in his hair and a kiss on his temple to which he let out a satisfactory sigh. ”You’re going to win Lan, I know you can.”

“I’ll only win if you’re by my side, love.” He crossed the finish line and turned around kissing you deeply before you could even congratulate him. His hands were quick to hook under your thighs, your warm skin tickling his fingers. He picked you up effortlessly, nestling the both of you into the bed that had already soaked up the scent of your floral perfume. It’s the same one he gifted you on your last birthday.

Your hands tangled around him, pulling him closer until you breathe the same air. His eyes were glossy, pupils dilated to a point where you could barely see the storm of green and blue. Your fingertips draged across his soft skin and to his silky curls. He was everywhere and you hoped it always stayed that way.

You’re still drunk on quality sleep when the morning light pulled you out of the peaceful slumber. Your hands instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed ghosting over the empty mattress, “Lan?”

A pout formed on your lips as you found the bed empty and void of any and all warmth.

Suddenly your eyes shot open but then again closed up, pain of the bright lighting residing in your retina.

You turned to your left side. Empty bedside. No Lando.

You felt yourself swimming in confusion. Your memories mixing with moments unseen before.

Was I dreaming? Dreaming of Lando in my bed? Quite puzzling indeed. 

But what puzzled you most was that you were in Spain, but Lando was not in your bed.

That revelation, for some unknown reason, did not sit well with you.

Overwhelmed you sat up on the bed, trying so hard to understand why for the love of god you were looking for Lando in your bed.

Why would Lando be here? Why was he in my dream? Was it really a dream?

You got off the bed and started looking for any clues that the dream was not actually a dream but reality.

Although the only thing you found is yourself feeling something for Lando Norris you had not felt before.

Dream or reality? This only served to confuse your heart further.

Your eyes caught the clock on the wall, a clear sign that you should hurry as the slender black arrow was about to meet the number seven.

Today was a free day for the grid. That meant that you were to meet Oscar and Lando in the hotel gym and later head for a complimentary breakfast with the two.

Hanging at the gym with them was not as fun as most imagine. Without their active energy being aimed at making jokes it was easy to get bored since you were not in a mood for a workout.

After walking around for a good five minutes you ran into Alonso.

Ever since you first came to formula 1 Fernando fit right into your life, kind of like a father figure at most times and sometimes as an older and much wiser friend.

For that very reason you were now sat at one of the many leather benches talking the older man’s ear off about everything that had been going left instead of turning out right.

“Every day whenever I’m left alone it just gets so annoying, like I truly have nothing to do, but I have nothing I want to do. Like I’m just trying to sit somewhere and relax but it somehow feels too bland,” a heavy sign exited your lungs making Fernando put down his weights and put all of his attention on you now.

“Take them,” he was clutching a plastic earphone box lightly in his left hand, extending it towards you.

“Don’t you need them?” you lifted your eyes out of curiosity but did not dare take them just yet.

Fernando was quick to brush your question off, “Ech, I don’t like these wireless things, I always loose them.”

Your eyes locked on the case. Do I even like listening to music?

“Don’t worry these are unused, I got them from PR this morning,” he let out a chuckle, unnerved by your silence after being surrounded by your voice for so long.

“Are you sure?” you were uncertain but Fernando thrust the case into your hands and ruffled your hair as you smiled up at the man. “Thank you Fernando.”

“It’s all my pleasure sweetheart, it’s about time you started listening to your music again.”

Fernando walked away before you could inquire him about your taste of music, and how he knew so much about it.

There it was again, that uncomfortable feeling. You felt as if you were behind in class, like everyone knew what was going on and which formula to use for a certain problem, but you did not.

Everyone around you seemed to know things about you before you got to discover them yourself and that did nothing but make you uncomfortable in your own skin.

That is where the spiralling set in.

All of a sudden the world shifted off its natural axes and you were no longer there. Your words seemed to get stuck in your head, your movements too slow and every time you tried to pay attention your mind was engulfed in a thick cloud.

It was all messing you up to further close in on yourself.

Lando noticed. Of course Lando noticed. Even if it was only a week, Lando noticed…

There was one thing Lando actually paid attention to and it was you. But once again his great attraction to you was beginning to pain him, little by little scratching at his heart. With each cold shoulder and weak smile he could feel it, he could feel you moving further from him while he was stationary, just a few steps behind you, nonetheless too far than he’d like to be.

Lando’s eyes drifted around the white ceiling of his driver’s room as he tried to trace his steps back and see what might have caused you to stray from him. Was it something he did? If it was he’d better fix it before it became too late. But what could he have done?

You had the date about three weeks ago, that was fine, great even, and he hadn’t had you so happy and respondent in months. Then there was the free week before Spain which he spent with his family while you went to Australia with Oscar, but you texted and called every single day, most days it was you who initiated the calls and reassured him that he was not keeping you from sleep as the two of you were separated by many, many hours.

Then there was the night you landed in Spain. Lando had waited in the airport for hours, wishing he was the one to take you to the hotel and surprise you with your favourite flowers.

He remembered Spain last year. He could never forget, it was your first time at a race as a couple, the relationship still fresh as a wildflower. Lando was hoping for a win, and he felt he could win with you by his side, like he did the night before on the sim, only because you were there watching him with your soft loving and undeniably sleepy eyes…

He expected to jog your memory with the help of the familiar Spanish scenery however it appeared to blow up right in his face the next day.

He picked you up at the airport and you were happy. Right? Yes. You jumped into his arms, you held his hand and even let a tear escape your eye as you held the flowers close to your chest. On the ride to the hotel you talked so much, excitedly telling him about all kinds of aussie adventures you, Oscar and his girlfriend Lilly got up to. He listened all through them with a pearly smile, even if he had heard the stories before from Oscar, asking you questions while knowing the answers to them only because he knew you’d feel cared for and appreciated if he asked. And to end the short but splendid night you kissed goodnight after he walked you to your room. It was meant to be a thank you for his kindness but the real thank you for him where your eyes.

Your eyes were his weakness since day one.

But the next day your eyes were not your eyes anymore… They were not yours ever since.

Was this it? Is this how life is going to be now? He will work and work to get just a bit of you for you to forget it all the next day.

He had heard about such a thing from doctors how some amnesia patients have clear sky days when they become who they were before but even a slight factor can alter that and not an hour later they can forget all that happened before.

Does this mean you will never remember him?

What if you never love him again…

“Lan get up you muppet we have a race starting in 20,” Oscar yanked the older boy awake from his daydream and watched him return to reality. “Everything okay mate?” he observed the tired eyes of his friend.

“Yeah… let’s go.” Lando trained his gaze away from Oscar and left the room first. As much as he needed to talk about you now, he just couldn’t do it, not to Oscar, not again…

Your fingers mindlessly wrapped around your ring pulling it on and off constantly before your skin started burning, but that didn’t stop your behaviour.

Thanks to your mind running faster than an F1 car you’ve figured out a few things this week.

First. You liked Lando Norris. And that’s great.

But dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Now that’s a bit too much.

Second. You liked music. More than you initially thought you did.

Third. You liked cornflowers. The blue ones.

You didn’t know that before. You couldn’t really think of a flower you liked before…

Fourth. You had no idea who you were.

There it was again, that unshakable feeling out of alignment. Like the whole world had tilted and you were no longer on the same axis as before. Was it only a few degrees off but you felt worlds apart from the days before.

Your heart was racing again, lungs refusing to take in the oxygen, though it was all around. It was easy and natural to breathe, something no one needed to think about to control, it just happened and for some reason you were once again stuck unable to control your own self, just as you were unable to calm your pounding head.

You entered the garage where Oscar and Lando stood listening to one of their engineers explaining something to them animatedly. The earbuds in your ears were almost unnoticeable, even with the melodic tune, until you made eye contact with Lando’s clear blues did the familiar tune follow.

But I knew you,

Dancin' in your Levi's,

Drunk under a streetlight,

I knew you.

All of a sudden it hit you quite literally like a truck full of bricks. And the world completely swung off its axis.

The memories spun as a wind whirl in front of your eyes.

It played like a movie.

Your eyes filled with tears before you could turn away and leave the crowded space. Too confused and much too overwhelmed with what you’ve just remembered.

There was Lando, and he was everywhere. He was holding your hands and he was kissing you and he was sleeping in your bed. But you didn’t understand where all of this came from, when just moments ago you were trying to figure out if you even like the man, now you felt such a tremendous pull towards him, it scared you.

Lando had watched your small smile fade into a look of confusion and your eyes filled with tears. Your last look was it. Eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy. Something he had not seen in months now. Your whole face was contoured with memories of you two together. And he could see that, he could see it from your eyes, the eyes that recognised him once more, only they were not glistening with love but with salty tears.

She remembered me. She is crying.

Panic ran Lando’s blood cold. He wanted to chase after you but before he could take one step in your direction a firm hand on his shoulder held him back.

Lando looked at the hand before lifting his eyes to meet the concerned eyes of his teammate, “Lando I know what she means to you, but you have a race starting in 5 minutes. We need to get in those cars.”

“But she’s crying Oscar, something is wrong.” Lando’s voice was demanding and rough, if he needed to push Oscar down to get to you he’d do it, no matter how much the thought of hurting his friend displeased him.

Oscar registered the fiery gaze that made home in Lando’s eyes and he did not want to see what followed but he had no thought of letting him go.

“You have to make a choice Lando. It was never going to be easy.”

As much as it hurt Oscar to say those words to his friend, all he wanted was for you and Lando to be together again.

But Oscar saw you this week. And he saw Lando this week. And neither were sights to marvel at.

You were always an extension of Lando and he poured all he had into the girl he loved. But you were different now, and that was changing Lando, although not always in a right way.

By the end of the day if you did not remember loving him and if their labour proved fruitless Lando would have nothing left. No you, no him. For now Lando at least had F1 and Oscar knew that the only thing he could do is help his friend protect his precious job because he had no call in your mind or feelings.

Only a month ago Oscar felt how everything would work out, but maybe working out meant you two finding your happiness apart and not together. Healing separately and moving on from what had passed. As disturbing as that sounded, it looked like the only solution for both of your wellness.

“Boys, cars, now!” a voice boomed, directing them to take their positions.

Oscar and Lando shared one last glance before Lando pulled his helmet back on and settled into his seat.

It’s gonna be a tough race. Oscar thought.

As expected the race was unlike no other this year, 3 crashes, 5 DNF’s all while Lando drove with the concentration of an eagle, his eyes on the road, but your eyes in his mind.

Lando was rethinking everything, he quite literally had the time, almost two hours before he’s allowed out of this car and can finally see you, he needed to be ready for what was to come in the future… or if there was any future for the two of you left.

What if it is the end?

What if you don’t want him anymore?

A couple of tears travelled down his hot cheek and mixed with his sweat. His eyes were burning, his chest was burning but he pushed and pushed himself unafraid to perform a dangerous over-take with the car in front of him. Mere seconds later a loud cheer echoed through his ear.

“P1 LANDO! YOU ARE THE WINNER LANDO!”

“I won?” He repeated while finishing the cool-down lap, complete disbelief soaking his words.

As soon as he stepped out of the car it was all cheering and flashing lights.

I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me? His own voice resonated through his ears, the memory of your eyes before him.

That was the last thread before he broke down crying next to his car.

Everyone cheered even louder. They thought he was facing the high of his life while he felt like rotting in hell.

He needed you to see him when he won. Now he did win, but you were not watching…

He knew you. He knew you so well. When you told him you’d be there, when you kissed his cheek, when you watched the night sky with him, when you held his hand. He knew you’d come back to him. He knew he’d get to hold your hand again and watch you smile all thanks to his wit.

Only he did not know it would be temporary…

Air got caught in Lando’s throat, it was suffocating being encaged within the helmet.

While Lando stood on the podium accepting his award not once did he look down at the crowd before him. Keeping his eyes on the trophy or the other men sharing the podium with him.

But never down, never to the left corner where from the side of his eye he could see that cluster of bright papaya, never to the very front of that gate, never to where you were supposed to be standing.

Because inside he knew that you were not there, but if he never looked back there then there will be no confirmation, so the theoretical possibility that you might just be there was all he could get and he would hold on to it for dear life.

If he never looked down, he could just let himself imagine that you were there, watching him win…

“See boy, you can’t win everything, but when your time comes, you get all that you want. And Lando, you very well deserve this,” it was Fernando tapping the younger boy on the shoulder, expressing his congratulations.

yeah… I won a race but I lost my love.

