#and I've already went to the office to be like 'what do I do!!' and they were like uh idk email us instead bc idk how to help u everyone's | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeonzzzn · 6 months

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I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦

fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭

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chill & kill: sim jaeyun

part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 6.4k

You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.

“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”

You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.

You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.

“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”

You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”

The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.

The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.

You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.

From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.

“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.

He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”

You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”

Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”

“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.

You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.

But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.

You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.

Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—

“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”

“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”

You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.

“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”

You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.

Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.

You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.

Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.

You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?

He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.

In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.

Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”

A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.

You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.

Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.

There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”

“Can I have the police report?”

Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”

You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”

Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”

Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”

Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”

You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.

“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”

Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”

You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”

Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.

You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.

Meaning he wasn’t home.

You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.

“Hello?”

“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”

—

You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.

You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”

Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”

You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.

“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”

Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”

You raised your brow, “Yeah?”

He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”

“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”

Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”

You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.

“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”

You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”

You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”

He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”

You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”

Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”

You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.

—

“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”

You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”

Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”

You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.

Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”

You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”

Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”

You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.

You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.

You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.

The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”

Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.

“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”

Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.

“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”

You swallowed, “Everything.”

Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”

“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”

Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”

“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.

He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”

“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”

Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”

You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”

He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”

“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.

“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”

“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”

Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”

You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.

Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”

It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.

You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.

You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.

“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.

You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.

He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”

Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.

“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.

Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”

“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”

Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”

From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.

He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.

Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.

You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”

You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”

He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”

You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”

His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.

You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”

“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”

The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.

Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”

You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”

“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”

Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.

Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”

You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”

Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”

“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”

“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”

Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.

“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”

He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.

And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.

You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”

“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”

A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.

“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”

You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“

“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”

Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.

“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.

Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.

He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.

“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”

You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.

He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.

What did you get yourself into?

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

#yeonzzzn asks #— 🔪 anon #jake bby #jake sim #sim jake #sim jaeyun #sim jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #ghostface au #enhypen hard hours #yeonzzzn writing #ghostface!jake

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myownwholewildworld · 1 month

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uniformed!joel one shot - the police officer

series masterlist | main masterlist | part ii

pairing: police officer!joel x f!reader.

summary: you're driving back home and, unbeknownst to you, you've committed quite a few traffic offences, noticed by the one and only police officer, joel miller. he's not gonna let you get your way that easily.

a/n: umm hello?? idk what happened, but here we are. i threw this idea to the wind, people seemed to like it, so i started typing and this is what came out. read the warnings and do not judge me please lol this is inspired by this and this ask, so kudos to them! so basically i have decided to start a series of one shots where joel miller wears different uniforms. YEAH, i know, i'm not okay but that's okay. if you guys have any suggestions for this series, my askbox is open! also, i've decided that if i/you guys want, i can write the same uniformed!joel more than once (e.g. two fics of police officer!joel). if someone is interested in being in the taglist for this series, please do let me know. anyways, i do appreciate all comments, reblogs, likes and asks. as always thank you for reading! <3

warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. dark theme. filthy smut. dub-con. age gap, no age gap, you choose (joel is mid-late 40s, reader is at least of legal drinking age). power imbalance (joel is a cop). alcohol consumption (reader is sober by the time it happens). fingering. squirting. oral (m and f receiving). mouth fucking. slut shaming. cheating. rough, public sex. unprotected piv. creampie. joel is a bully and a dick, basically, so be warned. alternating pov. no description of reader apart from having hair that can be pulled. not proofread so i'm sorry.

w/c: ~4.6k.

tagging some people who seemed to be v interested (please let me know if you want to be removed, no pressure!):

@fartcloudfartcloud @liciafonseca @fan-fiction-floozy @sweetlummie

“Shit”, you mumbled as the car keys slipped off your fingers.

You crouched down and blindly dabbed the asphalt, your phone falling off your hand too. You grunted in frustration ― maybe you did drink a bit more than what you had intended. Not to the point where you thought it would be dangerous, otherwise you wouldn’t be driving home. You were already clumsy when sober, so this was no sign of anything, really.

The keys had tumbled under your car, so you got on all fours and bent over to reach. After a few trials, you finally got hold of them. Steadying yourself on the handle of the driver’s side of your car, you got up. Your tiny, fitted skirt had scrunched up at your waist, so you pulled from the hem to bring it back down. Looking around, you hoped you hadn’t flashed anyone.

You had dressed up for the occasion. As you grew older, your group of friends slowly drifted apart, so agreeing on a date and time to meet up had been a fucking miracle. You had been out since midday and sipped on many margaritas to quench your thirst. But knowing you would need to drive back home, you had stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. If you could, you would have gotten hammered. Living in the outskirts of Austin sucked.

You managed to finally open your vehicle and sat down. You hunched down, avoiding the steering wheel, to undo your heels. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips when you took them off ― your feet were hurting so bad, you questioned all of your life choices. A minute later the motor roared awake, and you were on your merry way without a hitch.

That was until you drove out of the city center onto not very well-lit roads. You were driving through an industrial estate when sirens went off behind you. Clicking your tongue, you looked through the rearview mirror, thinking it may be an ambulance asking you to give way.

Ah, no, you were very mistaken. It was a freaking police car, and it seemed like it was asking you to pull over. Great, just fucking great, you thought.

The headlights blinded you, so you couldn’t see the man approaching your car. Then you heard a tap, tap, tap on your window, the officer dazing you with the torchlight. You inhaled deeply, putting on your best smile, and rolled down the window.

“Good evening, officer. What can I do for ya?”, you battered your eyelashes at him, still dazzled by the torchlight.

Maybe if you played all sweet and innocent, he would take pity on you and let you go.

However, you were met with a deep, husky voice.

“License and proof of insurance”, he barked, no good evening miss, no please, nothing. So rude.

When he put down the torch, you caught a glimpse of the guy’s face. Bearded jaw with a prominent moustache, brown curly hair with slivers of silver, an attractive hooked nose, and some devilish hazel eyes. He was in his mid or late forties and was so fucking handsome you almost drooled at the sight.

You bit your bottom lip, a lopsided smile curling at the corners.

“Yes, of course, officer”, your voice was sweet and smooth as you bowed over the passenger’s seat, your boobs casually resting on the steering wheel.

You opened the glove box and handed him the papers, faking the most innocent, girly look you could muster.

“Is there something wrong, officer?”, you asked, leaning on the door frame, gifting him with the tentative sight of your deep cleavage.

His eyes wandered off the papers he was holding and lingered where you intended. You read the tag on his shirt: Officer Miller. Well, Officer Miller looked damn good in that tight uniform. The black shirt clung to his flexed biceps, the buttons slightly giving way to the bulge of his chest, the belt hugging his waist and… good fucking lord, those thighs, the size of a rugby player’s.

Your mouth watered.

You would lie to yourself if you said you were not affected by his presence. In fact, your damp cunt might as well fucking disagree with you. You pressed your knees together, unconsciously looking for some relief to the sudden wet heat gathering in between your legs.

His eyes drifted up lazily, locking on to yours. You swore a muscle on his jaw twitched.

“You were speeding, doing 40 on a 30-mph road. And your headlights are off”, he replied, his tone raspy.

Fuuuuuuuck, that’s why I couldn’t see shit. Were you that drunk? You didn’t feel like it.

Your face expression didn’t flinch, playing dumb might just do the trick. So you giggled, smacking your forehead with the palm of your hand.

“Ah, silly me. But it was well lit up until now, sir, so no harm done, right?”, your honeyed voice pleaded. “I swear this was a 40-mph road a couple of months ago?”

“It was but got changed. Did you not see the road sign?”, he seemed to be very annoyed.

You had no time to answer, because Officer Miller pointed to your lap. For a second you panicked ― surely your arousal had not drenched your clothes, right? You were aware of how wet your pussy was, but not to that extreme. Right? You looked down ― your phone was resting on your lap, but nothing else. A wave of relief overcame you and then you glanced up at him, confused.

“You were talking on the phone while driving, I presume.”

You gasped and promptly shook no with your head.

“No, no, officer. You see, I left it there when I got in the car, I forgot it was on my lap. I promise I wasn’t texting or anything like that.” Your explanation was genuine, but he cocked a brow. “I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”

“Why? Because you’re a good girl?”. That question caught you off guard and turned you on at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. Your clit twitched. You gaped and nodded unwittingly. “I see. Step out of the car.”

Your heart was racing, attempting to jump out of your chest. Maybe you had been too suggestive. But he was the embodiment of the law, surely the officer had had his good share of temptation and would not yield so easily.

You got out of your sedan, slightly dishevelled, and tugged at your skirt so it would stop riding up your thighs. Officer Miller had taken one step back, his eyes measuring you from top to bottom, loitering on your breasts. His tongue quickly darted out to wet his bottom lip ― you were mesmerised by the simple gesture and pondered how it would feel if you choked on his tongue.

That thought made your cunt gush some more. You pursed your lips ― eyes on him, trying to convey normalcy.

“You’ve been drinking and have also been driving barefoot. That’s a total of, what, five offences?”. Miller clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It’s like you’re begging to spend the night in a cell.” His eyes flickered with malice ― and something else. Lust?

You really did not want to sleep in a cell tonight. You just wanted to get home, that was all. Also, most of your “offences” were bullshit. You were certain he couldn’t charge you with half of it, but his wickedness made you wary.

“I’m not drunk,” you said with a languid smile, touching his forearm, his arms crossed at his chest. “I stopped drinking two hours ago, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow ― Officer Miller didn’t believe a word you said.

“I can smell it.” You didn’t know if it was intentional or not, but his eyes drifted down to your pussy.

“I-It?”, you repeated, lips parted.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you for a long minute. Your bravery had flaked a bit, although your cunt was begging for him to do something about it.

Joel was having a hard time curbing his horniness. You were so inviting, so insinuating, it was like you were asking to be fucked there and then. Oh, yes, you were, he knew you were. Showing off your boobs, wetting your lips, rubbing your knees together, playing with the edge of your tiny skirt. He had noticed every single one of your seductive attempts.

His cock was hard, so much so that it was stretching against the zipper of his work trousers. He kept his arms crossed, but what he really wanted to do was to readjust his erection so it wouldn’t be so damn uncomfortable.

“Turn around, hands on the car”, he ordered with a steely voice.

You first looked muddled, but finally obliged, giving him your back ― your palms resting on the roof of your car, your knees pressed together. He was sure your cunt was pulsing, and you were just trying to calm yourself down.

The thought made him mad with lechery. His dick was throbbing already.

“I’m going to pat you down, and then I’m gonna cuff you. Understood?”, he warned you, getting close to you.

You suddenly looked over your shoulder, your smile unwavering. You tilted your pelvis back, your ass against his bulge. You glanced down and then back up at him decisively.

“I’m sure we can work something out, officer?”, you whispered, your butt pressing on his swollen lump.

No, Joel was not imagining things. You were definitely asking to be fucked senseless in exchange for just a warning. He was still contemplating whether to entertain the idea or not. You were tempting, he would give you that. Your body was built to satisfy a man’s pleasure ― he could see that even when you were clothed. Barely clothed. Your top was too small, your boobs almost spilling over the neckline; your skirt was too short, your ass cheeks almost visible ― and he was sure you had some slutty heels on before you jumped into the car.

His cock jerked at the thought of rearranging your guts. Because that was what Joel would do to you if he had the chance. He cupped his groin for a second now that you were not looking, pressing it slightly to relieve some of the tension.

It didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse. He suppressed a frustrated groan.

Joel slotted his right knee in between your legs and forced you to separate them, his heavy boot grounding him. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you’re under arrest for at least reckless driving. Now stay still.” He was fully aware of how the top of his thigh brushed your crotch, but made a titanic effort to ignore it, for his own sanity.

Your panties were so fucking drenched, you feared your discharge might start dripping down your inner thighs. In fact, you let your head down to check discreetly and sighed with relief ― nothing to worry about, he wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

Then he forcefully parted your legs, and you felt the fabric of his trousers sliding against your wet panties. The subtle touch made you jerked your hips up and then back down in surprise, your clothed cunt flushed against his thigh ― you had to swallow the sluttiest moan of your entire life, it felt damn good.

“I’m― I’m sorry”, you mumbled, lifting your body up to break the contact.

You didn’t need to look down to know that there would be a wet patch on his black trousers.

“You should be, making a mess of my uniform like that”, he grunted, exasperated.

Pressing your lips, you inspected every inch of the roof of your car while he patted you down. His big, calloused hands lingered on your underboob longer than necessary, almost cupping them. Both hands travelled down to your waist, his fingertips slightly under the waistband of your skirt.

Your heart was pounding, suddenly unsure of the whole thing. What were you really doing? Were you so desperate that you would let him use you in exchange for letting you go? Were you getting more than what you had bargained for?

It was like the excitement had burnt the last drop of alcohol in your blood and now you were fully aware of what you had unleashed.

But you had no more time to question your attitude, because Officer Miller completely slipped one of his hands under your underwear and buried all of his fingers in your soaked folds, except for his thumb which quickly found your clit. You shut your eyes and moaned audibly, your knees giving way.

His free hand wrapped around your waist to help you stand up, while his fingers traversed your whole slit, from your perineum to your clit, buttering your cunt with your own fluids.

“You are so fucking wet already, you should be ashamed of yourself”, he whispered in your ear while he pushed your ass back into his bulge.

Your treacherous body had awakened at his touch, your clit felt like it was on fire and your cunt was pulsating so hard it was uncomfortable. You rubbed his dick with your buttocks, unconsciously looking for some more friction. Miller groaned behind you, jerking you closer, his cock hard pressed against your ass.

Two of his fingers dipped further down and found your leaking hole, his thumb still rubbing your clit languidly. You whimpered and stirred your hips when one fingertip circled your entrance tentatively. Your back arched, pushing your butt further into his erection.

“Aren’t you a slut?”, he hissed as both fingers slid inside you, your brain not registering his words.

Your moist pussy clenched around his fingers, squeezing them hard. Every time your heart beat, so did your cunt. Officer Miller started fingering you, first slowly, and then picking up a relentless pace. Unable to control yourself, you mewled like a kitten in heat, your forehead now resting against the cold metal of your car and a thread of spit hanging from your mouth. Your needy cunt was so stimulated, so hot, so slippery, you couldn’t stop yourself from coming, even if you wanted to.

So you let go. You orgasmed so hard, you squirted with his fingers still dug in your creamy pussy. But you coming didn’t stop Officer Miller from driving his digits inside of you over and over again, forcing another climax on you a minute later. Your inner walls palpitated so violently, you felt the emptiness of your womb. Then you noticed it: the trickle of your own cum streaming down your inner thighs.

Officer Miller forced his fingers out of you, a pop sound making it obvious that your pussy was drown in your own fluids. The cop tapped your pussy a few times, almost gently, as the last wave washed off your nerve endings. You had never come so hard in your life before. Not even your boyfriend of five years had been able to turn you on this bad.

When your limbs regained some strength, Miller let go of your waist and stepped back. You slowly turned around to face him, but as your eyes drifted down his uniform, you realised that there was a new wet patch on his trousers, this time on his bulge. You had leaked so much, you had drenched his own pants.

You tried to find the words to explain to him that this was not what you had intended. Or was it?

“You’re still under arrest”, his voice was resolute, as if nothing of what just happened had affected him.

Before your neurons could make contact with each other, he handcuffed you, your laced hands resting in front of you, conveniently covering your spent pussy.

“But―”.

“No but’s, blackmailing a cop is an offence too. So that makes it six now, right?”, he cut you off.

You huffed, not believing what he was saying. You had not blackmailed him, not even close, he was just making it up now. Before you could argue, Officer Miller removed the keys from the ignition, shut the driver’s door and locked your car. He then grabbed you by your elbow, forcing you to walk in front of him towards his cruiser.

“Oh, c’mon, you’re now just bullying me”, you complained, your sweet façade quickly toppling.

Miller didn’t reply to your taunting. He simply opened the back door of his Crown Vic and threw you in. You almost tripped but manage to stop the falling. You sat down on the seat, your legs still out of the car, bare soles against the asphalt.

You didn’t know what possessed you, but your cuffed hands darted up and played with the buckle of his belt. Maybe if you gave him some head, he would relax and let you go. You were already in too deep anyway, your whipped pussy living proof of your desire.

“Officer, please, I can make it worth your while if you let me go”, you muttered, your fingers unclasping his belt.

Miller did not say one word, he just stared you down while you held his gaze. His waist slanted forward in an unspoken invitation, his eyes swirling with lust and wickedness.

You were not sure why you were doing this, or if you wanted to do this. But you were a horny mess, your pulsing cunt urging you to keep going, saturating your panties even more. Sure, you could drive home and ask your boyfriend to take care of you, but by the looks of it, you were going to spend the night in a station cell if you didn't do something about it. About him.

With firm hands, you undid the buckle and unzipped his trousers. His big, meaty cock sprung out with no warning, swaying in front of you. He was wearing no underwear. You marvelled at the sight ― his dick was the longest you had ever seen with a considerable girth, veiny and hairy at the base. It looked scary, but also fucking tempting.

“Don’t just stare, do something”, he commanded, grabbing your cuffed hands to bring them closer to his erection.

Ah, someone is impatient, you thought with a smirk before wrapping both of your hands around his circumference. With your mouth agape, close to his leaking tip, you rubbed the precum against his slit with your thumb and then started pumping him. His cock was palpitating, hard and velvety under your clasp ― and warm, so fucking warm you could feel his blood rushing underneath.

His jaw clenched, his eyes transfixed on your moving hands as you upped the rhythm. And then, without prior notice, he fisted your hair in a ponytail and drove his whole dick down your parted lips. You retched when his glans surpassed your uvula and coughed with his cock still in your mouth.

You were suffocating, but he didn’t give a fuck. In any case, he pushed his cock further down, but it had nowhere to go. His pubic hairs tingled the tip of your nose as you looked up, silently asking for mercy with teary eyes.

Miller glanced down at you and the motherfucker just smiled as you were still gagging.

“Look at you. What a whore, you’re taking it so well”, he mumbled under his breath before pushing your head back.

His cock slid out and you coughed to clear your throat of precum, swallowing it. His brutish attitude, although unwelcome, made your traitor of a cunt gush.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat to teach you a lesson. Open up for me, darlin’.”

You didn’t know why, but you just obeyed. Without breaking visual contact, the cop slotted his cock back in between your lips. With his hands on your temples, he tilted his hips forward until his tip stroked the end of your throat. Then he pulled out harshly and started jackhammering your mouth relentlessly, driving his cock in as far as he could every single time, his hairy balls hitting your chin. With Miller taking the lead, your cuffed hands were free. They were lazily resting on your lap until you dipped them down, your index caressing your deprived clit.

You just took it like a champ. After a while, your gag reflex relaxed and you dared to press your lips around his girth, so it would be more pleasurable for him. His slick cock was drumming in your mouth, filling it up entirely, choking you.

Miller pulled your head back sternly ― you were panting like a puppy by the time he was done with your throat. Your eyelashes were damp with unspent tears. You were sure that tomorrow it was going to hurt like if you had caught the worst cold of your life. Your mouth was filled with his sticky precum, a bridge of it connecting your mouth to his cock.

“You’ve not thrown up, well done”, he chuckled darkly. “Clean this mess for me.”

Again, as if you were not in control of yourself, you did as you were told. You licked his throbbing cock, swallowing all the fluids you had swept off his groin.

He lightly patted your cheek. “Good girl, now get up and take that finger out of your pussy.”

You had not realised you had been fingering yourself all along and your clit was begging for some relief. With a trembling sigh, you removed your hand from in between your legs and stood up.

Only then you caught on: he had not come yet. Fuck, you thought.

Did you want this? You were not sure. Letting him finger you and giving him head was one thing, but letting him fuck you was a completely different story. You were not a slut nor a cheater, but he made you feel like one. Your dribbling pussy made you feel like one.

Joel snatched his fingers around your elbow once again and made you walk to the front of his cruiser. He was in extreme need of relief ― his cock was pulsing so hard it was driving him mad with lust. He was gonna fuck that cunt of yours till you begged him to stop.

Unceremoniously, he splayed you down across the hood of his car ― your chest against the metal surface, your ass up in the air and your legs spread wide. If he could take a picture to jerk himself off to, he would.

