#a lot of things coming to mind seeing these

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Calcharo, and Jiyan with shy gn s/o?

Jiyan

He doesn’t mind your shyness, not one bit.

He’s not exactly someone who can actively engage in socialising, especially not when most of his time was spent on the frontlines talking about strategies, supplies and coming up with ways in which they would avoid having mass casualties.

So if anything he’s the last person to judge you on your shyness. It would be unfair.

Jiyan is the person you go to for comfort, for advice because he brings you a lot of clarity and certainty unlike any other that you feel as though you could go to him for anything and he would try his best to help you, which is true.

He didn’t mind it when you practically tried to hide yourself behind him whenever there were people talking to him, he just reached a hand behind him in search of your own and holds it reassuringly until the group leaves, where he would then ask if you were okay.

Jiyan would much rather spend time with you in a secluded spot away from everyone, watching the Gulpuffs swim by as you both sat underneath the shade of a trees then be anywhere else if it made you happy.

He’s always preferred moments of peace and quiet after dealing with the chaotic and unpredictable situations he’s use to on the front lines, is sometimes he finds it hard to make his body relax and enjoy life when his eyes were always looking for the next big threat. So being in those moments of peace and quiet with you made jiyan relax easier as he had someone he deeply cared for to share this moment with.

He’d even find it even more peaceful if you were to fall asleep against his side, comfortable with him enough to allow yourself to be in a vulnerable position as he’s left to watch over you as you slept, always guarding you from everything and anything that would do you any harm.

Bonus if he falls asleep soon after, resting his head atop of yours and it acts as a cute moment to look back on with fondness and gratitude that you stayed by his side.

Jiyan worries that might not always be there for you due to his duty as General, he also worries that he might not make it back to you one day, that one day he’ll see you for the last time before going back to the frontlines to face the new threat.

So he makes you promise to plant a flower just for him if that were to ever be the case and you hugged him as tightly as possible in response, muttering that he wouldn’t die, jiyan wordlessly hugged you back equally as tightly, internally wishing that your words held truth to them for the future was always uncertain; now more then ever.

Calcharo (I love this Vergil/sepihroth looking beauty)

Another man who doesn’t care whether you were shy or not.

At first he might’ve intimidated you but after several instances where you were shown that he was far from the stories -or misconceptions as he’d call them- that you’ve heard about him and his group.

He’s a gentle and sweet man when you saw past the perpetually grumpy, brooding air about him.

He’s more or less protective over you and wants to keep you safe from anything and everything, human or not, no one was safe from his wrath if he were to be made aware of you being in any danger.

So Calcharo tries to stay close to you however he can so that he could keep an eye out for shifty characters with ill intentions, he does not tolerate it when people take advantage of people who couldn’t stand up for themself, it was pathetic and cowardly in his eyes and he want about to let you be their next target.

He’s a man of few words but that’s because he mainly lets his actions do most of the talking. So if he saw there was something you’d like but couldn’t find the voice to speak about it, he would silently stalk away and come back to present you with the thing you wanted in hand.

Calcharo could read you like a book and knew what you wanted and needed by a few simple bodily gestures. He wanted you to feel comfortable with him and he knew that takes time because he too took time to get accustomed to having someone in his life.

‘Do- do you ever get tired of me?’ You asked one day and Calcharo could tell it took all the willpower you had just to come up to him and say it.

‘What do you mean by that dearest?’ He said as he watched as you internally fight to get the words out and growing frustrated with yourself when you went to open your mouth, only for nothing but silence to come out.

‘Take your time.’ He calmly reminds you and you took a deep breath.

‘It’s just- I know I’m shy and struggle with doing things on my own such as order a meal or making doctors appointments, but I can’t help but think that maybe you’re getting tired of me for not doing things on my own.’ You admitted to him, finally getting the weight off of your chest as you stared at the brooding man in front of you, worried about what he might say.

‘I do not grow tired of you, I don’t think It’s right of me to grow tired of you when all you’ve ever been doing is trying your best.’ Calcharo replied as he stood in front of you and slowly reach for your hand and caresses the back of it with his thumb. ‘Your shyness is far from an issue for me and you shouldn’t have to be expected to be perfect at everything just to keep a partner or a friend.’ He squeezes your hand reassuringly. ‘So no, I do not grow tired of you.’

Calcharo couldn’t care less if you were shy or not, you were his partner and he cared for you immensely, which to him should be enough proof.

He may not be the best lover but for you, he tries.

[i-like-media]

I was wondering when they were going to play with the fact the Doctor is black now. 13 being faced with how people think of women was one of my favourite things in her era, so I was curious how they were going to treat his skin colour this season, if at all.

And honestly, Dot And Bubble exceeded all my expectations on the matter!

What a lot of episodes about racism and bigotry do is coddle the viewer. They make clear early on "this is an episode about RACISM and why it's WRONG!" As if you've never heard of the concept before and don't know it's bad. The episode will often portray racism in an extreme sense and show the viewer the main characters are above that.

What Dot And Bubble did, for the entire episode, was letting the viewer figure it out on their own. There was no coddling, only racism as it silently existed. A perfectly pastel and white community with not a single person of colour and the only visible outlier being a goth white kid. And in this world, the first thing the character we follow did, was to block a black guy with a face of disgust.

The title screen rolls and you're left to rationalise it. Surely it was because he was not in her contact list/saying all kinds of mind blowing stuff... Right? Except when Ruby enters her feed and talks about it, she actually replies back... With an eye roll, but she replies... and keeps talking... and listening.

The episode continues, still not a single POC besides the Doctor. They reveal this is an exclusive place for rich people, and eventually the character in question even admits she thought the Doctor was a different person because "I thought you looked the same".

What this episode also does well, is portraying a character we wish to see change and find a better life behind that change. We see Lindy struggle to navigate the world without her bubble, calling herself stupid, and we genuinely hope she DOES learn to be better, even as you slowly pick up on what's been going on sofar. You are left to hope she'll thank him and realise the error of her ways, and maybe find a new drive to think for herself.

And then she doesn't.

She stays in her bubble, doubling down on how she feels about the Doctor, how they're excited to be like their settler ancestors, and finally CLEARLY revealing to the viewers what's been off this whole time... and the scene asks: did YOU notice the signs? Did you see what went wrong along the way, or did you only notice just now when it's explicitly shown to you? And why do you think that is?

It challenges the perspective of the viewer and tells you to reflect on why you didn't see it coming, and that is so so powerful.

The Doctor's reaction to this scene..... 👌👌👌👌

His mouth is ajar, stunned beyond belief that after all he's done and all he can offer, the offer to literally save their lives, he is reduced to someone who's nothing more than the hue of his skin. He yells at them, telling them he doesn't care what they think of him because he's still the same doctor he's always been, and to still get rejected with a dirty look... Which hits extra hard when you remember how much the Doctor loves being himself. He LOVES being the Doctor again! And he walks with such a pep in his step, celebrating his existence and sharing it with all he meets... and then he tries to save some rich white kids from certain death.

His performance in that moment was literally phenomenal. It's a narrative that's so powerful and so creative in its execution, my jaw was still on the floor throughout the credits.

This episode is definitely up there as one of my favourites sofar

[jakesangel]

making out w jake

tw// making out, flirting, it's nothing bad really, suggestive

making out with jake occurs lots of time. every single time actually. each time you see jake, he will want to have you and if time offers, he would have a make our session with him. and as he has different side as a lover, there is different kind of make outs w him.

the best way for him the wake up, is the feel your kisses on his face. the warmth of your hand on the side of his cheek, your soft breath fanning on his face. he would hum as he wakes up, grinning stupidly, mornin' my angel, he'd say, slowly opening his eyes. and as you finally kiss him on his lips, he wouldn't let you go, his hand going in the back of your head, deepening the kiss. you guys would stay under the blanket, you half way on top of him, lazyly kissing for minutes until one of you can't breath. i couldt dream of another way to wake up, baby, he would say, before diving in again. you will feel his smile between the kisses, or even so his humms as his mind n body feels very good at the moment. to be more comfortable, he would move you, so you can face him, you on the side, and pull you closer by your waist. humm my pretty girl, he'd say between sights, i love you so munch. so so munch, as he'd admire your natural beauty. my pretty pretty pretty girl, as he starts kissing you again, smiles shared from the both of you.

playful makeouts also exist w jake. in fact jakes loves to annoy you in a fun way by tickling you. the both of you would run around the apartment, you running from him, him trying to reach you and as you'd fall on the floor, himon you, your pretty smiley face wouldn't go unnoticed to him. he would kiss you, right there n then, forgetting about your playful fight few seconds ago. he would peck your whole face, making the both of you giggles, filling his heart w nothing but pure hapiness.

it would also happen when watching a movie, your legs on his lap, his hands strocking them : you are often, always, a distraction to him. your soft skin under his finger tips, your warmth n weight on his lap, your scent as your arms are around his neck. all his sense are invaded by you but it's not enough for him. he wants more n that boring movie is doing the exact opposite of what he needs : your attention. and he will take it : his hands would slowly travel your legs, hinting you if his boredom. angel, could you sit on my lap for me, he'd say as he would help you to face him n not the tv, you know you really hypnotizing. you're really so pretty, my love. he wouldn't let you do a thing, talking you thru it, his hands on your things slowing coming to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his eyes right on yours. my pretty pretty girl, sitting so prettily just for me, he would finally said, kissing you roughly. making out w him when he is needy do you, would never start slow, passionate kisses shared almost fighting for dominance, so pretty, he'd murmur against your lips, looking so pretty in front of me how do you expect me to stay put. it's also during those kind of kisses that he would dive his tongue between your lips, after bitting your bottom lip. he wants everything you could give him and even more, what he can take from you. and as his tongue n lips can't be controled, so is his hands, place on your lower back or your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, almost you falling down on him. he would be so into it, only the tv can remind you that life exist n that the both of you can't stay kissing all night all, pulling a laugh from him. he'd pull back, his eyes almost full of lust, let's take that to the bedroom, m'okay baby ?

before going to bed, jake enjoys slow make outs the most, ending the day together, in each other embrace. even if he can sleep well on his own, and further more sleeping early, he enjoys staying up until you finish your routine, waiting to have his nightly kisses, making his sleep better. so he would take it as slow as possible, enjoying and tasting you the most that he can. i never want you out of my life baby. love you so much baby, he would whisper in the dark. as his sleeps would take over, he'd be the on ending the kisses as much as it hurts him, so he would place one last peck on your lip, smiling thru it, still thanking you for your existence next to him and then pulls your head closer to his chest, good night baby, i can no wait to wake up w you in my arms again.

notes : i need him so bad >____<

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @txnwvc @iikeustar @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 FRANCESCA

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: fate will always find a way. {wordcount: 22.1k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: wow guys i can't believe it's over. i won't lie this chapter was an absolute monster to write, i cried and rewrote several times, but i think it came out the way i was hoping. i'll leave some more notes at the bottom so as to not spoil, but i hope you enjoy, it's been such a crazy ride, ily all lots. as always, reblogs appreciated

GENERAL WARNINGS: mcd. dissociation. explicit mentions of past self-harm & suicide attempts. dazai describes his scars as "gross" and "ugly". implications of child abuse. suicide. i believe that's all, if there's any i'm missing, pls let me know, this is a heavy chapter obviously.

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“... You said you have a brother?” 

You look up from where your head is resting on Dazai’s chest, peering at him with furrowed brows. He raises his eyebrows, hoping the curiosity on his face comes across as innocent. In his defense, it mostly is—Dazai only wants to know because he’s wondering if he’s correct in assuming the mentions of your brother were in the present tense because he’s still alive. 

If that’s the case, then that’s another first in this universe, he thinks. As far as Dazai is aware, in every other universe, your brother has been long dead by the time Dazai meets you and if that’s changed, it had to have been because of something Dazai unwittingly did, otherwise what else would’ve led to such a drastic change from the norm.

He doesn’t recall if you ever mentioned anything of significance about your brother in any of the other universes. The most he remembers is that in some, he passed away when you were sixteen and that he was involved with some shady business. You claimed that it was something to do with underground rings but if Dazai’s right in assuming that he is still alive, then Dazai thinks that the underground ring business was a cover for Port Mafia business, because the only thing that so drastically changed in the years your brother would have died was Dazai coming into contact with the Book and upending the Port Mafia’s operations.

“I do,” you say, shifting to prop your chin up on his shoulder, you lean in to brush your lips against his jaw and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut, lifting his hand to caress the small of your back. “We don’t speak anymore.”

God, Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, watching as you lean into his touch. He lifts his shoulders up off the bed to tilt his head down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He can feel you smile against his and he swears his heart is in his throat, hand sliding to hold the back of your head as he lets his fall back against the pillows. You settle back against his chest and Dazai cards his fingers through your hair as his mind spins.

It’s been two weeks since the event, and while the upcoming conflict with the House of the Dead and their allies has been eerily quiet, Dazai thinks it might be for the best because things with you have not been quiet. The past two weeks have been tense and strained, once the fog of the night the two of you spent together finally disappeared, the realization of your situation hit you hard. 

It’s been cycle after cycle of you shutting yourself off from him—curling up in the corner of his bedroom and staring out the window before sending yourself into a steep spiral of fear and paranoia. You haven’t dared to leave the headquarters in two weeks, even when Chuuya and Atsushi and half the Black Lizards offer to escort you, too scared to even step out of his apartment and go down to the lower floors. Sometimes you lash out at him, angry and accusatory; other times, you just cry, terrified sobs that rip Dazai’s heart right out of his chest, and he can only hold you until it passes. And it does pass, it always passes, and he gets a day or two with you like this, peaceful and pleasant. He can pretend that the two of you are just a normal couple in love with each other and not have to face reality.

He hasn’t been much better off. Every day that passes, the corners of the pages of the Book edge further into his vision. He knows it’s coming—his face-off against Dostoevsky, the first trial he has to face to ensure you can live in this universe—and he knows he can’t let himself falter even once or make a single mistake. He’s good at putting up a front around the executives—although he’s sure that Chuuya and Kouyou are realizing just how anxious Dazai really is—but he has to keep his hands beneath the table to hide the way his fingers tremble. He thought he would have more time to prepare for this, he doesn’t know why the timeline sped up so much in this life.

He tries to distract himself from the growing fear by keeping his attention focused on you because you need him right now. Desperately. He’s never seen you like this before. And it’s his fault, he knows it. In most of the other universes, you never knew his enemies were hunting you down; and in the ones that you did know, you’d been eased into a life with him already, you’d known what you were getting into. He threw you into this life without any regard for how it might affect you, like tossing someone who doesn’t know how to swim into stormy waters.  

Guilt claws at his throat again, as it always does when his mind drifts to what he’s dragged you into, so he forces his mind back to the conversation at hand. Another welcome distraction from the anxiety, a way to keep his fear at bay—trying to figure out who your brother is, a mystery that he hasn’t solved in any other universe. It’s easier to actively avoid the creeping fear than to face it upfront, especially when he’s not sure he’ll be able to overcome it.

“Why is that?” he finally asks, and then after a moment adds, “... I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, but he can hear the strain in your voice and Dazai understands that it’s entirely not fine, and if your brother does happen to be part of the Port Mafia, Dazai is going to put him through the most excruciating and uncomfortable missions before forcing him back into your life because how dare he make you feel this way. “It’s been like this for like six years now. He cut off contact with me, I don’t know why, he never explained. He still sends me money but I don’t care for any of that, I just want to see him.”

Interesting. Six years ago. When he usually would have died in all of the other universes. Dazai’s mind spins as he tries to narrow it down. So many things happened that year. The Dragon’s Head Conflict, the incident with Verlaine-

The incident with Verlaine.

No.

Dazai shifts a bit and you instantly shoot him a disgruntled look, the apologetic smile he gives you in return is only half-hearted. He ghosts his lips across the top of your head before wrapping an arm tighter around you, fingers rubbing absent circles against your bare skin.

Of all of the events that occurred after Dazai came in contact with the Book, the incident with Verlaine had been the one that changed the most. Dazai had gone out of his way to ensure that the Flags survived the incident so Chuuya would still have people after Dazai finished the final stage of his plan, just like how he made sure to put things in place for Atsushi and Kyouka, Gin, pushing Akutagawa to the Armed Detective Agency. Everything would fall into place after the final stage, everyone could have their mostly happy ending.

Everyone but him.

His mind drifts a bit at the thought of his original plan, the phases that he’d enacted to ensure the preservation of this world—long, happy lives for you and Odasaku. Dragging you into his life shattered that and he still hasn’t figured out how exactly he needs to adjust everything to account for this.

You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow

Your words ring through his head. His eyes slide shut and the reminder of Phase Five flashes before his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on already, his throat swelling with frustration. No. Now’s not the time to focus on this. 

The incident with Verlaine. The Flags. Is it possible…?

It doesn’t necessarily have to be one of the Flags. He’s sure that dozens upon dozens of subordinates managed to live in this universe with the Flags still around, Doc especially, butterfly effect and all, but Dazai can’t help but hesitate, a gut feeling drawing him to them. You didn’t recognize Albatross or Piano Man, obviously it can’t be Lippmann. That only leaves Doc and Iceman. Doc doesn’t have a family, Dazai remembers the man mentioning it offhandedly after he was wrangled down into the infirmary for a checkup a few years ago, but Iceman…

“Nah, Iceman ain’t gonna be around this weekend, his kid sister’s graduating uni. He’s going to the ceremony. Hit me with whatever you needed him for, I’ll get it done.”

Albatross’s words from a year and a half ago echo through Dazai’s head. He fully sits up this time, eyes widening, ignoring the way he jostles you around. You scowl at him and shift into a sitting position yourself but Dazai is already fumbling for his phone. You claim you haven’t seen your brother since you were sixteen, and Dazai supposes that doesn’t entirely fit in with the fact that if his theory is right, Iceman went to your graduation, but he also supposes that the man didn’t necessarily have to make himself known to you to attend your graduation.

What other pieces is he missing?

Dazai should have recognized Iceman in the picture on your wall, shouldn’t he have? 

Not necessarily, he thinks—you and your brother had been young in the picture, no older than ten and fourteen, and Dazai doesn’t even deal personally with Iceman anyway. The man reports to Piano Man, and Piano Man reports to Dazai as the middle-man. He hardly sees Iceman more than once or twice a year, if even that. 

And…

Oh.

Dazai exhales, realizing that Iceman being your brother might explain more things than just some oddities in this universe. His mind races as he tries to mentally flip through the pages of the Book, remembering some of the stranger universes out there. Some are so distinct from this one that there are hardly any similarities to this one—universes where the world is still being torn apart by the Great War, universes where you and he had been born hundreds of years prior during an era of warring feudal lords, universes where the world is entirely flooded and universes where the world has become a wasteland.

But there are other universes so similar to this one, with just a few distinct differences, that Dazai struggles to understand what makes them turn out so outrageously different. Everything is functionally the same until the two of you are thirteen or fourteen, where it’s as if the timeline abruptly branches off into countless routes for no apparent reason. Sometimes, he ends up with Odasaku rather than Mori, but in that same universe, you somehow end up with the Port Mafia. In other universes, he ends up with the government as a member of the Hunting Dogs, you end up with the Port Mafia too in that one. Sometimes you have an ability that manifests, sometimes—like in this universe—you don’t. 

He never understood what causes the timelines to go down these routes when everything else is fundamentally the same. He assumed that he was somehow the root of it: it was a decision that he unwittingly made that caused the abrupt branching off of the timeline, but he was never entirely convinced of it because he couldn’t make sense of how him ending up somewhere other than the Mafia led to you joining the Mafia, or triggering the manifestation of your ability.

It makes a lot more sense if you already have a connection to the Mafia that he was unaware of.

That would leave your brother as the variable affecting where you end up, and whether or not your ability manifests. Not Dazai.

“What’re you doing?” you complain, flopping back onto the bed and tugging at his shirt as he puts together the mystery that’s been plaguing him for almost seven years.

“Gimme a second,” Dazai murmurs, only half-listening as he shoots a text toward Piano Man, telling him to summon Iceman back to headquarters from where he’s been dealing with a slippery target abroad for months, not bothering to wait for a response as he tosses his phone back onto his dresser and returns his attention to you, significantly more pleased than he was moments before.

The best way to test his theory is to drag Iceman back to base and see the man’s reaction to you being here. Is it smart? Maybe not, but Dazai doesn’t really care.

“What’s got you so happy all of a sudden?” you ask, eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion.

Dazai’s lips tilt upward as he leans down, half-rolling on top of you as he ghosts his lips against your forehead, nose, and then your lips before resting his head on your chest. “I’m spending my day with a beautiful woman.” He tilts his face up to kiss your jaw, relishing in the giggle you let out. “Of course, I’m happy.”

“Yeah?” you ask, nuzzling your face into his hair as you wrap your arms around him. Dazai thinks that if he died now, he would die in a state of bliss—tucked away in your arms with no threat of the outside world to weigh over him. You trace over the thin cotton shirt he’s wearing, drawing absent patterns over with the tip of your finger, up his chest to his shoulder, trailing down his arm.

“Mhm,” he agrees, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as he basks in your touch. He glances back down again when he feels your finger brush over the bandages covering his forearms, hesitating for a moment.

He peers up at you through his lashes, watching the curious expression cross your face as you look down at them, not noticing that he’s caught you staring—he knows what you’re thinking, how could he not? He’d known this was going to come sooner or later, that one day you’d wonder what was beneath the rest of the bandages. You’d never looked at him differently for it in any other life, but Dazai can’t help the lump that rises to his throat as he prepares for you to ask.

You don’t.

Instead, your gaze lifts back to his and you lean down to press your lips to his forehead. He hums lightly and tilts his head up, waiting to see if you’ll say something, but you only lift your hand to brush your fingers through his hair.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he murmurs, eyes sliding shut again as you trace your fingers over his face, drawing along the slope of his nose down to his lips.

“I don’t plan to, no,” you say lightly, smiling as Dazai nips at your finger when you press it against his lips lightly.

“Why not?” he asks, gaze lidded as he looks up at you again. He almost frowns, wondering if you don’t want to see what’s beneath the bandages, but that would be ludicrous and makes him feel a bit insecure, so he waits for your answer instead.

“Because I figure you’ll show me on your own when you’re ready,” you tell him and the lump returns to his throat, bigger this time as he catches sight of the soft expression on your face.

He’ll never get used to it, he thinks again, breathless.

“What if I’m never ready?” Dazai questions quietly, watching your face carefully for a response.

You’re entirely unbothered by the prospect. 

“I hope one day you will be, but if you’re not, that’s okay,” you say as your arms tighten around him, leaning down to bury your face in his hair again—he can feel you smile against the top of his head.

