#i'm standing on my own but now i'm not alone

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 AND WHEN I'M BACK IN YOKOHAMA

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

wordcount: 10k; sfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, mentions of mafia business

AUTHOR'S NOTES: at last, we get the first meeting between pm!reader & double black. keep your eye out for two other cameos in this fic ;) i can't remember if dazai and chuuya got their moniker before or during the dragon's head conflict and i dont feel like going to go figure it out so for the sake of my sanity, their little duo started rising in infamy just before the conflict broke out.

“Oh, this is the worst,” you complain quietly, arms wrapped around your waist as you look up and down the abandoned street.

The city looks nothing short of apocalyptic with dead bodies littering the ground and buildings caved in. You can’t help but want to blow up at Mori for calling you back to Yokohama with all of this happening. The “elite squad” he had sent to ensure you arrived at the Port Mafia base safely had been all but decimated by an ability user with a penchant for arson—you only survived by the skin of your teeth, running as fast as you could down vaguely familiar alleys until you finally lost him. 

You pull out your phone, trying to see if you can call Mori but only fall further into despair when you find that you have no cell service and your phone is nearly dead.

Tucking your phone back in your pocket, you let out a shaky breath as you begin to make your way down the street again, trying to figure out where exactly you are so you can get to the base as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before that pyromaniac finds you and your ability isn’t exactly built for self-defense or combat—you’re not sure if you can get yours activated before you’re roasted to death by the man.

You swallow thickly, anxiety beginning to spread through you as you make your way through rubble down the street. What happened? It’s all too reminiscent of that day eight years ago when Mori found you, the death and destruction as far as the eye could see—it drags up emotions you’ve long since repressed and now is not the time for it.

You’d been unable to get answers out of Mori’s men before the ability user attacked your convoy, but it seems as if the city has become a warzone—but over what? How hasn’t it reached the news outlets yet? And who are the combatants? Obviously, the Port Mafia is one of them, and you can guess that Mori called you back to Yokohama because the war isn’t falling in their favor, but who the hell is strong enough to compete with the Port Mafia, and why? 

You sigh, kicking absently at a small rock as you continue down the street. 

You should have been briefed. You don’t know why you weren’t briefed before being called back to the city. Frustrated, you turn down a somewhat familiar alley and lean against the wall, resting your head back against the bricks. You need to figure out what’s going on, but more importantly, you need to figure out where the hell you are so you can get back into safe territory.

You peek your head out to peer around the road—not a soul in sight in the streets, but… your gaze flickers up to the buildings, sliding from window to window until you catch sight of a figure peeking from between the blinds down to where you’re standing in the alleyway. Instantly, they let the blinds fall shut and throw themselves back indoors, but it’s too late—you’ve already spotted them.

You let out a breath of relief, looking both ways to make sure the fire manipulator hasn’t caught up to you yet before darting across the street to the building. It’s an apartment complex—the door leading into it has been half knocked off its hinges, so it’s easy to push it open and step inside.

The whole hallway has been ravaged, doors on the lower floors kicked in to reveal trashed rooms. You have to be careful not to step on glass as you make your way to the stairwell, Third floor, fifth window from the right. Most of the doors on the third floor aren’t quite as done in as the ones on the first, but only one has light peeking out from the crack.

You exhale, letting your eyes slide shut briefly before you raise your fist to knock on the door. “Excuse me! Would you mind answering a few questions? … I just arrived in the area, got caught in the crossfire of some battle, I would really appreciate the help, if you can spare any.” You’re careful to keep your voice light, gentle, and you’re even more careful to make sure your expression is smooth and unassuming when you hear the lock click open.

“You picked a god-awful time to come to Yokohama, child.” You hear an older woman speaking on the other side of the door; she doesn’t open it yet, but now that it’s cracked, you think your ability will work quickly to make her at ease. “Not one of ‘em Strain decoys, are you?” 

The fact that you have no idea what she means by that is infuriating, a reminder that Mori didn’t even bother to warn you about anything before dragging you back here, but you don’t let your frustration seep onto your face.

Strain… Strain… That Australian organization? What the hell are they doing in Yokohama? Why have you been kept so in the dark?

“No ma’am, unfortunately, I don’t even know what you mean by that,” you admit, and when you hear the woman let out a heavy sigh, you know that you’ve won, sending up a silent prayer of thanks as she opens the door to let you in. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

The woman only grumbles, but her eyes are gentle and her wrinkled face is soft as she ushers you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. She’s not alone in the apartment, you notice—there’s a teen boy around your age lingering in the hallway, blonde hair cut short and glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose as he studies you with a frown. 

“What are you doing out here on your own, girl?” the elderly woman asks as she wobbles after you into the main room of the apartment, ushering you to sit down. “Doppo, go get the poor girl some water. Stop acting like a lump, boy.”

The boy looks disgruntled but nods, scampering off into the kitchen as the woman turns her attention back toward you. “Well? Don’t you know? Yokohama’s no place for tourists lately. Where are your parents?”

Your smile falters, mind racing as you try to pick your words carefully. “My father is the one who told me to come back to the city. I was… not made aware of the circumstances I would be arriving in.”

“Men,” the elderly woman spits out, looking up as the boy, Doppo, returns with two glasses of water, handing one to you and one to the woman. “Take notes, boy, you better not end up like one of those useless wastes of air or I’ll put you down myself, understand?” 

“Yes, granny,” the boy replies, and though he still looks distinctly aggrieved, you can’t help but feel amused by the fact that he immediately pulls out a notebook to take notes.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly… happened to the city?” you ask after a moment, taking a sip of the cool water and trying to make yourself a bit more comfortable on the sofa. “I haven’t seen anything on the news about this.”

The woman scoffs, waving her hand. “Of course not, big whigs think that they can keep it all on the low and get it under control before the incident makes it across seas,” she says roughly. “Gang wars broke out after some bastard with a lot of money died. Came in from all over to try to get their hands on the money. Whole city’s being torn apart.”

Interesting, you think to yourself, mind racing as you put together the few puzzle pieces you’ve been given. How many factions are already here? Who are they? Why did Mori call you back here if it’s already escalated this much? Your ability might be key in intel gathering and negotiations, but you’d be useless in combat.

“Our ward is under the control of some organization called the Strain,” the boy tells you. “They’ve been targeting civilians. They-”

Doppo grimaces and looks away, an angry expression crossing his face and you watch as the elderly woman reaches out to squeeze his forearm before looking back over to you. “Boy’s mother was killed by them the night the conflict broke out. I’ve been looking after him since.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you say quietly, but he only averts his gaze from you, looking down at the ground. 

Strain. You were right. You’ve heard a lot of them. They originated in the Australian underground, but they spread rapidly throughout the world—footholds in every major country, stakes in every major world event. Brutal and ambitious, you suppose you’re not surprised they came here if there’s as much money up for grabs as the woman assumes. 

“What ward are you trying to get to, girl?” the woman asks you. “It’s not safe out there on your own. There are no rules or laws anymore, whole city is anarchic. You go out there on your own and you’ll be picked off by Strain.”

“I need to get to my father,” you tell her as you shake your head. The Port Mafia must be in an especially precarious position if Mori is bringing you back after the conflict has escalated this much—your heart rate spikes as worst-case scenarios start to fly through your head, wondering if they’ve been backed into a corner, forced into a position where their only option is negotiations for surrender. Logically, you know Mori would never let that happen, but it doesn’t quell the rising fear. “He’s in Naka-ku.”

You just need to know what ward you’re in and-

“You’re in Kanagawa-ku right now, you’ll never make it through it and Nishi-ku—and Naka-ku is the heart of the conflict,” the woman says as she clicks her tongue. “Stay here. You’ll be safer.”

“I need to get to my father,” you repeat again, “but thank you, really, for the offer and concern… and for helping me figure out what’s going on. I appreciate it.”

You rise to your feet to leave, and instantly, the boy is on his feet, nearly knocking over the woman’s cup of water and promptly getting whacked with a rag in response. The boy winces but takes a few steps toward you, undeterred. 

“You can’t go out there,” he says, green eyes pleading for you to listen. “Just stay. Once everything’s calmed down, we can help you find your father.”

“I can’t stay,” you say quietly, wondering if Doppo’s desperation for you to stay is a result of your ability messing with his head or if he really does just have that big of a heart. You think as a thank you for their help, that you’ll ensure that Yokohama will become Strain’s grave.

The old woman makes another disparaging comment about ungrateful fathers before nodding at you. “Good luck, girl, be careful out there.”

You make it approximately seven blocks before the ability user that you thought you lost catches up to you. You think that if you die here, you’re going to spend the entire rest of Mori’s life terrorizing him as a ghost. You grimace as a wave of flames sweeps above you, you can feel the heat against the top of your head from where you’re using an abandoned car to shield you from the man, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you.

Shit, you sigh, eyes flitting around the street trying to figure out if there’s anywhere you can dart to, but the only other rubble you could hide behind is a tipped-over dumpster in an alley twenty yards away—you’ll never make it that far without something to shield you from the flames. 

You blame Mori. Again. He should’ve warned you about what you’re walking into, and he should’ve sent more than just a group of second-rate losers to pick you up from the station knowing how bad the city is. Now, you’re going to get roasted alive by some psychotic pyromaniac when you should be back in Kyoto dealing with the more pleasant parts of business—wining and dining elites to strike deals and expand the Mafia’s influence throughout all of the societal spheres of Japan.