He needed to see for himself, taste for himself. He was sure as hell that your pussy was drooling, beseeching to be filled to the brim. So he knelt behind you and parted your ass cheeks to have a better look. You whimpered, tiptoeing to give him better access to your soaked flaps.

“You’re such a slut. I could scrunch your panties to fill up an entire glass with your cum. Your thighs are all wet and tacky too”, he couldn’t stop himself from pointing it out, driving his hands up from the back of your knees, up your inner thighs, until they reached your crotch, framing your pussy.

He leaned forward and sipped from the fountain of your underwear, his fingers digging in the flesh of your ass, smelling your sweet sex. You wept, moving your hips against his mouth. Ah, yes, he knew you wanted him to fuck you hard. Very hard.

Joel rode up your tight skirt, exposing your ass to the elements. And then he pulled down your panties and put them in the pocket of his vest, as if they were a trophy. Because they were.

He now could have a better look at your creamy cunt, all smeared with your wanton fluids. Spreading your pussy open with his hands, he lapped you entirely a few times, even your butthole. Joel heard your moans loud and clear, knowing that you had never had your pussy eaten this good before. So he kept on going ― lapping, licking, sucking, biting until you squirted in his mouth, leaking like a broken tap and whining like a bitch in heat.

Joel drank it all and when you were finished, he stood up. He spanked your ass and with a swift movement, impaled you until his balls were flat against your thighs.

You screamed, literally screamed at the top of your lungs, when he stabbed you with his cock. You tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing you could grab. This was exactly what your cunt needed, being stuffed like a goddamn turkey in thanksgiving. Officer Miller drove his cock in and out of you lazily at first, and then he started fucking you stupid with such vigour that your body was being rocked back and forth, the handcuffs sliding against the hood, scratching the metal underneath.

You just moaned uncontrollably throughout the whole thing, unable to quieten yourself. Your cunt clutched around his throbbing dick, squeezing it hard, so hard you felt your muscles strain. Your clit spasmed severely, another fucking climax creeping up on you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK”, you implored to the sky, to him, to whoever was listening.

The cop then fisted your hair in a ponytail and pulled backwards, forcing you up off the hood, your back arching against his chest while he drilled you mercilessly. You were sure the squelching sounds your pussy was making could be heard from a mile away.

Then you finally came again, shrieking ― your treacherous pussy clamping down on his dick, leaking absolutely everywhere, trying to desperately milk him dry. Your eyes welled up, your black eyeliner running down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna take it inside and you’re not gonna complain”, he moaned in your ear and even in your blissful daze, you panicked.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” you mentioned, but you knew it wasn’t going to stop him.

“Ah, do you? Doesn’t seem like it right now”, and then he huffed heavily, letting go, driving his cock as far inside of you as he physically could.

His warm cum filled you to the brim, painting your walls of sticky white. Irremediably, you sighed, heaving, and closed your eyes, letting yourself rejoice in how full you were of his spent, of his cock.

And as soon as it started, it ended. His dick slid out of your crying, sensitive pussy, leaving your damp skin exposed to the cold air.

You took a minute to compose yourself and pushing down your skirt. When you looked at him, he had already tucked away his cock back in his work trousers, his cop uniform slightly in disarray. Now there were more wet, sticky patches adorning his groin area, a mixture of your shared pleasure.

“Can I have my panties back, please?”, you requested, extending your hand to him, with a sunny, albeit quivering, smile.

“No, I’m keeping them.” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Can I at least have a tissue to clean myself up?”, your voice grew smaller as you lost confidence.

“No. I want you to go home with your pussy bursting with my cum, so that boyfriend of yours knows you’ve been fucked stupid by someone else”, he explained, full of himself.

At least you were going home. Or so you thought until you saw him walk to the back door of his Crown Vic, holding it open for you to jump in.

“This means nothing, you’re still spending the night in the cell”, he said, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed, angry. “Are you fucking serious?”, you asked, although what you really wanted to do was cry.

But you swallowed your tears, contrite ― your pride was bigger than your shame. And right now, you felt mortified.

What had you done?

Well, you had gambled, and you lost.

But, on the other hand, he had fucked you so good, so filthy, you were not sure any other cock would measure up to his.

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dccomicsimagines · 1 month

Text

A Sight for Sore Eyes - Jason Todd x Reader

Warning - Gun Violence

Requested by Anon - Can I have Jason Todd run into his ex-wife? Maybe the heat is still between them????!!

Author's Note - I finally finished something! Also this is more like an estranged wife than ex. Hope that's okay!

***

"Stay here," you whispered to the maid who was nervously biting her nails. "I'll take the tea in."

"You sure? I hate that man." She looked around the kitchen as if the walls had ears. They did, but you doubt they were listening to you now. Not with the big meeting going on.

"I'll be fine." You flashed her a smile to hide the butterflies in your stomach.

She added the last cup. "Thank you." She went to go sit in the corner with her head in her hands. Her face pale.

You understood her fear, trying not to feel it yourself. Touching the necklace around your neck, you pressed it against your collarbone. It took you a moment to gather your courage, but eventually you picked up the tray and headed out of the kitchen doors.

The Falcone residence oozed old wealth and a posh lifestyle. Almost like it wasn't funded by blood money.

You paused by the door and reached up to adjust the red rose pin on your shirt. Something Mario Falcone, the current head of the family after the blood bath that was the Holiday murders twenty years ago, added to all the Falcone servants' uniforms.

As if you needed a mark to prove you worked for Mario. You were literally in his penthouse serving tea.

You tapped the pin three times, hearing the slight beep of the recorder.

A lump formed in your throat as you prayed for any help from some higher power. You took a deep breath and quietly entered the office.

"And you want us to help you how?" Mario said from behind his desk. You walked across the plush Persian rug and set the tray on the desk. He gestured for you to stay. You backed into the far corner and folded your shaking hands behind your back.

The man in the other chair squawked. "I need men." You dared a peek. The Penguin looked older than you last saw him. He had a black eye. You wondered who punched him.

Mario leaned back in his seat, holding his fingers together. "What do you have to offer? I know Batman is breathing down your neck." He pursed his lips. "I'd rather not get that kind of attention."

The Penguin wiped sweat from his brow. You frowned slightly.

Mario motioned for you to pour the tea. You did, keeping your eyes on the floor.

"You see..." The Penguin took the cup of tea before you finished pouring. You stopped the tea just in time to barely miss his hand. He took a loud sip. You eyed him before pouring for Mario.

Mario raised an eyebrow. You added sugar to his tea and started to step back.

"If you don't give me men, I can't stop what they will do to you." The Penguin looked up with such genuine fear. Your heart stopped. From the widening of his eyes, you knew Mario's stopped as well.

"Who's they?" Mario glanced at you. He frowned. You quickly moved back to your place by the far wall.

The Penguin shook his head and dropped his cup. "I've already said too much." You stepped forward and knelt down to pick up the cup. Taking the towel you kept in your pocket out, you dabbed the tea stain.

The Falcones spilled. They were hot headed bunch after Carmine passed.

Although from what you knew of the Penguin, he never spilled. Your gut told you something was very wrong.

"Well, I can't help you." You heard Mario stand up. "Not if all you can give me is veiled threats."

"You don't understand." The Penguin stood up, almost hitting you with his cane. "This is your only chance, boy. Don't be a idiot."

You winced as you heard Mario take a sharp breath.

Glass shattered. You saw tea dripping down the far wall. "What did you call me?!"

Not again. You crawled back and stayed near the wall out of Mario's range.

Mario threw as many objects as his sister, Sophia. Neither had regard for who they might hit with those said objects. You had a cut on your arm to prove it.

"You stupid brat. As dumb as your father!" The Penguin's face flushed. "You just dug your own grave and probably mine."

Suddenly, screams echoed from inside the penthouse. The Penguin's face went white as a sheet. He flopped face first onto Mario's desk, spilling the rest of the tea tray.

You winced as everything shattered. Mario grabbed a gun from his desk drawer.

"(Y/N)." Mario tossed it to you. You caught it. It was heavy in your hands, bringing back old memories. You pushed them away as you swore you heard a gurgle on the other side of the door.

Mario took out another gun, loading it. He moved toward his fireplace. You watched as he pressed three different stones on it. A secret door next to it popped open. "Stay here and defend," Mario ordered.

"What?!" You watched him enter the secret room and shut the door. A lock whirled as it resealed. "Bastard," you mumbled.

You tapped the rose pin. "Help."

No response. You hoped it meant they were on their way. The office door rattled. You ducked into the shadows in the corner of the room.

Another scream echoed through the penthouse. The maid. You swallowed hard. You'd have to get to her.

Suddenly, the office door opened and an animal-like monster fell through. It had long claws, crawling on all fours. It sniffed at the Penguin.

You held your breath. It turned your way. It had an owl-like black mask that reveal part of it's jaw. You could see the bone. Zombie?

It let out a terrible shriek. You flinched. It saw the movement and sprang toward you.

You fired, getting it in the face. It flew back against the wall.

Not wasting a moment, you ran out of the room. Another scream came from the kitchen. You ran toward it, bursting through the door to find two more of the zombies surrounding the terrified maid.

Without hesitation, you shot both. They flew against the kitchen cabinets. You ran for the maid, grabbing her hand and going into the pantry.

She seemed to wake up from her shock to slam the door shut.

"Block it." You pointed your gun at the door. The maid ran, tossing bags of rice against the door. When she ran out, she grabbed everything off the shelves to add to the pile with no logical thought in her mind.

You let yourself feel the nausea in your stomach, the adrenaline shaking your very bones.

"What are those?" The maid whispered, freezing as more gunshots and screams echoed from somewhere else in the penthouse.

"I don't know." You swallowed hard, keeping your gun aimed at the door. "Do you have your phone?"

She nodded. "Should I call the cops?"

You shook your head. "I doubt they'd be much help." You held out your free hand. "Let me call a number I know."

The maid eyed you, but scratches on the door made her toss the phone into your hand. She got behind you, shivering.

You sighed and typed a number you knew by heart. It rang, much to your relief.

Your finger twitched on the trigger. The door began to rattle just as Oracle's voice came through the speaker.

***

Jason punched the last Talon. It spun before collapsing in a heap on the rooftop of the Gotham News building. "All clear here," Jason said, holding back a yawn.

He hadn't slept well. If anyone asked, he claimed it was the new bed, but he knew it was because you were no longer sleeping beside him.

Six months since you left. You hadn't bothered to contact him since walking out the door.

Jason stewed. "Red Hood, meet Batman and Robin at Falcone's penthouse. Talons are overrunning the place," Barbara said through his comm.

"Good riddance." Jason turned to look out over the city. The lights shined on the wet pavement. He took a deep breath of the damp air.

Barbara clicked her tongue. "Jason, (Y/N) is there."

Jason's blood ran cold. Your disappointed face flashed before his eyes. His feet were moving before his mind.

"Keep calm, Jason. I was just on the phone with her." Barbara's voice was faint. Jason grappled off the closest building, flying through the air before grappling to the next.

He didn't realize how fast he was moving until he saw Falcone's building in the distance. His legs burned, arms aching.

Jason couldn't let that disappointment be the last thing he remembered of you.

***

Nothing surprised Bruce much anymore. Years of being Batman had led him to expect the unexpected.

However, today was different.

He and Damian crashed through the skylight of Mario Falcone's penthouse to find a blood bath and several feral Talons.

What caused the Court of Owls to make a direct attack against the Falcone family? Why so many Talons? Why were they taking out everyone?

Questions he had to worry about later. Hopefully, you could shine some light on the subject. If he could find you.

Bruce threw a Talon against the far wall before dodging the blade of another. "Robin, find (Y/N)."

"TT." Damian's huff reached his ears just as the Talon next to Bruce shrieked. Bruce threw an ice grenade at the Talon. It exploded upon impact, freezing the Talon in place.

Damian ran out of the room, cutting down two Talons as he went with his katana.

More Talons crawled out of the vents. Bruce grimaced, catching a knife thrown by one of the Talons.

He let out a slow breath, calculating the best strategy before the far window shattered and a flash of red barreled in. The red took out three Talons from their momentum alone. Gunshots rang out quickly, almost making it impossible to identify them as separate shots.

Bruce's eyes widened. All the Talons fell. "Where's (Y/N)?" The flash of red turned toward Bruce. He finally could make out Red Hood, Jason.

Bruce nodded to the Talons. "That was...helpful."

Jason grunted. "Where is she?!"

"(Y/N)'s camera pinged in what looks to be the kitchen," Oracle said. "I'll lead you there."

Jason charged out of the room. Bruce followed, taking out a Talon hiding in the shadows of the hallway.

He hoped they weren't too late as they passed several fallen Falcone guards.

***

A fraction of the door broke off. A clawed hand reached through. The maid screamed. Everything in you wanted to shoot, but you held yourself back. You had two shots left, had to make them count if Bruce didn't make it in time.

Fuck Bruce for taking so long.

Please don't let Jason fall apart if you died. You doubted he was doing well since you left him, you couldn't imagine what he'd do if you died on a mission for Bruce.

"Grab something to fight with," you told the maid as she clung to the back of your shirt. "Anything."

She didn't listen, muttering prayers under her breath.

More chunks broke off the door. You let out a slow breath.

The first zombie started to crawl through, bending to squeeze through the small hole. You waited until it was halfway through before shooting it in the head.

The maid screamed. She pulled at your shirt. You had to fight to not fall back on her. The zombie went limp.

It blocked the hole, but soon it's body was pulled out and another zombie started to crawl through.

You shot that one in the head. It blocked the hole again, but the whole door started to shake. Scratches on the wood.

The other body was pulled out and just as claws enclosed on the edge of the hole, a shout came from the other room. Your heart skipped a beat. You lifted your hand to prepare to throw the gun.

You heard the slice of a katana followed closely by a remark of how disgusting this whole situation was. A smile pulled at your lips. "I think we're saved," you told the maid. She looked up at you before turning to throw up.

Gross, but you couldn't blame her. You wrinkled your nose and patted her back. "I'm sorry," she coughed. "You're so calm. Are you used to this?"

You bit your lip, wanting to say you married into it. However, all you could do is shake your head. "I'm not used to zombies. Not these kind anyway."

She looked confused, but you focused back on the door. "(Y/N)!" Jason's voice echoed from behind the door as it started to shake even more than before.

You froze. How did Jason get here? Bruce promised he'd keep him out of your mission. "Red?" You asked, raising your gun to throw just in case.

"Open the damn door. It's safe," Jason demanded. A rush of anger filled you.

The maid looked at you with wide eyes. "I thought you said you didn't call the cops."

"I didn't." You didn't look at her, keeping your eyes on the door. "How do I know it's you, Red?"

The irritated sigh that followed confirmed it for you. He did that to you a lot. One of the problems in your marriage actually.

"(Y/N), the area is secure." Damian's snotty voice made your anger cool. "You may exit now."

The maid grabbed your hand as you moved to shove things out of the way. She didn't help you, just squeezed your hand until you thought your bones broke.

You opened the door to find Red Hood flying forward to crush you against him. All the breath left your lungs.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but this time it was for other reasons. Reasons you weren't going to think about for now.

"I'm fine, Red," you whispered to him.

"You better be." Jason pulled away when the maid cleared her throat.

"Robin, guide her to safety," Bruce ordered, nodding to the maid. The maid squeaked at being addressed.

Damian opened his mouth to protest, but one look from Bruce silenced him. "Come along," Damian said, taking the maid's arm.

"(Y/N)?" The maid looked at you wide eyed.

"I'll be fine." You flashed her a smile. "Don't worry. Robin will keep you safe."

She bit her lip, but let Robin drag her out of the room.

You looked around the kitchen at the zombie bodies on the floor. The counters were cracked, cupboards pulled down, glass from the dishes covered every surface. Luckily, you were wearing thick shoes.

"Report," Bruce said. You pursed your lips and looked at him. He looked no worse for wear.

Jason tensed. "Wait a minute." He shook his head. You wished you could see his face, but the helmet hid it. "Is this where you were this whole time? You were undercover for him?!" He was glaring at you. You hated when he did that with his helmet on.

"You aren't the only one who can disappear for months," you snapped, narrowing your eyes.

He flinched. "That's low."

"Oh that's low. Isn't it low to not tell your wife that you're running away to space with your ex?" You crossed your arms.

"Enough." Bruce stepped between you and Jason. "Work this out later." He turned toward you, giving Jason his back. "Report."

Jason huffed. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling at the sound. "Mario had a meeting with the Penguin." You tapped your pin. "I recorded it."

"Where are they?" Bruce studied you. You felt touched your sort of father-in-law cared enough to check you for injuries.

"In Mario's office. Penguin fainted once the attack started. The zombies left him alone for the most part." You gestured for them to follow you toward Mario's office.

Jason bullied his way in front of Bruce and next to you. "Talons, not zombies."

You hummed. "So this is the Court of Owls?" You glanced back at Bruce.

"The court has decided to come out of retirement." Bruce frowned. You stepped over a few bodies of Mario's guards. You knew them, but you didn't let yourself feel anything yet.

Jason touched your hand. You allowed yourself to take his hand for a moment before pulling away at doorway to Mario's office.

Penguin was stirring from in front of Mario's desk. Batman went over to him and dragged him up onto the chair.

You went over to Mario's secret door. It was untouched. "Mario is still here," you said.

Jason followed you. "He in a secret room or something?"

"Safe room. Left me out here to defend him." You bit your lip when Jason's head snapped to you. "Stop it."

"Were you his bodyguard?" Jason's shoulder tensed. "Or more?"

You gagged. "No, god. Don't even suggest it." You slapped his arm.

The Penguin squawked awake, blubbering as Bruce interrogated him.

"What am I supposed to think, (Y/N)? You walked out, said you needed space, but then disappeared for six months," Jason growled.

You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at him. "Now you know what I was thinking when you ran off with Starfire, huh?"

Jason flinched. It didn't feel as satisfying as you wished it did.

You knocked on the hidden door. "Mr. Falcone, it's (Y/N). It's safe to come out."

"Starfire isn't really my ex. We just slept together once," Jason grumbled. You rolled your eyes. He was making the same excuses he did six months ago. Nothing changed.

"Doesn't help your case." You punched his arm to shut him up.

Mario opened the door. He smiled when he saw you, but froze at the sight of Red Hood.

A unmanly shriek came out of Mario. He tried to close the door, but Jason grabbed the corner and ripped it open.

Mario backed into his safe room, eyes wide with terror. Jason followed him in. "(Y/N), did you call this thug? I'll have you burned alive." Mario spat, grabbing a gun and aiming it toward Jason. Jason kept walking toward him unbothered.

"I didn't call him specifically." You leaned against the doorway. The adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands trembled as everything sunk in. "By the way, I quit."

Mario shot Jason in the chest, but it bounced off his armor. You covered your ears. The gun shots echoed loudly in the small room.

Jason knocked the gun out of his hand and picked him up by the front of his shirt. He held him up until his feet were dangling off the ground.

You couldn't help feeling warm from seeing Jason was still as strong as ever.

"You don't threatened her." Jason's voice was colder than ice. "Forget her name, forget her face. She was never in your disgusting presence, do you understand?" Jason brought Mario's face close to his helmet. "Do you?"

"Yes." Mario shook like a leaf. You swore you saw the front of his pants darken.

A hand touched your shoulder. Bruce moved you out of the room. "Watch the Penguin. I want to have a word with Mr. Falcone."

You snorted, stepping out to find the Penguin unconscious on the floor. "What a rough day for you." You nudged his side with your toe as Mario screamed from his safe room. "A rough day for all of us."

You sat down in the chair and crossed your arms. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to keep your emotions locked up, but tears still filled your eyes anyway.

***

"Red Hood, wait outside," Bruce ordered. Jason dropped Mario. Mario crumbled to the floor, blubbering.

"Fine." Jason stomped out. He saw the Penguin unconsciousness on the floor. Worrying his lip, he saw the top of your head as you sat in an armchair facing away from him.

A sniffle came from you. Jason's stomach dropped.

He moved to your side and knelt beside the chair. You recoiled, quickly wiping your face with your hands.

His heart fell slightly. "You okay?"

"I'm tired." You sighed, "This was...a lot."