His lips part to respond but no words leave them. Instead, he lets out a sigh and takes one of your hands into his, smoothing his thumb over your palm. “What did I do to deserve you?” he says more to himself than anything else as he lifts your hand to his lips so he can kiss your knuckles.

His eyes flutter shut for a second as he considers what to do, but before he can make a decision, he feels you shifting a bit behind him. He glances back at you, brows furrowing in confusion when he catches the sudden conflict plaguing your expression. He twists around to face you, lifting his hand to cup your cheek, frowning at the downcast look in your eyes as you lean into his touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, wondering if he said something wrong but he has a feeling that it’s something running deeper than that. He keeps his voice soft as he searches your eyes for an answer. You don’t respond at first, and Dazai feels significantly more concerned, shifting to his knees to kneel on the bed next to you, tilting your face to make you look at him. “Talk to me.”

“... I have orientation in a few days,” you finally say and Dazai instantly knows what has you suddenly on edge, swallowing thickly. “For school. On Friday. I can’t not go.”

He runs his thumb along your cheekbone, hoping that the small smile on his face does not convey the nerves that eat at him—he doesn’t need to stress you out any more than you already are. A part of him wants to curse himself for being so selfish; none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to live out your life happily without this weight hanging over you; you were supposed to go to school and graduate, not be so scared to leave the bedroom that you hardly even want to go anymore.

God, the guilt is suffocating; it takes all of Dazai’s self control to keep himself grounded here with you and not lose himself in regret.

“Sounds exciting,” Dazai hums, careful to keep his voice light. “You’ll meet all of your new classmates, you better not forget about me.”

He finds a small victory in the way your eyes turn up slightly at his comment, but it’s only brief, returning back to that downcast expression that makes Dazai feel sick to his stomach. He brushes his lips between your brows before pulling back to look at you again, the tips of his fingers running through your hair.

“I’m scared,” you admit softly, “what if-”

“Don’t be,” Dazai cuts you off, doesn’t even let you finish the what if that’s been haunting his thoughts since he came in contact with the Book all of those years ago. If you voice it out loud, he’s scared that it’ll shatter the dam that’s been holding back all of the fear threatening to consume him. “You have nothing to be scared of. Nothing will happen to you.”

“You can’t promise that,” you say, trying to look away, but he forces you to look at him again. His heart feels like it’s in his throat when he sees the way your eyes have welled with tears, one spilling over to trickle down your cheek—he leans down to kiss it away, trailing his lips up to the corner of your eye before hovering over you.

“I can,” he corrects gently. He tells himself the same thing he told you the night he decided to see you again—he has the knowledge, power, and resources, and Dazai is never as motivated when he has you as an incentive. Already, his mind is racing, making plans to get his own men into the building, trying to figure out what would be the best course of action to maybe have Chuuya pose as another enrolled student so he can keep someone close to you. “I can.”

You don’t look convinced, your bottom lip wobbles as you look up at him doubtfully and Dazai is instantly leaning down to press his against yours. Softly. Gently. It’s an innocent kiss, a plea for you to trust him to protect you because he will protect you.

“Do you trust me?” he asks and then falters instantly, reminded of the argument the two of you had two weeks ago. He amends the question and instead asks, “Do you trust me to keep you safe?”

You stare at him for a moment and for a terrible second, Dazai thinks you might be about to say no, but after what feels like an eternity, you nod, and Dazai lets out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. He has to go talk to Kouyou, and the Black Lizards, and Chuuya. He doesn’t give a fuck if he turns this into the Mafia’s biggest operation since the Dragon’s Head Conflict, if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. 

Dostoevsky won’t win—not this time.

When he comes back to the penthouse after spending nearly the whole day trying to work out plans for your orientation on Friday, he can already tell that you’re teetering off of the edge. Dazai lingers in the door frame for a moment, the corners of his lips turning down and all thoughts of the upcoming operation fizzling away as he lets out a soft puff of air, studying you.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window blankly, hands sitting loosely in your lap. You’re still wearing the pajamas he’d left you in this morning, but there are stains on the front of it—he wonders if you tried to cook something but gave up halfway, it would explain the sudden influx of dirty dishes in the sink. 

You look beautiful—you always do, even when you’re littered with stains and half out of it—but you look so fragile that it makes Dazai sick to his stomach. He’s never seen you look so fragile before than he has the past two weeks. You’ve always been willful, the most fearless and headstrong person that Dazai has ever known. Seeing you like this because of him, nonetheless, breaks something in Dazai that he didn’t even know was still capable of being broken.

“I’m back,” he says quietly, so as to not startle you, but you don’t react to his words anyway. 

In fact, you don’t acknowledge his presence or even blink as he brushes his hand against your shoulder before coming to kneel in front of you, eyes searching your face. His throat tightens as he reaches up to cup your cheek and it’s only then that your gaze tracks down to him, but he can tell from the distant look in your eyes that you’re probably not even really seeing him.

“What’d you try to make earlier?” he hums, resting his free hand on your knee, drawing absent circles over your skin.

You stare at him for a moment and when your lips part to respond, he can barely hold back the sigh of relief—if you’re still responsive, maybe he can catch it before you steep down into your spiral, he just has to figure out how. He needs to distract you, obviously, drag you back from the ledge as you’ve done for him—not him—so many times before. 

“… Cupcakes,” you finally tell him softly. “They burned.”

His lips curl upward into a smile, hand sliding up your thigh to grab your hand, lifting it to press a kiss upon your palm. “We can try to make them together later, hm?” he offers. “I’ve never made them before.”

“... Okay,” you respond quietly after a few seconds of silence, and Dazai considers it a win—or, well, he does until you start speaking again: “I don’t think I should go on Friday, Osamu. Maybe I should just unenroll… at least until things calm down, then I can figure it out. I’ll just start later. It’s fine. A lot of people do it.”

Dazai’s eyes slide shut. He holds your hand to his face and rests his forehead against your knuckles—this time he can’t hold back the sigh that slips from his lips. This is his fault, he did this to you. In a world where you’re supposed to be free of the dark, fulfilling all of the dreams you couldn’t because of him in other lives, you’re too scared to even start school, wanting to drop out rather than step outside his penthouse.

God, what has he done?

He drops your hand back to your lap and looks back up to you, hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your head, fingers intertwining with your hair as he looks up at you. Your expression hardly shifts, watching him absently as you wait for a response, but he doesn’t know how to convince you yet so instead he gives you a soft smile that he’s sure doesn’t meet his eyes, but he doesn’t think you notice in your distant state. 

“Come take a bath with me,” he says, half a request, half a plea as he squeezes your thigh gently. “Then we’ll talk, yeah?”

You avert your gaze from his again, but you nod, so Dazai considers it another win. He stands up quickly, helping you to your feet before guiding you into the bathroom. You’d do this for him sometimes in the other universes; when he goes through really bad slumps and can barely bring himself to eat or move, you’ll coax him out of bed and into the bathtub, bringing him a tray of breakfast and letting him rest against your chest as he soaks in the hot water and picks at his food. Sometimes it brings him out of the slumps, sometimes it doesn’t, but it never fails to make him feel less alone so he figures it’s about time he’s able to return the favor to you. 

He hums a familiar jaunty tune as he leans over to get the water running in the tub—hot, you always like the water just a bit less scalding than he usually has it—before turning to you. He crosses the bathroom in three long steps, standing in front of where you’re still leaning against the counter. He cups your cheeks and purposely smushes them so he can lean down and place an obnoxious kiss right upon your squished lips. You don’t look amused by his dramatics, but your eyes are tracking him now—another win. He’s on a roll now, maybe he’ll be able to pull you out of this before it spirals.

“Let me help you get undressed?” he proposes, smiling as he lifts a finger to his cheek and waits for your response. 

“Okay,” you agree—a quicker response than the last ‘okay,’ a good sign. 

Dazai doesn’t waste time as he presses his lips to your forehead, fingers curling around the hem of your soft cotton shirt. He carefully pulls it up above your head, placing it on the counter behind you. You’re not wearing a bra beneath it, so Dazai only lets his hands settle on your hips before he props his chin up on the top of your head.

He lets out a soft breath, eyes tracing the smooth skin of your back in the mirror before he lets them flutter shut. Just as he’s about to kneel down and slip off your shorts and panties so he can get you in the tub, he feels your arms wrap around his waist, and oh. Dazai’s throat tightens as you lean your head against his chest and press your bare body against his clothed one; one of his arms curl around you, large palm splayed against your lower back, while the other cradles the back of your head.

Dazai would do anything for you. Build empires or burn them. He’d gift you the sun and the moon and the stars. He can feel your body trembling against his and he knows that he’d rot in the depths of hell if it meant keeping you safe. There’s no length he wouldn’t go to, no depths he wouldn’t stoop to. His arms tighten around you and he presses his lips back to the top of your head, letting out a shaky breath.

Fyodor Dostoevsky will die. Agatha Christie will die. Both of their organizations will burn. Anyone who’s a threat to you—whether it’s ten bodies or ten thousand, he doesn’t care.

“C’mon,” he says softly, “let’s get you in there.”

He feels you nod against his chest and with much reluctance, his arms drop from where they’re wrapped around you as he kneels in front of you. He kisses your navel as his fingers curl around the hem of your shorts; he pulls them down until they’re loose on the floor around your ankles. When he scoops you into his arms, your eyes widen and he tosses you a playful wink before easing you down into the tub.

Once you’re mostly submerged in the water, you draw your knees to your chest and prop your chin on top of them, staring ahead. Whatever light had managed to return to your eyes fizzles out almost instantly and Dazai bites back a sigh, intent on getting into the tub with you and distracting you from the thoughts plaguing your mind. He slips off his jacket and drops it onto the floor, pulling off his tie haphazardly. He reaches up to unbutton his shirt and-

Oh.

Oh.

Dazai has made a fatal mistake.

His vision tunnels in on the bandages peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt, envisioning the mess of ridged scars that stain the skin beneath them. Slowly, his gaze draws back to you. To the tub. To the water. If he wants to get in with you then-

You don’t seem to notice his sudden predicament, too focused on whatever spot on the wall you’ve been staring at since he set you down, but Dazai thinks that his world might be on the verge of collapse because he loves you, he does, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to take off the bandages. Not yet. Maybe the fear is irrational, maybe it’s not—you’ve already done things in this universe that you’ve never done in any other, and he’s terrified that when you see the deep, ugly scars that litter his skin, you’ll look at him differently.

Shit.

His eyes slide shut, trying to figure out what to do.

He could leave the bandages on—he could, but they’ll become soggy and loose and they’ll probably slip off anyway, not to mention it’ll irritate his skin. And he’ll feel gross after. And he’s sure you’ll take notice of the fact that he won’t even take the bandages off to take a bath with you. He’s evaded it pretty casually up until now and the conversation yesterday morning, but this would be so glaring that there would be no denying that he’s actively trying to not let you see beneath the bandages. Yes, that is what he’s doing, but he doesn’t need you to be aware of that, though distantly, he notes that you probably are already at this point.

Or he could just… take them off. He’s going to eventually, he knows that; he’s not going to hide his body from you forever, but he thought he’d put it off for as long as possible. But maybe this is for the best—it happening now. Him putting it off for as long as possible is exactly what he tried to do with telling you about his position in the Mafia and that obviously blew up in his face—not only did it not happen on his own terms but it happened in the worst way possible. At least now, he can control the situation.

It is with great reluctance and severe anxiety that he finally starts unbuttoning his shirt. He fumbles a few times, fingers feeling extra clunky, but he pushes through because his comfort doesn’t matter right now, helping you does. He reminds himself of that over and over again. He can hardly even count the number of times that you’ve put aside your own comfort for him in all of the other universes, even in this one; he shouldn’t even hesitate to do the same for you. His shirt hits the floor and Dazai’s heart leaps to his throat, the first plate of his armor shed. His pants are next, and Dazai feels sick with nerves as his fingers brush the pin holding the bandages of his left arm in place.

Just do it.

His fingers work to unfasten the pin—he tells himself that he’s being ridiculous. That this is you. He wears his bandages like armor, a shield to hide himself from the rest of the world, but you’ve always been exempt from the ‘rest of the world.’ You’re you, the woman he’s loved since he laid hands on the Book when he was fifteen, the only person in the world who has accepted him for all of the good and bad and-

“How could I accept any of this?”

Your words from two weeks ago ring through his head and Dazai freezes from where he’s about to unwrap the bandages. Doubt sweeps through him—fear, cold and debilitating because he really doesn’t think he can handle your rejection. Not now, not ever, especially about this.

You won’t reject him, he insists again and forces himself to continue, but instead of looking down at the scars that line his arm, deep and discolored, lumpy to the touch—gross, he thinks again, ugly—he looks at you. You’re still staring ahead, oblivious to his rising anxiety and Dazai uses it as motivation to keep unwinding the bandages, letting them fall to the ground carelessly. 

First, his arms, then the bandages around his calves and thighs, his abdomen and chest, and finally his neck—he grimaces as his fingers graze the rough scar that circles his neck, one of the more prominent ones that mar his body, a reminder of his near-successful attempt at fifteen after he first got his hands on the Book and couldn’t cope with all of the knowledge of the different universes. With the knowledge of Odasaku. With the knowledge of you. He was fifteen. Lonely. In the worst mental state of his life, desperately searching for a reason to live and only finding more and more reasons why he should die. He’d found out he was just as isolated from the world in every other life as he was in this one, just as empty—and that the only people who could fill the gaping hole in his chest died because of him in every other universe. 

He was fifteen. It had been too much.

It’s still too much.

His gaze tracks down to the floor again, a heavy feeling settling over him. He’s second-guessing himself again, he’s feeling guilty again. He’s tired.

He’s so tired.

When he moves forward to join you in the tub, he’s hardly present; his body is moving on autopilot and it’s only when his toes dip into the hot water—a few degrees short of his liking, but the perfect temperature for you—that he’s finally drawn back to reality. He’s already in motion, so he can’t stop himself from joining you in the tub, but he is very hyper-aware now of the scars on his body, making an active effort to not let them brush your skin so as to not draw attention to them.

Luckily, his tub is large enough that you can sit comfortably between his legs without being too squeezed between them, so the deep scars that are littered across his inner thighs are not necessarily pressed against your outer thighs. But… the scars on his chest and abdomen are not as easy to evade, nor are the ones that line his wrists. His fingers brush your shoulder from where he was about to pull you back to lay against him and wrap his arms around you, eyes fluttering shut. 

There’s no way you won’t notice them when you lay back.

The largest scar that mars his body runs from his shoulder to his opposite hip—he doesn’t remember how he obtained it. It was from before he found himself in Mori’s hands, and everything before his time with the Port Mafia is vague and blurry, if not entirely blank. Either way, it’s deep and ridged, discolored. Gross. And there’s no way for you to lay against him without feeling it rough against your skin.

He barely withholds the sigh that nearly escapes his lips, but he forces himself to close his fingers around your shoulder to pull you into him. He reminds himself that your comfort comes before his insecurity, you’ve put your own wellbeing to the side for him so many times before—it should not be so hard for him to do it once for you.

For better or for worse, you don’t react when your back lays flush against his chest. For better because you didn’t have an adverse reaction to feeling the worst of his scars against your bare skin. For worse because he thinks it might only be because you’re still half spiraling into a dissociative state. He presses his lips against your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your body, and instantly he flinches because he realizes that he’s just rubbed the scars on his forearms right against you and that has seemed to catch your attention. For better or for worse.

He’s frozen when he feels you shift against him, head turning down toward where his arm is tucked against you. He’s angled it so that you can’t see them, hidden in the water and against your skin, but you’re undeterred and Dazai can hardly bring himself to breathe when he feels your fingers curl around his wrist, gently easing his arm off of you to cradle it between your hands like it’s something fragile, turning over so you can look at scars that litter his skin.

He can’t see your face. A part of him is glad, still plagued with the terrible fear that you’re going to see the scars and be disgusted, but the larger part of him wants to know, wants to see you, wants to-

His breath hitches when you bring one finger to his skin. Soft, gentle, you trace your finger across the ridged lines. Dazai’s lips part to speak, he has the distinct urge to say something, to explain even though you haven’t spoken a word, but he doesn’t know how to explain the emptiness that has plagued him ever since he was a child, that only became even more exacerbated once he made contact with the Book. He doesn’t know how to explain that he was so desperate to feel something that he resorted to this to distract himself from the void. He doesn’t know how to explain that the only reason he never actually killed himself was because he knew he had to survive to ensure you and Odasaku’s survival in this universe. 

But he doesn’t have to speak, because all of the air in his lungs whooshes right out of them when he feels you lift his arm up out of the water to your face—you brush your lips against the pulse point on his wrist before settling back against him, wrapping his arm back around you and covering his hands with your own. 

Dazai’s cheeks suddenly feel wet—it was a simple action, short and sweet, you didn’t even say anything, and he doesn’t know why it affects him the way it does. He should have expected this, right? You’ve never looked at his scars and found them off-putting, you’ve always accepted him for how he is but-

“How could I accept any of this?”

“No amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily.”

Again, your words shatter his thoughts and Dazai has to force himself not to physically react. As if you can sense his distress, you shift in his arms a bit to tilt your head back to ghost your lips against his jawline before settling back against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. His arms tighten around you, heart steadying in pace to match yours. He rests forehead against the top of your head, shivering when he feels you nuzzle your face into his skin, nose brushing the wretched scar that mars his neck.

“Osamu,” you finally say, voice soft. He hums in response, waiting for you to continue. “What I said the night of the event…”

Dazai’s throat spasms. He swallows thickly and tries to play off your words with another soft hum and a brush of his lips against your temple. He’s careful to keep his voice light as he speaks. “You had every right to be upset, I-”

“I… have had a lot of time to think the past two weeks.” You don’t even let him finish his sentence and Dazai is suddenly frozen, no air gets to his lungs as he waits for you to speak. “What I said that night… it doesn’t reflect how I actually feel. I said them in the heat of the moment.”

“… Yeah?” Dazai’s voice is too raspy, too quiet, the vulnerability in the single word is so palpable that it almost makes him want to curl in on himself. Without his bandages, without his masks, he feels as if he’s been stripped bare to his core, his rotted heart laying in your gentle hands, thumping erratically as he awaits your judgment.

“The past few months I’ve spent with you have been the happiest I’ve been since my brother left,” you admit, lacing your fingers with his. “No matter what happens, I wouldn’t give this up for anything. If I could go back in time and redo all of this, I’d still choose to meet you that night at the club, and every time after that.”

He’s grateful that you’re not looking up at him now. He stares ahead at the wall blankly, tears streaming steadily down his cheeks. His chest is warm, breath a bit shaky, and he thinks he might be holding you too tightly but you don’t complain.

“Nothing will happen,” Dazai promises you, voice cracking. “Nothing.”

“I know,” you say quietly, and he can feel the small smile on your lips as you kiss his neck gently, right over his scar. “I trust you.”

“I’m so nervous,” you laugh as you smooth out the dress shirt you’re wearing. Dazai watches as you keep glancing at yourself through the window of the elevator leading down to the first floor. He smiles to himself as he leans against the wall, observing you. “Are you sure I look okay? I don’t even know what the dress code is for this thing, they didn’t say in the email. What if people are just wearing jeans? I’ll look dumb all dressed up.”

“You look beautiful,” Dazai murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You worry too much.”

“I’m not the best at making friends,” you say, voice quick and riddled with anxiety. Dazai raises an eyebrow, lips quirking up because he thinks that might be the silliest thing he’s ever heard you say. “I hope I can at least find a few people to talk to. I hate going to events where I don’t know anyone. I wish you could come with me. What if they all hate me?”

Dazai has an answer to that question, but he doesn’t think you’ll like it, so instead he hums softly, fingers brushing your cheek and smiling lightly to himself as you lean into his touch. “I wish I could come with you too. If only to make sure you don’t forget about me when you find yourself surrounded by all your new friends.”

Dazai wishes that he could tell you that you’re worrying over nothing. That in every other universe, you were quite literally the center of your class. Brilliant, beautiful, kind, Dazai sometimes struggled to get you away from people because you always had someone wanting to grab coffee with you. Struggled even more to understand why you wanted him when you could have any man of your choice. But he can’t say that, and he’s definitely not going to be pleased if he suddenly loses all of his time with you to a bunch of undeserving nobodies, so he resigns himself to just making you feel better.

“Dazai Osamu,” you giggle as you turn your attention toward him. “Nothing in this world would ever make me forget you.”

Dazai’s cheeks heat up, lashes fluttering as he averts his gaze from you. You grin at him and hook your arms around his waist, tilting your head up to look at him. He leans down to press his lips against yours, letting out a pleased sigh against your lips when he feels you kiss him back, smiling against him.

You’ve been better the past few days, a bit more excited over starting school, spent all of yesterday trying on new clothes for him to pick out something to wear for today. Dazai, on the other hand, has been a nervous wreck, although he’s been doing his best to ensure you don’t realize that. 

Everything has been put in place—Chuuya should be waiting at the train station already, Albatross will be driving you there, the Black Lizards are going to escort you into Tokyo, and Mishima offered to have his men do sweeps of the streets to scope out for any enemies before your arrival. As long as everything goes according to plan, it’ll be fine. The riskiest part will be the train station with how busy it is, it’ll be easy for you to get separated from your escorts, but so long as Chuuya gets to you, no one will be able to touch you.

“Everything will be fine,” he unintentionally says out loud as he separates his lips from yours to kiss your forehead.

You look up at him, eyes searching his face for something, and he prays you can’t see his growing anxiety. Finally, you say without any doubt, “I know.”

Dazai lets out a soft breath as his eyes slide shut, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his as the elevator comes to a stop at the first floor. He leads you out of the elevator and across the vast lobby, various lower-ranked members still linger around the room, but much less than there usually is considering he’s sent almost all of them out to ensure everything goes according to plan. For a moment, Dazai’s head throbs painfully—there are so many variables. He starts to question his decision of making this such a large operation but he knows that this is the only way. 

He knows Dostoevsky. He knows that he’ll leap onto this opportunity. Keeping this a small, secret operation would do more harm than help when Dazai is sure that Dostoevsky is about to use the full force of the Three Deaths, the Pale Flame and the House of the Dead to make his move. He’d be shooting himself in the foot if he didn’t use all of his available resources to keep you safe.

“Can I ask a silly question?” you suddenly ask, playing with his fingers as the two of you walk across the lobby.

“Ask away,” he says.

“Do you think there are other universes out there?”

Dazai almost laughs, but he refrains. “I do,” he agrees, and then smiles a bit to himself, repeating words spoken to another him by a different you, a joke only he’s privy to. “String theory, multiverse. I think the world’s a lot bigger than just ours.”

“Yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, a soft expression on your face. “Do you think we’re together in all of them?” 

This time Dazai does laugh, squeezing your hand gently when you jolt in surprise, giving him a dirty look. “I’m sure of it,” he says, trying to push away the smile that keeps threatening to rise to his lips. 