Sadness encapsulated his heart and the last thing he wanted now was to pretend to celebrate a long awaited win. Before anyone could get their hands on him he disappeared to his driver’s room.

He opened the door and locked it behind himself. He needed to be alone now.

“Lando,” your soft voice greeted him.

“I knew you,” your eyes were ablaze, “I don’t know how or where it came from, but I knew you and I loved you.” You tried your best to calmly express all feelings that came crashing down on you mere hours ago.

“Loved?” Lando breathed under his nose, he was shattered beyond repair as your declaration made him take in a large gulp of air. Lando could feel himself getting mad. This is so fucking unfair.

“You’re so mean.” He slumped down on the couch, his eyes directed away from you.

“What? Lando I’m trying to-“, you stepped closer to him, instantly regretting that decision.

“AND YOU DON‘T THINK I AM?! I’ve been trying for months now, all alone, while you wanted nothing to do with me. You didn’t even know me, while I had to live around you, still in love with you. It’s so unfair, SO FUCKING UNFAIR ALL OF THIS!”, his hands waved with inner rage. He knew he wasn’t mad at you, it was not your fault, but he was mad at something and he needed to let that out. He needed you to finally know how he felt.

“Lando I am sorry, I-“, you tried to interrupt before Lando completely broke.

“IT’S SO UNFAIR THAT YOU WEREN’T THERE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH ME. SURE YOU DON’T REMEMBER, BUT I DO, I REMEMBER, YOU PROMISED ME YOU’D WATCH ME WIN! AND YOU DIDN’T! YOU LIED!” With each word his voice became louder and louder, he was letting his emotions out for once, tired of holding them in for the sake of everyone else but himself.

“I know Lando! And I did watch you,” you tried to keep your mind levelled and let him let his frustrations out.

“NO, NO YOU DIDN’T, YOU RAN OUT BEFORE THE RACE COULD EVEN START, Y/N I SAW YOU!”

“I. WATCHED. YOU.” You’re the one to raise your voice now, getting close to his face. You needed to show him that you could hear him.

“We were here in Spain a year ago and you were sim racing before the race, you told me to watch you race, because you wanted me to see you win and you did win. But when we woke up the next day I had caught a cold and could not watch you race out on the circuit. You lost and you were crushed. I know Lando. I was there. And I am here now, only this time I was here too, I watched you race and I watched you win.” Your own voice glazed in assertiveness just to make him listen.

Lando’s eyes were in tears, his hands in tight fists unable to understand how something like this could have happened. All of these emotions crashing down on him, he didn’t know what to do, he did not know how to react, he was lost.

Your gentle touch worked to unwrap his tight grip and relax him before placing his palms on your tear stained cheeks.

You’d show him a way, the way you always had.

“I remember Lando. I remember everything. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you. But we can fix this we can work on this together right?” you pleaded with your eyes, attentively searching his own for an answer.

Lando’s first instinct was to pull you into a crushing hug, breathing you in like you were his oxygen.

Lando finally felt at home. It was and always would be your touch, your presence that could ground him.

“You came back to me. I will do everything to keep you close, Y/n,” He whispered into your neck, the hot air tickling your skin making you giggle.

“You came back,” he held you even tighter and your hands were just as firm grasping him.

“I‘ll never leave you again,” you ran your hands through his soaked curls, letting the memories of your life before take over each one of your cells and fill you, “I’m sorry for taking so long my love,”

“Don’t be.” Lando broke the hug so he could look into your eyes again.

Now he saw his true prize. It was your eyes, your rosy cheeks, your glistening lips. You were back and you still loved him,“ I’d always wait for you.”

^^

Tags: @goldsbitch @cmleitora @mickslover @darleneslane @queenofmanydreams @ujws5

[murdrdocs]

masturbation mention; handjobs; college!art; fem!reader; no spoilers MDNI 18+ w/ ART DOANLDSON

when art donaldson gets a boner, it's nearly impossible for it to go down. he's tried everything in the book. well, everything in patrick's book—taking a cold shower, thinking about his grandmother in her underwear, changing his position. but nothing has ever worked, leaving him to excuse himself at inconvenient times so he could fist his cock until he was satisfied.

but being here with you, art can't do that. he's already flaked on your study sessions one too many times and he really, really doesn't want to have to flake again. for a reason as trivial and embarrassing as a boner at that.

he really didn't mean for it to happen. but he just happens to be in your space, surrounded by your trinkets, watching you move around in a pair of shorts that reminded him of the pair tashi wore that night. which got him thinking about the situation he was in just a year ago. which made him imagine you and him in a situation similar, perhaps even with tashi and patrick there.

you're speaking to him. your hands are moving in patterns that art should recognize, and you're lips are moving, too. but he's distant. distracted.

he blinks twice, shaking the overgrown blond curls out of his face as he fixes his gaze on you again.

"'m ... i'm sorry. what were you saying?"

you drop your hands and place them in your lap. you look disappointed.

"dude. i'm really trying to pass this midterm."

art drops his head. he initially does it in an act of shame, but then he notices your hands resting along your glistening skin and he's suddenly made aware of his boner once more. he groans, resting his elbows into the decorative pillow covering his lap as he covers his face with his hands.

"i know, i know. i'm really, really sorry." he sniffs, straightens up, and focuses all of his attention on studying with you. but now it's you who's distracted.

you tilt your head and eye him up and down. art, worrying that you might have fucking x-ray vision or something, adjusts the way he’s sitting. he thinks he's being casual, but then he clears his throat and looks off to the side and he can hear your small 'oh'.

“haven’t tried thinking about your grandmother?”

art, embarrassed at having been caught, says nothing.

“want me to help you out?” you offer. you say it like a joke, so art laughs. but then you don’t laugh, too.

you’re staring at him, a small smile on your lips as you push your weight into your hands behind you. the twin XL bed can only allow so much room, so even as you’re leaning away from him art feels like you’re right there.

“you’re joking, right?”

you take a second, and then you shake your head.

and that’s how art ends up digging his hands into your sheets as he watches your hand glide over his cock through heavy eyes.

you’re sitting with your feet tucked under your butt, one hand scratching through art’s hair and the other working on his cock.

art’s free hand is pressing into the line of skin between your top and shorts.

you’re doing so well, making him feel so good, but you still ask for confirmation through a low voice.

“does this feel good?”

and your face is so much closer to him than he thought. your voice is right next to his ear. it travels down through him, making even more blood rush to his cock if even possible.

art nods, tearing his eyes away from your hand wrapped around his cock to look at you. but you’re already looking at him, your hand pulling on a loose curl of his while you smile. art smiles back, just before you pull him closer and press your lips to his.

kissing distracts you, so art takes over. he shifts his cock up into your hand, doing the work for you. he circles his hand around your back and pulls you closer until he can feel your breasts pushing against his arm through your shirt. whatever bra you’re wearing must be thin, because art can feel your nipples poking him.

he means to warn you. he wants to let you know before it happens. but you regain some of your focus and your thumb presses into his tip, and he’s thinking about how you told him he had a pretty dick, and he can feel your tits and suddenly his hips are lifting and cock is twitching and he’s cumming all over your hand and his thighs.

[wordsarelife]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: mistakes can happen but this one might cost them a record deal, so they definitely needs some help from you

warnings: cursing, unsafe driving, someone gets hurt, let me know if i missed any!

notes: mattheo and enzo are brothers in this story, i just decided hehe. (they both keep their respective name, they’re step brothers, since childhood so they are practically real brothers anyway lol)

let me know if you’ve enjoyed this part :))

"you're so funny, enz" april was laying belly down on your bed, while she was busy giggling into her phone. enzo had asked her if she still had the same number she had in middle school and promptly followed her confirmation with the question if she would be free to call after school.

april had agreed before she remembered that she was going to your place. but, because you were a good friend, you had told her that it was no problem.

now she was laying on your bed talking to enzo, who, you were pretty sure, was at theo's.

you now regreted telling her that it wouldn't be a problem, considering they had been talking for the last hour or so.

you sighed, deeply, before you decided that there was only one way to get your friend back. you took the blog from your desk and scribbled the words down, before you hung it in your window.

as if he had waited for you to write something, theo stood in front of the window and read your message.

do something you had written, featuring at least 7 exclamation marks.

theo looked at you as if you had gone crazy. why should i do anything to help you?

because i bet enzo is just as annoying, isn't he?

theo only spotted a face that made an answer from him unnecessary. he just nodded and walked away.

"oh, already?" you could hear april ask behind you "no, it's fine. i get it, i'll be waiting" and with that she ended the call.

"i'll be waiting?" you asked, with a quirked brow.

"that was embarrassing wasn't it? i should've just said bye like a normal person"

"well, you're not a normal person" you smiled "and i don't think that you could do anything to make him leave you alone at this point"

"you really think so?"

"of course i do, april" you sat down beside her "why did he have to leave so suddenly?" you tried to not sound suspicious, but you were really curious what theo had done to get enzo off his very important call. luckily, april hadn't even noticed what you had been doing.

"band practice" she shrugged "theo is a strict boss"

"i bet" you mumbled while your eyes were still fixated on the piece of paper in his window. why should i do anything to help you? catapulting you right back to the night a year ago. you shuddered at the thought of it and tried to ban it from your head as fast as possible. theo was a constant reminder of your mistakes and maybe it wasn't him you hated but the realization of fault that hit you anytime your eyes fell on him.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

the garage was filled with thick air that had been warmed all day as the sun beamed down tremendously. theo rubbed the sweat off his forehead as he sat his bag down inside.

enzo walked to the couch to open his guitar case. he halted in his motion and the rest of his friends perked up at his lack of movement.

"no, enzo" blaise muttered "not again, come on"

"it did not do it on purpose" enzo turned around to face his friends and theo looked around his body to confirm what he basically already knew.

"where's your head at?" draco's tone matched the annoyance that was bubbling in theo's chest.

"is that a serious question?" matt laughed "it's deep under april's skirt"

"matt" enzo sighed as he rubbed his neck in embarrassment.

"april hart?" blaise asked "the one you've had a crush on since she moved here in first great?" enzo nodded and blaise laughed "that's what i call consistancy, mate"

enzo would've probably laughed if it weren't for the bitter look the bands' leader was still spotting. "are you angry?"

theo sighed. "it's the third time you forgot it, enz"

"i know, i'm sorry, theo" enzo brushed a hand through his hair, before he turned in draco's direction “can i lend your car and get it, please? i won't take long"

"are you kidding me?" draco asked humorless "my mother is gonna kill me if something happens to that car. i'll drive"

"i'll come with ya" mattheo stood up from the couch.

"why don't we just all go?" theo asked sarcastically.

"yeah, why not?" blaise smiled, not catching that theo was just making a joke.

"no, i meant-" the group was already walking out to the car and theo just accepted his fate. "why not" he mumbled before he got in the back seat.

enzo was sitting in the middle of him and blaise, while mattheo had been able to plant his arse on the passenger seat next to draco, who was already setting the car back.

"it's so silent" mattheo mumbled "why don't we listen to some good music" he grabbed a cd from his pocket and just a second after, the loud drums and guitar of blood//water, the first song on cursed legacy's debut album floated through the car.

the boys broke into cheering. "you made a cd?" draco asked smiling, while mattheo nodded proudly.

"old school" enzo grinned, but clapped mattheo's shoulder nonetheless.

"hey" draco said harshly "you stay back there" he pushed enzo back into his seat. "i told you guys to hold him" he looked into the mirror and found theo's eyes, who looked not entirely happy, but did as he was told.

the seatbelt of the middle seat in draco's mums car had been broken for a while. she had originally forbidden them from riding in the car with five people, but draco tended to ignore her rule, even if he normally was quite fussy about anything happening to the car, banning drinks and food completely. but theo's car was still getting fixed by his uncle, so it was their only option.

"while we're on the topic of the band" blaise said "did you call that guy back? the one from the record label?" he asked theo.

theo smiled "i did, yeah. thats what i originally wanted to talk to you all about, but enzo was busy talking to the demon's bestie"

"demon is a rather harsh word" draco muttered.

"aren't you guys a bit too old to upkeep that childish feud?" mattheo asked. "you used to tell her everything and now you're not even saying a word about the record label thing"

"i really thought you guys would go back to normal after everything with leo" enzo added and all heads turned to him.

"i told you not to mention him" theo said angrily and enzo slumped down in his seat.

"it's been a year, mate" draco’s eyes found theo's in the mirror.