Jason nodded. He reached out and laid his hand on your knee. You relaxed under his touch. A little hope blossomed in his heart.

Even though he was madder than heck to know you were working for Bruce for six months. That Bruce didn't tell him and you didn't try to contact him at all. That you were with Falcone this whole time.

He still wanted you home. Still wanted you to be his wife, partner in life and beyond.

Bruce stomped out of the safe room. "We need to go. The police are on their way." You jumped up at the sound of his voice. Jason slowly stood, grabbing your hand. You let him.

"I should wait here for the cops," you said softly. Your hand trembled in his.

"Not necessary." Bruce pursed his lips. "I'll give a copy of your video recording to Gordon. It will be enough."

Jason squeezed your hand. "I'm taking her home." He stared at Bruce, daring him to say something.

You looked at him slightly surprised. "Our home?"

"Is there anywhere else, sweetheart?" Jason's voice cracked. He cursed his helmet for hiding what he hoped was the love in his face.

"No." Bruce laid a hand on Jason's shoulder. Jason tensed.

"What do you mean no?" Jason snarled. You squeezed his hand gently.

Bruce stepped closer. "It's best if (Y/N) is kept somewhere safe since she is a witness. You remember what the court does to witnesses." Jason pulled you into his side suddenly, his arm around your waist. You gasped, but relaxed into him.

"Our place is safe." Jason bit his lip. He tried not to think about you being pinned to a wall by Talons, bleeding to death as you screamed his name. A lump formed in his throat.

"It is, but you know the cave is safer." Bruce's lips pursed. "(Y/N) needs to be cleared for any trackers as well."

"He's right." Your voice shook. Jason studied you, noting your trembling lips, widening of your eyes, a sickly pallor overtaking your cheeks.

Jason swallowed hard. "Fine, but I'll take her."

Bruce nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less. Take the batmobile." He pressed the remote key to the batmobile into Jason's free hand. Jason looked at it before closing his fingers around it.

Jason started to lead you from the room, but you stopped. You pulled away from him. His arm felt empty without you. "Please make sure Mia is safe. She's the maid, she doesn't know anything,"

"She will be safe." Bruce rested his hand on your shoulder. You and Bruce shared a long look. Jason's stomach tightened at the sight. When had you and Bruce became so close? "Now go."

You nodded, quickly using your sleeve to wipe your face. Jason stepped toward you at the sight. You took a deep breath. "(Y/N)," Jason whispered, reaching out to you.

You flinched. "Not now." Brushing his arm away, you walk past him and out the door.

Jason watched you go with a sigh before quickly following you.

"Good luck," Bruce said so softly that Jason almost missed it. It was only the threat of leaving you alone that stopped him from going back in and unleashing his rage onto Bruce.

***

"Thank you, Alfred." You gave him a hug, even though you were only wearing a oversized robe. It did little to protect you from chill of the batcave, but you had to toss your clothes after going through several scans and a bug sweep.

"You're welcome, Miss (Y/N). It is good to have you home." Alfred patted your back before pulling away to look you in the eye. "Now head upstairs. I have clothes waiting in Master Jason's old room." You frowned slightly, but Alfred held up a hand. "And Master Jason knows not to enter unless you give him permission."

You smiled at the thought of Jason being locked out of his old room. "Thank you again." You turned and headed upstairs.

Bruce's study still looked the same. You paused at Bruce's desk as the grandfather clock door swung closed behind you.

The gold frame caught your eye. You traced it with one finger, smiling sadly. It was you and Jason on your wedding day. You were wearing a nice dress you got from Walmart, he in jeans and a button down.

That day had been magical. The beach was warm, sand soft under your feet. Jason had a boyish grin through the whole ceremony.

You shook your head. No point staying in the past now. You left Bruce's study and made your way upstairs.

The manor was quiet. You closed your eyes to enjoy the peace, the safety.

A lump formed in your throat as you remembered the blood, the bodies of people you gotten to know over six months.

Tears burned in your eyes. "Damn it." You covered your face and hurried to Jason's old room.

The room smelled of lemon and fresh laundry. You opened your eyes, taking in the familiar ACDC poster on the wall, the red comforter on the king sized bed. An old pair of pajamas was folded neatly on the bed.

You picked up the pjs and headed into the bathroom.

Turning the water as hot as it could go, you waited to let the steam fill the room before you let yourself grieve.

***

Jason carefully balanced the tray he prepared with one hand and knocked on door with the other. Steam rose from the mug of tea and bowl of soup he had made for you.

He hoped you would accept them. That you would let him in.

A long moment of silence followed his knock. "Come in," you said weakly. He heard the roughness of your voice. His heart ached at the thought you had been crying.

Jason turned the knob and slowly opened the door. You were sitting on the bed, towel draped over your head and his old pjs on. Warmth flooded his gut at the sight.

"I brought you something to eat and drink." He walked past you and set the tray on the side table. You pulled off the towel at his voice, staring at him with a calculated gaze. Your eyes were swollen and red.

"Thanks." Your gaze dropped to his body. Jason couldn't stop himself from blushing. "Did you lose weight?"

"Haven't been eating as much." Jason turned away. He went to stand by the window, looking out at the dark gardens below.

You hummed. He heard you sip from the mug of tea. The silence that fell was thick. Jason almost couldn't breathe.

"I see you are wearing your ring," you whispered.

"And you aren't wearing yours." Jason spun to face you. You cupped the mug in your hands, staring down into it.

"I was undercover, Jason. I couldn't have a wedding ring." You reached for your neck. Jason blinked when you pulled out a simple gold chain necklace with the ring attached. "But I had it on me."

Jason's voice caught in his throat. "Why did you go undercover and not tell me?"

You sighed. "It was only supposed to be for a few weeks. Mario Falcone was doing business in Italy. I came to Bruce and asked him if I could get away, he offered the job."

Jason sank onto the bed next to you, but left a decent distance between you and him. A distance that honestly hurt. "And it turned into six months?"

"I was working as a waitress at a cafe Mario was frequenting there. There was an attempt on his life. I saved him, he hired me on the spot." You sipped your tea. "I was still angry with you, so I took him up on it."

Jason leaned forward on his knees. "So you were being petty? Disappearing because I left you? At least I left you a fucking note."

"You left me a note saying you'll be gone for months in space with Kori." You narrowed your eyes. Jason scowled back at you. "On our anniversary."

"It wasn't our anniversary." Jason stood up and paced in front of you.

"Oh, right. It was the day before." Sarcasm slipped into your tone.

Something snapped inside Jason. "Nothing happened between me and Starfire! We slept together once a long time ago!"

"That's not even the point!" You set your mug back on the tray.

"Then what's the point, (Y/N)?!" Jason threw his arms in the air.

You grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him. Jason caught it easily. "You idiot! Maybe the point was that you didn't tell me in person?! That you didn't even discuss it with me! I'm your wife and you ran off to space without even bothering to check with me!" Tears filled your eyes.

"Fine, it was a mistake not to talk to you about it!" Jason threw the pillow back onto the bed. "But you don't get to just disappear on me! What happens if you died while you were with that bastard Falcone?! You would do that to me?! Leave me to find out from Bruce that you died on his mission!"

"Like you couldn't have died in space and did the same to me! At least I was on earth!" You straightened your shoulders.

Jason towered over you. You glared back at him.

The red faded from his vision. He dropped his shoulders, taking a step away from you. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

You sighed and turned away from him. "We're just going in circles."

Jason studied your back. He closed his eyes and took a soothing slow breath.

Alfred told him once after he started dating you that relationships sometimes meant swallowing your pride. Letting go to move on.

He also said sometimes an apology can fix more than you think.

"I'm sorry." The words left Jason's lips freely. "I messed up. You were right. I should have talked to you about going to space. Even if it wasn't with Kori, I should have discussed it with you."

You peeked over your shoulder at him. "I'm sorry too. I should have gotten a message to you. Let you know where I was and that I was as safe as I could be."

"You shouldn't have left in the first place. How were we supposed to work it out if you weren't here?" Jason grumbled, smiling when you let out a little laugh.

"I guess we're both to blame." You bit your lip. A moment of silence passed between you.

Jason wanted to ask you to come home, be his wife again...but what if that wasn't what you wanted? Maybe you didn't want him anymore? He rocked on his ankles.

"What should we do now?" you asked softly, eyes on the floor.

Jason put his hands in his pockets. "I don't know."

You pursed your lips and sank down onto the edge of the bed. "I don't want to give up on us."

Jason dropped to his knees as if you stole the air out of him. "Sweetheart, I don't want that either." He shuffled until he was knelt in front of you. You took his hands. He frowned at how cold you were, trying to rub warmth into them. "I love you. Always have, always will."

You looked at him with a glimmer of a smile on your lips. "I love you too."

Jason leaned forward. You met him halfway. The kiss shattered any resentment or anger Jason had left inside him. He could only think that you were here, you loved him, you wanted him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. Jason picked you up, chuckling when you gasped in surprise. He kissed you again as he laid down on the bed with you.

***

You woke to the late afternoon sun shining through the window. Stretching, you felt Jason's callused hand on your bare hip. He squeezed gently before sliding his hand up around your waist to pull you back into him.

He was warm, a human furnace. You rolled over, opening your eyes to take him in.

Jason had dark circles under his eyes, his face thinner than it was before you left. However, he was still the same. You reached up to trace his lips with your thumb.

He mumbled in his sleep. You leaned forward to steal a quick kiss. Jason's eyes opened the moment your lips touched his. He rolled over, pulling you halfway onto his chest.

You laughed, grinning down at him. "Morning, handsome."

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Jason smirked back at you. His fingertips tickled your back slightly. "God, I missed you."

"I missed you too." You rested your chin on his chest, watching him. Jason's hand moved to the back of your neck. You blinked when you felt them touch the clasp of your necklace. "What are you doing?"

Jason undid the clasp and pulled your necklace off. Your wedding ring sparkled in the sunlight. "I want to put your ring back on your finger where it belongs."

Your heart melted. "Okay." You watched him slid the ring off the chain and take your hand. He slipped it on your finger. "I remember you missed my finger a few times during the ceremony."

"Because I was too busy looking at you." Jason sighed, holding up your hand to study your ring. "Beautiful."

Your face burned slightly. "Bruce has the photo on his desk."

Jason hummed. "How did he get a picture?"

"Must have made a copy of the one we gave Alfred." You closed your eyes, turning your head so your ear was pressed against his skin. His heartbeat soothing some of the worry in your belly.

Jason laid a hand in your hair. "Can we promise that if either one of us has to leave for a long mission, that we'll take the other with?"

You opened one eye to look at him. His jaw firm. "You're serious?"

"I am." He looked at you without wavering.

"Okay." You smiled, opening your other eye. "But I doubt I'll go undercover again. It sucked."

Jason hummed. "And space sucked. All the food was terrible and all the alien girls wanted to fuck me, but I told them I was married to the most beautiful woman in the universe who would kicked their asses if they laid a hand on me."

You snorted, kissing his chest. "Charmer." You sobered when you thought about last night. "What are we going to do about the Court of Owls?"

"Well..." Jason groaned, pulling you fully on top of him. You rolled your eyes when you felt how excited he was. "Right now, I think we should celebrate being together."

"You mean celebrate again?" You raised an eyebrow, sitting up as you straddled his hips.

"And maybe again afterward? If you're willing?" Jason smirked, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Then once we're completely done celebrating, we can see what intel they found last night."

You couldn't stop yourself from grinning back at him. "Fine." You leaned down to kiss his lips. "I love you."

"And I love you." Jason suddenly flipping you so he was on top. You laughed before you lost yourselves in each other.

#dc comics imagines #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc reader insert #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #batman #batfamily #batfamily imagine #batman imagine

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selineram3421 · 8 months

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*watching Hazbin Hotel and sees this deer man kicking his feet* I must have this in a fic!

Lovesick Alastor

Alastor X Reader

Warning ⚠

⚠ The tale of the Radio Demon falling in love. Blood, possessive, obsessive, yandere coded Alastor ⚠

Alastor had felt indifferent to romance for years.

What a silly thing! It was too stupid, dangerous, something that can turn you into a fool and get you killed.

Yes, he stayed cleared of it in life and in Hell.

That is until he got to know you.

You.

A lovely demon that is passionate in everything they do. A strong, powerful, and loving person who can be a bit of a klutz at times.

The first time he met you, you were dancing and singing to a song playing on the phonograph, the vinyl having a very energizing tune.

Rosie had sent him to you to try and start up a deal. You were starting up a shop nearby the colony and needed help getting your footing into the door. Your store was lacking in attention.

The perfect person to get a soul from.

Something held him back though. He just had to get to know the demon that tripped over their feet when spotting him.

"Falling for me already?", he joked.

But it was him who fell first.

You shined so brightly, how could he not?

Instead of having your soul the Radio Demon set out to have your heart.

Rosie was surprised that her friend did not make a deal and questioned him, curious with the change.

"Alastor, you never turn down a deal! Especially when this one is so easy.", she put down her tea cup, setting it down on the saucer.

"It's nothing to be concerned about, really. I just found something better.", he grinned and ate an appetizer.

"Hmm, alright. If you say so.", she let it drop for now.

Alastor paid a visit to your shop everyday.

He helped you renovate, pick out the best products for you to sell, and even had the pleasure to celebrate the first official opening.

Your shop was that of knick-knacks, it had things for customization. Mostly for anniversaries, birthdays, and celebration sorts. Doing things like engraving, embroidery, and carving.

One day you gave him a gift of his own.

"I wanted to thank you for all the help you've given me over the past few months.", you smiled and gently placed a small round box in his hand. "I hope you like it."

"Oh! And what is this?", he said and opened it, hearing music and a small smoke figures rising from the box to dance.

He noticed that the figure looked a lot like him and you, which got his dead heart to skip.

"This is wonderful."

Alastor looked up from the box and saw you beaming with joy.

"I'm so glad you like it!"

"No darling, I love it.", he corrected and took your hand. "If my guess is right, might I have the pleasure of courting you?"

"Only if you are true.", you squeezed his hand.

"Nothing but for you.", he lifted your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

After that he quickly went to Rosie and almost kicked the door down.

"I have news!"

"Don't you kick my door!", his friend walked over to greet him.

The Radio Demon's smile was wide and he had an extra bounce in his step.

"I have news."

"You've said that already.", Rosie guided him over to her office.

After settling in, she sat down and patted the seat next to her. "Now, tell me what's got you so theatrical. Not that you aren't but this is more than usual."

"I can't sit now! I have to prepare!", the red dressed demon exclaimed. "I've begun courting someone and they've already given me a gift. I must return that tenfold! No! A hundred times more! A thousand! Millions!"

Rosie gasped and stood in shock.

"You? In love? I never thought I'd see the day!"

Alastor quickly turned towards the door. "I need to get them flowers!"

The woman quickly put a stop to his rambling.

"Now hold on old boy.", she sat him down. "Have you given thought to what they like the most? Surely you must have more ideas than just the old rose bouquet."

"Of course!", he laughed and pulled out a list from his chest pocket.

Once getting the all clear from his friend, and more ideas for gifts and actions, he took off to get something that would make you happy.

Alastor did everything and more.

Spoiling you with anything you could ever desire. Of course, this also caught the attention of his rival.

"When the fuck did this happen!?", Vox stared at the distorted screen.

It was a picture of the Radio Demon and a lovely looking thing on his arm.

"Don't know but its what Velvette found while scrolling.", Valentino said while cleaning his gun. "They don't look that entertaining."

The next day you found the underling of T.V. Overlord in your shop.

"Hello? Is there something you'd like to place an order on?", you asked walking over.

"Hello! My boss sent me here.", they handed a clipboard to you. "Please sign here for the package."

"Package? I didn't buy anything.", you said confused.

"Something was sent to you from my boss. This is just for confirmation that you received it.", they pushed it closer to you.

"Why?", you looked over the paper, not even taking the clipboard from the demon.

"Please just sign it.", they sighed.

"Dear? What's taking so long?", Alastor walked out of the back room, static growing louder once seeing the demon with the Vox-tech logo on his jacket. "Why are you here?"

"I'm j-just doing my job, sir.", the demon froze.

"Alastor.", you said, quickly getting the deer demon's attention. "I'll handle this. Don't you worry.", you smiled.

"Very well.", he quickly agreed and backed off, glaring at the demon. "Don't let this take long.", he threatened them.

You turned to the demon and smiled.

"I reject it, whatever it is."

Of course Vox wasn't happy with that.

Alastor was pissed.

How dare that piece of technologic crap try and get your attention. You were his, he had your affection first and it would also be your last. You would be with him forever and no one will take you.

So, to make sure this didn't happen again, the smiling demon sent back the Vox-tech worker back in a bloody box.

"Darling~", he hugged you from behind.

Both of you were in the back of your shop again, you were going over your stock.

"Come with me to this hotel I saw on the news. It looks quite entertaining!"

"I'd love to Alastor but you know I have to do my work.", you caressed the side of his face. "I'll let you know when I can visit as soon as I'm done with the set of rings."

"Rings?", he asked.

"Yes, there was this couple celebrating an anniversary and wanted their wedding rings engraved.", you smiled.

"Still together even after death? How romantic.", the deer commented. "I suppose I can wait for a bit longer. Though I do wish you could just drop everything."

"You know I can't.", you laughed and kissed his cheek.

Satisfied for now, the Radio Demon left for the hotel. Of course not everything was a smooth sailing but he managed to get everything settled for you to join him.

And when you did he was ecstatic.

"Darling! I see you finished those rings!", he twirled you in a hug.

"I missed you too love.", you hugged back.

The hazbin crew was shocked seeing him so affectionate with you.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Oh how rude of me!", Alastor set you down but still held you close. "This is my significant other!"

"The fuck! Is this why you kept saying no to my offers!?", Angel crossed his arms.

"They are not the only reason! You are disgusting!", the deer demon grinned.

"What offers?", you questioned.

"This fellow kept offering to warm my bed dear."

"Oh?"

The room got darker and the walls started to distort.

"Hold on!", a blonde jumped in. "There is no killing guests in the hotel!"

"Charlie! Get away from them!", a white haired woman ran over with a spear.

You rolled your eyes and stopped.

"Sorry.", you smiled. "Didn't mean to scare you, I wouldn't dream of ruining your carpets!"

The two calmed down.

Alastor laughed and pulled you away from the group. "Don't you worry my darling, I made sure to threaten the spider properly. Let me show you around! I have a room set up to your liking."

"What? When did you-?"

"Let's go!", he teleported you with him using his shadows.

Everyone stood confused in the lobby.

"When the fuck did he start dating? How crazy is that demon to accept?"

Meanwhile you and Alastor were in your own little world. He showed you your hotel room and conjured up a door to connect your rooms together.

"If its too much I can get rid of the door.", he said and turned to look back at you. "What do you think?"

"Its very sweet of you.", you yanked him down by his bowtie. "Why didn't you tell me about the first time that spider made a comment like that?", you said in a commanding tone.

Your deer chuckled and kissed you.

"Because I knew that you would get jealous and I love to see you get like this.", he pulled you by the waist and into a dip. "We both know that I'd never accept something like that. Especially if its not you."

"I won't go there.", you moved your hands to hold his face. "I know you don't like things like that."

"I appreciate it my love.", he pulled you back up. "Now, what else would you like to do?"

"They said no killing, right?", you asked.

"Yes, no sinning here in the hotel my dearest.", he went to lie down on your bed.

"I can give him a good scare though.", you smiled and laughed darkly, plotting out a scheme.

Alastor sighed dreamily, kicking his feet back and forth as he watched you set up a plan.

Yes, he had fallen but he doesn't regret it.

Not one bit.

From: Lovesick Alastor Headcanon

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @lbcreations-blog @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

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generalsmemories · 1 year

Text

Jing Yuan the... Lion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: how would the characters react when jing yuan somehow magically transforms into a lion (like mimi) for a day? x reader is ok!! - requested by @/ephemeralyae

✧ contents: humor, established relationship, fluff, mentions of other characters

✧ a/n: i've noticed a certain pattern with my writing sideblogs, and that is the fact that i'll always get this sort of request HAHA. And in line with similar patterns, this will be the first post written in a headcanon format! i went the x reader route with just a hint on how characters would react (not that big of a reaction, moreso what they have to do in this situation) so i hope it was okay!

not beta-read again lmfao.