Your smile softens at the edges, gaze averting from him, but before he can ask what’s wrong, you ask: “Do you think there’s maybe one where things aren’t so hard?”

Dazai suddenly has no inclination to laugh, smile falling and throat swelling. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to.

Kouyou and Piano Man are waiting at the entrance of the building, both having remained behind to guard him while most of the Mafia’s other forces are elsewhere. Kouyou doesn’t look pleased, Dazai can see it in the way her brows are furrowed and her lips are tight, but Piano Man still has the same easygoing expression on his face that he always has, gaze focused on you.

“Lippmann told me to pass along his regards,” Piano Man sighs. “He’s been lamenting all morning not being able to be here himself to send you off. The struggles of celebrity life, I suppose.”

You laugh. Dazai can tell from the way your lashes flutter that you’re flustered by the comment. “It’s not a big deal, really. It’s only orientation. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“It’s exciting though,” Piano Man sighs whimsically. “We never have normal things to be excited about around here. It’s only ever bloodbath after bloodbath. It’s a nice change of pace.”

Dazai’s smile tightens and thins, eye twitching at Piano Man’s blase reminder of their occupation, noticing how you cringe a bit. Piano Man catches wind of Dazai’s irritation and his casual smile widens a bit.

“Sorry,” Piano Man hums, sounding not at all sorry and entirely amused. “But honestly, if you think this is bad, wait until your graduation. Iceman didn’t let any of us attend his kid sister’s graduation, we’ve all been dying to see what one’s like. I’m sure Lippmann and Albatross are already plotting out some type of party.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” you complain, but you look a bit giddy and Dazai can’t help but let his gaze linger on your soft smile, one rising to his own lips as he observes you. “It’s so far out. It’s a three year program.”

“I think they plan on making it the grandest event of the year, so it’s never too early to start planning,” Piano Man says easily, tossing you a wink before focusing his gaze on Dazai. “Speaking of Iceman, he’s on the way back now. Should be back in Yokohama in the next hour or so. Are you going to deign us with the reasoning as to why he’s been called back so abruptly?”

“Nope,” Dazai says dismissively, letting go of your hand to press his hand to the small of your back, leading you out of the building and toward the sleek, black car waiting for you.

Albatross instantly is rolling down the window, grinning wildly. “There ya are, doll. C’mon, let’s get out of here. We gotta make it to the train in ten.”

You suddenly look a bit nervous, turning back to look at Dazai as Tachihara steps out of the car and holds the door open for you to slide in the middle seat between him and Hirotsu. Dazai tilts his head, questioning as he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say with a sigh. “I just wish you could come.”

Dazai leans in to kiss your forehead one last time, hands settling on your hips, ignoring all of the gazes of his subordinates watching the two of you. “I know, I do too.”

Dazai thinks that the next six hours are going to be the worst of his life, only able to sit back in the meeting room with Kouyou and Piano Man and watch the CCTV, unable to do anything if something happens to go wrong.

“Stay with Hirotsu and Tachihara,” he finally tells you, voice taking a more serious tone. “They’ll stick with you the whole time. Chuuya is at the station already, went early to scope things out, he’s going to meet you there.”

“Mkay,” you agree, giving him one last long look before making your way into the car.

Tachihara nods deeply at Dazai before entering the car and shutting it behind him. Dazai feels a weight on his chest as soon as you’re out of sight, and he stands there waiting for the car to pull off.

It doesn’t.

After a few moments, the window rolls down, and Dazai watches fondly as you lean over Tachihara to prop yourself outside of it.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, leaning out the window of the car with a soft smile. For the first time in weeks, you look alive. Your eyes are shining, your lips curved upward, and Dazai falls in love with you all over again. The smile on your lips takes a more teasing edge as you push yourself out the window a bit more to grab his tie and drag him closer so you can brush your lips against his and whisper, “I love you.”

Dazai’s eyes shoot open, lips parting to speak but no words leave them, your words leave him caught off guard and dizzy, hardly even registering in his head. You let out a giggle and before he can even think of formulating a response, you let yourself fall back into the car, urging Albatross to start driving already. 

“To think I’d ever see the day that the infamous Demon Prodigy is ever rendered lovesick,” Kouyou hums, fanning herself as she watches Dazai curiously. “You’re actually happy now, aren’t you?” 

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” Piano Man sighs. “Now, we don’t have to worry about being shot in the head if he has a sudden mood swing.”

Dazai looks to the side to give Piano Man a look so withering that it has him instantly giggling to himself.

“Or maybe we do,” he sings, retracting his words. “Come, let’s go back inside. It’s gross out today.”

Piano Man instantly starts making his way back into the building. Dazai sighs as he casts one last long look to where the car is disappearing around the bend in the direction of the train station, gaze lingering before he turns his attention back to Kouyou, who’s still watching him with a contemplative look. Dazai is suddenly reminded of her late lover, who the old boss had killed after Kouyou tried to escape with him, and Dazai wonders if she’s feeling bitter.

As if she can hear his train of thought, she shakes her head and says, “I’m glad you’ve found someone, boy.” Then hesitates before adding, “For all of our sakes, I hope it lasts.”

Dazai doesn’t respond to that. Instead, he frowns and turns to make his way inside, but he doesn’t get more than a few steps before he’s freezing midstep, the sound of a familiar engine roaring down the street in the direction of the main tower reaching his ears. At once, everything tunnels around him, vision blurring and body stiffening. He can’t even bring himself to turn around. Distantly, he hears Kouyou asking him what’s wrong, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He swears that his bones creak and ache as he physically forces himself to look over his shoulder, unfocused vision falling upon a familiar head of fiery red hair skidding to a stop in front of the building. Chuuya doesn’t even bother to turn his motorcycle off or prop it up, it thuds hard against the ground, metal screeching against the pavement as he rushes toward them.

“Chuuya,” Kouyou asks, as confused and caught off guard as Dazai feels. “What are you-”

“Get him inside,” Chuuya shouts. “Get him inside now.”

“Why are you here?” Dazai speaks the words so quietly that he doesn’t think anybody hears him. He feels Kouyou grab his wrist, Chuuya reaches them and pushes Dazai from behind, but their touches only feel like faint tingles. His chest suddenly feels cold, numbness spreading from his core to his limbs. “Why are you here?”

“Tolstoy just blew up our main port, Dazai,” Chuuya hisses, and just before Dazai’s shoved into the safety of the building, a bullet whizzes past his head, lodging into the sign behind him. Only a graze, but it stings, and Dazai can feel the blood seeping through the bandages of his left eye, sticky and uncomfortable. “This is happening now. I thought I could make it before they left. All cell lines are fucking down. That rat bastard Dostoevsky did something.”

No, Dazai thinks, head twisting to the side to look back toward the road you disappeared down with Albatross, Tachihara and Hirotsu, but before he can even force any words from his lips, he’s pushed into the building, listening as Chuuya gives sharp orders to immediately lock it down.

Dazai shakes his spinning head, body on autopilot as he’s ushered to the elevator and up to the most protected floor of the building. He tells himself to think, that now is not the time for him to start slipping up, for him to freeze. You’re out there—in danger—he has to think, he can’t afford to make a single mistake. 

“You have to go. Chuuya, you’re supposed to be at the station,” Dazai says, finally focusing his attention on the one person who is not supposed to be here. The one person he trusted to protect you. 

“You’ve sent three quarters of our forces out on a protection detail for her. She’ll be fine,” Chuuya spits, eyes wild as he turns to face Dazai. “You’re here in this building alone with a handful of men, Ane-san and Piano Man. You’re the one in danger right now. I told you—your head is mine to take one day. I’m not fuckin’ letting you go off and get yourself killed because you’re hyper-focused on your girl.”

“Get to the train station,” Dazai repeats, voice low and cold and entirely too steady compared to the way his mind is falling apart.

It’s happening.

It’s happening.

He knew this was going to happen. He knew it. He knew this was coming. He knew Dostoevsky would take this opportunity to make his move, that’s why he had everything planned so carefully. That’s why he sent everyone out. That’s why Chuuya was supposed to be with you, because Dazai isn’t Dostoevsky’s target. He never is. You are.

Chuuya ignores him, stepping into the executive meeting room. Dazai’s blood pressure spikes. Fear begins spreading through him, cold and debilitating. The mindkiller. He needs to focus, he can’t let himself freeze up. Not now.

“Chuuya,” Dazai says. “That’s a direct order. Go back to the train station now.”

At that, Chuuya finally turns a furious look into him. “Me not being there isn’t going to make a difference. Me not being here might. You’re all but fucking defenseless and Tolstoy and Nabokov are coming now. We don’t have time to argue about this. Hirotsu and Tachihara, Atsushi and Kyouka, all of the fuckin’ Black Lizards—they’re all with her or at the train station, she’ll be fine.”

If Dazai was any less riddled with fear and rage, he might laugh or maybe even cry, or both—he feels close to hysterics, really—because of course now, of all times, is when Chuuya decides to grow a fucking brain for himself. 

“And if you’re wrong?” Dazai doesn’t even want to speak those words, but Chuuya leaves him no choice. “If she dies because the dog thought himself smarter than the master? What then, Chuuya?”

Chuuya all but snarls at him, taking a step forward, but before he can say anything else, Kouyou clears her throat.

“Boys,” she calls quietly, eyes trained on one of the screens streaming the city’s CCTV feeds

Dazai follows her gaze.

On the top left corner of the wall of screens, one of the live footage is flooded with static—gray, shifting into a deep purple before a familiar symbol flashes onto it. The coldness in his chest spreads so quickly that Dazai almost shivers, dread anchoring his feet to the ground.

Dazai doesn’t have to look at the screen to know what’s coming next. 

Oda Sakunosuke is a patient man.

He is. He really is. It’s just that Ranpo Edogawa enjoys testing the boundaries of said patience. He bites back another sigh, watching as the man—man, he questions—complains loudly about an ‘entitled mother’ who had the nerve to ask for his candy to calm her upset child down. Oda has half a mind to step away out of embarrassment, acutely aware of all of the eyes on them, but he knows that if he steps away even for a second, Ranpo is going to find himself lost and then Oda is going to have to track him down again.

Oda sighs, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tilts his head up to look at the ceiling, listening to the announcements over the loudspeaker, signaling the arrival of the next train. Two minutes until it pulls into the station, an hour to get to Tokyo—gives him plenty of time to go back over the files for the mission. Should be a quick in-and-out case, probably won’t even have to stay the night in the city; a string of ability-user murders in Tokyo that have the TMPD in shambles trying to figure out, so they reached out to the Agency to come take care of it.

Oda doubts it’ll take more than half a minute for Ranpo to put the pieces together once given the known evidence by the TMPD, but the issue will be actually getting the ability user in custody. From what Ranpo theorizes, he has some type of invisibility ability that makes him slippery. 

With Oda there, it’ll be an easy grab—with his ability, speed and reflexes, few people can outmaneuver him—but it’s just a matter of when he decides to show himself.

Oda frowns when he notices that Ranpo suddenly stopped rambling, gaze cutting to make sure that he didn’t wander off again, but he’s hardly able to turn his head halfway to the side before his ability is activated. Everything blurs out around him, watching as a girl a few years younger than him—panicked and not looking where she’s going—crashes right into Oda while he’s already off-balanced reaching for Ranpo, sending the both of them hurdling over the edge of the platform and into the tracks just as the bullet train comes barreling into the station.

Oda’s jaw tightens as he’s flung back into reality, surroundings reappearing. His head snaps over to where the girl had appeared from and he catches sight of you just as you’re about to throw yourself out of the crowd, eyes wild and anxious. He watches you trip, hands darting out to steady you before you crash into him; you look up at him, eyes wide and a bit starstruck, lips parting to speak but no words leave them.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice a low monotone as he helps you stand back up straight on your own feet. His head tilts to the side curiously as he watches the way you stand a bit closer to him, eyes peering around as if you’re reaching for someone. “Hm?”

“Oh!” you suddenly say, looking up at him with a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. Sorry. That was so rude of me. I… got separated from my friends. It’s really busy today, isn’t it? It’s not usually so busy.”

Oda hums, looking around curiously. It is a bit busier than it usually is—Friday trains are usually busy, but midday like this, people are usually at work. The late night trains are the ones typically packed and impossible to get on, people leaving from work and traveling for the weekend. Today’s not a holiday either, as far as he’s aware.

“It is, isn’t it?” Oda says, scanning the crowd once more before letting his gaze settle back on you. “You look rattled, is everything okay?”

Your smile wavers at the edges, and Oda frowns, eyes trailing over to Ranpo, who’s already frowning, green eyes squinted and trained on you.

“I’m just… not used to traveling alone! I’m nervous,” you answer, a blatant lie, but you don’t seem like a threat. In fact, you seem more scared than anything else. “I want to find my friends.”

“Is someone bothering you?” Oda asks carefully.

You hesitate, smile straining. Your eyes flicker around again, seeking someone out and Oda can see the despair in them when you don’t find whoever you’re looking for. 

“I’m okay,” you say finally, nodding. “I’m trying to get to Tokyo. I have orientation today for grad school. I don’t like traveling alone.”

Oda tilts his head to the side, he takes a step closer to Ranpo than you as an experiment, watching as you immediately match his step, sticking close to him as you continue seeking out your ‘friends.’ You don’t seem like a threat, and his ability has yet to be triggered, but it wouldn’t be the first time underground organizations use civilians as decoys to set up traps for the Agency. He spares another look at Ranpo, knowing the man must’ve figured out whatever is going on, only to find him staring at you with a tight jaw and an uneasy expression.

“What school are you attending?” Oda asks in an attempt to calm your nerves and hopefully get some answers out of you. 

You look at him, a bit more clarity in your eyes and smile more steady as you say. “Waseda,” you say, brighter now, more relaxed. “Their school of political science.”

“You tryna go into politics?” Oda asks curiously.

You nod. “One day, hopefully,” you say with an easy smile before giving him your name. “What’s your name?”

“Oda Sakunosuke,” he greets. “Nice to meet you.”

“You’re heading to Tokyo too?” you ask curiously, and Oda doesn’t sense any ill intent behind the question so he answers.

“Yes,” he says. “Going there for work.” 

“Oh? What do you do for work?”

Oda pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully on the off-chance this is some sort of setup, before saying: “I’m trying to write a novel.”

You light up. “Really?” you ask, delighted. “That’s so impressive, what about?”

“… Humans. The human experience,” Oda answers, glancing back at Ranpo again with furrowed brows, but the man hardly budges, gaze pinned on you.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, the smile on your lips becomes a bit teasing. Oda finds his own lips twitching up in amusement. “What’s your take on the human experience then, Oda Sakunosuke? Will your story have a happy ending?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he tells you honestly, and then tilts his head to the side and asks curiously, “How would you end it?”

You click your tongue as if to chide him. “Shame on you, Oda Sakunosuke, trying to poach ideas from broke grad students,” you say, voice taking a dramatic lilt, but there’s a light to your eyes that hadn’t been there before, so Oda thinks his plan at least partially worked.

“Almost grad students,” Oda corrects, matching your tone as he lets his eyes drift around again, trying to pinpoint what exactly had you so frightened before running into him. “Take pity on an old man plagued with writer’s block, won’t you?”

“I suppose I can grace you with my boundless wisdom,” you quip, and Oda snorts to himself, eyes drifting back down to you as you grin up at him. After a few moments, your smile falls a bit. “I think a happy ending is nice to imagine… We like to indulge in such fantasies because real life is never so easy. I think if you’re going for an accurate telling of the human experience, a bittersweet ending would be more realistic.”

“Bittersweet?” Oda questions.

“Bittersweet,” you agree. “I think many people die content, or even happy… I don’t think many people die without regrets. So, I think a story on an accurate telling of the human experience should have a bittersweet ending to reflect that.”

“Hm,” Oda hums, considering you in a new light now, the way your eyes are a bit sadder, the smile on your lips soft on the edges. He finds himself far more into this conversation than he expected to be, so absorbed that he hardly even realized that the train has finally pulled into the station. “What about you, then? Do you think you’ll die with regrets?”

“Who’s to say?” You shrug with another bright smile. “I think if I were to die right now, I’d die with one regret. But I’d be happy.”

“Only one?”

“Only one,” you confirm. “I… wish I’d met someone sooner. That’s all. What about you, Oda Sakunosuke? If you died right now, would you die with regrets?”

“Countless,” Oda says quietly. “... But I think I would also be happy.”

“See.” You wink. “Bittersweet.”

Oda’s lips flicker up into a ghost of a smile, lips parting to speak, but suddenly someone is calling your name frantically, loudly from across the train platform. You light up, head twisting in that direction and Oda follows your gaze to where a young man with short orange hair is waving his hand, perched up on a garbage can, looking around for you.

“That’s one of my friends,” you say, looking relieved. “I’m going to head over to him. It was nice meeting you, Oda Sakunosuke.”

“Nice meeting you too,” he replies.

You toss him another wide smile before turning to leave, but before you can even take the first step, Ranpo finally moves, fingers curling around your wrist to stop you in place. Oda looks down at him, alarmed, and you look back, surprised.

“You should… be careful,” Ranpo tells you, more serious than Oda has ever seen him before, and Oda feels a sinking feeling in his gut as Ranpo lets go of your wrist.

You look a bit disturbed, but you nod. “I-I will. Thank you.”

“What was that?” Oda asks, voice low and concerned as he looks down at Ranpo, whose brows are still furrowed. He still looks uncertain, and Oda doesn’t think he’s ever seen Ranpo Edogawa uncertain before.

Dread weighs heavily on Oda’s chest, his gaze turns back to where you’ve started to quickly make your way across the platform along the yellow line in the direction of your friend, who has finally caught sight of you and is rushing toward you, looking too panicked for someone who’d just found someone they lost.

“Something is wrong,” Oda murmurs more to himself than Ranpo, and at once, he activates his ability.

The world slows and grays out around him, but his gaze remains focused on you. He watches. 

One second passes, you take another step forward, your friend is still too far away. 

Another second passes, another step forward. 

A third second, and something is shimmering right next to you, a gold circle to your left, swirling with patterns—an ability.

A fourth second passes, and you turn, eyes wide and fear painted on your face as a gloved hand darts from the circle and wraps around your wrist; your friend reaches down to his waistband, revealing the gun strapped to his side. 

A fifth second passes, and you’re gone. 

His ability fades away, leaving him back reeling in reality, ready to act on what he’d seen. He rushes forward, heart racing in his chest, and he can hear Ranpo giving chase after him.

One second passes—you’re still too far away, you’ve made it across half of the platform already, Oda knows he won’t get to you in time, but he tries anyway.

Another second passes—Ranpo is yelling for him, Oda ignores him. 

A third second passes—the swirling gold circle appears to your left, and Oda knows that it’s too late.

Oda Sakunosuke is fast, but this time, he is not fast enough.

Chuuya knows that this is his fault.

The sickening scene taking place on the screens set up in the executive meeting room has his stomach turning inside out. He has to manually force himself to breathe, slow and steady, because if he doesn’t, he won’t get any air to his lungs. Next to him, Kouyou stands stiffly, gaze trained on the damning video and on his other side, Piano Man looks resigned, head turned to the side, attention focused on the blacked out windows looking over the city. 

Chuuya can’t see Dazai’s expression from where he’s standing, and he’s glad for it. 

You’re sitting at a table with Dostoevsky. It’s a small, square table in an equally small, unassuming room. Tiled walls, a thick steel door, no windows—it’s an abandoned office room down in the lower floors of the metro, emptied out besides the table, two seats, and you and Dostoevsky.

A small room. Unassuming. Enclosed and suffocatingly confined. Cold and damp. There is no sun, no warmth, and no life.

Not a place where anyone should die, much less someone as bright as you.

“Ah, there we go!” Dostoevsky smiles as if this is all some big game to him and Chuuya’s temper spikes, blood simmering in his veins and eye twitching as he glares at the Russian. “The cameras should now be connected.”

Chuuya did not hold you in high regard for a long time. He thought you were a pretty face, but more than that, you were a distraction. You showed up one day and suddenly Dazai couldn’t focus on anything but you. He evaded important meetings, and the ones that he attended were spent either zoning out or tapping away at his phone talking to you. It left Chuuya as the one to pick up the slack, so yeah, he certainly did not hold you in high regard, and he’s not entirely sure when it began to change.

Or, maybe that’s a lie.

He thinks back to the day he ran into you coming out of the elevator, when you dragged him around half of the city looking for a very particular brand of white chocolate for whatever sugary concoction you wanted to make Dazai; and the way you pouted and begged and pleaded with him to try some when you make it for Dazai to the point that he wanted to agree, if Dazai wouldn’t have tried to blow his head off for intruding on his time with you. 

He thinks that’s when his view on you started to shift, because it’s not often that Chuuya is treated like an actual human being, a twenty-two year old with a love for fine wine and music, instead of the mafia executive he is, a weapon of war that can bring down nations. As irritated as he was having to take time out of his day to babysit Dazai’s new plaything, he found you made for good conversation and that it was nice talking about things other than missions, politics and violence. 

You like talking about music with him and you ramble a lot about conspiracy theories and history—he thinks he’s learned more about the classical era of Europe and the Sengoku period the past few weeks joining you on outings than he’s learned in his entire life. Chuuya thinks you might be the first real friend he’s made since the Flags. You have more life in you than anyone Chuuya has ever met before, and Chuuya thinks it’s fucking sick that you’ll be drained of it by the likes of a soulless bastard like Dostoevsky. 

Chuuya also thinks, again, that this is entirely his fault.

“I had a nice talk with your lover, Dazai,” Dostoevsky says with a facetious smile. “She’s quite enchanting. It’s a shame that she ended up with the likes of you.”

Chuuya thought he’d be able to make it in time. He really thought he did. He thought he’d be fast enough to get back before you took off with Albatross, Tachihara and Hirotsu; he thought he’d be able to drag you with him and Dazai, lock the two of you up in the most well-protected room in the headquarters to wait out the assault of Dostoevsky’s tripartite alliance; he can still hear the gunfire now as they bombard the lower floors of the building. Chuuya should be down there helping his subordinates but he can’t bring himself to move, staring at what his decision had caused with a heavy heart and more guilt than his mind can come to terms with. It was never his intention to leave you out there to die. 

He wouldn’t do that to you.

He wouldn’t do that to Dazai. No matter how much he can’t stand the asshole, he wouldn’t fucking do that.

“I have offered a deal to her, Dazai,” Dostoevsky muses, head tilted to the side as he looks up at the camera in the corner of the room, thin fingers wrapped neatly around your wrist. “A fair exchange. But I leave it in her hands, not yours. Either way, I will get what I want.”

How the hell does that work? 