"it doesn't matter" theo shook his head, before he abruptly changed the topic. "he wants to see us, as the preact of some band in six weeks"

"the record guy? really?" mattheo perked up "thats like super soon"

"he seemed really excited" theo shrugged "this could be our chance guys. we get that deal and in less than a year we're off to america or tokyo and probably recording our second album, while already writing the third"

"as long as our little shakespeare keeps working that won't be a problem" blaise ruffled theo's hair, his hands letting go of enzo, while theo was busy slapping his friends hands away, hence why he also let go of the younger boy in the middle.

"hey! what did i tell you?" draco full on turned around in his seat.

the next three seconds happened all at once. mattheo was the first who screamed. it had taken draco less than a second of not looking to effectively drive off the street and in the direction of the nearest tree. draco turned around alarmed, swerving the car to the side, luckily not driving frontal into the tree. he stopped the car at the same time, what would've been fine, if blaise and theo had held on to enzo again, or if his seatbelt had simply been working.

he went flying trough the car, mattheo's arm darting to the side, to stop enzo flying through the car's windshield. sadly, his force wasn't enough and enzo still hit the dashboard quite hard, but at least he stayed inside the car.

"ow" enzo cried, holding his arm.

"shit, shit, shit" draco muttered under his breath. "is anyone hurt? are you all fine?" theo could hear his voice break.

"blaise and i are fine" he said quickly, to calm his friend "but enzo.." all eyes turned to enzo who was laying in the middle of the car, between mattheo and draco, who was staring down at him wide-eyed.

mattheo excused himself to call an ambulance.

"this is all my fault" draco brushed a few tears away from his cheeks "i should've just given him the car, or gotten the guitar on my own, i should've never-" he was interrupted by theo.

"it isn't your fault, draco" he assured "blaise and i let go of enzo in the first place, it was our job to keep him safe and we got distracted"

"i shouldn't have screamed at you like that" draco put his head on the steering wheel, trying to hide the stress on his face.

"theo is right, mate" blaise added "it's on us"

it seemed like draco wasn't even hearing him. "i will probably lose my license"

"you won't" enzo muttered through clenched teeth "we'll say there was a deer"

"i'm so sorry, enz" draco excused, it seemed like he only remembered now that enzo was still laying in the middle, holding his arm. "does it hurt badly? i actually don't care about the license, they can take it, as long as you're fine"

"i think my arm is broken" enzo held up his right arm, which was bloody and looked like it wasn't supposed to be formed the way it was right now.

"shit, enz" draco rubbed a hand through his face, before he quickly opened the door and threw up on the floor.

"the ambulence will be here in ten minutes" mattheo said, as he poked his head through the door. "what is he doing?" he wondered once his eyes fell on draco, who was still hanging half out of the car.

"puking" enzo, blaise and theo chorused.

"gross" mattheo shuddered, before he opened the backdoor of the car. "you guys should come outside, so the medical team can assist enzo better. we shouldn't move him"

"yeah" theo nodded, while he pushed blaise out of the car.

“why did i have to come with you again?” you were walking from the parking spot to the entry of the hospital.

“because someone had to drive the car” april pointed to the phone in her hand, which she had used to try and call enzo the entire way here. her hadn’t picked up so she insisted on visiting him, but not without a few different sorts of chocolate (she wasn’t sure which he liked) and flowers.

“yeah i get that, totally” you rolled your eyes, so that she wouldn’t see “but do i really have to come inside?”

“i need moral support”

“you’re not the one who broke his arm”

“enzo might be happy to see more than one friendly face”

“it’s not like he’s laying on his death bed, april” you nudged her arm “i’m sure he comes home today, we could’ve just gone to his house tomorrow”

“i want to see him”

“okay, fine” you groaned, but followed her inside, where she was already leaning half over the receptionists desk.

“how can i help you?” the lady was rather unimpressed by april’s eagerness.

“we’re here to see enzo, ehh lorenzo berkshire” she quickly corrected.

the woman raised her eyebrows, before she started tapping words into her computer.

“pixie?” a voice called and your head turned to the side. you tried many times not to react to the name, but you sometimes couldn’t help it. theo had been consistent for the last ten years so it was in your nature.

“mattheo” you greeted.

the dark haired boy was holding two cups of what looked like coffee. “they belong to me” he told the lady at the reception. “i’m lorenzo’s brother, i came with the ambulance, you remember?” he waited for some kind of confirmation, but she was already busy with something else, easily going back to ignoring you.

mattheo made a gesture for you to follow him down the hall. “pretty unfortunate, heh?” he grinned awkwardly.

“it’s horrible” april declared “i mean how is he supposed to play? he told me something about a record deal that you guys might get”

“yeah” mattheo looked to the ground, before he changed the topic. “he will be so happy to see you” he smiled at april and april mirrored his expression.

mattheo halted in front of a door. “could one of you..?” he trailed off, as he looked down at the cups in his hands.

“oh of course” april said quickly.

“i should maybe stay outside” you held the flowers and the chocolate in april’s direction, who raised her eyebrows.

“are you kidding?” mattheo laughed unimpressed “of course you’re coming inside. enzo will be ecstatic to see you both”

“her? sure, but me?” you asked unsurely “also, theo is probably in there, so i don’t-“

“he will behave himself” mattheo promised “come on, pixie”

you send him a look. mattheo knew about the nickname as long as it existed and he would only call you that sometimes. theo used it to make fun of you, but when mattheo said it, he meant it in a friendly way. you all had grown up together, naturally as you lived so close and in a small town. for mattheo, pixie was not in insult, but the last bit of proof that you had been friends once. after theo and you had fallen out, you had automatically fallen out with all the boys.

sometimes it hurt you to remember. remember how you and mattheo had spent hours listening to sherlock holmes and climbing trees. or how you had helped draco to read as he was having problems, days when you were washing gum out of blaise’s hair and taught enzo to tie his shoelaces. and theo, theo had always been where you were, he was never far. and everything had slipped away in a single night.

but it was too late to make amends. mattheo knew that as good as you. maybe you all could stop fighting, but go back to normal? probably never.

“hey” enzo raised both his arms when he noticed april and you walk in behind mattheo. “ow” he muttered.

blaise and draco were sitting on chairs on either side of enzo’s bed. theo was standing a bit away from the rest of his friends, leaning against the window.

“what is she doing here?” theo stepped forward when his eyes fell on you.

“hey, don’t talk to my guest that way” enzo pushed theo back, so he was leaning against the window again.

“april needed some help carrying all this” you opened your arms, displaying the different sorts of chocolate and flowers.

“how are you feeling?” april asked, slowly touching enzo’s cheek. “does it still hurt?”

you could practically see the flip switch in enzo’s head, as he realized how much she cared.

“a bit” he said dramatically and his voice dropped a whole octave. “but i think i’ll live”

you exchanged a look with mattheo, who raised his eyebrows at his little brothers dramatics.

“how long do you have to wear the cast?” you asked, while you put the chocolate down on the night stand. blaise immediately took one of them.

“hey that’s for me!” enzo protested.

“we need emotional leverage” blaise rolled his eyes, before he unpacked the chocolate and bit a whole piece off. he then held it in draco’s direction, who took it and started nibbling on it like a mouse.

enzo sighed before he looked back at you “between four and twelve weeks”

“shit” april deadpanned “what about the record deal?”

“okay, are you guys really getting one or are all of you in on a bit i don’t know about?” you wondered. there had been a few too many mentions of a possible record deal.

“no” mattheo shook his head smiling “there’s this guy from the label and he wanted to see us at the preact for a band who plays in the concert hall outside the town in six weeks”

“we can forget about that now” draco whined.

“that’s shit” you looked down “i’m sorry, that’s really awful”

“don’t act like you’re not making internal jumps of joy” theo spoke for the first time since you had entered. “you hated the band from the minute we..” he paused and cleared his throat, before he added “continued”

“you really think i’m that big of an asshole?”

“come on, theo” blaise added “don’t be like this now”

“it must be the first point on that little to do list of yours, huh? what do you want to hear? you were right? we’ll never get famous”

“shut up” you shook your head at him.

“stop fucking lying about the way you feel about my band”

“mate” draco tried to push theo back, who was walking closer to you.

april and enzo were exchanging worried glances as they noticed the tears building up in your eyes.

“theo” mattheo stepped next to his friend, laying a hand on his chest, to hopefully calm him down.

“why did you even come here?”

“i’m only here because of april and enzo” you said between clenched teeth “now stop acting like i’m here to laugh about your misery”

“the band could’ve made it big”

“i know” you simply said.

the others were following the discussion between you attentively, turning their heads, like a tennis match, from side to side, whenever one of you spoke.

“my band could’ve made it big”

you looked up at theo with teary eyes, before you nodded, once, finally. then you turned to look at april. “i’ll walk home” you turned to enzo “get well soon, enzo”

“thank you” enzo replied breathless.

you send one last look in theo’s direction, who gulped as he saw the tears flowing over your cheeks, before you left the room.

“what?” theo asked as he turned around and noticed the angry looks of his friends.

“was that really necessary?” mattheo sighed. “she came here because of enzo, knowing well that you would be here. she wanted to wait outside and i convinced and even told her that you would behave this time”

“you really are mentally seven aren’t you?” blaise asked and theo felt bad that he made your visit to enzo all about himself.

“you know how i feel about seeing her”

“how could we not?” draco muttered “you make it clear over and over again”

“it doesn’t matter anyway, the record deal is through and we can just stop being a band now” theo sank to his knees.

april and enzo exchanged a look, before enzo cleared his throat. “technically you just need a stand in for me”

“what?” theo looked up.

“it’s not over, theo” enzo said “you just need to find someone who can play the parts, or at least learn them in six weeks and after my arm is alright i can come back”

“he’s not wrong” blaise nodded “we just need to bag that deal and the rest is not important right now”

“okay, who?” theo deadpanned “you’re incredible on the guitar, who could we possibly find to be just as good?”

“you know that there is someone who was better” enzo looked down in his lap. the rest of the group grew silent too.

“what has that to do with anything?” theo asked defensively.

april turned her head to look at the dark haired boy. “he taught her” she said. “everything”

“what?” theo asked, not believing what he was hearing right now. “what are you saying?”

“we’re saying that you should ask y/n” draco put it simply.

“absolutely not” theo shook his head “i’m sure we can find someone else”

“you just said that there was no one good enough to stand in for me” enzo noted “she might be our best option”

“even if he taught her” theo added “that was over a year ago, who says that she even still plays anymore?”

“she does” april muttered “she’s good, really good”

theo sighed.

“just ask her, mate” mattheo, who had mostly stayed silent, clapped a hand on his best friends shoulder. “we need this record deal”

“i know” theo sighed.

“she’s a slow walker” april pointed to the door and theo raised his eyebrows.

“go!” his friends all chorused when he did not move. he left the room.

“beg her on your knees if you have to!” mattheo called behind theo, before the door fell closed.

“do you really think she’ll help us?”

“i honestly don’t know” april shrugged “but i’m sure theo has to find a way to go even lower than just his knees if he really wants to beg her”

taglist:

@7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555

(i have problems tagging some of you, maybe check your setting and make sure you’ve allowed people to tag you!!)

leave a comment if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist!

[thepixelelf]

Oh Baby, You Part 50 - Cherry

prev « masterlist » next

Idly, you watch the digital, red numbers above the elevator go up one by one. You’ve sometimes wondered if Mingyu hates the chairman’s office, considering its spot on the very top floor, and his genuine fear of heights. Then again, the building is an entirely closed space— he’s more of a bungee jumping scaredy cat than an Empire State Building one. 

You look down at the container of cookies you brought. They’re not his favourite, since you didn’t have all the ingredients for that, but you hope they’ll do. Before Mingyu’s complete integration into chairmanship, you used to bake together all the time. You know he’s better than you, (always has been,) but ever since that time you ended up in a baking summer camp together all those years ago, he’s insisted your cookies are the best.

Of course you know he’s being nice, but that’s just another great thing about Mingyu.

You’re wearing a mask over the lower half of your face, and Jeonghan said there’d be no one around to see you. Still, you walk through the halls with your head lowered and only lift it when you come upon Jeonghan’s desk.

He eyes the container. “You sure about this? I’m not even supposed to be going in there right now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smile he can only see in your eyes. “If he’s truly upset, I’ll just leave him the cookies and go. But I promise I’ll try some other time to get you the vacation days you deserve, okay?”

“It’s really not that important…”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you head towards Mingyu’s office. “Whatever you say, Jeonghan.”

You pull on the thick metal handle of the door without knocking, and as soon as you walk in, Mingyu speaks without moving his eyes from his computer screen. “Not right now, Jeonghan. Just tell whoever needs me to—”

“Hey, stranger.”