✧ He is as confused as everyone else with this situation. One moment he's sitting idly by his office, writing on his desk and the next moment he's left staring dumbfoundedly at a gigantic paw quite similar to the paws he squishes quite frequently back at home.

✧ Is the quick rundown you're given when you arrive at the Seat of Divine Foresight along with Fu Xuan and Yukong - having been frequently spammed with incoherent messages from Qingzu in the span of a few minutes.

✧ And although this very much is a serious situation - nevermind the mystery that the Divine Foresight is always absent from his usual seat, if he actually stays in this lion form for more than a day everything onboard the luofu will be behind schedule and he will for real be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight because he's going to be taken in by the alchemy comission to figure out how to turn him back.

✧ And yet, as everyone is scrambling around trying to figure out a solution to turn him back and a reason to why he specifically was turned only - you're just left staring straight back at the lion with soft white hair and golden eyes who seem all to relaxed when staring back at you.

✧ Heck the tail is even comfortably swaying back and forth - even though he's well aware of the chaos he's caused.

✧ "... You know everyone in this room is in a disarray because of you, right?" a small roar that oddly sounded like his usual laugh, "... Yukong have to be able to discreetly send a message to the other flagships without even alerting anyone else in the Palace of Astrum, you are aware of that, correct?" you swear you saw the lion nodding his head.

✧ "... Master diviner Fu Xuan is going to have a lot more on her plate with this added problem, you agree to that right?" you ask once more, the lion only gave you a closed eyed smile.

✧ "Yanqing will be disappointed when you're not going to spar with him today, you've already avoided it for the past 2 weeks and you promised him today," the lion merely turns his head around, promptly ignoring you with a side glance of mischief.

✧ How can he be a scoundrel even when turned into a lion.

✧ "... Mimi would probably attack you the moment she spots you," you settle on saying. And somehow that information alone was enough for the once relaxed state of the lion to be in distress. Jing Yuan's once laid down form springing back into all fours - the sudden action making Qingzu who were still sorting out documents yelp.

✧ "... You know you could've tried saying you would leave him to see if he would react," Fu Xuan comments as the lion before the two of you makes his way over, "I think he would die on the spot if I said that, now how do we get him to-" you're unable to finish your answer back to the master diviner when you're suddenly pounced on by Jing Yuan.

✧ And as anyone would've expected, the much heavier weight makes you topple down to the floor with a loud bang.

✧ "... Did he already gain some feline traits?"

✧ You're unable to answer the question, desperately slamming your fist down on the lions mane before you're able to wriggle your head away from the amount of fur in your face, "Jing Yuan-" you wheeze, "I'm barely able to carry you while you're human, what made you think I can carry you when you weigh close to 200 kilograms?!"

✧ The lion seemed to not care, merely nuzzling his nose against your hair while making no move to actually get off of you.

✧ "... You know what, let's just call the healers down here and leave him here for the day. I have other business to attend to and Yanqing is already blowing up my phone asking where this idiot is," you say, tapping the lion on top of you on the nose before letting your hands tousle the mane, blinking in surprise at how oddly soft it was.

✧ "... On second thought I'll stay here until the healers come," you rephrase, continuing to run your hands through the mane, Jing Yuan seeming to purr in content at the excessive rubbing.

✧ So this is why Mimi is so content whenever you would excessively rub her everywhere.

og request here!

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #slowly making our way through these requests HAHA

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

Text

🎉The Eras Tour - 3k Special

Note: Thank you all so much for being so patient with me as I've been going through some writers block. I hope this is all you've been waiting for! It's time to say hello to an old friend ☺️

NO TAG LIST

“What are you doing?”

Arthur jumped and slammed his laptop shut when a voice sounded right next to his ear. He placed a hand on his heart as he turned to look behind him. He rolled his eyes once he saw who it was.

“Did you have to scare me like that? Mon Dieu.”

Max crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The Monegasque narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in my brother’s house?”

Max blinked. “You changed the subject.”

Arthur huffed, knowing that he wouldn’t be getting a straight answer anytime soon. “If you have to know, I am looking for a birthday present for my girlfriend.”

The Dutchman’s eyes widened. “Her birthday isn’t for another few months though, right?”

Arthur nodded his head. “Oui. But it lands on a race weekend again. I didn’t get to spend much time with her last year, so I wanted to make this year special. I don’t think she’ll mind if we do something early.”

Max reached over and grabbed a chair. The chair dragged on the tile as he brought it closer to the table. He sat down and leaned his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to see the computer better.

“What are you doing?”

Max looked up at Arthur. “I’m going to help. I already have my idea for her birthday, but maybe we can conjoin them?”

“Are we talking about gosse’s birthday?”

Arthur let out a groan. “Yes Charles. I was looking for a present for my girlfriend.”

Charles, who was eating a bowl of cereal, walked closer to the desk. “I think I was just going to go with another gift card. She has too many pairs of Crocs.”

Max snorted. “And whose fault is that?”

The Ferrari driver scoffed. “How was I supposed to know that everyone else got her the exact same pair.”

The younger Monegasque rubbed his eyes. “Can we please get back to the subject, or I’m never going to find the right gift. Max, what did you get her?”

The Dutchman pulled out his phone from his pocket and opened an image. “Porsche came out with a Lightning McQueen styled car. I was going to rent it for her or see if I could get it on a loan.”

Arthur’s head thumped on the desk with a whine. “How can I top that?”

Max felt a bit bad at the dejected man. “I’m sure you can come up with something. What are her interests?”

A sigh came out of Arthur’s lips. “Cars, Formula 1, Top Gear, Texas, Cars 2.”

Charles snorted. “Maybe let’s go away from the cars and her day job.”

Max thought for a moment. “What about a spa day? Girls like spas, right?”

Charles made a face. “Gosse isn’t like that though. What if we all went karting with Sebastian.”

“But you said no to job and car related things. She has her own karting place inside her house, Charlie.”

“What if we went to a movie theater. What is showing these days? She mentioned that one actor that she liked.”

“Oh, Glen Powel in Twisters?”

“That’s the one.”

“But it doesn’t come out for another two months.”

“I don’t see you giving any good ideas, Max.”

“What about a dog?”

“She barely takes care of herself. How would a dog work when she’s gone almost the full the year?”

Arthur’s head suddenly shot up, making Max and Charles jump at the abruptness. His hands flew to his laptop, opening the screen. He typed a few things before yelling.

“That’s it!”

Max peered at the screen. “Taylor Swift tickets?”

“Why are you three talking about Taylor Swift?”

The three men’s heads turned around quickly. Alex walked into the small office, holding Leo to her chest. The little sausage puppy was contently sleeping in her arms.

Arthur turned back around to start looking. “Y/n’s birthday is coming up and I needed to get her a gift. And these two,” he pointed to Max and Charles, “are no help.”

Alex stepped forward and handed Leo to Charles, who immediately started kissing his head. She leaned down next the Arthur’s chair and looked over the screen.

“Charles, Kika, Pierre, and I are going to the Milan show if you want to join us.”

“He is?”

“I am?”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you this last month.”

The man with the dog shrugged. “I have learned to just say yes to anything you say, mon amor.”

Alex straightened and took out her phone. “I can ask for you and Y/n to join us? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Arthur looked up at her. “Thank you so so much, Alex.”

She gave a soft smile. “Anything for my future sister-in-law.”

Arthur immediately turned away with a blush while Max and Charles squawked behind her.

“They’re just babies! They can’t get married! They’re not even engaged!”

“Nuh-uh, kid is not getting married until she is 35. No way.”

The only response was the clicking of Arthur’s computer. Both older drivers peered at him.

Max pressed a finger to Arthur’s shoulder. “You’re not getting married anytime soon, right?”

The Monegasque felt trapped under the stares of both drivers. His mind immediately went to the small velvet box in the bottom of one of his shoes back at your shared flat. So, he did what any sane person would do. He stood up quickly, grabbed his laptop, and made his way to the door.

“That is a great question, Max. But I really have to go, uh, walk my fish and vacuum the front lawn! Alex, can you text me the details for the concert? Thank you so much!”

The slam of the door told the three that the younger was long gone.

Charles, who was still holding a now squirming Leo, had a confused look on his face. “They don’t have a fish.”

“And they don’t have a front lawn.”

“You two are idiots,” Alex mentioned as she made her way out of the office.

Arthur sighed when he got in his car. A ping from his phone made him look at it. He smiled at his lockscreen, which was a picture of the two of you from your first win in Monza last year. His thumb swiped his phone open to see the text was details from Alex.

After replying, he put the car into drive and headed back to your apartment. He knew that you were probably asleep, so he quietly opened the door to your apartment. When he reached the bedroom, he was correct about you sleeping when he got there.

He kicked off his shoes and gently climbed into bed behind you. When he wrapped his arms around your middle, you gently rolled over into the embrace.

“Hi,” you murmured sleepily.

Arthur placed a kiss to your forehead. “Hello, mon ange. Did you have a nice nap?”

You nodded against his chest. “Very warm and snuggly. Where were you?”

“At Charles’s. Max was there.”

You hummed. “Of course he was. What were you doing there?”

The Monegasque sighed against your hair. “We might have been talking about your birthday.”

A whine escaped your lips as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you went over the math.

“But my birthday isn’t until a few months.”

Arthur nodded his head. “I know. But it’s a race weekend again. I wanted to do something a bit more special than just sing to you in the garage.”

You closed your eyes once more, still a bit sleepy. “I would have been fine with that. As long as Charles doesn’t get me another pair of Crocs, I think I’m fine.”

A smirk formed on the Monegasque’s face. “So, you’d be fine without a present.”

You nodded against his chest. “As long as I have you, I’ll be content.”

“So, you want me to tell Alex that you don’t want to go see Taylor Swift.”

Now, Arthur should have been prepared for you to bolt up. However, he didn’t expect the sheer force of the top of your head to hit his nose on the way up. The two of you yelped at the contact. Arthur held his nose while you held your head.

“Shut up, you did not!” you squealed.

Arthur winced, pulling his hand back to see if his nose was bleeding. “I did. Ouch chérie, that hurt.”

You gasped and threw yourself at him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He smiled as he held you tightly in a hug. Arthur knew that you had wanted to go to a concert, but also knew that you wouldn’t buy the tickets for yourself. You always claimed that other people deserved it more than you since you had met Taylor multiple times.

“We’re going with Alex, Charles, Pierre, and Kika.”

“Perfect.”

“And it’s next weekend.”

He was ready for the headbutt this time. You looked at him with wide eyes.

“What are we waiting for? I need to start planning outfits and make friendship bracelets!”

You quickly unraveled yourself from his arms and ran out of the bedroom door. What you missed was the fond smile on Arthur’s face as he watched you go. If he knew this would make you so happy, he would have taken you to a concert earlier.

“Arthur! Get your ass in here! We need to go shopping!”

The man rolled his eyes lovingly as he got off the bed. “Yes, chérie. I’m coming.”

The Leclerc brothers were down bad for their girlfriends.

After a full week of going through Pinterest for ideas, bracelets, and outfits, you finally deemed Arthur and yourself concert ready.

“Bebe, the car is here!”

You brushed your mascara over your eyelashes one last time before answering, “Coming!”

You carefully walked down the hallway of the rental flat in your heels. Arthur’s eyes lit up at the sight of your outfit.

The dark blue made your blond hair and tan skin pop. Was it a bit out there for his taste? He’d have to say yes, because he didn’t want anyone else ogling you at the show. He gave a low whistle, making you blush. You lightly hit him on the shoulder when you reached him.

“We��re going to be late.”

You looked over his outfit one last time, making sure that the white stars stayed stuck on the navy suitcoat.

Arthur leaned in cheekily. “And whose fault would that be, mon ange?”

“Yours.”

He gawked as you walked right past him out the front door. Arthur blinked a few times before he grabbed your bag that you had left behind. Looking around the room, he made sure that you weren’t forgetting anything else. It was only when the car honked that he made his way outside.

Now, his brother was one for theatrics, but he wasn’t expecting a limo to be outside the flat. He lovingly rolled his eyes as he clamored down the steps. He opened his door and wasn’t surprised to see you and Alex already next to each other. Arthur sat down to Charles, who was staring at his phone.

Once the door was closed, the limo took off. You and Alex were in a world of your own, which gave Arthur some time to talk to Charles.

“Did Max text you?” he murmured.

Charles nodded. “Oui. He said the car will be parked outside near a back entrance so that fans won’t see it. You two are leaving early? Alex and I are leaving to sit with Joris for the last few songs.”

“Perfect. We will just leave with you then.”

“What are you two talking about?” you asked with innocent eyes.

Charles smacked Arthur’s thigh. “He is just telling me that you wanted another pair of Crocs for your birthday.”

“No, I did not!”

You snorted as you rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe, sure.”

Arthur glared at his brother, who was sitting with a smirk on his face. Thankfully, the rest of the short drive was bearable. You stayed cuddled up to Alex, as the two of you were texting Kika as well.

When the limo stopped, the four of you were led through a different entrance to keep things a bit calmer. But as you as you sat in the little pop-up chair talking to Arthur, a few people had started to notice Charles, and then Alex, and then you and Arthur.

You giggled as you watched Charles wave his hand around as he tried to direct Pierre and Kika to the seats.

Your chair creaked as you leaned over to Arthur. “And we have been spotted.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked around and landed on multiple phones pointed in their direction. He wanted to sigh internally, but this was yours and his life: forever to be sought out and filmed. The Monegasque wanted to reply but you were already out of your seat and leaning over the barriers to take some friendship bracelets. He melted at your excited smile as you handed them some of the ones you made off your arm.

A few of the girls pointed to him, letting him know that a few of those would end up on his arms by the end of the night. Once you were done, you skipped back to Arthur, wide smile on your face.

“How do I look?”

He wanted to snort as you pulled a funny pose, yet he was distracted by how happy you looked. You were close to glowing from your joy.

He went to answer, but the lights started to dim, making you squeal and turn around. Arthur knew it was time for the concert to start, so he got off his chair to walk to closer to the barrier of the VIP section. His arms wrapped around your middle, and your arms came to rest on his.

It was about halfway through the concert when you and Arthur went back to the chairs. Before he sat down, he went over to the worker who was on the other side of the little gate.

“Would you be able to get us some water?”

The employee quickly shook his head before leaving momentarily. He came back with two bottle of water that were cold with condensation.

“Merci!” Arthur said as he took the bottles from the man. On his way back to you, he cracked open the lid for easy drinking. He also didn’t want your nails to accidentally chip halfway through the night.

You smiled brightly as he held the bottle out to you.

“You’re the best. You know that right?”

The cool water was refreshing in your mouth after singing for so long. You wiped your mouth, making sure that no water had dripped down on accident. Arthur had pulled out his phone to message Max to make sure that the car would be there, when Taylor rejoined the stage.

The singer immediately walked up to a bench where a guitar rested against it and sat down. She readjusted her mic before speaking.

“Hello, Milan!”

The crowds roared at the greeting, making you giggle. You and Arthur had ventured back to the railing, still holding each other like earlier.

Taylor laughed, making the crowds quiet down as they waited for her to speak again, anxiously waiting for the surprise song of the night.

“I heard that one of my friends was here tonight, and I wanted to play something special for her and her boyfriend.”

You turned around in Arthur’s arms to look at him. He was already grinning wickedly.

“You did not.”

He quickly shushed you and spun you back around. His head came down and rested against your forehead, lips dangerously close to your ear. Taylor’s guitar began to play, and Arthur sang next to your ear with Taylor in the background. From above, confetti began to softly fall, almost like snow.

“Green was the color of the grass, where I used to read at Centennial Park…”

Your eyes welled up in tears as the mood turned into a quiet and somber atmosphere as the guitar played out what you had dubbed Arthur’s and your song. The tears in your eyes began to stream down your face as Arthur swayed the two of you to the music.

“And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

While you two were wrapped in each other, Alex lightly elbowed Charles. The driver had looked at her with confused eyes before he gazed in your direction. He watched as Arthur gave you a kiss on your forehead, and how your hands tightened around his arms on your middle. His eyes softened at the delicate moment.

Alex stepped closer to Charles, who wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her into his side.

She hummed lightly. “Arthur needed her.”

Charles took one more look at the duo, who had changed positions to where you were now tucked into Arthur’s side.

“They needed each other.”

When the song ended, you had to take a second to calm yourself down. Arthur walked you back to the seats where your water bottle sat. You immediately opened it and too giant sips. When you were done, Arthur’s hands came up to your face. His fingers rubbed a bit under your eyes, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“You had a bit of mascara under your eyes. Wouldn’t want you to look like a raccoon.”

Your giggles filled the little space between you and him. Once they subsided, you took the chance to really look at Arthur, the man who loved you more than you could ever dream.

“Thank you for taking me here. It was a nice surprise.”

You watched as the soft smile on his face grew into a smirk.

“What do you have planned?”

“Are you ready to leave?” he shot back.

You were confused but looked around. Charles and Alex were jumping up and down to the now upbeat song. Pierre and Kika were currently trading bracelets with a few more fans. You then looked back at Arthur and shrugged.

“We can leave.”

His face lit up as he grabbed your arm. You thought he would say goodbye to his brother, but he just dragged you out of the section and to the exit. He was laughing as he pulled you along, almost jogging by this point.

You laughed behind him. “Bebe, my heels can’t keep up with you! And I need to post this really fast!”

Thankfully, he slowed down enough for you to comfortably walk next to him and finish your Instagram post.

y/n.89 has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, y/n.nation, swiftontrack, and 104,983 others

y/n.89 And isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? Thank you Arthur for the best early birthday present a girl could wish for! J'taime bebe!

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box_box_express that's my f1 point leader!!

y/n&co oh my gosh, I didn't know I needed y/n at the eras tour until now!

swiftontrack my two worlds are colliding 😭

maxverstappen1 has he showed you the surprise yet?

charlesleclerc MAX THEY JUST LEFT!

maxverstappen1 HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW????

formula_delulu THEY PLAYED THEIR SONG I CRIED BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THEM

y/n.nation the dress EATS ⭐️💙

168133isfamily now I need Oscar at the eras tour now!!

Before you got to the exit, he stopped suddenly and turned around.

“Are you ready?”

You were gasping for air just a bit after the fast-paced walking. “I’m always ready for anything with you.”

Arthur would have gotten down on one knee right then and there if he had the ring. However, Ollie would kill him, along with Lando who wanted to take the engagement pictures. And Max would too, since he technically hasn’t asked for permission, even though Christian gave him the go ahead.

He took a breath before opening the exit door. You had still been looking at Arthur when your eyes turned away and landed on the red and yellow car. Your hair spun as you whipped back to your boyfriend.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything chérie.”

“Shut up!”

You took a few more steps to the sleek red car and whistled low. You stooped to run your hands over the bright yellow decals.

“Did you do this?”

Arthur looked a bit guilty. “This is Max’s present, so you’ll have to thank him.”

Your eyes widened for a moment before you smiled brightly. “What are we waiting for? I’ll drive.”

Arthur shook his head. “This is your present, I will drive so you can enjoy it.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, mon ange?”

“I’m driving.”

“Yes, chérie.”

athur_leclerc has posted

liked by maxverstappen1, porche. Disney, and 194,295 others

arthur_leclerc safe to say that she is taking this home with her. thank you to maxverstappen1 for making this happen. she says and I quote, "I love you max, never change"

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y/n.nation yeah porsche isn't getting that back

redbullracing I'm guessing we need to do a Lightning McQueen livery now?

liamlawson30 YES PLEASE AND I WANT FREE PRACTICE WHEN IT HAPPENS PLS I BEG 😭😭

maxverstappen1 tell her that I say you're welcome and that I will overtake her in the championship

arthur_leclerc I told her and she responded "no you won't" 😌

maxverstappen1 she made that exact face, didn't she?

athur_leclerc yep.

box_box_express this is so freaking funny 😂

porsche tell her she can keep it! happy birthday to our favorite Red Bull driver!

arthur_leclerc she just screamed

sebastianvettel I AM RIGHT HERE?? I DRIVE FOR YOU??

porsche she's the people's princess? 🤨

sebastianvettel you're right, carry on

y/n&co no one is going to be able to beat max for this present

end note: are you glad I brought kid back? I've missed her a lot, so this was so much fun to write! once again, thank you for being patient!

