#but the process of getting it to look right is painful

[lightsoutnaway]

Can i request a Charles smut? Lets say that he's playing video games/streaming, and the reader is constantly complaining how he sucks at the game or doesn't play it properly, and he gets so pissed that he literally destroys her brains out until she's begging him to stop😊🙏 PS: I love your works❤

Attention

Thank you for this request! Sorry it took so long. I got kind of stuck with it and wasn't liking it for a while.

PAIRING: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+. dom/sub dynamics, brat taming, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia

WORD COUNT: 1,885

You walked up behind Charles while he sat in his gaming chair. He had been playing all day, wrapped in grey sweatpants and glasses still on. The night before Charles had begged you to spend the night, gushing about how badly he missed you at the last race. Despite this, he was ignoring you to play video games with his friends. You wanted his attention. You wrapped your arms around Charles, hands exploring his firm chest. 

“Char, come cuddle with me,” you called as you tucked your chin into his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“Mon amour, not right now,” Charles said. You frowned. He couldn’t ignore you all day. If he was going to ask you to stay with him then he had to pay attention to you. 

“Why? It’s not like you’re winning,” you spit as you leaned away from him. Charles glanced up at you. 

“I’m winning,” Charles defended. 

“You’ve lost the last three rounds,” you pointed out. Charles scowled, but kept his eyes on the screen. 

“I won the one before that,” he replied. 

“You got lucky,” you said. 

“Ma cherie, you do not want to push me,” Charles warned. 

“I could play better than you’re playing,” you taunted. “You barely got any points last round.” 

“You never play. You could not do better,” Charles told you firmly. You could tell you were getting under his skin though. You were going to get what you wanted. He was going to give you his attention.

“I’ve watched you enough to know what not to do,” you said. “I’m sure I could figure it out from there.” 

“You are going to be in trouble, mon amour,” Charles told you through gritted teeth. You watched the screen and smirked. 

“You are too if you don’t turn left,” you said. Charles ignored you and his character was hit from the side and died. You started laughing. Charles threw the controller down and stood up. He pushed you towards the couch behind you. He grabbed your body, manhandling you till he had you over his knee on the couch. 

Charles grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants along with your underwear and tore them down your legs. You helped to kick them off. Charles chuckled. 

“So eager,” He said as he rubbed his hand over your ass. “Were you being bad just to get punished?” Before you could answer he smacked your ass cheek harshly. You moaned loudly. 

“Just wanted your attention, Char,” you confessed. 

“Well, now you’ve got it,” Charles said in a low voice as he smacked your other ass cheek. Before you could say anything he delivered another two spanks. Your legs sprang upwards from the pain and you let out a small whine. “No complaining. You wanted attention, so take the attention I give you.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you managed as he spanked you again. 

“Just be good.” It sounded like a vague threat, of what you didn’t know, but you knew even if you weren’t good you would still love it. 

Charles rubbed his hand over your ass before gently sliding it between your legs. His finger brushed your dripping wet hole and burning clit as he grabbed your thighs. He turned his hand away from your thigh, lifting two of his fingers to your opening and rubbing against your waiting center. 

“Please, Char,” you whimpered, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him. Charles met your eyes. 

“Don’t look away,” he ordered. You had barely processed the order when his fingers hooked inside you, pressing expertly against your G spot. A luxurious moan left your mouth and your eyes rolled back into your head. Charles groaned at the sight. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach where you were lying across his lap.

“Charles, fuck,” you moaned lowly. Charles rubbed his fingers against your G spot, tension building in your stomach. He curled his fingers inside you, easily finding your sweet spot. He started slow, reveling in how little he could do and still have you be desperate for him. When your moans started evening out he immediately prevented you from calming, taking on a lightning fast speed and thrusting his fingers more roughly. You cried out in surprised pleasure and wiggled in Charles lap. 

“Stay still,” Charles ordered, delivering a light smack with his free hand. 

“Charles, I’m going to come!” You cried. 

“I didn’t say you could yet,” Charles told you. You whined in protest at his words. 

“Please, Char. I need it so bad,” you whimpered. 

“Wait, baby,” Charles instructed you. He adjusted his hand and you whined loudly. 

“Charles,” you begged. “I can’t.” 

“Not yet,” Charles answered firmly. You whimpered, hyperventilating to try and stave off your orgasm. “Tell me you’re sorry,” Charles ordered. 

“I’m sorry, Char! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again! Please, please please,” you begged him. 

“What are you sorry for?” Charles asked. You whimpered, unsure what the right answer was. “Are you sorry for interrupting me?” He asked. “For being a brat?” You nodded. 

“Yes! I’m sorry for being a brat. I’m sorry, sir. I won’t do it again,” you whimpered. 

“Come.” The command left Charles' mouth and you allowed yourself to let go of the powerful tension brewing inside you The pleasure came over you in electric waves, coursing through your whole body and filling you with even more desire. You moaned wildly and your body shook with pleasure. Charles chuckled at the sight of you losing conrol. You started to still again and he pulled his hand away, quickly delivering two quick smacks to your ass before pulling you off his lap. 

“Clothes off,” Charles ordered. You caught your balance, reaching out and grabbing Charles shoulders. You were still floating from your orgasm, but you managed to get your clothes off and let Charles position you on the couch once he had taken his off as well. He laid you down on your back and pressed your legs up to your chest, resting your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over your body. 

“I’m sensitive,” you whispered up to Charles. He smirked. 

“I didn’t even fuck you yet,” Charles teased. 

“Well, don’t make me wait anymore,” you taunted back. Charles didn’t like that. His face hardened and he slammed into you. You cried out in pain. 

“Too hard!” You whined. Charles grinned. He pulled out and slammed into you harshly again, keeping himself pressed deep inside you once he had. 

“I don’t want any more attitude from you,” he told you. “You take what you’re given.” You whimpered as he slammed into you once more. He pressed his hips down further against you, his tip prodding into your cervix.

“I’m sorry, sir. I just need you so bad,” you told him. 

“You’re going to have me,” Charles replied smugly. He started slowly pulling out of you. You were still dripping from your first orgasm and your wetness had coated Charles’ cock. Your cunt made delicious sloshing noises as he moved, pulling a satisfied moan from Charles. He pulled out slowly but his thrusts were quick. He rolled his hips as he pressed himself all the way into you. You were chanting his name within minutes and Charles knew he had you on the precipice once more. 

“Char, I’m close again,” you warned him. 

“I know. When I tell you.” His words were firm and you didn’t find yourself wanting to disobey. You dug your nails into Charles’ arms as the muscles in your body tightened again. 

“Charles!” You begged. 

“Go ahead,” Charles answered. You let out a sob as you fell apart around his cock, your walls tightening down on his cock. Charles groaned and his hips stuttered as he held off his own orgasm. He reached down between your legs and pressed his thumb down against your clit, aiding in your pleasure as he stopped his thrusts. You let out a loud cry when his thumb made contact with your clit and your back arched away from the couch. 

“You look so pretty when you come, ma cherie,” Charles praised. “So fucking gorgeous.”  He leaned back, his hands moving to your legs and rubbing up and down your thighs softly to soothe you. You looked up at him through heavily lidded eyes as your body twitched from aftershocks. Charles smiled at you devilishly. 

“One more,” he said. You shook your head. 

“No, Charles, please,” you objected. 

“Yes, ma cherie,” Charles shut down your protests. “One more. Be a good girl.” You huffed indignantly but spread your legs wider. 

“Be nice this time, Char,” you pleaded with him. He nodded. 

“I’ll be nice,” he promised. True to his word, his thrusts were gentler, still firm enough to have your mind spinning, but not as harsh as he had been fucking you. Your whole body was burning in overstimulation as he rolled his hips against you. Charles had you teetering on the precipice again quickly. “Are you close?” He asked. 

“Yes, sir,” you whimpered in response. 

“You can come after I’ve filled you up,” Charles told you through a gasping breath. His grasp on your hips tightened and he started thrusting more quickly, chasing his own high. He lifted your hips, adjusting the angle he fucked you at and let out a curse alongside your name. 

“Give it to me, Char. It’s what I want,” you called up to him. Charles groaned. 

“Say it. Say what you wanted from me,” he begged you. 

“I want your cum,” you cried. “Want it deep inside me. Want you to make me nice and full.” Charles let out a deafening moan as he emptied himself inside you. As soon as you felt him cumming you let yourself go. Your cunt pulsed around Charles, milking him of everything he could give you. You ran your nails down Charles’ back, leaving angry red scratch marks behind. Charles let his hips fall against yours as he caught his breath. He looked down at your swollen cunt, coated in your wetness, his cum dripping out around his cock, still lodged inside you. He reached down and pressed his thumb against your clit. You cried out and your body jumped in shock. 

“Charlie, please. No more,” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks. Charles’ eyes softened and he reached up and wiped the tears off your cheeks. He leaned down and kissed you. 

“Okay, ma cherie. No more,” he agreed. He gently pulled out of you and then dragged you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. 

“Thank you, Char,” you whispered, rubbing your cheek against his chest. 

“Next time you want to be fucked just say that,” Charles told you. 

“You were ignoring me,” you pouted. Charles sighed. 

“I was,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, ma cherie,” Charles apologized. “I don’t know why. Being with you is better than any game,” he finished. You smiled softly. You leaned up and kissed him sweetly. 

“Cuddle now?” You asked. Charles chuckled. He positioned his arms around your body carefully and then stood, lifting you up with him. He started walking towards his bedroom. 

“For as long as you want,” he promised. You smiled brightly. 

“That means forever then,” you replied. Charles smiled softly. 

“Forever,” he fantasized. “I like the way that sounds.”

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 SOMETIMES ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU (LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: realizing you have no idea when dazai's birthday is, you and chuuya embark on a massive quest to figure it out. and you do—but you also find out something far more worrying in the process, making you question if you ever really knew dazai osamu. the issue? you have no way of bringing it up to him. but you'll have to worry about that later anyway. first things first: you have to plan a birthday that dazai will never forget. {sfw, 14.8k}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: AHHHHHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOYYYYYYYY im so proud of how this fic came out genuinely its my favorite thing ive written to date. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (warnings: fem!reader, mostly fluff with some angst sprinkled in at the beginning and end)

“Hey, do you know when Dazai’s birthday is?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever stop thinking about him?”

Your jaw drops as Chuuya lets out the loud complaint, head snapping to the side to focus on where he’s sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor near headquarters, cheek pressed against the headrest, glaring at you as the artist continues to work on the right half of his upper back, finishing up the last section of the art spanning across his entire back. It’s his biggest one yet, you can hardly see an inch of unmarked skin—bright reds of camellia flowers and different types of animals and objects centered around the skull of a ram decorate his back. It’s beautiful, you have to acknowledge that, you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a stunning tattoo before and Chuuya is beyond pleased with how it’s turning out considering how he’s constantly pulling off his shirt to look at it in a mirror whenever he gets the chance.

To honor the Flags, he’d told you when he dragged you along for the first session. You didn’t know most of them—you’d worked with Lippmann a few times considering his job within the Mafia, and you’d met with Iceman to give him the rundown on targets that needed to be handled when Mori would send him to you in Kyoto, but that was about the extent of your interaction with them. Chuuya’d been closer to them—he didn’t like to talk about them at first, but he’s gradually been more and more open with it.

You think it’s because he’s afraid of forgetting them.

“You’re an asshole,” you snap after getting over the shock of his rude comment, turning your head away to look out the window.

Dazai evades the two of you whenever Chuuya has one of his sessions scheduled. You think it’s kind of funny, honestly; you know he does it because he hates pain and he knows that if he joins you guys, Chuuya will somehow goad him into getting a tattoo with a dare or a challenge that he won’t be able to back down from. So, instead, he makes excuses for missions that you both know damn well he doesn’t have.

“No, I don’t know,” he finally says irritably. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

You give him an appalled look. “He’s your friend, and your partner. What do you mean you don’t know?”

“That bastard is not my friend,” Chuuya instantly hisses, but you can’t help but notice that he suddenly looks troubled by the realization that he doesn’t know Dazai’s birthday.

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes, knowing damn well that it’s a blatant lie. “That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Is not,” Chuuya spits.

“Is too.” 

Chuuya would have kept going with the back and forth, but he’s given a sharp look by the tattoo artist working on his shoulder and he settles down, but not before shooting you one last withering look.

“I bet he knows your birthday,” you add after a few moments of silence, just to trigger Chuuya again.

It works.

He lets out a noise more befitting of an animal, head snapping back to the side to look at you. “He definitely does n-” He cuts himself off before he can even finish the sentence, glaring at you. “That’s because that freak knows everything somehow.”

You only give him an easy shrug. “Just saying, it’s a bit…” You give him a twisted expression, nose wrinkled and lips pressed together rather than saying the word out loud, and Chuuya looks murderous. 

“It’s a bit what?” Chuuya demands. “You don’t know his birthday either.”

“I’m not his partner,” you counter to hide the fact that you are very bothered over not knowing his birthday.

“No, you’re just his girlfriend,” Chuuya says snidely.

Your face heats up. “I am not his girlfriend, Chuuya,” you scowl. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chuuya replies sarcastically, giving the tattoo artist an apologetic look when he gives the ginger another sharp warning with his eyes. “If Dazai wanted us to know his birthday, he would have told us. Y’know how secretive he gets over his personal life—he’d be shouting it off every rooftop if it was something he wanted us to do something about.”

You’re not quite as convinced.

At first glance, Dazai doesn’t shut up—he finds any and every reason to hear himself speak, whether it be random facts about crabs or ranking methods of suicide from least to most painful. Because of his tendency to run his mouth, most people don’t realize just how secretive he is about his personal life. You’ve realized that he probably uses it as a tactic to evade questions, because when people do poke and prod about his personal life, he becomes avoidant, expertly redirecting the conversation to something less personal by subtly changing the subject or pissing off whoever (Chuuya) is talking to him. You always catch it—conversation manipulation is your thing, you’ve finely honed your skills in guiding discussion to your discretion, it’s a skill that comes in handy at the negotiation table and in politics. You know he knows that you catch it too, always watching you carefully to ensure that you don’t call any attention to what he’s doing.

You don’t, of course, you’re not going to put him on the spot like that, but you don’t understand it. Well, you can to an extent—if you had random people prodding at your personal life, you’d also evade the topic. But you and Chuuya aren’t random people. You’re his friends, and you can’t for the life of you understand why he won’t open up to the two of you a little.

Every time you bring up the subject of him to him, he starts acting strange and cagey, like he knows that his evasion tactics won’t work with you and he wants to say something, but simply can’t get the words out. Maybe it’s his mistaken belief that he doesn’t deserve all of the things other people take for granted: comfort, friends, happiness. But still, you can’t imagine that Dazai doesn’t crave the experience of a normal birthday—well, as normal as things can get for teenage mafiosos—because you know that Dazai at his core simply wants to be a normal teenager.

As to why Dazai would rather deny himself happiness than to let you and Chuuya closer than arm's length? The answer alludes you even you.

When Chuuya grimaces, letting out a heavy breath and averting his gaze, you think that he’s come to the same conclusion as you.

“I assume since you’re bringing it up, you have some sort of plan?” Chuuya sighs, tired.

You smile.

“Naturally.”

You think Chuuya might kill you after this.

You can’t help but snort to yourself as you kneel on the floor next to Mori’s desk, rifling through his drawers to find the key to his file cabinet. Chuuya is somewhere downstairs trying to keep the man distracted with a fake medical condition while you try to find Dazai’s file in his office. You can hear him in the ear piece you’re wearing, flustered and stuttering over his words. You can almost picture how red his face is. 

Chuuya isn’t a bad liar, usually—in fact, he can act his ass off on missions—but lying to the Boss is an entirely different story. You think that you probably should have been the one to keep Mori distracted, but you worried that if Mori got up here and Chuuya was still searching, he wouldn’t be able to play it off. So, this was the lesser of two evils. 

Mori is getting increasingly more irritated as Chuuya keeps miswording the symptoms and backtracking, then blaming it on how ‘his head just hurts so bad, he can’t think.’ You’re sure he’s starting to suspect something—or more likely, the man probably figured it out right away—but you also know he’s too hyper-paranoid about losing his strongest ability user to dismiss Chuuya’s blatant lies for what they are.

You let out a victorious puff of air when your hand encloses around the key you’d been searching for, immediately shuffling over to the file cabinet, unlocking it as quickly as you can to shuffle through them, trying to find Dazai’s.

Mori has too many files, you think to yourself frustrated, eyes scanning as fast as you can as you flip through them, trying to spot the one you need, becoming increasingly more frantic when you hear Mori and Chuuya enter the elevator, not sure if they’re coming up to his office or if Mori’s dragging Chuuya down to one of the lower floor infirmaries.

Fuck, you think, finally flipping through to the D’s and letting out a frustrated groan when his file isn’t even there. You go through it again, more carefully this time, and nearly tug out your hair when you realize that either Mori misplaced Dazai’s file or there isn’t one. But you can’t imagine either of those options being true.

Getting increasingly more anxious as the seconds pass, and knowing that Chuuya actually will kill you if he embarrassed himself like this for nothing, you start rifling through the other letters in a panic. From the A’s all the way to the Z’s, it’s only on your second scan through that you pause, spotting a thick, unnamed file in the T section.

You stare at it for a moment, brows furrowed, a gut feeling twisting inside you as you try to pull out the file. It’s a struggle—the file is thick and the drawer is stuffed, but when you finally get it out and flip it open, your eyes widen when Dazai’s face stares back at you in the top left corner of the first paper in the file. He’s younger in the picture—no older than thirteen or fourteen—both eyes uncovered, black and void of life.

You let out a shaky breath, heart racing as your eyes scan dismissively over any information that’s not his birthday, because you know damn well Dazai will not take kindly to yours and Chuuya’s snooping and you want to mitigate the damage, only to halt when your gaze catches on blacked out information right above the date.

His name?

You pause, eyes focusing momentarily as you try to understand what you’re reading.

NAME:  ████████████████ 

ALIAS: Dazai Osamu

What?

You don’t know how long you stare at the file, lips parted and a torrent of emotions clawing at your chest. Mainly confusion, but also something else—tighter, more unwelcome. You don’t even have time to try to figure out what you’re looking at because at once, the remote in your pocket is buzzing, the last signal from Chuuya that Mori is on the floor of his office.

You let out a string of curses, putting the file back where you found it, locking the cabinet and putting the key back before darting to the other side of the desk. You mask the confusion and nerves rattling your mind and body with an irritated expression just as the door opens.

“… ggest that you take some time to rest, Chuuya-kun. Physically, there is nothing wrong with you.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes meeting Mori’s as you frown deeply. “You’re late,” you say. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes.”

“Ah, apologies, I’m afraid young Chuuya-kun has spent the past twenty minutes following me around with nonexistent health issues,” Mori replies with a thin smile, purple eyes carding over you before he looks around his office curiously, as if he knows you’d been up to something but doesn’t know what. Chuuya cringes next to him and gives you a withering look, he opens his mouth to protest but Mori is speaking again before he can get anything out. “What did you want to discuss?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the situation in Vladivostok,” you say, eyes following Mori, waiting for him to sit down so you can. You watch as he glances around his desk, as if trying to figure out what you’d been doing before he showed up. You almost smile when his eyes narrow after coming empty handed. “I think it would be in our best interest…” 

As you sit down across from Mori, you slip your hands behind your back, giving Chuuya a thumbs up, letting him know that his humiliation was not in vain.

Step one, complete. June 19th.

“I will never fucking forgive you for that,” Chuuya hisses when the two of you finally leave Mori’s office. “Never. That was humiliating.”

You snort. “It was pretty bad.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya snaps. His face is still on fire, has been for the past twenty minutes as you explained your plan for the new organization rising to power in eastern Russia. “Well? When is his birthday?”

You cringe and Chuuya is instantly glowering at you. “Don’t even tell me you didn’t find it. You gave me the thumbs up. I’ll-”

“No, I got it,” you say dismissively. 

That’s not what you’re cringing over—you’re cringing for two reasons: 1) his birthday is less than five days away and you have no idea how the two of you are going to figure something out before then, and 2) the reminder of Dazai’s file, its misplaced location and the blacked out information where his name should have been, the alias labeling what you thought was his real name.

Your lips part to bring it up to Chuuya, but you hesitate because you don’t know if you should. The last thing you want to do is upset Dazai because you let something out that he didn't want anyone to know.

“Well?” Chuuya demands. “What is it?”

“June 19th,” you say, watching as Chuuya blanches. “Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do in four days?” Chuuya hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to look at him. “I don’t even know what that bastard would want.”

You’re just as lost, grimacing as you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Dazai never really… wants for anything.”

You stare ahead listlessly, leaning against the elevator wall as the two of you head down to the first floor. Dazai likes playing video games, but he gets bored of them quickly. His room is stacked with games he’s played once and then tossed to the side. He likes crab, but you’re not going to get him canned crab for his birthday. He likes suicide, and you’re pretty sure a new edition of that wretched book of his came out, but you also don’t want to get him that for, well, obvious reasons.

“Maybe we can get him a pet crab?” Chuuya frowns.

“He’ll kill it,” you dismiss, “and then he’ll spend months whining over it. And blaming us.”

“Fair enough.”

The elevator door slides open as the two of you reach the bottom floor, and you watch as the subordinates meandering about incline their heads toward the two of you as you pass by. You only absently wave them off, mind racing as you try to figure out what to do for Dazai’s birthday. Crab, suicide, video games—what else could Dazai possibly like?

You think the only other thing is-

Oh. Oh. You have an idea.

A smile spreads across your face. “Chuuya,” you say, relieved, “I have the best idea-”

“There you guys are,” Dazai’s familiar voice rings from the right, and immediately, Chuuya gives you a sharp, panicked look and you shut your mouth, stiffening. “I was…”

Dazai trails off, and you briefly shut your eyes, because wow, that was entirely unsubtle. Dazai’s smile is more strained now and the shine in his dark eye fades, the palpable excitement withers away in a matter of seconds.

Fuck.

“I see,” Dazai says, voice cool and withdrawn. “You guys are busy. It wasn’t important anyway.”

“Dazai,” you call after him, taking a few steps, but the boy has already whirled around, stalking off the way he came. He ignores your call of his name. “Shit.”

“He totally took that the wrong way,” Chuuya says, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“How astute, Chuuya,” you say dryly, chest tight as Dazai disappears around the corner.

“You know, for someone who brags about not needing anyone, he’s pretty fucking sensitive,” Chuuya notes.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Chuuya,” you snap at him, but the redhead only shrugs carelessly in response.

“It’s the truth. Anyway, what was your idea?” 

Even with the weight of Dazai clearly being upset heavy on your chest, the reminder of your idea for his birthday still causes a sly smile to spread across your lips.

“You’re gonna love this.”

Not only was Dazai upset, but he was upset enough that he hasn’t come back to your apartment in three and a half days. You figure he must be back at his shipping container, or maybe staying with those other friends of his, but you feel lonely without him. It’s weird not coming back to your apartment to find him lounging on your couch eating your favorite snacks; it’s different when he has missions and can’t be here, right now? He’s choosing to not be here, and that makes you feel gross and uncomfortable.

You feel bad, and no matter how many times Chuuya tells you to look on the bright side—that you guys can plan his birthday without him constantly hovering, figuring out what the two of you are doing—it just makes you feel worse. 

You’re sitting in your apartment waiting for Chuuya when the elevator bings, signaling someone coming up to your apartment—and considering there’s only two people who the front desk let up without your explicit permission, and one of them is still dealing with issues at one of the ports, which flooded from all of the rain the past few days, there’s only one person who it can be.

Your eyes widen as your head snaps up, looking to the elevator as the doors slide open, revealing Dazai fumbling with something in his jacket as he steps out. He doesn’t even notice you until you rise to your feet, and when he does, he’s instantly guarded. 

“You’re supposed to be on a mission,” he accuses, voice low.

You’re a bit hurt that Dazai only showed up to your apartment because he thought you wouldn’t be here but you mask it with a tilt of your head and a curious expression.

“I am on a mission,” you say, and it’s not a lie—the mission is finalizing the plans for Dazai’s birthday, step two starts in four hours and you need to confirm things with Chuuya before it begins. What awful timing, you realize mournfully, because you do want to smooth things out with Dazai but right now you can’t afford to. “It’s one I can do at home.”

Dazai makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, gaze focusing on the folders laid out in front of you. Closed, luckily, you’d been skimming through one but you got bored while waiting for Chuuya and decided to scroll on your phone.

“I only came to pick up my other jacket,” Dazai finally says, voice still cold and distant—you hate it.