You grimace as you steady your gun in front of you, using the broken side-view mirror of the car you’re hiding behind to try to figure out where the ability user is because if you can get one good shot off you’d at least have enough time to make a break for it. You just need to focus—the Colonel didn’t put you through all of that firearms training just for you to choke up when you actually need to use it.

Your gaze tracks the man as soon as he comes within view of the mirror. You breathe in and out steadily—once, twice, three times. He’s fumbling with a walkie-talkie, distracted, and you don’t hesitate before taking the given chance. You twist into a kneeling position to face where he’s standing, raising both arms as you aim the gun in his direction; he catches your movement from the corner of his eye, expression shifting into one of anger, but you fire off three bullets before he can retaliate.

Or so you thought.

Your lips part in shock as the man whips a fireball in your direction before he hits the ground—even if you do evade it in time, it’s stronger than the rest he’s been throwing at you, it’ll blow right through the car you’re using as a barrier.

“Shit,” you breathe out, trying to take a step back but your ankle catches on a stray piece of rubble. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting up your leg and as you brace yourself for the flames, you squeeze your eyes shut.

But the agony of burning to death never comes.

Your eyes fly back open when you see someone standing between you and the fireball, the flames fizzling out and dying before they can touch him. They disappear, unable to get past him to you, and your eyes widen in shock. Who on earth… He looks over his shoulder at you, dark-hair flopping in his visible eye—he’s pretty, you think absently, even if a quarter of his face is covered in bandages. You blame your thoughts on the fact that you’re still a bit stunned and confused. 

Then he opens his mouth.

“You must be the precious cargo,” he grins. “We’re here to rescue you.”

“Cargo?” You gape, offended. “Did you just call me cargo?”

“Precious cargo,” he corrects, eye turning up in amusement before he focuses his attention back to the ability user who had attacked you. “Go handle that, pipsqueak. Make yourself useful for once.”

“Shut your damn mouth, bastard,” another male voice spits from behind you, voice riddled with irritation and anger. 

You look behind you to see another boy around your age with orange hair and mismatched eyes. He’s dressed more casually than the dark-haired boy, who’s wearing a black suit and tie beneath his long coat. He barely spares you a look as he steps forward, and you watch as his entire body glows red before he flies forward so fast that your eyes can’t even keep up with him. 

The gravity manipulator. You’ve heard of him through Kouyou—not much, but enough to know he’s probably the strongest ability users to exist in the eastern hemisphere. Does that mean…

The dark-haired boy turns his attention to you, smile widening as he leans over you. He looks unbearably amused at your predicament, and you find yourself growing more and more incensed by the second. 

“Dazai Osamu,” he greets. “You got a name, precious cargo?” 

Oh.

You recognize the name instantly, eyes narrowing, and as if he can sense your sudden change in demeanor, his smile starts to fall. Dazai Osamu. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. Mori brought him in two years ago, if the rumors you’ve heard hold any truth to them—after he sent you away to Kyoto with Kitada Usurai, one of the previous boss’s executives. 

You always wondered if the reason Mori never brought you back had something to do with his new protege—whether it was because he didn’t need you in Yokohama anymore now that he had “the Demon Prodigy” to be his heir or it was because he just didn’t want the two of you interacting. You never really minded; you like being in Kyoto and you like not having to be at the heart of every gang conflict that takes place in Yokohama but you can’t help the bitterness that rises now that your eyes have settled on the boy that took your place.

Before you can answer him, Dazai abruptly goes careening over to the left, hitting the ground hard. The orange-haired boy is standing where he once was, leg extended, and you realize that he must’ve kicked him away. 

“Stay there and die, won’t you?” he snaps, and you glance behind him, trying to figure out if he had already taken care of the ability user that had been hunting you down. Your lips part when you see him crumpled in a pile of rubble, unmoving. “Nakahara Chuuya. You can call me Chuuya. You hurt?” 

He extends his hand to you, and you take it gratefully, giving him your name and letting him help you to your feet. You stumble a bit, your left ankle buckling under your weight, and Chuuya wraps an arm around your waist to steady you. 

How embarrassing, you think, thanking him quietly before easing his arm away, standing on your own even with the pain in your ankle, not wanting to come across as weak. You make your way over to where the ability user is crumpled on the ground, kneeling in the rubble next to him. You lift your fingers to his neck to see if he’s still hanging on, but there’s no pulse.

You click your tongue, having been hoping you’d be able to take him back to the base for questioning, but instead, you let your fingers drift to the symbol embroidered on his jacket and then to the two bars embroidered onto his bicep.

Strain. 

The old lady and her grandson hadn’t been lying.

“You recognize the symbol?” Chuuya asks, wandering over to stand next to where you’re kneeling on the ground.

You frown instantly. “You don’t?” you ask dubiously, eyes narrowing again as Chuuya bristles at your comment.

“The conflict only just started a few days ago,” he says defensively. “We don’t have intel on all of the organizations that have showed up in the city. There are dozens of them. We’ve been more focused on trying to keep the civilians out of the crossfires at this point.”

A mighty fine job they’ve been doing at that, you think sarcastically, mind drawing back to the boy and old woman that helped you earlier and all of the destroyed buildings. You keep the thought to yourself, not too keen on antagonizing one of the people sent to get you out of this hellhole. 

“That’s why he brought me back here then,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else, rolling your eyes as you grab the ability user’s walkie-talkie and rise to your feet. “He’s a member of Strain—one of their lower-ranked ability users, if the lines on his coat are accurate. From what I’ve gathered, they control Kanagawa-ku and Nishi-ku. We should get out of the open before their stronger ability users show up.”

“I can take them,” Chuuya says confidently, looking unperturbed by your comment.

“I’m sure you can,” you say dryly, “but how skilled are you at using nonlethal force against strong opponents?”

Chuuya only squints at you, which is as much of an answer as you need.

“If we want actual, useful intel, we’ll have to capture one of their higher-ranked ability users alive. I can get the information out of them, I just need the opportunity to use my ability.” You rise back to your feet, gaze shifting around the street to try to figure out where you should hide out for the night. “Plus, night is falling, and rumor has it, Strain has an ability user that’s particularly adept with umbrakinetic abilities and I would rather not run into him. I am already tired and wounded, and I don’t know how your gravity would interact with an element unaffected by gravitational forces so we can’t rely on your brute force.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have attitude?” Chuuya scowls, disgruntled by your blunt commentary, and you roll your eyes.

“No, actually,” you say, giving him a thin smile. “In fact, I’ve been told I’m quite pleasant. I’m just in a bad mood because I didn’t realize Mori would be having me return to a warzone when he called me back to Yokohama. I would’ve appreciated a bit of a head’s up.”

Your gaze drifts back to Dazai as you speak, curious, but the boy is already looking at you, a frown on his lips and visible eye sharp. As soon as he notices that you caught him staring, his face smoothes out and he cocks his head to the side, questioning, eye too black and too empty.

Your gaze slides away from him onto what seems like another residential building behind him.

“We’ll stay there for the night.”

You wake up with a pain in your back and a headache. The fact that your ankle doesn’t hurt as badly is only a minimal consolation as you push yourself into a sitting position and rub your forehead, disoriented and confused, trying to remember where you are and why you’re sleeping on a rickety bed.

Your gaze catches sight of a head of orange hair lying in the opposite direction of you, pillow at the foot of the bed and curled close to the edge of the mattress as if trying to stay as far away as possible from you.

That’s right. You’re back in Yokohama. Mori called you back to help with this conflict. Sent the gravity manipulator and the Demon Prodigy after you to make sure you got back to the base. Your eyes linger on Nakahara Chuuya for a moment, watching the way his chest rises and falls, soft puffs of air escaping his lips—he’s fast asleep, dead to the world. So, you let your gaze drift across the room; it’s dark, no lights on in fear of drawing unwanted attention from Strain scouts if they see any sign of life in one of the abandoned buildings. You can only hardly catch sight of Dazai Osamu sitting near a cracked open window, one knee tucked to his chest while the other hangs loosely at his side as he looks outside and smokes a cigarette.

There’s an indecipherable expression on his face—a heavy look in his eyes and a downturn curve to his lips. You watch him curiously for a moment. 

You’ve heard a lot about Dazai Osamu’s feats while stationed in Kyoto: ruthless, terrifyingly intelligent, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It took only a year of him being a member of the Mafia for him to be given control of Mori’s personal covert ops unit, and he’s been producing staggering results since. He’s the one who takes charge of eliminating organizations that you deem unworthy of associating with the Mafia but too problematic to keep around, the one who’s been opening up new distribution and trade channels for you to make use of in negotiations and acquisitions.

You suppose you’ve been working closely with him for a while now, even if the two of you have never interacted until now.

Still, the rumors that have spread about the boy are nothing to scoff at. The head of the Mafia’s interrogation unit—they say no one lasts more than five minutes in the same room with him before cracking. You’ve heard through the grapevine that the lower-ranked mafiosos are more terrified of him than any of the executives—see him as heartless and calculating, willing to sacrifice any one of them if it means furthering the Mafia’s interests. He only views people as tools, there’s no room in his black heart for meaningful relationships. No one trusts him and the longer he works for the Mafia, the darker and more unfathomable he becomes, even in the eyes of others entrenched in the dark—people keep far out of reach of him unless they have a death wish.