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ozzgin · 9 months

Text

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (IV)

Happy Holidays! Remember your plans to visit friends and family back in your home country? Scratch that. The Yakuza men have other ideas for you in this cozy Christmas special. And you finally get to meet their fearsome Boss, who has a request for you.

Content: female reader, fluff

[Part 3] | [Part 5] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

You stare at your phone in disbelief, rereading each line and hoping you've misunderstood the kanji. Daitou and Kazuya are quietly frowning behind you, unsure how to help in such a situation. Their lack of response only confirms it.

The brief paragraph is written in bold, red font: Due to weather conditions, all flights are cancelled until further notice. Passengers have been refunded and will need to repurchase their tickets at first convenience.

One glimpse at the last-minute prices and you're certain of it: you won't be going home for Christmas. You slouch and sigh, somewhat at peace with the idea. What else can you do? You might as well get yourself a KFC bucket and stare at the holiday lights in the city center. You and the couples taking cheesy Christmas selfies, who will later wonder about the gloomy loner behind them philosophically crunching on spicy wings.

"Don't look so defeated, (Y/N). You can just spend that time with us instead. We're not such terrible company, are we?" Kazuya jokes, trying to cheer you up.

"We could even go on a trip around New Year."

Your eyes light up in anticipation, the sadness vanishing almost instantly.

"Can we go to one of those hot spring inns? I've always wanted to visit an onsen." You put your hands together pleadingly.

"Whoa! Take me out to dinner first if you're that eager to see me naked." The blonde man winks at you smugly.

"How would I see you naked? The baths are separated, aren't they?" You inquire.

"We can't go to the regular ones." Daitou pulls his collar slightly downwards, revealing a fragment of his traditional tattoos. True. A yakuza would never be allowed among the civilians. "We'd have to book a private bath, so there wouldn't be anyone else."

You blush at the prospect of being alone with the two men. Kazuya notices your nervousness and is about to continue his teasing, but Daitou speaks before him, unbothered and oblivious:

"Besides, you've already seen me naked. I can tell you Kazuya doesn't look much different. There's nothing to be shy about."

The blonde man can only gawk, taken aback, and you shove Daitou in a flustered panic, fumbling to find an excuse or a change of subject.

He didn't have to make your business public like that, or he could've at least announced it without you being present. Judging by the blonde's speechless reaction, you're guessing he hasn't been told about your sneaky office smooching that led to the occasional sleepover. If you think about it, there's nothing shameful about being intimate with your boyfriend, but...It's not something you're fully accustomed to yet.

As promised, after the coworker incident you were soon greeted with a job offer in the neighborhood. When you went to your old office to discuss the mandatory year contract, the managers nervously handed you an approval for resignation and refused to discuss any details. You were free to go, no penalty or obligation. They had a fearful demeanor and you hoped Daitou didn't dismember anyone involved. Regardless of his means, you were now at the liberty to pursue other careers.

On the other hand, you were rather anxious about your new workplace. You had flashing visions of drug cartels and gambling parlors, with thugs rattling their drinks at you and demanding proper service. Windows breaking and masked men rolling onto the floor, armed to the brim. Ginza hostesses scurrying behind you and asking for help against an angered client. The night before your first day, you restlessly shuffled in your bed, plagued by second thoughts. What could you possibly do for the yakuza? What ghoulish demands would they prepare for you?

Daitou was the one to accompany you in the morning. He showed you to your desk, and you could discern the blurred frames of people angrily discussing matters in the opposing meeting room, separated by a large window. You gulped.

"They're building a new apartment complex two streets down." Your boyfriend mentioned casually, helping you settle with your belongings.

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought you were curious about their talk."

"I mean, I am, but...Is that it?" You gazed at him incredulously.

"What else? This is a real estate office. Upstairs is the stock investments."

"Oh...Oh...I thought..." You were a little embarrassed. The imaginary scenarios of bloody battles and crimes that kept you awake felt quite ridiculous now.

Daitou seemed to have picked up on your assumptions, because he chuckled and ruffled your hair, following with an explanation.

"Boss is very strict with our Ninkyo-Do. If you're caught with drugs or petty theft, you're excommunicated. We used to have a bunch of gambling casinos as main income, but nowadays there's too much pressure from the police, ya know? Half of our members aren't even officially registered with the Yakuza, so they can't be tracked. We mostly do stocks and real estate. That's where the cash is.

Heh. Kinda boring, ain't it? I'm afraid you showed up way after the golden times. Even I'm too young for it. If ya want, I can ask one of the retired seniors to tell you about it. He has a lot of great stories."

You held your tongue from bringing up his frequent killing sprees and just nodded, amused by the fact that his code of conduct didn't register human casualties as wrong. The Yakuza have strict rules of ethics that set them apart from regular mafia. Depending on the Oyabun, or Head of the Family, this chivalrous way of living is reinforced to all members or conveniently swept under the rug. Daitou's Boss seemed to fit in the former category.

Therefore your "office job" turned out to be an actual office job without the quotes. Although you were often reminded the people passing by weren't your regular salarymen. Many of them were entirely transparent with you, striking up conversations about their latest arrest, or complaining about the poor quality of their pinky finger prosthetic they'd ordered from the Philippines.

But this isn't the time to reminisce. The prolonged silence is unbearable and one could fry eggs on your hot, burning cheeks. Kazuya is the one to break the awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah...You coming to the Christmas thing this evening?"

"We'll be there." Daitou smiles innocently, unaware of the discomfort he just caused.

Kazuya raises his eyebrows in surprise and looks at you.

"Did you...?"

"Yup. It's all fine." The dark haired man nods reassuringly.

"Then I'll see you at dinner, little (Y/N). Don't catch a fever with all that steam blowing out of you." He laughs at your still baffled expression and places his large hand on your head, departing.

Daitou holds the door open for you and you hurry inside. As you both walk down the hallway of the luxurious restaurant, you can't help the nagging feeling that he's once again omitted some vital information.

"Can you tell me again who else is coming? Just Kazuya?"

"Oh no, it's a Family meeting. So Boss and the rest of the Seniors, too."

You gasp in horror, but before you can scold him, you find yourself behind the canvas screen divider, facing a table of older men in suits, holding their drinks and eyeing you suspiciously.

"Oi, who the fuck is this, Daitou?" one of them growls.

"I already told you before, (Y/N). My girlfriend."

"Huh? Did you seriously just bring a civvy to our meeting? I knew you got a loose screw, boy, but this tops it all."

Daitou frowns and steps in front of you, visibly annoyed.

"If ya got a problem with my woman being here, I can settle it for you, old man. When was the last time you fought someone?"

"'s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've gotten too comfortable sitting up there and barking orders. Let me remind you why they leave the killings to me."

The thick tension in the air is quickly dispersed by a loud, relaxed laugh. At the end of the table, a heavily scarred man with grey hair is clapping his hands in delight, seemingly amused by the events unfolding. He glances at you and pats a cushioned seat to his right.

"There you are! Come join us, miss (Y/N). Ignore those rusty grumps, they ain't seen a woman outside a host club." He throws the instigator a brief glare. "Is that any way to talk to my guest, Oota?"

The man swallows dryly and mutters an apology. He goes back to his drink, preoccupied, and the rest follow suit.

You hesitantly kneel down to your designated place, sheepishly peeking at the mysterious figure. Could it be? As if reading your mind, Daitou places an encouraging hand on your waist and lowers his head to your ear, swiftly whispering "that's Boss" before going to greet the others at the table.

"I-it's a pleasure meeting you, Sir." You mumble nervously.

"No no, pleasure is all mine. I'm Eiji Ijichi, 8th Head of our Family."

His introduction is unexpectedly warm and his easygoing way of speaking reminds you a lot of Daitou. The faintest grin threatens to appear, but you cover your mouth. With enough imagination, this could be the equivalent of meeting your in-laws. This is Daitou's family, after all. A criminally scary one, but nonetheless you've been welcomed with open arms.

"Do you drink?" The older man asks you, raising his porcelain cup.

"Naturally." You exclaim and lift your own cup enthusiastically.

"Attagirl!"

As the night progresses, the men at the table are loosening up under the influence of expensive alcohol. Kazuya seems to be caught in a terribly involved conversation with Daitou and one of their Captains, gesturing dramatically and occasionally raising his tone. You notice your glass has once again been filled by the waitress and take another sip, satisfied with observing their fun from the sidelines. Boss has a similar approach, gazing nostalgically over the rowdy group of thugs.

He reaches for his pack of smokes and you scramble to pick up the lighter, politely bowing as you light up his cigarette. He smiles at your gesture.

"I see Daitou's trained you already."

He ponders for a moment, gently blowing a cloud of smoke upwards.

"You'll make a good wife."

"Excuse me?" You question, startled by his sudden remark.

"It's hard to tell, but I'm getting pretty old myself." He snickers at his self made compliment. "Soon it'll be time to pick my successor. I have no children, unless you count that rascal I picked from the streets." He says as he tilts his chin towards Daitou.

"I love him like my own kid, but I'm sure you noticed he's a little off. Everyone is terrified of him. You can't have a leader if everyone runs away from him, ya know? I was starting to get worried I'd work myself through retirement. Kazuya can only do so much!

Then he comes up to me grinning like an idiot. I thought, 'There it is. He finally lost it', but instead he asks me if I want to see a photo of his girlfriend. Girlfriend?! I was ready to witness some crusty body pillow, my hand was on the phone to call our Family doctor. He shows me a cute foreigner standing next to him. Now I'm pretty sure he's not smart enough to fake photos like that, so it must be the real deal. 'How the Devil did ya pull this one?' I asked him. Cause listen, I was rather handsome back in my day and I still wouldn't have been this lucky.

And would ya look at that, it's the miss that moved into our apartments! How's the living conditions, by the way? Everything going fine?"

You nod energetically.

"Good, good."

He crosses his arms and nods himself, satisfied. He turns to gaze at you intently, with a face you can't quite read.

"You gotta excuse a drunk old man for rambling so much. What I'm trying to say...well...

Take care of him when he becomes the 9th, will ya? If he has you, I'm sure he'll manage. But don't tell him I said that! You gotta keep them humble. See, that's a lesson for you too. If there's one person the Head of the Family bows to, that's his wife! But I doubt he'd let the power get to his head."

You both turn to Daitou. He just finished pouring more sake to his superior and notices your stare. He blushes slightly and waves, unsure why he's suddenly being observed.

"I think so, too." You respond, waving back.

How would that look on a CV? Ane-san of a Yakuza family.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #yandere yakuza #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere original character #oc x reader #mafia x reader #yandere mafia

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osarina · 1 month

Text

ᡣ𐭩 I'D MEET THE SEA UNDER THE SUNLIGHT

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai knows. he knows who you are. he knows what you do. and not only does he know, but in typical dazai fashion, he decides to make it fully your problem. now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out what to do with him—the answer should be obvious, you just can't accept it. but time is ticking and you're treading a thin rope, if you make the smallest mistake...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: part four my children. my eye procedure went well! i've been resting all day, i prob won't be active very much until monday/tuesday, so i'lll queue a few reblogs of this ... i say that, but i also don't know if ill be able to stop myself from responding to comments HAHAH i just love talking to u guys about it so much i cant help it. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: i didnt get the chance to proofread this one bc of the procedure so don't crucify me if the grammar is awful </3 i have a doctor's pass </3

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

It takes Dazai Osamu approximately two days, seven hours and fifty-three minutes to get his hands on proof of your affiliation with the Port Mafia. He supposes it was due to luck—the timing of when he got confirmation of his suspicions—but Dazai thinks it’s also due to his ability to think quickly if he does say so himself.

He stares at the file that Katai emailed him, a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to push away, unsure if he wants to open it and be forced with physical evidence of who you are and what you do. He doesn’t even know why he’s so hesitant, he already knows. He already knows so he shouldn’t be hesitant… but if he already knows, then why does he need to see the proof? What is this going to do for him? What is he going to do with this information? Nothing, the answer is nothing, so then why-

Katai: Can you quit holding that date from four years ago over my head now?

Dazai: no ^.^

Katai: Of course not. Whatever. Dazai, I don’t know what you’re doing but you need to stop digging into this—it’s dangerous. And I don’t want to be involved.

Dazai shuts his phone off immediately.

He hovers the cursor over the video file on his laptop, chewing the inside of his cheek—the supposed footage from whatever happened behind Tokyo’s City Hall last night. With his heart tight in his chest and the image of your smile burned behind his eyelids, he clicks on the file.

Two days after the event, you and Chuuya are sitting in Mori’s office getting the talk down of a lifetime. Mori has been going on for thirty minutes already and you’re sick of his voice. You don’t know how it’s your fault that the Shimazaki-kai decided to try to take you out while you were in Tokyo but evidently it is.

“I don’t see how this is an issue, boss,” Chuuya finally says, voice strained. “The Sun and Steel are already on top of the situation, Noriko was livid when she realized that they tried to assassinate one of us while we were in Tokyo under the Sun and Steel’s protection.”

“You don’t see how this is an issue,” Mori repeats slowly, voice nothing short of mocking. Usually, he at least tries to mask his annoyance—you and Chuuya share a concerned look with one another. “You don’t see how it’s an issue that we’ve caused this conflict to escalate to the point of the Shimazaki-kai being willing to go to war with the Sun and Steel if it means the mere chance of getting rid of one of us?”

“Okay,” Chuuya mutters. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’, little hime,” Mori says coolly, leveling his calculating gaze onto you. You don’t flinch beneath it, meeting it head on as you raise your chin. “This all stems from your reckless decision to attack the Inagawa-kai.”

“She didn’t have a choice.” Chuuya jumps to your defense, frowning. “They attacked her at the ports. That was a declaration of war in itself.”

You almost wince at the ridiculing look Mori directs toward Chuuya, voice amused as he speaks. “Is that what she told you?”

Chuuya gives you a questioning look but you don’t give Mori anymore time to stir the pot. You don’t need Chuuya knowing that your decision was driven by Dazai of all people—he’s already angry enough about the situation with the civilian.

“And here I thought you were going to… what was it you said? ‘Clean up my mess?’” you say snidely, drawing Mori’s attention back to you. “Perhaps the real reason the Yakuza syndicates are so willing to challenge our authority is not because of my decision but rather because of the incapability perceived in our boss.”

Chuuya’s eyes shoot open and Mori raises his brows, entirely unperturbed by your comment.

“To think all it would take for you to start biting back…” Mori trails off, unbearably amused and clearly referring to Dazai, making you stiffen. “How fascinating. You’ve kept up this ruse longer than I expected. I think this is the first time you’ve managed to surprise me, little hime.”

Your expression twists as you look away, ignoring the lost look Chuuya gives you, clearly irritated because he doesn’t know what’s going on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take the welcome distraction eagerly, hoping to find an excuse to get out of this wretched meeting.

Klaus: your civilian boy is at your tower

You: What?

Klaus: *one image attached*

You stare down at your phone in shock, desperately trying to ignore the curious looks Mori and Chuuya are sending your way.

What the fuck?

Dazai tilts his head to the side, giving the three boys standing in front of him a simpering smile. One of them—the emo one with black hair and white tips—bares his teeth at Dazai like a feral dog, the one in the middle—Dazai recognizes him as Klaus, the boy with you that day at the ports—gives him an irritable look, while the one standing in the back—a nervous looking boy with choppy silver hair and a black collar—lets out a pathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“She’s gonna be so fucking mad at you,” Klaus tells him, voice harsh. His Japanese is broken and accented but understandable for the most part. “She’s gonna fucking-”

He shifts into a foreign language mid-sentence—German, maybe—so Dazai doesn’t know what he’s saying but he’s sure it’s nothing good. He keeps up the overly confident facade, even if he does start to doubt himself internally.

Shit, he thinks to himself, smile fraying at the edges, what is he doing?

Dazai definitely did not think this through and it’s way too late for him to back down now. After watching the video and seeing you with the gravity manipulator, seeing the brief battle in the alley behind the Tokyo city hall, Dazai pretty much blackmailed Katai into using the CCTV cameras between both cities to follow you back to Yokohama to see what building you live in. In retrospect, maybe that’s a little creepy, but he just watched you and the gravity manipulator kill a whole crew of people so he thinks stalking you a bit isn’t too bad in comparison.

“Who do you think you are?” the black-haired one says, voice tight and pitched. His jaw is clenched tight and he takes half a step forward but pauses when he sees the sharp look of warning that Klaus gives him.

He thinks maybe he is stupid. Ango used to rattle him around and yell at him for doing stupid things back before Odasaku died but he thinks this might take the cake for the stupidest thing Dazai has ever done. Standing outside a building owned by the Mafia, antagonizing three mafiosos, waiting here to demand a conversation with someone who is likely their boss. Ango might’ve been right when he said that Dazai has no functioning brain cells.

“None of your business,” Dazai replies with a sweet smile, almost giggling at the way the boy bears his teeth again, even more livid than before.

“You-”

“Stop.”

All three boys go rigid at the sound of your voice and even Dazai stiffens at the cold tone. He forces himself to turn his head to the side, eyes falling upon you as you make your way toward the four of them. The suit you’re wearing today is different—usually he’s seen you wear black on black, but today you’re wearing a burgundy button-up under your suit jacket. You look beautiful—always do, Dazai thinks wistfully��but Dazai finds himself swallowing thickly instead, not used to the blank look you cast over him before you turn your attention over to the three boys.

Ouch, Dazai thinks, not really knowing what he expected but it still hurts to be dismissed like that.

“Klaus, go wipe the cameras around headquarters—wherever he might have passed through,” you say. “Akutagawa, Atsushi, if anyone finds out about this…”

The two boys that Dazai doesn’t recognize share a look with one another, odd expressions spreading across their faces before they nod. All three scamper off without another word, the silver-haired boy giving Dazai a short, worried look that puts Dazai on edge before leaving. You don’t look at him. Rather, you stride right past him toward the building.

Dazai swallows thickly before following after you. You don’t say a word as you lead him to the tall, black building and Dazai wants to say something but his words get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Dazai always has something to say but he doesn’t right now and that scares him because he needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you when the two of you finally get up to your apartment.

“Hey, I know you’re a mafia executive because I had my hacker friend get me CCTV tapes from the Tokyo City Hall and I saw you and that short ginger with the tacky hat murder a bunch of guys. Plus, I had him stalk you so I could figure out where you live.”

Yeah, right.

Dazai shivers at the rush of cool air that hits him as he enters the building with you, watches the way the doorman gives him a curious look before inclining his head to you. You give the older man a pointed look before nodding your head to one of the corners of the room and the elevator—Dazai doesn’t know what you’re getting at but he obviously does from the way says:

“Of course, hime.”

You don’t say anything still, leading him toward the elevator and holding it open so he can step past and stand inside. You follow after him, clicking the button to the top floor of the building before scanning a keycard.

How awkward.

Dazai almost wants to crawl out of his own skin, toss himself right out of the glass elevator looking over the city. You don’t even look at him—you keep your gaze trained forward, lips curled down, not even sparing Dazai the briefest glance as the elevator starts to move up.

Maybe this was a mistake, Dazai starts to think, twiddling with his fingers as he keeps sparing short glances in your direction. He still doesn’t even know what he wants to come from this—shouldn’t the proof of your affiliation with the Mafia have been enough to send him running? He should’ve taken it as reason to stop reaching out to you, gone back to life before you but-

But life before you was dark.

His throat spasms as he swallows. Life before you was dark. Life before you was him dragging himself out of bed every day trying to convince himself that he couldn’t let himself die until he fulfilled Odasaku’s final request. Life before you was him fighting depressive episode after depressive episode with alcohol and sex, preferring pain to the emptiness he seemed to constantly be plagued with because at least that meant he could feel something.

He doesn’t want to go back to that—you’re the first person who's actually seen him since Odasaku died. The first person to make him feel as if he’s worth something. He doesn’t give a shit about about what you do, he doesn’t want to go back to life without you.

He glances over at you again, catching the eerily blank expression on your face as you stare ahead. Three words spill from his lips before he can stop them.

“Are you mad?” His voice wavers over the question; he feels pathetic. Feels like a kid tugging at his mother’s shirt after he did something wrong.