Chuuya lets out a shaky breath, gaze flickering over to Kouyou, who stares at the screen with a tight expression, brows drawn together and lips cut downward. He can hardly bring himself to look at Dazai, but he forces himself to shift to the side, looking down to where Dazai is sitting in front of the wall of screens, eyes trained on where you’re sitting with Dostoevsky.

Dazai’s expression is eerily blank, more so than Chuuya has ever seen it before. It makes his throat swell, the air to his lungs catching in his windpipe. He’s seen Dazai distraught before—the night on the roof years ago when he was drunk and screaming at Chuuya to just let him jump. He’s seen Dazai upset before—a few months after his sixteenth birthday, before the Dragon’s Head Conflict commenced, when he returned to headquarters with an expression so haunted that Chuuya didn’t dare utter a single snarky word to him.

He’s never seen him like this before. Visible eye entirely void of life as if whatever part of him that had been reanimated by your arrival in his life has been killed off. As if he knows exactly what’s about to happen, as if he knows there’s no stopping it. But Chuuya can see the way the corner of Dazai is pinched, the way his face, while blank, is hard, and Chuuya knows Dazai well enough to know exactly what that means: that if there’s any chance of preventing this, Dazai is going to do whatever it takes.

“Fair exchange is a funny way of saying I’ll die either way,” you say softly. Your voice is bitter; you’re not looking at Dostoevsky or the camera, instead your gaze is set on the wall next to you, an unreadable expression on your face. 

Dostoevsky turns his attention back to you, eyes curious. “I am no liar, I gave you my word that you’ll leave this room alive, myshka,” Dostoevsky hums, lips curved up into an entertained smile. Chuuya’s eye twitches at the pet name. “Go on and tell Dazai what I ask for in exchange… I am quite curious to see how far he’s willing to go for you.”

How far? 

Even Chuuya knows the answer to that, and from the expression on Dostoevsky’s face, he must know the answer too.

Ah, Chuuya realizes, his own question now answered. How does that work? Dostoevsky tells you the deal, and you have to make the decision of whether or not to tell Dazai. If you tell Dazai, there’s no lengths he wouldn’t go to fulfill Dostoevsky’s demands if it means saving you. And Chuuya suddenly understands why Kouyou looks so grave, because there’s only one thing Dostoevsky wants: Yokohama and the Port Mafia out of his way. Dazai out of the way. 

Dazai would hand it all to him on a silver platter if it meant saving your life. Yokohama. The Port Mafia. He’d let Dostoevsky put a bullet through his head if it meant you’d get to live.

“Dazai,” Kouyou begins, and her voice wavers. Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kouyou’s voice waver in the seven years he’s known her. “You cannot-”

Kouyou doesn’t finish her sentence. Doesn’t need to. They all know what she’s going to say, and Chuuya doubts that Dazai is listening anyway. He looks at Kouyou from the corner of his eye and she meets his gaze, a heavy expression on her face.

“You gave me your word that I’d leave this room alive. What happens when I step outside?” you ask with a sigh, looking back over to meet Dostoevsky’s eyes. “You’ll get what you want from Dazai and kill me anyway.”

You look tired and Chuuya’s stomach weighs down with guilt again. God, what the fuck has he done? You were on your way to your fucking grad school orientation and Chuuya signed your goddamn death warrant. You had so much ahead of you. You never belonged in this shitty world, and an instinctual part of Chuuya wants to curse Dazai for it, for dragging you into this and putting you into this situation.

But even as the thought crosses his mind, he tosses it away, because how the fuck is he supposed to condemn Dazai for clinging to the only damn thing that makes him happy as if Chuuya doesn’t do the same? His gaze turns back down to Dazai, frowning when he sees that he’s no longer staring at the screen intently. He’s leaned back in his chair, still looking at the screen but his eyes are glazed over, as if he’s not fully present.

As if he’s given up.

“So meticulous,” Dostoevsky murmurs, he reaches to brush his knuckles against your cheek. The noise that Chuuya lets out is close to a snarl when he sees the way your lips tighten in disgust as you turn your face away from him only for him to pinch your chin between his fingers to force you to look at him. He glances down at Dazai, only to find that he’s hardly even reacted to what’s happening. “You are very intelligent… I would have loved to have a woman like you at my side.”

“People like you are fated to be alone, Fyodor Dostoevsky,” you reply, lips curved down as you stare at him. “What a terrible fate. I’d always prefer a short and fulfilling life than a long and solitary one.”

Your gaze draws back up to the camera as if you’re desperately trying to convey something to Dazai: I don’t regret this. If I had the choice, I’d do it all the same.

Chuuya doesn’t even think Dazai can understand it in the state he’s in.

Chuuya’s stomach twists and turns, he has to take a step away, breathing in a shuddered breath as he pulls his hat off to run his fingers through his hair. He presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down, but his ears are ringing and the black coffee he’d downed before heading over to the train station is threatening to come right up his throat.

And if you’re wrong? 

Dostoevsky’s hand drops from your face, but his other remains wrapped around your wrist. He smiles as if telling a joke that only he understands. “Maybe in another universe you and I can work together.”

Dazai jolts at the words and Chuuya looks at him again, watching the way he draws in a sharp, shuddered breath. Chuuya’s lips part. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to speak or force himself to breathe, but his eyes land on Dazai just as the man finally breaks.

If she dies because the dog thought himself smarter than the master?

It’s brief. His expression crumbles and he quietly wheezes for air, hand flying to his chest as if trying to claw his own heart out, as if his brain has only finally registered what was happening. Kouyou and Piano Man are too focused on you and Dostoevsky to notice, but Chuuya thinks if he stares any longer at the screen, he might fall apart. His expression smooths out again immediately after it shatters, his eye takes that distant look again, as if he’s totally separated himself from reality.

“Is that your decision then, myshka?” Dostoevsky asks, voice deceptively soft. Chuuya has to drag his eyes back to the screen, teeth grinding together when Dostoevsky’s hand leaves your wrist to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

To your credit, you don’t look scared and for a second, Chuuya doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing. Dazai would do anything for you, give up anything, you have to know that. All you have to do is say what Dostoevsky wants and Dazai will do it no matter the cost. The irrational part of him, the one riddled with guilt and regret, almost wants you to just say what Dostoevsky wants, tell them and maybe they can figure something out, buy enough time to get you out of there. 

(Another part of him, deep down, knows that it’s hopeless. With Dostoevsky’s hand in contact with you, your fate is sealed. No one will get there fast enough to get you away from him before he can trigger his ability.)

Chuuya realizes, a bit dully, maybe you do know that and maybe that’s exactly why you’re not saying anything. Whatever Dostoevsky wants of Dazai is not something that you can allow him to give up.

Chuuya also realizes, chest sinking, that Dazai probably knows you well enough to know this too. To know that you’d give up your life for his. He looks over at Dazai, the vacant look in his eye and the hopeless air about him. He knew this would happen the moment Chuuya showed back up on base, desperately trying to get him to go back to you.

A crash against the heavy metal door leading to the room that you and Dostoevsky are sitting in shocks Chuuya out of his thoughts, gaze snapping up as Dostoevsky lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“It appears our time is up,” Dostoevsky hums. “What a pity. I would have liked to talk with you more.”

What then, Chuuya?

Chuuya’s vision spins as Atsushi and Kyouka burst into the room you’re being held in. Atsushi, half-transformed, throws himself at you, trying to get you away from Dostoevsky. Kyouka, with her cell to her ear, commands Demon Snow to sever Dostoevsky’s hand from where he’s touching you, trying to sever the physical connection between the two of you before he can activate his ability. 

Behind Dostoevsky, a gold swirl appears, a hand reaching out to grab his arm.

For a moment, Chuuya’s chest swells with hope, breath catching as watches raptly.

And they do it. 

Dostoevsky’s expression twists as Demon Snow cuts through his elbow, severing his lower arm from the rest of his body, Atsushi’s arms wrap around you as he tackles you away from the Russian onto the ground. Dostoevsky is dragged backward into the gold swirl—Gogol, the teleportation ability—and Kyouka and Atsushi focus their attention on you.

He watches with bated breath, waiting as Atsushi fumbles to shift you into a more comfortable position. He leans forward, eyes a bit wild and nails digging into the palms of his hands.

Kyouka kneels next to Atsushi, blue eyes wide, and Atsushi’s expression crumbles as he finally turns you over in his lap. Chuuya’s breath slows, he takes a step back as he shakes his head. 

What then, Chuuya?

Blood stains the corner of your lips, eyes empty, body limp in Atsushi’s arms. No one is faster than the triggering of an ability. Chuuya knew this. How many people have tried to kill him only to be thwarted in a split second by Tainted Sorrow? Still, he had allowed the hope to claw its way up into his chest, clinging to the thinnest thread that maybe, just maybe, his decision won’t have cost you your life, and in an instant, that hope is stripped and Chuuya is forced to face the consequences of his actions. 

Next to Chuuya, Piano Man lets out a shaky breath, turning away from the screen and pacing over to the window. Kouyou makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, eyes sliding shut.

Chuuya’s eyes drag from the screen back down to Dazai. Dazai stares ahead blankly, eye so black and void of light that if Chuuya didn’t know any better, he’d think he was staring into the eye of a corpse. 

Dostoevsky might’ve been your executioner, but Chuuya had been the judge to impose the death sentence.

Onto you, and onto Dazai.

You thought that you would be scared of dying.

Your mind is distant and dazed as you fall backward to the ground, familiar hands wrap around one of your arms and your waist as you’re dragged away from Dostoevsky. You taste iron in your mouth, red tints the corner of your vision, you don’t feel any pain but from the way your limbs become numb and heavy, you know what’s happening.

Maybe you’re just in shock, mind unable to comprehend what’s happening, but you don’t think that’s it. You’d known what was going to happen the moment you were pulled through that ability into this room, the moment Fyodor Dostoevsky told you the only way you’d make it out of here alive is if Dazai offered his own life in exchange.

Dazai would’ve done it. You know he would have. He would’ve accepted the deal and laid his life down for yours in an instant, but you couldn’t let him do that. He’d face pushback from his executives, they might even lock him up to prevent him from following through, and then he’d have to live with the fact that he had the chance to save you but failed. 

You couldn’t force that choice on him.

Your vision blurs and tunnels, eyes fluttering shut, but your body jolts as someone flips you around, hazy gaze focusing in on someone kneeling next to you, whoever is holding you in his lap. Two vaguely familiar wide swirls of violet, gold, and blue hover above you and your surroundings start to bleed out, the white tiles of the walls around you and the two people who’d barged into the room disappear, the violets and golds and blues spread across your vision, melding into a sunrise painted across the early morning sky.

The hand on your body falls limply to the ground next to you, the tips of your fingers brushing through soft white sand. Your head tilts to the side, something warm trickling down your cheek from the corner of your eye. 

You let out a weak breath, your vision clouds red and for a second, you swear there’s a figure laying next to you—lips curved up into a small, sad smile, dark eyes soft as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair out of your face. Dazai wears tan instead of the black you’re used to, both eyes uncovered as admires you. You can feel the ghost of his touch against your skin, warm and familiar.

Osamu… 

You can hear the commotion around you, more people bursting into the room. You can feel your body weakening, but all you can think of is him.

Maybe in the next life.

Dazai doesn’t know where he is. Doesn’t know when he is. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t know who he’s with. Doesn’t know who he is.

Every step he takes, every second that passes, his surroundings become more and more indecipherable. He can hear the vague sounds of Chuuya, Kouyou and Piano Man talking around him but he can’t make out what they’re saying or what’s going on. He finds himself walking but he feels like he’s trudging through slush, as if time has slowed around him and he’s trying to impossibly push through it.

“Pull yourself together,” Piano Man murmurs as Dazai mindlessly moves forward, unsure of where he’s even being led to. 

Every time his eyes slide shut, he’s faced with the image of you in that room with Dostoevsky, the sight of his fingers on your skin. He turns to look at Piano Man and for a moment, he’s lost, wondering how a dead man is standing before him. His lips part to speak but no words leave them, the black walls fade into the vaguely familiar tan and brown walls of the Agency, the coat he wears lightens and Piano Man’s face morphs into Yosano Akiko’s as she tries to snap him out of the stunned stupor he’s left in after finding your body in your apartment. He’d figured out Christie’s plot, but he’d been too late, and his mind had been entirely unable to come to terms with it. Because Dazai never fails, everyone relies on him to know what to do but-

But when it comes to you he just can’t win. No matter how hard he tries, he’s never enough. He’s never quick enough. Never smart enough. Never enough. 

“...ey, hey, boss, are you even listening?” 

Dazai blinks, gaze focusing back on Piano Man and he notices that he’s in the elevator, heading down. Chuuya and Kouyou are watching him carefully but Chuuya doesn’t meet his eyes. Dazai realizes Piano Man must have said something—asked something—but he doesn’t know what.

“We’re heading down to the first floor,” Piano Man finally says again. “The onslaught from Tolstoy and Nabakov ended-” Of course it has, Dostoevsky got what he wanted. “Albatross and-Albatross and the others are on the way back… We must be there to meet them.”

Dazai doesn’t respond. Doesn’t think he’d be able to if he wanted to. His brain is slow, still hasn’t comprehended what happened, still doesn’t entirely know where he is. The pages of the Book keep piling around him, endless and suffocating. He jumps from one reality to the rest, each time seeing the same scene in different fonts. He sees Piano Man and Kouyou exchange a look with one another but Dazai’s gaze is already pointed ahead again, staring through the reflective surface of the elevator doors.

Dazai doesn’t even recognize himself.

They still talk around him but all of the words sound muffled and faraway, like he’s underwater and they’re speaking above the surface. As Dazai stares into the doors, he swears he can almost picture you standing next to him, tucked beneath his arm and leaning into his side as the two of you wait for the elevator to reach the first floor. You smile up at him, he watches it through the reflection, heart in his throat as you lean up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw and he swears he can feel the ghost of your lips, the warmth.

But then the elevator doors slide open and the illusion of you is shattered.

Dazai’s breath shakes as he forces himself forward but he’s careful to keep his expression flat, ignoring the lines of subordinates already awaiting his arrival. They kneel as he walks past but Dazai hardly takes notice of them, eyes trained ahead.

And then-

And then Dazai sees it.

Hirotsu is holding you, your body is limp and lifeless. Dazai stops dead in his tracks. You look small in his arms and Dazai feels bile rise to the back of his throat, threatening to burst from his lips. Even from a distance, he can see the blood staining the corners of your lips and eyes, can see the way one of your arms dangle loosely from your body, can see how you’ve been entirely drained of life by Dostoevsky.

He wants to move forward, wants to pull you in his arms and shield you from all of the prying eyes around you, hates the way everyone is staring at you, wants to scream and curse the gods above who play with human lives like they’re some sort of game, who are laughing at Dazai for thinking he could get away with defying fate.

Most of all, he’s tired, and he wants to be with you.

The crowds of subordinates who’ve gathered on the lower floor of the building whisper amongst themselves. Some of them, who havent seen you around the base with him, are trying to figure out who you are. Others, who know exactly who you are to Dazai, let out low murmurs as they watch Dazai carefully, waiting for some type of reaction from him. A few, likely those who’ve spoken to you personally, lower their heads in respect.

Dazai tries to make himself take another step forward, pull you away from Hirotsu into his arms, hold you close, stop them from taking you away, but his feet are rooted to the ground.

One voice rises above the whispering crowds.

“What the fuck?”

Dazai’s gaze slides slowly to the side, watching as a vaguely familiar figure pushes to the front of the crowd, walking in the direction of you and Hirotsu. He blinks slowly, not recognizing who it is until Chuuya and Piano Man start moving toward him, both with furrowed brows and concerned words.

Ah, he realizes. Iceman.

Dazai had called him back to headquarters from abroad—but why? The cogs in his mind move slowly as he tries to remember why he brought Iceman back, why the man is having such an adverse reaction to the sight of-

To the sight of you.

Dazai’s eye shifts back to you, all of the air pushes out from his lungs when he notices the way your head has fallen to the side. Your eyes are shut but your face is tilted toward him and you look so-

You look so dead.

Everything around Dazai begins to tunnel and crumble. The buildings around him blurting into indistinct blobs and all of the crowds of his subordinates melding into the background. Iceman’s arrival, Chuuya and Piano Man trying to settle him down, it all becomes white noise as Dazai stares at you blankly.

How did this happen?

He’d-

He’d done everything right, hadn’t he? He’d done everything to make sure you would be protected. He’d clawed his way to the position of boss, annihilated all of the Mafia’s enemies to ensure that Yokohama would be safe for you. He’d sacrificed everything, how did it still turn out like this?

The white noise, the buzz of people around him, it all slowly shifts to laughter. The sight of Hirotsu holding your body turns into Dazai—a different Dazai—hunched over your limp form screaming his throat raw in your apartment. It turns into him sprinting through knee deep water with Yosano Akiko at his heels to get to your lifeless form floating face down in the water of the same beach you met him at. It turns into Chuuya catapulting himself through the air, desperately trying to get to you as you fall because Dazai can do nothing but watch—he fails. It turns into Mori stepping out of the hospital room he was treating you in, Dazai can’t hear what he’s saying but he knows—then Mori turns into Fukuzawa, Fukuzawa into Ango, all the same grave expressions, all the same fate. 

It was never the Port Mafia’s enemies that were at fault for your death. Wasn’t Mimic or an affiliation with the Mafia, like it was for Odasaku. Wasn’t Dostoevsky. Wasn’t Christie.

It was Dazai.

Dazai is the reason you die in every universe. 

The only way for him to save you from your fate is to stay away from you, and he couldn’t even do that. The only chance for him to give you a normal life—a long life—squandered because of his own selfishness.

The laughter gets louder, more manic—they laughed at him when you stumbled into him at the bar, when he tried to stay away, when he gave in to meeting you again. They laugh louder now that things have played out exactly as they knew it would. Dazai danced along perfectly to their marionette strings, as they knew he would from the beginning.

Fate. 

Fatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefatefate.

The word that’s haunted him since he was fifteen years old tears apart his mind, claws open his rotted heart from the dark crevice it’s slipped into the past thirty minutes. His vision goes spotty and his head feels light. He knew better. He knew this would happen. He knew-

“That’s my sister.” Again, Iceman’s voice rises above the laughter, a broken gasp that jolts Dazai from his spiraling thoughts. “That’s my sister—what the fuck?”

Ah. Dazai suddenly remembers why he called Iceman back to headquarters. Remembers laying in bed with you a few mornings ago—you were in his arms, warm and happy and alive, and Dazai was excited, figured out the mystery that’s been plaguing him for years. He put together who your brother was, wanted to give you the chance to see him again. Wanted to do something good for you.

And now-

Iceman whirls around, eye wild and expression feral as he focuses on Dazai. Dazai doesn’t know what Chuuya and Piano Man told him, but whatever it was has the man unhinged as he pushes Piano Man hard out of the way to throw himself at Dazai.

“What did you do?” Iceman roars. “What did you do?”

He reaches for the gun at his side, pulls it out and clicks off the safety in a split second—quick and efficient, as expected of the Port Mafia’s best assassin. Around Dazai, other members of the mafia raise their guns in defense of the boss, Dazai only distantly has the mind to raise his hand to order them to lower their weapons.

Chuuya stops Iceman before he can steady the gun at Dazai’s head and pull the trigger. He wrangles the larger man to the ground, using his ability to keep him down, yelling at him to calm the fuck down and explain himself. Iceman clearly has no intention of doing that from the way he futilely tries to throw off Chuuya and go for his gun again.

Dazai watches absently until Kouyou ushers him back into the building, not even giving Dazai the chance to hold you one last time. His chest caves in as soon as you’re out of sight, breath weak and ragged. Kouyou pinches his arm hard.

“Pull yourself together, boy,” she warns. “You cannot let them see you weak.”

Dazai wishes that Iceman had pulled the trigger.

Iceman has never been a good brother. 

He was four years old when you came into his life, and when his mother tried to introduce him to his newborn sister, he’d turned his nose up and pouted, upset at no longer being the only child. 

He was nine years old when his mother died, sacrificing herself to save a child in Motomachi Shopping Center when a drunk driver barreled down the sidewalk. When you tried to cling to him and cry, he pushed you away to mourn by himself, angry and grieving.

He was eleven years old when his father started to see his mother in you, taking out the bitterness he felt for her decision on you with cruel words and crueler hands when he would come home drunk after a long night of gambling away all of his money. A good brother would have stepped in to protect his little sister, but Iceman chose to turn a cheek and plug his ears when you would curl in bed at night and cry.

He was thirteen years old when he came home to you physically hurt for the first time, blood trickling down from a split lip as you curled in the corner of your shared room. Iceman had already started involving himself with the underworld by the point, so it only took a few sniffles and your fingers curling around his wrist for him to stay up all night, waiting for his father to fall asleep so he could press a pillow to his face, smothering him to death and leaving the two of you homeless without a dollar to your name.

He was fifteen years old when he officially joined the Port Mafia, desperate to get a roof over your head. Sixteen when he killed his second man. You never asked questions when he came home covered in blood and wounds, even though you definitely should have. He lied and told you he’d joined an underground fighting ring to try to make some money for you. You took care of him in a way that he never did for you, patching up his wounds with an easy smile and tender hands.

He was eighteen when he met the rest of the Flags after making a name for himself as one of the Mafia’s best assassins. He stopped coming around as much, spending his time at bars with the Flags, afraid that one day you’d figure out what he’s been doing for money, afraid that you would start to see him as a monster instead of the brother you still loved for whatever god forsaken reason.

He was twenty when he cut you off. After his near death experience at the hands of Verlaine, Iceman realized his life was much too dangerous to keep you in it. To provide for you and give you the life you deserve, he had to abandon his name and leave you behind, otherwise you would forever be at risk of people trying to kill you to get to him.

The best thing Iceman ever did for you as an older brother was cutting you off to let you live a long, fulfilling life away from the dark. Away from him.

And for what?

Iceman sighs as he fumbles in his pocket for another cigarette, already on his second pack of the day. He tilts his head back against the tree he’s leaning against, the muddy ground staining his pants. He lights the cigarette and takes a long drag, tilting his head down as a heavy feeling sweeps over him.

And for what?

It’s been two and a half weeks since he came back to Yokohama.

Two and a half weeks since your death.

Your death, the words still make him sick to his stomach, make him feel as if the world is collapsing around you. Iceman had always been sure of the two of you, he’d be the one to go first. The thought of outliving you—his little sister, the one person in the world he’d sacrifice everything to protect—was never even an option in his mind.

He’s spent just about every waking hour with you, trying to make up for the times he didn’t while you were still alive. You’d always hated the dark; he used to bitch and complain when the two of you shared a bedroom because you couldn’t sleep without a night light, and now he feels sick to his stomach thinking of you stuck out here in the dirt alone and in the dark. 