You study him carefully from where you’re sitting; he still hangs his jacket over his shoulders, like some sort of barrier from the rest of the world. His expression now is a far cry from the smile that had been on his face when you first saw him; his eye black and eerily still as he stares out the window, void of the gleam that had been in it before he noticed your reaction to his name.

You slide out of bed as quietly as you can, making your way over to where he’s sitting—he doesn’t even notice your approach until he catches sight of your reflection in the window, but even then, he doesn’t turn to look at you, only tracking you through the glass until you come to sit on the windowsill across from him. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You shouldn’t sit at the window,” you finally say. “Someone could spot you.”

His eye is so black right now; you almost feel uncomfortable beneath his stare but you only raise your eyebrows. His gaze pointedly trails down to where you’d joined him and the corner of your lip quirks up.

“Fair enough,” you say and then hold your hand out, silently requesting for him to pass the cigarette over to you. Dazai stares at your hand for a moment and just when you’re about to draw your hand back, he finally reaches out to let you take it from him. Your fingers brush his as you take it between your index and middle fingers, the contact causing a spark to run up your forearm. You lift the cigarette to your lips and take a long drag, tilting your head back against the wall before you tell him, “You should go get some rest. I’ll take watch the next few hours.”

“Not tired,” he replies after a few seconds of silence. His voice is just as cold as the expression on his face, no hint of the playfulness from earlier in the day.

You hum, trying to decide what to say because he’s clearly unhappy and you have a feeling it has to do with how you reacted to hearing his name earlier, so you decide to be upfront, not in the mood for word games. 

“I think you’re unhappy with me because of how I reacted to hearing your name,” you say, laying out the issue. His gaze snaps up to you, sharp and narrowed, lips parting to deny the allegation but you don’t let him. “I was only surprised. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I have a bad opinion of you.”

“No?” Dazai asks, a sardonic lilt to his voice, goading more than anything else but you don’t fall for the trap. 

With your legs brushing, you can’t feel the familiar warmth of your ability circling through you and emanating around you, everything feels cold and empty instead, as if a part of you was sucked into a vacuum in space—the rumors must be true about him being a nullifier. You’ve never had to interact with people without your ability as a fail safe, it’s constantly active despite trying to learn how to turn it off. It’s useful though, it ensures that even if you mess up, the people around you are comfortable enough and amiable enough to not notice. They trust you without you even needing to do anything, adore you just because of the pleasant feelings your ability induces in them.

This is… different. 

And you don’t think in a bad way. You’ve always wondered what it would be like to interact with people without your ability interfering, it’s why you tried so hard to figure out if you could turn it off. And… it's nice talking to someone who’s not automatically endeared to you by your ability, who you can have normal conversation with without having to wonder if they’re only talking to you because you’re messing with their minds. Even nicer than you used to imagine.

“No,” you confirm. “I’m curious about you.”

The corners of Dazai’s lips turn down even more, brows furrowing at the comment. “Why?”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“A monster,” you say the word absently, watching as Dazai goes rigid at it, staring you down. “A demon. It’s what everyone calls you, at least.” 

“... and what makes you think I’m not one?” he finally asks, jaw tight.

Your lips curl into an easy smile again. “If you were a monster, you wouldn’t have been so bothered by the idea of me not liking you. The desire to be liked is an exceedingly human trait.”

Even under the dim moonlight, you can see the way Dazai’s cheeks burn a rosy color at your words. He suddenly looks years younger as he fumbles for words, gaze averting from you back to the window, but his reflection betrays him. 

“I was not bothered by the idea of you not liking me,” he protests, defensiveness creeping into his tone as he snatches his cigarette right back from your hand as if to make a point, giving you a glare from the corner of his eye. “I was not.”

“You were also very clearly put off by the fact that I had no issue with Chuuya,” you note, biting back a laugh at the squeak-like protest that slips from his lips and the mortified expression that follows. “Jealousy, another exceedingly human trait.”

“I was not jealous,” he cries out, a bit too loud because from where he’s sleeping on the bed, Chuuya grumbles out a ‘shut the fuck up’ in his sleep. “I was not jealous.”

“It’s okay if you were,” you say, instead of indulging in his denial. “I’m not judging you.”

“I wasn’t,” Dazai hisses, more insistent now. “I don’t care if you like me or not.”

“Well, I do like you,” you tell him—honest, you’re having fun teasing him.

“You don’t even know me,” Dazai scoffs, cheeks still pink as he pointedly turns his face away from you. “You can’t like me.”

“I want to know you,” you say, tilting your head to the side as you observe him. You like observing things—it’s the easiest way of gathering information. You keep quiet, you don’t draw more attention to yourself than necessary. It’s how you’ve been able to thrive alone in Kyoto even with so many vultures circling you. “I don’t know many other people my age… none, really.”

Something strange crosses Dazai’s expression. Longing but hesitant. Wistful but reluctant, like he should know better but just can’t help himself from wanting. You’re good at reading people, you pride yourself on it; it’s another reason why you’ve been able to succeed in Kyoto alone. Dazai is difficult—he covers half of his face and he’s quick to school the other half when he slips up, but you’re observant. It’s what you’re best at. 

You wonder, maybe, if Dazai has his own vultures. You think he must, he’s young—like you—and it’s probably why he uses his reputation as a shield and wears his long black coat like armor in the same way you use honeyed words and wear a saccharine smile. So, the thought must be scary to him as much as it must be appealing—the desire to have someone see him put against the fear of actually being seen as he is. 

You know it better than anyone.

“Well, you can’t have Chuuya. Chuuya is my dog,” Dazai says firmly, raising his chin. “He follows my orders.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Your dog?” you ask dryly.

“My dog,” Dazai confirms, seemingly quite proud of himself. “I won a bet, and now Chuuya is my dog for life.”

“Must have been quite the bet,” you drawl, watching as Dazai brightens a bit at the topic.

“We had a contest to see who could figure out the culprit of one of our missions faster. I won, of course, because Chuuya is slow and dumb like a slug. A slug. Chuuya is a slug,” Dazai cackles, dark eye shining as his lips curl up into a wide smile, clapping his hands together. “I’m much better than Chuuya, you see. He’s a brute. He’s never had to learn to be smart or cunning because of his ability, so he just punches things around until he gets what he wants. Plus, he’s small—and if that’s not bad enough, he is more arrogant than his tiny body can hold. That’s why he’s my dog. He can’t do anything without his master’s orders.”

Dazai is not subtle in dragging Chuuya down to boast about himself, puffing out his chest like some prideful bird and lifting his chin as he speaks. You think that if Chuuya was awake to hear this, Dazai would find himself tossed right out of the window to fall two stories to the ground, but the other boy is asleep, blissfully unaware of Dazai’s rampage of insults. 

“What happened during the mission?” you ask curiously, a bit interested to know what’s all been happening in Yokohama while you’ve been gone.

Dazai looks surprised as if he didn’t expect you to encourage his yapping. Then, he lights up again. “I’ll tell you all about it…”

You wonder, maybe, if the rumors of his solidarity and inability to form meaningful relationships might not have stemmed from his own volition. Rather, you think they’ve been enforced by the people around him who refuse to give him the time of day in fear of his reputation, because right now in front of you isn’t some twisted and unfathomable wraith of the Mafia.

All you see is a boy the same age as you eager to have someone new to talk to. 

He talks all night. 

From the moment you sat there with him at two or three in the morning until dawn, you don’t think he shut his mouth once. You hardly spoke more than a handful of times, content to just lean your head against the window and listen to him go on about all of the missions he’s had since joining the Mafia a year ago—most of them involved Chuuya, and he certainly made a show of explaining in each one why the mission would have failed without Dazai there to guide it along.

“See. This is why he’s my dog.”

It’s not until Chuuya finally starts stirring as the sun crosses the horizon does he finally quiet down, seemingly not keen on getting himself launched out a window if the other boy happens to hear one of the unsavory stories Dazai’s telling you.

Then again, his first words are pretty much asking for it.

“About time you woke up, slug,” Dazai says cheerfully when Chuuya groans and rolls over, clearly starting to wake up. His dark eye gleams as he waits for Chuuya’s explosive reaction to the new nickname.

“Hah?! What did you just call me, bastard?” Chuuya snaps, although he’s quite slow in pushing himself out of bed, sleepy and disoriented, gaze swiveling around to try to land on Dazai.

“Huh,” you say, more to yourself than them. “He is quite sluggish in waking up.”

“What?!” Chuuya demands, head snapping toward you. 

On the other side of the window bench, Dazai snickers, looking mighty pleased with himself. He looks a lot more his age now, the tenseness in his shoulders has dissipated in the hours he spent talking to you, the tightness in his face has smoothed out. His eye is a lot wider and a lot brighter, the corner of his lip twitching as he waits to see what Chuuya’s going to do next. He sits closer to you now too—or, not closer, really, but he’s extended his legs out a bit as the night drew on until they were all but entangled with yours.

“You’re a slug, Chuuya,” Dazai jeers. “A slug. Because you’re small and slow. Aren’t I so brilliant?”

“I’m going to toss your shitty ass out the window,” Chuuya booms, throwing himself out of bed and darting over to Dazai, who evades Chuuya’s punch by diving off of the window bench, nearly taking you right with him considering his legs were stuffed between yours. “Get back here, you asshole.”