His face immediately lights up upon seeing you, and you pull down your mask with a smile. Yeah. There’s your best friend.

“Sunshine!” Mingyu pushes himself to standing and quickly rounds his desk to pull you into a hug. “What are you doing here?” He retracts a bit to look at your face in obvious confusion. “I thought you and Jeonghan agreed we shouldn’t meet up here because of… you know.”

You step back and hold out the plastic container of cookies between you. “About Jeonghan…”

Sighing, Mingyu lets you put them in his hands. “Please tell me this isn’t about the whole ‘vacation’ thing… You know I can’t, Sunshine.”

“Why not?”

“It’s just not how things are done.”

“‘How things are done’? Mingyu, you’re the chairman. If there’s anyone who can change the way things are done, it’s you. Especially for someone who’s spent a good third of your life doing his best to help you.” 

He sets the cookies down behind him and takes one of your hands, letting your joined fingers dangle between you as he leans back onto the edge of his desk. “Look, I’d love to give Jeonghan some time off. I really would, but we’re in the middle of a lot right now—”

“You’re always in the middle of something here.”

“—and,” he continues, countering your little dig with a wry smile, “I as much as I wish I could give everyone here time off, I’d need time to find a suitable person to fill Jeonghan’s position while he’s gone. That’s where the four months come in.”

You tilt your head, trying to summon those eyes that Mingyu would say he can never refuse. The problem is, you’ve never really been in control of whatever expression it is that he sees. “Surely you could find someone in less time than that.”

He chuckles. “I don’t know if you understand how good Jeonghan is at his job.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Mingyu glances at the door, and you turn to it as well, but nothing happens. “Speaking of,” he says quietly, returning your attention to him. “Where is Orion? With Soonyoung?”

“Actually, he’s at a daycare for a—”

“A daycare? Jeonghan didn’t tell me he arranged anything.”

You blink. “Well that would be because he didn’t. I set it—”

“What? Why?”

Pausing for a moment, you make yourself remember that this is exactly the thing you, Mingyu, and Jeonghan are always worried about. Oftentimes, you the most. Having some stranger spend just enough time with Orion to see his resemblance to Mingyu.

“Orion will be preschool age within this next year, so I thought maybe I’d transition to some in-person classes while he attends. The daycare would be for emergencies, or things like weekend exams, or…”

Or when you don’t want to burden your only friends for the rest of Orion’s younger years. 

Mingyu rounds his desk again and bends over in front of his computer. “What’s the name of this place?”

“Dream Daycare. It’s near—”

“You know that was careless, right? You should’ve asked Jeonghan or I to—”

“I looked into it. I went over like six places before—”

“Jeonghan would’ve—”

“He has enough on his plate—”

“—taken care of—”

“Mingyu!” Your raised voice manages to shut him up, but he only meets your eyes for a second before he goes back to his computer screen, investigating the daycare’s website. “I did the research. They had no idea who I was — not that anyone really does, since Jeonghan’s done such a good job keeping me anonymous thus far — and seeing as the place is mostly run by some sweet old ladies, they probably have no idea who you are, either.”

He sighs out through his nose. “Are they good?”

“What?”

“Good caretakers,” he clarifies, and you see the genuine worry in his eyes now.

Of course. You should’ve known that the revelation Orion’s true identity wasn’t Mingyu’s primary concern; his safety is.

Exhaling, you try to give Mingyu a reassuring smile. “Yes, Mingyu. They’re excellent. I only chose the place I thought was the best, safest, and kindest for him. He’s my son, after all.”

It’s small.

It’s so small, so short that you almost don’t see it, hear it. Almost miss it entirely.

But you’re certain that Mingyu… scoffs before he says, “Is he?”

For more than a few seconds, you’re frozen. Just slightly, your mouth parts, but you can’t seem to find the right words. Did you even hear him right?

“What… What is that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head, still scrolling. “Nothing.”

“No,” you rebut. “No, tell me what you meant by that.”

“It’s really nothing.” Straightening himself up, Mingyu fixes you with an uneasy look. You just stand there, cross your arms, and wait for him to cave. It only takes a few seconds. “It’s just, with you telling everyone…”

You let out an affronted sound. “I did not tell everyone. And for that matter, it wasn’t exactly my choice to tell anyone anything at all.”

“Look, forget it. Just pretend I never—”

“But what does any of that have to do with Orion being my son?”

Mingyu takes in a deep breath, his hand coming up to his tie like he wants to wrench it loose, but he only fidgets with it. He looks away, then meets your eyes again. “With this many people knowing he’s not your son—”

“But he is! He is my son, Mingyu. And I am good at taking care of my son.”

It’s too hot in this room. Mingyu’s shoulders rise and fall with another sigh, and for some reason, you can’t stand the look in his eyes.

“I need a breather.” By the time the words come out, you’re already turning and walking towards the door of his office. “Don’t follow me,” you tell him, only because you know your best friend would.

Jeonghan stands up when you shove the door open and storm past his desk, a mix of concern and shock on his face. You must look as upset as you feel.

“I just need a second,” you say, and so he just watches you as you walk off, his mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

You have no clue where you’re going, but you think you had the right idea when you made that excuse to leave Mingyu’s office, so you look around for some sort of outdoor exit. A balcony, or something similar. Eventually, you find a staircase, which leads to what looks like a small terrace of sorts.

Only, when you pull the door open and breath in the cool, fresh air, you turn to the right and see someone leaning against the railing. His distant silhouette isn’t the most familiar, and he’s facing away from you, but considering this place, and the only people you know in it…

“Mr Choi?”

He turns, a white stick poking from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, apologizing for interrupting what must be his precious alone time. Still, you really don’t want to go back inside yet. “I…” Your feet pull you a couple hesitant steps toward him. “...didn’t know you smoked.”

While his eyes focus in recognition, Seungcheol’s hand rises to pull the stick from his mouth. The motion reveals the head of a bright red, spherical lollipop. 

“Oh. That’s…” You want to say out of character, but you trail off. If you think about it, there isn’t much you know about Choi Seungcheol. “Sorry for assuming. I just wasn’t expecting…”

He says nothing for a little bit, just looking at you as you approach. His eyes seem to study you, and you resist the urge to squirm. When you settle next to him, resting your arms on the railing like he is and keeping your gaze on the cityscape, he finally looks away from you and peers at the lollipop instead.

“...I bought them for him,” he says.

You turn your head, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Who?”

“Your son.”

It’s a weird confession, to be sure, but he can’t know the way those two words affect you in that moment. That’s right. Orion is your son.

“But,” Seungcheol continues, unaware of the reason you needed the fresh air in the first place. He lets out a deprecating huff of a laugh, his head dropping for a second before he faces you again. The lollipop gets brought back up, and he taps it twice against his smiling teeth. “I might’ve gotten myself addicted.”

You can’t help it. You laugh.

Turning again to the skyline, your fold your arms on the railing and drop your chin to rest on them with a sigh. What a beautiful day.

Tap, tap.

You look at your elbow, where Seungcheol pokes a wrapped lollipop. Cherry. Your gaze rises to meet his.

“Something’s wrong,” he says simply, holding the candy out closer to you, silent but insistent.

Maybe he isn’t so unaware after all.

Wordlessly, you take the lollipop with a shy nod and a smile.

You don’t know why, but as soon as you close your mouth around the sweet, artificial cherry flavoured candy, the tears start to form. You hate that it’s now, with one of the very dangerous people to be vulnerable in front of, but you can’t seem to stop the blazing heat in the corners of your eyes. You don’t sob — don’t let yourself — but the tears fall despite your resolve.

It’s irrational, you understand, to be this upset. But it’s hard to believe yourself to be a good parent when you start doubting whether you’re a parent at all.

“Would you…” Seungcheol’s wary voice returns your attention to him. “...like to leave?”

You let out a laugh, embarrassed. He must be uncomfortable. “I probably should.”

As you push yourself off the railing, though, Seungcheol does the same. “Alright,” he says, then takes your hand, and you realize as he leads you back inside and through the building all the way to the ground floor: he’s not wary of you, but for you. “Let’s go, then. Somewhere nicer.”

For some unknown reason, you just swallow down all your trepidation, gently take your hand back, say, “Okay.”

And follow.

prev « masterlist » next

oby tagging 1, 50/50: @shiningstar-byulxx @shuabby-woowoo @90s-belladonna @xavi-in-kpopland @xmessaroundx @chwevernonlover @kwanisms @dalamjisung @crazywittysassy @butterfliesinthenightsky @ddaengpotate @vanishingboots @potatofrieswithketchup @minhwa @oncecaratorbit @royal9 @doodlelibrary @yksthings @amosmortese @jaeskz @woozarts @my-chaos-in-stars @yoonychoik @ksywoo @kellesvt @candidupped @sharkipoonis @wooahaeproductions @hellodefthings @winterwallacehenderson @jvhoons @woo8hao @sxftiell @thewooziverse @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @nonononranghaee

[the-witheredroses]

Pt. 2

TW: angst/comfort, reader cries a little and is mentioned to have been in therapy

<< Previous | Next>>

The silence was agonizing. The air felt drowning and heavy. It didn’t help that no one could look at each other.

Soap and you have migrated to the couch after realizing that the conversation probably should be had while sitting.

How are any of you meant to address any of this?

Each of you knew just enough to fill in the blanks, but how is-

“So…” Johnny broke the silence and your train of thought. “How do you all know each other?”

“Really, Soap? That’s how you want to start this?” Gaz remarked, letting his grievance show.

“Aye! How else ye expect this to go?! How ye think I feel knowin’ ye’ve shagged my lass?”

“Jesus Christ…” you groan as you hide behind your hands.

“Not everyone-“ Simon murmured leaning back in with his arms crossed.

“Simon!” You exclaim, revealing your warmed cheeks to everyone.

“Well with the way ye look at ‘er I would’ve guessed otherwise-“

“Okay- no, that’s it-“ you stand in front of them all, pointing as you addressed each. “You- Simon, are meant to be dead, I went to your funeral. Fucks sake, I visit those graves everytime I drive past them!”

Simon couldn’t stand to defend himself, because he knew that already. He’d seen you talking to his and his family’s graves every now and then when he went to see them himself. It had torn him apart to not reveal he was alive, but he’d convinced himself it was for your sake. Even if that meant you’d shed more tears.

“You pushed me away for months before ultimately saying that you needed to move for work, that you couldn’t be with me anymore-“ your eyes still held the hurt from long ago as you gazed at Kyle.

“It wasn’t a complete lie…” Kyle scratched at his head, his poor attempt to redeem himself falling flat.

“Shut it, Garrick. You-“ your finger landed on Price, “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? I assume you’ve been back for a while, so why didn’t you say anything?”

John knew he had no excuse, so he didn’t attempt to deny his reasoning. “Though’ ye might’ve been with yer other man…”

A hefty exhale escapes you as you hold back from saying more. You could slap him, because how, after all this time, does he not see himself as enough? Instead, your gaze landed on Johnny.

“And you, Johnny, you didn’t really do anything, but still, this could’ve never happened if you or John just told me who else was on the team.”

“Or told us who ye were dating.” Kyle muttering was directed to Johnny, but it earned side eye from you.

“Moral of the story,” you continued, “all of you have been keeping things from me. And now we’re here… and I don’t know what to do or say…” your voice broke a little from the festering emotions. Everyone was quick to their feet to comfort you, John worming his way to the front.

“Aye, lass, there’s no need to cry. We just need to talk this out.” John’s hands cupped your cheeks as the tears threatened to spill. “Maybe we should take a break, take a breather. Later, we can talk one on one with you and each other.”

You nod as you try to calm yourself, doing the short breathing exercises you learned from therapy.

John placed a soft kiss to your forehead before being pushed aside by Johnny. His arms quickly envelop you and he kisses your temple.

“Common lass, let’s get ye out of here for a bit…” Johnny whispered and pulled you into the bedroom, leaving the other men standing in a circle, stuck their own thoughts…

————

Idk what to call this series so feel free to leave some suggestions!

Also didn’t want to make this series too angsty, but reader is definitely gonna need some one-on-one time with each of the boys…

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Hey! Not sure if you do requests, sorry if you don’t! If you want to, could you do a story where a supervillain typically goes easy on a group of rookie heroes, as he usually fights them just for fun, and could destroy them if he wanted.

He just lets them think they can beat him.

Then, something happens (maybe they cross a line, and one of the heroes tries to stop their team from crossing that line but they don't listen) where the supervillain shows them just how powerful he actually is?:

Ask anonymously

Hi there Annablogsposts! I do requests, I’m just typically really slow getting to them, lol. I’d love to write this for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

Hero entered the meeting room, where Leader and the rest of their team were already talking.