You finally look at him though, turn your head slowly toward him as if you don’t even want to believe he actually asked that. Dazai doesn’t know if it’s progress or not because the expression on your face is nothing short of livid.

“Okay,” he says quietly, averting his gaze back to the glass of the elevator.

God, how many floors is this building? The ride to the top floor is taking an agonizingly long amount of time. He doesn’t know if it’s because the elevator itself is slow or if it’s because the building is just that tall or if it just seems longer because of Dazai’s own turmoil—either way, it leaves Dazai miserable.

He really needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you. He should have figured it out before coming here but Dazai just got too antsy with the information Katai gave him on hand and he found himself making his way over here before he could double guess himself.

He doesn’t think you’ll appreciate him using Katai to get the evidence of your position in the Mafia—plus, it could put him in danger and Dazai doesn’t want that. He thinks maybe he’ll pin the blame on his professor—you don’t seem to like him anyway, so you might take it at face value. If you don’t, he’ll have to figure something else out to protect Katai but Dazai has always been a quick thinker so he has faith that he’ll think of something.

If he’s lucky, you’ll lead the conversation and he’ll be able to reflect off of you after seeing where your head's at. That would be the best case scenario.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator finally bings, signaling that it has finally reached the top floor of the building. You step out before him, hardly even looking at him as you stride into your apartment. Dazai follows after, a bit more hesitantly.

His breath catches as his gaze twists around the massive space—floor to ceiling windows line the walls looking over the city, black couches set up in front of the TV and expensive decor littering the room, there’s a kitchen off to the right and a staircase leading up to a second level.

What types of apartments have staircases? Dazai thinks, distressed, finally looking back at you.

You’ve crossed the room—almost like you’ve wanted to put as much distance as possible between you and him, which is a thought that kind of hurts because he’s been yearning for your presence since you left his apartment the morning you were supposed to leave for abroad. Your expression is entirely unreadable and Dazai doesn’t really know how to feel about that because he can’t figure out how to approach this now.

“You know, originally I was interested in you because I thought you were a lot smarter than you made yourself out to be,” you say, voice dry. Dazai nearly cheers, realizing that he did, in fact, get the best case scenario—he listens intently, mind racing as he tries to figure out what route he should take with you. “I was clearly wrong.”

Dazai pouts. “My bella thinks I’m stupid,” he sighs dramatically but his lashes flutter as he averts his gaze when you don’t find any amusement in his words, readjusting his plan. His theatrical lilt falls flat when he adds, “Maybe I am.”

“I don’t think there’s a maybe,” you correct, unamused. “What do you know and what do you want?”

Dazai is almost taken aback by your tone—cold and flat, very transactional. Maybe he should have taken the lead because he doesn’t know what you mean and he doesn’t like your tone. He watches as you fish through your pocket to find a cigarette and lighter, sticking it between your lips to light it. You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“What?” he asks, voice a bit weak.

“What do you know and what do you want? I think they’re pretty simple questions,” you say sardonically. “I have a general idea of what you know already—if you’re here, you have more than whatever that cunt Ui has on me—and I promise you that no amount of money the Ivory Eagle will offer you can compare to what I’ll give you. Plus, I’ll have to kill you if you go to it with them so I think that’s pretty convincing in itself. I want to know exactly what you know so I can figure out how much they’d pay you for the information. I figure you want money, that’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t…” Dazai trails off, a bit lost. He’s still not sure why he came here but he knows it’s not for money and honestly, he thinks he’s a little hurt that you assumed that, can feel the sting in his chest and the lump in his throat.

The smile you give him is cool, you tilt your head to the side and look at him. “Come on, Dazai, you don’t have to keep up with the act. You got close to me to get evidence for Ui, that’s obvious; probably realized it would be more worthwhile trying to get money from me to keep you quiet because they’ve barely got enough money to keep their shitty journalism house running. Honestly, I should probably just-”

“No,” Dazai forces out, interrupting you, lips parted and throat swollen—this is not going well. “That’s not-that’s not true. I didn’t get close to you to get evidence, I didn’t even know until the other day.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Dazai?” you ask, expression tight. “Because I’m not. As soon as you slipped up and said his name at the event, I realized. You think we don’t know everything that goes on in this city? About that shitty journalist group trying to expose us?”

“I didn’t slip up,” Dazai says, voice more shrill than he intended it to be. His mind falls flat at every corner as he tries to figure out how to salvage this. “I didn’t slip up because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It wasn’t-this wasn’t some grand scheme, I like you-” (he didn’t mean to say that) “I mean-it’s just-I don’t-”

Dazai feels flustered. He feels flustered and he’s stumbling over words in a way that he hasn’t in years, unable to get out a single coherent sentence because his mind is all over the place. Shit, he thought he was going to have to defend himself from having Katai stalk you so he could figure this out and find you; he didn’t think he’d have to defend himself because you thought everything from day one was some grand scheme to expose you as a mafioso.

You clearly don’t believe him from the way you roll your eyes and it makes Dazai’s distress spike exponentially.

“Then pray tell, Dazai, why are you here? You’re here for something, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to show up here of all places to dangle over my head that you know who I am.”

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them.

“I wanted you to stop ignoring me,” he says, arms instinctively curling around his body as he stares at you, feeling more than a bit vulnerable at the blank look you give him in response to his words.

“You… want to make me stop ignoring you by… blackmailing me?”

“... Yes?”

The sigh you let out is long. Instead of responding, you take a drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against the wall you’re leaning on to look up at the ceiling. Dazai stares at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for your response.

“What do you have on me?” you finally ask, taking a few steps forward to put the cigarette out on an ashtray before raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “Well? I know you must have more than the location of this building.”

Dazai hesitates before he says, “Footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

Your expression doesn’t betray you as you press, “Footage of what?”

“You and the ginger with the ugly hat,” Dazai answers, trying not to smile at the way you clearly have to hide your amusement at his snide comment.

“What are we doing in the footage?” you ask. “What makes it condemning?”

“… He splattered six guys against the wall.”

You sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dazai. You saw that and still came here? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dazai gives you a weak smile “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, there are a lot of things wrong with me,” he tells you, echoing the words from your second meeting with him, hoping they make you lighten up.

They do.

He watches as you let out another breath, tense shoulders relaxing, suddenly looking a lot more tired as you look away from him.

“I missed you,” he adds quietly, fingers running along the hem of his sweater. “It’s cruel and unusual punishment to kiss a guy like you did and then ghost him.”

“It was to keep you out of this life, Dazai,” you say tiredly. “I mean-shit, Dazai. I don’t know what you want me to do, I don’t even trust you right now, you could have a fucking wire on you for all I know and-”

“I could strip for you,” Dazai offers, lips curling up in a flirtatious smile as he flutters his lashes at you. “I’ll give you a show.”

You’re not amused.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Dazai. This is your life.”

“Well, my life has been one giant joke up until I met you so forgive me if I don’t care,” Dazai says, voice unintentionally rising in response to your words because who are you to decide on his behalf to cut him off because his life is in danger. That’s a decision for him to make. “You can’t just make those decisions for me.”

Dazai thinks he prefers the anger that crosses over your face to the tiredness and emptiness. His breath catches when he sees the way your jaw tightens and the way your eyes get fired up.

“It doesn’t just affect you, Dazai,” you hiss. “If you get pulled into this and something happens to you, that’s on me.”

Dazai’s heart jumps at the implications of your words, nails digging into his palms.

“And how does that affect you?” Dazai presses, the desperation that hangs off of his words so glaring that Dazai almost wants to curl in on himself. He wants to hear you say it, wants you to alleviate all of the thoughts threatening to consume him since you left his apartment that morning—wants to hear you say that you care, that he does mean something to you.

Your expression becomes closed off again as you realize what he wants you to say and Dazai swallows thickly, gaze searching your face for answers.

“You know how it affects me,” you finally respond as you look away. “You know, Dazai.”

It has nothing to do with what I want, you said at the event when he asked why you didn’t tell him why you didn’t want to be with him. The conflict on your face when you said things were too complicated to explain. The anger when you realized Professor Ui had purposely put him in danger trying to get evidence to condemn the Sun and Steel.

“I want you to say it,” he says hoarsely.

You don’t reply for a moment, watching him with an expression that’s impossible for him to decipher. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are pressed together tight, but the look in your eyes—there’s so much emotion in them that Dazai thinks he could get lost in them, it nearly leaves him breathless.

“You are actually the bane of my existence, Dazai Osamu,” you finally say, shoulders slumping as you look away again. Not exactly what he wanted to hear but he thinks that’s as good of an admission that he’s going to get right now.

“And the object of all of your desires?” Dazai prods with a teasing smile.

Your gaze cuts back toward him. “Did you just quote Bridgerton at me?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief.

Embarrassed, Dazai flushes and then he hits you back with: “You watched Bridgerton?”

Instead of responding, seemingly equally embarrassed by the callout as Dazai is, you scowl at him and shake your head but your voice is lighter now when you speak—if only barely. “Honestly, Dazai, what did you think you were going to get out of this by coming here? I could have killed you. I should kill you. Coming to the headquarters of the Port Mafia to blackmail one of its executives with evidence threatening to expose them-”

“I didn’t threaten to expose you,” Dazai protests, prancing a bit more into your apartment. Now that he’s not as stressed, he can actually admire your apartment—apartment, is this even an apartment? He runs his fingers along the pristine black marble of the bar separating your kitchen from the living room, ignoring the way your eyes follow him. “I just…”

“You threatened to expose me,” you interrupt dryly. “You implied it.”

“I did not,” Dazai complains. “It’s not my fault you took it that way.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you thinking, Dazai?” you ask again.

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “I’m thinking that you’re going to take me out on a date.”

You don’t know why you’re even entertaining him.

Three days later, you’re outside Dazai’s apartment complex waiting for him to get back from his classes. You’d have gone to the campus itself but you don’t feel like having to beg Albatross or Iceman to get into the campus cameras to wipe the footage of you being there, especially knowing that it’ll get right back to Chuuya who is still under the belief that you’re no longer talking to Dazai.

You scowl as you look down at your phone, checking the time again. He should’ve been back ten minutes ago—you told him you were here waiting. Your reservation is in thirty minutes and he still has to change, you glance over your shoulder as a group of college students make their way toward the complex. You hardly stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you’d figured that the complex would be popular with the kids attending YNU—that’s why you ended up buying it—but you really don’t want to interact with any of them.

You can feel them looking at you too—fuck, you should have just stayed in your car. From the corner of your eye, you can see them exchange curious looks with one another. One of the boys nudges another, clearly beckoning him to go try to talk to you and you will strength from the gods-

You hear your name fall from familiar lips, quiet and unsure, and the unpleasant expression that you know must be on your face melts away. You let your head fall to the side over your shoulder, gaze focusing on Dazai—he’s dressed casually in a brown sweater and cream pants, school books tucked to his chest and backpack hanging off of his shoulders. He looks surprised at the sight of you so you raise your eyebrows.

“You’re late, I texted you,” you say simply as he approaches you, glancing at the car and then to you curiously.

“My phone died,” he replies sheepishly, a bit of light returning to his eyes as he comes closer to you. Warmth starts to spread through your chest when you see how the corners of his lips twitch up, fingers absently thrumming against his books. “Where are we going?”

“You’re getting changed,” you reply, nodding to the suit hanging in the passenger seat of he car, “and then-”

“Yo, Dazai-kun!”

Your eye twitches at the interruption, gaze twisting to the side to fall on one of the boys from that group you’d been dreading walking over before Dazai arrived. You notice him stiffen, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face when he hears his name being called. So, you sigh, motion for him to go into the car and grab the suit as you turn your attention to the group of approaching college students.

“We’re busy,” you say with a tight smile, tone short and perfunctory but trying to be polite.

Your eyes sweep over the one who spoke up—he’s dressed nice, slacks and a button up, tailored neatly to his body, but there’s something so distasteful about him that you can’t help the way your lip curls up in disgust. Maybe it’s because of the way Dazai looks so uncomfortable.

The man looks entirely unperturbed by your blatant dismissal, giving you a charming smile. “I’m Yoshimura Hiro—me and Daz-”

Irritated, you glance one last time at Dazai, seeing that he got the suit out of the car and shut the door. You lock the car and without another word, press your hand against Dazai’s lower back to urge him forward, walking away from the small group without another word.

Dazai can hardly muffle the snort that escapes his lips as soon as the two of you make it into the building. His eyes have regained that brightness that they’d lost when his classmates approached you, a smile curving at his lips.

“That was so rude,” he says with a grin.

“We have a reservation to make,” you tell him dryly. “I said we were busy.”

“Still, you didn’t even wait for him to finish introducing himself.”

“Would you have preferred I had?” you ask, glancing at him as he unlocks his apartment, watching as his smile falters as he shakes his head. “Why don’t you get along with them?”

Dazai shrugs but he seems a bit more awkward now as you step into his apartment. He tosses his books onto the coffee table and shrugs his backpack off onto the couch. You lean against the wall as you wait for him to respond, noting that his apartment is much cleaner than the last time you were here.

“They don’t like me,” he corrects absently, fiddling with a mug on his coffee table before bringing it over to the kitchen. “Most people don’t.”

There’s a silent question lingering at the end of the sentence—you know it, even if you couldn’t tell from the way the words hang, you can see it in the way his eyes draw over to you. Maybe he wants reassurance of some kind that you do like him, that you’re not just doing this because of the blackmail, but the words die on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you say, “Go get changed. We’re running late already.”

Dazai looks disappointed by your words—you can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his lashes lower, the corner of his lips tightening—but he lets out a dramatic sigh, muttering something under his breath before going into his bathroom to change.

Luckily, it only takes him a few minutes to get changed into the suit. He comes out as he’s still buttoning up the waistcoat—jacket slung over his shoulder. Your eyes drop down to his slim waist, eyes lingering at how neatly the vest clings to it.

Kido really did a good job, you think, having to drag your eyes back up to his face as he finally shrugs the jacket on and looks back up at you.

“You look nice,” you compliment, watching as his cheeks flush just a shade darker. “I didn’t have time to change after my meeting. If I’d known you were going to be ten minutes late, I would’ve.”

Dazai promptly scowls at you. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have waited until the last second to tell me. What if I already had plans?” he complains, but then adds, “… I think you look beautiful.”

“I wear this outfit everyday,” you dismiss, ignoring the way your chest flutters.

“I know,” he admits quietly. “You look beautiful everyday.”

Oh.

“We should go!” Dazai says suddenly, a bit too loudly to be casual. “We’re running late, aren’t we?”

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you say. “Come on, let’s go.”

The walk back to your car is quiet—the students you’d left there are gone, thank god. You can feel Dazai looking at you every few seconds as if he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. You have half a mind to just tell him to spit it out but you still find yourself a bit flustered so you just let it be until you’re in the car.

“Where are we going anyway?” Dazai finally asks as you pull out of the complex, twisting in the passenger seat to look at you. His eyes look almost golden beneath the rays of the sun, soft and excited, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers before you force yourself to focus on the road.

“You said you wanted to go to that restaurant by your campus, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your head to the side to raise your eyebrows before looking forward again. “Taking you there.”

“The rooftop restaurant looking over the park?” Dazai splutters, eyes widening. “You remembered that? It’s so expensive, I-”

You don’t even acknowledge the last thing he was saying. Instead, you give him a squinty look before asking, “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

Dazai’s lips part as he stares at you like he’s trying to say something but can’t bring himself to. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, it makes your heart twist in on itself. It’s too intense, too close to lo-

You don’t even let yourself finish that sentence, focusing back on the road as you change the subject. “They import crabs from the Beagle Channel in southern Argentina—best quality in the world, much better than that canned shit you eat every day.”

“What do you have against canned crab?” Dazai complains, leaning his head against the window. “You hate me. How did you even get a reservation at this place? They’re booked out like ten months in advance, we talked three days ago.”

You give Dazai a heavy side eye that he understands instantly from how he rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you ask, giving him a pointed smile.

“Nothing,” he scowls.

You smile to yourself, focusing on driving again. The restaurant isn’t far from his complex so you get there pretty quickly. Dazai is quiet for most of the rest of the ride aside from the occasional comment about his classes. He bitches about his engineering class and all of the irritating freshman boys that he’s taking it with because it’s a 101 class, tells you vaguely about how he’s on a roll for one of his projects for his poetry workshop, explains the plot of the book he’s reading for his creative writing class, and he notably does not mention anything about his journalism class—you don’t know if it’s because he’s too awkward to bring it up or what, but you’re grateful for it because the last thing you want to do is think about him working with Ui Koutarou to expose you as a mafia executive. You still don’t even entirely believe this isn’t some whole big scheme they concocted together.

You let the car roll to a stop in front of the tower the restaurant is in, leaving it running as you put it in park and nod for Dazai to get out. You get out yourself, grabbing the keys and tossing them over to the valet with a quick thanks before leading Dazai into the building.

He looks almost wonderstruck as he steps into the tower, brown eyes wide and glittering as he looks at all of the expensive decor in the lobby of the tower. You have to physically guide him forward, arm slipping around his waist to get him moving in the direction of the elevator, but as soon as you come in contact with him, he goes rigid. Your brows furrow, about to pull your arm back but before you can, he presses his palm against the back of your hand, holding your arm in place for a quick second. You can’t help the smile that twitches to your lips when his arm drops back to his side and you catch the pretty flush staining his cheeks as he pointedly looks away.

You lead him into the elevator, catching the pout that pushes at his lips when your arm leaves his waist and you’re going to tease him for it but then you catch the oddly intense look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, throat bobbing as if considering what to say. “It’s just… no one has ever done this for me before.”

“It’s just dinner, Dazai,” you tell him, voice quiet as you look away, missing the way his expression drops at your words.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though he sounds strained now so you give him a concerned look that he tries to play off with a smile that’s too frayed at the edges for comfort. You’re about to call him out on it but you don’t get the chance because the elevator doors slide open to the restaurant on the top floor before you can.

A familiar face stands on the other side of the elevator, delighted at the sight of you. “Hime,” the owner of the restaurant greets as you step out of the elevator with Dazai, reaching out to clasp one of your hands with both of his. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you called to see if we could get you a table tonight. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Yoshida-san, you’ll have to forgive me,” you say with an easy smile. “You know how busy work can get.”

“Of course, of course,” Yoshida replies, glancing at Dazai and inclining his head to him. “This must be your date. Come, I’ll seat the two of you.”

Dazai looks a bit out of his depth, the smile on his face strained and an unsure look in his eyes so you reach out to hook your arm into his, leading him through the restaurant as you make idle talk with Yoshida. You’re pleased when he brings you to a table near the window with a view over the whole park and the distant bay.

Yoshida bows his head down to the two of you and lets you get settled, you take a seat but then give Dazai an odd look when he just stands there with a contemplative expression. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he suddenly moves to grab the chair opposite you.

He drags the chair from his side of the table all the way to yours. The legs scrape the floor so loudly that it draws the attention of all of the other patrons of the restaurant. You stare at him, lips parted in disbelief, but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return. He’s entirely unperturbed, plopping the chair down right next to yours and taking a seat in it. He rests his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand and watching you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” you tell him but there’s no heat to your words as the corners of your lips tug up.

“You love me anyway,” Dazai coos, gaze flickering down to your lips briefly before settling back on your eyes.

When a soft, pleased smile spreads across Dazai’s face as he leans in to nudge his shoulder against yours, you have to actively remind yourself that you’re only doing this because of the blackmail.

Dazai is already lounging on your couch when you get up to your apartment. You don’t seem to notice him—you’re clearly unhappy about something, lips twisted down and brows furrowed as you talk to someone on your phone. It’s not until Dazai peeks his head up above the back of the couch to look at you do you finally catch sight of the movement, eyes flickering to the side to focus on him.

“Thanks, Tolstoy, I’ll let you know if I need him. I appreciate it,” you say before letting the phone drop from your ear and ending the call.

For a horrifying second, your expression doesn’t change and all of those insecurities that he can’t push away—that you really are only doing this because of the video, that he’s forcing himself on you instead of giving you an excuse to actually be with him that goes above the fears that are haunting you. But then, you sigh and your shoulders slump. You toss your jacket onto the other couch before sitting with him on the one he’s sitting on, knees knocking against his.