Dazai’s out of the room in an instant and Chuuya is chasing after him, spitting out curses and threats. You sit there for a moment, blinking, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened before just deciding to shake your head and rise to your feet. You stretch, body a bit sore from sitting in the same place for hours and tired from the little amount of sleep you got last night. 

You’re ready to get back to headquarters. You want to sleep in an actual bed and you want to drag Mori for his incompetence and nearly getting you killed. You miss Elise too, even if you don’t really like what she’s become. You’re just happy to not be alone anymore—being in Kyoto was… stressful, at best, and downright agonizing, at worst. You couldn’t trust anyone, not even your ability was enough to protect you there, you had no friends, you were lonely and constantly looking over your shoulder because you had no one to watch your back—even the other members of the Mafia in Kyoto with you would’ve turned against you at any given chance if it meant they could drag themselves higher up the hierarchy. 

You yawn as you leave the room, hearing the distant sounds of Chuuya kicking Dazai’s shit in. You make your way to the front of the building you guys had camped the night out, intent on getting a breath of fresh air before waiting for them to stop fucking around but you hardly get more than half a step out of the door before you’re pushed back hard against a nearby wall.

Your eyes widen when a figure manifests in front of you, particles of shadows knitting together to form a young man who seems to be a few years older than you. You barely withhold a sigh, realizing that despite all attempts to avoid him, you still managed to stumble right into the hands of Strain’s shadow manipulator—literally.

“I didn’t expect the cargo we got intel on to be a girl,” he says coolly.  “I almost didn’t believe it when Anderson reported it to me. Though I haven’t heard from him in hours, I assume that’s your doing.”

“You know,” you say lightly, “this is the second time in less than twelve hours that I’ve been called cargo. I think I like it even less coming from you.”

Though you’ve heard a lot about the shadow manipulator, you didn’t know what he looked like before now—he’s quick and elusive, and those who do manage to catch sight of him are killed by him soon after.. He’s not much older than you, though—two years max—handsome enough, pale blonde hair and green eyes with tan, freckled skin. 

Your lips curve up into a small smile. “Are you going to kill me or are you going to stand here with your hand around my neck? … Just so you know, I’m not into that.”

You watch as—just as you expect—he frowns deeply and takes a step back. He watches you carefully, brows knit together, and you let your ability work. Invisible threads wind around his limbs, curling up his neck twisting into his ears and nose and mouth, they curl up to his brain and take root, leaving him vulnerable to however you plan to use your ability.

You still have to be careful. You have to be subtle. Your ability is useful but it has its drawbacks—the biggest being that if you’re too sudden with it, the person you’re targeting can realize that you’re messing with their head and pull themselves out of it. That would be the worst case scenario because 1) they’d realize you have an ability and 2) you’d be in trouble. 

So you resign to just tilting your head to the side as you smile—some emotions are fickle, positive ones like love and happiness, especially among people like you who don’t often feel those emotions. Negative emotions are easier in that once you send someone into a spiral of fear, paranoia or rage, it’s almost impossible for them to draw themselves out, but they’ll inevitably realize that you had done something to their head, which is not an option because your ability needs to remain a secret.

So you decide to just rely on the passive form of your ability, watching as he falls victim to it, shoulders slumping and muscles relaxing as he eyes you curiously. Your ability is non-combatant, yes, but as soon as combat is over, it comes out to play.

He’d made a fatal mistake when he chose not to snap your neck.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say conversationally, hands behind your back as you tilt your head to the side. “They say you’re one of the strongest ability users in the world right now.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” he says with a frown. “You’re what? Fourteen?”

You blanche. “I’m sixteen,” you protest, forgetting to keep up appearances as you stare at him, aghast. “I do not look fourteen.”

He makes a face as if he disagrees and then shrugs. 

Your eyes bulge. “I do not,” you repeat angrily. “I’m sixteen.”

“Whatever you say,” he says, amused. “I’m not in the business of killing kids though, so I guess I have to take you in. What a bother.”

Your eye twitches. You’d rather die than be taken hostage by Strain and you don’t know where your shitty escorts are so you settle for antagonizing him as a means to stall.

“You’re a high-ranking member of Strain, how are you going to sit here and tell me you’re not in the business of killing kids?” you sneer. “Your organization has been the cause of more child deaths than any other in the world.”

His eyes turn to slits as he stares at you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says coldly. “I put a stop to all of the rings in Australia myself.”

“And what? You think Strain is willing to just take those losses?” you say, an amused laugh bubbling in the back of your throat when anger flashes through his eyes. Your gaze flits down to the five lines embroidered on his jacket. “For an executive, you must not be kept in the loop by the rest of your comrades. The moment you dismantled the rings in Australia, they turned to strike a deal with Bunin—what do you think your branch in Russia does there? They’re helping Bunin expand his trafficking rings through the East and Strain cuts twenty percent of the profit.”

His hand snaps forward to grab your collar, yanking you toward him. “How would you even know that?” he spits, but from the conflict thinly veiled behind his eyes, you know that your words have taken root. 

You raise your eyebrows as you look up at him, a bit too close for comfort.

“How did you know I was coming back to Yokohama?” you counter instead. He lets you go immediately, withdrawing with a closed-off expression. “Come on, we’ve both been betrayed in some manner—you by your organization, me by someone within mine. I almost burned to death because of them and you… you’ve been working for an organization that’s been lying to you for years. Let’s help each other.”

“I don’t even know if what you’re saying is the truth,” he replies tightly. “I don’t-”

“Then go find out,” you say with an idle smile, “and when you realize I’m telling the truth, well… your ability is quite handy, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me again.”

He stares at you for a moment, expression indecipherable, but after a few long seconds, he disappears in the same swirl of darkness that he appeared in and you can finally relax. You let out a heavy sigh as your shoulders slump, lifting your hand to your neck, wincing at the tenderness.

You doubt that will be enough. You’ve heard rumors that he’s Yakuza-born—only ended up with Strain after Mishima’s Sun and Steel went to war with their syndicate—loyalty is always core to those types, runs through their blood—but at least you’ve planted the seeds, and when he inevitably finds out you’re telling the truth, he’ll come crawling back for more information.

And hopefully some information for you in return. 

Your gaze flits to the side when you hear a crash from your left, seeing Nakahara Chuuya fly out of the building, hands glowing red and eyes wide and wild, trying to seek out a man who’s already long gone.

You roll your eyes. “He’s already gone. Thanks for the help, O’Great Protectors,” you say sarcastically. “Really, you guys are amazing at your job.”

Chuuya has the decency to look ashamed, face flushing as red as his hair as he deactivates his ability and looks away from you. “Who the hell was that?”

“Itou Asahi,” you say absently. “Strain’s shadow manipulator—one of the strongest ability users in the eastern hemisphere right now. Mori brought him up a few times wanting me to recruit him. I didn't think I’d get the chance considering we’re aligned with the Sun and Steel and he hates them, but I might have an opening.”

Your look over to Dazai, who only frowns at your words, gaze trained on you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“You’re hurt,” he says, brows furrowed, and you realize he’s looking at your neck.

You drop your hand from where you’d been brushing your fingers against the sensitive skin, feeling distinctly too seen under Dazai’s heavy gaze. You don’t know why you feel a bit flustered, but you do and you definitely don’t like it.

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we head back to headquarters now?”

Dazai frowns like he’s about to protest, but Chuuya nods before he can. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Headquarters is less than a mile away now. The streets that three of you are walking down are safe—none of the organizations have made it this far into the heart of Port Mafia territory—and yet for some reason, Dazai still feels incredibly troubled. 

He hasn’t even been able to join in on you and Chuuya’s conversation. He’s had ample opportunity to considering how much Chuuya is embarrassing himself by trying to act smart, but instead he finds himself trailing behind the two of you, an outsider, too lost in his own thoughts to even think of trying to make a snide comment.

Why is he so troubled?

Dazai isn’t sure and that troubles him too.

He’s always been very in tune with himself. His emotions, his motives, his wants and needs—they’re few and far between, yes, but Dazai has never struggled to pinpoint them at any point in his life. 

He was sad when his ability manifested and his siblings no longer wanted anything to do with him. His ability made them uncomfortable, made them feel empty because it deprived them of their own abilities. They said it was unnatural, and they said he must be unnatural too because why else would he develop such a terrible ability? Dazai couldn’t really blame them, his ability made him feel empty too—he theorizes that when it doesn’t have an ability to suck up into the black hole, it starts devouring anything else it can get its hands on, like his emotions, because he stopped feeling much at all after it manifested. 

When he was twelve, he wanted to learn how to play the piano to impress his mother, though he never got the chance to show her because she was killed soon after. He hasn’t wanted much of anything since then. 

When he was fourteen, his grandfather started pitting him, his siblings and his cousins against each other. His older brother drew the first blood against one of his cousins, and it was a bloodbath from there on out. With both of his parents dead and his siblings and cousins trying to kill one another to be named his grandfather’s heir, Dazai didn’t have much reason to live himself, and he definitely didn’t want to be killed by one of his siblings or cousins. 

So, he thought the next logical step was to die, so he tried to kill himself.

He failed, obviously, and ended up with none other than Mori. He still hasn’t found much of a reason to keep living. Chuuya is around, he supposes, and he’s entertaining enough to mess with—it’s enough to keep Dazai going for now—and you claim to want to know him, so Dazai is interested in seeing how that plays out, but that’s beyond the point. 