Your eyes track down to Dazai’s coat, noticing the blood that’s dripping from it onto your wood floor.

You cringe, but then extend an olive branch by asking, “Want me to throw it in the wash?”

Dazai hesitates, a reluctant expression crossing his face but he nods, slipping it off his shoulders and padding over to you slowly, handing it to you carefully so as to not get the blood on your couch. Your fingers brush his as he does and your throat spasms a bit.

Dazai draws back quickly, but then he looks down at the files in front of you, and then back to you and asks, “… Want help with that?”

Shit.

This is Dazai’s olive branch, and you have to reject it. Because then he’ll realize this is no mission, and all of the plans for his birthday will go to waste.

“Nah,” you say easily. “It’s fine. It’s quick, where were you heading out to?”

Dazai looks a little put out by your rejection, but he doesn’t look too bothered, so he probably took your lie as truth.

“Bar Lupin.”

You roll your eyes.

Dazai gives you a dirty look.

“I don’t know why you get so jealous about them,” Dazai says pettily, obviously trying to get a retaliatory dig in for whatever wound he thinks he received the other day. Your eye twitches at the accusation. “I knew Odasaku before you.”

You pause at that.

Does Oda know Dazai’s real name? You’re hit with a wave of vicious jealousy, and faced once again with the back and forth you’ve been dealing with the past three days—do you really know Dazai? He’s always hid a lot from you, you knew that, but to realize that you only know him by an alias… You don’t understand it—is it by choice? Does he just no longer want to associate with that name? If that’s the case, then you don’t even want to ask and make him uncomfortable. 

But what if it’s not? What if Dazai Osamu is just a fake persona he’s built to hide his real self? You doubt he’s a spy, Mori would obviously know but… if it was Mori that forced him to take on a new name and identity? If he wants to let people in but can’t? You remember all of the times when you ask him things and he stares at you as if he wants to answer but doesn’t know how.

“You shouldn’t think too much, your small brain will implode.”

“Fuck you.”

Drawn from your thoughts, you glare at Dazai, who only gives you a simpering smile in return, eye regaining that little bit of shine it’d lost when he ran into you and Chuuya that day. Then he hesitates again and you raise your eyebrows.

“I’ll call things off with Odasaku and Ango? … You picked out that movie last week, we never watched it. We can watch it after you finish up?” His voice is quiet, uncertain and you feel like a cunt, because you have no way of saying no without being a cunt. 

You’d already told him that the mission wouldn’t take long, so you can’t use that as an excuse. You think maybe you should just call off tonight with Chuuya, meet at his apartment later on to try to get things for dawn, when everything is to take place. It would be risky, you don’t know if you can pull off such an elaborate scheme with such little preparation and Dazai, of all people, as the target, but you think you’d rather risk that then say no to him right now. 

Your lips part to agree, mind already racing trying to figure out how to get all the folders out of here before his nosy ass can peak at one of them, but you’re interrupted by your elevator binging. Again.

Oh, fuck.

Dazai stills as his gaze cuts backward, eye sharp as the elevator doors slide open and reveal an irritated Chuuya, soaked up to the waist and covered in mud.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya seethes. “I’m never helping out at the ports again. They’re fucking incompetent, I-”

Chuuya pauses when he sees Dazai. Dazai doesn’t budge. For a split second, not a single one of you dares to move. You can see the quick cogs within Dazai’s mind turning as he pieces together an answer—why you didn’t accept his help, why you took so long to respond. Dread piles in your stomach as you try to figure out what to say only to come up empty-handed. For someone known for a quick tongue and sharp brain, you always somehow find them failing you when faced with conflict with Dazai. 

Finally, Dazai breaks the silence with a cool smile and a mirthful look in his eye, glancing back at you.

“That’s why you wanted me out of here. Okay.” He leaves no room for questions, doesn’t even bother to go into his bedroom to grab his other jacket before stalking forward and entering the elevator Chuuya just came out of, not even acknowledging his partner before smacking the button to the first floor.

“Dazai!” you call after him, taking a few steps toward the elevator but he only turns his chin as the doors slide shut. You shout after him angrily, “And you say I’m the jealous one!” but you doubt he even heard it.

“That bastard has the worst fucking timing ever,” Chuuya says as soon as he’s gone, unperturbed.

You give Chuuya a withering look, wanting to curl up on your couch and die. So you do that. The weight on your chest that had only just finally started to relieve itself from you returns with a vengeance, and you suddenly feel like you want to cry, unsure of how everything has gone so wrong the past few days when you just want to do something nice for him. You tuck your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, placing your chin on top of them.

“Relax,” Chuuya says, tossing himself onto the couch next to you; you don’t even have it in you to be annoyed by the water and mud, shoulders slumping as he tosses an arm around you and lets you lean into him. “It’ll be fine. Blockhead won’t even know what hit him tomorrow. C’mon, let’s get this finished so we’re ready to go.”

“… You want us to… kidnap the Demon Prodigy?”

Your subordinates stare, expressions pale and aghast as they share looks with one another. You stand resolute, head held high, and Chuuya raises his eyebrows next to you. Your eye twitches at the moniker that follows Dazai everywhere.

“That’s what we said, yes,” you say, frowning. “Was I unclear?”

“No, hime-” You roll your eyes at yet another one of Mori’s ghastly titles.

He must find it quite amusing, pleased with himself every time he watches you turn green with disgust when he insists on using the term. Even worse, it seems he’s somehow managed to coax your subordinates into using the shitty moniker too. The old man must really enjoy pissing you off, he’s certainly very skilled at it. 

Your lip curls up in irritation when your subordinate continues.

“It’s just-what if-”

“You will not be punished for targeting an executive,” you say dismissively. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“We fear that the Demon Prodigy will… draw his gun when threatened,” the man continues, grimacing as if trying to choose his words carefully. You don’t recognize him—you think you should probably get to know your subordinates better, you’ve left most dealings with them to your partner, Itou… who you also have to get in contact with for this plan to work. You wince, realizing you still have much more to do within the next few hours. “How should we proceed if he does?” 

“Dazai probably will.” You stress his name, giving the man a withering look. To his credit, he winces and looks away. “But he will also be drunk, and slower, taken off guard, so you will… Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have the advantage over even a drunk and surprised Dazai, but there are more of you, so there’s that.”

“Way to inspire confidence,” Chuuya mutters dryly.

You shrug, “I’m not going to delude them before sending them out. They should be prepared to take a bullet or two. Hopefully nonlethal—you have bullet proof vests.”

“You’re fucked up,” Chuuya snorts, before turning his attention to the dozen or so gathered subordinates. “There will be minimal risk, and remember, nobody is to know about this. Nobody. Not even the other executives, or the Boss.”

“Especially not the Boss,” you add. “For the next day and a half, you’re relieved of duties. Go back to your families, or get shit-faced drunk, but don’t come back to headquarters. Under any circumstances. Clear?” 

The men exchange looks with one another, uncertain. “And if he draws his gun?” the man prods again. 

You share a look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye. “He’s not to be injured,” you finally say, voice firm, not leaving any room for doubt. “Under any circumstances. Inject him with this, you’ll be fine.”

You pull from your pocket a sedative that you’d pocketed from Mori’s office before, dangling it in front of them, waiting for one of them to reach out and take it. When they do, you lean back on your heels and look at them.

“This has to be successful,” you tell them, finally starting to feel the pinpricks of anxiety run through your chest the closer it gets to go-time. Dazai is so mad at you right now, and if this fails, it’ll make things ten times worse. Failure isn’t an option—it never is, but especially not now. “I won’t accept anything less.”

“Yes ma’am,” one of your subordinates murmurs and the rest echo, half of them look as if they’re marching off to their death and you absently make yourself a note to give them a big bonus this month. “Can we at least know why we’re kidnapping the De-Executive Dazai?” 

You smile. 

“It’s his birthday gift.”

Dazai is in a bad mood.

Oda watches curiously as the boy downs his seventh (eighth?) drink, wondering if he should tell him to slow down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ango cringing, lips parted as if to speak but then reconsidering as he shakes his head and takes a sip of his own alcohol, looking thoroughly concerned. Dazai hasn’t said a word since he showed up two hours ago in a foul mood, and every time Oda opens his mouth to ask, Ango gives him the sharpest look and Oda instantly shuts his mouth.

“I think the slug is dating-” Dazai finally speaks, voice rough, right hand clenched around his glass of whiskey. It’s as if he can’t even bring himself to say the words and Oda’s eyes narrow as he studies him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “I think the slug is dating… her.”

Her. He must mean you. You’re pretty much the only ‘her’ that Dazai ever refers to—goes on about you nonstop whenever he gets a few drinks in him.

“That’s nice,” Oda says without thinking, until he sees the horrified look cast his way by Ango. “That’s awful.”

“It is awful,” Dazai agrees with a hiss. “It’s awful. I hate it. It’s disgusting.”

Oh, Oda realizes, a bit more amused, grateful that Dazai is too busy glaring into his drink to see the smile that curls to the corner of his lips. Oda had suspected that Dazai has a crush on you just from the way he talks about you—going from long winded rants of how agonizing you are to live with (as if he doesn’t actively choose to live with you) to wistful recounts admiring your missions (although those quickly shift into rants, as if Dazai catches himself yearning and has to make up for it by acting like it never happened). 

Oda and Ango realized that Dazai was obsessed with you months ago—back before the Dragon’s Head Conflict even ended, not long after you showed up, actually, when he first started talking about you. Oda assumed that it was a kiddie crush that he’d grow out of, but here he is a year later, just as infatuated—if not more so.

Cute.

“What-” Ango begins only for his voice to waver, glaring at Oda when he sees the smile on the man’s lips. He sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose before retrying. “What makes you think they’re dating?” 

“The other day I went looking for them and I found them together, and I was gonna ask them to go to the arcade with me, but as soon as they saw me, they got all stiff and uncomfortable like they didn’t want me there.” 

Dazai almost sounds hurt by it—words strung out a bit long, lips curved down. It’s not often that Oda gets to see him act like the sixteen (seventeen now? Oda realizes he doesn’t even know the boy’s age and makes a note to ask) year old that he is, and while it’s unfortunate that this one is stemmed by him feeling rejected by his friends, he also can’t help but smile at it. Which Ango catches from the appalled look that the other man gives him.

Oda smothers the smile again instantly.

“That doesn’t mean that they’re dating,” Ango begins, trying to be reasonable, but is cut off when Dazai tosses him a sharp glare.

“And then,” Dazai continues, “I went home before because I thought she was going to be on a mission, but she was there working on it, and I offered to help her with it so she could finish faster, but she said no. And I didn’t think anything of it, but then I said I was going to reschedule with you guys for another day so we could watch a movie, and she didn’t respond at first, and I thought that was weird, and then guess what? The slug showed up. She was blowing me off to hang out with him.”

Wow, Oda thinks to himself. That’s a lot to break down. 

Home. Oda is careful this time to not let his lips quirk up into a smile but it’s impossible to hide the fond look in his eyes as he looks down at a sulking Dazai, who has slumped over the bar top, absently playing with the spherical ice in his drink. Oda has never heard Dazai refer to anything as home before. His shipping container had always just been the shipping container, and up until, well, today, your apartment had always just been your apartment. Ango catches the wording too from the way his eyes widen a bit.

And then on top of that, Dazai? Offering to help someone with work? Oda thinks there’s a better chance of fire raining from the sky. Oda is realizing that this really is more than a kiddie crush—not that Dazai would probably ever acknowledge that. Oda wonders if he should help him get there. 

“That doesn’t mean they’re dating,” Oda finally says, taking a sip of his drink and ignoring the way Ango gives him a side eye, focusing instead on how Dazai turns his head to the side to look at Oda. If Oda didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy is pouting. “They might be planning something for you, don’t want you around for it. You had that mission recently, didn’t you? The one everyone said would fail?”

Oda realizes, a bit too late, that if that is the case, he just ruined the surprise and silently apologies for it. But Dazai doesn’t seem to take him seriously anyway, rolling his eye as he returns to bouncing the ice in the glass.

“Yeah, right,” he says dryly. “No one does anything like that for me.”

Oda purses his lips, not responding, and Ango sighs as he looks away. Oda tries to figure out what to say, testing some words on his tongue but they all feel wrong.

Finally, he chooses to just be blunt. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

The noise Ango lets out is all but a whimper, he buries his face in his hands as if to disappear. Dazai’s gaze cuts to the side, head turning slowly as he focuses on Oda.

“What?”

Oda thinks maybe he should stop talking, but he doesn’t, naturally. “Y’know—you could just tell her how you feel,” Oda repeats, seeing the way Ango is shaking his head frantically but he continues anyway. “Telling her would save you from doing this once a week.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dazai says icily, taking a tone that he rarely uses with Oda as he pushes himself off of the barstool and turns to leave. “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m heading out for the night.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for either one of them to say goodbye as he all but storms out of the bar. Oda sighs, taking a sip of his own drink.

“That could have gone better.”

Ango slaps the back of his head hard.

“I can’t stand you sometimes.”

“Alright, it’s time.”

You watch the live CCTV cameras from the sleek black car you and Chuuya are huddled in. Your partner, Itou, sits in the front seat, rubbing his temples as he spares you guys a short look. You raise your eyebrows at him but he only shakes his head.

“I don’t know what goes through your head sometimes,” he tells you, tired. “I want no part in this beyond this right here.”

“You’re no fun,” you say, squinting at him, “and we still need you to get the footage from the headquarters.”

Itou sighs so heavily that you think he might be trying to expel his lungs from his body. He glares at you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing beyond that. You’re insane for this. You’re going to get us all thrown in the torture chambers.”

“Relax, don’t be so serious. It makes you ugly. You’ll be fine,” you complain, focusing back down on Chuuya’s laptop, straightening as Dazai finally comes into view on the screen. 

You and Chuuya exchange an excited look with one another, a smile twitching onto your lips as you wait for the scene to unfold. You pointedly ignore the noise Itou makes when he notices how thrilled the two of you are at the prospect of kidnapping Dazai—but Itou doesn’t get it, he doesn’t know Dazai. Dazai will love this, and he’ll love it even more when you get your hands on the footage of Mori’s and Kouyou’s reactions to the kidnapping.

You’ve got your subordinates disguised impeccably as members of a low-rung gang that’s been trying to make moves into the northern wards of Yokohama. You had a meeting with them a few days ago to determine whether they’d be worth absorbing or if Mori should just send Dazai and Chuuya to deal with them. You decided on the latter, and the two of them are supposed to go in and exterminate them next weekend.

You figured they would be the perfect cover to pose as Dazai’s “kidnappers.” They’ve been aggressive and violent in Port Mafia territory, making increasingly larger steps into the Naka Ward. You were honestly curious to see how far they’ll try to go, but you doubt Mori will let it get any farther than he has already anyway, so you thought you might as well get some use out of them to stage a realistic-looking kidnapping.

You think Mori will probably assume this was intentional at first when he gets the report. He’ll call you and Chuuya, the two of you will act bitter and angry as if you’re not on speaking terms with Dazai currently—which, you suppose it’s for the best that he stormed away from the two of you that day in headquarters, because it’ll make it seem legit—you’ll hang up and tell him that you’re busy for the night, tell him not to bother you again. 

When Mori realizes that neither you or Chuuya know what’s going on, he’ll start to get suspicious. He’ll seek out the tapes and see Dazai drunk and lost in thought wandering home, see the way he genuinely struggles against his “captors” before being knocked out—none of the casual arrogance he usually has when getting himself captured by the enemy—and then? Then, you don’t know how Mori will react. You assume that he’ll call you and Chuuya again, get the two of you on it, but by that point, your phones will be off.

You’re giddy as you, again, focus back on the screen, watching as Dazai meanders down the street. His movements are slow and unsteady, and your giddiness fades when you see the downcast expression on his face. It’s hard to tell from the footage, but he’s clearly bothered about something. You wonder if he’s that pissed about what happened earlier, or if something else happened with his other friends—he’s usually at Bar Lupin for at least another two hours.

“Okay,” Chuuya says into his earpiece. “Begin stage one of the operation.”

“He looks kind of upset, doesn’t he?” you murmur when Chuuya takes his fingers off the button on the earpiece.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

You ignore the curious, knowing look that Itou gives you through the rearview mirror and instead tunnel your vision onto the laptop screen… although you find you don’t really want to look at that either. You grimace as your subordinates finally make their move—and it’s testament to how lost in his own thoughts he is because Dazai hardly notices what’s happening until they’re on him.

He goes for his gun instantly, but your subordinate—Kirishima, you learned his name was—is quick to disarm him, knocking the gun out of his hands and reaching for his arm. Dazai is still swift on his feet, nimble even with a dubious amount of alcohol in him. He’s able to worm out of Kirishima’s grip, darting backward. The expression on his face is lethal, gaze cold as he tries to assess his situation, and you watch as the realization that he might be in trouble finally hits.

Just as Kirishima is about to motion for two of the others to go for him again. Dazai slips his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Fuck!” Chuuya spits. “If he calls the Boss-”

But Dazai evidently did not call the Boss, which would have been the smartest decision on his part considering Mori would have gotten one of Verlaine’s special ops units to him within a max of three minutes, because after a second, your phone starts ringing.

Oh.

You stare at it, heart lodged in your throat, unsure of what to do.

“Shit,” Chuuya says, just as caught off guard. “I didn’t think he’d call you. You can’t pick up.”

You shoot Chuuya an accusatory look. “I have to pick up,” you hiss. “He called me when he actually thought he was in trouble. I can’t just ignore him, that’s fucked up.”

“We staged the kidnapping, it’s already fucked up,” Chuuya snaps right back, “and he can read your ass like a book. If you pick up, that bastard will figure out it’s us.”

“Chuuya,” you bristle, ready to ignore him and reach for your phone but he’s quicker than you, arm darting forward to grab your phone before throwing it out the window. You stare at him horrified, “Chuuya!”

You think you might throw up when you watch Dazai take one last glance at his phone before an unreadable expression crosses his face. He elbows one of them hard in the gut to get away, but Kirishima is on him with the sedative before he can make a run for it. Dazai grimaces when he feels the pinprick in his neck, and you finally look away when he slumps over onto the ground.

“Don’t start feeling bad now,” Chuuya says, glaring at you. “What did you think would happen?” 

“I don’t feel bad,” you lie, and when Chuuya gives you a doubtful look, you sigh and say, “He just looked so…”

Human. 

He looked surprised, uncertain—it’s rare for Dazai Osamu to be caught off guard by anything. You think in the year or so that you’ve known him, you’ve only ever seen him genuinely thrown off like this once, and it was when the Colonel’s operation against the Bishop’s Staff went haywire during the Dragon’s Head Conflict and you got caught in the crossfire, captured by the enemy.

You’ve always been of the belief that Dazai is one of the most human people you’ve ever met. You’ve fought people over it, you’ve fought him over it. The issue is that he’s also ridiculously intelligent, likes to portray himself as inhuman, be it to intimidate his subordinates or enemies or to fulfill whatever fucked up image he has of himself, you don’t know, but he’s good at it. It’s only when he’s put into situations like this, where he’s got no shot of keeping up his mask, surprised and trying to push away the rising panic when he realizes that there’s no way to think, talk or fight his way out of a situation, that you really see his humanity. It’s stark compared to his usual demeanor, almost palpable.

You sit there simmering in your own thoughts until Kirishima knocks hard on the window to the car. Dazai looks small in his arms—he’s tall, but thin and lanky because he doesn’t eat properly no matter how much Chuuya belittles him for it and you try to get him to eat. His frame is small, and it’s especially apparent without his coat to create the illusion of a larger stature, when his face is lax, visible eye slid shut as he lays limp and unconscious in his arms.

You push open the door and Kirishima bends down to shuffle Dazai into the car with you. His body slumps against you, head falling onto your shoulder and you push your lip out a bit as you reach up to brush his hair out of his face.

“The sedatives?” Chuuya asks, leaning around you to focus on Kirishima.

Kirishima lifts the empty syringe, glancing at Chuuya before focusing on you. “Are we free to go, hime?”

You scowl at the nickname but you nod, more focused on shifting Dazai into a comfortable position. “Go get drunk or go to your families, I don’t care. Don’t come back to headquarters ‘til Monday, but be there early, we’ve got a mission.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kirishima replies, inclining his head to you before shutting the car door and leaving.

As soon as the door shuts, you sigh and let Dazai’s body fall over, head resting in your lap. He looks so completely at peace that you almost forget that it’s because he’s been drugged. He never sleeps well, even now that he’s staying at your place—you hear him wandering around at night, restless, and the few nights he does sleep, he seems to be plagued with nightmares. You rest your hand on his hair and absently brush your fingers through his damp locks before turning to look at Chuuya, who’s watching you with an expression nothing short of judgmental.

“What?” you demand.

“Nothing.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “How long do you think the sedative will last?” 

“It’s a pretty high dosage,” you say with a frown, looking down at Dazai. “But Dazai’s got some mutant metabolism. Remember when he walked off a whole ass horse tranquilizer during Dragon’s Head. I give it like four hours max.”

“We need to get moving then,” Chuuya sighs, and you nod.

You lean over the center console and give Itou a sweet smile, careful to not jostle Dazai around too much.

“I’ll drive you there, but then I’m gone,” Itou sighs, giving you one last warning look before he puts the car in drive. “Don’t involve me in this any further.”

“Thank you, Itou,” you coo, sharing one last look with Chuuya before letting out a sigh and turning your attention back down to Dazai, gaze lingering and a soft smile on your face.

Chuuya makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat.

You ignore it.

The beach house the two of you have usurped for the weekend is nicer than you could’ve imagined. You don’t know how Itou found it for the two of you, maybe a friend of his—you’ve found that he has friends everywhere, it’s been quite handy for when you have to deal with politics—or maybe he killed someone for it, you really can’t be sure with him. It’s a neat little place south of Higashikoiso, a little over an hour out of Yokohama—the house is near a cliff overlooking the sea, with an easy path down toward the beach.

There are only three bedrooms though, which is unfortunate considering you and Chuuya plan to coerce Dazai’s other friends into showing up. You might not be the fondest of them for petty reasons, but you think Dazai would like that, so you’ll bite your tongue and suffer through it. Either way, three or four people are going to have to share rooms depending on the set up and you’re fully intent on not being one of them; you already have your argument that you’re the only girl in the house and you think it will be solid enough, unless Dazai decides to be stubborn. 

“This is kind of fucked up,” you note while setting the scene.

Dazai is still unconscious, it’s only been an hour and a half so you should have some time before he wakes up, but you want to get this done as quickly as possible, because you don’t want him to wake up while you and Chuuya are halfway finished to setting up the room to make it look like a ransom scene.

“This is definitely fucked up,” you correct, but you’re smiling as you finish up typing the ropes around Dazai’s wrists, sitting him up in a rickety wooden chair.

You and Chuuya had dragged him down to the basement—Itou had luckily had some interrogation tools in the trunk of his car, and was not inclined to ask any questions when you asked for them, passing them over to you with the most concerned expression you’d ever seen on the nineteen-year-old’s face.

The basement looks like any average torture chamber—stone walls, damp and dingy, so it’s easy for you and Chuuya to transform it into an acceptable backdrop for your picture. You adjust Dazai in the seat again, fingers ghosting over his neck from where his head is falling forward, hoping he’s not too uncomfortable.

“This is your idea,” Chuuya shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a frown as he examines the scene. “He’s not roughed up enough. We’ve gotta do something, did you bring makeup with you?”

“No,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck before an idea pops in your head.

You slink over to Chuuya and grab the knife that he carries at his side, ignoring the perturbed look on his face as he instantly takes a step away. Making your way back over to Dazai, you grimace as you cut the palm of your hand, smearing some blood on Dazai’s face and shirt to make it seem as if he’s been roughed up. You readjust the ropes, tighten them a little more and make sure some of your blood drips down onto the floor above where Dazai’s face is hanging before you take a step back to admire your handiwork before turning to your accomplice.

“... Do you have the burner phone?” you ask Chuuya, wrapping your hand with cloth, figuring you’ll just bandage it up later. 

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Take the picture,” you tell him, stepping out of the way to hover over his shoulder, watching as Chuuya squints his eyes and tries to angle it properly so Dazai looks as in bad shape as possible. 

When he’s finally satisfied, he looks to you. Your lips curve up, “I’ll read off the number of that friend of his, you type it in. This’ll get them here for sure.”

As you do that, Chuuya starts snickering, clearly as entertained by this whole situation as you are. “You’re fucking psychotic for this, y’know?” he says, typing out the message to be attached with the image before pressing send and tossing the phone away.