The Flags have tried to drag him away, Lippmann pleading with him to come inside and sleep and Piano Man trying to coax him back with promises of drinks and fine food, but Iceman refused to budge. Chuuya sometimes joins him, brings a nice bottle of wine, cracks it open and after three glasses, starts choking over air, apologizing and begging for forgiveness—sometimes to Iceman, sometimes in front of your headstone. 

Iceman enjoys their company—he does—but he thinks he prefers to be alone with you.

Which, unfortunately, seems to be a rare occurrence.

He sighs as he hears leaves crunching on the path leading up to your grave, gaze drawing to the side. At first, he figures it must be Chuuya dragging himself back to your grave, ready for another round of drinks and regret, but he pauses when he recognizes the long black cloak and red scarf donning the figure making his way over to your grave.

His fingers twitch down to the gun holstered down to his side, resentment and anger simmering dangerously beneath the surface.

Dazai Osamu kneels in front of your grave for the first time since your death. He did not attend your funeral. Didn’t come to see you laid into the ground. Didn’t pay respects. He’s spent two and a half weeks holed up on the top floor of the centermost building of headquarters with only Chuuya and Kouyou as company. 

Iceman thinks he has some fucking nerve, being the reason that you’re six feet under and not even bothering to come see you.

His first reaction is to make himself known, rise to his feet and pull out his gun—an offense worthy of execution in the eyes of the rest of the Mafia, pulling a gun on its boss, but Iceman’s self-preservation was thrown out the window the moment he came back to headquarters to see you dead in Hirotsu’s arms and Dazai Osamu standing there like an emotionless statute as if he didn’t cause this.

But he hesitates when he sees the expression on Dazai’s face, lips trembling and visible eye glassy. Iceman doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boss in such a sorry state before—his bandages are yellowed and grimy as if he hasn’t changed them in weeks, his coat is wrinkled, scarf dirty, lips chapped and cracked. Dazai Osamu is a man that most people see as untouchable and unflappable, and even Iceman, riddled with grief and fury, can’t help but pause at the sight of him breaking.

“I thought I could stop it,” Dazai breathes out. Iceman startles a bit, irrationally thinking that the man is talking to him, but settles down when he realizes that he’s talking to you, eyes slid shut as he kneels before your headstone. “I tried so hard. I tried so hard to stop it.”

Iceman’s eyes lower at the sheer pain in Dazai’s voice, the hoarseness of grief that has his throat red and raw, has him stripped him bare to the bone. From where Iceman is sitting out of sight, he can see the way Dazai’s fingers are trembling in his lap, shoulders shaking.

“All of this was for you,” Dazai’s voice wavers as he speaks, cracking over his words. “All of it was for you-I don’t-what am I supposed to do now? Shit. What do I do? It’s all gone to waste, I knew it. I knew I shouldn’t have-”

The noise that escapes Dazai’s throat is more belonging of a wounded animal than of a human. He curls over at his waist, blunt nails digging into the marble of your headstone, forehead resting against the cool stone. 

Iceman squeezes his eyes shut, throat swollen, letting out a full body shiver at the sound. He forces himself to his feet, fingers enclosing around the grip of his gun, and makes his way over to where Dazai is kneeling. The man stiffens when he hears Iceman approach, straightening and tilting his head to the side to look at Iceman from the corner of his eye. His mouth dries a bit when he sees the tear streaking down Dazai’s pale skin.

“Are you here to kill me?” Dazai asks, voice raspy and throat sore. There’s a mocking edge to it that makes Iceman’s jaw click, as if Dazai is purposely trying to antagonize him. “Go on then, I left Chuuya behind. There’s no one to stop you this time.”

“You think you deserve to go see her already?” Iceman asks coldly.

He stares down at Dazai, watching as the facade cracks at Iceman’s words. The corner of Dazai’s lips twitch downward and his eye goes a bit hazy as it tracks back down to your headstone. He takes in another shuddered breath and Dazai’s shoulders finally slump over, lashes fluttering.

“I knew this would happen,” Dazai finally croaks out, voice weak and wavering. Iceman’s lips tightens at his words, flicking the safety off on his gun and pulling it from his holster. “I knew this would happen and I still sought her out.”

“Even a blind person could’ve seen how this would turn out,” Iceman spits out, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the back of Dazai’s head. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t react at all. A part of Iceman wonders if this is what he wants—to be put out of his misery. “This is on you.”

“I know,” Dazai says hoarsely. “... I know.”

Iceman knows that you loved Dazai Osamu for whatever fucked up reason. The same fucked up reason you probably still loved Iceman even after all of the bullshit that he did, and didn’t do, during your childhood. He forced Chuuya to get him the tape after he’d calmed down, watched the way you sat there with Dostoevsky, accepting your fate. Heard that you were given a choice, and the choice you made. He hadn’t been able to understand it at first—you’ve always been so full of life, excited for the future even at your lowest, he couldn’t fathom what could’ve possibly made you so accepting of death.

So he dug further, got Piano Man and Lippmann and Albatross roped up in his schemes. Heard the way you would act with Dazai, how happy you were and how happy he was. Forced Piano Man to get him tapes from around the base; he saw the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you. 

You loved Dazai Osamu, and Dazai Osamu—a man that everyone had been convinced was incapable of emotion, a demon without a heart or conscious—loved you.

He takes in the dark bag beneath Dazai’s tired eye, the glassiness and lack of life within them, the sickly pallor of his skin, and the dirtiness of his clothes. His nails bleed from where he dragged them against the marble of your headstone and he can see a murky redness staining his yellowed bandages, peeking out from where his coat rode up his arm.

Iceman has not been the only one grieving you.

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” Dazai finally rasps out. Less of a question, more of a beg, a far cry from the cold and brutal mafia boss that Iceman has come to know, and Iceman knows that Dazai Osamu died in the same moment you did, only a walking corpse remains in his place.

Iceman scoffs, holstering his gun. “Nah,” he says. “Whatever you’re doin’ to yourself. That’s worse than death.”

“…oss. Boss.”

Dazai’s gaze drags from the photo on his desk to where Chuuya has entered his office, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Chuuya to say whatever he came here to say. Chuuya hesitates and Dazai’s jaw tightens in annoyance. He’s been like this since you-

For three and a half weeks. He’s been like this for three and a half weeks. Constantly hovering, afraid to leave Dazai alone for too long. If Chuuya isn’t hovering, Kouyou is. Dazai can hardly get a moment alone and it’s becoming increasingly hard to continue the preparation for phase five, the final part of his plan. Everything is set in place, if all goes according to plan, tomorrow morning will be the long awaited moment. 

In a little over twelve hours, he’ll be able to be with you again at last.

Four hours until Atsushi is to go to the Armed Detective Agency with the files that will antagonize Akutagawa into attacking the Mafia headquarters. Dazai expects that by three in the morning, the Agency would have managed to fully infiltrate the building, and Atsushi and Akutagawa will be clashing on the roof of the headquarters. 

By dawn, it’ll be time.

But one major obstacle remains. 

Dazai’s gaze draws back to Chuuya, who’s still standing in the door of his office, becoming increasingly more irritated by Dazai’s lack of a response. As long as Chuuya is around, Dazai is going to have trouble following through with the final step. The executive will do whatever it takes to prevent Dazai’s death, so Dazai needs to get him out of the way.

“Chuuya,” Dazai hums, “Wh-”

“We’ve captured Gogol.”

Dazai halts, fingers pausing from where they’d been thrumming against the desk as he thought. His gaze sharpens as he tilts his head to the side, “Is that so?”

Gogol. Gogol. The one who captured you, handed you to Dostoevsky on a silver platter. Dazai might’ve been the cause of your-

Dazai might’ve been the one at fault for all of this, but that doesn’t mean he can let your executioners get off scot-free. He rises to his feet, the pads of his fingers pressing into the dark wood of his desk. For a moment, he doesn’t move, his ears ring and his eyes slide shut. Dazai didn’t think he’d get the chance to handle either of them—he’d resigned himself to accepting that he would have to forfeit personal vengeance to ensure that at least Odasaku will be able to live out his life in this world.

But now…

From the corner of his eye, Dazai swears he can see you barge into his office from his apartment, a wild smile on your face as you wave around the TV remote, claiming you found a good movie for the two of you to watch. It’s only for a split second, but Dazai’s heart leaps from his throat, breath catching. He hasn’t dared step foot in the apartment since… everything happened—it’s too big now, too empty. Your coffee mug still sits on his kitchen table, clothes strewn across his room from where you’d been having a fit trying to find the perfect outfit for orientation.

“Dazai.”

Chuuya speaks and the mirage of you is gone. Dazai lets out a heavy breath before shaking his head and making his way toward Chuuya. Neither of them speak again as they make their way into the elevator—they’ve hardly had a full conversation with one another since… since Chuuya chose to disobey orders—heading down to the belly of the headquarters where Gogol will be held. Dazai’s mind spins, lashes fluttering as he thinks.

He knew that Dostoevsky would be well out of reach, that he would have to leave your justice for when the Russian makes his real move in the hands of Odasaku, Akutagawa and the Agency, in the hands of Chuuya, Iceman and Atsushi. There’s no way that Dazai would be able to get his hands on the man in a timely manner, and Dazai can’t risk being in this world any longer than he’s already been. The longer he remains, the more Odasaku is at risk of meeting the same fate you did, and then all Dazai has done and sacrificed over the past seven years would be for nought. The only chance he had to protect the two of you squandered because of his own selfishness and incapability.

But Gogol. He hadn’t dared hope—Dazai lost any semblance of hope the moment he saw Chuuya show up at the Port Mafia headquarters—but he couldn’t help but want.

Kouyou and Piano Man are already waiting in the torture chambers when Dazai and Chuuya finally arrive. Gogol has silver shackles around his wrists, military-grade ability nullifying cuffs that the Mafia had stolen from a government shipment a few months back, and when he sees Dazai, he laughs wildly as if he’s just been told a hilarious joke.

“It’s really you,” Gogol cackles. “Dostoy thought for sure you’d have offed yourself by now.”

Dazai hums, but otherwise doesn’t react to the words. He supposes that they’re not too off the mark, Gogol is only unlucky in that he managed to get himself captured the day before it’s meant to take place.

“Are you going to kill me?” Gogol coos. “Avenge your pretty little thing? Not many people manage to catch Dostoy’s attention, y’know? I was so curious about her.”

Dazai tilts his head to the side and smiles thinly, a cold one that makes Gogol look impossibly more entertained.

“I hear that you enjoy freedom,” Dazai says more to himself than to Gogol, but finds a bit of sadistic pleasure in the way Gogol hesitates. “What makes you think I’d ever give you the mercy of death? The ultimate freedom?”

Gogol does not respond, so Dazai continues, “So long as you live—and you will live—you’ll never take another breath of fresh air or feel the wind against your skin ever again. My men will ensure you live to a ripe old age. They will feed you when you try to starve yourself, force water down your throat when you refuse to drink, they’ll heal you when you try to kill yourself to free yourself of this prison. For the rest of your life, until you rot of old age, you’ll be caged in the basement of this building. A bird clipped of its wings, trapped forever behind gilded bars… I think that’s quite the fitting fate for you.”

Dazai relishes in the way that Gogol freezes at his words, but even that is not enough to heal the gaping wound in his chest caused by your absence. The pleasure is hollow, like the hole you left in him. Dazai is so tired, he just wants to get back to his office so he can finish finalizing the last step for the final phase.

He just wants to be with you.

Dazai turns to leave, motioning for Chuuya to join him, but as soon as he turns his back, Gogol is speaking again, letting out another manic laugh: “Aren’t you curious as to what the deal was? I can tell you.”

Dazai stills, Gogol laughs louder. 

“It was a life for a life. Your life for hers. I thought Dostoy was crazy for it, I mean, who would think a random girl’s life would be equal to that of the boss of the Port Mafia,” Gogol snickers. “But looking at you now?” 

Dazai’s jaw tightens, he looks over his shoulder as Gogol doubles over laughing and then says quietly, “Her life was worth ten of mine.”

He doesn’t hesitate this time as he walks back toward the elevator, ignoring the way Gogol howls with laughter even as Piano Man has his men drag Gogol back into the most secure cell in the Mafia headquarters. Chuuya follows behind Dazai dutifully, and it’s only when they reenter the elevator does he finally speak.

“You sure you don’t just want him killed?” Chuuya asks, voice a bit stunted and awkward.

Dazai doesn’t respond. “I have a mission for you.”

“Hah?” Chuuya demands. “Now? What’re you talking about?” 

“A meeting with Goldoni of the Family in Rome, he’s insistent that it’s done in person. It’s essential that it takes place as soon as possible. I’ve booked a flight for you, it leaves in two hours.”

“Two hours?” Chuuya hisses. “What are you planning, Dazai?”

Dazai doesn’t respond again. Instead, he turns his head to the side, looking at Chuuya dead on. “That’s a direct order, Chuuya.”

Chuuya draws back as if he’s been slapped, but he doesn’t speak up after that, and Dazai knows that he’s won. By the time Chuuya lands in Rome, everything will be over—the last step of the plan will be complete. His eyes flutter shut as he leans back against the wall of the elevator; he feels a type of contentedness that he hasn’t felt since he watched you drive off with Albatross, Hirotsu, and Tachihara.

Soon, he sighs to himself softly, eyes reopening to focus on his reflection. He swears he can see you again, feel the ghost of your touch against his skin as your fingers lace with his. All he has left to do is talk to Odasaku, and then he can be with you again. 

We can watch one last sunrise together.

“I had someone once, y’know?” Dazai Osamu says, expression distorted and eyes distant, drawing to invisible figures sitting at the stools with them. Oda stares curiously, watching as he opens and closes his mouth, as if trying to figure out what to say. “It was hard. Without you and her, everything was so much harder. I tried so hard to do things right, to protect this world; I did what I could, but I couldn’t stay away from her.”

Dazai’s words disappear with his ragged breathing, dozens of emotions crossing over his face as he stares at his lap. Oda doesn’t speak, trying to put together whatever piece he’s missing—figure out who this her is that Dazai is referring to so that he can understand what’s going on. He keeps his gun steady, pointed at the boss of the Port Mafia in case this whole thing turns out to be a trap even if he’s slowly starting to doubt it.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to her,” Dazai says airly, talking more to himself than to Oda. “She said she’d see me later. Told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back. Do you think she knew, Odasaku?” 

The man in question chooses his words carefully when Dazai looks at him, black eye wide and imploring, much like a child seeking out advice from a trusted adult. After a few moments, Oda finally says, “Women are a lot more intuitive than men. If she said it, I’m sure she knew you felt the same.”

Dazai lets out a quiet laugh, a soft smile on his lips and a fond, but faraway expression on his face. “You always know what to say, Odasaku,” he murmurs softly, saying that odd nickname again. Oda frowns, but Dazai only continues. “She was good. A lot better than me… Deserved better than me. She was so smart, Odasaku, I think you would’ve liked her. She got into one of the best grad schools in the country, y’know? Was on her way to orientation when-”

Dazai stops talking suddenly, takes in a sharp and stunted breath, eye going a bit wild as if he can’t even force out the words. Oda is suddenly frowning, recognition sparking in his head as he remembers you, the sharp girl from the train station that he’d failed to save; the one who's been haunting his mind since the moment that golden swirl appeared and dragged you away. Ranpo had deduced it was mafia business rather quickly, but Oda couldn’t convince himself of it because he couldn’t figure out how someone like you was affiliated with the mafia.

This… It would make sense, wouldn’t it? Still, Oda couldn’t imagine you with someone like the man sitting before him, or maybe he could, he reconsiders, watching the adoring expression that paints the mafia boss’s face as he talks about you, the smile on his lips and the enamored look in his eye, the pride. Oda doesn’t think he’s ever seen a man look so entirely lovesick before.

Dazai looks at him curiously, must have caught the spark of recognition on his face. “Do you know her?”

Oda pauses, trying to figure out what to say. He doesn’t know if he should admit to seeing you in the moments before you were killed; Dazai Osamu is clearly not stable, fickle and capricious with his emotions, Oda worries that the mafia boss might abruptly turn on him, become hostile when he realizes Oda could have saved her but failed. 

“You did,” Dazai breathes out, excited suddenly, eye lit up like a child who has been told Christmas is coming early. “You knew her, you did, didn’t you? How did you meet? Wasn’t she incredible? Tell me.”

Oda inhales slowly, testing the words on his tongue before he says: “... I met her at the train station… that day.” Dazai’s smile wobbles at the edges, a glassy look in his eye like he’s looking right through Oda. Oda continues speaking quickly, “She was brilliant. She gave me a good idea on how to end the book I’ve been writing.”

Dazai’s smile softens, the childish appearance disappears as he looks down at his drink. “Will you use it?”

Oda responds honestly, “I think I will.”

Dazai looks as if he’s been given a precious gift and for a moment, Oda hesitates, gaze lingering on the expression that is somehow both sorrowful and content at the same time.

“It’s almost dawn, isn’t it?” Dazai says, a bit distantly. Oda watches carefully as an unfocused look clouds Dazai’s black eye, his head turning to look out the window of the bar. “She loved sunrises… I promised her we would watch one more together.”

The sun breaks the horizon in the distance, Dazai smiles wistfully as the colors spread across the morning sky. Endless pink clouds dance in the dawn, orange paints the skies; he stands at the edge of the roof where you sat with him that first morning, leaning your head on his shoulder as you watch all of the shapes the clouds make.

“Doesn’t that one look like a cat?”

Dazai hums in agreement as his gaze traces the sky; he’s never been able to see all of the figures you point out in the clouds, but he likes listening to you talk. Sometimes, you’d spin stories as you rest on his chest, and he’d doze off to the sound of your voice. He wants to look down to where you’d normally be sitting, but he’s afraid that if he looks, he’ll find you disappointed—sad eyes staring at him as if you know what he’s about to do. 

Worse, he’s scared that if he looks, you won’t be there.

Distantly, he can hear Atsushi and Akutagawa still arguing with one another, shouting questions at Dazai, but it all sounds distant and muffled—he couldn’t make out the words if he tried. He’s hyper focused on the sound of your voice in the billowing wind; he can almost imagine that each brush of the gusts against his skin is your touch.

He waits, even as he hears Atsushi creeping toward him, trying to get to him before he lets himself fall over the edge. He promised you one last sunrise, and it would be remiss of him to not stay long enough for you to watch your favorite part.

“She loved sunrises,” Dazai repeats again, this time for Atsushi and Akutagawa to hear. Atsushi halts at the words and he can hear a wavering ‘boss’ escape Atsushi’s lips. He closes his eyes and he can picture you in front of him, a soft expression on your face, lips curved up, and a dreamy smile tugs at his lips. “I’ve waited for this moment so long. I’m pleased, I really am… I just wish things had turned out differently. I wanted her to live, and I wanted to read his novel when he finished it, but I guess what I want doesn’t matter anymore… It’s enough to know that they were able to meet here.”

“Please wait,” Atsushi cries out, and Dazai can hear him moving again, stumbling as he tries to get closer. “Dazai-san, wait!”

“Atsushi-kun, Akutagawa-kun,” Dazai says. He opens his eyes again, watching as the sun finally crosses the horizon in its entirety, basking the world in an ethereal morning glow. His breath catches, and Dazai sees you again standing before him, haloed by the light. He reaches out hesitantly, but draws his hand back before his fingers can graze you, not wanting to taint you with his touch. “I’ll leave the rest to you.”

Dazai takes a step forward closer to you. He ignores Atsushi’s screams and Akutagawa’s shout. His eyes slide shut as he falls, the wind whistling in his ears and ripping the air from his lungs, but Dazai feels at peace for the first time in weeks. A smile curls to his lips, he swears that he feels your arms wrap around his waist, the familiar weight of your head resting on his chest. 

Dazai hopes, maybe a bit irrationally, that there might be a universe out there that he missed, one where the two of you are able to live out your lives. Maybe if he’s lucky, Odasaku will be around too. He’ll have finished the novel with your help, just like in this universe; and Dazai will pout and whine whenever you push him out of the room to brainstorm with the older man, but he’ll always smile as soon as he’s out of sight, content, happy. He’ll get to read the novel once it’s published—you refuse to let him get any peeks until it’s done and you yell at him and Odasaku when Dazai tries to guilt him into showing him it—and he’ll get to be with you.

He’ll get to be with you.

Find me again. Next time, I’ll make it right. 

I promise.

GUYSSSSSS WATERLOO IS OVER I'M ACTUALLY GOING TO CRY. this series has been my baby for so long i don't even know what i'm going to do with myself now that it's over. :(

some notes to share with u guys:

fyodor's ability. SIGH. the past few chapters fucked up my plans, so we're going to imagine that that his ability is still the kill on touch for the sake of my sanity. or maybe he used someone else's ability to kill her. who knows. i had this scene set in mind from waterloo day one so i didn't want to change it.

THE ODASAKU-READER CONVERSATION WAS ACTUALLY SO ANTICIPATED, i had the idea from side a when dazai chose to bring her to his grave, and then i was like ... wait, what if in side b... and i think it's a neat tie in to the beast movie too, because if i rmr correctly, he sought out fyodor later on and i think witnessing reader's capture & not being able to prevent her would give him even more of a reason to go after the man.

uu!chuuya hurts my heart truly. he really did care sm about reader the more he got to know her, and he blamed himself so much for her death. and then dazai uses the fact that he disobeyed orders and got her killed against him to make him leave so that dazai can kill himself. poor man will never not blame himself for everything

ICEMAN AS READER'S BROTHER. look, i know a lot of you wanted odasaku but it just didn't fit. she would've recognized his name in side a

badlands!reader -> i fear she is dead and gone, as you all probably have come to terms with by now at the end of the uu. but i want to add in HOW she dies because it's touched on in this chapter & i posted an ask about it a few weeks ago.

in badlands universe, fyodor isn't actually the one to kill reader, it's agatha christie when the order of the clocktower finally makes their move on yokohama for the book. for this, i also have to get into christie and what i think her ability might be - obviously we know it's based on "and then there were none" which is the mystery novel that involves 10 people w various accusations against them being killed/dying according to a nursery rhyme. i dont know exactly how i want the ability to be executed, but i know for the purposes of the fic that involves 10 ppl dying in various ways according to how they died in the book. christie targets various ppl that have been close to the agency/pm and reader is one of them. so over the course of 10 hours, the 10 people start dying. it takes to the 5th hour for them to realize that this is an ability user and not coincidences because by that point 2 ppl affiliated with the pm and 2 ppl that have close ties with the ada die and the two organizations approach each other about it, and obviously ranpo figures out during that meeting that it's an ability targeting ppl affiliated with both organizations. and that's when dazai starts getting a really bad feeling, tries to call her but she doesn't pick up, and then ends up ditching the meeting to go find her but </333 he doesn't get to her in time. her death is the death on the 5th hour and it parallels emily brent from the book: injected with cyanide after drinking poisoned coffee. dazai finds her in their apartment </3 he is too late to save her.

also a fun side note about badlands: reader and dazai were, in fact, engaged.

anyways, i love you all, thanks for sticking along the ride with me

(。♡ ‿ ♡。)

[fastandcarlos]

He Takes Care Of You On Your Period : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

: ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

Lots of cuddles are on the menu whenever you’re on your period, Max never leaves your side, making sure that he holds you as best as he can to take away the pain. He’s incredibly attentive at the best of times but he takes extra care during your time of the month, keeping things slow and moving as calmly as he can to protect your body. Need a squeeze? He’s there. Tummy need massaging? He’s by your side before you even finish asking him. ‘I’ll do whatever I can to make you feel better,’ he repeatedly tells you, knowing that all the pain that you go through is never truly your fault.

: ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Treats, treats and more treats come your way from Lando whenever you’re on your period. He’s still a little lost sometimes as to what the right thing to do is, however one thing he does know that can solve most situations is chocolate – so that’s what he does. Lando brings the comfort to help you relax, he finds your favourite treats, sets up your living room so its nice and cosy and finds the cheesiest film that he can to send your hormones into overdrive – although secretly he loves making you cry at a film so he can be there to wipe away your tears.

: ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

Bed is the only place Charles will let you be when you’re on your period, he’s there for you whenever you need him. It kills him seeing you in so much pain so he encourages you to rest as much as you can. ‘What do you want?’ He’ll question as soon as he sees you moving, leaping up to help you out. If he could take away the pain, he would in a heartbeat, so instead Charles tries to give you as easy a life as possible whilst you’re suffering, sneaking into bed for a cuddle with you whenever he finds himself with five minutes to himself too.

: ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

He’s practically glued to your side when you’re on your period, particularly if you’re visiting work with him too. Carlos likes to make use of the extra benefits of being a driver, giving you a comfy bed to lay down on or sneaking into the hospitality lounge to boil a kettle so that he can fix you up a hot water bottle. ‘Just for you,’ he’ll sweetly smile down at you, placing the bottle to the exact spot that you point to, showing him where it hurts. Gently, Carlos tends to then sit beside you, letting you rest into his side.

: ̗̀➛ George Russell

King of supplies is the title you charmingly gave George the first time you were on your period, and ever since then, he’s lived up to his title. He can tell by your voice alone when your period has arrived, making the call to the shop to get everything you need. He doesn’t care about the stares (and sometimes the photos!) as long as he’s taking care of his girl that’s what matters the most. His cupboards are full of sweets, pads, fresh pyjamas, everything that you could ever need to make sure your period comes and goes as smoothly as possible.

: ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

He’s almost like a mind reader when you’re on your period, Lewis knows exactly what you want before you even do. After a long day at work, all you want to do is rest with your cramps, and as you walk through the door, you can see the steam coming from the bathroom door. A proud Lewis will stand and smile as you enter, ‘welcome home baby,’ he’d whisper every time, showing you his handiwork. A soothing bath, candles lit, gentle music in the background, everything you’d ever need to take your mind off of your sore tummy for a while.

: ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

He’s the sweetest soul when it comes to your period, all of Daniel’s attention is on you and the things he can do to help you. Daniel treats you like the most delicate thing in the world, cuddling you so tightly you can think about nothing else but his strong arms holding onto you, or telling you a funny joke to make you smile again. You’re sure if you look close enough you can actually see his heartbreaking when he watches you in pain, but secretly you somewhat enjoy your periods as it makes you the centre of his universe for a few days.

: ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

He was the perfect pillow at the best of times, but especially during your period, Logan was exactly what you needed. He dropped everything to hold you into his side carefully, running his hand gently against your stomach. ‘Are you comfy?’ Logan would whisper down to you every few minutes, pressing a kiss against the top of your head as soon as you hummed in reply to him. Despite how busy he was, he’d lay with you for hours in the hope that it would make you feel better, doing whatever he could to make your period that little more bearable.

: ̗̀➛ Alex Albon

All other plans are cancelled for Alex when you’re on your period, you are his priority the moment he sees you suffering. Despite you protesting that you’re absolutely fine, Alex refuses to believe it. Whilst you’re still in bed he darts to the shop to make sure that he’s got everything that the two of you will need for the day before joining you in bed as you begin to wake. It’s where you both stay for most of the day, with Alex not leaving your side, paying attention to everything and being an absolute dream taking care of you.

: ̗̀➛ Lance Stroll

You barely had time to breathe with Lance around when you were around, he was on your case all the time. If you were ready for some tablets to take away the pain, Lance would be there with them and a glass of water, or if you needed your hot water filling, he’d take it as soon as it felt too cold to him. Sometimes you forgot he was your boyfriend with how caring Lance was towards you, he was terrified that something would cause you pain so he wanted to be there to fix anything that he could for you straight away.

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[gojosatorubrainrot]

Scars don't define you💫

Summary: Gojo starts to feel insecure about your love for him because of his scars

Feat: Gojo Satoru x reader

Content: fluff, mentions of Gojo vs Sukuna fight, reassuring, body insecurities, husband!Gojo x Wife!Reader. Ch 261 doesn't exist lol

Wc: 1121

Author's note: Hi!! I've never thought I will ever be doing this but here we are! Encouraged by my gojo friends in discord to continue this drabble🥰 Sorry in advanced for my poor grammar, English is not my first language 🫡

The Shinjuku incident meant a reborn for the the strongest sorcerer, and you, his wife as well. You almost lost the love of your life by the hands of the King of Curses. At first, you thought everything was over when you saw him laying down on the floor, his lifeless body starting to be covered by the heavy snow storm that had began to fall minutes earlier.

You felt useless, after all, you were a non sorcerer, so,as a civilian, you didn't to have another choice than staying where Shoko and the others were watching the battle being broadcasted.

But its been a long time since that jumpscare and you thanked every existent God and also Shoko for bringing your reason of living back to your arms.

Satoru and you both were laying in bed together, you are running your fingers along his scarred face; each fingertips of yours feeling every single injury of his skin.

As you continue with your doing,he closes his eyes at the softness of your sweet touch, at first, he enjoys it a lot, he always loved the way you did it, always being careful as if he was a glass meant to break, but fear set up on his mind;he thought you hated his scars, that you despise them and  those marks ruined his pretty face, that you wouldn't love him anymore and, eventually, you would leave him alone as everyone did during his life, but this time, he wouldn't have a reason of living because you are his everything.

He doesn't even want to think how a life without in it would be, how alone he would feel again just like he did after Suguru's departure.

When that event occurred, when he was ordered to kill his best friend, he has never felt so useless as a sorcerer, but most of all, as a human being, so that was the reason he chose to stay alone for the rest of his days, to prevent someone from getting hurt by the mere fact of being involved with him. That was his idea until he met you at his favorite kikufuku store. He didn't believe in love at the first sight until he met you nor how does it feel to be in love until you.

you, his everything

He was afraid of losing you again, but now it was because of his appearance, he hated those scars because that meant you won't call him pretty angel or pretty face ever again. On the other hand, they were his reminder of a second opportunity, an opportunity he would take advantage of. His second chance to make things right and spend as much time as he could with you: not spending nights working or on mission trips, only with you, his home.

Now he is debating if telling you or not about his insecurity with his scarred skin, because he thinks you would laugh at this and ignore him, but call him silly for thinking that.

As he thinks about that, he sits up, preparing to get his shirt on. You can see how the mood changed, how an intimate moment filled with love and adoration became one filled with insecurities and non spoken words. He is looking for his shirt to put it on and leave the bedroom towards the balcony, so he can spare his mind off a little bit.

You wonder why he was feeling troubled and why he decided to ignore you and not talking with you as he has always done before. You are hesitant about ask him or not, you always wanted to give Satoru his space, you always respected that because after some time, he will come to you and tell you everything between thousands and thousands sorry for not telling you before.

All you can see now is his scarred back, and your intuition is screaming at you to do something so he could open himself up to you. After few seconds, an idea popped up in your mind; while satoru has his head between his hands, you approached to him slowly trying to not get noticed.

Satoru, who was lost in thoughts, suddenly felt your plump and soft lips along his scared back, giving it small pecs and smooches, replacing your lips with your small fingers tracing every single scar. He didn't understand what you were doing so he let you do so. Suddenly,he feels something he has only felt with you and you only: loved, adored, cherished, he was seen as a human, not a pretty face as he has been called few times, the strongest weapon for the jujutsu society, he was Satoru Gojo for you, your Toru.

He turned his head to where you were tracing your fingers and stared at you: you were focused and determined to make him feel alive again.

His small chuckle made you look up and meet those blue eyes you fell in love with many years ago;

"Hi sweets" he whispered without looking away" What are you doing?"

"Hi Toru" you giggled at that nickname he gave you only when you both were in an intimate moment "Nothing, just admiring your beauty" you responded never looking away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Nothing about me is beautiful, princess" he said defeated. "Look at me" he pointed at his scarred skin, despising it, hating it.

"I'm looking at you, Toru. I'm always looking at you and all I see it's the prettiest, the most caring, loving man that I've ever met" you said putting his face in between your hands "I love you,Toru. If you ever think those scars will stop me from loving you, I must tell you don't me well. These scars are telling me that you are here" you give him a kiss in the tip of his pinky nose "alive, with me in our home"

After yours words, Satoru’s eyes immediately fill with tears, but before you notice, he closes his eyes to stop them and leans his head to your warm and reassuring touch, a warm feeling inside his chest arises.

He feels so grateful with you, you are his everything.You stopped caressing him at the moment he opens his eyes, blue like the ocean itself "I love you, angel" he says at the same time you started caressing the scar across his cheek.

"I love you too, Satoru and remember that you can tell me any trouble or inconvenience you are living through, okay? I'll always love you until my last breath" you said finishing the sentence with a quick kiss, which is immediately reciprocated 

With this Satoru knew that he would never feel alone again.

[alchemistc]

i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

[latenightdaydreams]

Recruit who openly shows interest in Colonel König. Poor guy doesn't know what to do with this bright-eyed, eager to please recruit who openly says to Horangi and Nikto they'd gladly sit on his lap all day if he'd let them.

I just wanna give best boy so love

Baby girl König deserves a soft girl that goes out of her way to care for him💖

Love At First Sight (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, love, fluff, minor dirtiness

1.0k word count

😍

.

.

The first time König saw you was when he was walking to his office. You walked past him and gazed up at him as if cupid struck you with his bow and arrow. You stopped walking and waved to him. König looked around and realized you meant him. He raised his giant hand and waved back to you. The mask on his face hid his confusion.

Later that day, when König went to get himself a coffee from the break room, he saw you there. You turned and smiled brightly up at him again.

“Hello Colonel.”

“Hallo.” He walked past you to the coffee machine.

“How are you doing?”

She’s really trying to make small talk with me? “I’m doing well. You?”

“I’m doing great. I just wanted to say you have really beautiful eyes. They look like a summer sky.”

He stopped what he was doing and just looked at you. “Oh, Danke.”

“Do you need me to make your coffee for you? I don’t mind. I’m on break right now.”

“I—” He looked down at the cup not even halfway filled with coffee.

You slowly take the cup from his hand, your soft delicate flesh coming in contact with his. König looks down at you and feels his heart skip a beat. He steps back slightly to give you room, watching in amazement.

Ever since that day, he seems to see you everywhere. You’re always smiling brightly at him and eager to talk to him. Confusion consumes him. Do you like him? No, you’re too sweet; especially for him. Then today he sees you talking to his best friend Horangi and Nikto. He hangs back, wanting to see if you’re speaking about him. Yes, you are.

“So, he’s single?” Your voice is so hopeful.

“Uh, yeah. The dude is so awkward.” Nikto says. König narrows his eyes.

“He is a good guy.” Horangi defends him.

“I feel like he just needs someone soft to love him.” Horangi and Nikto look at each other and then back at you.

“When he has free time. He’s always doing paperwork.”

“I’d sit on his lap all day then.”

König could feel his ears burning as he heard you say that. So, do you like him?

“Well, his birthday is coming up soon. Maybe give the poor guy a lap dance.” Nikto says, and Horangi laughs. This gives you an idea, though.

“What’s his favorite cake flavor?”

“I- I don’t know.” Horangi admits feeling a little bad.

“Wow, what a great friend,” Nikto nudges him.

König walks away, his heart beating in his ears as he rushes to his office. You see him walk past, your heart fluttering in your chest, and you imagine being held by him.

A week passes and now it’s König’s birthday week. He goes about his day as usual, hoping slightly that you’ll do something for him, but he doesn’t hold his breath. That was until there was a knock at the door. He stands and walks over.

Opening the door, he looks down and sees you with a handful of things. The bags are not festive like he expected from you.

“I came incognito just in case you don’t want people to know about your birthday.” You giggle as you speak.

A smile tugs at his lips as he hears that. The fact you considered his privacy makes him feel truly seen by you. “Come in, please.”

König steps aside and you enter, placing the things on his desk. You place the two gift bags down and then open the Tupperware to show 24 cupcakes. He looks at them and then up at you. The look in his eyes softened. No one has celebrated him since his mom passed away seven years ago.

“I don’t know what your favorite flavor is, so there is white, chocolate, red velvet, strawberry, lemon, and carrot cake.” You bite your lower lip and gaze up at him. What you wouldn’t give to see his face and kiss his lips.

“That’s…a lot of work for just me.”

“You deserve it.”

König looks away from you, not wanting you to see how vulnerable he is right now.

“Do you want to open the gifts?”

“Sure.” He walks closer to the desk, grabbing one bag. Opening it, he sees a Build-A-Bear wearing an army uniform, and he laughs. “This is very cute.”

You laugh with him and hand him the other bag. He reaches in to see a bunch of sweets. His favorite candies, cookies, and chocolates.

“This is all very sweet, y/n. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to make sure you know you’re appreciated.”

“You did a great job.” His voice lowers as he looks at everything. “Will you stay and share cupcakes with me?”

“Yes!” You can hide how eager you are to spend time with him.

He sits in his desk chair and you begin to walk to the other side when he grabs your waist gently, he is terrified for what he is about to do.

“Do you still want to sit on my lap?”

“Of course.” A small blush forms on your cheeks as you fall back on to König’s massive thighs. His arm wraps around your waist to hold you steady.

König lifts his mask, knowing you might reject him once you see that he isn’t a handsome man and that his face is scarred. You look at him and smile instead. He watches as you reach over for a cupcake.

“Which is your favorite?”

“Lemon.” His hand begins to caress your abdomen.

You grab a lemon cupcake for him and peel it. Holding it for him to take a bite. His gaze lingers on you for a second, feeling hesitant, but then leans forward and takes a bite. Your fingers gently wipe away buttercream frosting from his lip and lick it off your finger.

König watches intently. He tries to ignore these feelings, but his body betrays him. His cock slowly gets hard. The look in your eyes tells him you feel it. You lean in to feed him another bite, this time locking eyes. As he chews, you press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I really like you, König.”

He swallows and nods. “I know…why?”

“Just look at you.” You caress his face with your free hand. “I just want to make you happy.”

König brings his hand to the side of your face and brings you in for another kiss.

[the-moon-devi]

ROMANCE IN

SYNASTRY &

COMPOSITE

Mercury

(𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

🩷 Mercury-Venus This configuration is very poetic and harmonious. Sweet words are said, and you'll know that they care about you. There's a love & attraction for the mind, and the way the other person speaks. This, is a must if you have a lot of air influence in your chart. These two will genuinely love talking to one another. The communication will often be harmonious. This is a very flirty aspect to have within synastry. Words of affirmations is important within this connection.

🩷 Moon-Mercury (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles) ; This configuration shows a very affectionate way of speaking & communicating with one another. Moon will understand where mercury is coming from on an emotional level. Mercury is nurturing the most vulnerable sides of Moon. These two can find it easy to express how they feel. This is similar to Moon 3h overlay, where both are constantly talking to the other about anything. There's a deep and intimate bond between these two great for romance, honestly, because you can vocalize how you feel about each other.

Sun

(𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.)

🩷 Sun 5h overlay: This overlay foretells that there is definitely physical attraction. Usally it will be the 5h person who sees the sun person a physically attractive. Since this is the house of romance and pleasure/joy, it's self explainable to see why this is on the list of romantic placements. Sun in the 5th can show more of short-term or just simply sexual type of love/romance. Nevertheless, though this shows that this overlay will be romantic and the other to be physically pleasing to the eyes. There can be many romantic gestures and comments given to the sun person. Both are able to feel this deep attraction to each other. This brings fun dates and even actually puts creativity into the gifts you give to each other. The theme of this relationship is joy and fun, not so much seriousness. This can also show talking about children, and it'd not uncommon to see couples that children quickly to have this or many 5-house overlays. You will experience romance and lovemaking within this synastry.

🩷 Sun 2h overlay: These two are constantly sharing and making the other feel comfortable. This one can make the 2h person feel like they need to commit towards the sun. 2h person can be very loyal towards sun, and trust is usally very important here. The 2h also rules touch, sensuality, money, but specifically money spent. This energy can go either way, but mostly, it could be the 2h person giving the sun person money. And also being very protective over them, also admiring their physical body. And doing sensual things to please the other. The 2h person may take mental notes of things that make the sun person happy, and use these things as gifts later on. The 2h person values the sun person, and 2h person should be careful not to view the sun person as an object. This van also turns into looking at the sun person as a trophy or an asset. Sun person in return definitely boosts the self-confidence/worth of the 2h person, and often won't hesitate to tell them nice things or share their valuable with them. The sun person can give all their assets to the 2h person because of all the trust that lies within this overlay.

🩷 Sun-Moon (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles); Beautiful! LIKE THIS ONE.....🤌🏻, you will feel understood and safe 🥹. For women, and especially women who are moon ruled/dominant. It's very important for you to feel secure, comfortable, and safe within a relationship. That is ultimate romance and an indication of love. Specifically talking about conjunctions & bi-quintiles/quintiles this will likely feel the strongest. Even stronger when the man is sun, and the woman is the moon, simply because we know that the sun is masculine energy, and the moon is feminine energy. These aspects can feel like you get each other, and on an instinctual, and just basic level, you two get along. This is genuinely the clearest sign of a soul connection, in my opinion. Until you have experienced this, you haven't experienced a feeling of completely understood. This... will change your life. For conjunctions, we all know the closer the stronger, but in vedic, a conjuction is considered anything in the same sign. Personally, I say anything up to a 10° orb, especially when it comes to these two luminaries and personal planets.

🩷 Sun 7h overlay: The 7h is ruled by libra/venus. All of this venusian energy is highlighted. The focus, the theme, will be relationships, marriage, sharing ,coupling, and all of those things in the context of romance. The 7h person will feel like and view the sun person as the perfect partner. They can feel absolutely completed. Sun can also feel like they belong to each other. This can indicate strong attraction and feeling of opposites attract, but you beautifully balance and complement each other. You two just make each other look good. Think of this similar to sun conjunct Venus. Venus is looking at the sun like they are some god/goddess that came into their life and swept them off their feet. Honestly, any rules/expectations you had when it came to relarionships/partners they can either go out the window or they perfectly fit those standards. In the romance sense, this can become very romantic, especially once these two get to know each other. This is the house of lovers, so over time, this is one that can show a very romantic couple. This is also an indication of marriage.

🩷 Sun-Venus: This aspect brings warmness, and strong romance. This makes it easy for both partners to express love, and do romantic gestures for the other. These two really get along espcially if this is a conjunction, sextile, trine, and biquintile/quintile. Venus person is usually the one who admires the sun person, and finds them to be very physically attractive. Sun can increase venus's self worth, and image. They could love giving each other gifts, and having fun/indulging together.

🩷 Sun-Loving (432971) (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles); Affectionate, and of course loving. The loving person can love the charecerisics of the sun person. They wouldnt want to do anything to bruise their ego.

🩷 Sun/ASC-Lovelock (51663)/ 1h overlay (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles); This aspect shows an almost obsessive love with the sun or ascendant person.

🩷 Sun/ASC- Valentine (447)/ 1h overlay

🩷 Sun-Amor, Cupido

🩷 Asc-Valentine/ 1h overlay

🩷 Amor/Cupido-Asc

Moon/Venus

(𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐨-𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 & 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝! 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

🩷 Venus 1h overlay: This overlay indicates that Venus finds the 1st person very attractive. Venus, known as the planet of love, suggests that the Venus person loves the appearance of the 1st person and loves them as well. This could indicate love at first sight, with romance flowing easily. Venus may see the 1st person as marriage material, and love languages are easily understood. While this overlay is very loving, it can sometimes come across as superficial, making the 1st person feel like the Venus person only likes them for their looks. However, this overlay also indicates a deep mutual admiration. Venus will boost the self-esteem of the 1st person and will always make sure to express love and care for them.

🩷 Venus 5h overlay: This one is pretty self-explanatory. Venus, the planet of love, pleasure, beauty, finances, luxury, etc, falls into the house of dating, attraction, sex, love, and flirting. The attraction will be through the roof with this overlay. This overlay feels like summer love. There will be a lot of cuteness and passion. This brings so much joy & pleasure to both partners. Venus person sees the 1h person as very attractive & sexy. This is a very romantic overlay. In the Sexual sense, it's not hard to get turned on by each other. 🤭❤️‍🔥

🩷 Venus 3h overlay: Some people may not agree with this and may not find it romantic. However, depending on your personal Venus placements, this could be romantic to you. The reason I say this is romantic is that the 3rd house represents words, communication, expression, and much more. If your love language is words of affirmation and mental stimulation, this is perfect. The Venus person can love the way the 3rd house person talks, and both can feel like they can talk all day about anything. The 3rd house also rules transportation, so these two may enjoy driving and going on short trips together. They may even exchange love notes and poems. This is a very artistic and creative connection. They can come up with lots of ideas together. The mind and the voice are like honey to the Venus person. They can truly feel understood when they are together.

🩷 Venus 7h overlay/ conjunct dsc: This overlay is beautiful. Venus feels at home here. The 7h person can feel like they have found their partner whether they are actually right or not is up to fate. However, this is a good indicator for marriage. And a loving marriage/ long-term relationship. Venus people feel like it's easy to be romantic with the house person. They can actually view the house person as wife/hubsand material as well. This shows a love based relationship.