“So we’re in agreement, then?” Leader asked.

Teammate One nodded.

“If we take Henchman, we can interrogate them and learn more about Supervillain’s plans than we ever could through just reconnaissance.”

“Woah woah woah,” Hero said, “are we talking kidnapping?”

“Uh, yeah?” Teammate Two said, quirking an eyebrow.

Hero shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

“But isn’t kidnapping, I don’t know, wrong? I mean, Henchman doesn’t even have powers- they’re not even in the field most of the time. Why would we-”

Leader folded their arms across their chest.

“Hero, do you want to stop Supervillain or not? Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now, Teammate One is going to be look-out, while you-”

“No,” Hero said.

Leader blinked.

“No?”

“No,” Hero repeated, “I’m sorry, but I can’t be a part of something that goes against my morals, not to mention what we stand for. None of us should even be talking about this, let alone actually going through with it!”

Hero didn’t wait for Leader’s response. They turned and left the meeting room, only stopping when they got back to their own room.

…

Hero jolted awake, stirred by the sounds of a struggle. They checked the clock. Three in the morning. Their team must have gone through with it after all.

Hero crept into the room that had been set up as a holding cell. They peeked in and saw Henchman, battered and bloody, breathing hard. Hero’s eyes widened. Their own team did this!?

Hero unlocked the door and knelt by the criminal. Their eyes were glassy and dilated. Drugged. It wasn’t even a fair fight.

“I’m gonna help you,” Hero whispered.

“Hero?” Henchman croaked dazedly.

Hero had already left, bolting to the med bay to get supplies. They rushed back into the cell and got to work.

“This is more Teammate Two’s thing, but I’m gonna try my best,” Hero said quietly.

The room was silent, save for the occasional whimper from Henchman. When Hero finished, they had stitched up the deeper wounds and bandaged the more shallow ones.

Hero opened their mouth to ask a question when the far wall exploded into tiny bits. Supervillain stood there, a dark look on their face.

“Henchman?” Supervillain called.

“In here!” Henchman slurred.

Supervillain rushed to their right hand’s side.

“Who did it? One of them, or all of them?” Supervillain asked.

“A-all but this one,” Henchman said, nodding to Hero.

Supervillain looked up at Hero. Their eyes drifted to the medical supplies, and Hero’s bloodied hands.

“Not one for breaking the rules, hm?” Supervillain asked.

Hero sat frozen in shock. Supervillain had never been able to take out a wall like that before. Supervillain had always had minimal powers. How did they do this?

“Hero, wait for me outside,” Supervillain said, “and take Henchman with you.”

Hero opened their mouth, but no sound came out.

“Come on,” Henchman said, struggling to get up.

That spurred Hero into action. They helped Henchman up, and took them outside, stepping over bits of rubble and letting Henchman put their weight on them for support.

Hero turned.

“What are you gonna do?” they asked timidly.

Supervillain adjusted their gloves, their fingers curling into fists.

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

…

Hero waited outside until they heard the screaming. Those were their team’s voices. They laid Henchman down, leaning them up against a tree.

“I need to go help them,” Hero said, “stay here.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Henchman grunted, pulling something from a concealed pocket in their boot.

Hero barely had time to question what it was before the object was slammed into their thigh.

“Sorry, kid,” Henchman said, “but you don’t need to get hurt on account of them.”

Hero’s world spun. They stumbled, falling to the ground right next to Henchman. Henchman positioned them against their chest, so they’d be more comfortable. Hero drifted off a moment later.

…

Supervillain dusted themselves off, stepping over the mess of unconscious bodies strewn about the room. They approached Henchman, taking note of Hero, fast asleep.

“They tried to run in?” Supervillain asked knowingly.

Henchman shrugged, nodding.

“Poor thing,” Supervillain sighed, “we’ll sort them out. They deserve better.”

Supervillain picked both Henchman and Hero up with ease, as though they were little more than a few feathers. They flew off, back to their base. The rest of the team would wake up so see themselves and their compound in shambles. Hero, on the other hand, would wake up in a lavish bedroom. It pays to not anger the most powerful Supervillain in the world.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[pavosnoctua]

Hello~~~ Can I request for delusional! Darling reader x Yandere!Diluc? Pretty please?

Just two crazy people i'm love ♥️♥️ something like...

-Diluc forces darling!reader to marry him and instead of being scared darling! Reader goes like "He must love me very much, that's nice" (Reader basically accepts him as a Yandere)

I NEED INSANE CRAZY FLUFF BUT A LITTLE (very) TWISTED

HI ANON i hope this satisifies!

cw: mdni, minors dni, yandere, unhealthy behaviors, obsessive behaviors, unhealthy relationship, forced marriage, some offscreen but mentions of gaslighting. afab reader. mentions of isolation.

"This isn't love," your friend tells you as she stands behind you, threading her fingers through your long hair. You frown at her through the mirror, your relationship with the Diluc Ragnvindr has been a point of contention between the two of you for a very long time. But she also stuck by you, no matter your attempts to gently push her out at the behest of your beloved. "You were crying a few weeks ago that you didn't want to get married, that it was too soon. And now, look at you, excited for your wedding that's today."

You wrinkle your nose. Diluc is right about her. She talks too much, tries to control your life.

"It has to be love," you refute with a frown. "I love him as much as he loves me. Why else would we be getting married?"

Your friend doesn't respond as she quietly works to put your hair up in a bun, as part of your wedding ensembled that he'd dictated.

"He isn't that bad of a man," you go onto explain to him. "He's helped me through some awful times, remember? Took me in, gave me a job...I love him, so please, accept that."

In all honestly, you're about as obsessed with him as he is with you - you cannot get him out of your mind, you willingly moved in with him when he asked you to, your friends slowly tapered out of your life because, "anyone could be dangerous, my flame. You need to be careful." and you agreed. Because you love him. And he knows more about the world than you do. Right?

Any woman he'd talk to, you'd glare at - outside of Jean and Lisa, you liked them. They were trustworthy, and while you know your beloved soon to be husband would never cheat on you, you were always worried they could do something more nefarious. Being able to go outside became a luxury, something you needed to gain permission for but it's all because he loves you.

When Diluc had told you that the two of you had to get married - there really is no other option, but never explaining why outside the idea of, it's for your own safety. and "We live together, so why not take it a step further?" He'd already signed the papers so you wouldn't have to worry yourself over all the bureaucracy of it all, the ceremony needs to happen and you can have fun planning it all. You felt as if there was something in life closing on you, but you didn't know what...

You hesitated - you did cry to your friend about it for awhile but you got upset when she told you that he was strange, it was strange that he'd just forge your signature like that and not even give you a chance to say no. It's sweet, you had argued. He loves me.

You're getting to marry the Diluc Ragvindr, who only does the things he does because he loves you just as much as you love him. He wouldn't do awful things intentionally, this is just how he is.

Once you are dressed, it is like you are in a fairytale - your wedding is everything you dreamed and more. Your friend still dislikes this idea but you softly tell her that's just who he is, don't worry about it.

When Diluc sees you, all your fears and worries disappear when he smiles at you.

You may be stepping into a gilded cage, but it's a beautiful one, and it's all because he loves you so much and it would break his heart if he lost you.

[debonairprincesposts]

Absolutely loved your Lucifer x Son reader!! Can we get a part 2? Im eager to see how Charlie and the gang may react!

Hello Anon! Here’s my take on what would’ve happened in the aftermath. As requested. Wasn’t really planning on making more content relating to this Au, but here we are! This is the last one, I hope. The gang haven’t met (Name) so they won’t be included in this.

Enjoy (。•̀ᴗ-)✧

Lucifer was basically contemplating every bad decision he's ever made in his life as he stares at the face of his unconscious son.

He barely managed to save (Name)’s wing by reattaching it, but it'll take a while before it's usable again.

Coat and hat off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair disheveled from running his fingers through it in his moment of stress.

Eyes rimmed red from crying, cheeks stained with tears as he rubbed his eyes to get rid of the heavy feeling you usually get from crying so much.

He practically started having a mental breakdown the moment he knew that (Name)’s life wasn’t in any immediate danger. It wasn’t until a few minutes ago that he finally calmed down.

Sitting on a chair next to his son's bed, Lucifer sighs as he puts his face in his hands. He hasn't told Charlie yet. He doesn't really know how he should go about explaining what happened at the palace without freaking her out.

Wounds inflicted by angelic steel take longer to heal. He doesn’t know how long it would take for (Name) to wake up. It’s been about 3 hours since the attack, and he’s been restless ever since.

Still no sign of movement from (Name) as he lays motionless on his bed. The only way Lucifer could tell that he’s even still alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Running his fingers through his hair as he stood up from his chair, reaching for his phone in his pocket, he hesitated to call Charlie. He didn’t know how to disclose the situation to her. There’s no easy way of doing this. I mean- how do you go about telling your child that her brother could possibly end up in a coma after being attacked by bloodthirsty psycho angels! That’s ridiculous! Everything about this is ridiculous! He’s ridiculous! He’s literally the King of Hell! He should’ve done more to ensure the protection of his son! If he just had the time to construct a barrier around his home then maybe this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. If he hadn’t been in a hurry to go save Charlie, he would’ve given it more thought. The fact that (Name) would be left defenseless all by himself with no one to help him. It’s basically a miracle that he even managed to survive all by himself. What with his inexperience in life or death fights. What kind of father would he be if he can’t even protect his children from harm! An incompetent one, he thinks.

His hands shake as he grips his phone. Taking a deep breath, he presses on Charlie’s contact and hopes that everything goes well.

“Dad! Thank goodness you’re okay! I’ve been trying to call you ever since you left in a hurry earlier- Is everything alright?” Just hearing Charlie’s voice over the phone makes him want to cry again.

He swallows the lump in his throat, “I-I’m okay, sweetie! It’s just- uhh,” just say it dammit! That’s her brother! She needs to know! “It’s (Name). He- he’s not doing good at the moment.” He cringes at his attempt.

“What?! Is he okay?! What happened?”

“He-,” his throat felt dry as he swallowed, “the palace was attacked.”

“WHAT?! Is (Name) okay?!” Her panicked voice could be heard over the phone. He tried to breathe properly to not breakout into another panic attack. “Dad?! Why aren’t you saying anything?!! You’re scaring me!”

“He’s-,” he winces at the break in his voice before clearing his throat, “He’s okay now! I managed to get here on time before he-,” his voice cracked again as tears wells up in his eyes.

The other side of the line goes silent for a bit. Charlie most definitely heard his pathetic attempt at trying to compose himself.

He clears his throat again, “His wounds are healing. But I don’t know when he’ll wake up.” He settled with. His voice raspy from crying.

On the other side of the line, Vaggie was standing next to Charlie, comforting her as she processes the information she just received. It was just them two in the lobby. Everybody else was either out or resting in their new rooms.

“Do you need me to come over, Dad?” Charlie asks.

“No need for that, apple pie- I’ll stay here until he recovers. You need to stay at your hotel. I can handle it. Promise.”

“Okay,” she swallows, forcing back her tears, “Call me if you need to. Okay, Dad?”

“Of course. Goodbye, sweetie.”

“Bye-,” he hangs up.

“Everything okay, babe?” Asks Vaggie, “You seem pretty worried.”

“Worried? Me? Pshh- no! Not at all! I mean- it’s not like the angels attacked my Dad’s castle and put my brother in a coma!-,” Charlie rambles.

“What?!” Vaggie yells in shock, “Is he okay?”

“Dad said that he’s okay. (Name)’s just resting-,” Charlie starts pulling at her hair. “Why would they attack him! He didn’t have anything to do with any of this!”

Vaggie doesn’t say anything. She just takes Charlie by the hand and takes her to their room as Charlie continues to worry about her brother. Which is valid cuz like- (Name)’s her brother-

When they reach their room, Vaggie takes Charlie by the hand and leads to bed.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay. He’s got your father’s blood flowing through his veins, no? He’ll wake up before you know it- Trust me.”

Charlie sniffles, “You really think so?”

Vaggie nods, “I know so. Now- why don’t we rest and cuddle. We’ve had a long day. I think we deserve some rest, don’t you think?”

Vaggie then helps Charlie change into pajamas as they both lay in each other’s arms in bed.

“Feeling better?” Vaggie asks.

Charlie nods, “I just hope he wakes up soon.” As they both continue cuddling in bed.