“You helped me,” you accuse, but you're grinning, giddy again as you grab a towel to wipe the blood off of Dazai, pulling off the ropes and forcing Chuuya to help him back to the couch where he can be comfortable.

“Yeah, but it was your idea, you crazy bitch,” Chuuya tells you again with another snort. “What do we do now?”

“Wait.”

Everything happens at once.

Sakaguchi Ango and Oda Sakunosuke get to the beach house much sooner than you thought they would, and Dazai starts stirring an hour earlier than you expected—mutant metabolism, you think again. Luckily, it all happens at around the same time, so you get to see all of their reactions at once.

Neither Sakaguchi nor Oda have made a move into the house, probably trying to figure out the best course of action. Dazai still hasn’t woken up, curled up on the couch while you and Chuuya play cards at the table in front of him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. You’re winning, of course, and Chuuya is becoming increasingly more frustrated from the way he keeps slamming his cards down onto the coffee table.

“They’re about to come in,” Chuuya says, giving you a withering look as tosses his cards across the table—another losing hand. You give him a smug smile and Chuuya bares his teeth at you. “Come here.”

You sigh as you shuffle over around the table so that he can put his hand on your shoulder, ready to activate the Tainted Sorrow in case Sakaguchi and Oda come in guns blazing. On the couch, Dazai starts to shift, a low groan escaping his lips, and your eyes draw back to him, focusing on his face and the way his brows are furrowed and his lips are turned down.

“Here they are,” Chuuya hums, lips quirking up into a sharp smile. “Ready?”

“Yup,” you agree, popping the ‘p’ as you lean back on your hands and stare at the door. “How long do you think it’ll take them to actually open the door?”

“I give it five more seconds,” Chuuya snorts, and you shiver when you feel the familiar sensation of the Tainted Sorrow spreading across your body, an impenetrable barrier to protect you from whatever may come your way.

Just as Chuuya predicts, five seconds later, the front door is kicked open. You frown, hoping that they didn’t break it off of the hinges, because you don't want to hear Itou bitching about it later on. Oda Sakunosuke comes in first, gun steady and finger on the trigger, but the man is cautious and tilts his head to the side when his eyes fall upon you and Chuuya.

“What is it?” Sakaguchi asks from behind the other man, taking a step into the beach house to follow Oda’s gaze to you and Chuuya. “I-what?”

“Sakaguchi,” you say, lifting your hand to wag your fingers; maybe you’re a bit petty when you don’t acknowledge Oda. “Long time no see. I was grateful for your help when dealing with Nishiki and his cronies.”

“I, ah, hime-” You sigh at the moniker, eyes fluttering shut. “What is… going on? We got a picture and a…”

Sakaguchi trails off when he sees Dazai stirring on the couch, and you turn your attention toward him. You watch as he finally lifts his arm to rub his eyes, sluggish and slow. After a split second passes, you notice him stiffen, as if remembering what happened, and his eyes shoot open, cold and sharp.

You smile. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you coo. “Took you long enough.”

The icy mask slips away into genuine confusion, his brows furrow and his lips part. Next to you, Chuuya snorts, “Now, that’s a fucking sight. I almost want to take a picture.”

“What…” Dazai begins, then notices Oda and Sakaguchi still standing near the front door, blinking a few times. “What is going on?”

You’re sure that must’ve been the most painful question for Dazai Osamu to ask—admitting he has no idea what’s happening. Chuuya snickers and Dazai shoots him a contemptuous look, diluted by the fact that he still looks half out of it from the sedative.

“Yes,” Sakaguchi asks dryly, “what is going on?”

You smile proudly and then say, “We kidnapped you. Seemed pretty realistic, didn’t it? Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

Dazai blinks, you can see him trying to force his brain to start moving faster so he can put together the puzzle pieces you’ve handed him. His gaze calculating and lips tight. “You… set up the kidnapping?”

Oda then says: “See. I told you they were planning something.”

“Planning a kidnapping,” Sakaguchi sighs, tired. “Did you guess that too, Oda?”

“Well, no.”

Hardly listening to Oda and Sakaguchi’s bickering in the background, you keep your attention on Dazai, who’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You waver for a second, wondering if he’s mad at the two of you—you’d figured it could be an issue, that he might be put off by being kept in the dark about this. He really does hate not knowing things. 

“Why?” Dazai asks quietly, and you note how Oda and Sakaguchi share a look with one another before quieting down, waiting for your response.

“I’m glad you asked!” you say brightly. “It’s your birthday present!” 

You relish in the way the room goes quiet. Dazai’s dark eye widens, taken off guard for the second time in a matter of a few minutes. You’re even more gleeful when you see how Oda’s expression shifts into one of surprise, how Sakaguchi draws back, stunned. At least your fears of Oda and Sakaguchi knowing more about Dazai than you go unfounded.

“Yeah, shitty Dazai, say thank you,” Chuuya goads, a smug smile on his lips.

Dazai doesn’t respond, staring at the two of you with yet another indecipherable look, an odd shine to his dark eye. You feel a bit exposed under his stare, wondering what he could be thinking.

“How did you know?” Dazai finally asks, and oh, you realize that’s not the question he’s asking. Dazai knows that there’s only one way the two of you figured out his birthday—his file in Mori’s office. What he wants to know is which of you got hands on it.

“It was a grand plot,” you say, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you look up at him. “Chuuya kept Mori distracted while I ransacked his office looking for your file… part of your gift is going to be the recording of Chuuya trying to distract him. It was quite funny.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya demands, whirling on you. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You ignore Chuuya, keeping your gaze trained on Dazai instead, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Is he angry at you? Upset? It’s impossible to tell from the heavy gaze he has laid on you, thousands of conflicting emotions swirling behind the black of his eye. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, chewing the inside of your cheek as you wait—god, only one person evokes this type of nervousness in you and you swear he enjoys it.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally lights up, flinging his arms out to his side, a wide, borderline facetious smile painting his face as he says, “So, I get an entire day to order you guys around to do my bidding.”

“Hey!” Chuuya shouts, equally incensed by Dazai’s words as he is by yours, head snapping to look at him. “That’s not the fucking gift, bastard.”

“What’s the plan then?” Oda asks curiously, and then adds, “... I’m glad you brought us here… as unconventional as the method may have been.”

You notice Dazai gives Oda and then you a curious look, but before he can ask, Chuuya is leaping to his feet, talking quickly as he waves his hands around, making subtle digs to get a rise out of Dazai, but Dazai is more focused on you.

You push yourself to your own feet, trying to ignore Dazai’s lidded stare and focus on what Chuuya is saying but it’s hard, especially when you see Dazai standing from the corner of your eye. He’s still a bit unsteady, movement slow and sluggish, and you’re sure that’s the excuse he has for when he meanders a few steps over to you, dropping his chin on your shoulder. You don’t dare to turn your face to the side to look at him, his lips brush your ear as he murmurs:

“Talk later?”

“... ‘course.”

Luckily, later doesn’t come for a long while. Chuuya was insistent on going out to the beach—you think he was more eager to see Dazai wear the ugly Hawaiian shirt that the two of you had brought along for him more than anything else, but he quickly found interest in the large waves coming in from the sea, running back to the beach house to seek out the boards that you’d found in the basement.

Dazai doesn’t go in the water, but you think he’s having a good time considering there’s a shine in his eyes that’s rarely there. Right now, he’s sitting in the sand in front of Oda and Sakaguchi; the former listening to Dazai ramble on about whatever he’s talking about, the latter tapping away on his computer and occasionally nodding along.

You spend most of your time watching Chuuya cheat at surfing, using his ability to keep him on top of the surfboard as he seeks out the biggest waves. You’re standing in the water yourself, no further than knee-deep because you don’t want to get your clothes and hair wet. You’re kind of annoyed that Dazai’s been spending all of his time with Oda and Sakaguchi when you and Chuuya were the ones who did all of the work, and again, you can’t help but wonder if he might be mad at you. He didn’t seem to be on the walk down to the beach but you can honestly never know with him.

You drag your gaze from where Chuuya is hooting and hollering as he catches another big wave, rolling your eyes when you see the red emanating around his feet and the surfboard, so you can look back at Dazai. He’s stopped talking, listening to whatever Oda is saying instead as he stares at you with a contemplative expression. You feel distinctly seen beneath his stare, lost as to what he might be thinking. He doesn’t even notice that you caught him looking, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

You shake your head when you hear Chuuya coming toward you again, turning your attention back onto him.

“Did you see that one?” Chuuya demands, exhilarated, board tucked under his arm as he brushes his hair out of his face. “Did you?”

“I did,” you say dryly. “It would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t been cheating with the Tainted Sorrow.”

Chuuya looks scorned. “I don’t see you getting out there to try,” he scowls, lifting his chin. “You’re more preoccupied with staring longingly at shitty Dazai.”

Your face heats up, you kick the water at him and make sure it gets in his face. “I am not,” you hiss. “Don’t be annoying, Chuuya.”

“I give it another ten seconds before you look back at him again,” Chuuya croons, a wide smile on his face that you have half a mind to slap right off.

To make it worse, you do feel an itch to look back at him now. Your eye twitches as you force yourself to keep looking forward at Chuuya just to make a point, but an odd feeling starts to stir in your gut when you see the way Chuuya’s gaze keeps darting behind you, looking increasingly more pleased with himself.

Finally, you give him an accusatory look before turning your head over your shoulder sharply to where Dazai had been with Oda and Sakaguchi only to find-

That he’s not there?

You hardly have enough time to register what you’re looking at before you see a rush of movement from the corner of your eye.

No-

All you hear is Chuuya’s wild laughter and the sound of the ocean waves reverberating through your skull as Dazai tackles you back into the water hard. The water cushions your fall as your back finally hits the sand. You lift your hand to press your palm against Dazai’s face, pushing him away from you, lungs burning and decidedly soaked as you push yourself out of the water, gasping for air.

“Dazai!” you shout, throwing yourself at him with every intent to throttle him. 

Dazai tries to dodge, but is too busy wheezing over laughter to actually do so. He lets out a dramatic cry when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and successfully knock him into the water face down. He flails dramatically, arms and legs kicking as you hold him down beneath the water.

When you finally drag him back up above the surface, he inhales a lungful of air before giving you an indignant look. “You can’t do that,” Dazai shouts, pointing at you. “It’s my birthday.”

“I’ll do it again,” you shout right back, hair sticking in your eyes and clothes clinging to your skin from the seawater. “I wanted to go into town after this.”

Dazai looks just as messy—the cheap Hawaiian shirt you and Chuuya had got him is drenched, and the colors are bleeding into his bandages, making the previously pristine whites become a colorful swirl of oranges, blues and pinks. He looks like a shitty attempt at a watercolor painting. The bandages around his eye look especially uncomfortable from the way his visible eye keeps twitching and immediately your anger fizzles away into amusement.

You share a look with Chuuya that Dazai instantly catches, looking suspicious and alarmed.

“Chuuya, go get the camera.”

Dazai doesn’t even wait for another word. He instantly turns on his heel to bolt back to the beach house, but you’re chasing after him in an instant.

“Chuuya, go!” you yell again as you lunge forward, fingers curling around Dazai’s ankles to make him faceplant back into the water.

You scramble forward to straddle his waist to keep him in place but he worms out of your hold, trying to make another break for it but fails because you’re still clinging to his leg, dragging him back down with you. Distantly, you think you should’ve gone for the camera while Chuuya kept Dazai in place.

“Chuuya’s right,” you spit out. The two of you are out of the water now, you can feel the sand in your shirt and grating against your skin as you roll around with him trying to keep him still. “You really are like a slimy, slippery fish.”

“You can’t do this,” Dazai screeches. “It’s my birthday. It’s my birthday!”

“I got it!” Chuuya shouts from over by the chairs, racing back over to the two of you. 

“Took you long enough,” you yell right back at him, realizing that you’re going to have to sacrifice your own dignity to get Dazai in this picture, otherwise he’s going to try to run away again. 

Chuuya can hardly hold the camera straight through his snorting, and you’re sure you probably look equally as embarrassing as Dazai. There’s sand on your face, in your mouth, in your hair, in places where sand definitely shouldn’t be, but at least you don’t look like a kaleidoscope. Dazai lets out a pitiful noise when he realizes there’s no escape, trapped between your arms. He tries to hide his face in your neck, probably for plausible deniability that it’s an imposter trying to make him look bad, rather than it actually being him himself.

“Say cheese, mackerel,” Chuuya mocks.

“Fuck you,” Dazai complains.

But you can feel the smile twitching on his lips against your skin.

Oda and Sakaguchi set up a fire later that night. 

Well, by Oda and Sakaguchi, you mean Oda while Sakaguchi sat there and played dictator, telling him how to make a campfire that Oda clearly already knew how to make from the way he seemed to be hardly listening to the man.

Dazai and Chuuya are off trying to figure out how to use sparklers, which you think is a bad idea. You think the two are more likely to set each other on fire than actually use them properly, which is why you’re staying far away, tapping away on your phone near the campfire, relaxing under the sea breeze.

Itou: everything going ok?

You almost roll your eyes before responding with.

You: Yes. Why?

Itou: just curious :p

You: Could’ve stayed if you were curious. We offered.

Itou: yeah, maybe if u wanted to find me dead in a ditch. ur boy hates my guts.

You’re grateful that no one is around to see how you let out an embarrassed puff of air at how Itou refers to Dazai, instantly clicking out of his messages to see what other messages you have. Before you can, you feel a presence hovering above you and look up, raising your eyebrows.

Oda Sakunosuke stands next to you, studying you curiously, and you look to the side and then back toward him, unsure of what he wants.

“Yes?” you ask slowly. Sakaguchi is still sitting closer to the house, scowling as he bats away bugs.

“This is nice. What you did for Dazai,” Oda says simply. “I haven’t seen him this happy in… well, ever.”

A bit embarrassed, you shrug. “It’s whatever,” you say awkwardly. “Just happy it all worked out.”

“I don’t think Dazai’s ever had someone do something like this for him before,” Oda admits. He’s not looking at you anymore, fond gaze trained behind you to where you can hear Dazai and Chuuya arguing about how to use the sparklers. “He never told Ango or I his birthday… or anything personal about himself, really. I’m grateful that you brought us along.”

You wish you could sink into the ground and die, knowing that if it was up to you, you never would have invited either of them but forced yourself to for Dazai’s sake. Again, you shrug, and say, “Was for Dazai. Thought he would like it.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyway,” Oda says dismissively, looking back down at you. “You should stop by the curry place where I take Dazai every once and a while. The kids I brought in stay there, Sakura is the only girl, I’m sure she’d like having another girl around to talk to.”

You blanch. “I don’t-uh-I don’t know if that would be the best idea, I’m not exactly… a good influence for kids.”

Oda shrugs. “Maybe not conventionally, but you’re tough. Work ten times as hard as any of the others in the upper ranks of the Mafia to keep your position. It’s impressive. If Sakura was even half as strong as you are when she grows up, I’d be proud of her.”

Your lips part to speak but no words leave them. You think, maybe, that this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged this. Your position has never been as secure as anyone else’s—you think maybe that it’s part of the reason why Mori is so insistent on people using that stupid fucking title, as much as you hate it.

Your own subordinates respect you, the rest of the upper echelon who know of your contributions do, but everyone else? Hierarchy is absolute and the Boss’s orders are paramount, but when subordinates see a chance to push themselves higher up the ladder, it’s like sharks with blood in the water. Without a powerful ability like Chuuya’s, or a mind and presence like Dazai’s, as a girl, you’re on the lowest rung, the first one they’re circling to try to get ahead.

You prevent gang wars, keep the government off the Mafia’s ass, but that’s all behind the scenes—none of the lower ranked mafiosos see any of that. They see Dazai and Chuuya bringing down entire organizations overnight. Ace bringing in billions of yen. Kouyou’s perfect record of assassinations. Hirotsu leading the Black Lizards. Akutagawa and his ability. All they ever seen in you is-

All they see in you is a seventeen-year-old girl who happens to be favored by the Boss.

Although you don’t necessarily care for Oda’s presence, even if only for petty reasons, you do appreciate his words. Your shoulders slump and you want to reply, say thank you at the very least, but nothing comes out. You think he notices, and being the infuriatingly kind person he is, he gives you an out. Oda Sakunosuke pats your head like you’re a dog. You give him a side-eye and cringe away from his hand, but he’s unperturbed. 

“I’m glad he has you,” Oda tells you, before wandering back over to Ango, leaving you there flustered and caught off guard.

Your gaze draws back to where Dazai has finally got his sparkler working, and for a second, you’re entranced. You can hardly drag your eyes from the bright gleam and soft smile on Dazai’s lips as he eyes follow the bright pink and gold sparks flying around as he waves the sparkler around in front of him. It’s childish, almost, innocent in a way that Dazai Osamu never gets to act.

You have to force yourself to look away from him, turning your attention back to your phone to go back to what you were doing before Oda interrupted you.

Several texts from Kouyou and Mori demanding you to pick up your phone, one concerned one from Hirotsu—you’ll have to apologize to him later—and several from an unknown number that you don’t recognize. Akutagawa? Dazai’s subordinate? You’re going to have to have a serious talk with your subordinates later about giving out your number. You click back to your message thread with Itou, pointedly ignoring the last message as you type.

You: How the hell did Akutagawa Ryuunosuke get my number?

Itou: pretty sure he threatened a couple of our subordinates, wounded one of them. i have to deal with it tomorrow. have dazai train his dog before letting him wander around unleashed.

You roll your eyes and then tilt your head back to shout over your shoulder, “Dazai, train your fucking subordinates properly.”

The bickering from where Dazai and Chuuya were arguing behind you halts, and you hear the two of them approach you.

“What happened?” Chuuya asks curiously, peeking over your shoulder at your phone. You promptly close it before he can catch sight of the other message that Itou had sent about Dazai.

Dazai comes to hover next to you, waiting for you to explain, and you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “Akutagawa injured one of my men and threatened others trying to get my number when he heard you were missing. Get him under control.”

Dazai’s visible eye twitches. “Untrained mutt,” he spits out. “I’ll deal with him.”

You share a short look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye, wondering if you’d just condemned Akutagawa to Dazai’s violent wrath, but you’re distracted when your phone buzzes again.

Itou: check ur email.

You straighten in your seat, immediately flicking out of your messages app to your email to find one from Itou with a video file attached.

“No way,” you breathe out, excited, not having expected Itou to get his hands on it so quickly. You turn to look at Dazai, a wide smile on your face; you miss the way the irritation on his instantly fades, visible eye widening and lips parting at the sight of your smile. You also miss, in your excitement, Chuuya’s grunt of disgust. “Dazai, you wanna see your real present?”

Curious, Dazai peers over your shoulder to see the email you got. “What is that?” 

“Watch and see,” you croon, clicking on the video to show the surveillance tape from headquarters.

Instantly, Dazai seems to realize what it is, eye lighting up. “No way,” he says, half sitting on top of you in your beach chair, ignoring your irritated hiss.

“Get your bony ass off of me, Dazai,” you snap at him, but Dazai ignores you, settling down as he snatches your phone to watch the video. 

Chuuya joins him, crowding in on your other side to lean over his shoulder to watch the video. Rolling your eyes, and unable to see the video on your phone, you instead lean back into the chair and watch their reactions to it instead.

Chuuya looks amused, a sharp grin on his face as his eyes remain pinned on the video, and Dazai looks delighted, he cackles and shifts to lean forward, making you grimace when he ends up digging more into your thigh to push himself up.

“Look at his face,” Dazai screeches. “He really thinks it was real. Ane-san looks like she’s going to have an aneurysm.”

Chuuya looks back at you, smiling but there’s a hesitant look in his eyes. “We’re going to be in so much trouble when we get back,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Yeah, you agree silently, more focused on the bright shine in Dazai’s eyes and the wide, genuine smile on his lips. He’s so giddy that he’s almost vibrating in your lap, and when he finally looks back at you, he looks at you as if you’ve given him the world. Worth it, though.

Despite ardently arguing why you should be the one who doesn’t have to share a room and succeeding—forcing Oda and Sakaguchi (who didn’t seem to mind) and Chuuya and Dazai (much to their distress) to share a room instead—you find that you can’t sleep at night anyway. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to wander out of the house, making your way to the path leading up to the clifftop—everyone called an early night, the excitement of the day, and the lack of sleep, leaving everyone exhausted before the clock hit nine-thirty.

The seabreeze is cool against your skin, the moonlight’s illumination the only guide you have as you make your way up to the cliff’s edge. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your sweats as you drag your feet against the dirt path.

You don’t notice someone sitting up there at the edge until they turn their head to the side to look at you, startled by your arrival.

“Dazai,” you say quietly, standing there awkwardly for a moment. You haven’t spoken to him alone yet, you’d meant to earlier but then Chuuya got his hands on wine before bed and that plan went out the window.

Dazai sighs whimsically when he catches sight of you. “So, hime forces me to share a room with the slug only to not even use her own room. She’s so greedy,” he whines, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, making your way over to sit with him, legs dangling off the edge, swinging absently. Your thigh is pressed against the side of his, feet occasionally bumping into one another, when you rest your hands against the ground to lean back on them, your thumb brushes his. “You wanted to talk.”

Dazai lets out an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, and you watch as his gaze turns down to his lap, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s pretty beneath the glow of the moonlight, peaceful in a way you hardly ever see him. His expression is free of the numerous masks he wears to protect himself, eyes dark but warm and full of various emotions as he chooses his words carefully.

“Hime read my file,” Dazai finally says, voice soft, almost hesitant. You catch the way his jaw tightens and untightens, the corner of his lips tightening and quivering; a subtle tell to his nerves, one that most people wouldn’t catch, but you do.

“I did,” you agree. Your own heart races in your chest as you wait for his reaction; you don’t think that he’s angry, you think you’d be able to tell if he were angry by now, but you can’t help the anxiety plaguing you.

“So, you saw,” Dazai hums, but there’s a bit of a wobble to his tone. He pointedly doesn’t look at you now, staring ahead out toward the sky and distant sea. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No. I figure you’ll tell me if you want. If not, it’s okay.”

It’s decidedly not okay, but you don’t want to pressure Dazai into telling you. You want Dazai to open up to you, but you don’t want to force him to, so you force yourself to be content with the fact that he’s at least acknowledging this, instead of pretending it didn’t happen.

“I can’t,” Dazai says. 

His throat bobs beneath his bandages, dark eye uncertain as he stares down to the turbulent sea. You think a storm must be coming, the waves have become rocky, whitecaps staining the horizon, crashing into the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Dazai shifts, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“By choice?” you ask after a few moments. “Or is someone—” Mori “—forcing you to?”

“... Both,” Dazai responds after a few moments. “I…”

Dazai doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say, voice wavering. After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, he continues.

“I don’t have good memories associated with that name,” Dazai finally says, and you don’t dare to speak, hardly even dare to breathe because you don’t want to ruin whatever spurred this decision of his to crack himself open to you, afraid that if you make the wrong move, he’ll withdraw again. “... Sometimes, I miss it though.”

“That’s normal, I think,” you tell him after a moment, looking to the side to focus on him, watching the way his eyes lower at your words. “You have… better ones as… Osamu?” 

It’s your first time referring to Dazai by his first name, and from the way he inhales sharply, he recognizes it as well. There’s something distinctly vulnerable in his expression as he turns his face to you.

“I have you,” Dazai says quietly, and it’s so instant that it catches you off guard, lips parting. As if catching his own lapse in control, he blinks and then rushes to add, “And Odasaku. Ango. The slug.”

You smile a bit to yourself. “Yeah,” you agree. “You do.”

Dazai looks as if he wants to say something, his lips are parted and his gaze is uncertain. You give him a questioning look, wondering what could possibly be running through his head right now, but then he speaks.

“Shuji,” he says so softly that you barely hear him. “My name was Shuji.”

Your eyes shoot open at the admission, Dazai’s goes just as wide, as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. You open your mouth to say something but Dazai doesn’t even give you the chance to.

“You can’t use it ever, okay?” he says, voice tinged with a type of panic you’ve never heard in the boy before, dark eye filled with desperation. “Never. Not when we’re with people. Not when we’re alone. Not ever. You can’t.”

You don’t think Dazai has ever begged anyone for anything in his life, but he’s begging you now… a part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s for his sake, or yours.

“Can I say it once? Right now?” you ask quietly, swallowing thickly.

Dazai looks unsure and hesitant, but he finally nods. “Then you have to forget it, okay? You can’t ever let anybody know it. Nobody can ever know it. And nobody can know that you know, okay? No one, especially Mori.”

You don’t really like the sound of that, your gut tugging uncomfortably at the stress on Mori’s name, but you don’t want to press anymore than you have, so you agree.