“Hi,” Dazai says with a small smile, itching to shift closer to you but hardly refraining. “You’re late today.”

“You’re early,” you reply dryly but there’s a fond curl to the corners of your lips that makes Dazai feel nice and warm. “You know, I think you’ve been at my apartment more than yours the past week.”

Dazai’s smile becomes simpering. “Why would I stay in my small, dirty apartment when I could stay in your nice one?” he asks, watching as you roll yours. “Anyway, you love it when I’m here. Your apartment would be so lonely and boring without me.”

“It would be something alright,” you agree half-heartedly, leaning your head against the back of the couch and letting your eyes slide shut.

Dazai’s smile falters as soon as your gaze leaves him, an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling spreading through his chest. Is he being too much? He has been spending a lot of time at your apartment but it’s because whenever he’s alone, his own thoughts threaten to consume him. They whisper too loudly about how you’d never be doing this without the blackmail, about how he’s so desperate to not be alone that he’d stoop to forcing you to hang out with him. They’re quieter when he’s here, even when you’re not, so he’s been spending as much time as possible in your apartment, doing his schoolwork and watching TV while he waits for you to come back.

“Long day?” Dazai finally asks to draw himself out of his own thoughts, watching as you look back over at him.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Lots of meetings. All with people I don’t like.”

You’ve become a bit more open over the past week—you still don’t tell him anything of importance, of course, but you’re at least not avoiding just about every topic that edges somewhat close to your ‘business’. He still feels like he doesn’t know you as well as he should and he hasn’t tried to push that anymore since the night you showed up at his apartment. He wants to try to push again but he’s just worried that he’s going to take it too far and he’ll mess it up.

He supposes he should at least try to feel it out though.

“Can I ask something?” he asks after a moment, almost wincing when you immediately cast him a suspicious look.

“The last time you asked me that, you were trying to figure out if I was in the Mafia,” you say doubtfully and Dazai’s throat goes dry as you lean back against the arm of the couch and extend your legs outward onto his lap. Hesitantly, he drops his hand onto your ankle, grip becoming more firm when you don’t instantly pull away.

“Well, we’ve already figured that out,” Dazai says with a sweet smile but then lets the smile drop as he adds more seriously, “I just want to get to know you better.”

You sigh, watching him carefully for a moment before nodding. “Go ahead,” you say. “Ask.”

“What’s your ability?”

Instantly, you sigh and look away. Dazai’s heart drops and his lips part to say something else but he doesn’t know what.

“I can’t, Dazai,” you finally tell him and Dazai tries not to be disappointed but he can’t help the way his lashes lower. “It’s not-you shouldn’t even know I have an ability. Only a handful of people know. It’s literally the most confidential secret in the-I can’t.”

“But I already know you have one,” Dazai presses, his tone coming across as far too close to a whine considering the look you give him. “What’s the harm in telling me what it is?”

“Dazai,” you say, voice becoming more edged. “You don’t understand what people would do to get intel on my ability—I’m not going to-”

“I just want to know you,” Dazai interrupts, words drawn out and throat tight. “I just-I want to know you.”

You stare at him for a moment and Dazai’s grip on your ankle tightens, expression dropping. Just as he’s about to drawback and give up, you sigh and look away from him.

“I can mess around with people’s minds,” you finally tell him, voice quiet. Dazai’s eyes widen, head snapping toward you as he waits for you to continue. “I can… induce different types of mental and physical states in the brain and mind.”

“Like… Emma Frost?” Dazai asks, squinting. You give him an odd look so he amends, “Like mind control?”

“No,” you answer. “I can’t… control minds. I can like… induce short term changes in emotions and sensations. I’m not directly manipulating them but putting them into a state and letting them work with it. They can either snap themselves out of it or make it stronger.”

“... I see,” Dazai says slowly. “So, you can make someone happy but if something makes them sad after, it’ll snap them out of it?”

“Pretty much,” you hum but there’s a weird look on your face that tells Dazai that maybe you’re not saying everything. “Some emotions are easier than others. Happiness is more… fragile, harder to sustain in a target. Fear is much more… a lot like a parasite—once you put it in someone’s head, almost everyone will start to spiral. It’s much harder to break out of.”

“The mindkiller,” Dazai notes, quoting one of his favorite books, a bit of morbid curiosity spiking, wanting to know how he would fare.

You give him an amused look. “Now, you’re quoting Dune? Quite the broad taste in media.”

“You’ve read Dune, too?” Dazai gapes. “You must be my soulmate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Ridiculously cute,” Dazai counters immediately, smile twitching at his lips when he sees the fond expression on your face.

Then, naturally, he makes a mistake.

“Can you use it on me?” Dazai asks, leaning forward a bit. When you give him a sharp, alarmed look, he quickly fumbles out, “Not like anything big. I just want to see what it’s like. Just something sma-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No,” you say loudly, making Dazai draw back, hand falling from your ankle to rest on the couch next to him. You pull your legs off of his lap and sit up straight, turning your body away from him. “Just no, Dazai. Don’t ask me that again.”

“I didn’t mean-” Dazai starts to apologize but he’s flustered, not having expected a response like that from you. He fucked up. Again. Just as he was making progress. Again. “I don’t-”

“I can’t turn off my ability,” you tell him quietly after a moment. “It’s… always going to some extent. Making people around me more at ease so they feel more comfortable talking to me. I don’t like using it to its full extent if I don’t have to, not on people I consider friends at least. I never know if people… I don’t know who wants to be around me for me and who’s just influenced by my ability.”

Oh.

Dazai shifts closer to you, there’s an unreadable expression on your face as you stare ahead. He hesitates for a second before reaching out and grabbing your hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you for you,” Dazai stresses. When you start to shake your head and look away, he repeats, “I do. I-”

“You wouldn’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice tight. “That’s the issue, you wouldn’t know.”

“I would know,” Dazai tells you, squeezing your hand. “I would know, I want you. I do.”

You don’t respond to him this time, staring ahead and Dazai doesn’t know what to do because you look sad. You look lost in your own thoughts, consumed by whatever is running through your head. It’s familiar—the same way he probably looks whenever he lets the parasites in his brain start eating away, sending him down a dangerous spiral.

He wants to draw you out of it.

More than that, he wants to kiss you again. Desperately.

He’s yearned for it since that night in his apartment, spent long nights alone and aching for your company when he thought you were abroad. For days, he could feel his lips tingling with the ghost of yours still brushing against them, could feel the weight of your body on his hips, grounding him when he thought he would finally be consumed by the emptiness that perpetually plagues him. He thinks maybe he can draw you out in the same way you always do for him.

He wants to kiss you, and he’s about to lean in to do just that, breath catching in the back of his throat as his body becomes prickly with nerves.

You turn your head away before he can, rising to your feet and making your way to your bedroom, leaving him damningly alone in the living room of your apartment.

He lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his lap, a cold and unsure feeling taking root in his chest.

Dazai has become a constant presence in your life.

At first, it caused you nothing but stress—you constantly feared that him showing up to your apartment would lead to unwelcome eyes learning of his existence but he’s been very careful entering and leaving the building, and Klaus has been on top of the cameras. You think it’s been around a week and a half, maybe two weeks since Dazai first confronted you about everything and in that week and a half (maybe two weeks), you don’t think a single day has gone by without you coming home to find Dazai curled up on your couch or hunched over your kitchen table.

Today is no different.

Your head is pounding when you make it up to your apartment, you’d spent two hours arguing with Chuuya over how to approach the issue with Shimazaki-kai. The Sun and Steel are struggling against them in Tokyo and Mishima Michiko had come to Yokohama personally to request assistance from the Port Mafia in routing them from Shibuya-ku. You don’t want to send Chuuya there—it’s only a matter of time before the Guild shows up in Yokohama to try to take the weretiger and you’ll need Chuuya here when they do. You can’t risk sending him off now.

But Chuuya wants to go there now—says that it’s a bad look that the Port Mafia started this conflict and is now leaving the Sun and Steel to suffer the consequences. And he’s right, but the Guild is more pressing than the Shimazaki-kai.

It’s not often that the two of you disagree on tactical decisions, but when you do, the disagreements are stressful and explosive. Both of you are bullheaded and both of you are convinced that your decision is the correct one—and Lippmann wasn’t here to force you guys to settle down so it just became more and more heated until you finally stormed off.

You pause when you enter your apartment and hear a choppy tune being played on the piano in your living room—something you vaguely recognize as the beginning of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude even with the many mistakes being made. Your stress and frustration slips away as you catch sight of Dazai sitting at the piano bench, so focused on the sheet music in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your arrival.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you quietly make your way over to him, watching as he pauses in the song and sighs, clearly frustrated by his mistakes. You take the opportunity to slide your hand across his shoulder blades; he jumps beneath your touch, eyes widening as he twists his neck to look up at you, cheeks flushing.

“I didn’t know you played,” you say absently. “If you want, I can have the spare room on this floor made into a music room for you.”

You don’t know why you offer it, but you enjoy the look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you: big and imploring, full of emotion. It’s a welcome change from the livid expression Chuuya had been casting your way for the past few hours.

“I don’t really,” Dazai says awkwardly. “I was just trying it out.”

“Well, do you like it?” you ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to him, fingers lingering on his lower back.

“I think so,” he tells you after a few moments, lashes fluttering as he looks down at the keys and then back up at you. “I think my mother used to play… I don’t really remember her, but I can vaguely remember a song she used to play.”

There’s an odd look in his eyes as he averts his gaze and you squeeze his side gently before saying, “Maybe the more you play, the more it’ll come back to you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees half-heartedly, looking at you again, more carefully this time. “Are you okay?”

You pause, not having expected him to catch onto your bad mood so quickly when you were doing your best to hide it, but you finally sigh and shake your head.

“Yeah,” you tell him, motioning for him to get up so the two of you can move over to the much more comfortable couch. “Stressful day. I thought you had class on Wednesdays.”

“It was online today,” Dazai says, propping his arms up on the back of the couch as he sits up. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until super late tonight.”

You scoff. “Yeah, until I got into a fight with Chuuya,” you mutter, making your way over to him to sit on the couch with him, looking at the puzzle he has spread out on your coffee table. “Where’d you get this?”

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “You left your computer open yesterday, I ordered some things.”

Dazai inches closer to you, there’s an indecipherable expression on his face, lips parted and eyes a bit wide. You can feel his knee nudging yours and you know what he wants. He’s been trying to make subtle moves on you for days but you just… You don’t know. You’re scared.

You’re scared.

You don’t think you’ve felt this way since you were a kid, trapped in that room in the military base on Tokoyami Island desperately trying to understand what your ability was so you wouldn’t be thrown back out into a warzone. Except now, it’s not just your fate on the line—every decision you make, Dazai’s life hinges on it and you’ve been making stupid ones for weeks. Even now, letting him stay at your apartment… Even if you do own all of the cameras, even if Klaus is on top of it, even if Dazai is being careful, it’s only a matter of time before a mistake is made.

You don’t know what you’re still holding out for. Maybe a chance to make him understand what exactly is at stake, break things off with you on his own… Maybe you’re waiting for something else. Your conversation with Tolstoy echoes through your head, his offer of sending Ilya Repin to you for you to utilize as you please.

Ilya Repin. A Crucession in Oakwood.

Someone who can wipe Dazai’s memories of you so you can send him back off to live a normal life, make him forget he ever met you. It’s not something you want to do, fiddling with people’s minds… you know better than anyone that it’s not something to take lightly. But would it be worth it to ensure he lives? That he doesn’t get drawn any further into your shitshow life? The thought makes your chest ache painfully but if it means he would be safe.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away, and you can feel the disappointment emanating off of him, you can feel his fingers brushing your arm, but before you can say anything to him, you hear your elevator bing.

Someone arriving at your floor.

Your eyes widen as you rise to your feet, you cast Dazai a panicked look. He follows after you, unsure of what he should do. Klaus is across the city—he’s the only one that can come up to your apartment without permission besides-

Besides Chuuya.

Oh shit.

“Go to the kitchen,” you say, voice tight and stressed, you push Dazai forward to get him moving. You cannot let Chuuya know that Dazai is here. “Get to the-”

“Yo.” You hear Chuuya say, voice low and distracted as he steps into your apartment. He’s looking down at a bottle of wine, so you wave your hand at Dazai frantically, shooing him into the kitchen. He shoots you a panicked look before rushing into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to let shit get so heated before.”

“You’re good,” you tell him, careful to keep the strain from your voice as Chuuya finally looks up from the bottle and makes his way over to you. “Takes two, I shouldn’t have been so quick to snap at you.”

“Nah.” Chuuya shakes his head, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been going through shit. The Boss constantly on your ass, having to drop that kid you liked-” shit “-I should’ve let it go instead of pressing. Brought you this.”

Oh, you’re in a bad spot. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as you race to figure out what to do. You have to get Chuuya out of your apartment, but the man knows you so well that it’ll be impossible to do that without raising suspicion. If this were any other day and Dazai Osamu wasn’t hiding in your kitchen, you would be trying to worm more than just a bottle of wine out of Chuuya—probably dinner and a night out to go along with it—but he’ll want to crack open the bottle before going out and your wine glasses are in your kitchen.

Shit.

“An ‘82 Rothschild,” you drawl. “You’re really trying to butter me up.”

Chuuya gives you a smile that makes you feel guilty. “‘Cause I feel like shit,” he mutters and you hardly refrain from wincing because you know he wouldn’t if he knew the truth.

You think you might be the worst person alive.

“How about we put it in the wine fridge and head out for the night?” you hum, nudging his shoulder. “Didn’t you want to try that new bar by the ports in Naka? The one Lippmann went to with his coworkers? We’ll save the wine for us to celebrate after we wipe out the Shimazaki-kai.”

A good move. You almost pat yourself on the back for it—Chuuya’s been talking about this bar for weeks, but hasn’t gotten a break from work to actually go check it out. He was livid the other day when he found out Albatross and Iceman went without him. Plus, you implied that you’d give in a little on the argument you were having with him earlier; maybe you won’t send him to Tokyo to help the Sun and Steel but you could probably send Klaus or Akutagawa to ease Chuuya’s stress over the situation.

Please, please, please, please-

“Nah,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Maybe another night. I’ll go grab some glasses, find a movie?”

Oh, fuck me.

“I’ll get them,” you say instead, too quickly from the way Chuuya is instantly casting a suspicious look in your direction so you pivot with: “I picked the last movie. It’s your turn.”

“You hate when I pick movies,” Chuuya says with a frown, studying you carefully before letting his eyes trail over to the kitchen. He’s thinking too hard, you realize, stressed, you need to make him stop before he figures out you don’t want him to go in there because once he realizes that, there’s no shot he won’t be rushing over there. “What’s really going on?”

“Nothing,” you say easily. “I’m in the mood to trash one of your low budget horror movies.”

Chuuya instantly gives you an offended look and you think, for a moment, that you’ve succeeded. “Well, I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch halfway through the movie, so pick a damn movie.”

Chuuya rises to his feet, putting the bottle of wine down on the coffee table and you want to rip your hair out—why is he so fucking stubborn? You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him, teeth grinding together, and when Chuuya looks back at you, you know that he knows.

“What’s in the kitchen?” Chuuya asks, voice low.

“None of your business,” you reply, jaw tight. “Sit down and let me get the glasses.”’

“I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” Chuuya snaps and rips his wrist from your grasp and storms over to the kitchen.

You race behind him, only able to watch as everything starts to crumble. You try to grab his wrist again but he slips out from your hold. For a scary second, you genuinely debate using your ability on him just to convince him to stop, to make him leave, but you disregard the thought as soon as it passes through your head, horrified with yourself.

“Chuuya, stop,” you say desperately, a last ditch attempt to make him stop, hoping that maybe when he hears how serious you are about this that he might reconsider, but it’s Chuuya, so of course he doesn’t.

You know it’s over when he freezes in the doorframe of your kitchen, staring into the room like he’s seen a ghost. Dreadfully, you come to stand at his side, looking over his shoulder to see what exactly he’s looking at, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Dazai sits on the floor, half hiding behind your counter but unable to fully because of his height; his legs are too long to fit behind the counter and his head is peeking above the marble, brown eyes wide as he looks between the two of you. He focuses his attention on Chuuya, who stares at him mutely in disbelief.

Dazai finally says, “Your hat is tackier in person.”

Oh my god.

Chuuya doesn’t even react to the snide comment which you think is testimony to how angry he really is. He drags his gaze from Dazai over to you and you can see the rage swimming in his eyes. You don’t know how to approach this—Chuuya is always unpredictable when he’s angry—so you think maybe you should wait for him to say something first, but that’s also risky because once he’s set off, he’s set off.

“You lied to me,” Chuuya says, voice low. “I was sitting here feeling guilty and-”

“I didn’t lie to you,” you interrupt, shaking your head, but that only pisses Chuuya off more from the way he shoots a pointed look at Dazai. “I didn’t. I did cut him off, Chuuya. I-”

“He’s sitting on your kitchen floor,” Chuuya’s spits, voice raising as he works himself up. “You let me sit here feeling guilty about this when-”

Chuuya suddenly cuts himself off, eyes widening as he stares at you, and a pit forms in your stomach, realizing he must have just come to another conclusion. Distress begins to pile in your chest because you can’t figure out what to do, frustration because this wasn’t supposed to happen. You want to look over to Dazai but you know it will only serve to piss Chuuya off even more.

“‘Is that what she told you?’” Chuuya whispers Mori’s words from a few weeks ago. “Don’t even tell me that the war with the Inagawa-kai began because of him. You told me they attacked you.”

You grimace, turning your face away and Chuuya lets out a high and reedy laugh, eyes wild with disbelief. You can feel Dazai’s curious eyes on you and you just want to curl in on yourself.

“We went to war with two Yakuza syndicates because of him-”

“We went to war because of what happened with your-” you begin to say, angry at the hypocrisy.

“And she died anyway,” Chuuya shouts, a familiar, eerie red glow beginning to emanate from his hands as he starts to lose control of his ability in his anger. “You couldn’t save her then, what makes you think you can save him now?”

You draw back as if you’d been slapped—you think you might’ve been better off getting slapped than hearing Chuuya say that. You stare at him blankly, watching as he looks over at Dazai, but you can’t bring yourself to follow his gaze.

“It would be more merciful if I just killed him now,” Chuuya says coolly. “Spare him from-”

You only move when he takes a step forward, grabbing his wrist and pressing your forearm hard against his upper chest to shove him into your fridge. Chuuya doesn’t expect you to get physical so his eyes widen as his back hits the fridge, gaze darting back to focus on you. The familiar feeling of the Tainted Sorrow sweeps over your body, coating you in that destructive red glow.

For a moment, neither of you move.

“We both know you won’t use your ability on me,” you finally say, keeping your voice low. “I’ll fuck up your brain so badly that you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for weeks if you take another step toward him.”

Chuuya doesn’t budge for a second, the tension in the room rising with each passing second. After a few minutes, he finally turns off his ability, taking in a deep breath as he shakes his head and looks away. You step back and Chuuya sighs as he leans against the fridge, forcing himself to look back at you.

“I did cut him off after we talked… ish,” you tell him and Chuuya gives you a flat look. “I did. I ran into him at the ports. One of the kyodai of the Inagawa-kai showed up, saw me with him. Klaus killed him. We had to act before they found out we drew first blood.”

“Oh my god,” Chuuya complains, pressing his hands to his eyes. “You-I had to use Corruption. The entire northern ward-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say tightly. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I-”

You let out a breath, glancing once at Dazai who’s watching you with an indecipherable expression and then ask Chuuya, “Can we go into the other room?”

Dazai’s head snaps toward you, an offended expression on his face, but you ignore him. “You’re talking about me-” he starts to protest but Chuuya gives him a sharp look that makes Dazai blanch even more, looking to you for support but you look away, missing the way his expression crumbles.

As soon as the two of you are in the other room, Chuuya gives you a hard look, waiting for you to continue.

“I cut him off after what happened at the port and I ran into him again at the event a few weeks ago,” you say quietly. “His professor for one of his classes is a journalist working for the Ivory Eagle, he has three kids—including Dazai—doing his dirty work trying to find proof of the Mori Corporation being a front for the Port Mafia.”

Chuuya stares at you. “What?” he asks blankly.