Imma be honest y’all. This isn’t my best work. Didn’t come out as well as I’d hoped. Kinda lost motivation half way through. Not sure if you can tell. But anyway! Here’s how I thought it would go. Hope y’all like it! Stay healthy and keep hydrated! ∠(��� 」∠)

Bye babes!

-DebonairPrince

Help support your favorite author by buying them a ko-fi!

[transmascaraa]

hi its 🍓 anon, can I request comfort with Gaming, Bennett, Scaramouche, Cyno, and Tighnari?

I accidentally hurt my cat's leg maybe like 20 minutes ago from when this is in your inbox but I've honestly just been crying and curling up on the ground where she's laying underneath my desk. I feel awful even though it's an accident ☹️

I'm hoping she's okay and it's not bad but I'm scared I permanently gave her a limp or that she will hate me and no longer want to be around me anymore

multiple characters headcannons!

you accidentally hurt your pet.

characters: gaming, bennett, wanderer, cyno, tighnari x gn!reader

author's note: hi 🍓anon i'm sorry i'm doing this req so late but writer's block is there for some reason🤷‍♂️ I HOPE YOUR CAT IS OKAY NOW THO AND THAT SHE STILL LOVES YOU IK HOW IT IS😭 anyways i decided to write this cuz i was bored lmfao enjoyyyy🔥🔥

♡ Gaming

-definetly gets worried after he sees you on the ground crying like that.

-"no... my love, what's wrong? you can talk to me, okay?"

-all while the pet was in the corner of the room, unphased.

-if left the room soon enough, but that was unnoticed by gaming.

-after you did your best at explaining the situation to him, he understood what you meant.

-a bit confused as to why were you thag worried about it, but he reassured you that your pet was fine and that they most probably forgive you.

-he's going to cuddle the pet with you to help you "apologize" to it.

-with gaming there, your pet will forget about what happened and just cuddle with the two of you there like nothing ever happened<3

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

⑅ Bennett

-now, he's hurt a fair share of animals in his life due to his unluckiness.

-and he always feels really bad for them afterwards, so he would understand after you vent to him about it.

-"hmm... yeah... i get it.."

-but him, knowing that you're not as unlucky as he is, he reassures you that your pet is okay and still loves you.

-he'll prove it to you too.

-but first he would first make you take your mind off of it for a bit.

-and then feed the pet together as some parents to their 3yo child.

-now, speaking of him proving it to you, he'll just let you pet it and let it slowly lean into your gentle caressing of it.

-the only time he was lucky in his life was when he got to be with you.

-you just looked to precious being happy that your pet has forgiven you.

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

✧ Wanderer

-he just doesn't get it.

-why the hell are you rolling on the floor, crying, because you THINK you hurt your pet?

-"but are you sure you've actually hurt it? y'know, if you actually did, then its anger is justified-"

-until you started crying more.

-"b-but you probably didn't. so don't worry. you'll be fine, just like that like creature you call your pet."

-i mean you stopped crying so it was something????

-you'll have to beg him to cuddle you w your pet but eventually you'll convince him.

-the funny part was the fact that the pet was just more fond of wanderer, rather than you, despite forgiving you for anything and everything.

-for some unknown reasons, all animals like him, really.

-(if your pet is an aranara in some type of this teyvat au then it's even cuter)

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

๑ Cyno

-he doesn't react much, really.

-not like alhaitham, but just more of his canon personality when he's not making dad jokes.

-i mean if anything, he's confused, but yeah.

-he just stares you on the floor.

-"what happened?"

-in the most monotone voice ever.

-and then after he understands why you're doing all of that, he shows a bit more of emotion.

-hardly spotted, but it's there.

-"well... i know something that can improve your mood. what do you call a-"

-you just give him a death stare. he doesn't continue speaking from there.

-afterwards, you'll feel the little cutie together and see that it's totally fine!

-you will get to hear the joke he was meaning to say sometime later, now he just doesn't wanna irritate you, he feels as if you need happiness now, not his dumb dad jokes.

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

✿⁠ Tighnari

-he genuinely gets worried.

-but worried in a mom way.

-"you're crying because of something you THINK? are you hearing yourself right now?"

-he's sassy, even when genuinely concerned.

-now, after telling you to take a few deep breaths, calm down, and drink a glass of water, he sits you down and lets you explain everything in great detail.

-then he brings the pet to the both of you, while he checks the pet for any scars, but they fortunately aren't there!

-you get incredibly happy and hug both tighnari and the pet, but he still doesn't understand if ut was worth the crying on the floor.

-your pet literally still loved you.

-but at least he was happy to help.

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

okay i think this wasn't that bad

i really like cyno's and tighnari's tho

but this was fun to write overall tbh lol

| 🍓anon | @mariaace <3

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

**Tag List**

@deandoesthingstome @cakesandtom @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25

@kebabgirl67 @thabiddie23 @sweetandgentlecreature @foxyjwls007 @art2emily

@titty-teetee @princessaxoxo @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102

@toooldforobsessions @carrie80reads @mayloma @mollymal @posiemax

@identity2212 @alwayzmsbehavn @cardierreh15

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁If your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you. For some reason, I could tag everyone this time....if you are tagged, but were not notified, please let me know.

[sciderman]

I sorta do remember an ask, where it is implied that Wade and Peter are open to let other participate into the "fun" bed activities, but I can't find it.

If Cable is gonna be one of them, is Johnny also gonna be one of the luckiest?

nate being a third is something joked around a few times ! it's not something peter and wade have explicitly discussed on the blog thus far, but it is something hanging in the air ominously.

wade's thought about it.

peter's thought about it.

and it's just something that kind of constantly bubbles up from the depths of their subconsciouses

i think they're both game for a third, even if they're too shy to pop the question - i think peter, specifically, has initial reservations but could so, so easily be talked into it, with very little effort at all from wade's side whatsoever.

a simple "don't tell me you haven't thought about it" and peter almost immediately admits defeat. because he has thought about it.

nate is kind of the natural first choice, really. wade has him on speed dial. and i think - oddly, the mystery might help with the situation - i think peter would be nervous out of his mind if it were with someone he knew intimately. but nathan is almost a stranger to him. so maybe it's easier. a good way for him to test the waters. and wade trusts nathan to a supernatural degree. and i think that would give peter comfort, too.

as for johnny - it's kind of a little complicated. we know peter is attracted to johnny. we know that. wade knows that.

wades attracted to johnny too. i've written a fic that takes place in the future of 9319 - where johnny and peter finally talk about what's hanging in the air between them. and wade encourages them, because wade really wants peter to embrace his truths. and it might lead up to peter and johnny exploring that more, together but - fact is, i don't think johnny is romantically or sexually interested in wade at all. i don't know, for some reason i just don't see it.

i'd like to see it. i've even started writing it, and it works, it works - it's a really funny dynamic, but...

buuuut... i don't know. i still don't think johnny is interested in wade in that way. what he and peter have is – you know, i don't know, it's special. i think johnny wouldn't exactly want to be a third. it might be just a thing between him and peter, maybe. if that happens. and that's okay, because while peter and johnny have their fun, wade and nate can go at it, sure. wade might be a little bummed, but he gets it. he's just happy peter's living his best life.

i do remember AGES ago (back when everyone hated johnny storm) i wanted to do a stupid reveal that johnny was a third in their bed simply for the fact that it would make people mad. i knew people would get mad about it. but now people love johnny and they wouldn't get mad about it and i don't do anything unless it makes people just a little bit mad. i can't give people what they want, there has to be a catch.

[tiredfox64]

Hi I’m requesting on behalf of my friend ( thier too shy to even send anonymously) a couple of days ago a boy pulled off her Hijab and ran off with. This obviously sacred and upset her do could you do a comfort fic for her? Where this situation happens to Kung Lao, smoke and kuai liang’s s/o? If you don’t feel comfortable writing this that is fine. Thank you!

Show Her Respect!

Prior notes: I acted quickly when I saw the request. I can’t believe there are people out there that still do that kind of stuff. I hope I can make her feel better.

Pairings: Kung Lao, Tomas, Kuai Liang x Hijabi! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Hijabs will be pulled but the perpetrators will be beat

Kung Lao

The sun shined bright on the Fengjian village. Kung Lao found it would be the perfect opportunity to show you around and maybe even show you the flowers that are blooming.

Throughout the day you two ran around the village and said hi to the locals. You even got to say hi to Raiden who was out training. Kung Lao should have been training as well but you know how he is. He thinks he’s already perfect enough. Plus, he wanted to have all his attention on you today.

You got to see many the flowers that bloomed from this season. The azaleas, begonias, magnolias, lilies, and Kung Lao’s favorite, the cherry blossoms. He liked to blow the petals towards you which made you laugh. What a charmer.

Now how else can you end off a perfect day than having a nice dinner that Madame Bo made. I just hope you can handle watching Kung Lao shove food into his mouth. You don’t know how he can keep his lean figure while eating plates upon plates full of food.

Unfortunately there are some in this world who are closed minded. It appears that the sight of you having a nice dinner with Kung Lao didn’t sit right with them. It caused them to make a foolish decision.

A man casually walked up behind your chair as you were in deep conversation with Kung Lao. Suddenly you felt something yank hard at your head. You immediately knew what happened. You screamed not just because your hijab was pulled off but because they yanked so hard it hurt you.

Immediately Kung Lao averted his eyes. He had to think quickly on he had to handle this. An impulsive decision was made and he handed you his trusty razor-rimmed hat.

“Here, use it to hide your head for now.” He said while still looking away.

You grabbed his hat carefully so the razors didn’t cut your fingers. You hid yourself to the best of your abilities. Once you did Kung Lao jumped out of his chair and started bolting for the guy who snatched your hijab. His feet were moving fast to the point many could hear fast tapping against wooden floors.

By the time the guy turned around to see what was coming towards him he felt the pressure of a hard kick to his ribs. Kung Lao dropped kick the man with as much force as he could. If he would have kicked any harder there would have been rib cage pieces floating around in the guy’s body. The kick was still hard enough to send the guy flying into some tables. Kung Lao stood over the man and grabbed his wrist.

“If even a strand of her headscarf is tampered with, you will regret ever crossing me.” His voice conveyed how serious this was.

He looked down at the man with this anger that suggested he would kill him. Now isn’t the time since he has to get your hijab back to you.

Kung Lao came running back with the hijab in his hands. Thankfully there were a group of waitresses who saw the situation and made a circle around you. He handed your hijab over to one of the waitresses so she could pass it back to you.

They were all willing to help you, even Madame Bo who came with a new safety pin since the one you had before was bent from the harsh yank. She helped make sure everything was hidden and that your hijab was all neat. Once you were all good the waitresses allowed Kung Lao to come to you. The moment you saw him you ran into his arms with a few tears slipping down your face.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” You thanked him as you hugged him tight.

“Of course. How could I let some lowlife do such a thing to my girl.” He hugged you back, rubbing your back to soothe you.

He turned his neck a little to look at the guy he just put down. He was making sure he stayed in place but Madame Bo had that taken care of. Kung Lao could see the old woman beat and kick the guy even more, yelling at him for snatching your hijab and messing up the tables. She showed that man no mercy and Kung Lao was grateful for that. Once she was done she had the waitresses throw the guy out and told him he is forever banned from the tea house. Kung Lao thought now would be the time to ask for something that would make you feel better.

“Madame Bo, would you mind if we get more tea and maybe some more-“

“I know, Kung Lao, more of her favorite dish. I’ll have it here soon. And this time it’s on the house.” Madame Bo was already making her way back to the kitchen.

Kung Lao managed to calm you down, telling you he won’t ever let you get hurt and that he will always protect you. He held you close for the rest of the dinner as your worries wore off from eating your favorite dish.

You don’t care what anyone had to say about Kung Lao. He is your hero. He is kind, brave, understanding, and one heck of a fighter. And the best part. He is yours and you are his. You couldn’t have asked for a better man

Tomas

Your visits to the Lin Kuei are always welcomed by the one and only Smoke. But for you, you can call him Tomas.

Your existence is his light. In a whirlpool of fighting, protecting himself from Bi-Han, helping to train others, and dealing with the harsh weather of Arctika, you are the hand that reached out to save him. Whenever you visit he is reminded that there is much more than the life he has in the Lin Kuei.

Immediately once you stepped into the temple he came at you with a hug. Gosh he gives out the best hugs. You hugged him back with as much strength as you could muster but even with that you were no match for him. You two laughed at your attempt.