With the winds howling around the cliffs to drown out your voice, and only Dazai and the stars to bear witness, you shift to face him. You reach up to cup Dazai’s cheek, fingers brushing against the bandages on the right side of his face, watching as he inhales sharply at your sudden touch. Before you can lose your nerve, you lean in to ghost your lips against his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, Shuji,” you whisper softly, pulling back to sit next to him. Your face is on fire, and Dazai doesn’t react beyond a shaky breath and his fists tightening in his lap.

Finally, instead of responding, he reaches out to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Your smile is soft, and you can feel Dazai’s fingers trembling, body uncharacteristically lax as he rests next to you.

Your free hand brushes a stray rock at your side and you turn to look at it curiously, noting the jagged edge and then getting an idea. Dazai frowns when you pull your hand from his and shift away, giving you a questioning look, but then you shift to your knees, grabbing the rock and etching your first initial into the flat rock that the two of you are sitting on. Dazai watches you carefully and when you hold it out to him, he hesitates before taking it from you.

He doesn’t do anything for a second, staring down at your initial with the jagged edge of the rock resting against the ground next to it. Finally, he takes in a steady breath before carving a ‘+ S’ right next to yours. You chew on the inside of your cheek and your eyes are a bit misty as your hand falls to trace the letters.

After a few moments, you let out another breath and settle down next to him again, a bit closer than you were before, thigh pressed firmly against his and shoulders brushing. You reach for his hand again, intertwining your fingers with his, looking up to the vast sky above.

Your lips part to speak, but the words catch in your throat, fingers tightening around his for the sparest second. He gives you a curious look and you don’t dare to look at him as you finally force the words from your lips.

“The moon… it’s pretty beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” you say quietly, throat tight as you stare up at the sky, the glittering stars and the full moon glowing above. 

You can feel Dazai’s gaze on you as he responds. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I think if I died tonight… I would die happy.”

Three years later on the early morning of June 19th, Dazai Osamu sits on the cliff’s edge in the same spot he did with you all of those years before, watching the sun break over the horizon. His fingers trace over the two engraved letters next to him, and not for the first time in the past two years he’s spent underground, he yearns. 

He yearns for you so bad that it makes his chest hurt, his stomach turns in on itself; he yearns so desperately that it’s hard for him to breathe without you, the thought of you weighing so heavily on his mind that he thinks the pressure of it might kill him. As he’s gotten closer to finally being able to leave the underground and join the Armed Detective Agency, he finds that he thinks more and more of you.

He wonders what you’re doing—if you’re thinking of him, if you hate him, if you’ve forgotten all about him. He can almost imagine you sitting here with him, shoulders brushing, thigh pressed to his, fingers intertwined.  He doesn’t know how long he’s spent sitting in that spot, fantasizing that you were there with him, longing for days with you and Chuuya and Odasaku and Ango that are long gone.

Before his thoughts can spiral any further, his phone rings—only one person would be calling him right about now, so he lets it get to the final ring before picking up.

“Fukuzawa-san is ready for you,” Ango says as soon as Dazai picks up the phone, waiting no time for pleasantries.. “Make your way over to the Armed Detective Agency when you can… Happy birthday, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, hanging up the phone and letting out a soft breath. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and his eyes linger on the engraved initials, worn with time but still clearly visible, for only a few seconds longer. He pushes himself up to his feet and walks back down toward the beach house with the thoughts of you still clouding his head.

Yeah, Dazai thinks a bit dryly, chest heavy and aching as he looks back at where the two of you once sat three years ago. Happy birthday.

fun facts!

the inspiration for this fic came from the summer vacation bungo mayoi cards with dazai, oda and ango LOLLLL

the inspiration for the "dazai osamu not being dazai's real name" comes from the fact that irl!dazai was a pen name—his real name was tsushima shuji.

i'm gonna drop some pm!reader universe lore here too. in the pm!reader universe, i decided to go with the popular theory that dazai was the previous boss's son/grandson, which is why his word held so much weight when he vouched for mori. when everything calmed down after the death of the previous boss and after most of the old regime of loyalists had been disposed of, mori had shuji change his name to dazai osamu, to shred any connection he might have had to the previously reigning mafia family, just in case more loyalists popped up. in the present pm!reader universe (from 16-22), only kouyou and hirotsu know who dazai really is.

[bookyeom]

to care for you — lc

pairing: dino x reader word count: 4.4k warnings: mention of blood and injuries, mention of fainting, swearing, hurt and comfort, kissing request prompt: Okay so tumblr ate my ask 😭 but this is in response to @darkypooo’s request for Dino + “do you want to kiss?” “Yeah.”

Author’s Note: Yes, this is a Spiderman AU — but you don’t need to know much other than the bare minimum about the Spiderman universe to understand the story :) It’s set in college instead of high school, though. I’m actually so, so proud of this one, and I hope you like it!

Thanks so much for all the support on my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I’m doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

He‘s exhausted. 

It’s an exhaustion that’s begun to seep deep into his bones lately, but it feels extra heavy tonight. After a not-so-brief brush-up with some bad guys, he’s hurting in places that he didn’t know existed — even after all of his years spent studying science. He can’t remember the last time he got this hurt — to the point where even breathing is hard. All he wants to do right now is give up. He’s not sure what good he’s doing out there, anyway.

He’s exhausted, and he’s hurting all over, and honestly? All he wants to do is see you. 

He feels like that a lot these days.

He knows he’s not supposed to want you like he does, to need you like he does — for so many reasons. First and foremost, because you’re one of his closest friends — his confidante (in everything not Spiderman related, anyway), his safe place. You’re his friend, and friends aren’t supposed to love each other the way he loves you. Besides, he’s Spiderman. He’s not supposed to need anyone at all. In this line of business, feelings are a weakness.

You, thankfully, have no clue about his alter ego… or his feelings.

Well, at least you didn’t know about the superhero part. Until now, when he drags himself into his room and you’re there, curled up in his bed. He thinks he must be hallucinating. He’s too out of it to really register it at first, but then your eyes meet his from where you’re sitting up against his headboard, duvet pulled up to your chin, and he’s frozen. You blink back at him in the dim light of his room, your face lit up solely by the lamp on his bedside table.

“Chan?”

Your voice is small — so quiet that he thinks without his heightened senses he wouldn’t have been able to hear it. He can’t think straight enough to really process that his mask is off — he must have dropped it somewhere between the living room and here. All he can register before he’s stumbled back and slumped into his desk chair, eyes screwed shut from all the pain, is that you don’t look nearly as scared as he thought you would. Then everything goes black.

There’s a warm pressure against his jaw and his cheeks. 

He slowly comes to as he registers the feeling, struggling to open his eyes and find the source of the sensation. He can hear a faint voice call his name, once, twice, and when his eyes finally manage to flutter open just a little, he’s met with your concerned gaze.

“Fuck. Hi,” you mumble, and he blinks. The pure worry in your voice helps to bring him back to earth a little bit more, and he tries desperately to clear his head. How long was he out?

“Why…” He tries to speak but fails, his voice weak and his throat hoarse. 

Why are you here? 

He sees you wince when he tries to move, to shift into a more comfortable position even though he knows nothing will be comfortable right now, and your head is suddenly shaking back and forth so fast that it almost gives him whiplash.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, and he dazedly wonders why you don’t sound mad. Or frustrated. Or anything but concerned, really. He’s confused, his mind swirling even more as he tries to understand why your hands are holding his face like that. Hadn’t he kept things a secret from you for far too long to warrant your concern? Don’t you hate him now?

“I don’t know what’s going on,” you say, and Chan fights the urge to try and speak again, to blurt out everything that he’s wanted to tell you since he met you. Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you hastily continue, “but you have to tell me how to help you, Chan.”

His eyes flutter shut once more at the sound of his name coming from your lips, and he feels your thumb brush against his jaw. 

“Chan,” you say again, and you sound more panicked this time, so he does his best to calm you down. 

“Off.”

You blink at him again as he finally speaks. You’re not sure what he means, and you’re desperate to know, because you can’t look at him in pain like this any longer without doing something to help.

“Off,” he repeats hoarsely, and your eyes widen as you hastily remove your hands from his face.

“Shit, sorry!” Your eyes frantically wander across his face, searching for any damage your fingers might have caused. “I don’t know where you’re hurting, I didn’t mean to—“

As you babble on, all he can do is shake his head minutely. That’s not what he meant. The last thing he wanted right now was for you to take your hands off of him. He manages to lift a hand to press gently against his side, where a dark stain has formed. He glances down at where the material is clinging to his skin before looking back up at you. 

“Oh!” You reply, realization dawning on your face. You try to hide the flush of your cheeks. “Can you stand up to move to the bed so I can help? If not, I can—“

Already, he’s attempting to move, desperate to make any of this easier for you. He wants to apologize, to say he’s sorry, but he doesn’t know exactly what for. For not telling you? For you having to see him like this? 

You help him stand, his arm reaching to rest on your shoulders as you do. You can tell he’s trying not to hurt you with his weight, and you almost laugh — how very Chan of him. You’re grateful that in the shock of survival mode, you’ve managed to avoid for now the way you know your heart is going to break when you register seeing soft, kind, selfless Chan beaten down like this. 

Cry tomorrow, is the message your brain is sending. Figure it out tomorrow. Right now, you need to help him.

“I’m strong,” you try to joke, though it’s a weak attempt, and Chan looks at you in confusion. “You can put your weight on me,” you elaborate quietly. He understands and gives you a sheepish smile, before doing as told, though you know he doesn’t want to. 

The two of you maneuver the few steps to the edge of his bed. Chan hisses involuntarily at the pain as he sits down, and you whisper soft apologies, though he has no idea why. Once he’s down, you immediately get to work, reaching behind him to find the zipper at the top of his suit. You manage to get it down as smoothly as possible, your eyes falling to where Chan is still clutching at his side.

“This part is going to hurt like a bitch,” you tell him softly.

“That’s okay,” he says. “It always does.”

You freeze for a moment from where you were about to begin to slide the suit off of his shoulders, but Chan doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said. You feel a sharp pain in your chest as his words replay, and you blink back tears, taking a moment to steel yourself. 

It always hurts.

You don’t respond, your fingers beginning to move again, and you’re surprised that they’re not shaking. Chan shivers when your fingers brush against his skin as you begin to slide the suit over his arms and off. You ease him out of the material on his uninjured side first, before coming around to the front of him and crouching down. You meet his eyes, his brown ones clouded over with pain, and your fingers gently reach to rest on top of his hand that’s still clutching his side. You give it a squeeze and he nods in understanding, closing his eyes tight, and you help him remove his fingers from the wound. You stand back up, and begin to pull the rest of the suit down his side and to his waist. Chan barely lets out so much as a whimper when you peel the rest of the material off of him. 

His lack of reaction is not what surprises you the most, though. The biggest surprise comes when you reach the spot on his side where you know a sickening amount of blood should be, and you find that it’s all dried — and that the wound has already begun to heal over. 

Huh?

Your brain can’t compute it. You glance up at him in complete confusion, but his head is hung low, and your heart breaks enough to distract you from all of the questions you want to ask. You force yourself to push the confusing mess of thoughts away until later. You can’t think about any of that right now. You can’t. 

“Chan?” Is what you say instead, knowing that you need to keep him awake enough to help him clean up, long enough to know he’s alright. Your hands are on his knees as you kneel between his legs and peer up at him. You have to stop yourself from reaching out to trace the newly-forming scars on his chest and arms, wanting nothing more than to kiss each mark and its associated pain away. You desperately want to know what happened, who hurt him like this, but you’re not sure you can handle it. You briefly register the older, faded scars that mark his skin, unsure of where they end and the new ones begin. 

You can’t figure it out — in front of you sits Chan, but it can’t be the Chan you know. It can’t be the one who giggles at your stupid jokes or falls asleep in your 8am lectures, or the one who remembers your coffee order every single time. The one who you swore had never fought with anyone in his life. The Chan in front of you looks so broken that you can’t put the two of them together. 

“You… okay?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his again as he speaks, voice cracking and hoarse. Your heart stutters a bit in your chest as he attempts to look down at you, his eyes hooded over and half closed with the effort. He looks like he’s about to fall over, and still, he’s asking if you’re okay.

You’re hit so hard with sudden emotion that it causes you to inhale sharply without warning. Your hand lifts involuntarily to brush his hair back from where it’s falling into his eyes, and as he continues to try and hold your gaze, you register it all. This Chan is still your Chan. It’s the same Chan that has stirred feelings inside your chest that you were certain you could never feel again. The Chan whose intelligence and kindness still astounds you every single day. This Chan and your Chan are the same.

Your head spins.

When you finally make it to the bathroom, it’s all Chan can do to slouch down onto his bathroom floor. You help him out of the rest of his suit before crouching down beside him, wracking your brain for everything you’ve ever learned about cleaning wounds. You remain numb as he gives you single-word answers to where things are in his bathroom. It’s funny — you’ve been in his apartment so many times, but you’ve never needed to know where the antiseptic was. 

Chan’s eyes remain half-open as you work. He’s fighting with all his might, you can tell, and you can feel his eyes on you the whole time. You don’t think his gaze leaves you even once. It becomes monotonous: you clean the cut, he winces, you apologize. And repeat. Your mind wanders in what you’re sure is an attempt to protect yourself.

You’d come over tonight for your weekly movie night, letting yourself in with the code you’d long since been given access to. When hours had passed with no sign of Chan and no texts from him either, your heart had broken a little — had he forgotten? Was he okay? It was so unlike him that you’d stayed just in case, your heart racing with every little noise as you waited. 

You hate so much that your worst fears had come true.

Chan’s pain seems to ease in record time, bruises forming on his skin faster than you’ve ever seen. You have so many questions, but you push it all down, down, down. He falls asleep on his couch and you stay up all night, blanket pulled around your shoulders as you sit on the windowsill and make sure he’s still breathing. 

He wakes as the sun is beginning to rise, and you watch as he shifts to sit up, letting out a breath of what sounds like relief when he’s able to move without much trouble. Some of the cuts on his face and chest are already scabbed over. 

How?

When his eyes finally land on you, he jumps a little.

“Hi.”

”You didn’t sleep.”

It’s an observation rather than a question. You pull your knees up and rest your chin on them. “I was worried.”

It’s quiet, and he doesn’t know what to say. Neither do you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is small, and he immediately feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he expects you to do, what he expects you to say. You level him with your gaze, searching his face. Your eyes linger on the scabbed-over cut just above his brow, and you bite your lip before you speak again.

“It was…” You can feel your lower lip start to tremble in an act of betrayal, and you bite down on it to try and stop yourself from crying. “It was terrifying to see you like that, Chan,” you finally manage, and you know that after all these hours, the dam is about to break. You can tell he knows it, too, by the way his brows furrow even more, and his eyes widen just slightly.

“I know,” he murmurs, and that’s what does it.

Your hands move to cover your face as you finally let yourself cry, sobs muffled by your palms. You can hear the couch creak as Chan moves, and you can feel his presence as soon as he’s close. He whispers your name once, his voice breaking, and when he moves your hands away from your face, you don’t have the strength to stop him. He’s sitting next to you on the windowsill now. You sniffle, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Chan holds onto your wrists, rubbing gentle circles against the skin. 

“I’m so mad at you,” you finally say, and he lets go of your hands. He doesn’t retreat to his side of the window though, staying put as he nods, chewing on his bottom lip as he looks down.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” he says, voice quiet. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t… but you still have every right to be pissed at me.”

It’s silent, and you stare at him in disbelief. There are so many thoughts running through your head, and it takes you a moment to settle on just one. “You think I’m mad because you didn’t tell me that you were Spiderman?” You finally say, causing him to look at you again in surprise.

“I mean, yeah? Why else—“

“I’m mad,” you emphasize, “because you’re out there getting hurt, and my heart literally can’t take the thought of that, oh my god, Chan.” Your voice breaks, and fuck, you’re about to cry again, but you can’t stop. Your eyes trace over his face, pausing where the bruise is starting to form on his cheek, and you feel frustration begin to build again as you angrily blink back tears. “What the fuck, Chan. Why the hell are you… I mean, if I hadn’t been able to help you last night, I wouldn’t — I just, I can’t even imagine—“

Your words are cut off as Chan’s hands find the side of your face. His gaze is firm as he looks at you, and his sudden boldness catches you off guard, your words dying in your throat. Once he seems to realize that you’re not going to run, his thumb moves to caress your jaw, and you can’t help the shiver that spreads through you at the gentle touch. Your hands lift to rest on his arms where they’re holding you, and you’re speechless, your eyes unable to leave his. He takes in a deep breath, and you follow.

“I’m here,” he says, and you draw in another shaky breath. You don’t think he’s ever been this forward with you before, but you’re grateful for it. He’s warm, and he’s here. He’s alive.You’re torn between wanting to never leave his side again, and needing desperately to be away from him so that you can think.

“I think it might be good for me to go now that I know you’re okay,” you say softly after a moment, and you can see the hurt that briefly shadows his eyes. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, though, and he nods, removing his hands from your face. 

“I understand.”

“And I… I probably need some time.”

He nods again, and your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, but you have to. For now. Your feet feel leaden as you get up, going through the motions as you grab your backpack from the hook by his door. You barely register putting on your shoes, your mind on autopilot until it’s broken by his voice from just behind you.

“Y/N?”

Your name coming from his lips feels like a punch to the gut, and you almost reach out for him again, but you hold firm.

”Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. Can you just…” he sucks in a breath. “Can you please not tell anyone? About, you know—”

His words hit like a ton of bricks. You cut him off, expression full of silent fury at the insinuation. “Yeah. I won’t.” 

You’re pissed that he even had to ask, and he knows it, but there’s nothing else he can do. His secret is more important than anything — he just wishes it didn’t have to be more important than you. 

It takes three days for you to end up back at his door. He’s missed all of your shared college courses so far this week, and you’re worried. You’re terrified, actually, and you need to see him.

When he opens the door, you do a double take. It’s almost like nothing happened to him at all. The bruises and cuts are barely-there, and you’re reminded of the miles-long list of questions you have stored in the back of your brain. He’s surprised to see you, you can tell, and he blinks slowly before stepping aside to let you in.

“How are you?” You level him with raised eyebrows as you take off your shoes, and he nods, biting his lip. “Yeah, I know. I was worried that—“

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you interrupt. “Don’t worry.” You look down, your heart twisting painfully in your chest when you remember the words he’d said to you. ‘Can you please not tell anyone?’ You cross your arms as you head over to the living room, but you don’t sit down. You don’t really know what your plan had been — you’d just needed to see him. 

“Oh,” comes his soft reply before he adds, “I mean… I didn’t really think that you would.”

Your eyes briefly meet his across the room, confused, before you recover and look back down at the floor. “So then what were you worried about?”

You can feel his gaze intent on your face. “You.”

Your breath catches and your eyes swiftly meet his again. You blink. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Chan,” you say after a moment, trying to push down the bubble of irritation you feel building in your chest. “You didn’t even text me once.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he says quietly, “You said that you needed time.”

“To process, yes! But you didn’t even text me that you were okay. I was worried about you, Chan. Why would you be worried about me? I’m not the one coming through your window and fainting from injury, now am I?”

You can see the guilt flicker across his face. “I know,” he says, and then he suddenly feels the need to apologize again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t message you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” He pauses. “Ever again, maybe.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and your heart breaks. You feel the anger in you start to dissipate as he looks away from you. Your eyes catch on the barely-there faded scar across his eyebrow, and your mind is filled with painful memories of the Chan you’d seen that night. 

“You’re so fucking stupid, Chan.” 

He knows. But judging by the way you sit down on his couch instead of storming out again, he thinks that somehow, his stupidity has already been forgiven. 

It’s quiet as he joins you. You can feel him looking at you, and when you can’t take it anymore, you look back at him pointedly. He blushes, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. You sigh, your head falling into the back of the couch before you turn and curl up against it, your eyes drifting shut. 

"Is that my sweater?" 

Your eyes shoot open, and it's as if he's finally grown the courage to look at you directly again now. His brown eyes search yours, and he motions to the shirt you're wearing. You look down — even though you know he's right — and your cheeks are on fire. You’re wearing the sweater he’d leant you forever ago on a cold night for your walk home — the one you’d never returned. You slept in it almost every night, and he hadn’t asked for it back. 

"Keeps me warm," you mumble, tugging on the hem. It's silent for a beat before you continue, voice even quieter than before. You pause, ruminating on your next words before you take a deep breath and say, “The last few nights, wearing it kind of made me feel like you were safe.”

You can hear his intake of breath before he says, soft, “Are you mad at me?”

You shake your head, because you’re not. You’re scared, stressed, worried sick — but you’re not mad. Not anymore. “No, Chan.”

The nickname sends a flood of relief through him more than your actual reply does. 

“I’m not mad,” you continue, “because of course you’re Spiderman. Of course you’re putting yourself in danger trying to protect others. I love how selfless you are, Lee Chan — I always have. But me? I’m selfish. And I’m scared to death of losing you.”

All he says, all he can say, is, “I’m scared, too.”

You look at him again now. You search his face as you ask, “Of what?”

“Of getting hurt. Of… of losing you, too.”

Your heart is suddenly beating so fast you think it might soon break free from your rib cage. You don’t know why you say it, because you’ve already got his undivided attention, but his name comes out breathlessly anyway. “Chan?” 

“Yeah?” He’s looking at you with those beautiful, big, questioning eyes, and you can’t help it. 

“I think it might be a terrible time for me to say this,” you blurt out, “but I — Chan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

“Wait, what?”

Your face flushes, and it’s your turn to look away. “Sorry,” you murmur.

“No, don’t — oh my god. What?”

You’re not sure what he wants from you. You’re embarrassed now, pulling your knees up to your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from your feelings. Your face is flushed as you turn to look out the window, and you can almost hear Chan’s brain buffering as he remains silent.

“Do you mean that?”

“Why would I say it if I didn’t mean it?” Your voice comes out a bit harsher than you intend it to, but you don’t take it back. 

“I…” He trails off. He doesn’t say anything more, and the quiet is almost deafening. You’re finding it a little harder to breathe as the seconds pass, and you wrack your brain for something, anything to say to fill the stifling silence.  

“I’m going to go,” is what comes out, and then you’re standing up so abruptly that you feel a little dizzy. The scene is familiar — you, running from what you’re feeling, running from him. 

“Wait,” he blurts out, and you do. You pause in spite of everything in you that’s begging you to run, and then he says, “Can I… I mean, do you want to… kiss?”

You turn back, eyes wide. It’s such a ridiculous question, such an innocent thing for him to ask in light of everything that’s happened in the last few days — but it’s so Chan that you almost forget about it all. This is probably a bad idea, you both know that — and you don’t care. You don’t know how this is going to work, but you’ll figure it out. 

Because it’s your Chan — the one who cares so much, the one who gives you hope, the one who wants nothing but for the world to be a better place.

“I mean — I love you too,” he says into the silence, and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer.

“Yes,” you breathe out before he can panic. “Fuck. I have so many questions, but first, yes. Yes, I want to kiss you, Lee Chan.”

You can hardly believe the giggle and shy smile he sends your way before he kisses you breathless. 

Yeah, you think to yourself as he pulls back, as your fingers lift to gently trace the barely-there bruise on his cheek, as he leans into the warmth of your hand. As you think about how he’s been doing all of this — trying to change the world — alone.

Yeah, you think. You’ll figure it out. 

TAGLIST: @waldau @minisugakoobies @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @wqnwoos @wheeboo @christinewithluv @lvlystars @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @iluvseokmin @seohomrwolf @pan-de-seungcheol @bewoyewo @kyeomkyeomi @mingyuscoffee @harry-the-pottypus @lightprincess-world @icyminghao @bella-l @darkypooo

[grind-pantera]

Cleopatra. ( Caesar x Pregnant! Human Reader, Drabble Series. POTA )

I should not listen to myself i said 5 drabbles well well here we are with like 6 and close to 7K words and most of them are smaller oneshots AH. Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated. I am working on a similiar piece for NOAAAAA!!!!

Beginnings. ( Drabble 1. )

You felt like you couldn’t breathe - the air was sticking onto your lungs, coating them in ashen dust that was laying on the ground of the woods. You needed to move --- Okay, maybe not, grunting that inside of your mind as you attempted to shift your head just a bit to get a bearing onto your surroundings proved futile as red hit your eyes and your neck convulsed under the usual movement. Pain radiated from the back of your head, down to the base of your neck and stagnantly danced on the nerves piled there. Even shifting to press your hand against your stomach was an endeavor and even then, the blood that was on the palm of your hand… You squinted at it, fear setting in as the last drop of whatever adrenaline you had faded into obscurity.