The point is that Dazai knows what Dazai wants. Dazai knows what Dazai needs. Dazai knows what Dazai feels. And Dazai currently cannot figure out why Dazai is troubled, so something is certainly wrong and he needs to figure out what it is. 

He hears you laugh at something that Chuuya said and barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Nothing Chuuya says is ever that funny, so you must just be being polite, but it’s still annoying. Mostly due to the fact that Dazai can’t call it out because he doesn’t even know what was said because he wasn’t paying attention courtesy of his current dilemma.

He withholds a sigh as his gaze drops to your neck, eyes focusing in on the dark bruises lining your neck—the fingerprints of that ability user form Strain that attacked you when he and Chuuya weren’t around—and his irritation spikes yet again.

At once, a lightbulb goes off in his head.

That’s what’s troubling him. He’s found himself looking back at the marks on your neck on more than one occasion, and each time, it’s triggered his displeasure. He’s not sure why it took him so long to put it together, but now lies a new issue: why is it triggering his displeasure?

He squints as he stares at you hard, willing the answer to come to him. There must be a logical reason for it, he just needs to figure out what it is. He can see you looking at him from the corner of your eye, probably wondering why he’s staring at you so intensely, but Dazai just can’t rip his gaze away, fully intent on figuring out what his problem is right now.

Casualties are expected in this line of work. Dazai has never been one to think twice when people are hurt or killed in the line of action—he’s lost many subordinates to ensure the success of a mission and has even put his own life on the line if it meant that it bettered his chances of succeeding. So he should by no means be bothered by the prospect of you being wounded, especially considering he barely knows you.

“I want to know you.”

Dazai blinks as your words suddenly ring through his head again, startled by his own thoughts. His brows furrow even deeper because no, that can’t possibly be the reason why. He supposes it might be influencing it a bit because people who want to know him are few and far between, so the thought of meeting someone who actually gives him the time of day and almost losing them right away is unfortunate. It makes sense that it’s making him more irritable, especially when it’s something he’s curious to see play out and it’s something that could’ve been easily prevented.

Oh, he realizes, suddenly satisfied as he comes to an answer that he can quickly accept, disregarding everything else. 

That’s the issue—it was preventable. 

Dazai should’ve seen it coming and he should’ve been quick to take the necessary steps to avoid it. What he was feeling was irritability at himself, not at the fact that you got hurt. It wouldn’t make sense because Dazai doesn’t know you and even if he did know you, casualties are expected in this line of work. But you’re his assignment—his and Chuuya’s—Dazai has never failed an assignment before, much less with Chuuya, and he’d come this close because he’d recklessly let down his guard in enemy territory. 

It makes sense.

Much more than any of the other absurd explanations he’d been considering do at least.

This time when Chuuya makes a stupid comment, Dazai chimes in with some very necessary commentary, giving you a simpering smile and a wink before dancing out of the way of Chuuya’s much anticipated roundhouse.

Still, Dazai finds the troubled feeling returning again when his gaze drifts back down to the marks on your neck as he passes by the two of you with flourished spin, antagonizing Chuuya just to entertain himself with how red his face gets in embarrassment. 

But his gaze darts back up to your face quickly and he shakes off the unwelcome feeling, another quip on the tip of his tongue that abruptly dies when he sees your hand pressed to your mouth as you try to hide your amusement from Chuuya. Your eyes are turned up and your smothered giggles are just barely audible, the mid-morning sun casts an ethereal glow over your face and for a moment, Dazai is entirely stunned by the sight. He nearly trips over his own foot, and since he’s unsteady on his feet, he can’t avoid the way Chuuya predictably transitions from a roundhouse into a back kick.

He goes flying backward, all breath pushed from his lungs as takes the kick to the gut and hits the concrete hard a few feet away. He should be disgruntled, or he should at the very least retaliate with another mocking jibe, but instead, he finds his gaze fixed on you, watching as you finally burst into laughter, unable to contain it with the sight of Dazai sprawled out on the ground looking like a clown.

His heart rate spikes and Dazai’s hand flies to his chest, alarmed—becomes even more so when it doesn’t settle down. He rips his gaze from you to stare down at the ground, forcibly calming his heart and only when he’s sure that he’s got it under control, he looks back up.

Immediately, he loses control over it again, and this time it feels even more erratic, each thump resonating through his ears as you approach him, giggles quieting as you hold out your hand to help him up. 

For a horrifying second, Dazai thinks he might have a heart attack and that would be a lame way to go. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he does not have a heart attack, although that means he’s probably going to have to go to Mori when he gets back to the base—death may have been more preferable to that. 

Great, he thinks bitterly, not only has he had to deal with Chuuya for over twenty-four now, but now he’s going to have to go see Mori and figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Or you. He wonders if maybe you have an ability that’s somehow affecting him, that would be a serious issue for future missions that the two of you might be paired for. 

But it must be that—it’s the most logical explanation. 

What a mess the past day has been, but…

Dazai thinks it might’ve been worth the trouble, eyes lingering on you for a few moments longer before he takes your hand, taking note of the odd jolt that runs up his arm as soon as your fingers wrap around his hand to help him up. 

He doesn’t notice that even with your fingers locked with his, his heart still beats out of his chest. 

“Don’t tell me you’re over here reminiscing.”

You roll your eyes before looking over your shoulder to focus your gaze on an achingly familiar face. Chuuya drops lightly to the ground behind you, using gravity to soften his fall as he approaches you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest as a smile curves to your lips. “I was waiting for you.”

“D’aw, did ya miss me?” he asks with a sharp smile.

You have a retort ready to fly from your lips, but instead of speaking it, you sigh and let your gaze drift across the street in Kanagawa-ku that you’re standing in. Even after all of these years, the ground and buildings are still charred where that ability user had attacked you—faded now, of course, but you can still make out the faint remnants of the attacks.

Maybe you are reminiscing, you think to yourself, a heavy feeling settling over you. If you close your eyes, you can almost picture the rubble you were hiding behind, the jolt of fear you’d felt when you realized you wouldn’t be able to dodge the next attack, and then him.

And then Dazai.

“I did,” you admit, dragging your eyes from the ground to look back at Chuuya, whose smile falters a bit before softening.

“I can’t believe Mori had you abroad for three years,” he sighs, reaching out to squeeze your wrist. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Let’s head back to headquarters and have a drink. We can put on a movie.”

“Not one of your shitty horror movies,” you laugh, knocking your shoulder into his. You lean into him a bit as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, keeping it draped around you as the two of you start to make your way back to the base.

You hesitate—and Chuuya can feel your hesitation from the way he glances down at you, concerned. He frowns and asks, “What’s up?”

You let out a puff of air and then speak up reluctantly, “Have you… heard from him? Of him?”

You hate the twinge of hope that’s audible in your voice, despite how hard you tried to rid yourself of it. You hate even more the sympathetic look that Chuuya casts you; he knows who you’re talking about instantly—of course, he does, there’s only one person it could be—his lashes lower and his arm drops back to his side. 

“I saw him,” Chuuya says after a few moments. Your eyes widen as your head snaps toward him, waiting for him to continue. “... Met him. He’s part of the Armed Detective Agency now. Got himself captured by us to try to get information to help his new protege.”

“Oh.”

Your throat feels tight. Too tight. Swollen. Your eyes sting painfully and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. The Armed Detective Agency. New protege. You don’t know if you feel bitter or relieved. Bitter because he’s found a place somewhere without you, relieved because he’s alive and okay. 

His defection still doesn’t even feel real after four years, it’s not like you’ve been in Yokohama long enough to fully process it, but god… you could still imagine him coming up behind the two of you with a snide comment to antagonize Chuuya, eyes trained on you to watch the way you laugh at Chuuya’s reaction. The wistfulness hits you so hard that it almost knocks the air from your lungs—not for the first time since he left, you yearn, you miss him, you want him, and now that you’re finally back in Yokohama after so many years abroad, it’s all the more intense.

How unfair, you think, nails biting into your palms as you stare ahead.

“Do you think he’s replaced us?” You try to keep your voice light, but you think you fail.

Chuuya lets out a bark of laughter. “He can certainly try.”

Your lips curl up at Chuuya’s words, gaze flickering down to the ground. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly before asking, “Did he seem… okay?”

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I’m not talking about that shithead anymore,” he tells you. “I’m sure he’ll come looking for you now that you’re back. Let’s go home now, yeah?” 

The thought of Dazai coming to look for you makes your stomach twist with anxiety; after so many years apart, you just don’t know what to expect… but you suppose you’ve never really known what to expect from him, so you’ll just handle him the same way you always have. Except maybe not as kindly.

But you don’t have to worry about that yet.  Instead, you smile and bump shoulders with Chuuya again.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

[leahrintarou]

Hey this might sound weird but I’ll do my best to explain could you do a suna fix where he works for you dad working on cars together at you family owned garage that is on you property and you two secretly like talk and other stuff ;)

✩₊˚.⋆ DENIAL - suna rintarou

CW: swearing, make out sesh (suggestive maybe), petname "angel" used, y/n is in denial, suna is in love. he's a tease, reader uses she/her, i love this man oml Word Count: 2.3k Author's Note: DOESNT SOUND WEIRD AT ALL, ANON! i hope you enjoy :). ty for reading. make sure to send in a request if you ever have any ideas that you want me to write <3

y/n wiped sweat from her brow, leaving behind a stripe of grease residue. she was currently working at the family owned car shop that he dad has been around ever since she was a child. the second she was able to gold things on her own, she's been by her dad's side helping him every chance she got. she loved it and couldn't imagine a better lifestyle.

however, there was a catch that came in the form of suna rintarou. he stood a few feet away from her, finishing up the final touches on one of the cars that was recently dropped off at the shop for a maintenance check. a lazy smirk was on his lips when y/n's eyes caught his figure.