You two started to make your way to his room. You got the chance to say hi to Kuai Liang and even Bi-Han, though all he gave you was a low grumble. He’s funny like that. And of course out of courtesy you said hi to some of the Lin Kuei. But there was one who just had to be a prick.

For some odd reason one of the clansmen didn’t like you. There was no reason, he just didn’t. There are unfortunately some people in this world who are like that. A hatred that festers and they act upon it. And this one did.

You two were so close to his bedroom before you felt a hand grab at the back of your head. You felt your headscarf slip off your head by force. You gasped as your hands went up to cover your head. Tomas looked away while trying to cover your head as well with his hands. He rushed you to his room and ushered you in before closing it shut.

Tomas snapped his head forward to look at the man, no, no man would do such an act. This is a mere boy. He looked at him holding your hijab in his hands. He tried to make a run for it as if he had anywhere to escape. Tomas chucked a smoke bomb hard in his direction which detonated on impact. It left the boy coughing and wheezing. That gave Tomas enough time to use his smoke magic to sneak up on him and pummel him to the ground. He mindlessly attacked him but not to the point he was in critical conditions. No, he wanted him to stay conscious to feel the point of Tomas’ karambit poking at his chin. When the smoke cleared up the boy was staring up at Tomas with fear. He knew it wasn’t worth it and let go of your hijab. Tomas got off him, keeping an eye on him as he took your headscarf back. All the ruckus alerted Bi-Han and the others and they came running to see what happened.

“What is the meaning of this, Tomas?” Bi-Han growled.

“This person is dishonorable in every way. He is unworthy to be in the Lin Kuei. He is unworthy in every single way. He should know better than to harass someone who has done nothing wrong.” Tomas still stared down at the boy with fury.

Bi-Han saw your hijab in his adopted brother’s hands. He put two and two together and figured out the situation. For once he agreed with Tomas’ actions. He grabbed the lowlife by the back of their uniform and started to walk towards the exit. He threw the person out with no mercy before yelling,

“You are hereby banished from the Lin Kuei!”

Tomas quickly went back to you. He knocked on the door and when you cracked open the door a little he handed you your hijab. It took you a bit to put it back on but once you did you cracked open the door again to let him know he can come in.

He ran in, shut the door, and brought you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. Please tell me you’re okay. Forgive the Lin Kuei this is not the way we are.” He apologized and begged for your forgiveness as if it was his fault.

“Tomas, you did nothing wrong. I know this is not how your clan is. I’m just shocked this would happen.”

“I won’t ever let this happen to you again. And if it does I’ll hunt them down to the ends of the earth. You don’t deserve to go through that again.”

He kept hugging you and placing kisses on your forehead. It helped calm your nerves down.

Seeing Tomas act so quickly to defend you and get your hijab back showed how much he loves you. If you actually saw what he did you would see he would even kill for you. You knew you’re in safe hands right now. He didn’t want that incident to spoil your guys time together so he made the most out of the day.

Soon after the Lin Kuei came around to apologize as well for that one member’s actions. Even Kuai Liang and Bi-Han apologized. Bi-Han especially since he is the grandmaster. You let them know you understand it’s not them and you appreciate their apologies. It gave Tomas the idea of how you guys could spend the day together. He and a few other clansmen taught you how to defend yourself to make sure you can keep yourself safe. It was quite useful and you were happy with the time you were spending with Tomas. In a way this is to show he is always protecting you whether it be by his hands or yours.

You certainly have a great man by your side.

Kuai Liang

Lovely weather has made itself present in Japan. Now is a good time to take a break from the Shirai Ryu and spend time with you.

You and Kuai Liang both wanted to explore Japan more since he started creating a clan here. Kanazawa seemed like a good please to start. Specifically Kenrokuen garden. The garden is beautiful all year round. He said he would love to go to a place that matches your eternal beauty.

The cherry blossoms were in bloom at the moment so it was lovely to see them blowing in the wind. Taking in the sight of nature made you feel tranquil. You walked with your arms wrapped around Kuai Liang’s arm. He would translate whatever you needed to be translated so that you understood everything around you. Cause you certainly needed to know about the Karasaki pine trees. You have never seen such strange trees before.

As much as Kuai Liang was admiring the scenery he was admiring you as well.

Yet even a calm place like the garden can’t help those who lack decency. I guess there will always be the disrespectful ones in places that honor respect. And to think this mentality came from a foreigner.

It happened unexpectedly and suddenly. One moment you were looking up at the cranes that flied high in the skin and the next you feel your hijab slipping off your head. At first it was slipping away gently which made you think it was loose. But then it was yanked off and you were left stunned by the action.

Kuai Liang didn’t see your head but he did see a man run past you with your hijab in his hand. You put your hands up to hide your head to the best of your abilities. Kuai Liang immediately took action against the scum.

Suddenly the person felt a rope tighten around their waist. It was like a snake was wrapped around them. They felt a tug and before they could even look back they heard a deep and anger-filled yell.

“Get over here!”

Kuai Liang yanked his roped kunai back. Dragging the perpetrator towards him. Everything went by so fast the person didn’t have time to avoid Kuai Liang’s harsh kick. That kick could have snapped the spine and cause spinal fluids to spill out. They slammed down against the ground with a loud groan. Kuai Liang stomped on him to keep him in place before scolding him.

“Show some respect. Do you have no sense of worth? Only those who are low and weak do such actions.” Kuai Liang insulted him before taking your headscarf back.

He held it out behind him for you to take. Luckily some other female visitors saw the situation and tried to hide you just in case anyone else came around. They handed the hijab back to you for you to put back on. After a few moments they alerted Kuai Liang that it was all good. He looked back at you before taking your hands into his.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. Today should have been a peaceful day. If only I knew there would be dishonorable men walking around.” He took another jab at the man.

“It’s not your fault, Kuai Liang. I’m just glad you got my hijab back. I don’t know what would have happened if he got away.” There was still worry in your voice from thinking about the possibility.

“I guess we won’t know now. And we will never know because I will make sure no man does such things to you. You deserve so much more in this world.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead while his thumb rubbed against your hand.

The confidence in his voice made you certain that his words are true. You trust that he will do you right no matter what. That’s how Kuai Liang is.

“Perhaps we should head somewhere else. I would hate for us to be disturbed again. Would you like to explore the Nishi Chaya district?”

You nodded your head, you could go for some tea right about now.

Kuai Liang quickly wrapped up his rope and took your hand again as you ventured on. The lowlife was left on the ground with the women who helped you to berate him even more. You couldn’t understand what they were saying but they sure put some spice into their attitude.

You were just glad to end the day on a good note by going to a tea house. You enjoyed your tea while having the opportunity to try some desserts. You always wanted to try dango and warabimochi! You certainly felt better with the fact that Kuai Liang was looking at you with the most loving and caring expression.

He really cares for you and he wants you to have many great experiences in your life. And to see you now calm with your cheeks full of sweets is the best view he could have. He’ll make sure he can always have this beautiful view of you.

You are just grateful to have a man like Kuai Liang. One who is always willing to protect you without a second guess. And one who will buy you some good desserts.

After notes: I’m sorry your friend had to deal with that. I’m hoping this is good enough. If not I could try to do it again. If I got some details wrong notify me in any way so I can edit things. But I hope this will bring her comfort.

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

[marymary-diva17]

Family is my fortress

sully family x reader

To you family is everything and your family is your fortress, and you will do anything to keep your family safe from harm. They had been there for you and you had been there for them. Being the eldest was alot but you did a good job, since you were young you wanted the type of love your parents had and you had gotten it. Falling in love with future olo'eythan from other clan and you had become his mate, you had thought you two will be together forever until that all came crossing down.

y/n " ......" you kneel in the ground tears falling down your face as you look at your mates parents and the rest of his clan, as they all looked at you with hate in their eyes.

tshaik " you have betrayed my son and the clan your demon women"

y/n " I haven't betrayed anyone it all lies you have to listen to me"

olo'eythan " no you lie tricking our son into become your mate and, then having us all think you are pregnant with his child ... when we all know that a lie those kids are not his they are demon blood"

y/n " awomti I deemed to speak him he my mate and the father of my children"

tshaik " you say it lies but we have reports from Siawo and others have told, us you been talking with your family and making plans for the clan"

y/n " no please you all don't understand"

olo'eythan " siawo tell us what you have overheard"

siawo " umm I have heard ....."

tshika " speak but child this demon will not hurt you"

siawo " yes tshaik I have heard her speaking with her father and those demons, of having their human stuff come here and the evil ones as well ... but I think she doesn't ..."

tshiak " that enough it has been spoken we have many witness to speak about you. since the day my son laid eyes on you everything has fallen apart ... you have used your demon ways to win him over and become his mate, when he was promised to siawo here who was a friend to you"

y/n " they didn't love each other we all know that she helped me meet him"

olo'eytahn " enough if you were not neytiri daughter we would of kicked you out, all those years ago but seeing how she fall in love with demon now we know she was not in right mind ... now your demon blood will infect our clan and our family blood line"

y/n " please awomti he my mate he will not let this happen"

tshaik " my son will be okay with it he will get a better mate with sawio, and give us proper navi children that don't have demon blood like you ..... now leave this land while you can before we have you chased out"

y/n " please no what of my childern and awomit he hasn't meet them yet, they haven't come into the world yet you can't do this"

olo'eythan " leave now women while you can or we will find a way to call the evil demons, have them take you and the unborn baby " shocked hit you as you didn't harm to come to your baby at all.

crowd " leave leave leave"

navi women : she was never one of us"

navi man " awomit needs a better mate then her" the yelling had gotten to much and you soon packed up to leave, heading towards home to your family.

the next morning

y/n " we are here girl" you had soon reached where your family and some of the clan had been staying and made their home as well.

????? " sister" you had looked up to see lo'ak standing there, he soon went towards.

???? " hey brother who is there .... y/n mom dad y/n is home" lo'ak had been shown as he soon made his way to you.

neteyam " sister you have travel here"

y/n " yes I came to see my family"

lo'ak " you shouldn't be travaling here all alone sister not while you are pregnant"

y/n " I just had to come see you"

???? " my daughter" you soon saw your mom and dad along with your sisters, when you family was closer tears had formed in your eyes.

tuk " sister is everything okay" you had fallen to your knees and stared crying your family started panic, you mom had brought you into a warm embrace as you cry.

mo'at " bring her inside she might be hurt and in need of care, once she clam we can talk with her" neytiri had helped you stand as the family had taken you to healer hut, after you clam down you told them everything.

y/n " that what happened"

mo'at " that is horrible"

kiri " y/n why didn't you call for us"

lo'ak " yes why didn't you we would of come and help you"

y/n " the thsaik broke my ear piece"

neytiri " I will leave now and go face that women who dare she treated you and, my unborn grandchild like that"

y/n " mom no please"

neytiri " my daughter she has dishonored you and our family she most pay"

Jake " neytiri we can deal with her now our daughter needs us right now"

ronal " hello we have come by to see your daughter"

neteyam " she clam down now"

tonowari " good we are sorry for what has happened to you and we will give you and the baby refugee her, awomti parents not have that much power and say over here"

y/n " thank you"

Jake " sweetie I'm sorry I should of ..."

y/n " dad it not your fault I thought my life was getting better, but not that seems to have changed"

tuk '"don't cry big sister you still have us"

spider ' yes we will make sure they never mess with you again"

y/n " thank you I hope and have faith awomti will come"

neytiri "he will come my daughter he loves you dearly" neytiri did her best to make her daughter fell good, her family and offered to make her room in their house. she said she was fine as tonowari had said there was emptied home not, far from his family which made everyone feel good. Days had gone by and awomti had never come and soon enough your babies had been born twins sons. Motherhood was new to you but with the help of your parents, everything had become better.

neytiri " Thank you for having us over during the twins nap time, and we also brought over some dinner as well"

y/n " thank you mom"

Jake " they are handsome kids"

y/n " yes they are both of them representing the forest and the sea"

neytiri " my daughter we also came here to speak about you, on the matter related to your mate and his family"

y/n " yes I know he has yet to coming resulting on many other things"

Jake " you are not alone on this matter sweetie I and your mom are here along with your siblings and grandmother"

y/n " thank you dad"

Jake " oh yes and if his father show his face here and say anything bad about you and my grandson, I will teach him a good lesson about what happens when you mess with my baby girl and grand babies" you and your mom had laugh at Jake words soon it sound like someone was coming to the door.

lo'ak " hey we came by to see the boys and storm rolling in as well"

Neteyam " so we came home right away and had a feeling everyone was here"

y/n " come inside" your siblings had stepped into the home and soon sat down, it didn't take long until the twins had woken up from their nap and joined the rest of their family. The twins were having a good time with their uncles and aunts.