🩷 Venus 8h overlay: This interaction brings two individuals to explore the depths of their personalities. Fortunately, Venus adds a light touch to this interaction. Initially, there may be a transformative, intense, and forbidden attraction to each other. This dynamic works both ways, although the person with Venus in the 8th house may feel more intimidated. While Venus is intrigued, this bond develops into a close connection that is hard to let go of. It's a deep and intense romance, and both individuals feel like no one else can understand the depth of their connection. There is an evident sexual tension, and you may find yourself doing things you never thought you would. Both parties will feel like nobody understands them like the other person

🩷 Venus conjunct nodes: This one is automatic attraction, especially from the aid of the nodal person. If this is the north node, there is a natural feeling of being romantic & wanting to express your love for the other person. If this is the south node, the same applies but this could indicate that eventually one or both parties start to grow out of this, because the south is what we are leaving, while the north node is what we are going towards. There's a strong feeling of fate here, but it doesn't always indicate growing apart, but if it happens, there will. likely be no hard feelings, just maybe a lot of what-ifs, and that would have been a great relationship if we met at the right time, etc, etc.

🩷 Venus-Mars: Allllll venus-mars bring passion. It's just those harsh aspects like the conjunction, oppositions, and square that can make this attraction feel insatiable and constantly grow stronger & stronger over time.

🩷 Venus conjunct Uranus: This aspect is known as the love at first sight aspect, and honestly, I can see why, lol. Uranus is unexpected, rapid movement, and Venus is love. Venus unexpectedly falls for the Uranus person, and vice versa. Uranus person may tend to be more.... let's say flighty, but the attraction is there. These two are going to have a lot of fun together. There's an unorthodox connection that they feel liberated by.

🩷 Moon 1h/ conjunct asc: 1h person feels very understood by the moon person. The house person views the moon person as nurturing, and if the house person is a man, he views him as someone who would make a good wife. Due to the wife showing the wife in a man's chart. This develops into a very intuitive connection. On a biological level, you two just mix very well. The 1h person thinks about starting a family with the moon person & vice versa. Moon people view the 1h person as their baby and can be protective over them. They just get each other on an emotional level. This also shows a lot of physical affection and speaking softly to the other, lol.

🩷 Moon-Venus: This is very soft and romantic. Even if this does happen to be a harsh aspect due to these both being feminine planets, they can find similarities within each other that they grow to admire 🥺. This is important because the moon is our inner self, emotions, and subconscious, and Venus is our love language/romance. When these two come together, this shows a language where these two are speaking to each other with care & softness. With softer aspects (Conjunction, sextiles, trines, quintiles) it's so much easier for this energy to be expressed whereas with harder aspects (squares & oppositions) this energy is there they both just have different ways of expressing it, which ultimately something both parties need to learn. 😉

🩷 Juno-Venus: COMMITMENT & LOVE,

🩷 Venus-Valentine (447) (conjunct, sextile, trine & quintile/bi-quintiles) self-explanatory, I talked about this here

🩷 Vertex Conjunct any love asteroids : Meeting the other for love

🩷 Vesta-Venus (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles) Through love, the sacred flame is ignited.

Juno

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 ��𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡, 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

🩷 Juno 1h overlay: 1h person embodies what juno person wants in a long-term partner. This leads juno person to want to make the effort to be with the house person. Juno person can feel completely fulfilled by the house person. They feel that they have met the one!

🩷 Juno 7h overlay: This is probably more of an indicator of romance because the 7h shows relationships, and Juno does too, so this is a very strong indicator of that happening. It's easier for both to engage in romantic conversations & activities. Likely marriage came up very early. When these two meet, there is a feeling of being in each other's lives for the long haul.

🩷 Juno-Agapenor/Valentine (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles)

🩷 Juno- Ceres (conjunct,sextile,trine & quintile/bi-quintiles) explained this here....

The Love Asteroids

🩷 Lovejoy/Lovelock 7h overlay

🩷 Agapenor (5023) 1h/7h Overlay

🩷 Amor (1221) 1h/5h/7h Overlay

🩷 Cupido (763) 1h/5h Overlay

🩷 North Node conjunct Valentine/Agapenor

Composite Charts

𝐃𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐨

🩷 Venus Rules Ascendants (Taurus & Libra) ~ Libra & Taurus are ruled by the planet of love, so within this relationship, these two will want to be romantic and loving with another. As a matter of fact, it feels more natural to do so and likely won't feel forced. These two can also look good together.

🩷 Ascendant conjunct Venus

🩷 Ascendant ruler in 5h/7h/12h~ now hear me out about the 12h part lol. The 12h is ruled by the sign Pisces, which is exalted in the planet Venus ( of love & beauty). To me, Neptunian & Pisces energy shows a higher love, and this can be reflected in the 12h. When BOTH individuals are spiritually enlightened. The 12h is unconditional love.

🩷 Venus-Neptune~ With the right amount of Neptune in a relationship, it can feel heavenly. The couple can feel like they've found their soulmate. There is an emotional connection.

🩷 Venus conjunct Mars~ Passion and great Sex lol. They feel good together, and they just know each other.

🩷 "The Love Stellium"~ I've experienced this once before, but I can't say I was in love, LOL. me and this person also had a few prominent love asteroids in composite & synastry however It didn't last long enough to get there. But I can say that I cared a lot about them and did things I wouldn't usually do. If you're not familiar with the love stellium, it's basically when the Sun, Mercury, and Venus are all in conjunction with each other. This stellium is lovely. The relationship just feels so nice. It's good to have if there isn't a lot of Venus stuff going on. The sun conjunct mercury helps with communication and makes it easier to understand & listen to each other while the sun conjunct Venus makes the relationship enjoyable & pleasurable. Both parties feel pleased & beautiful together. Venus conjunct Mercury is amazing because not only do you have good communication, but it is also sweet & you get the words of affirmation that you want. This is such a good one to have. Consider yourself lucky if you have it! 😊

🩷 Union 1h/7h~ Looking & feeling like you were made for each other. You feel whole & united together.

🩷 Agapenor 7h~ The relationship between the two is filled with unconditional love. Even if they part ways they will always have love for each other. Honestly, they could be each other's first love

🩷 Valentine 1h/7h~ Self explanatory

🩷 all love asteroids in strong aspects to sun, moon, dsc/asc, venus

🩷 7h lord in 7h/1h~ the relationship is likely the main focus and is very important to them

🩷 Venus 10h/ conjunct mc~ Their reputation is pleasant & beautiful. They look good together. Their love is seen by the world, and it's something that has only grown stronger over time.

🩷 Moon 7h/1h/5h/2h

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝐷𝑒'𝐿𝑢𝑥𝑥𝑒

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝐴 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝐻𝑜𝑡 𝐴𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦

[shinestarhwaa]

MINGIWONKA || SONG MINGI

You thirsty whores wanted Mingi to fuck you with his cane so here we are: getting freaky with MingiWonka

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x Fem reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship AU, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, blowjob, dirty language, praise kink, sir kink, paraphilia (use of weird objects during sex: his cane), kinda funny imo

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

''Mingi, I can't believe you actually dressed up as Willy fucking Wonka for this comeback. That's insane,'' you laughed when Mingi entered your LA hotel room, still wearing his outfit from the MV filming set. He had begged his stylists to let him wear it for the rest of the day, thinking it'd be hilarious to surprise you in it. After a lot of begging, they let him and here he was; Wonka'ing into your bedroom while you laughed at him.

''Oh come on, isn't it sexy? Mingi Wonka is a vibe right? Don't you like it just a little bit?'' he said with a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. ''Well,'' you started as you eyed him up and down. He grinned and took off his hat and put it on yours instead. ''Is this some weird scenario like... you get the hat, you ride the chocolatier?'' ''Only if you want to,'' he said, as he subtly kicked the wooden cane with his foot.

You stared him up and down once again, your eyes gliding over the shiny purple jacket, grey slacks that barely hid the fat dick it was holding back. You watched how his fingers played with the cane, stroking it slowly. ''You're fixated on that? While you could look at me?'' ''Well I apologize, mister Wonka, I did not reali-'' ''No, no, no, you shush right now, I can give you just what you want, miss Wonka.''

He got on his knees in front of you and pulled down your silky pajama shorts down, as well as your cotton panties. You licked your lips and laid down against the soft pillows as you spread your legs for your boyfriend. This was the weirdest kind of role-play you've ever done, but to be fair he wanted to put on a Sailor Moon costume on himself once.

Mingi peppered kisses from your upper thighs to your knees and back to your inner thigh, pressing his lips everywhere except where you needed them. ''Mingi, please,'' you whined softly. ''Mhm, patience my love, I gotta prepare you don't I?''

Finally, you felt his lips brush over your wet pussy. You had been thinking of him all night anyway so you were quite aroused even before he came home. Now that he put the thought of fucking MingiWonka in your head you got even wetter. You threw the large hat on the ground and moaned when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

You ran your hand through his hair and moaned out, chest heaving as your breathing picked up. ''Oh God, baby that feels so good,'' you whined. Mingi's tongue worked inside your cunt and made you feel things you only felt when you're with him. Pure magic and pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he slid two of his long, thick fingers into your pussy. He kept licking and sucking repeatedly on your sensitive clit, making you moan louder for him. You were a little embarrassed as half of the hotel could probably hear you unravel for him but what could you do when he handsome MingiWonka wanted to use his tongue on your pretty little pussy?

His velvety tongue flicked your bud a few times more before you felt yourself getting closer to climaxing. Mingi groped your thighs and ass with his free hand and made you see stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul. His face was completely burried in your pussy as your orgasm washed over you. You moaned loudly and your body shivered as he rode out your high, flicking your clit with his tongue a few more times.

Mingi panted and got up from the bed, stripping himself bare while smirking at you, a disheveled mess in front of him. ''Look at that... Aren't you such a good little girl for me? I'm gonna give you what you want now, huh? Weren't you looking at this beauty for a while?'' Mingi smirked as he showed you his cane, tracing it lightly.

Your eyes went wide and your pussy clenched. ''A-Are you fucking me with that, Min?'' ''Turn around and ass up, babygirl,'' he ordered you. You couldn't believe him and his crazy mind sometimes but this was something you never could've thought of before. Nevertheless, you obeyed him, getting on your knees and resting on your elbows while pushing your ass up for him. ''That's a good girl,'' he praised you as he cleaned off the cane and lubed it up.

''Now give me a good view of that pretty little pussy, Y/N,'' Mingi said in a raspy voice, positioning himself behind you. You spread your legs a little more for him and waited in anticipation. You took a deep breath when you felt the cold material prod against your hole. ''Oh God, sir,'' you whispered.

Soon enough it pushed inside you with force and your elbows gave out. Your moans were muffled by the pillow underneath you, where your head was pressed in as Mingi rutted the cane into your cunt deeply. It pushed in and out and soon enough he picked up the pace, adjusting the angles to find the exact spot you loved it so much.

You whined loudly and started trembling, your previous orgasm still leaving you sensitive. ''That's a good girl, taking anything I give to you, hm?'' ''Y-Yes, Oh my God, for you sir, for you!'' ''That's right, sir Wonka is in charge here. So if I wanna fuck you with this cane and stuff it into your wet, needy pussy that's what we're gonna do, hm?''

After repeatedly hitting your g-spot and making you moan like a bitch in heat he started to push it deeper inside you, making you scream out loud. Your breathing was heavy and you felt how hot and red your face was, the entire situation nearly becoming too much. You started to grind back on the cane, fucking yourself on it as Mingi forced you to take more and more into your cunt.

''Such a talented little pussy, taking it like that. You're such a talented little girl aren't you? And so dirty, God, are you gonna cum on this angel? Is this beautiful cane that belongs to sir gonna make you cum, and scream and fucking come undone?''

''Yes! Yes it is, sir, oh my God it is!'' you screamed. It was only a matter of a few more thrusts before you felt yourself tremble and shudder as you came for him, cunt twitching and clenching on the cane. When you calmed down he pulled it out and smirked at your gaping hole and then on the slick covering the cane he used as an MV prop just hours ago.

Mingi tossed aside the cane and did not warn you as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning out and throwing his head back. He pounded his thick cock inside you and you had no choice but to take it and let him ruin you. ''Please, please, please,'' you whimpered.

''Please what, little one? What do you want? Is sir's cock not enough? Or is sir's cock so fucking good you're gonna cum again like a little-''

''Yes! Yes, it's too good!'' you interrupted him, clenching down on his cock and earning a low groan from him. He rocked into you and gripped your ass tight, kneading the flesh in his hands. The sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, combined with loud squeels muffled by the plush pillow.

''Are you gonna cum again baby? Aren't you a filthy little girl, jesus, you're gonna take my load baby, gonna take sir's load like a good girl while you cum, isn't that right?'' He thrusted harder into you when you didn't answer him. ''Isn't that right?'' he snapped.

You cried out, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock pulsated inside you, spilling his cum into your clenching cunt. You whined and cried out his name as you came for a third time.

When he pulled his cock out of your cunt and watched it leak out you let your entire body fall back on the bed, absolutely spent. Mingi grinned and took you into his arms. He strokes your hair gently and kissed your head. ''You've done so well for me baby, you were insane.''

''I am insane? Didn't you just fuck me with a cane?'' ''Maybe a bit. I went bazonka like Willy Wonka.'' ''Don't ever say that again, Min.''

[parkjayssi]

✦ PAC : THEY ARE THE POEMS I WRITE ABOUT

few facts about your future spouse

like & rb if resonates

i'm a beginner in tarot so please take everything with a grain of salt

it is a general reading so only take what resonates

do not copy or steal my work

☁️ | pile one!

pile one, seems like your fs have quite a vivid and imaginative mind. they are constantly having new ideas and love to invent/ create new things. i see them being obsessed with some form of arts.

they like being stable. they don't necessarily think money can buy happiness but they definitely want to create a stable future for them and their family. this can also mean being stable in every form. emotionally, physically, materialistically etc..

they really work hard for what they want, pile one. in fact the constant dedication is their biggest plus point and also their worst. they work hard to the point it's taxing and affecting them in every way.

pulling a suit of pentacles confirms it that they definitely are the epitome of stability. also they really like travelling. they like discovering new places and getting on touch with their creative side through travelling.

☁️ | pile two!

seems like they are quite a smart person, pile two. they have the wits of an owl and are quite mature when it comes to their perspective on almost everything.

possibly work in the business field. they are quite street smart and it works well with jobs that require leadership and co-operation. could also travel a lot because of their work. with the suit of wands it confirms it that they are quite dedicated to their work.

they are from foreign lands. this could be as small as a different city to as large as a different continent entirely. for most of you, it could be a different state from yours.

they seem the type to fight hard for what they want but can be just as easily demotivated if they don't have any support by their side. words of affection really cheer them up.

they are quite straightforward about how they feel and will not sugarcoat their words. they really believe in honesty is the best policy. seems like they also like talking a lot about deep topics. seems like sapiosexual for some of you.

☁️ | pile three!

a bundle of energy with a fearless attitude is who your fs is, pile 3. they have a pretty optimistic mindset and believe in hoping for better. they aren't scared of facing the problems head on AT ALL .

they easily suffer from burn-out. seems like they are an introvert and tend to lose their energy quickly. definitely needs alone time to recharge. although, whenever they really are passionate about something and put their mind onto it, they tend to succeed.

they tend to escape reality a lot but not in a way you expect anyone to. tends to think a lot on how they can improve further whenever they do so. self-discovery is a major part of their life so they are always in their head about it

they seem quite sensual. they enjoy the finer things in life and take time to appreciate them. they are the type to stop and enjoy the fragrance of flowers while passing through the flower shop.

they seem to have a bright energy. something about their smile instantly heals you. it's like they hold the sun within their smile and makes you feel instantly better.

[alice-angel12x]

What if the twisted wonderland react the MC/Reader have a magical paintbrush just like epic mickey games?

Also this is yuu's paintbrush looks like btw

Yuu! Epic Mickey Twisted Wonderland

Here's a fun art peice I did cause the image was so fun.

Overblot boys (Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Jamil) React to Epic Mickey!Yuu

I remember when I first created Forgotten Wasteland, and how my apprentice made a mess of it all. While I am glad he repaired all the damage he has done, I couldn't trust him to not let his mischievous curiosity get the better of him. So I took up my magical brush and created a helper or a protector. They would keep watch and protect the toons of wasteland. They were an excellent student, they quickly mastered the magic of the brush. If only my other student was this obedient. (Geez Yen Sid, biased much).

Master Yen Sid watched Yuu gently and with a calculated stroke of the bush on the wasteland. The old wise wizard nodded with approval.

"You have done well," Yen Sid said as he gave a pat on Yuu's head.

Yuu smiled softly when they noticed their master holding his hand out, asking for his paintbrush back. They handed the wizards the brush, and suddenly began to dip it into the paint. Where he began to wave the brush in the air, creating something. Something big.

With a final stroke, there before him was a beautiful paintbrush. It was almost Yuu's height, as the wizard handed them the gift.

"Be very careful with this magic. With great strength, comes even greater responsibility. This is not something to play with willy-nilly," Yen Sid said sternly.

"Yes, Master Yen Sid. I promise to use this power for good," Yuu said, trying to contain their excitement.

"I know you will. I can see great things from you," Yen Sid said with a small smile. "Take good care of Wasteland."

If only Yen Sid knew, that his favorite pupil would vanish from under his nose. They would somehow end up in a place called Twisted Wonderland.

------------------------------------------

💗Riddle RoseHeart 💗

Before the blot:

When he first meets Yuu, he doesn't really take them seriously. Since the mirror says they are not a magic user.

He thinks the large paintbrush Yuu carries around is really inconvenient. And Does not look forward to all the potential mess it could bring.

After/during Blot:

Overblot Riddle struggled in the battle with Yuu. The most annoying thing they did was paint his rose bushes Blue, turning them against him.

Turns out Yuu and their magic paintbrush weren't as useless as Riddle assumed.

Yuu's finishing blow was a good whack to the head, dousing Riddle and the ink phantom with a powerful stream of thinner, erasing the blotted ink instantly.

Leaving an unblotted Riddle behind. Though Yuu gave Riddle one last splash of thinner for safe measure.

Leaving a crying drenched mess.

After fixing that, they left all of Heartslybuyal in awe as they watched the thinner in the brush turn to blue paint. And with many strokes of the brush, the unbirthday party was restored.

After that Riddle had a lot more respect for Yuu, and was a lot more curious of what else Yuu could do with their brush.

____________________________________

🦁Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Before Blot:

He could have cared less about this person. He thought they looked ridiculous with their giant brush. On top of that, they were magicless.

However, he did note that this new student smelt strange. Yet he paid them no mind.

After/during Blot:

Leona had a bit of an easier time against Yuu, cause of the howling sandstorm. Making it difficult for Yuu to toss the Thinner on the phantom and the inkblot.

So with the help of the first-year squad, moved upwind and with this. Yuu blasted Leona with a wave of magic Thinner.

The phantom quickly resolved, and Leona could only stare in shock as the Thinner swept him away.

Of course, they made sure to drench Leona in thinner to be sure all the inkblot was gone.

After the whole event, he was strangely enough. interested in going against the Ramshackle team. Even if it wasn't an official match.

He would smirk in interest as Yuu used their magic brush to create a flying broom for themselves. And some Toon as extra players for the team.

____________________________________

Azul Ashengrotto

Before Blot:

He was amused at most, like why would any person carry such a cumbersome thing around.

And they were magicless on top of that. What an odd individual. But for the most part, also didn't pay much attention.

Till the idea of obtaining the Ramshackle dorm. At first the ain't brush was interesting, but he simply assumed that it was some weird decoration.

Yet he did notice Yuu's strange hesitance of water. Specifically the idea of being in water. Azul would happily take advantage of Yuu's fears.

After/during Blot:

This was a frustrating battle for both fighters. Since Azul can keep spewing ink, just as much as Yuu can remove it.

But with the help of allies and friends, Yuu was able to wash away all the ink with their brush and thinner. With a good whack, to bring Azul back to his senses.

Even after the battle, Yuu seemed to refuse to go near the water. A phobia maybe, Azul thought to himself.

Azul is indeed interested in Yuu's power but finds them confusing too. Yuu wants to see the world under the waves, yet refuses to go anywhere near the water.

He tries to ask Jade and Floyd what they know about this student. But not even they could dig anything up about them.

____________________________________

Jamil Viper

Before Blot:

He honestly could care less about them in the start.

He sees them as a perfect pawn to overthrow Kalim. Jamil also notices Yuu's strange fear of water, even if it is in rain form.

But whatever it took to knock Kalim down, he did not care much. Though he did learn some interesting things about them. After using Snake whisper on them.

After/during Blot:

Yuu surprised attacked him, doused him in Thinner, and quickly took him down. Much to Jamil's emmerassement.

Last time he underestimates a person with a giant brush.

During the party in the desert, he saw Yuu sitting in the shade of the trees away from the oasis.

So he sat next to them. "So... Is it true you're made out of paint?"

Part 2, or a focus on one character at a time to have a mini story. (cause I have basically a fan fic Idea in my empty brain)

[icyg4l]

PAC: What Do Your Passed On Loved Ones Admire About You?

Hello beautiful people! Today's reading will be a lot more serious than normal so this is a warning for those who will get emotionally triggered. Your passed on loved ones are with you always! I am simply just passing on the message. My condolences to those who have lost a loved one in their lifetime. If you are interested in this reading, please don't be afraid to dm me so that you can book with me! Be sure to refer to my guidelines and dm me if you have any questions. Without further ado, please pick the image that resonates with you the most.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-6)

Pile One: Tenacity and strength are the first characteristics that come to mind. Your passed on loved one wants you to know that your childlike innocence is a gift not a curse. This could be your uncle. You are someone that can get the truth out of everyone simply because you know what to say. There’s not a lot that you have to say either. You’re quite the persuasive being. They also admire how level-headed you are. Some of your loved ones were more on the fiery side and because of that, they wish they could have been more balanced with their temperament when they were still here. However, this does not mean that you back down to a fight. You know when to open your mouth to protest against the injustices of the world. You have an undying love for humanity, nature and animals. You are so sensitive and precious to your loved ones. You also know when you’ve made a mistake. Your passed on loved ones see you as their Princess Diana. You’re kind and loving to all, but you fight when your back is against the wall or when others are being judged.

Cards Used: 6 of Cups, 7 of Wands, The Magician, 9 of Discs, Princess of Discs, 3 of Discs.

extras: blue ribbon ice cream. no limits. satisfaction guaranteed. mild. “there’s a lesson in everything.” monthly visits. crown. like mike (2002). lesbian. learning accommodations.

Pile Two: “You’re so cool” is the first thing that I heard. You are someone who is the standard. You are the Beyonce of your family. People try to impress you because you’re just that girl/guy/enby. You are an angel on earth. I feel like some of you were bullied when you were younger and this person came to your defense. This could have been an older sibling/cousin, maybe your mother who was younger than most. But you did not let these traumatic events harden you. You grew into a beautiful person. This pile as a whole went through a lot of back-to-back trauma in their lives but your passed on loved one wants you to know that they admire your peaceful approach to life. You are someone that is easy to bond with. I feel like you choose not to drink when the opportunity is presented because you have a bit of a temper when drunk. Your passed on loved one could have been the same way. You also have a fair way of viewing things. You try not to be biased when shown two sides of the story. You consider everything. You value the truth and the moral of the situation. Your integrity matters, Pile Two. Your passed on loved one wants you to continue to be this way.