"its rude to stare, y/n."

y/n was tempted to throw the tool in her hand directly at him but thought twice, opposing from the idea. "i rather stare at a wall. don't flatter yourself." she rolled her eyes. that might've been a lie and might've been the truth. suna was attractive, that she could confidently say about him. however, she would often catch herself admiring him way too often.

how his bottom lip always tucked between his teeth as he was focused, his lazy and low-lidded gaze that would intimidate any customer that showed up, hence the reason why he called y/n over anytime assistance was needed.

"all you have to do is give them a little smile, dude."

"why would i smile at a stranger who expects me to charge them a penny for a week's worth of work?"

suna chuckled at y/n's words. he was dressed in loose fitting jeans that were stained with oil. his hoodie matched that oil stained design and somehow, he was still able to make it appear to look like something out of a fashion magazine.

"right, sure." he shook his head, leaning against the car after shutting it's hood. "you know the more you deny it, the more i know that you like me, right?"

"me liking you? your cockiness makes me sick." she shook her head. "if i had to choose between you and oil spill, id pick the oil."

suna didn't miss a beat. "you say that now, but it sounds like you'd enjoy getting dirty here with me."

her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for reacting. he always did this-teased her just enough to make her flustered, but not enough to cross a line. he'd been working here for months now, and ever since he'd started, it had been a constant back-and-forth between them.

she liked to pretend he annoyed her, but he had this frustrating ability to crawl under her skin and make her feel things she didn't want to admit. her dad was in the back, probably fixing some engine part, leaving her alone with suna in the main garage. she grabbed a rag and wiped her hands, desperate for a distraction.

"you got something to say, or are you just going to stand there grinning like an idiot all day?" she muttered, turning her attention to the car in front of her. "hey, i'm actually working here," suna said with mock innocence as he bent under the hood of a car. "just trying to keep this place running smoothly. you should thank me, y'know? without me, your dad would be way more stressed."

she rolled her eyes. "you're delusional. dad could run this place fine without you. suna's eyes flicked up to meet hers from under the hood, a mischievous glint in them. "maybe, but it's more fun having me around, isn't it?"

her face heated up again, and she cursed under her breath. how did he always manage to get under her skin like this? "you're lucky you're good with cars," she muttered, pretending to focus on the engine. "otherwise, you'd be out of here."

"i’ll take that as a compliment," he said, standing up and stretching, his hoodie riding up just enough for her to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. he smirked when he noticed her staring. "like what you see?"

she scowled and threw the rag at him, which he caught effortlessly. "you wish, suna."

"yeah, i do," he shot back, leaning closer. his voice dropped, teasing, but softer. "come on, y/n. you can’t pretend you don’t like me forever."

she swallowed, not trusting herself to speak. she hated how easily he could fluster her, how he always knew exactly what to say to make her heart race. but he was also frustratingly right. as much as she tried to ignore it, there was something about him that drew her in. the teasing, the flirting, the way he always seemed so calm and collected, like nothing ever rattled him—it was annoyingly attractive.

"i can try," she muttered, turning her back to him.

he chuckled again, but it was softer this time, more genuine. "you’re fun to mess with, you know that?"

"glad i could be your entertainment," she deadpanned.

"you make it too easy," he said, leaning against the car again, watching her. his gaze was heavy, and it made her skin tingle. "but seriously, y/n. you’re not fooling anyone. i know you like me."

she huffed in frustration, finally turning to face him. "what makes you so sure?"

suna’s grin widened. "because if you really hated me, you wouldn’t let me get away with half the stuff i say to you. and you wouldn’t get all flustered every time i do this—"

his thumb met with the area just above her eyebrow, wiping away the smudge of grease. her breath hitched, and she cursed herself for reacting. his eyes locked onto hers, and for a second, the playful teasing was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made her stomach flip.

she slapped his hand away, even though her heart was beating out of her chest. "you’re so full of yourself."

"maybe," he said, his voice low. "but that doesn’t mean i’m wrong."

she hated how right he was. she hated how he made her heart race, how he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to press. but more than anything, she hated that she kind of liked it. before she could respond, her dad’s voice called out from the back of the garage. "y/n! suna! i need a hand back here."

she jumped at the sound, grateful for the interruption. quickly wiping her hands in a rag, she turned toward the back. "coming!"

suna followed her, his presence a little too close for comfort. as they approached the back where her dad was working on a stubborn engine, she tried to shake off the lingering tension. but suna, of course, wasn’t about to let it go.

"hey, y/n," he whispered as they walked, his breath warm against her ear. "you never answered my question."

"what question?" she muttered, refusing to look at him.

he leaned even closer, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke. "do you like what you see?"

instead of answering, she clenched her jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, and settled on throwing her elbow back to meet with his abdomen. he caught it just in time and pulled her back to him.

"that's not nice, angel."

"oh, fuck off."

---

hours later, after her dad had gone home and the sun was setting outside, the garage was quiet. she and suna were the only ones left, finishing up the last of the work for the day. the silence between them was heavier now, the teasing from earlier still hanging in the air.

"you’re quiet," suna commented as he wiped down his tools. "something on your mind?"

"nope," she lied, trying to focus on organizing the wrenches on the wall.

suna smirked, walking over to her. he stood behind her, his presence looming, and she could feel the heat of him even though he wasn’t touching her. "still mad at me for making you flustered earlier?"

"i wasn’t flustered," she scoffed.

he chuckled, and she felt his breath on her neck. "sure you weren’t." she spun around, glaring at him. "what do you want, suna? why do you always have to mess with me?"

his smirk faded slightly, and for a moment, his expression softened. he stepped closer, and suddenly, she felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

"maybe i just like being around you," he said, his voice quieter now. "ever think of that?"

'well you make it hard for me to like being around you' she thought to herself.

y/n stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. this wasn’t the usual teasing suna; this was different. she opened her mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat.

suna reached out, his fingers brushing her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "you're killing me, y/n."

her heart pounded in her chest, and she hated that he was right. she hated that, despite all the teasing and banter, she actually liked him. more than she wanted to admit. "you’re insufferable," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

suna’s lips twitched into a small smile, and he stepped even closer, closing the distance between them. "maybe. but you still like me."

she rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "unfortunately."

suna grinned, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "knew it."

y/n barely had time to react before suna closed the space between them, his lips crashing against hers in a way that was both surprising and inevitable. there was nothing slow or gentle about it—it was hungry, desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long. her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t pull away. instead, she found herself pushing into the kiss, gripping the front of his hoodie as if she needed to anchor herself to something real.

suna’s hands found her waist, fingers digging into her sides as he pulled her closer, pressing her back against the workbench. she sighed against his lips, her heart pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. every nerve in her body felt like it was on fire, every touch of his lips against hers sending sparks down her spine.

he broke the kiss first, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the heated space between them. his voice, usually full of teasing, was low and rough. “this is what you were in denial of for so long?”

y/n blinked up at him, her mind still spinning from the kiss, trying to find her words. “shut up—” but her voice came out breathless, and she hated how easily he unraveled her.

suna’s lips curved into a slight smirk, though there was something softer in his eyes now, something that made her chest tighten. “you’ve been pushing me away for so long,” he murmured, hands warm against her skin. “but i think you wanted this just as much as i did.”

“you’re wrong,” she tried to snap back, but the way her voice shook betrayed her. she hated that he was right, hated how much she wanted him, how much she had been pretending not to feel anything.

“yeah?” he whispered, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “then tell me to stop.”

y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. her mind was screaming at her to push him away, to tell him he was wrong, but her body wasn’t listening. instead, her fingers tightened in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “i hate you,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

suna chuckled softly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers again. “you don’t hate me.”

this kiss was slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. y/n’s breath hitched as his hand slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of her own.

when they finally pulled apart, suna’s eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, his smirk replaced by something more serious. “you can’t keep pretending you don’t feel anything,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

y/n bit her lip, her heart still racing, her mind a mess of emotions. “and what if i don’t want to feel this?” she asked, her voice shaky.

suna’s gaze softened, and he reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. “then stop lying to yourself,” he said quietly. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

her chest tightened at his words, the sincerity in them catching her off guard. she didn’t want to admit how much she cared, how much she had been holding back. but in this moment, with his lips inches from hers and his hand still resting on her cheek, it felt impossible to keep pretending.

without saying another word, she leaned in again, capturing his lips in a kiss that was softer this time, less rushed, but just as intense. she didn’t know what this meant, didn’t know what would happen after tonight. but right now, with suna’s arms around her and his lips against hers, none of that seemed to matter.

suna wiped his hands on a rag and tossed it aside, the sun casting an orange glow through the garage windows. the day had slowed down, leaving only the two of them, the steady hum of the shop’s quiet settling around them. he stretched lazily, catching y/n’s eyes on him for a split second.