 Was… Was that your blood? Trying to swallow was impossible, planting your face down into the mud and letting out a strangled cry as you attempted to move once again, your teeth gritting against each other but in the scape of the situation, that felt heavenly as compared to the tattering that was running through your muscles. Saliva began mixing into the already impure snow under your body having been mixed previously with mud. One foot, you tried to convince yourself. You just needed one… On… One… Looking down at your right foot as you managed to get yourself kneeling, accomplishment was short-lived as your ears rang, your center of gravity disappearing as did your vision. Falling back, your body was hard to hit the ground. 

In a fitted haze of unconsciousness, you could have sworn you were… Swooped up in one foul move by a set of arms that were much hairier than a humans. Warm, you had thought to yourself, but that could be swelling in your brain telling you that death was on the horizon. Death… Sounded nice versus the incredible tremors of your body, throwing into a it of hypothermia, a cusp of bruises and cut-marks aligning against your already frigid skin to the point where it felt you were going to shatter into shards if you were moved too quickly, to feverishly. How selfishly you wanted to open the door where the knock was coming from. But you had more to think about than just yourself now. 

Flinching at the pain of your abdomen, a pair of hands were astute enough to deduce your intensely fragile situation. 

What… is happening?

Voice of God, it had to be. It trembled in a deep setting baritone, hard and unforgiving. Yes, you wanted to cry, I am with Child but I… Can’t find it in myself… to live…

Found in woods! Nearby Human Camp--- This voice was light and airy but you were unable to process the words that came after that, your mind bending into a haze as you tried to get yourself into a state of lucidity so you could actually focus.  Brought back to Colony when saw she was still alive.

Colony? You wanted to tilt your head but in your jilted state, you were unable to move.

With Child. Not far along, but both will survive if we keep her here and heal.

This voice was a bit more soft spoken, gentle and caressing like the hands that were now placed on your head, your eyes refusing even the most basic of knowledge from your brain to get them open. It smelt like conifer, the highest tree possible, a bird sitting atop and watching the inklings of the ground below its mighty perch. Heaven? There was a lax in the air of contemplation before the baritone voice from earlier spoke. 

She will stay, do what you can to heal. 

And with that command and your mind taking itself to the darkness, even in the state of your eyelids being shut, everything went black. 

Empathetic Ape. ( Drabble 2. )

It did not take long after you finally willed yourself out of your semi-coma to realize that you… Had been taken prisoner by a Colony of Apes. In your mind, you drew the conclusion from the snippets of the conversation you got when you were first brought here in your altered state of reality that… They had found you. Half-alive and brought you back to the Colony at the bid of their King. This… Your eyes narrowed a small bit as you looked over the giant and sweeping bonfire that was built in the middle of this communal space. This Caesar. 

There was irony in the name itself, and you just had to wonder if he knew that. You had woken up nearly a month ago, fading in and out, but able to keep yourself stable enough to process that… They were being kind in healing you. They knew, you drew your arms closer to your stomach as you tightened the animal pelt around your shoulders and gave Caesar a wide stare as he looked over at you, your actions must have torn him from his conversation with the others around him. They knew you were pregnant. They must have thought they were sparing you, not telling you the detailed nature of the camp when they had found you. The--- You choked a small cry, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. The bodies. Your friends. Your family. Your--- Squeezing your eyelids shut, you couldn’t bear to think about it any longer and forced a swallow down before looking at the fire rather blandly. “Do not know… much,” That voice! You jumped on your spot, clutching the pelt even harder and causing your knuckles to go white. Your eyes scaled from the jumping flames, up the hackles of an Apes legs and rested uncomfortably in a sea of green, ablaze from the depths of the fire itself. You swallowed lightly, watching him move in petulant silence as he sat next to you, bowl in his hand. Caesar. Caesar. Your mind was wailing like an old police car.

“About human… Pregnancy.” No shit, you wanted to retort sarcastically but you held your tongue as he held out the bowl in his hand. Fruit. And… You squinted. Roasted fish? Your stomach churned at the prospect of having something other than a slurry of ground up food, something the Apes that were aiding you to heal often fed you as a means to get the food down as fast as possible. Faster, no chance of morning sickness, right? Wrong. You found yourself kneeling over and getting sick more times than you could count. “Might be similar to Ape, but do not know.” In between his choppy English, you grasped the plate carefully with one hand and brought it into your chest with the smallest ‘thank you’. It wasn’t as if the Female Apes that were healing you were awful, they weren’t cordial though. It felt they only did what they needed to to appease the Ape next to you. Strong, mighty and all encompassing Caesar. “I am…” You had begun eating, chewing mildly so as to not disturb the tone of Caesar’s voice. Waving right around the edges, or it could have been your imagination in the front of the roar of a fire, “Sorry…” Furrowing your eyebrows at that, you picked the fish with your pointer finger, suddenly not at all invested in eating as bile switched in your throat. “Lost my mate,” He continued on, your eyes dead-set and widening as you realized he was… displaying empathy. Your mind fogged for a moment. They were capable of that? “Only recently,” Gesturing to the perch you had found yourself watching him on earlier in the evening, he was making direction towards the broader chest of one of the Females that took care of you here. Squinting, you gasped quietly. They were so small, so ingrained in the fur that it was hard to tell there was a baby there, until their tiny head turned to the side and much to your surprise, you were met with a mild azure rather than the scrutiny of green you were so used to. “Blue Eyes, my Son. Mother lost after… Birth.” Not meaning to seem rude, your tried to keep your mouth from falling open dramatically, but it did partially split. “Complications from childbirth?” Surprised at the gentle nature of your voice, you felt a tear slide down your right cheek and you were quick to brush it away. Like it mattered, once one started, there was a flood soon to come. He only nodded, silent and a bit less intimidating than the times you had seen him, times you had interacted before this. “I---” you choked a bit, looking down at the bowl in your hands that Caesar was gracious enough to bless you with, “Don’t know wh-what happened to my husband… Was…” Narrowing your eyes in slight suspicion, you glanced over at him briefly when your voice tapered into nothingness but you forced yourself to speak the next question with no animosity. You needed to know the answer. “Was it Apes?” He’d know the answer, you bargained. Being a King and all. That’s what it was to be a Leader. You knew the good, and you knew the bad. And even worse than all of that, you knew the carnage. “No.” He was assured in that answer as his gaze met yours once again, this time, instead of finding yourself looking away, you drifted towards it, towards some comfort that someone else… Knew about the absolute torn away nature of your heart and how it was so empty now.

“Humans.” There was a twinge of assurance in his voice as he rose, gesturing to the bowl he had given you. “Keep strength up. Not just for yourself, but for…” His eyes flickered down to your stomach, minute in nature but he may as well have been gawking at you. “Child.”

Baby Blue. ( Drabble 3. )

A few months passed and you found yourself easing into the Colony, despite the disgruntled comments you got from a certain Bonobo who shall not be named. That was your nickname for him, and that’s how it remained as Winter fell off and Spring blossomed, the wildflowers bustled through the ground, through the snow that was still encapsulating its livelihood. All of it was going to be gone by the end of the day, you thought mildly as you looked at the Sun.

Taking a bid from Caesar himself, you were basking in the rays, sitting atop a rather comfortable tree trunk that had been rolled onto its side as a means to be sat on. He had convinced you to leave your hut earlier in the day, telling you that Sun was good for Ape pregnancy, it must be good for Humans. There was no intense argument to be made as you gave him a delicate smile, nodding in agreement and finding yourself drenched deliciously in mild-warmth, your scattered and torn paperback book sitting in your lap. 

Looking down at it… You felt a deep yearning and pressing sensation hit your chest. You were showing. Not much, you were sure that the other Apes had yet to notice any change with you, not that you could blame them. As you got adapted to living with them, you became just another part of Colony life and they paid you no heed. Unless you were late for meals. Then Luca was on you ( something you thought that Caesar was responsible for, but it turns out the Silverback was genuinely concerned for you at times ).

 In your time here, he had become your closest ally, even going as far as to call him a friend. He made gentle comments, telling you how glowing you looked today, something he must have heard through the grapevine that humans said about pregnancy, he told you how wonderful it was that your baby was developing, and that you were beginning to actually show. He had explained that with Apes, they all grew small. Small to the point where it was undetectable. You envied that, placing a soft hand against your bump and sighed deeply. Soon, no Ape here would be able to walk past you without gawking, without it looking like you had stolen a ripe melon and decided to shove it under your shirt. 

There was chittering to your side, your head wiping over to investigate. Not too quickly though, even though time had passed, your neck still felt sore if you went to fast in your movements. Blue Eyes, much like yourself, was growing. The phase of always clinging to a Female, or even better, your guilty pleasure when you wanted to see something abnormally cute, clinging to Caesar’s chest, were coming to a close and he was becoming more curious of the world around him, much like yourself.

Chuckling at the fact that you were drawing comparisons to a baby Chimp, you grunted and picked him up as he so often liked to held by you when you would read pages from your book. He had to learn speech, right? And who better to learn from than from a Human who had impeccable --- Well, you tilted your head and smiled at the baby as he crawled himself up your arm, around your shoulder and then back down the other arm, decent skills in English. 

He paused at the same time that you did, a fluttering capturing your abdomen. Was that… It happened again, this time more fervently, your mouth falling into an ‘O’ shape, and any Ape who saw you at this moment were probably assuming that you were laughing. “Did… did you feel that?” You bent your head down and gawked at Blue Eyes, who gave you a small tilt of the head as he placed his dainty hand right upon the top of your bump. Right where you had felt the sensation. The butterflies - The - The… Your baby. 

“You felt that.” Confirming that, Blue Eyes hooted in your lap as a response. You had no idea what he was saying as tears hit the back of your eyes as your face contorted. You began openly sobbing, not a care in the world if anyone saw you. 

Caesar was perched in his normal spot, having just dismissed the council. Koba lingered as he usually did, giving comments about you, about you being with child and how dangerous of a game it really was. But, the King was in no mood to listen to that and told Koba that he would need time to think about his words and they could discuss at a later time.

Blue Eyes-- He had jumped off Caesar’s shoulder mid-meeting. Probably scavenging somewhere for some berries, most likely pestering you though as that slowly became the small Prince’s favorite pastime. Not that Caesar was one to complain. It came with benefits. You were good with Blue Eyes, you were gentle and kind and it gave Caesar actual time with his own thoughts without having to dally on his child. 

He peered down the rock ledge. Spotting you was easy, your scent often gave away your where-abouts to Caesar. Green eyes hit the back of your head first, admiring the tousel of your hair on this particular day and how it appeared naturally highlighted in the sunshine.

You had been reading, Caesar’s suspicions confirmed. Blue Eyes was with you and was most likely getting a mouth full from whatever you were reading to him. Then the shaking of your shoulders. Caesar’s eyes narrowed upon seeing his Son’s small hand on your stomach. He wasn’t… No, no, Blue Eyes wasn’t hurting you, the gentle touch he had was too soft to inflict damage of any sort. Watching in contemplation of whether he wanted to go down there and see what was happening, he saw your hand come up as you lightly placed it on Blue Eyes’, holding it against the shelf of your stomach that was becoming more pronounced. Caesar stopped himself from moving and just… Surveyed. He could hear your mild words fluttering through the air like dandelion seeds. “I think it’s a boy.” Chittering from Blue Eyes. “A girl? Are you sure?”

Camp. ( Drabble 4. )

Caesar had told you that on their most recent delectation of Hunting, on top of snagging a few Elk for the Colony, they had fallen upon what appeared to be a deserted human settlement. He estimated it had been abandoned for only a year, maybe less. Some of the things were coated finely in dust from the woods, no implications that it had been there since the beginning of the Flu and it was in remarkable condition.

He didn't dig into it though, unsure of what items you were in more need of than others and had chosen to come back home and tell you of it. You were prompt to accept the offer to go with him two days from when he told you, now in the present you were teetering yourself to keep balance on the uneven floor of the woods, opting to walk when you were concerned of riding a horse while pregnant. He told you it wasn’t much farther, having left shortly after dawn and stopping a few times as you severely needed to relieve yourself behind a tree, having to tell the Ape King himself not to watch you as he was pretty concerned you could be attacked while out of his sight. Ideas flurried in your mind as you drew closer, Caesar having just stopped to take in the surroundings.

He banked right, and you were quick to follow. You thought about what pieces of clothing you had. Things were beginning to not fit, you were rounding out and getting plump. Your favorite cargo pants were hanging on by a literal hair-tie that you had been using to keep them shut by the front button, your favorite shirt… Well, the Apes, you joked in your head, must have been tired of seeing the bottom of your stomach always innately displayed. 

Some larger shirts would do the trick, nothing needed to be Maternity in a world where that was considered a privilege and luxury. To put things plainly, as you had told the Ape King, who was kind enough now to give you a helping hand right down a small embankment, his other hand coming to ghost right under your bump to keep your center of gravity, leaving you with a wild tinted blush against your cheek when you scuffled against him, chest to bump for a few seconds, beggars could not be choosers. 

Pulling away from Caesar’s grasp was never an easy thing. You wanted nothing more than to sink into him, sink into the tender moments where he had you alone, and vice versa. The late nights of restlessness you found yourself in at times, thinking of your lost family, your husband, the conversations in front of the dying fire where he had finally laid bare his feelings and emotions about the loss of his wife.

Spotting glances through the day, Caesar laid his hands on you only when he was easing to help you. He had taken note that while Cornelia was small, and Chimpanzees were known to carry small, you were quite a delicious spectacle to his eyes in all the best ways and he considered your attention something he actively sought now, though, he was unsure if he was willing to ease himself into admitting that. 

Rounding a large Red Wood, your eyes were witnessed to the camp. If you felt like running, you would surely do that but the fear of falling flat on your face stopped you as you tore away from Caesar and trekked ahead of him, only giving him a glance over your shoulder as if you were asking if it was okay to go in front of him. He did not nod, but he didn't object as you gave him a smile and quickened your pace, hand on the underside of your growing baby to keep yourself steady enough as you sauntered.

The outside was remarkably sparse, nothing to really indicate that Humans had been there, other than a firepit and a few strewn bags like they packed and left in a hurry. But, once you were able to really get your teeth sunk into the abandoned building, from the set up of an old restaurant of sorts, you were able to get a taste of things you had missed. You felt like crying as you came upon a table with a few pieces of clothing on it. Upon further inspection, they were Men’s, XL. Without hesitation, they were placed into the bag that Caesar had provided for the occasion. Three shirts, one red, one black and one white. Basic, but you were bursting at the seams. All you needed were some pants! Maybe some undergarments if there were any. It felt like you were in a retail store! So exciting---

Feet coming to a slow pause they eventually stopped moving and billow of dust remained underfoot. Your eyes wanted to blink, but you were unable to stop. Caesar must have seen you, having rounded you and obscured your vision from what you were focused on in a darkened corner. He didn't touch you, he wasn’t sure if that was allowed as tears slid down your cheeks.

One at a time before they came down in a torrential rain. You pushed past him as if he weren’t even there and trailed forward, dropping to your knees without reserve as you grasped the small teddy bear into your hands. There was a name embroidered upon it. Fingers touched the thread, pink in color. Cedar. 

Caesar drew near you carefully, the sob you let out was nothing short of shocking and he felt the hackles of his fur standing on edge as if someone were there intentionally hurting you. 

“A… baby…” You whimpered to him, holding up the bear for him to take. He saw nothing special about it as he grasped it with one hand and you shuffled on your hands and knees, baring the pain it was causing you against the tile flooring and came upon a few tangled up pieces of clothing. Small. So… So very small… “Th-They had a baby…” Crying out again, you grasped the clothing and held it in your hands before falling back onto your butt, “Do-do you think they-they’re still alive?” Caesar had no words, his eyes widened at the turmoil you were suddenly thrusted in. No explanation, perhaps those… Pregnancy hormones you had joked about from time to time, Caesar thought and narrowed his eyes on you. He didn't… know how to comfort you. You were crumbling down right in front of him.

He knew you were going to need help getting off the ground though, and he was careful to crouch next to you. Plucking the baby clothing out of your hand, he placed them lightly onto the floor, your eyes squeezing shut and without a word, you collapsed right against. Caesar was fast to react, grunting a small bit as he moved himself, and then you enough to get your body to sit in his actual arms rather than against him.

“B-B-B-...” You stuttered, the Ape hoisting you upwards to get you out of the dusty nature of the floor, you clung onto him tightly. “Do-Do you think they…” Caesar surged a bit at your implied questions, grasping you that much tighter. The side of your bump conformed against his broad chest. “I--- I am sure they got out. That they are fine.” He did not feel comfortable bluntly lying about something that he had no basis for, but as the tears fell from your eyes, as you grasped his forearm tightly, your fingers digging to the point where you were touching his skin and no longer his fur, Caesar didn't care. He’d lie his tongue off just to get you to a sense of comfort. 

Bumping Foreheads. ( Drabble 5. )

The water surging against your back felt incredible. Pressing your hands to the small of your back, right above your tailbone you grunted gently and eased back into the chill of the small waterfall you had been blessed to enjoy in the spotting Summer evenings. It was still early in the season, but it was beckoning you more and more to enjoy. You knew that Caesar was in the area - probably only meters away, and paying his eyes attention elsewhere as to not see you naked, but his hearing and his scent were always on the prowl. Three times a week he’d bring you to the secluded waterfall, letting you bathe and release the tension he knew that your body was going through. 

You were large - to the point where you had accidentally bumped into a bowl of blueberries this morning and it went tumbling down the rock face. Before you managed to cry though, Blue Eyes began eating them right off the ground and Caesar even blessed you with a mild joke of ‘they… are not completely… ruined’. That did make you feel better as you sniffled and nodded in agreement. All things were cleared away when you took in the water, letting the chill seep into your pores as you tilted your head backwards to let it drain against your face. Feeling the kick on the side of your stomach, you winced at the severity of it against your ribs as your baby had turned to start playing against the bones there to let you know they were content with the water too. Maybe a bit cold for their tastes, but they were snuggly inside of your stomach, wrapped in eternal warmth until you were ready. Until they were ready, you thought, laughing and pressing your fingers against the side of your abdomen. They reacted right away to your touch, something like a hand or foot pushing back and you took in the sight of your stomach stretching with their movements. 

You had no care in the world anymore. Hell, you thought to yourself in your bliss of the moment, you’d let Caesar see you bare in all your glory. It was the most comfortable. Clothes were restricting, especially in the heat that started to stick around in the early afternoons into the evenings. You thought about that again… You’d… Let Caesar see you either way. The vague notion left you more than amused. He must have thought it pretty grotesque what your body was doing to itself in a bid to grow another Human. 

The stretching of your skin, the wild-card emotions that you became comfortable letting loose around him, your breasts were unfortunately too big for any of your undergarments and you were unable to find one that was accommodating and you ended up going the last few weeks without one. You could have sworn you’d seen him staring at them, but that could have just been in your mind as ravishing ideas ran through you and rested rather uncomfortably between your legs when Caesar stared at you a bit too long. How you tried to push aside the feeling.

The pestering in the back of your head. Maybe, just the hormones, you tried to convince yourself over and over. You were pregnant, you were alone… It made sense, right? To… Want to be… satisfied? Your thoughts came to a slow stop as you looked down at yourself. Unable to see your feet, you still wiggled your toes like you were able to and sighed deeply. He probably found you unattractive beyond belief. 

“Are you… done?” Caesar asked, not shouting but loud enough for you to hear over the waterfall itself. He was close, as you had suspected, his deep baritone coming from the right of you. “Nearly sundown.”

“Yes. Can you toss my blanket on the shore for me to grab?” You asked, waddling yourself out of the water's way and into the open space of the small river that the water trickled into, grasping your hair and wringing it out. That was the rule. He’d throw your blanket on the ground, you’d wrap yourself up in it so he couldn’t see you naked, and you’d dry yourself, re-cloth your body and head back to the Colony, less than a click to the west. 

With your arms still in your hair and your eyes shut as you enjoyed the last feelings of water against you, you could hear Caesar moving. Figuring that the blanket had been placed previously, you thought nothing of it and thought that he was just moving out of the way again as to not see you bare. Releasing your hair with a small groan, you opened your eyes and looked at the shore. Green.

Green eyes.

Green eyes staring at you.

Green eyes staring at you while you were naked.

Caesar didn't move. It appeared he was completely frozen, blanket still in his hands and you were flashing him without reserve. If you were able to move quickly, you were sure you would but you found it difficult to do as you wadded through the water with a fast paced waddle. At least, it was fast for you, it probably looked pretty comical to the Ape. Caesar was still frozen, his eyes had drifted downwards towards your chest to linger for a moment before they finally rested right on your bump. Protruding… And not appealing, you groaned internally and clutched the blanket right out of his hand and untangled it. 

“Caesar.”

Nothing, he was still looking at your bump as you wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Caes--” Your hands were grasped. Actually, it was more or less your wrists and with one swoop, the blanket was pooling at your feet and you brought your knees together for a moment when he caught eyes with you before they trailed right back down your body. Supple breasts, he noted, nice, nice bump, he had only really seen a pregnant human this close to him through the screen of a TV back when he was with Will.

The rounding, dipping between your legs--- Caesar stopped himself at that and trailed his gaze back upwards to rest right on the top of your bump, looking down at it.  Being self-conscious finally hit you as you tried to hide yourself away from the judgment he was placing down on you, but Caesar just… Admired. You supposed that was the right word, you had no premonition as to what he was thinking or what he was do---

Without even asking, his hand was placed on you. Not just on you, but on the bump that encased your baby. Right on the underside of it, he drew his hand in as far in as it would go. Shuddering at the chilly nature of his already leathery skin, your eyes widened, mouth ajar as your breathing had picked up.

With your mind racing, you were frantic to look into his eyes to get any idea of what he was thinking, even if it meant you needed to tear his head open just to get a glimpse. Your bottom lip quivered at the feeling, a direct response your body was giving to the fact that you were being touched. No, no… Your knees went weak for a second, but Caesar grasped you with his free hand under your elbow to keep you steady, refusing to relent control on your stomach. You were being caressed. 

“I-I’m probably fatter than the Apes get.” You tried to get him to look at you, you tried to get him to say something other than standing defenseless. “I---” Gasping quietly, Caesar moved his hand from the undercarriage to the top where he brushed the pads of his fingers in the most feather-like way he was able to muster. It tickled, but you bit your tongue in a bid to see what he was doing. You knew, oh how you knew now, he wasn’t going to hurt you. 

“Have never seen…” He started.

“Yeah, well, we get fat.” You joked again, jolting your shoulders forward for you to cup your arms on top of your bump and shield yourself from his eyes. Before you even had a chance to do that though, Caesar's free hand that had previously been cupping your elbow moved. You had no time to react as he cupped the back of your head and brought it towards his own. Breathless, not due to the baby for once, you swallowed hard, shutting your eyes and let it happen. Caesar’s forehead lightly kissed your own.

Lightly at first, but as he tangled his thick fingers into your hair, he pulled your neck towards his own with a bit more fever, his own eyes squeezing shut at the silent admittance. The hand that was tracing your bump remained, but now was placed on the side. His entire hand spread, finger to finger, across the entire scape of your skin and you sunk into it with a small moan of satisfaction. This… you thought, letting your eyes flutter open for just one moment so you could see him this close to you. This was where you belonged.

Birth. ( Drabble 6. )

The intensity of your screams were not for the faint of heart, and you figured that was the case and shared sentiment of the Female Ape midwives that flanked your entire body, one working diligently between your legs to gauge your dilation. Caesar had known it to be hard for Humans, their babies were much larger than Ape babies and required a lot more pushing and vigor to actually induce birth. Hours, he thought to himself, his eyes tired and red around the edges, his hand, as tough as it had been for years, was nothing more than a swelled appendage from your hand grasping at it so tightly, fingernails digging into the calloused skin when another contraction set in your vision and racked your entire body of all senses. 

You were beyond sweating, you felt like you were swimming as Caesar brought his free hand up to wipe some of your wet hair away from your face. His skin felt cold against you, and for that, you leaned your head into the small wave of affection from him before another shot of pain dripped through you relentlessly. 

“I can’t do this!” You cried, your knees shaking as the midwife looked at Caesar who only nodded with a hard swallow. They were telling him in silence that you were ready. 

“You can.” He assured, but that felt fruitless as you hunched forward, bump contouring all sorts of ways in a very unnatural way that made even Caesar uncomfortable but he was steady fast and refused to leave your side. He knew this, he had been through this with Cornelia… He tried to not linger on that for too long. 