Cards Used: Knight of Wands, Temperance, The Moon, 4 of Swords, Death, King of Swords, 6 of Discs.

extras: wet shirt. pushya moon. water sign. effervescent. sniffing flowers. moniker. “grown man.” glow. party pants. amazon. purify. NBA roster. sims 4 gaming channel. kawaii.

Pile Three: You are so humble, dear. Your passed on loved ones really admired your ability to talk to anyone. You never felt like you were above anyone. You treat everyone with the respect they deserve. You have stripped yourself down to the point where everyone can see through you clearly. You do not have to depend on material things to make up your self-concept. Your vulnerability is beautiful. It’s not a level of self-awareness that everyone can achieve. Some people may try to make you feel bad for where you come from but you carry yourself with nonchalance. That saying about sticks and stones is personified. Your passed on loved ones admire how you stay out of the way. “This is a crazy world” I heard. It feels like this is an elder talking to you. They believe that you will do big things in this world despite how little you have come from. You were not set up for failure. You have the tools to improve your situation.

Cards Used: The Star (RX), 6 of Cups, The Hermit, The High Priestess, Princess of Discs, Wheel of Fortune.

extras: neck tattoo. “kiss the ring.” ring around the rosie. martian. elephant in the room. malleable. solar system. troubleshoot. best buy. filled gas tank. empty condom box. snoring. aaliyah.

Pile Four: Your passed on loved one admires you in totality. This is your lover, could have been your fiance/fiancee. This also could have been your best friend. They miss your scent. They miss being in your presence, period. They love the shape of your eyes. They love the way you smile and tilt your head downward. You have this unexplainable quality about you that lights up the room. They know that life is different without them but they want you to keep going. Your go-getter, flirtatious nature is admirable as well. You have this lust for life that everyone should have. Your lover misses your physical touch. Your ability to get up every morning and go to sleep at night makes them want to come back down to Earth temporarily. Your person could have had some egotistical qualities about themselves but they love that you loved them with all your heart. They see you as their other half. They want to reunite with you in another life. This story is to be continued, my love.

Cards Used: Princess of Swords, 9 of Wands, 4 of Cups, King of Wands, 2 of Cups, The Lovers.

extras: eartha kitt. purr. austin powers costumes. chapell roan. meeting in college. musical.ly.

Pile Five: You take pride in your appearance. You stay in the gym to keep your figure right. You get your nails and hair done. You pick out the right colors for your wardrobe. You stay on top of your shit. But you also have this side to you that is in tune with the world around you. You have the perfect amount of both feminine and masculine energy to them. Are you a lawyer or social justice advocate? Your passed on loved one wants you to know that you can do all. You’re living proof that anything can happen. This feels like a male’s energy. He was a dominating force in the household and he was young. This could be your father or older brother. They are smiling down on how you have manifested everything that you two talked about. They were there in spirit when you made history/reached a milestone. They also admire how you keep in touch with family even after their death. They admire how you keep your promises even if it’s something that you don’t want to do. You need to learn to ask for help though and stop being so stubborn. They appreciate the altar you dedicated to them. If not, you need to. It would strengthen the relationship between the two of you.

Cards Used: Ace of Cups, The Emperor, Queen of Cups, Justice, The Star, 10 of Wands, 10 of Cups.

extras: quen blackwell. new workout plan (2004). ari fletcher. olivia pope. kpop bias. fallen curtain. sweeping feet.

Pile Six: When I pulled for you, I thought of the movie ‘Paid in Full’. Whoever your loved one is, they lived a dangerous/risky life at some point. But they admire how cutthroat you are. You get stuff done. You keep stuff moving. Your passed on loved one says that you have their swag. You have a lot of mental energy. You’re smart, both book and street smart. Your loved one says to stay safe and live life to the fullest; but also live it the clean way. They like how you stay outside in nature with the wildlife. I feel like you are the breadwinner or you at least have a lot of money saved up. You are attempting to gain financial stability at a young age and I can hear claps because of that, lol. Along with your practical side, they admire your outlook on life. You try to be as fiscal as possible but you also try to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You will party with a lot of people. I feel like your person was kind of uptight. I feel like you never miss a chance to make money. You’re a “hustler”, just like your loved one. This person feels like an uncle, a cousin, maybe your father.

Cards Used: King of Discs, King of Wands, 2 of Swords, King of Swords, 7 of Swords, Queen of Discs.

Extras: “keep it in the family.” “no one knows.” pork rinds. round glasses. beeper. shady business. groupme. “out of line.” solo dolo. throwback. paying tribute.

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace 2

Hello my loves! Leather and Lace 2 is now yours. The next and last official part is available on our Patreon early, but I’m willing to write some more for them if you guys want 👀 they’ll be classified as ‘extras’ but oh well hehe

Check out our Patreon for early access and 170+ exclusive writings

Leather & Lace masterlist

Warnings- possessive H, kind of a dickhead

WC- 3.7k

Things had shifted between Harry and Y/N.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect after she’d blown him, but she didn’t make it awkward at all. If anything? They were more comfortable around each other. Harry was less nervous to touch her, pulling her into his side as they sat on her new couch the next day or adjusting the hair from her face when the wind got it stuck in her lip gloss when they’d met for lunch. The way she reacted to his touch was much more noticeable to him now which made him feel particularly chuffed. Y/N was important to him before, but it seemed like the intimacy had elevated them to a different level.

It had only been a week since the night at her place where she’d given him the best blowie he’d ever received, but they hadn’t done much else. They had cuddled in bed that night, kissed a little bit, but he hadn’t had a chance to get her truly alone and it was driving him nuts. 

Y/N was popular and she had a lot of activities she liked to do. Paint n’ sip classes she helped run, volunteering at the library, at the animal shelter, helping her new neighbor with her cat, on top of her own workload. The closest he’d gotten to alone time with her was when she arrived at his place on wednesday to climb into his bed and pass out, which she’d done with a smeared kiss to his lips. She’d been asleep once her head hit the pillow. 

He’d gotten to see her out quite a bit as he was often wrangled into helping her. He used to pretend to be grumpy about it and huff and puff when she’d pat his head but he hadn’t even tried to do that this week. Instead he let his touches linger and watched her smiles grow, happy to get a few seconds to hug her before she had to move on to something else. It had been driving him out of his mind, and if they didn’t have the promise to go back to her place tonight he may have lost it. 

House parties weren’t something he particularly liked, but when Y/N called him on video chat and gave him her puppy eyes while asking him to help her set it up for Sarah, he couldn’t say no. He did like the other girl well enough and he knew how crazy Y/N was about birthdays, so he’d given up his friday night to the whole surprise party. 

Though he wasn’t feeling very generous with Y/N’s time anymore. For the first hour of the party he’d followed her around and lingered in the corners to make sure she was okay as she chatted to people, but this observing really did him in. She was so fucking perfect. 

It hit him again how much he actually liked her. The whole experience was odd considering he hadn’t considered being in a relationship in this point of his life, content with hooking up and never seeing the other person again, but that was pre Y/N. Now that he had her in his world, it was hard to imagine himself with anyone but her. Sure, she was his opposite in a way, but they attracted. That’s what all the books and movies said, anyways. He want content just observing her, ignoring mostly anyone else who would come up to him or give them one worded answers with his eyes on his girl, the pretty little butterfly fluttering around the room. 

The feeling had been so unfamiliar that the first time he’d felt it, he’d thought it was heartburn or something. 

Harry had already admired her before but it was a whole other level seeing how much she tried to make other people feel seen. She gave them attention, smiling and listening intently before gracefully getting her exit out only to be stopped by someone else. How a woman like that had been into him enough that she’d wanted to blow him and keep him around, he had no clue. But there was no taking it back, and he was feeling greedy. 

Cornering her in the kitchen, he narrowed his eyes at her as she looked at him with a giddy smile. “M’tired of sharing your attention.” he said it simply, placing his hands on her hips and backing her into the quieter corner. She squeaked as her back hit the wall, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as he loomed over her. “Barely got a lick of your attention all week, and m’not happy about it, pet.” His lip pouted slightly, the ring on it glinting at the motion. 

She frowned, wrapping an arm around his neck. “I know it’s been really busy, H, and I’m sorry. I just wanted to help people out.” She sighed, watching him look over her face. The girl looked a little tired, which he didn’t like. 

“I know you do, sweets, but you’ve got t’learn how to tell people no. You’re spreading yourself too thin and you barely have a moment to breathe. Yeah, m’greedy for your attention but I don’t like the idea of you being tired and running ragged because people ask you t’do shit. They know you’ll say yes.” It actually did piss him off. He didn’t think everyone had malicious intent, no, and he knew Y/N was a big girl who could handle herself. But sometimes he had to wonder why they were so comfortable asking such big things of her. 

“I do like to help, though.” She tried to protest but really couldn’t, because he was right. She was bone tired and despite her bubbly nature, she had been deflating slightly as the night went on. Their weekend together was the reprise they got to have where she knew she’d have time to breathe. Selfishly she liked that Harry was able to be blunt and a little mean. He wasn’t to her, but his protectiveness of her really showed. 

“Yeah, but it means I get less time with you. And m’a selfish man, Y/N.” Tipping her chin up, he lowered his face towards her. “Not to mention you’ve been too busy to let me properly fuckin’ kiss you. Like your little pecks darlin, they’re cute, but where’s the kiss you gave me with my load on your tongue? Hm?” 

Y/N sputtered, whining at his dirty mouth but he could tell she liked it. Her eyes had widened but she had no real heat to her scolding, instead leaning into him a bit more. “I didn’t know you wanted me to kiss you like that.” The admission followed a beat of silence. 

“Always want you to kiss me, are you fuckin’ kidding?” He grumbled. “Can’t jus’ give me the best blowie of my life and fuck off. Didn’t let me return the favor which m’dying to do, but even more you’ve been keeping this mouth from me. Don’t like it one bit.” His thumb brushed over the plump bottom lip, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head. “S’a fucking shame. Can’t get how good we tasted together out of my head. Not trying to pressure you if you don’t want to do that stuff, you can tell me to fuck off but.. I don’t think y’want me to.”

“No, I…” She stumbled over her words. “I do want those things. I just didn’t expect you to talk so dirty.” The tilt of her lips gave the clue that she liked it. “I didn’t want to assume it meant more than just that even though I wanted it to and - oh” 

His mouth cut her off. Catching her off guard her lips opened a little bit, letting him be selfish and slip his tongue into her sweet mouth. Humming at the taste, his arm leaned against the wall as he held himself over her while the other kept her jaw angled the way he wanted it. The kiss was just like him. Intense and hot and a little sweet at the end when he pulled back and pressed three more pecks to her lips, rubbing his nose against the side of hers. “None of that shit. Meant a hell of a lot to me, silly little thing. Want to do it all the damn time. So you’re gonna have t’take it easy with giving all your time away, hm? Think I need some more of your help soon… and maybe…” He released her jaw to slide his hand to the back of her neck, massaging it just a little. “Maybe you’ll let me help you, hm? Someone’s got t’take care of such a sweet little thing. It isn’t fair.” 

“H-Harry.” She felt her cheeks getting hot. Harry’s attention had always been intense and maybe that’s part of the reason she’s been so busy this week. Anxiety over being truly alone with him again in case he regretted it, if he didn’t like what they did and didn’t know how to let her down easy- but this was the ideal, she thinks. Regardless of how much he flustered her, or how he was the biggest energy in the room, she found herself preening at the attention he gave her. “It meant a lot to me too.” 

Her hushed voice made him smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss between her brows. “Good. Can we get going, then? Or would y’let me lick your cute little cunt in one of these bedrooms?” Did he say it just to watch her squirm? A little, but only because it was really fucking cute. 

“We can go. I’ve just got to say goodbye to some people.” She sent him a shaky smile as he nodded, pushing off the wall to wrap his arm around her shoulders. It was a new feeling for her to feel so… claimed. They had been around each other pretty consistently for a while but she could feel people looking, considering Harry was usually the victim of her clinging to his arm instead. Open affection wasn’t something anyone had seen from him, let alone with a girl that was so clearly different than him, but something about that made her giddy. 

Harry was impatient in general, but he tampered it down as Y/N said goodbye to the people she knew here. It was just in her nature to be a polite little flower, floating around the room to wish everyone a good evening. Her manners, oddly enough, aroused him. He liked seeing her be so sugary sweet and knowing that it was 100% genuine. It was even more nice to see considering he’d had a glimpse of what a bold and filthy girl she could be. The blowie the night she’d moved in had completely taken him off guard and let him know then and there that her innocence wasn’t all encompassing. She had some shadows to her, and he planned to see how full they could extend. 

His arm was around her as she said goodbye, merely nodding when people acknowledged him and not bothered when they didn’t. All that mattered to him was they were polite to her- though one of the guys had been a bit too bold, especially considering he was right fucking there.

“Her eyes are on her face, not her tits.” He said lowly. “And if you’d like t’keep yours, I suggest you remember that.” There was no full aggression, only a promise that he intended to keep. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d go at someone for her. 

Thankfully the prick flushed, muttering apologies before dashing away so he could use this as an excuse to get them the fuck out of there. 

Harry didn’t love parties. He didn’t like lots of people. He went for 3 reasons only, and they depended on the night. To get a drink, to get a fuck, or for Y/N. Though now he supposed he’d have an excuse for not going to many others. The plan was to keep Y/N to himself and not have to deal with the people he’d fucked around with not getting the hint even after he stated what he wanted. For once in his life he wanted one person and one person alone, and she was under his arm. 

To his surprise, she didn’t say anything about his snarky reply to the guy they’d last said goodbyes to, instead leaning into his side as they approached his car. It was a bit nippy outside and he knew she ran cold, so he’d remedy that quickly. “C’mere.” He sighed, picking her up and placing her on the hood of his car. Stripping his flannel off, he motioned for her to splay her arms out, helping her put it on. “Wasn’t too bad when you left but it’s a little too cold out for you now, hm?” His voice was softened as he stood between her knees, face level with her as he slipped his hands under the new layer. 

“I never remember to grab a sweater.” She admitted, smiling shyly as she felt palms running over her back. This was different. The whole thing was, seeing as Harry’s treatment of her had considerably softened up. He’d always been nice to her, don’t get her wrong! He let her sit on him and mess up his hair and hold his arm but… feeling him be the touchy one for once really made her feel… validated? Appreciated? She wasn’t sure of what the right term would be, but she felt like he liked her more than she had originally thought. “Who’s place do you want to go to?” 

“Hm… maybe mine. I just did a grocery shop. I know you’ve been busy this week, so I don’t want to go and mess up your place.” Y/N would be a bit unsettled if it got messy and he was planning on seeing what exactly he could get her to do with him. 

It had been circling around his mind the whole week, how he wanted to make it up to her. How he wanted to take her properly and feel her cum around his cock and his tongue and his fingers- anywhere he could get it. He was a man starved, pathetically so, but he didn’t have any shame in it. 

“Okay. I like your place.” It was the truth. He had a nice place in her opinion. It was bigger than her own, but not cold. Darker in aesthetic, brick and dark colors and richer patterns. She’d helped him make it nicer after she had seen the state of it the first time, a real bachelor pad that made her worry for his comfort. Thanks to the sweet girl, he had a much more comfortable sectional couch, a coffee table- with coffee table books, no less- and some art. She’d helped pick out his bar stools for his island in the kitchen, too. Little bits of her were all over his place, but that’s how he wanted it to be. 

“I’d hope so. You helped make it.” He snorted, tugging her closer to him so their centers were flush. The silence happened again, this time a little heavier. “I missed you this week.” The sentiment was repeated as he dragged a hand from under the warmth of his flannel and brushed the hair out of her face. The breeze hadn’t been much of a help. “I sleep better when you’re around. Know I like to give you shit and call you a needy pup, but I love it when you’re like that.” Tipping her chin up, he sighed as he observed her soft features. The slope of her nose, the mascara on her lashes that had flaked just a little bit, the slightly faded lip stain. He couldn’t imagine not being obsessed with her.

“I’m glad. I used to think I was a little annoying to you.” She admitted, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m sorry I was so busy. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Historically he’d get grumbly about it but he understood- and she’d usually pop over or invite him to her old flat. 

“Course I mind. Not that you have stuff to do but you overwork yourself and…” licking his lip, he debated on whether or not to say it. “Was just hoping that you weren’t avoiding me, is all. That I didn’t make you uncomfortable last weekend.” 

Her heart clenched in her chest as she saw his eyes dip to the side, for once in his life showing a bit of vulnerability. Harry never seemed anxious about much, his general setting being a blank stare or a smug smirk, so it wasn’t something she saw often. Sometimes when he was drunk he’d get a little mushy about things but he hadn’t had much, if anything tonight. “No. Of course not. I initiated it, remember?” Her hand lifted to his face, the skin slightly cool from the night air. “I wanted to do it. I promise. If I was uncomfortable I’d tell you. Listen…” adjusting slightly, she caught his eye. “I feel the most safe when I’m with you. Sure, sometimes it feels like I’ve got a guard dog, but I feel really secure. I know you’d never hurt me, you always are so careful with me even if everyone else thinks you’re all rough and tumble… I know you and I know you’d only even touch me in ways I like. I really was busy, but I was just nervous you’d regret it too.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed at her admission. While he was over the moon that she always felt the safest with him, he had no idea why she would think he’s regret it. “Never. I just kept thinking about it. I wanted to do it more. I don’t regret anything, and I feel like I’ve got t’make sure you know that I don’t think of you as one of those quick fucks.” Even if she hadn’t said it, he was sure that was a thought that had lingered around in her head. That was his reputation and he’d be stupid if he didn’t know better. 

“I.. I never thought of it as that, no, but I wasn’t expecting commitment.” She admitted back, eyes wide as he looked into his own. It squeezed his chest, the idea of just being with her sexually. That wasn’t what he wanted. 

“No. I want commitment.” He said lowly. “You aren’t just a fuck to me, Butterfly. Not in the slightest. I fuckin’ adore you, y’know that?” He sighed, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip and tugging it slightly before letting it snap back into place. “You’re my girl. You’ve been my girl for a while. I’ve jus’ been a bit of a pussy in trying to initiate anything because the last thing I wanted was for you t’think that you were just someone else I went to bed with. M’tired of that.” All he wanted to do was crawl into bed with her at night and feel her kissing him in the morning or watch her sleepy little face as she dreamt. All the fluffy, mushy shit he used to feel sick from were the exact things he craved. “Couldn’t get it up for anyone else after a while. I was only able to thinking about you and… after a bit, I had no desire to be around anyone else. They didn’t smell like you, didn’t sound like you. My cock was set on you and I think my heart wants to follow.” 

Y/N had to laugh at his last words but also in shock. She’d heard herself at the beginning of their friendship how he’d scoff at the idea of a relationship, made fun of the romance movies she liked, heard about him disappearing at a party for a bit before coming back with messy hair and swollen lips, sometimes a fly undone. But slowly that had stopped, if she recalled. The hookups, the snarky comments about love. It dwindled. Snark still existed for other things but he seemed to be more lighthearted around her. “You… you want like, a relationship with me?” Her eyes rounded at the thought. 

“I’d say don’t act so surprised, but I get it.” He had to admit that, a smile on his face. It surely was a lot for her to process, considering it still had him in a tizzy and he’d had months to work over these feelings. “Yeah. Want you to be mine. M’not good at sharing, though, so you’re gonna have to tell some of these people that you have a boyfriend that wants to love on you a bit when they demand your attention.” There was another pause as his ears turned a bit red. “If, if that’s what you’d want, though. I don’t want to rush you into a label or anything, m’fine with jus’ figuring shit out but I’ve thought of you as mine for a while and-“ 

Her hand pulled him to her, shutting him up with her lips. 

The man, for all his dark demeanor and rough glances, melted under her touch. Hummed into the kiss in surprise, cupping her jaw and reciprocated immediately as her hands went to the back of his neck to hold on to him. That giddy feeling in his stomach was buzzing as she giggled against his mouth as he chased it when she pulled back to get a proper breath.

“C’mere.” He mumbled, nudging their noses. “Lips are cold. Don’t be cruel, little Butterfly.” 

Y/N couldn’t have that, could she? “Sorry, boyfriend.” She smiled against his lips, pressing them right back where they belonged. 

[roseyswords]

FULL MOON SPOILERS!!!!

So first of all..

I was not expecting to see the cherubs this episode. That... That was a big shock. Seeing them and their plotline was certainly interesting. It was funny seeing their reactions to just everything going on with Blitzø.

And speaking of Blitzø. Um fuck?! My heart that hurt!? "I think so highly of you. I didn't realize you think so little of me" like OUCH? I keep adding question marks to my sentences because my brain can't quite comprehend how it's feeling.

I find it really interesting that Blitzø brought up Stolas's imp butlers. This is a part that has stuck out with me really strongly. Cuz we've seen Stolas squeeze the shit outta one of them when angry on the phone with Stella. And it really makes me wonder just what kind of behavior has Blitzø exactly seen of Stolas interacting with his butlers. Because Stolas is a very rich man, who has only imps working for him and Blitzø noticed.

Which is funny because he notices literally nothing happening around him this whole episode. Which feels thematically relevant. He's always been oblivious to the more emotional side of Stolas's affection for him but that is also by design of how Stolas treats him. Remember Stolas is the same guy who used to get routinely bleeped due to his sheer level of hornyness. Blitzø has only ever seen their relationship through a sexual lens.

I also find it very interesting that he goes into that interaction already extremely worried and insecure and scared out of his mind that Stolas is tired of him. Which makes going in and being confronted with Stolas's emotions even more jarring and confusing for him. He's already coming in with an intense amount of anxiety with the singular goal of pleasing Stolas, which just highlights the unhealthyness of their dynamic that Stolas is trying to break away from.

Moving on to Stolas's mind for a bit. It has got to fucking hurt that when you finally put yourself out there emotionally and the other person immediately thinks you must be fucking with them. I think it really opened his eyes to how their relationship has truly been when Blitzø assumes that this serious conversation must just be some really weird roleplaying scenario.

And when Blitzø yells at him and reveals that he thinks of him as this rich pampered jerk, it is a startling difference of perception between the two of them that Stolas now has to contend with. It is so interesting to me how Stolas in this scenario is trying really hard to think about things from Blitzø's point of view in terms of how their deal must be affecting him, but he's also not prepared or emotionally equipped to think about how that must shape how Blitzø sees him as a person.

So overall that just leaves us with a lot of pain, and anguish, and a really beautiful episode.

And wow...that hurt.