“alright, i’m heading out,” he said, his voice smooth as always. his eyes lingered on her, softer than usual. “you need anything before i go?”

y/n shook her head, busying herself by wiping down a tool. “nah, i’m good.”

suna took a step toward the door, hesitating for a moment. the smirk on his face softened into something gentler. he gave her one last look before heading out.

“see you tomorrow, angel,” he called over his shoulder, his tone light, almost teasing.

y/n glanced up, catching his eyes just as he disappeared through the door, the sound of his voice leaving a warmth in the air even after he was gone.

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[lilacmingi]

DR. FACILIER (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. And please don’t spam-like!

Pairing: Dr. Facilier!Mingi x fem!reader

Word count: 8,130

Note: I was rereading over this while drafting it here from my Wattpad and I totally forgot how much I loved it 😫

The sound of the front door being slammed shut echoed throughout your home, followed by the sound of keys being dropped into the glass bowl kept in the foyer.

"You're not gonna believe what just happened." Your brother, Wooyoung, hissed angrily as he stormed into the living room.

"What?" You asked, rolling your eyes.

"I went to that voodoo guy and he screwed me over."

"You what?" You sat upright, giving him a sharp glare. "You know those people are quacks."

"I was curious." He defended.

"What exactly did this guy do?"

"He did some card reading to predict my future and it was horrible."

"I don't see what the problem is. You paid to have your future told."

"He was all upbeat and excited saying that he saw a bright future for me and then when I paid him and pulled cards, he told me I was gonna lose all my money and die alone."

"Seems pretty accurate to me."

"Hey!" He huffed, slapping your arm.

"It's the truth! You lost money on that reading."

"Don't you get it? He made me think I was gonna get a good reading and I didn't. I was tricked."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know. Something."

"No."

"Do something, Y/n." He whined, shoving your shoulder.

"Cut it out."

"Not until you do something."

"You can take care of it yourself. If you're not satisfied, go talk to the guy."

"If I go back, he'll recognize me. Plus, he has a sign up that says no refunds."

You stared up at the purple and green sign that read: Dr. Song's Voodoo Emporium. There were two torches up on either side of the sign, casting an orange glow on the letters.

You didn't even know why you were there. Maybe you did care that Wooyoung got scammed or maybe you knew he wouldn't quit complaining about losing money if you didn't do something.

"It's now or never." You muttered to yourself before pulling open the creaky door and stepping inside.

"Welcome." A deep and somewhat husky voice greeted you from somewhere in the shadows. "You know, I always say fate brings people into my little shop."

Suddenly, the room was illuminated by many candles and lanterns, all being set aflame on their own and all at once. Stepping out from the dark shadows was a tall, slim man with silvery hair pushed away from his face. He donned an outfit consisting of a vest, an animal print suit jacket, dark trousers, and boots. In his hand was a cane with a gold skull on the end.

"So, darling, do you think fate brought you here?" He asked, extending his hand to you.

"I think you ripping off my brother brought me here." You answered.

He retracted his hand, his strong brows tugging together. "What ever do you mean?"

"You scammed my brother."

"I don't know your brother." He stated.

"You told him you saw a bright future for him and when he got a card reading, you told him he would lose all his money and die alone."

"Sorry to inform you, but I can't control that."

"Yeah, right."

"I swear. It's not me. It's the cards."

"The cards?" You scoffed. "Please."

"It's true. I don't decide people's futures."

"I knew it. You're just a scam artist." You hissed, stalking towards the exit.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah!" The man hurried to stand in front of the door, his hands up as he tried to stop you from leaving.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you waited to hear what he had to say.

"I'm a man who likes to make bargains. So, how about this? I give your brother another reading for free if you let me give you a reading right now."

"You scammed my brother and you think I want a reading from you? No thanks. I'm not interested in your tricks."

"No tricks."

"You're lying. I know how con men like you work."

"Fine. I guess you don't want to help your brother."

"You know that's not true."

"Oh, but it is. If you really wanted to help your brother, you would take this simple deal."

"Why do you want to give me a reading so badly?"

"Can I not give a pretty lady a free reading?"

Your eyes narrowed. "If I do this, you'll give my brother another reading?"

"Of course." He grinned, extending his hand. "What do you say?"

"Fine." You give in, shaking his hand.

"Wonderful." He smiled, gesturing to a round table in the middle of the room. "Have a seat."

I can't believe I'm doing this. You thought to yourself.

"I don't want any funny business, Dr. Song."

"Please, call me Mingi. And I can assure you, no funny business."

In a flash, a deck of tarot cards appeared in his hands. He shuffled through them before fanning them out across the table, three of them sticking out from the rest.

"Oh." Mingi gasped. "It seems fate has already picked for you."

That's weird.

You didn't even see him touch the cards. They just moved on their own.

Mingi flipped the cards over, humming to himself. "Interesting."

"What?" You inquired, leaning forward to get a look at the cards.

"You're lonely, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're lonely." He looked up at you, his dark irises boring into yours.

"No. I'm not."

The corner of Mingi's mouth twitched as a breathy chuckle left him. "You are."

"I'm not. I'm content."

"Are you?"

"I..." You trailed off, swallowing.

Were you lonely? You didn't feel lonely. Not all the time, anyway.

"You've never been one for relationships, have you?" Mingi inquired, tapping on the first card.

"How do you know that?"

"I know all. Past, present, and even the future. And it seems to me that you've always been hesitant of getting into relationships. You say you're content now and, while that may be true, you're unhappy." He tapped on the second card, most likely indicating the present.

"I'm not unhappy." You denied.

"Deep down, you are. I see it clear as day." His sharp eyes stayed focused on you.

You didn't like the way he was looking at you. It felt like he was staring right into your soul, reading your every emotion.

"Let's see your future, shall we?"

He glanced down at the third card, his brows raising in fascination .

"Seems like you're going to find love in an unexpected place." Mingi's head tilted, a strand of silvery hair falling over his forehead. "A very unexpected place."

You blinked a few times, waiting for him to continue. "And?"

"That's all."

"What?"

"That's it."

"What will he look like? Where will I meet him? How long will it be until I meet him?"

"I don't know."

"But you said you could see the past, present, and future."

"To a certain extent. I don't know all the details."

You pressed your lips together, feeling slightly peeved. To your disappointment, you couldn't exactly be mad at him. The reading wasn't a bad one, it just wasn't as detailed as you'd hoped. Part of you wanted to hear more, but the other part wanted to leave that place as quickly as possible.

"You seem rather interested for a person who thinks I'm a scam artist." Mingi smirked.

You immediately backpedaled. "I'm not interested. I just expected more detail."

"That's not how my readings work. In fact, that's not how any readings work. You don't always get what you want."

"Well, I let you give me a reading, so a deal's a deal. You give my brother another reading for free. No tricks."

"Of course." He placed one hand over his chest and raised the other. "I assure you, I'm a man of my word."

"We'll see about that." You turned on your heel, ready to leave the establishment.

"Wait. I never got your name."

"You don't need it."

You reached for the doorknob only to have the lock turned by some strange shadow that resembled Mingi. The sight was unsettling and caused you to step away from the entrance.

You glared over your shoulder at Dr. Song.

"Unlock it."

"I'd like your name first."

"It's Y/n."

The door unlocked in an instant.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

You abruptly pulled the door open, ready to leave. You had only taken one step outside when Mingi called out for you again.

"One more thing."

You huffed out a sigh of annoyance as you turned towards the fortune teller.

"Here's my card." He held a small business card between his middle and index finger, offering it to you. "In case you ever need me."

You took the card from him, knowing you'd never use it.

"I'll see you around, my dear." He waved as he watched you leave the shop.

"I get another reading?" Wooyoung asked.

"Yes. No charge."

"Will it be a good one?" He questioned, skeptically.

"He didn't say."

"What if I get a bad reading again?" He whined.

"You should just be thankful he offered you another for free."

"You're right. Thanks for going down there."

"You're welcome."

"So, should we go down there tomorrow?"

"We? No, no, no, no. There is no we. You're going down there alone. I'm not going back there." You denied.

"Why not?"

"He's annoying."

"That's not a valid excuse."

"I don't see why I have to accompany you."

"What if he tries something? Any tricks, I mean."

"He promised no tricks."

"I still want you to come with me."

And that's how you ended up back at Dr. Song's Voodoo Emporium... again.

"I don't wanna do this." You groaned.

"It won't be that bad. We'll be in and out in no time." Wooyoung assured you.

You highly doubted that.

Your annoyingly optimistic brother stepped inside, pulling you with him.

The shop was lit up better than the previous day, allowing you to see all the strange doodads inside: jars lined up on driftwood shelves, bottles of of every shape and size filled with multicolored liquids, books with foreign symbols on the spines, even animal skulls.

"Well, look who's wandered back into my shop."

You rolled your eyes as Mingi stepped from the shadows, making yet another dramatic entrance.

"It wasn't by choice." You stated.

"I'm here for my free reading." Wooyoung spoke up, stupidly unaware of the tension between you and Mingi.

"Ah, yes. Wooyoung, right?"

Your brother nodded.

"Come. Have a seat. Since your last reading for the future was bad, I'll give you a redo for it."

"Sounds good."

You stood off to the side, giving the two some space. From there, you watched Mingi, making sure he didn't pull any tricks.

He pulled out his deck of tarot cards, shuffling them around before presenting them to Wooyoung.