Things would be different, he tried to keep optimism alive as the midwife told you verbally that it was time to push. The extrusion on your face caused the Ape King to shut his eyes for a moment as you grunted out, attempting to push the baby from your body to greet the world. Yes… He laxed himself and reached around your entire head to hold onto you as you screamed to the highest heavens, things were going to be different. You… You could do this. You were going to preserver and you would have a new addition to the family that Caesar had already provided for you. He knew he couldn’t cry, not in front of the others, but how he just wanted to take all your pain away. It was hard not to go feral, the simple smell of your blood and sweat were eradicating his entire nose. He didn't dare look down and kept his green gaze focused on the side of your face as he was propped next to you, laying in the nest. “Ohhhh my god!” You jolted with another push, breathing rapidly and it felt like your entire chest was suddenly on fire after being cold for so long. Plunged into an ice bath and then sent to the depths of a volcano. “Caesar!” One more. The midwife signed at Caesar one handed, the other properly braced between your legs. 

“You need to give one more,” Caesar said and brought his hand through your hair once more. Swallowing, you felt a shudder run down your spine at the prospect of having to give it more despite giving it your all already. You were being torn in half, someone grasping both legs and pulling with all their might and they wanted you to give more. Strangling a cry out, Caesar brought his forehead down and planted it directly onto yours. “One more…”

As if a robot shocked back to life, Caesar still holding onto your head and moving forward as you braced yourself, you gave it one more as commanded. The sheer terror of your scream faded into the wails of a baby… A… baby… Your mind fogged. Concern swept over the Ape as he grasped the side of your face. “A girl,” He told you, breathing against your cheek and right into your ear, “A girl.” 

Repeating that seemed to bring you right back from the trenches as tears flooded down your face, mixing deliciously with the sweat that had fallen from your forehead. Even now, you felt you were unable to breathe as you tried to smile - It was a forced grin of sorts, Caesar could tell that you were still in pain, but the crying of the baby… Caesar finally allowed himself to look down as the midwife was fast to adjust them properly in their arms before drifting upwards carefully to place them against your bare chest.

They were smeared with blood but… His eyes admired their small features. Carbon copies almost of your own when you were scrunched up for sleep. You have done it. You… Grew this… You made this Human and you preserved through the endeavors of birth. You began crying alongside your baby, hands reaching up and grasping at them lightly to keep them close to your chest. 

“Girl.” You finally managed to say something, your throat dry and incredibly hoarse. “Girl?” Asking that to your mate, he nodded and brought a hand up to rest against the child's small head.

“Girl.” Caesar confirmed.

Bonus ending:

Blue Eyes… Was incredibly cautious upon hearing the wailing of a human baby to the point where he grasped at Caesar’s chest with his small frame with all his might, his gaze intent on staring down whatever was causing the noise. With a small hush, you got them to quiet down against you, now lightly wrapped in a blanket you had for this very moment. 

‘New sister.’ Caesar signed for the Prince, looking at the now newly adorned princess with a soft gaze. ‘Say hello.’ He was still hesitant, but at the urging of Caesar himself as he placed Blue Eyes on the nest by your feet, you both watched in anticipation as the small Chimp moved his way up your body, making eye contact with you in a flurry of affection and happiness that you were still here. It had been an entire day where you and Caesar were gone and he was left to hang with the other Young Apes with Maurice, and he hadn’t the slightest clue where you were until now. Until… He crawled onto your shoulder as he so often did, your eyes shutting for a moment as he played along your hair before his gaze fell to the bundle in your arms. 

It was your turn to speak, “Blue,” He looked at you, suddenly frantic at the sound of your voice like he had forgotten, “This is your baby sister… Cedar.”

Bonus Ending ( 2 ):

Three Months Later.

Caesar, in his wildest dreams, never imagined he’d be holding a human baby, let alone the one of his mate. His tender gaze rested on you as you were laying in the nest, wrapped tightly in for a nap with Blue Eyes resting beside you, as he had offered to care for the baby that afternoon when you complained of being adversely tired. He did worry upon his offering that it would be difficult to care for them alone, but he didn't realize just how much they actually slept and Cedar seemed really intent on doing that in the warmth of her Father’s arm. 

He drew his gaze down to look at her. 

So small, and so gentle… Every day, Caesar thought to himself, she looked more like you. So beautiful.

Was she… Caesar’s brows furrowed for a moment at the curling of the baby’s mouth. She was… Smiling. Right up at him. Familiar, her head tilted towards Caesar’s chest minutely but the movement was there for him as he swallowed hard at the sight. 

She smiled at him.

Bonus Ending ( 3 ):

Five Years Later.

“Cedar, you need to get down from that tree right now!” You yelled, looking at the Chimp sitting next to the human, high up off the ground. Well, not that high up. Maybe two or three meters at the most but the idea of a fall was not for the faint of heart as the two young laughed. 

‘We climb higher,’ Blue Eyes signed to his sister. ‘That way mom cannot find us.’

There wasn’t any contemplation. Cedar nodded in agreement, grabbing the bark and began her ascent. 

“CAESAR!!! OUR SON BROUGHT OUR DAUGHTER INTO A TREE AND I CAN’T GET THEM DOWN! I SWEAR THEY GET THIS UNRULY BEHAVIOR FROM YOUR SIDE OF THE FAMILY!”

[hhughes]

୨୧ ⋅ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍﹙⠀JH86⠀﹚

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ◞ fem!wife!reader x jack hughes

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ◞ in which jack’s wife gives birth

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐜𝐰 ◞ complications during birth. talk of death.

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐰𝐜 ◞ 3.2K

⠀⠀╰  ꒰ 𝐚/𝐧 ◞ more of jack and pregnant!wife!reader since we all loved them sm!

You were sitting sideways on Jack’s lap in the lake house living room, while he was rubbing his hands up and down your swollen belly. 

“What are we eating tonight?” Quinn asks, from the other couch. 

“Chicken nuggets?” you ask, looking up at Jack and he smiles down at you.

"Whatever you want,” he whispers, kissing your temple, and Luke groans from his seat next to Quinn.

"You guys are so mushy.” he teases and you stick your tongue out at him.

"You're just jealous." you say with a smile and Luke grins back. 

He was a little jealous. He’s had a front row seat to your and Jack’s love from the moment you met, when you got married, up until now when you’re having a baby.

It’s like you guys fall more and more in love every day. Luke feels fortunate that he gets to witness that as often as he does. He can only hope to one day find something similar. Until then though, he is more than happy to tease you about it.

The guys honestly couldn’t eat any more chicken nuggets. It’s all that you’ve been eating for weeks. They even started calling the baby a little nugget because of it. 

“Chicken nuggets…again?” Quinn asks

“Yeah,” you agree, shifting to the side and groaning a little as pain shoots up your back all of a sudden.

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks

“I got a pain.” 

“A pain?” Jack asks, face full of alarm as he watches you. “What kind of pain?”

When you feel another pain shoot up your back, you cry out a little and grip Jack’s hand and sucking in a breath. “Pain, pain.”

“Like baby pain?” Quinn asks, his eyes wide in concern.

“I don’t know,” you say, shifting side to side, hoping it would lessen the burn in your back. It couldn’t be time. You weren’t ready. “It hurts.”

 “Do we need to go in? Quinn, grab her bag!” Jack says but you don’t move, leaning into him more as your back tenses up. It hurt, badly, but it was probably just braxton-hicks, you had those before. Though, this time felt more intense and that kind of worried you. 

“I don’t know. Wait. It’s not time. I’ve got like three more weeks.” you hiss out a breath.

“Maybe we should call my mom…I doubt she’s far” Jack says and you shake your head.

“No, I’m okay-” but before you could even finish your sentence, fluid rushed out of you, wetting your thighs and Jack’s lap in the process.

“Are you pissing on me?” Jack cries out.

“No. I think my water broke.” 

“Oh fuck. Can you stand? Quinn! Get her bag. We gotta go.” Jack says frantically, gently moving you off his lap and onto the couch.

“Ew, you have baby juices all over you.” Luke says and Jack sends him a glare.

“Shut up, Luke! Let me change and we’ll leave. Is that okay…can you wait?” Jack asks, hand on your lower back rubbing soothing circles.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I wanna change too,” you say calmly as the pain lessens enough for you to stand, but Jack doesn’t move. 

“Maybe you should stay here. You don’t wanna move too much right?”

“It’s fine.” 

“Why are you so calm? You’re having a child!” Luke yells even more frantic than Jack.

“Yeah, this isn’t something to be calm about. You’re gonna go crazy over cuddles and chicken nuggets but not about actually giving birth?” Jack asks exasperatedly and you roll your eyes moving past him.

“Let’s get changed and go to the hospital.” you say calmly, believing you have more than enough time to do so.

You heard that births can take up to hours. So when you got to the hospital and in the bed for the Dr. to check you, both of you were very surprised when she said… “You’re already 6 inches. This is gonna be fast, hope you’re ready.”

You look at Jack, who stares back at you, equally panicked and you both laugh. 

“We’re not ready!” he says, shaking his head. “I haven’t finished my book on how to be a good dad yet.” 

“The house in Jersey isn’t near done.” 

“Did you install the baby seat?”

“No, I thought you had.” 

“God we’re a mess! I thought we had three more weeks,” Jack says laughing a little, face full of happiness but you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Well, it’s coming. Might want to call your family, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” the doctor says, taking off her gloves.

“I've already called mom and dad, they’re on their way.” Quinn says and Jack nods appreciatively.

“I’ll call Dylan and Neeks, tell them what’s going on.” Luke says and makes his way out of the room.

“Want me to call anyone else?” Quinn asks

“Trev and Cole,” Jack says and Quinn nods making his way out of the room as well.

Both your parents had died in a car crash when you were little. Your grandma raised you but she passed away a few years ago. You felt a brief moment of sadness, thinking about the fact that you didn’t have any family that was going to be here. But that wasn’t true. When you fell in love with Jack, his family automatically became your own. His parents were your parents. His brothers are your brothers. And you were about to start your own little family with him.

When it’s just the two of you alone in the room, Jack turns and looks back at you gently brushing your hair away from your face. Not saying anything and simply admiring you.

“We got this.” you say, looking at him, trying to reassure him. 

He nods but it’s not confident at all, you could see it in his eyes. He was freaking out. 

“Don’t worry. We’re gonna be fine.” you say, laying a kiss on the palm that was cupping your cheek.

“Never expected you to be so calm about this,” Jack says, a little amused. 

“Right? Usually you’re the calm one.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “But you’re right, we got this.”

Jack caresses your cheek slightly before tilting your head up and kissing you hard on the lips.

“You’re amazing and I love you so much.” he whispers against your lips and you tear up a bit.

“I love you too. Let’s do this.” 

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain once it actually started up.

“I don’t think I can do this.” you say, gripping onto Jack’s hand so tightly he winces.

“Yes you can. You’re the strongest woman I know, baby. You can do anything.” Jack responds, pressing the washcloth along your forehead as Ellen comes rushing in.

“I’m so sorry. We were already home, and my phone was off. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay mom.” Jack reassures her.

“Everyone is in the waiting room. They wanted me to tell you they love you.” Ellen says taking the spot on your other side and holding the other hand.

“It hurts,” you cry

“I know, you’re doing great. Are you ready to meet our little baby?” Jack asks and you nod. 

“All right. Next contraction, we’re doing this.” the Doctor says, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

“Okay,” you agree, letting out deep breaths.

“You got this, baby.” Jack says, laying his head against yours as the contraction hits and you push with everything you got. 

After several more pushes, the cries of the baby finally filled the room.

“It’s a girl!” the doctor exclaims and you turn to see Jack with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

Ellen lets out a soft sob as the doctor places the baby on your chest.

She has Jack’s chin and nose. She looks just like him actually, but as she screamed in sheer frustration, you figured that was all you.

Still unable to speak, you just moved your finger along her little head as Jack cut the cord.

You lay a little kiss on her head. You felt a little dizzy and out of breath but you were pretty sure that was normal.

“What do you think? Eleanor or Rosie? You said you’d know when you saw them.” Jack asks eyes on his little girl. You did say that, but you couldn’t think right now. Closing your eyes, you suck in a deep breath but it feels like you can’t quite catch it. 

“Jack-” 

“Code blue, she’s crashing. She’s bleeding too much.” 

Completely confused, Jack looks up from his perfect little girl to the doctor who was still between your legs.

“Clamps. And get them out of here.” the doctor says and when Jack looks up at you, he sees your head hanging to the side, eyes closed as the nurses hurry to get the baby off you. 

“Baby! Are you okay?” he cries reaching for you, shaking you a bit but you weren’t moving. He wasn’t even sure if you were breathing and before he could check he was being ushered away.

Ellen calls out to you as well but someone grabs her as well, pushing both of them out of the room.

“Sir we need you to wait outside,” the nurse says but Jack rips his arm away, trying to go back in.

“No, I wanna know what’s going on with my wife!”

“She’s bleeding, and the doctor is doing everything that she can. You can’t be in there while she does that. Please just let us do our jobs.” she says and shuts the door in his face.

 “It’s gonna be okay Jack.” Ellen says, her voice trembling as she embraces him. 

“She needs me,” Jack argues

“It’s okay. Let them work on her.” 

-

Seconds turned into minutes and still there was no word. You had to be okay. Jack couldn’t do this without you. People didn’t die during childbirth anymore…did they? He really should’ve finished that damn book. Closing his eyes, he ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart and slow his breathing but it didn’t work.

The door finally opened, but it was only for a nurse to bring out his daughter. His daughter. Those two words should fill him with utmost joy but he couldn’t think about anything but you. Closing the short distance between him and the nurse who was pushing his daughter in a little bassinet, he stopped her. 

“My wife, is she okay?” 

“I don’t know sir. The doctor will be out in a moment.” the nurse says without making eye contact. “Would you like to come with your baby?” 

“I need to know about my wife. Mom,” he says, turning to Ellen.

“I’ll go,” she says, walking away with the nurse.

Jack wasn’t sure if he made the right decision. Should he have gone with the baby? Is that what you would want? No. He needed to know you were okay first.

When the door opened again, he had to take a step back as a nurse came out, pulling your bed with her. 

“Baby?” he gasps and swallows thickly when he sees the blood stained sheets. He’s never seen that much blood.

The nurses just wheel her past him as the doctor finally comes out. 

“Is she going to be okay? Please just…tell me something.” he begs.

"I don't know yet. She lost a lot of blood and she won't stop bleeding. So we are taking her to the OR for a transfusion and to see if there is a tear in the uterus that's causing the bleeding. It could be a number of things, but I won't know which until I'm there."

“Is she gonna be okay?” he asks desperately

“Jack, I’m sorry but I can’t answer that.”

“Please, she’s everything to me. I need her.” 

“I know. I’m going to do everything I can.” she says and runs down the hall, leaving Jack standing there, his mind going a mile a minute.

Taking a shuddering breath and swallowing hard, Jack covers his face and walks backwards into a wall, the hard surface giving him the support he needs. Jack couldn’t even really fathom what had just happened. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why was this happening?

“Jack?” 

Lifting his head he sees Quinn and Luke racing towards him, Trevor on their heels. 

“Mom texted from the nursery. Are you okay?” 

Jack couldn’t even answer them. He couldn’t say the words out loud, as if not saying them would make them less true. 

He just fell into Trevor and thankfully his friend caught him, wrapping his arms around him and holding Jack up as his cries filled the hall.

“They don’t know what’s wrong. She won’t stop bleeding.” he says against Trevor’s shoulder and he feels both his brother’s hands on his back.

“It’s okay, she’s gonna be okay. She’s the strongest woman I know. It’s okay, just breathe.” Trevor says, his own voice frantic as if he’s trying to convince himself. 

“Where is she?” Quinn asks, and Jack shakes his head, backing away from Trevor as he sucks in a breath, not meeting their eyes as he says, “In the OR”

None of them said anything. They stood there awkwardly, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. 

“Cole is on his way,” Trevor says and all Jack can do is nod.

Jack could sense everyone's anxiety, including his own. There was only one word being repeated in his head. Please. Please don’t take her away. Please don’t let him lose the one person he loves the most after it took him this long to find her. Please don’t let his daughter grow up without her mom. Please. Jack didn’t really know who he was pleading to. God. Anyone who would listen really.

Finally, a nurse came up to them, her face filled with worry. “Mr.Hughes, there's a waiting room by the OR you can wait in.

“Do you have an update on my wife?” 

“No, not yet. I’m sorry. Please follow me.” she says, looking away. 

Together, the guys walked to the surgery waiting room and while Luke and Quinn sat with the rest of the family, Jack stood by the door with Trevor right beside him. 

He had a perfect view of the door to the OR from where he was standing and he wasn’t moving until he knew you were okay.

Looking back to Trevor, Jack swallowed hard. Trevor wasn’t normally the serious type, but he looked as stricken as Jack felt.

Fighting against the sting in his eyes, Jack leaned his head against the door frame and said, “I have the most beautiful little girl.”

Trevor nods, his hand coming to rest on Jack’s shoulder. “I heard, congratulations man.” 

“I didn’t go with her. Does that make me a bad dad?” 

“No. It makes you a great dad because you’re protecting her mom.” and Jack nods, tears flooding his eyes. Neither of them say anything after that as they continue to wait. None of them were prepared to wait as long as they did.

“Should I go check on the baby? Do you think she’s okay?” Jack asks 

“Mom said she’s fine. Healthy.” Quinn says 

“She’s the cutest little thing. Obviously takes after her mom.” Cole says teasingly and Jack smiles.

“Obviously.” Jack agrees, his smile fading a little. 

His head was aching and his heart was heavy. He couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t gonna make it. Jack wanted to be optimistic but no one has said anything…and the longer he waited the less hopeful he felt. Was this what his life was going to look like without you? Forever seeing the negative in things…hopeless.

“She didn’t even get to name her. What should I do? I can’t name her. I suck at naming things.” Jack states frantically looking around the room.

“Dude, she’s gonna name her. Don’t worry.” Quinn says.

Jack slides down the door, sitting on his haunches, his face in his hands as he breathed in and out, thinking.

When Trevor came and stood next to him again, a hand on his back, Jack’s tears fell faster. 

“I don’t know what I’ll do.” 

“Don’t think like that. She’s gonna be fine.” Trevor says, his eyes filled with the hope Jack was lacking.

“And if not?” Jack whispers

“Then we’ll raise her. As a family. I mean I’m not even half the person your wife is, none of us are but between all of us I’m guessing little nugget will turn out half decent.” Trevor says and Jack chuckles. 

But a world without you, wasn’t a world where Jack wanted to be. 

Swallowing hard, he looked up right as the door opened and the doctor walked out. He stood up quickly as the doctor walked towards him, letting out a long breath.

“Doc, please tell me she’s okay.” Jack begs.

“She’s stable. We were able to stop the bleeding and replace the blood, she’s going to be just fine.”

“Thank you.” Jack whispers, his voice trembling.

“Of course, I'm sorry I couldn’t give you more earlier, it happened very suddenly and my only priority was to save her.”

“And she’s gonna be okay?” Jack asks

"Yes, she'll heal fine. We'll monitor her once she's released for about the next month or so, but she should make a full recovery.”

“When can I see her?”

“She’s in recovery right now, she should be awake in the next hour or so. A nurse will take you to see her.” the doctor says and Jack thanks her again.

-

“You’re so pretty.” was the first thing you heard when you woke up. When your eyes finally adjusted to the lighting in the room you saw Jack standing next to your bed, looking down at the little bundle in his arms.

“Might even be prettier than your mama. Don’t tell her I said that” Jack whispers and you smile.

“I heard that,” you say, voice a little scratchy and Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours as he walks closer and gently lays the baby in your arms. 

Jack felt his eyes tear up and his heart swell seeing his two girls. 

“She’s perfect.” you whisper

“Just like you,” Jack says, his voice breaking and tears dripping onto your head as he kisses your temple. 

“Don’t cry.” you say reaching up to wipe his tears.

“I thought you were-” Jack cuts himself off, not even wanting to think the thought. 

“I’m okay. We’re all okay. I love you.” you say and Jack smiles down at you.

“I love you. More than you’ll ever know.” 

The day was far from perfect, it was three weeks too soon and it was filled with uncertainty and it wasn’t particularly a day that Jack wanted to remember, but it was the day that his Hope Eleanor Hughes was born and he spends every year thankful that he gets to try to replace the bad memories of that day with good ones.

[toxycodone]

oviposition anon teehee i wanted to elaborate more last night but i was tired as fuck and zooted off the penjamin. but like getting separated from the rest of the party and encountering the slime creacher alone with Laios.... you think he'd tell you what the thing is? im sure he knows alllll about it, like he has a private little list of all the most fuckable monsters and of course the damn oviposition slime is on there. do u think he just dives right in head first, or does he try to create some kind of plausibly deniable situation in battle? youre terrified cause you cant make heads or tails of this creature in order to kill it and arent strong with fire magic but.... why does he look like he's having fun? and is that his clothes getting dissolved in there....? and why is he so hot all helpless suspended in the pink gel (ive just now decided the slime is pink), shuddering with pleasure as each near transparent egg enters his body? if you were to get caught by it without knowing what it is i dont think he'd leave you in there, but when he pulls you out of the goop his raging hard on is impossible to ignore and just BEGS questioning.... maybe you need to go seek out another one? or maybe i need to get writing

LISTEN TO ME. ANON YOU ARE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ONTO SOMETHING. (And I would 100% be down to read something full about this bc oh my god???) and pink slime is the superior color you’re based.

contents: monster fucking, mutual masturbation? if you can call it that?

When you two encounter the slime, Laios is oddly…excited? I mean, he’s always excited to see monsters, but this. Is different. He doesn’t brandish his weapon or look stiff at all when you two encounter it, so you put away yours and you’re like…what the fuck is the deal man??

Laios looks between you and the slime. After a few moments, he casually walks to you.

“Well…um…this slime. They’re usually aggressive, but, you can tell by the color that it’s breeding season. And they’re unusually docile when this occurs…”

So you’re like? Okay. Awesome. No fight required. Let’s get out of here.

But Laios taps his fingers. He looks away a little as he plays with his thumbs.

“You see…it’s docile. But it doesn’t mean we can just leave. Unless we want to find another route. But it’s going to keep going until it eventually finds an adventurer…to use as a host….”

And you’re kinda like um? So do you wanna kill it? Or

And Laios is like “I HAVE AN IDEA. So…the secretions of this slime numb pain and promote healing. If we help this slime out…we can get some of those. It may be useful when Marcille’s out of mana….” Laios then puts his hands on your shoulders and looks at you seriously. “I PROPOSE…we let this slime use us as hosts. And in return, we collect its secretions and save any other unaware adventurer an encounter with it!”

And you’re floored. But once he explains to you, it’s just eggs (they lay them in adventurers to spread their kind to other floors). And it’ll feel *good*. You put your hands on your hips.

“Let me guess. You’ve been waiting for us to encounter this monster, huh….?”

*Cue that iconic Laios blushing panel.*

Anyways, you accept. Laios gives you the rundown from his guide and notes from his journal. First, you have to remove your clothing. The slime will get them soaked and likely tear them to shreds anyways, and if you don’t have a spare you’re screwed. Then, the slime’s secretions will coax you into relaxation. You’ll feel yourself go limp, but it’s not a bad thing. It’ll just make it easier for this whole process—so don’t fight it. Lastly…just enjoy? The slime does all the work and the eggs aren’t dangerous. You’ll pass them in a few days when the incubation period has succeeded (Laios wants to keep one or two to eat, but he doesn’t explicitly say that now).

And so you agree. It seems…oddly fun. Neither of you get time to really do anything sexual while dungeon crawling. And this seems like a good release.

And so you let it happen and it’s fucking MIND BLOWING. The slime’s secretions are absorbed through your skin as it surrounds you, making you feel some weird mix between drunk and high. Your body is limp, but everything you feel is extremely heightened.

The slime teases you all over and gently prods at your holes before slowly opening you up. (if you have a cervix) it’s numbing properties keep it from hurting as it spreads you open and pumps its eggs into your womb/hole. It’s honestly one of the best experiences you’ve had.

It’s like. Some sort of ethereal mutual masturbation experience with Laios, because when you look at him his skin is almost as pink as the slime. His brows are furrowed, eyes shut tight as he moans wantonly, not a care in the world. You can tell when an egg is laid in him bc his face contorts, but then his licks his lips and lets out a shaky moan. There’s already streaks of white in the slime and you’re not sure if it’s just a ton of precum or if he’s already came from the slime.

But you don’t have a lot of time to think about that before you’re shuddering from your own orgasm. It seems the slime coaxes as many as it can from you and Laios—as the more you relax and enjoy the experience the easier it is to continue pumping eggs into your system.