Jake " y/n"

y/n " yes dad"

Jake " whatever happens we are here for you our family is fortress, we will keep everyone safe"

neytiri " yes and now will keep our two new members safe from harm"

lo'ak " hey sis what are you going to name them"

y/n " the oldest one will be named Emeyo and the youngest one will be named Rieo they will carry on the sully name"

Jake " that perfect now neteyam hand me over my grandson"

neteyam " no you got to hold him longer last time"

Jake " do not disobey me" the family started laughing who soon made twins soon laugh as well. The pain you had felt before had started fading away bit by bit. As you had know you have your family by your side, and they will always be your fortress and you will be their fortress as well.

[pedroshotwifey]

For the NSFW prompts, can you do #25 with Dave and Dieter and GN reader?

Hey, babe! Here it is in all of its filthy glory! I'm not sure what came over me, but I do know what (who) came over them :)

Pairing: Sub!Dieter Bravo x Sub!GN!reader x Dom!Dave York

W/C: 2.4k

Tags/warnings: polyamory, established relationship, dom & sub roles, finger fucking, ass eating, orgasm denial, edging, playful banter/undertones, fluff, smut, healthy relationship, aftercare, blowjobs, deepthroating, facial, cum eating, ball play, mutual masturbation, hair pulling, pet names, degradation (not rly but kinda), one singular spank, one singular barely there face slap, no description of reader other than they have hair (doesn't specify how long), Dee and reader being little shits

Summary: You and Dieter think it's fun to tease Dave, and Dave thinks he should teach you both a lesson for it.

Tease

Dave probably only got home about half an hour ago, but you’re already starting to feel the effect he has on you. You’ve been a bit pent up all day, and you can’t help it anymore. He, you, and Dieter have been cuddling in bed for most of the time he’s been here, you on his left and Dee on his right as you savor his presence in the dark. You’ve had a feeling that Dee’s been just as pent up as you all day, but now you hear him snoring—which is pretty on brand for him. 

The two of you are allowed to mess around while Dave's at work, the only rule being that neither of you are allowed to come without his permission. So, technically, it’s your own fault for starting shit with Dee this morning. But still. You need him for backup right now. How do you just fall asleep after being edged for a solid hour and a half?  

You’re lying so that your back is to Dave’s front, and obviously you can’t resist grinding your ass back into him. You’ve been making subtle adjustments for the last ten minutes or so, feeling him grow harder and harder. 

You hide your smile in the pillow as you push your ass against him again, attempting to play innocent for however long you can. Of course, it doesn’t work. You hear an intake of breath before Dave slides a hand over your hip and growls into your ear. 

“You don’t realize what it does to me when we’re cuddling and you press your ass against me.” 

You put on your best guiltless face and crane your neck to look at him. “What do you mean?” you ask sweetly. He just gives you a pointed look—a warning. 

I mean, you do have to admire his composure thus far. Had it been Dieter, he would probably already be all over you already. As if on cue, you see a bed-messed head rise up behind Dave’s broad shoulders. He looks like he just woke up, which is probably accurate. 

“They can grind it against me if they want,” he offers like he’s doing the two of you a great service, face serious. He’s propped up on his side, and you can tell the exact moment he grinds against Dave’s ass because Dave whips around and shoots him that same glare he gave you a few seconds ago. Dieter just smiles and you have to hold in your laugh, which makes him have to hold in his laugh, which causes the both of you to lose it. 

You both fall back down on either side of Dave, your laughter growing as he looks between the two of you, trying to figure out what the hell is happening. He ends up grumbling something neither of you catch through your fits of giggles. 

“I guess both of you need to be taught a lesson, acting like children,” he says. 

That catches your attention, and the laughter stops almost immediately. You and Dieter catch each other’s eyes yet again, but this time they’re filled with mischief, excitement, and anticipation. 

“Oh no, please don’t do that,” you drawl, very obviously sarcastic. Dave brings his attention back to where you’re now laying on your back looking up at him, and his face could probably be summed up into the ‘listen here, you little shit’ meme. You hear Dee snickering behind him. 

You flash him a wink and he can’t take it anymore. He sits all the way up and starts to get out of bed, going to turn the light on. 

“Both of you,” he tosses over his shoulder. “Get up and strip.” 

He doesn’t have to say it twice. You and Dieter quickly scramble out and start pulling your clothes off as Dave walks back to the bed, only unbuckling his belt. Before he takes a seat on the edge and waits for both of you to finish. As Dieter pulls his pants down, you can’t help but glance at his cock, still hard as it was earlier. 

“Come here, Dieter,” Dave points to the bed beside him, and Dee is quick to follow his instruction. You see him gulp as he climbs onto the bed, sure to be on his best behavior. He knows he’s in trouble when Dave uses his full name. “Hands and knees,” he tells him. Dee gets into position. 

You watch with pleading eyes, waiting to join in on the fun. 

“Get behind him,” he says to you. “I think he wants your sweet tongue in his ass. Don’t you, Dee?” 

You climb onto the bed behind him, taking position as Dee nods frantically. 

“Ask nicely,” Dave demands, settling up behind you and placing a hand on your back. 

“Please eat my ass, I need it,” Dieter begs you, pushing it out more in invitation. 

“Good boy. Go ahead, baby,” he tells you. “Give him what he wants.” 

You quickly surge forward, licking a stripe up his taint and feeling him shiver against you as he lets out a long groan. 

You try your best to ignore the way Dave’s hand starts to creep further down your body, cupping your ass. It goes away for a second, and when his fingers return, they’re covered in what you can assume is his saliva. He trails them down to your hole, not pushing them in but just teasing. You whine against Dieter as you circle his hole, your hips pushing back to try to get Dave inside of you. 

Clearly, that wasn’t a good choice because there’s very quickly a spank against your ass, making you jolt. “Be good,” He reminds you. You nod and finally slip your tongue inside of Dieter, making him moan and his hips thrust forward, his cock swinging in the air. You keep going, working him further by thrusting the muscle in and out as Dave’s fingers come back to your own hole, this time allowing one to slip in about halfway. You keen but do your best to not push back, just keep focusing on Dee, doing what he likes. 

Dieter moans again as you touch that spot he loves so much, and you can tell he’s fighting the urge to touch his aching cock. 

Dave pushes his finger all the way in and you start to tremble with need. You pull your tongue back and start to circle Dieter’s rim again, and this time his hand comes back and threads through your hair, not pulling or pushing, but most likely there to stabilize himself. 

“Mhhp, ‘s so good,” he whines. 

Dave chuckles and you can see him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. “Desperate things.” 

He’s pumping his finger in and out of you now, and he adds a second as your tongue pushes back into Dieter’s ass. You can feel heat start to lick at the base of your spine and curl up in your belly, and you’re sure that Dee’s probably feeling the same right now. You catch a glimpse of Dave’s other arm moving, and you know he’s palming himself over his slacks. 

Dave’s fingers speed up, and you can feel yourself getting close. Judging by the way Dieter’s whines grow more high pitched and his body starts to shake, he must be getting close, too. 

“D-Dave,” Dieter whimpers. “Please can I come? Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” 

His hips are rocking now, and you place a hand on his thigh to steady him as you increase your efforts. You’re almost there, too. You just need a little more of Dave slamming his fingers deep inside of you, crooking them just right.

You’re about to signal to ask, to fall apart with Dieter, when Dave’s fingers quickly pull out, and then you’re being dragged away from Dee’s ass. 

“No!” you cry as Dave pulls you to him, your building orgasm beginning to fade. Dieter collapses, a groan of defeat leaving his lips. 

Dave laughs, holding you and making you watch as Dee lays in a panting heap on the bed. You look up at him, a million different emotions in your eyes. When you look back to Dieter, you find an expression that probably matches yours watching your Dom as well. 

Dave looks back and forth between you, a smirk playing at his lips. “What? Not funny when I do it?” 

Your jaw just about drops. So that’s what this is. You almost forgot about that. You look at Dieter, who dramatically plants his face into the mattress. 

“Get back up, Dieter, both of you on your knees, now.”

You both slide from the bed, much less enthusiastically than you had gotten on. Dave, the only one still smiling, gets off behind the two of you and walks past where you’ve gotten into position side by side on your knees. 

You both watch him, trying not to drool as he slowly strips out of his clothes and then walks back to you, his hard cock hanging tauntingly in front of you. You can’t take your eyes off of it, the bead of precum at the tip as he firmly grasps it. 

“Well?” 

You and Dee are pulled from your trance, both of you looking up at Dave’s face. “Open your mouths,” he tells you, leaving no room for negotiation—not that either of you would want such a thing. You both obey, opening your jaws and showing your tongues. 

“There we go,” Dave encourages condescendingly. He taps the tip of his cock on your tongues one at a time, giving each you the smallest taste. 

“Okay, here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to touch yourselves while you suck my cock, and if you can come before I do, then go ahead, you don’t have to ask permission.” 

You both perk up at this, tongues still out and waiting. 

“If you can’t though,” Dave continues, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. “Then you’ll just have to wait until I decide you can.” 

You and Dee stay facing him, but your eyes flicker toward each other. You both know that he doesn’t just mean wait hour or a day. He might make you wait a week—more if he feels like it. If you want relief any time soon, it needs to happen now. 

“Well? What are you sluts waiting for?” 

You both surge forward, mouths finding his shaft and sucking once he moves his hand out of the way. He tastes so fucking good—salty and musky. You both moan at the same time, sending vibrations up Dave’s cock and making him groan. 

“Fucking good job,” Dave mutters. Dieter whimpers at the praise, and you feel yourself throb, which is the second you remember you’re allowed to touch yourself. 

You thrust your hand down between your legs, immediately starting to work yourself. Your eyes roll to the back of your head at finally being able to do something about the ache that’s been there all day. There’s a sudden sting on your cheek, and you’re forced to look back up at Dave from where he landed the soft smack. He’s watching you with a piercing gaze, and it sends another spark through you, getting you close to the edge again. 

Keeping up the pace between your thighs as much as you can, you keep your eyes on Dave and lick up his thick shaft, tasting more precum as well as Dee’s drool. Dee moves over enough for you to move your mouth to Dave’s tip, and you take it in, sucking and using your tongue to flick the head of it. With the combination of your impending orgasm and Dave’s husky taste on your tongue, your entire body feels fuzzy and light.

“Oh, shit,” Dave grunts and places his hand on your head, gently pushing you further onto him. Dee moves lower and starts to nip and suck as Dave’s heavy balls. You can hear the furious slapping sound of Dieter getting himself off, see the way his cheeks start to gain more color as he gets closer to the edge. 

Dave starts to thrust into you, your lips stretching around his girth. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag, your eyes filling with tears. It’s almost hard to focus on the intrusion, however, when you have the pleasant, heated sensation swirling in your lower abdomen. You’re almost cross-eyed by the time Dieter comes back up and starts to lick at Dave’s length when you’re pulled off. 

Dave’s panting heavily now, a sure sign that he’s getting close. A surge of panic floods through you, and you move your hand even quicker, whining in relief once you know you’re going to be able to come. You’re so close. You switch with Dee, who now has his moans being choked by Dave’s cock, and start to lick at Dave’s balls. 

The symphony of noises coming from the three of you is loud. The slap of skin on skin where Dee fists his cock, the breathy moans and curses spilling off of Dave’s tongue, the gargles coming from Dee’s throat, the keens from you. 

You all finish at the same time, groans and growls filling the bedroom as you and Dee are tugged back, coming on your hands as your mouths fall open and your eyes close in pure bliss. The pleasure races through you, forcing you back on your haunches even as you keep up your movements to ride out your high. Dave’s salty cum paints your face, and you don’t have to look to know Dee is receiving the same treatment. 

You wait until you’re sure all of you are done before you open your eyes. You all breathe heavily, you and Dee sinking down to your asses and leaning against the side of the bed as Dave crouches down in front of you. He watches both of you, savoring the sight of you both so fucked out and wearing his seed. 

One at a time, he leans forward and kisses your heads. “I’m going to go get some towels and water,” he says, his voice gentle now. Dee nods and scootches close to you, snuggling up even though you’re still on the floor and your bodies are sticky with sweat. You smile, again reminded of how lucky you are to be so close to these two. Dave just shakes his head at the two of you.

“Stay out of trouble while I’m gone,” he jokes. 

Yeah, right. Dieter will probably be falling asleep again in the thirty seconds it’ll take him to get back.

***** Want to read more requests or submit your own? Try this link!