“Yeah, I know,” you grimace. “Dazai found the proof. He has a video of us from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

“You’re letting yourself be blackmailed by a college student?” Chuuya demands loudly. You give him a sharp look, but it’s too late, Dazai is already looking into the room with an indecipherable expression on his face, lashes lowering as his gaze falls to the ground. “You’re a fucking mafia executive, are you fucking with me right now?”

Your eye twitches in frustration, casting one last look in Dazai’s direction, watching the way his brows furrow as he thinks up a storm in that head of his—nothing good, you’re sure, but you can’t do anything about it right now.

“I’m not going to kill him, Chuuya,” you hiss under your breath. “Would you have killed her if she found out?”

Chuuya lets out a heavy breath and looks away, not answering your question but that’s an answer in itself.

“Look,” you continue, glancing at where Dazai had been standing only to realize that he’d walked away. You sigh and lower your voice. “I’m working on something. I just… I need time to figure out how to go about it. I don’t want him in this life either, Chuuya. I’m not that selfish.”

Yes, you are, a distant part of you whispers. Otherwise, you would have handled this as soon as he came to your apartment that first day.

Chuuya shakes his head. “You need to be careful. You have him in our headquarters, in your apartment. Do you know how thin of a line you’re treading? The slightest slip up-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say, strained. “I know.”

“Figure it out quickly,” Chuuya murmurs. “I’ll do what I can in the meantime to keep the heat off of you. Just… quit fucking around.”

Chuuya gives you a steady look and you know that he knows that you’re using this as an excuse to indulge in Dazai when you shouldn’t be. You can hardly hold his gaze, lashes fluttering as you look down. He reaches out to squeeze your forearm and you turn your head away, trying to figure out what the fuck you’re going to say to Dazai.

“Yeah, I will.”

Dazai pretends like everything is fine.

He’s still sitting cross-legged on your bed when you finally come looking for him, hands in his lap and back straight. You lean against the doorframe, an uncharacteristically soft expression on your face as you look at him—Dazai hates it, because he knows that he’s not going to like whatever you’re about to bring up to him so he decides he needs to evade the conversation in whatever manner possible.

“Did that pipsqueak leave?” Dazai huffs, only finding a bit of consolation in the way your lips curl up into a smile at his insult.

“He did,” you agree, pushing off the doorframe to make your way over to him. Dazai swallows thickly when you take a seat in front of him on the bed. You lean back on your hands, head falling to the side as you observe him. “I didn’t think he was coming over today. We’d just gotten into an argument so things were already tense. I’m sorry that it blew up on you like that.”

Dazai doesn’t want to talk about this, so instead, he smiles and says, “It’s fine. Do you want to watch a movie?”

Your brow furrows at the way he dismisses your comment—god, he doesn’t want to talk about this. He knows where it’s going to lead, he knows you’re only doing this because of the blackmail and he knew from day one that it wasn’t going to work forever but he’d hoped maybe he’d be able to woo you before then, make you want him for him, want him enough to decide he’s worth the risk. He should’ve known better—he really should have—but he’s not ready to let go just yet.

So, before you can bring it back up again, Dazai forces the smile on his face to come across a little more genuine as he tilts his head and hums, “I found a good horror movie. I’m stealing your pillow to hide behind while we watch.”

Please.

He knows you can see through the sweet smile and honeyed words but he begs you to just pretend you don’t one last time. After what feels like an eternity, you finally sigh, gaze dropping to your lap for a second before you look back up at him and say, “You’re not taking my pillow.”

Dazai doesn’t have to force a smile now, lighting up as he waves your pillow in the air and sings, “Too late!” before darting off the bed and into the other room.

“Dazai!” you call after him loudly and he tosses a smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room. He can hear you chasing after him and though his chest does feel a bit lighter, he can’t push away the cold, empty feeling that’s slowly starting to consume him.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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drabblesandimagines · 6 months

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Leon Kennedy x female reader, commissioned piece Lots of dumb fluff ahead! Thanks so much to the lovely @porcelainseashore for commissioning me with the brief of Leon using a dating app! I've said it before and I'll say it again - please do go check out Porcelain's fics! x

“So,” Leon places his elbows on the counter behind, leans back and flashes a winning smile, “how about dinner later?”

The auburn-haired woman waits for her coffee to finish dispensing before she shakes her head, lips pursed. “No, thank you, Agent Kennedy.”

“Oh.” He was sure they’d had some sort of connection. Their eyes had met across the office on more than one occasion, flirtatiously so – had he read it wrong? “You have plans already tonight?”

“Mm, something like that.” She smiles, politely, picking up her DSO-branded mug and heading out of the break room without so much as a glance back.

Leon shrugs it off – he’s good at that – and places his own mug under the spout, about to make his coffee selection when a familiar voice chirps over his shoulder.

“Have you ever thought of internet dating?”

He spins round, surprised. “Claire?”

“Hi.” She waves with a smile. “So, internet dating?”

Leon’s brow furrowed, about to ask why she was here, but from the visitor lanyard around her neck it was clear it was down to some sort of TerraSafe business, but why is she going on about internet dating?

Oh.

“Wait, did you hear…?”

“The dinner invite? Oh, yes.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Does that ever work?”

“Yes.”

Claire quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, not recently.” He retorts, turning back around and pressing the button for his black coffee to start dispensing.

“Uh-huh…” She steps forward, turns to lean against the counter to look at him. “I’m telling you, Leon - internet dating. I finally convinced Chris to give it a go about six months back, and he seems pretty happy. Been seeing a nice girl for three months now – a florist.”

Leon shakes his head, watching the coffee dispense with feigned interest. “Surprised Redfield went for it. How the hell do you introduce anyone to what we’ve seen?” At least with women from work, he didn’t have to skirt around what the hell he does all day.

“Heard of keeping work and homelife separate?”

“And Chris manages that?”

“I mean, she knows what he’s shared with her, but he took it slow. It’s not like the government can keep everything secret these days – not with everyone having a smart phone.” Claire grimaces, remembering the videos of the Alcatraz attack popping up on social media on a live stream. It was taken down pretty quick, but still popped up occasionally. They can’t hide it forever.

“Anyway, enough about Chris’ love life, I’m trying to help yours. Have you tried it? There’s websites and apps…”

Leon recalls a week of medical leave – battered, bruised and laid out on the couch on high doses of meds, flipping through the cable channels and losing hours to a show about people falling in love over the internet, only for the person to be using a fake photo of an entirely different identity and being crushed when they met in person.

“Isn’t that where the catfish are?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “We won’t set your radius that large.”

He looks down, a little confused. “My… radius?”

Leon’s not present on social media, but that’s hardly a surprise with his work. Maybe, if things had been different, he would’ve trawled through it at some point – joined a group for graduates from the Police Academy of ’98, checked in, gone to some sort of graduating class reunion where they would’ve swapped stories from precincts over a lukewarm beer or two in a hall dressed up with balloons and streamers.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t really remember the names of anyone in his graduating class, though he’s not sure if that’s down to a certain amount of knocks to the head throughout his career getting to him. He could look them up – they’ll be in some sort of database somewhere that Hunnigan could help him locate, but what would he say?

“Me? Well, I had one day on the job – hell of a first day, actually – and then I was ‘recruited’ into military training, so technically not a cop anymore either.”

“Phone, please.” Claire has moved to sit down at one of the small tables in the kitchen, now holding out her hand expectantly. He finds himself joining her, mug of coffee in one hand and the other pulling out his cell from his suit jacket pocket. He hands it over because it’s Claire and he’s known her long enough now to know she’s not going to drop the subject so easily.

“Have you got any selfies on here?”

“Don’t think so. Why?”

“To put on your profile. Anything I shouldn’t see in your gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“Seriously, Leon?” She must’ve opened the app by the way she’s scrolling down on the screen. “These are all sunsets and photos of your motorcycle.”

“What should I be picking pictures of?”

“Oh, wait… Here’s one.” She turns the phone around. It’s him, grinning, next to a corpse of a zombiefied lion. “I repeat – seriously, Leon?”

“Ha, yeah.” He smiles in acknowledgement. “I was trying to get Hunnigan interested in fieldwork with the spectacular sights.” Claire turns the phone back around and the sound of a camera shutter clicks out of the speaker.

“Ooh, that’s a good candid – and no-one needs to know what you were looking at.”

“Look, it’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t know about all this…” He rubs the back of his head.

“It’s 30 days free. Just try it and if you still don’t like it by the end of the trial, you can delete it off your phone and I won’t bring it up again.”

He stalls, taking a long sip of his coffee as he thinks. Claire means well, after all and if Chris has had luck with it, considering what Leon knows he’s seen and lived through, what does he have to lose, really?

“Fine. 30 days.”

“Great! Now, let’s set up your profile…”

Claire had given him a tutorial – swipe left if you’re not interested on a profile, right if you are. If the person swipes right in return, it’ll set you up as a match and you can start a conversation – signaled by a small speech bubble icon appearing on the bottom right.

It wasn’t until that evening that Leon tried it out properly, sat on his couch, killing time before bed and begins to swipe through. It feels a little odd – he usually likes to get to know a person somewhat before offering out his dinner invite, but this is mostly on looks alone, with a tiny snippet of profile information – age, location, what they’re looking for.

He swipes right on a blonde, her profile full of photos from beach vacations or something, says she’s not too far away from him and is ‘looking to connect with someone deeply.’ A chat box pops up immediately and after a moment or two, three dots show Beauty – he’s not sure that’s her real name - is typing.

Hey, big boy. What’s bigger – your forearms or… An eggplant emoji?

Oh.

He hesitates over writing back a response. He can flirt with the best of them, but how is anyone meant to make a genuine connection over this app? Maybe he’s too old for this shit.

He puts his cell down by his side and switches on the television instead.

“So…” Claire drawls over his shoulder over three weeks later, tracked him down to his desk.

“So…” He mocks back with a tease, swinging around in his office chair.

“Any good dates recently?”

He laughs. “How do you even get that far?”

“You’ve not gone on one?”

“Not for lack of trying.” It’s true. After Beauty, he had struck up conversation with a few more genuine girls that seemed to be going well until he’d broached the idea of a date and they’d drop off the radar. “A couple seemed interested but then stopped replying. I got one date – she didn’t show up.”

“Oh, come on.” Claire leans against his desk. “That can’t be everyone. Let me see.” There’s the expectant hand again. He sighs, picks up his phone and opens the app before handing it over to her.

She sets to scrolling through new arrivals for him, before she pauses. “Well, this one looks sweet.”

“Claire, I appreciate your concern but I just don’t think this app is for me. I gave it a go, I swear.”

“I know, but you’ve got a few days left on the free trial at least - you won’t lose anything. Just take a look?”

He takes the phone back and looks at the screen – a cropped picture of you, it looks like, your friends’ arms around your shoulders, a big, genuine smile on your face. Not a pout or a smolder in a night club mirror.

“Aw, you’re smiling.”

“Fine.” He swipes, but the message bubble doesn’t pop up. That’s the one thing he doesn’t like about this app – you never know if the other one will swipe back.

“No match.”

“Give her a moment,” Claire elbows him, playfully. “Not everyone is scrolling for dates at work.”

“Hey-”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a meeting. See you!”

You throw yourself down on the bed, a little bit tipsy after an evening of drinking with your friends, and hold your phone dangerously above your face – you’ve been so close to giving yourself a black eye from the drop so many times but never learn – and open up that stupid app. Your friend had encouraged you to sign up to it after declaring you’d been in a pity party for long enough now after your last break-up and it was time to get back out there.

You scroll through the latest arrivals, swiping left as you go. Everyone internet dates now, you don’t know why you only seem to attract utter creeps on it. You’d been on a few dates, but they’d all been entirely awkward outside the safety of the chat box.

You pause on one new arrival, Leon, 41, the first photo in the set clearly a candid. He’s dressed in a suit – no tie. Businessman, you wonder? Amazingly hot and maybe the most shiniest hair you’ve ever seen.

You roll over onto your stomach and swipe right, smiling when a chat bubble appears.

Leon had just settled into bed for the night when his phone vibrated angrily on the bedside table. He threw a hand out, blindly, and looked at the screen, half expecting it to be an email from work or a message from Hunnigan.

It’s neither – a notification from the app.

Hi, Leon. Thanks for swiping. Can I ask something?

He frowns – a unique opener, but it could still go the way of the others, he reckons. He’s not a prude, per say, but he’s seen a lot more than he was intending to these past few weeks. He backs up and has a quick scroll through your profile, vaguely recognizing your face from when he’d swiped right earlier that day – the girl Claire had deemed sweet.

Hi – ask away.

A bubble appears with three dots within.

How do you get your hair that shiny?

Leon barks out a laugh - definitely refreshing.

I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re at that stage of our relationship yet where I’m comfortable sharing my beauty secrets.

Please? Mine is so dull.

He clicks on your profile again and onto the photos but can’t see why you’re worried about your hair. Truthfully, all he registers when he looks at the picture is that sweet, genuine smile.

Looks pretty good from what I can see.

The camera adds all the shine. Are you using a filter?

Trust me when I say I wouldn’t know how.

Don’t know about filters but using a dating app? That doesn’t gel.

My friend suggested I give this online dating thing a go, so here I am.

Well, you’ll have to thank your friend for me.

Leon hesitates a moment, before shrugging it off.

I’ll be sure to, especially as it’s got me talking to you.

Your scalp tingles, but it seems nothing to do with the alcohol consumed earlier.

Too cheesy? I told you I’m new to this, right?

Nah, you’re gouda.

Leon grins.

The conversation continues to flow over the next few days. You talk about work – he keeps it vague, works in the government, can be called away on business trips last minute – and you are equally elusive in your response of office work. Internet safety, he reckons, smart girl that you are. Hearing his phone ping with a notification has quickly become his favourite sound.

Nice day? Definitely. Picked up my motorcycle – it��s been in the shop a while. Dare I ask what happened? He hesitates. Chasing a bioterrorist down a highway is perhaps a little too much…

Hit by a truck. I wasn’t on it - obviously.

Jeez. Insurance not just buy you a new one? I can’t think how that’s salvageable.

It’s my favourite, I couldn’t give up on her. You ever been on a motorcycle?

Uh-uh. Too scared.

What of?

Falling off, mainly.

No danger of that if you ride tandem - just need to be sure to hold on real tight.

You bite your lip, mulling over a response, but Leon fills the gap.

And I’d look after you, of course. Make a nice first date, don’t you think?

First date? That’s more, like, third or even fourth date material.

There’s your chance, Kennedy – don’t mess it up.

Well, then we better get the first date out of the way.

You bite your lip as you type back a response. Is that your way of asking?

If it is?

If it is, then I’m free Friday...

Perfect.

Friday morning arrives and Leon’s at his desk, typing up a report when his phone chimes. Checking over his shoulder, he pulls it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees it’s a text from you. You’d exchanged numbers the other night, deciding it time to take communication off app ahead of meeting up.

Morning. Question?

Morning. Still after my shampoo secrets?

Yes… But not that. How am I meant to recognize you?

I thought that’d be easy – by how shiny my hair is, apparently.

It’ll be dark out, though.

Is this you trying to be subtle about asking for another photo?

No comment.

Leon locks his computer, the screensaver switching to today’s date and time on a black background. He swings his desk chair around, looks around again to make sure no-one’s on their way past, and opens the camera app. He flips the viewfinder around and tries out a couple of smiles before snapping a selfie – if Claire could see him now…

He sends it through.

Included the time and date and all. Happy?

No comment.

Well, how will I recognize you?

Easy. I’ll be the one coming up to you and saying, “Hi, Leon.” See you tonight x

Until then x

The two of you had decided to meet at a bistro – varied menu for all tastes, not too intimate, excellent wine, spirits and craft beer menu.

Leon is nervous as he stands to the side of the entrance – an emotion he hasn’t truly entertained since 1998. There had been no time for it when bioweapons and death were staring him down the face. But, tonight… Well, he’s out of his element on this one. Leon had only ever approached women through work and, yes, it was to varying degrees of success but they’d already seen him properly in person, heard his voice, aware of what he does. There was a horrible niggle at the back of his mind that the date who had stood him up a few weeks ago had caught sight of him and turned heel on the spot.

He looks down at this watch to see it’s bang on 7.30. He’d arrived ten minutes too early, but didn’t want to chance being late and showing up in a fluster. When he looks up, slipping a hand back into his pocket, a figure with a familiar face is walking towards him, greets him with an anxious smile and an awkward half-wave.

God, you’re adorable.

“Hi, Leon.”

“Hi,” He smiles, one hand still in his pocket, the other hanging down by his side. He wonders if he should’ve gone in for the kiss on the cheek, but he’s missed his chance.

“Erm…” You wring your hands together. “You okay?”

“Great. You?”

Why does he feel as giddy as he did when he picked up his girlfriend for prom back at high school?

“I’m good. It’s nice to put a… voice to a face?” You laugh – light and airy - and Leon’s already desperate to hear it again.

“It really is. Er, shall we?” He gestures forward with his arm.

You nod. “Let’s.”

The conversation is stagnant at first, a sentence here or there as you peruse the drinks menu and move on to ordering starters and entrees. With a little liquid courage, though, the two of you soon slip into easy conversation.

It’s just after the appetizers are cleared when Leon realizes he’s completely and utterly smitten.

You don’t even know where the time has gone, but all of the sudden the two of you are the only diners left and it’s clear the wait staff are looking for you to leave so they can begin their nightly clean down.

He follows you out and onto the sidewalk, a few metres away from the bistro entrance, standing awkwardly opposite each other – mirroring the beginning of the evening.

“So, fancy a ride?”

You tilt your head at him curiously before you burst out into laughter and he grins, rubbing the back of his head, awkwardly, as he realizes the context.

“I mean, I brought my bike here. I can give you a ride home - on my bike.”

You smile. “Not on the first date, remember?”

“Of course.” He nods. “Sticking to your principles – I respect that. Well, can I call you a cab?”

“Oh, actually, I’m gonna walk. I live just in that building over there…” You point up to an apartment building about halfway up the next block.

“I could walk you across the street?” He cringes as he realizes maybe he’s coming on too heavy-handed. “I’m sorry, I promise I can take a hint-”

“No.” You cut across abruptly. “I mean, walking me home would be nice.”

You cross the road in silence, both wrapped up in your own thoughts. You wish you lived slightly further away so you’d have longer to work out what to say, how to end the night.

“So…” Leon begins the other side of the road, the entrance to your apartment block just ahead. He’s trying to keep calm and collected, but there’s just something about you that has made his heart race, his palms sweaty. Don’t fuck this up, Kennedy. “I had a really lovely evening.”

“Me too.” You smile back – and you mean it – but you can’t help but brace yourself. Is this the part where he says, yeah, he had a nice time, but he’d rather not do it again? It seems all too good to be true. He’s the same as he was on the phone, messages and photos.

“Great…” You take a deep breath at his pause, unconsciously clenching your fists, “..cos I was wondering how you felt about a second date?”

“You’re really desperate to get me on that motorcycle, huh?” You tease, instantly relaxing. “But, seriously, I’d like that, to see you again.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“That depends what you have in mind.” You stop, suddenly – the apartment foyer to your left. “This is me.”

“Well, we’ve done dinner, shall we work backwards and have lunch next?”

You take a step closer. “And then breakfast?”

“Fourth could be a midnight feast?” He steps forward too, misjudging the distance and something hard brushes against your stomach. Leon’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh, wait, I…” He dips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out a travel-sized bottle of shampoo with a sheepish smile. “I meant to give you this at the end of dinner – my beauty secret.”

You yank him forward by his jacket collar and kiss him before you can even think properly about what you’re doing. You step up onto your tip toes to deepen the kiss, a hand bracing yourself against his chest for a moment before you mean to step back, maybe even apologise for pouncing on the man, but Leon’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you in place, kissing you back incessantly before you both have to retreat for breath.

“Well, if I knew the shampoo would get that reaction I would’ve started the night off with it.” He murmurs, pulling away and resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta ask though - you’ll kiss on the first date, but not ride a motorcycle?”

You shrug, half-heartedly. “One’s more dangerous than the other.”

He kisses you once more, softly, ending with a teasing nibble on your lip.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, sweetheart.” -- Masterlist . 1,000 followers event

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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