And afterwards, the slime resumes its usual light blue color and withdraws from you two. If you weren’t mistaken…you’d think it was blushing….theres two pink patches left on its “cheeks” as it slithers away, streaks of cum and slick still present in its body.

And. Of course. In typical Laios fashion, while you two are coming back to your senses, covered in slick and slime and who knows what else. All he can do is look at you with that same dopey lovestruck expression and mumble about how much he loves you.

[lettersofgold]

-> redemption | prologue | trent alexander arnold

trent a. x black!fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, minors dni | authors note: happens in a world where trent is injured, klopp isn’t retired, and contracts exist for medical staff at anfield on match days. just walk with me!

warnings: mentions of injury, brief mentions of depressive feelings

summary: gaffer knows best - at least that is what klopp tells himself by playing matchmaker. it was obvious trent wasn’t doing well after being injured during the season, and klopp knew his god-daughter was the right choice for a little bit of redemption. neither you nor trent could admit that you enjoyed each other company so instead, you snark at one another through his recovery process until his rehabilitation was for just more than his physical injury - it was for his love life.

Trent knew he knew best for himself. He was certain of that from a young age - he knew who he was from a very young age. From the moment he stepped onto the pitch to the moments he closed his eyes - his mind was on football. Every facet of the game was running through his mind and he never wanted to let it go. The mere thought of not playing football made him feel lost and the frustration only doubled at the knee brace that prevented him from even bending his leg as he walked into Klopp’s office. He chewed his gum tensely as he sat in the chair, stretching out his unbending leg, waiting for Klopp to finish a phone call. Klopp put his finger up signaling a few minutes before things would get started.

“Perfect, he just came in.” Klopp said.

Trent eyed the office and thought of the years he spent alongside his gaffer, who he was and how Klopp shaped him as a person. In his wildest dreams he never imagined being as close to his literal boss as he was now. He was blessed in almost all aspects of his life but it didn’t stop the emotional rollercoaster of grief over this injury. It was the worst one yet - there was no immediate bounce back or playing through it. It wouldn’t cut it this time. Klopp sighed loudly and ended the phone call, leaning back in his chair and interlocking his fingers behind his head. Trent couldn’t place the emotion in Klopp’s ease but he smiled softly anyway, hoping that this conversation was going to be a good one.

“How're you feeling?” Klopp opened up the discussion. Trent shrugged his shoulders out of habit and apologized. He never meant to be short with anyone but it was a habit he had since he was a young child. If he was having a bad day he would go non-verbal, almost disappearing into himself and into a whole new world inside of his mind. Trent huffed because he was unable to find the words once again to describe the adjustment he was facing of not being able to play football.

“Been better.” That was all Trent could muster up as a response. There was no use in fabricating an answer that Klopp wanted to hear - Klopp always wanted the truth. No matter how bitter it was delivered. Trent was similar in that sense but he had yet to master the precision of navigating his emotional state the way Klopp had. Trent admired him for that among a list of many other things.

“I can tell.” Klopp interlocked his fingers on his desk before continuing. “You’re not yourself. I’m concerned.

“I’m not on the pitch so I’m worth nothing to the club.” Trent scoffed out his insecurity.

“Not true and you know it. I’m going to have you go to a rehab specialist for treatment and for a bit of pain management. It’s not ideal to have you work outside of the club but I trust this Doctor.”

“How’s that? I’ve got my own trainers and gym, that’s all I need, really.”

“But it’s not just about what you need physically, Trent. You haven’t been yourself. Not for a time since you’ve been injured. Look,” Klopp adjusted his cap further down his head, seemingly struggling with what he was going to say. “Give it a few weeks ”

“A month?” Trent questioned in shock.

“However long it takes is my guess.”

It was confusing to hear Klopp denounce the trainer that Trent’s agent perfectly crafted that even the Liverpool staff appreciated.

“You may not see it now, but it’s for you. It’s the right place, the right people.”

“Let me guess, ‘s the right time too?” Trent asked with a halfhearted smile.

“Glad you get it.”

—

TWO WEEKS LATER

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude.” You snapped at the man across from you. Trent’s eyes snapped to attention before he rolled them - who knew a simple request could send a grown man into such a spiral. You learned that his ability to hide his emotions was either terrible or he just genuinely didn’t care if someone could sense how stupid he thought they were and it it hurt their feelings.

“Gotten pretty far I think.” He countered, gently sweeping his legs over the table to place his sock covered feet on the floor. You grabbed his forearms to steady him as he placed immense pressure on his brace-free leg for the first time since the injury. Trent was reluctant to allow you to help him on this monumental moment but you learned to no longer give Trent the option. If he thought he had a choice, he would run from any assistance. So now, you told him what to do, leaving no room for him to argue but it didn’t exclude his snarky comments. You began to withdraw your grip when he bobbled and urged you to stay. It was almost endearing.

“Don’t - don’t do tha’” He took one more step forward as you took one step back, matching his pace. With his eyes concentrated on his steps and the tip of his tongue out touching his top lip, he resembled an overzealous toddler.

“Don’t do what?” You asked, sliding your hands down his forearm slowly. You wanted to test his balance but you couldn’t outright say it. Despite the act he put on you could see the uncertainty in his mind. Recovery was a harsh reality, especially for a usually fit and healthy athlete.

“You keep moving away!” He argued, picking up his pace. Trent didn’t realize in the slightest that you were testing his mind, his pace, and his ability to balance. “My god, that’s annoying ya know.” He continued on and you added a bit of resistance to get him to use his legs. If he was healed, he would have the ability to bull doze you but he was injured so it was much easier for you to combat the weight of his body.

“It’s my job, Trent.”

“To annoy me?”

“To help you, idiot.”

“So the annoying bit comes free, yeah”

“Shut up and walk.”

“I’m tryin!” Trent babbled on and on. He was so focused on his steps that genuinely didn’t notice the lack of grip you had on him. The movement of his knee was healthier than it looked a week ago - the drainage of the fluid was paramount in speeding up his healing.

“Would ya look at that, the two of you’s are getting along well.” Quincy commented as he rounded the corner with two tape rolls in hand. Quincy was a few years older but was the assistant physician behind the owner and boss, Dr. Moore. Quincy stood beside you bending at the waist to examine Trent’s pale knee. “Doin’ good lad.” He complimented but Trent continued to focus on his steps.

“Quincy, who’s next on the schedule?” You asked your co-worker and you tried your best to listen to his run down of the rest of your day but the loud mouth scouser in front of you wouldn’t stop grumbling. You came to a halt and placed all your weight into the ground to keep him from moving you. “Put you bad leg out and push, as if your are pushpin against the wall”

“You comparin’ yourself to a wall?”

”Trent, you sure know how to make a girl feel great about herself.” Quincy shook his head and took to cleaning off the physio table near Trent’s.

“Right, you’re done.” You said and he frowned. Trent dropped his arms, placing his hands on his waist line. His shorts were low on his hips and his compression shirt was extremely tight. The veins in his arms thumped bulged, accentuating the carved muscles in his forearms. You squinted at him with annoyance because you knew that he was in denial about his self-imposed goals - Trent was too ambitious for his own good.

“Done?” Trent’s pout was reminiscent of a kid being told recess was over. He had a hard time keeping up with the strength training part of his rehabilitation. He wanted to move straight to running drills and kicking a football.

“Yeah.” You said as if it was obvious.

“Could run some drills…try out more movement.” He tried to bargain knowing what he mentioned was fully out of his league. In Trent’s mind, the baseline of the average patient isn’t him.

“Trent.” You snapped your fingers, motioning towards the table with your pointer finger that he needed to sit down. “Let me tape you so that you can leave and I can work with my patients who actually appreciate me.”

He took his sweet time getting on to the table - you weren’t sure if it was from genuine pain or from him being absolute childish. With a glaring stare of disappointment he sat quietly as you worked on taping his knee. Normally you would have asked how his pain ranked on a scale of 1-10, which he surely lied about each time, but his wincing was all that you needed. Trent drummed his fingers on the table in an odd rhythm and began to hum to himself. You blocked him out as you always did, focusing on stabilizing his knee to a point that wouldn’t hinder him from attempting to walk - which you knew he would try despite being told it wasn’t smart to do.

“Appreciate you?’ Trent said in between a wince. “I appreciate you.”

“You just called me a wall,” You laughed lightly. “That’s a weird way to show it.”

“You said it first.” He countered like a literal child. His eyes were so round and bright. Every single time you looked at them you could sense that his childhood was getting whatever he wanted.

“There’s no use arguing with you. Pot, kettle, black.” You finished and took your fingertips slowly from his upper quad, to his knee, all the way down to his ankle. You could see the goosebumps forming on his tone, surprisingly soft, skin. “Feel good?”

“Hundred percent.”

“Are you lying?’ You turned your back to him and began grabbing the tapes wrapping and tossing it to the waste bin.

”Maybe.”

“Mmk, goodbye. See you Wednesday

[joeyalohadream]

ooh for the fic drabbles, bucky learning that buck is extremely ticklish somewhere! he didn’t notice before because maybe it’s a bit of an odd spot like the backs of his thighs or something 🥰

Now that I published my long fic, I can go back and finish all the lovely requests I've received!

This one was cute anon! Thank you, enjoy!

Word Count: 863

Bucky released Gale as gently as he could, which if the annoyance on Gale’s face was anything to go by, wasn’t very.

“Sorry,” Bucky laughed and moved to sit back on his cot, across from Gale’s.

He observed the younger man with a smile on his face, taking in his mussed hair, his flushed cheeks and the slightly hazy look to his eyes as he glared at Bucky.

“Knew you’d be a lightweight,” Bucky grinned.

“I had three drinks,” Gale protested.

“You had three beers,” Bucky corrected, and then proudly declared. “I had three drinks, and three beers.”

“Well, you’ve had more practice,” Gale grumbled as he sat up, swaying slightly.

“It’d be easy to get you more of that,” Bucky pointed out.

Gale shook his head, “Absolutely not. This,” he gestured to himself, “was a one-time thing. Don’t know why I even agreed to it.”

Bucky pouted at him.

“’Cause you forgot it was Curt’s birthday and told him you’d do whatever he wanted,” Bucky helpfully supplied.

“And he’s an asshole,” Gale stated, the seriousness of his tone making Bucky bark out a laugh.

“He just wanted to see you let loose, Buck,” Bucky defended. “Can’t blame him.”

“Well, if he’d let me let loose with three ginger beers instead, we’d both still be at his birthday celebration.” Gale pulls his tie loose and out from under his collar. “You could still be there you know.”

“And let a beautiful thing like you walk back to base drunk, all by your lonesome,” Bucky puts a hand to chest, mock offended. “What kind of a gentleman do you take me for?”

Gale throws his tie at him and gives him his best glare, but Bucky can see the smile trying to pull at his lips.

Bucky watches as Gale leans forward and then sits right back up, eyes closed.

“You good?” Bucky questioned, leaning forward himself.

“Now I see why you always need my help getting your boots off when you come back drunk,” Gale swallows heavily.

“Can’t even untie your shoes, John, how are you going to fly a plane,” Bucky does his best impression of Gale’s low voice, even as he’s getting to his knees and reaching for Gale’s left foot. “Not so competent now, are ya Buck?”

A hand swats at the top of his head and he ducks, laughing all the while. It feels good to laugh with Gale.

He unlaces Gale’s left shoe and then his right, waits a moment for the other man to toe them off and then decides to complete the process when Gale remains loopy and unhelpful above him.

He goes to grab Gale’s left calf to pull his leg up off the ground and give himself leverage to remove his shoe, but as soon as his fingers grips the toned calf, Gale chokes out a sound that Bucky’s never heard before and jerks his leg out of Bucky’s grasp.

Bucky reels back, worried that he hurt him, worried that Gale’s been hiding some invisible injury from him as he scrambles to his feet. But when he looks down at Gale, he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. He looks like he wants to die of embarrassment.

“What the hell was that?”

“Nothing,” Gale tells him, ducking his head.

He thinks back on the noise again. It wasn’t pain he’d heard now that he really thinks about it. It almost sounded like a laugh. Not Gale’s usual quiet huffs when he finds something amusing and not quite the loud bark of belly laughter that Bucky’s only managed to get out of him once, but a cross between the two.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him.

“You’re ticklish,” he accuses.

“M’not,” Gale denies, a little too quickly, and Bucky grins.

“You are!” He declares and then he goes back to his knees so fast, Gale doesn’t have a chance to stop him in his slowed, inebriated state. He gets his hand around Gale’s left calf again, digs his fingers in and delights as Gale giggles.

He keeps his grip strong as Gale attempts to pull his leg away and delights in the laughter erupting from Gale. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s adorable.

“Bucky,” Gale chokes out between laughs, “Bucky, stop. John, STOP.”

Bucky relents and lets go, sits back on his heels and watches Gale wipe tears from his eyes. When Gale looks down at him, he gives him his most innocent grin.

“You’re a jackass,” Gale grumps at him.

“I’m your jackass though,” Bucky smiles.

“You guys are so fucking weird,” Curt grumbles from the doorway. They both startle and look his way.

“How long have you been standing there?” Gale asks, face heating.

“Too fuckin’ long,” Curt grumbles. “Come on Bucky, my birthday ain’t over yet and you owe me a game of darts.” He walks back out the door and Bucky smiles sheepishly at Gale. Thankful the worst he’d been caught doing was tickling his best friend.

“Hey, at least I went the gentlemanly way and tried to take off your shoes instead of your pants, right?”

“Get outta here,” Gale swats at him, but he’s smiling so Bucky is too.

[onelittlespiral]

Hey hi, I need your help asap! I was talking with my roommate and he told me about your new special deal. And I wasn’t really interested but my roommate let slip that he was gonna ask you to turn me into a nymphomaniac hunk for him. And I don’t want that, so I rushed to write to you. Please can you turn my roommate into anything that will prevent him to turn me, maybe show him a taste of what he wanted to force me into? Thanks a lot!

Subject: Customer Service Ticket #3478

Dear (REDACTED),

We hope to alleviate any concerns you have about our services. However, at this time, we are unable to process any changes regarding Order #100765. Any changes will need to be made by the authorized purchaser. If there is any other way we can be of assistance, please feel free to contact us at the number below. Otherwise, we know that you’ll soon be satisfied.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

One email and I was left in a panic. I can’t believe my roommate would try to change me. I called the number included on the email, dialed 2 for customer service, and waited as the hold music played. All the while I was left thinking. We had the usual quibbles about dishes and cleaning up and all that, but committing to the kind of shit he had laid out in his order? It had to be some kind of prank. I was just in circles, kept thinking how there must be a way to cancel the order. All the while I was listening to instrumentals of jazzy horns and synths. You waited five, ten, twenty minutes on the line, hoping for a response. You had other plans today, but this had shot those down. You could only sit, wait, and listen.

After 30 minutes of waiting and stewing, someone finally picked up on the line,

“Hello, is this (REDACTED)?”

“Yes! Finally. I have been waiting forever. You’ve got to help me man.”

“I’m sorry to hear you have been waiting so long. Have you been just listening to that horrible hold music for half an hour?” He sounded condescending, like he wasn’t taking my dilemma seriously.

“Yea, now I need your help. I need to cancel an order.”

“Are you sure you need to boy toy?”

The words bounced in your head and your jaw went slack. You feel strange… dizzy and confused. “Huuuh?” was all you could get out.

“Yeah boy toy, just tell me what you need changed? Unless the wait helped you calm down?”

Your mind raced, to think of what you needed. But the more you tried to think, the harder it felt, “Uhhhhh…”

The man’s voice turned helpful, “Well, let’s go over the order just in case, shall we?” You sat and listened as he rattled off details. “Let’s see, we have an order here for a sexy hunk, with an increased sex drive. One of our best lines. That sound okay?”

He sounded confident. Was it really the best? You must have wanted the best, “Yes.”

“Good, so that comes with our lean muscle package, with abs, pecs, and a bubble butt extension. Does that feel right?”

You feel a shift beneath you, and looking down something feels wrong. You weren’t expecting to see perfectly tanned skin, pulled tight against your six pack. As you glide your hand down your form it all feels so firm. So muscular. Your mind tries to think of a reason not to, but you mumbled, “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy toy,” you lit up a bit. You liked it when he called you that. “Now, it also does come with a facial remodel. And I have it in the notes here you want the hair platinum blonde?”

You felt pressure in your face. Your open mouth snapped tight as your bones shaped and remodeled themselves. The pain was sudden and sharp. But by the time you lifted your hand to your jaw, it had stopped. Quickly, the memory faded to the background as you relaxed again, drool pooling out newly plumped lips, “Yuuh.”

“Perfect, perfect. Now, the last change I have here is a priority shift. You want to think only with your hungry hole boy toy?”

The hormone levels in your body jumped as your ass shifted uncomfortably beneath you. You needed to contain it, have some sense of control. Or do you? As you let yourself relax, you began grinding against the ground beneath you. Only one thought was left in your mind: you needed your hole filled. You began playing with yourself, and a faint moan was all that the operator needed to hear.

“I think that’s everything. Boy toy, wake up.” The fog receding in your mind did nothing to mask the horniness. If anything it made the need more clear. “Thank you for calling The Spiral customer service line. Goodbye!” And he was gone.

You barely could manage to navigate your way home. Every man was a distraction, as your mind raced with fantasies of being groped and used. But something within you made sure you made it through the complex door and safely into your apartment. You wanted to just lay down and try to sort out the day. But the man spreading out on your couch stopped you in your tracks.

A small voice in the back of your mind tried to say something was wrong. But your roommate on the couch looked so right. His features glistened in the dim light, highlighting his muscular physique and masculine features. His old, well worn wife beater and grey stained shorts left little to the imagination. And the sloppy demeanor and funk he emanated clashed with your clean and well-toned body. But the way his eyes fixed on you, the hunger and swagger in his gaze, left you weak in the knees. The attraction was instant, and with no willpower left, you buried yourself in his body and began worshiping this pillar of masculine energy. Inhibition was gone as you licked at the thin fabric separating you from your prize. And as he pulled his waistband down and shoved his sweaty cock down your throat, you let his flavor coat your pallet.

“Welcome home boy toy,” he groaned. That’s right. You were his little boy toy.

A buzz came from your roommate’s pocket.

Subject: Order #100690 Fulfilled

Dear (REDACTED)

Your order has been fulfilled. We have also closed Ticket #3478 at this time. We know you have many options, but thank you for the support.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

[iwantdottoresobad]

The Doctor's Little Assistant.

ft. dottore !

sypnosis ; dottore rewards you for your hard efforts.

warnings ; top ! dottore , dottore is a warning himself , face fucking , power dynamics , boss n assistant relationships , degradation , slight praise , facials , light face slapping , lowkey rushed no bullying :'3

wc ; 1.6k. enjoy !!

Dottore's personal assistant. 

You're the only one allowed inside his lab, outside of his clones and his disgusting little lab-rats of course. You're one of the only ones he actually tolerates. You're always so good for him, tidying up his mess of an office when he doesn't ask and always bringing him extra coffee when you know he's running low on it.

He's almost certain he's not gonna kill you off like the others, he likes you.

He likes the way you immediately oblige like you even had a choice when he asks to experiment on you. "I'd be happy to, my lord." You say, giving him a smile and a nod. He knows that you're scared beneath your little act, he can just sense it, and he loves it. He gets off on your pain and fear, and he finds it amusing when you try to hold back your wails of pain. 

Dottore especially loves when you start to let tears run down your face because of how much it hurts. You're left trembling, sniffling every couple seconds as he unstraps you from the vivisection table, but you would be lying if you said there wasn't a part of you that secretly enjoys it. He's a sick and twisted sadist, and you like it.

He thinks you're so pretty with your tear stained face and ruined makeup. He just shakes his head when you complain about it as if you weren't the one crying.

Maybe if you had let him remove your tear glands and ducts it wouldn't be an issue.

Dottore brings you to the fatui meetings too, he knows it's not allowed but he could care less. when Pierro reminds him that, "Anyone who isn't apart of the ranks, is strictly not allowed into the meetings." Dottore ignores him, and he keeps you right by his side, and when he can see your legs getting tired, he orders you to sit on his lap. He doesn't care when you get embarrassed, and he certainly doesn't care that his co-workers look at you two either, his sadistic smile only grows larger.

"You've been a very obedient girl as of recent, haven't you." It was an observation, but you still nod your head as if he just asked you a question while you try to avoid looking at his face. "Stupid little thing. Look at me when I talk to you." Dottore growls. He grabs your jaw with a vice like grip to make you look up at him and even though you can't see his eyes, you can still feel them on you. It feels like all the air has been knocked out of your lungs and you're quick to mutter out an apology. "Of course, my lord.. 'm sorry." 

"Good girl." He praises as he pulls his gloved hand away from your jaw. "I'd say an award is in order, hm?" He says as he starts walking over to a swivel chair that's behind you. You want to follow him but in fear of being disobedient, you stay frozen in place. As he sits down, he calls out your name and you're quick to turn around to face him. 

"Crawl to me."

You stand there for a moment, processing his words, feeling the heat slowly creeping into your cheeks. "Yes, my lord," you manage to spit out. Despite the embarrassment, you comply, dropping to your knees and then shifting onto all fours, moving toward him as instructed. Each movement is deliberate, the anticipation building with every inch closer to him. Finally, you find yourself between his legs, facing him on your knees, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you settle between Dottore's legs, your heart begins to race due to anticipation. You can feel his gaze piercing through you and it sends shivers down your entire body as you wait for his next command.

Dottore smirks, relishing in the control he holds over you. "Always so good," he murmurs, his voice laced with dark amusement. "You know exactly how to please me." You lower your gaze, feeling the weight of his words like chains around your neck. "Thank you, my lord," you mumble obediently, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk only widens as he looks down at you, reveling in the power he holds. His gloved hand reaches out, fingers curling under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The leather feels cold and unyielding against your skin. "You look good on your knees," he muses, his tone dripping with sadistic undertones. "Maybe I should make you my desk pet."

You whine and swallow hard at the suggestion, feeling a mix of fear and excitement coil in your belly. "Please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly and truthfully you don't even know what you're asking for. The way he looks down upon you, like he knows you're inferior to him, sends shivers down your spine.

He releases your chin and leans back in his chair, spreading his legs slightly to give you more room. "You know what to do," he commands, his voice cold and demanding. "Show me how compliant you really are, love."

Oh fuck.

The pet name almost kills you and it makes your breath hitch. You nod anyway, reaching up with shaky hands to unbuckle his belt. You can feel Dottore watching you as you do so and you can feel your face burning with embarrassment. But you push through, determined to please him.

As you pull down his trousers, you're met with the sight of his cock straining against his boxers. it sends a jolt of arousal through you, and you can't let out a soft moan at the sight. Dottore's chuckle is low and menacing, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. "Come on," he urges, his voice low and almost taunting. "You know better than to keep me waiting."

You comply and pulling down his boxers, freeing his cock and you can't take your eyes off of it. You lean in, pressing a tentative kiss to the tip and licking a long stripe up the side. Dottore's grip on your hair tightens, and he lets out a breath of approval. "Good girl," he murmurs. "Now take me in your mouth,"

You comply almost instantly. You open your mouth, taking his cock in slowly with your tongue swirling around the tip. Him in general but especially the taste of him is intoxicating, and you can feel the heat between your legs growing with each passing second. You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and his low groan of pleasure spurs you on.

Dottore's other hand joins the first, holding your head steady as you bob up and down. "Such a whore," he degrades, his voice laced with arousal. "You take me so well. You were made for this, weren't you?"

You moan around his cock, the vibrations making him hiss. His voice and his words a thrill through you, and you try taking him deeper into your mouth, wanting nothing more than to please him. Your pace quickens, your movements becoming more desperate as you lose yourself in the task.

Dottore's grip tightens painfully, and he thrusts his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your throat. "This is what you wanted, hm." He says, and though it was a statement, you still try to nod your head stupidly. In the process you gag, tears springing to your eyes, but you don't stop and neither does he. "That's right, gag on it." His groans grow louder, his breathing becoming more ragged. "You're so pathetic."

Your eyes water as you look up at him, the tears only serving to heighten his pleasure as he loves to see you cry. He smirks down at you, his thumb brushing away a tear that escapes down your cheek. "Pretty little thing.." He murmurs. "Take it, take it deeper."

He holds you there for a moment longer before finally releasing your head. You pull back, gasping for air, your lips swollen and wet with saliva. His chest is heaving up and down while you wrap your hands around the length of his cock. "I'm gonna cum," he groans, "Gonna paint your pretty face."

 Dottore pries your hands away from his cock and begins to stroke himself. You whine at the sight in front of you. "Please," you breathe out. He scoffs in amusement before slapping the tip of his cock on your cheek. "Open your mouth."

You instantly obey, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out. You're gross and messy right now but you know he likes seeing you ruined, especially if he's the cause. You're watching him stroke his cock from above you, pressing his thumb to the swollen and leaking tip. 

Your needy whines must've been just what Dottore needed to drive him over the edge. He groans as he reaches his climax and his free hand reaches for your jaw with a tight grip to hold you in place. Thick ropes of cum soon cover not only your chest, but your face and tongue as well. You keep your mouth open in an attempt and in hope to catch more of his cum on your tongue.

As soon as he comes down from his high, his hand comes down to slap your cheek and command you to swallow the bits that landed in your mouth. You oblige. He takes one more good look at you before tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his pants up. "Clean yourself up." He spits coldly, and you nod. "Yes, my lord."

"When you're done, there's some paperwork I need you to get from The Regrator's office. Once you get it, bring it back here and I'll reward you once more."

[pbnbucks]

Nika x Reader!

The Storm

word count : 636

warnings : cussing, injury.

summary : your at Nika’s Seattle storm game and while shes try’s to show off she accidentally hurts you in the process.

it was everything you could imagine, your sister supprised you with side line tickets for you and her to the seattle storm game against the indiana fever. your sister new how much you adored Nika and how she was the reason you even fell in love with basketball. the game started off with Nika on the bench. 10 minutes before half time she got put in. she was playing amazing but there was one play that caught your eye. she was guarding caitlin and her defense was amazing making it a tough game for caitlin. she had the ball dribbling it down the court and passing it behind her back to Victoria Vivians and Victoria makes a three as the crowd goes wild you scream and clap your hands at the storms teamwork effort returning with eye contact from Nika. She blushes at your praise for the way she played getting cocky and shy she hides her face from you and makes her way to the other side of the court.

a few minutes later you notice Nika is trying to make the similar play she made a while ago that you and the crowd went crazy for. except this time Victoria misses the ball and it flys over her hand hitting you in your lower abdomen making the game stop. you don’t even realize you’ve been hit until the players look at you in shock and you sister asks if you are okay as you hear the crowd and players all say ‘oh shit’ to themselves. you feel the sharp pain and put your hand on it as the teams athletic trainer tells you to come with her to the health office. you go with her leaving your sister court side as Nika try’s to hide from you, you could tell she felt bad. you sit down on the nursing bed as she pulls your shirt up looking at your stomach noticing it was red and already forming a bruise. she talks you through the healing process and hands you a bag of ice. it is now halftime and she leaves to go the team to see if they needed her help.

shortly after she leaves you see Nika out of all people enter. “hi.” “hey?” “im sorry for hitting you with the ball out there. its funny actually i was trying to impress you but instead i got cocky and messed up.” your in total shock because no way ms Nika Mühl just said that to you. “you where trying to impress me out of all people?” she puts her hand on the back of her neck looking down getting shy “yea i saw you celebrating when i did it earlier and i wanted a reaction from you again..” you laugh and start making small talk and after 10 minutes she decides that she has to go but before she leaves she repeats how sorry she id and pulls you in for a hug and forgets that you in pain. you wince at the hug and grab your lower abdomen trying to protect it from hurting more. “oh my gosh i forgot im sorry i should go now” you feel bad for the poor girl shes so clearly flustered by you “its okay ill be fine” she walks towards the door and stops only to look back at you. “you want me to kiss it to make it feel better?” you smile at the girls intent to be sweet. “yeah i would like that a lot actually” she walks towards you lifting your shirt up barely to place kisses on your lower right abdomen. “will i see you after the game?” “i hope so.” and after that she walks away to play the rest of the game leaving with a win and your number.

[theartistisme43]

Chapter Two: The Smell of Copper and Disinfectant

HOSPITAL, BLOOD, PANIC ATTACK, AND GUN MENTION TW:

There was a dense ringing in SMG4’s ears as he floated in a void of numbness, he could hear a distant beep every now and then, and muffled, discombobulated talking…

4 didn’t know where he was, or what was happening… Every time he tried to figure it out, something pulled him into a deeper rest, but he could feel himself getting closer to a light every time he attempted to gather his thoughts.

All he remembered was creating tomato soop, and then… Nothing.

4 tried to get out of whatever state he was in, but he felt trapped and unable to move, as if he was being weighed down by something, almost like…

Sleep paralysis?…

Was he asleep?

The more he thought of it, the more he could hear, the more he could feel, the more he could think.

Just like a knife, memory cut into him.

“I’m sorry, I have to do this…”

BANG!

With a gasp, SMG4 shot up in bed, making Mario almost fall back with a gasp of his own.

4’s eyes refocused as his mind began to process where he was, as they tiredly scanned the area around him.

All of his friends were here, scattered around in his hospital room.

Just as 4 intended to speak, a sharp, horrible pain made him hiss in reaction. He looked down, seeing a gauze pad that was secured by tight bandages wrapped around his chest and back to hold it in place. 4 could feel how tender his skin was under the medical wraps.

“…wh…” He found his voice as he winced hard.

A gloved hand took his, as Mario looked at him with love in his eyes… And an air of sorrow to them too.

“Miei cari Quattro... ero così preoccupata!” The red plumber embraced him, avoiding his wound.

SMG4 enjoyed the hug for a moment, but wondered what all the fuss was about, he couldn’t remember what happened for some reason… Did he have a kitchen accident or something?

“SMG4!” Meggy exclaimed, coming to hug him too. “You’re awake!”

4 attempted to use his right arm to pat her back, but it hurt far too much for him to move it, so he used his left to do it instead.

“What happened?” 4’s question made almost everyone in the room uncomfortable, as a few of his friends avoided looking at him.

Meggy sighed, willing herself to say… Something bad from what 4 could gather from her face.

“SMG4… Do you… Not remember?” She asked softly.

“No, please tell me..” 4 said. “I can handle it, whatever it is..”

“SMG4.” Meggy began, brows furrowing. “SMG3 shot you…”

4 paled, the ringing in his ears returned as his heart began pounding.

Like a train, feelings of grief, betrayal, and heartbreak came hurtling into him.

Now he could remember.

SMG3’s eyes were cold and empty, the way his face looked was like something straight out of a horror movie.

SMG4 tried to brush it off by mentioning his newest meme, but 3 didn’t care, merely raising his gun with the intention of killing 4.

And he shot him.

Watching him bleed out as he lost consciousness…

SMG4 was hyperventilating as he clutched himself, suffering through a panic attack as the previous day’s events became clear.

The very person he had come to trust, come to love, stabbed him in the back. And why? Because he got bored of being good? Because being evil was much easier for him?

“SMG4, it’s going to be okay…” Meggy tried to vocally help him through his attack, but all of the emotions he felt were relentless.

SMG4’s brain couldn’t register anything as a monsoon of thoughts and questions rendered all of his senses useless.

His fingers were practically digging into his skin as his chest heaved, eyes staring into nothing.

All 4 could see in his mind was SMG3’s terrifying expression as he watched him lay there helpless, his own blood pooling around him.

But suddenly… He was encased in warmth, a safe feeling he had felt many times.

Mario held SMG4 close, letting him clutch at his shirt as to not damage himself anymore, like the other times he helped him through past panic attacks.

The meme guardian rode the aftermath of his attack, coming back to reality with heavy yet softer breaths.

“There we are…” Mario muttered. “I got you.”

4 had pushed his body too hard, his ribs hurt slightly from his rapid sharp breaths, and this didn’t help with his still tender injury.

Mario saw something in 4’s eyes fade.. He didn’t know if it was exhaustion, or… Hope leaving him.

As 4 returned to sleep, Mario still held his hand, his heart breaking as he watched someone who was so full of life feel so defeated…

“Gli farò pagare la pena per averti ferito, Quattro, te lo prometto. Non avrò pace finché non lo troveranno..”

Mario had tried to whisper only loud enough for 4 to hear, but his quiet promise was understood by his green brother.

Luigi looked on in concern, as he watched his twin brother begin a tread down a darker path... Grief considered, he wanted 3 to pay for this too, but this just wasn't right... This wasn't Mario.

"Come on guys." Meggy whispered. "Let's let SMG4 rest."

Their friend group had quietly, one by one, left the room, but Luigi stayed put. He joined his brother's side, placing a kind and comforting hand onto Mario's own.

Hurt, angry, tired eyes glanced down, and then up to Luigi's face.

Luigi looked back with a soft and concerned look in his, as Mario silently brought his hand down to his side, away from Luigi's hand.

It would be a fight to get Mario back, but Luigi was willing to do whatever it took to save his brother from his own rage.

"Sono qui anche per te, Mario. Non dimenticarlo mai..."

[destinyc1020]

As harsh as it sounds, tom just wasnt into Nadia enough to feel lik he wanted to continue the relationship. She def was jealous of Z, she constantly unfollowed everything related to her, bt her bf (at the time), was soon going to b filming a hit movie with his ex gf who is beautiful, successful famous and whose billboards she prob saw all over London lmao the jealousy was warranted. Prob didnt help that her bf was mayb in contact with said gf or Nadia knew in someway that he still had feelings for her. Either way she was right cuz a friend (or a friend of a friend?) said that Tom left Nadia for Z n im pretty sure she was telling ppl that 😭 she seems to b happy with her bf so good for her!

Same with Olivia, girl really got a lot of heat bt hope shes good. Tom still wasnt over Z n she knew bt theu were having a good time. How awkward to "date" (or b fwb with) one of yr moms friends daughter n yall nt even last for a yr lmao hope nikki n olivia mom still friends lol

Yea.... I mean, sometimes you just have to let things go and recognize when a man just isn't that into you.

I don't think we can pay that much attention to what friends of friends say. I think it's best to just allow things to be kept btwn the two people who were in the relationship tbh. Only Nadia and Tom REALLY know what happened. We can only speculate.

RE: Olivia...... Tom was definitely rebounding when he was with Olivia (and I would say even with Nadia tbh). I keep telling you all that men (even women) deal with breakups very differently. They usually have flings or get with other women real QUICKLY in order to get over their pain/feelings of heartache. I know it doesn't make sense to US as women, but a lot of times, that's how men process their pain. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Who's to say also that Olivia didn't know it was just a fling or some good sex and a fun time??🤷🏾‍♀️ Not ALL women are looking for something serious all the time.

I just know for ME personally, if I knew a guy had JUST broken up with his gf of X amount of YEARS, there's no way I would be thinking he would be ready for a serious relationship a few months after a breakup. 👀 No way! And the longer he was in the relationship with the prior gf, the LONGER I would assume it would take him to get over it. I would just see it as a fling or a FWB situation and keep it moving. I wouldn't get my heart involved. Easier said than done of course. But that's how I personally would operate. 😄

Also....I think Olivia's mom and Nikki are just fine?? LOL 😄 Isn't this Olivia's mom right here?

By a certain age, most parents know that their kids are adults and can make their own decisions. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[opiumsturn]

My girl..

C.STURNIOLO

EXTREME WARNINGS IN THIS STORY!-Rape,sexual assault,abuse,angst,sexual abuse,// Fluff,caring!Chris,sad ass story

THE RAPE IS WRITTEN IN AROUND MEDIUM DETAIL.

IF ANY OF THE FOLLOWING^ ABOVE BOTHER YOU PLEASE LEAVE NOW. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU CHOOSE TO READ-LOVE NAZ /OPIUMSTURN

I'm at a party with my boyfriend Chris and his brothers.

Everything was going good so far. My friends and I dancing and having drinks every now, and then. I spot Chris sitting down near by the bar, and i decide to walk up to him.

"Hey baby" i say in his ear so he can hear me over the music. "Hey sweetheart whats up?" He asks holding my waist from his lower position "Nothing, 'm just gonna go to the bathroom real quick i'll be back okay?" I tell him holding his arms that reach to me. He nods in approval as i walk upstairs to the bathroom to fix my makeup and hair.

"Hey." A man with dark brown hair who was wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket says to me holding my wrist. I try to move from his grip before he looks around and covers my mouth with his hand before moving me to a room near by. All my screams were muffled and no one could hear me and no one was around.

He throws me on the floor and no matter how loud i screamed no one could hear me. The music was loud nd wouldn't silence for a second. The man walks up to me on the ground picking me up by my wrist as i cry in fear. "LET GO OF ME!" I scream at him but all he does is slap my face. i took me a second to process what he had just done. My face was stinging as my sobs fell down my now red cheeks.

The man lifts me and starts to touch all on me in places that he shouldn't be. Telling me to shush, looking me up, and down biting his lip. All of it making me uncomfortable and wanting to scream but there was no use.

"I want you to take this off." He says moving his hands up and down my dress. I nod no shaking heavily from how scared i was. I didnt want to believe that i was about to get raped.

This was one of my biggest fears ever, I even would get Chris or someone to go with me everywhere even when i need to use the bathroom in public i ask Chris to walk me there or when i go to stores i ask someone to go with me in fears of this happening. Never did i expect it to happen in a place full of people like this. I start to ask myself why i didnt ask Chris to come with me.

I snap out of my thoughts once i see this man start to pull my dress down as i beg him to stop. "STOP, NO,NO STOP" I sob out causing my make up to go down my face. My dress was fully off of me and so were my heels im left in only my underwear as i use my hands to cover my exposed skin.

"Don't cover yourse-" "NO STOP LEAVE ME ALONE." I sob. Nothing worked. The man starts to unbuckle his belt and pants pulling them down to pool around his ankles. My eyes widen in shock as to what he was about to do me. He starts to kiss my neck and tried leaving hickeys but i kept moving around.

He constantly would hit me when i moved but i didnt want him on me after this or ever. He trailed down to my lower stomach pulling my panties down and kissing above my clit. I wanted to scream but nothing would come out.

The man moves me to my knees and pins my moving and shaking hands above me with his hands. He moves himself closer and closer to me making me come in contact with his dick. I move my head farther away from him trying to avoid it but it wouldnt work.

He lets go of my wrists and grabs my head moving me and sliding his dick to my lips. "Come on put those pretty lips to work hm?" The man says. All i could mumble was 'mm m' and nod no before he smacks my face causing my mouth to open from the pain and my crying. He takes this opportunity and slides his dick in side my mouth.

He started moving his hips but my smartest idea was to bite it. I bit down causing his to scream and pull out. "OW FUCK!" He yells. Instead of smacking me he punches me. Right after he picks me up and throws me on the bed and opens my legs slamming into me.

and all was left was my sobs and screams.

A few minutes had passed. The man pulls his pants back up and walks out the room shutting the door behind him leaving me fully naked on the bed. Im still crying my legs were shaking and i couldnt walk from how scared i was. I tried to get up from the bed but fell to my knees. I look around for my small purse on the ground.

I see the bag and grab it shakily unzipping it, and grabbing my phone. I could barely unlock it from how bad i was shaking but i managed to text chris considering it would he impossible for me to speak or for him to even hear me from the music.

My Baby💕

me-Chris pkease hejlp

My Baby- what? whats wrong y/n?

me-Come to the rroom uostaies niw plleassse.

read

A few seconds later Chris walks in the room looking around til he sees me on the ground. "Y/N!?" He yells shutting the door behind him and runs to me worried. "Sweetheart what happened!?" He says trying to sound as calm as possible for me, But all i could do was fall in his arms and cry.

"C'mon baby talk to me please." He begs me. "I-W-was r-raped" i sobbed out. "BY WHO?" he asks angrily. "I-I- dont K-know" i cry. Chris picks me up from the floor and sits me on the bed collecting my clothes from the floor and dressing me back up again, and put his jacket over me. While doing so he had texted who i assumed was nick and matt since they shortly after walked in.

"What happened to her?" Nick and Matt ask. "i'll explain later matt start the car and we're leaving this fucking place." Chris says as nick and matt look at each other in fear and head away to what Chris said to do.

Chris picks me up bridal style following Where Matt and Nick went to go outside. Everyones eyes were on me, my face all stained with make up and tears.

Walking out the door Chris see's Their car right by the house and runs to the car putting me down on his lap as he sits down. Nick and Matt look scared for their lives looking at how bad in shape i was.

"Chris what happened to her?" Matt asks softly with a mix of concern in his voice. "Matt, she was raped okay.." Chris says almost whispering while rubbing my head. Every few minutes he would check on me to make sure im okay.

MINI TIME SKIP

We get to the house and chris almost leaps out of the car before it even comes to a complete stop taking me inside the house and into his room setting me on his bed.

"Princess i'm gonna need you to tell me where he touched you and what he did to you okay?" He says so sotfly as if his voice could break me. "He- uh- he had made me- suc-k it a-and he put it i-in me.." i say between sobs and sniffles. "I swear to god if i find out who he is i'll kill the motherfucker" He said with slight aggression in his tone.

"Okay baby i need to take this off, 'kay? Im gonna run you a bath sweetheart." He says tugging at the bottom of my dress. I nod yes for him to take it off as he slowly removes my clothing and my jewlery.

He picks me up same way he had earlier taking me to the bathroom sitting me on his sink counter turning on the water for the bath to fill up. "Warm water baby?" He says looking back at me. I nod yes picking at the skin of my nails.

Chris turns to me while the bath fills up holding me by the sides of my thigh looking at my face seeing my bruises now that we're in bright light. "Did he fucking hurt you.." Chris asks watching me nod yes. "Oh baby.." he says caressing my face with his thumb.

The bath had filled up by now. Chris picked me up and put me in the water checking on me making sure i was okay before walking to his room and check the drawer where i keep my make-up at his house grabbing the makeup wipes and walking back inside the bathroom.

" 'M gonna clean your make up off ma okay?" He says to me. I nod at him as he walks to the side edge of the bathtub taking a make-up wipe and wiping my face so lightly like i could break if he applied anymore pressure.

MINI TIMESKIP

About and hour went by and Chris had stayed by my side the whole time talking to me and reassuring me i would be okay and that we would get through this together.

I got out the bath and chris had helped dry me off and dressed me in panties and a hoodie before getting into bed and laying me on top of him. "Chris.. 'm s-sorry please dont leave" I whisper. "What baby? no dont be sorry! its not your fault Y/n I promise and i wont leave you ever." He says before we both fall asleep in each others arms.

𝖆/𝖓- This was alotttt!!! Sorry that this was delayed so much im sorry guys!

𝖕𝖊𝖔𝖕𝖑𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖆��𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉!-

@lovesturni0l0s @caydennnnnnn @oliviasturniolo21 @bernardsbendystraws @chrissidepiece @babyalliah-777 @sturns333 @ksturniolo7 @satvisfavetoodles @nyktoxs-lover

[cherryyycosmosss]

Heyy there!! So, um this is my very first post and idk if it's any good but thought I'd put it out there anyway. So if you like it, then I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave a comment below and feel free to request anything else you'd like me to write about :)

The day you first met him.

You clutched your bag closer to your arm as you walked on the cobblestones by the side of the road. It was almost midnight but you got carried away while reading at the library and lost track of time.

As you were walking you felt a strange presence behind you. After contemplating for about 10 minutes, you finally decided to turn around and check for yourself only to find nobody there but when you turned back again, a huge creature stood in front of you. It didn't seem to have eyes, nose or ears but rather these huge tentacles and claws present on what seemed like its face. It had arms and legs twice the size of yours and it reeked of blood.

You screamed holding your hand to your mouth as you took a few steps back letting your bag fall to the ground. You froze in place staring at the creature with wide glassy eyes but woke up from your daze as soon as it took a step towards you. You spun on your heel and started running as fast as you could. You didn't have to turn around to know that the creature was on your trail chasing behind you. You ran into a deserted alleyway but realised that luck wasn't on your side as the alley met a dead end in front of you. You slowly turned around to look at what was going to end your life in a few minutes and backed away until your back hit the wall. Fresh hot tears rolled down your cheeks and your body began to tremble. You whimpered and slid down the wall as the creature began taking steps towards you. You gasped when the creature pulled you towards it by your ankle and used its other hand to hold both of your hands above your head. Your wrists were bleeding from where the creature's nails were digging into your skin. This was the end. You could feel it, this was where you were going to die. You shut your eyes tight and screamed at the top of your lungs as the creature held its hand in air about to swing its blade-like nails into your stomach to finally kill you. You waited for the blow to hit you but it never came and the pain in your wrists subsided as you felt them being freed. Fearfully, you slowly opened your eyes but what stood in front of you now instead of the huge creature was a tall man with fur-white hair who was wearing what looked like a blindfold. You backed away into the wall once again staring at the back of the man standing in front of you who was staring at the creature that was just about to take your life.

"Not very polite of you to attack a girl in the middle of the night like that, don't you think mr.crabface?" he said to the creature who now looked like it was ready to destroy anyone or anything that stood between itself and you.

The creature groaned as it ran towards the man who just saved your life but he dodged the attack removing his blindfold in the process. He muttered a few words under his breath and a blindingly bright light emerged. You heard the creature scream loudly and when you opened your eyes, it was as if the creature had disappeared into thin air. There was no sign of it anywhere around you, like its very existence was ripped into fine dust. The man walked towards you and crouched down to meet your eyes. Maybe it was because he just defeated a giant creature right in front of you or because of the way his crystal blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight, but his gaze made you feel more intimidated than you had ever felt before so you lowered your eyes staring at his feet. Your body was still shaking from all that had just happened.

"𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙣𝙤𝙬, 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚." He said in a quiet soft voice so as to not scare you even more than you already were.

"Can you walk?" He asked when you didn't reply to him trying to get you to look at him.

You timidly nodded your head without glancing at him. You finally looked up at him when he held out his hand in front of you. You slowly placed your trembling palm into his as he helped you get up.

"Y-you're h-hurt." Your said with wide eyes as you felt your voice crack looking at his wrist that was bleeding a little. You took out a piece of cloth from your pocket and tied it around his wrist. His lips parted as he stared at you wondering how his injury was what you were worried about when your own wrists were bleeding much more than his. His heart skipped a beat as he couldn't remember the last time someone's eyes looked so worried for him since he was the strongest after all but the way you looked at him with so much concern made his heart feel so much warmer.

"Come, I'll walk you home" he said with a small smile on his face.

The walk to your home was pretty quiet and you didn't know why but walking beside him made you feel a lot calmer and safer.

"Thank you" you said softly as you both reached your home, "and I'm sorry that you got h-hurt because of m-me" you stuttered as you felt a hint of guilt wash over you.

"Don't worry about it."

"Although I'd love it if you'd rather treat me to a meal or something, you know as a sign of gratitude" he said with a slight tease and a smirk on his face.

"O-okay" you said feeling a bit taken aback but agreed when you realised this was the least you could do for someone who just saved your life.

"So what's your name, pretty?" He asked suddenly realising that he didn't know who you were.

"𝙔/𝙣" you said timidly feeling your cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤, 𝙂𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙎𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪" he replied sensing a warm feeling settle in his chest.

"Alrighty then, I'll see you around y/n." He said waving you goodbye as he walked backwards.

You waved and smiled back at him.

Gojo looked back at the handkerchief that you had tied around his hand.

𝙃𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙𝙣'𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣.

[beesmygod]

i had so much fun writing it, thank you reading!!

trying to think about, sincerely, what purpose this type of story serves and how that would translate into kui's world was really interesting to me. because i do think dateline is providing a "service" more than say, two women making jokes about someone's death who don't know anyone involved. like, just because some people consume them in the same way, doesn't mean they're made equal, right?

people mostly go to dateline voluntarily, all unpaid, even guilty people, because they recognize the team as journalists and believe their story will be told for the viewers. even if they later say they made them look bad or feel otherwise misrepresented, they still consented to interviews because of the sense that this will be *it* for the narrative and they have to have a part of it.

doesn't mean it's not exploitative, that people don't sometimes regret being part of it, that it doesn't retraumatize everyone closely involved, and that the people who refuse to be paraded out get their voices erased, but it certainly has a function and purpose beyond JUST gossip. i wanted to get all the exploitative inhumane painful bits at least touched on but also show why someone WOULD sign up for it anyway... even cithis agreed, when she didn't have to, to try to control a bit of the narrative.

Anyway, glad the idea of a Greek chorus pop-up show was compelling enough to carry it all and thank you for reading about my little elf OCs

sorry i left you hanging my friend, this was one of those asks that required more thought than usual to respond to so i had to let it marinate in my brain and stew for a while. i need a way to signal to people that i got their asks and im not ignoring them, im just Thinkin. then it turned out i had less to say than i thought except "what a cool idea".

i think is a fascinating bit of information from behind the curtain, regarding the thought process behind the work. trying to adapt the societal "purpose" of an ostensibly modern phenomenon like dateline into a lower tech setting while maintaining its structure is something i will be chewing on.