"Pick three cards and we'll see what your future holds."

Your brother's hand hovered over the cards laid out across the tabletop until he selected his first card, then the second, then the third. Each selection was made carefully, as he didn't want to get another bad reading.

"Alright. Let's see what we have here." Mingi hummed, flipping over the first card.

"Oh. This one is good. It means that you'll have some luck."

Mingi then flipped over the second card.

"Mhm." He hummed, with a nod. "This one could mean that there will be a rough patch for you at some point."

Wooyoung frowned.

Mingi flipped over the last card, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, it seems that you'll get through that rough patch and be content in where you are in life."

"Really?" Wooyoung asked.

Mingi nodded.

"What about getting rich? You mentioned that last time before you got me to pay for a reading."

"Ah. Well, I can make that happen for you if you still want it."

Your brows furrowed as you watched their exchange, feeling unsettled by Mingi's words, as well as his shifty behavior.

"Yes!" Your brother answered, enthusiastically. "Is that even possible?"

"Of course it is, Wooyoung. I have friends on the other side that can help me to change your future around."

"Woah. Seriously?"

"Of course. I can make your dreams come true. What do you say?" Mingi extended his hand out towards Wooyoung.

As your brother reached towards Mingi's hand, you saw that shadow from the day before reaching towards Wooyoung. Sensing that something wasn't right, you jumped into action, lunging forward and pulling your naive brother's hand away.

"Don't!"

Wooyoung looked at you with wide eyes and an expression that said, 'What's wrong with you?'

"Are you insane?!" You shrieked.

"No. I'd say I'm the complete opposite actually. I'm about to be rich!"

"No you're not, you idiot. He's trying to trick you. Are you not even the slightest bit worried by these so-called 'friends from the other side'? There could be some serious repercussions to this."

"Uh..." He trailed off.

"Are you seriously going to trust the guy who scammed you?"

His jaw dropped in realization.

"You!" He pointed at Mingi. "You we're trying to trick me again."

"You almost fell for it." He muttered under his breath.

"Unbelievable." You scoffed. "We're leaving."

Wooyoung stood up and the two of you started to walk out.

"Don't be like that." Mingi called out.

"Look, my brother got his free reading and that's that. We're done here."

You didn't allow him any more time to speak as you and Wooyoung left the shop, slamming the door behind you.

"Now do you see why I wanted you to come with me?" Wooyoung asked once the two of you were outside.

"I do. I'm glad I was there, but that doesn't mean I wanted to be."

"You're right. He's a total scam artist."

"I know. Good news is, we won't have to deal with him ever again. You got your free reading, so everything is settled."

Wooyoung gave a nod of finality as the two of you walked away.

You scanned the shelves for any snacks that caught your eye. Wooyoung was in "desperate" need of honey butter chips and annoyed you into going to the convenience store. You figured since you were going out of your way to get his snacks, you might as well get something for yourself.

"Well, would you look at that."

Your brows furrowed at the familiar voice. Turning your head, you spotted someone you didn't expect to see.

Mingi stood at the end of the aisle with one hand resting on his cane and a shopping basket over his other arm, a smug grin on his face.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You muttered.

"What was that?" He asked, walking over.

"Why are you here?" You questioned, ignoring him.

"What does it look like?"

"Stalking."

He chuckled. "Just because we happen to be at the same place at the same time doesn't mean I'm stalking you. You know what I call it?"

"What?"

"Fate."

"Well, I call it annoying." You remarked, walking away.

"Ouch." Mingi hissed. "Those are harsh words."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have shopping to do."

You left the aisle you were in, not wanting to share the same area with that fraud. You relocated to a different aisle, perusing the snacks there, picking up a couple things. To your disappointment, Mingi had followed you.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Because I have no interest in speaking to you. Nor do I have a reason to speak to you."

"That's a shame."

"Yeah. A real shame." You remarked sarcastically.

You tried, yet again, to get away from him, but to no avail. No matter where you went, he followed.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself? Do you have any hobbies?" He inquired.

"Is that your way of flirting? If so, you're doing a terrible job."

He had that same shameless smirk on his face, letting you know that he didn't care that he was annoying you to no end. You already have Wooyoung harassing you at home, you didn't need another one.

"Come on. I wanna know more about you, darling."

"Don't call me that."

"Why?" He asked, leaning over your shoulder. "Does it make your heart race? Hm?"

"No, it makes me want to throw up."

"You are merciless." Chuckled Mingi. "Don't worry, though. I'm a very persuasive man. I'm sure I could get you to change your tune."

Your patience was wearing thin. You didn't know how much more you could take. This man's incessant questions and flirty remarks were beginning to drive you to madness.

"Look," You started, placing a bag of snacks into your basket. "I'm not interested, okay? Nothing you say and nothing you do will change my mind, got it?"

Mingi's brows raised at your harsh words, but you could see that he wasn't affected by them. In fact, he actually had the audacity to smirk.

"We'll see about that."

Weeks passed and every time you left the house, you ran into Mingi. It didn't matter where you went, he was always there. He had somehow found a way to be exactly where you were every single time—and it was annoying.

Mingi's shadow slipped underneath the front door of his shop, slinking across the walls until it got to the office located in the back.

"Ah. There you are." Mingi greeted. "What have you found out?"

His shadow moved close to him, leaning in, telling him something in a hushed voice.

"What's that?" Mingi asked, leaning closer so he could hear better.

His shadow whispered in his ear, a smirk tugging at Mingi's lips as he listened to the information his shadow provided him.

"Ah. So, she's going to an art festival? Perhaps I'll pay her a visit."

You walked along the sidewalk, browsing the tents set up on the street. There were many different artists selling a wide variety of wares. From uniquely-shaped vases to colorful works of art—they had it all. You enjoyed going places alone every once in a while, so when you heard about a nearby art festival, you knew you had to check it out.

Your fingers ran over a canvas painting, feeling the texture of the pigment. Bright colors were spread across the surface, layered and mixed to make different hues and shadows in the artwork.

"This is a really nice painting." You told the vendor. "How long did it take you?"

"Around 48 hours."

"Woah. That's a lot of work."

"It is." The vendor nodded. "But, I enjoy it, so I don't even realize how much time passes."

You smiled softly.

You loved hearing about the interests and hobbies of others, especially how they enjoy it so much it doesn't feel like work or that they get so immersed in it that they lose track of time.

"Fate just keeps bringing us together."

The soft smile on your face fell immediately.

That better not be who I think it is.

You slowly turned towards Mingi who stood behind you, propped on his cane that he constantly carried with him.

Every time you saw him, he was wearing some sort of vest and jacket, each one with a different pattern or color. Today was no different, except that there were round glasses perched on his nose. You had to admit, the spectacles made him appear softer in a way.

You paused.

The mere thought that Mingi looked softer put you back in your place. You quickly reminded yourself that this man was a scam artist (and a stalker, apparently) and shook away any thoughts about him being remotely soft, pushing them away to the deepest corners of your mind, hoping they wouldn't resurface.

You told the vendor goodbye and wished them luck on their sales before approaching Mingi, your expression cold and void of any emotion except anger and annoyance.

"If you don't quit stalking me, I'm going to call the cops."

"The cops? I'd like to see them try and do something." He chuckled.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? I only visited your measly little shop to right a wrong for my brother. The deal is done. I have no business with you any more, so I don't know why you keep following me around."

Mingi tilted his head to the side, an amused expression plastered on his face.

"What do you want from me?" You asked flat-out, not cutting any corners.

"I want you, Y/n."

You weren't expecting that answer at all. You tried to cover up the fact that you were caught off guard, responding in a cold voice.

"You can't have me."

"Is that a challenge?" He raised a brow.

"No. It's a statement."

You turned on your heel, leaving him standing on the sidewalk. You didn't care that you had ditched him. After all, he's the one who encroached on your day out.

A nearby tent caught your attention. The vendor had many intricate wood carvings on display. They were so beautiful that you stopped for a moment to admire them, complimenting the man on his incredible handiwork. You chatted with him for a moment, asking how he makes such complex creations. You ended up purchasing a small keychain with a carving of a skull hanging from it.

You continued down the street, taking a few moments to check out anything that caught your eye. One of those items was a medium-sized canvas with multicolored neon shapes painted on the surface. The background was black, making the vibrant hues stand out. You loved it and you had to have it.

Greeting the woman running the booth, you immediately picked up the canvas, mentioning how much you loved it. After glancing at the price, you decided you would purchase it. You looked down only for a moment, digging through your wallet to retrieve some cash for the lady. You had just counted out the money when a hand extended past you, neatly folded bills held between two slender, ring-clad fingers.

"I got it covered."

The lady took the money, thanking the person. You turned to see Mingi behind you, his tall form leaned over you slightly. You had to keep it together long enough for the vendor to hand you the canvas which had been placed in a plastic shopping bag. You gave her a friendly smile and wished her luck on the rest of her sales before walking away so she wouldn't hear you scream at Mingi.

As much as you wanted to think he bought that for you out of the kindness of his heart, you knew he didn't. He had something up his sleeve.

"Aren't you gonna thank me?" Mingi asked before you had the chance to say anything to him.

"No."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that's fine. However, you do owe me."

"I beg your pardon?" You asked, stopping in your tracks.

"You owe me." He repeated.

"I don't owe you anything."

"Oh, but you do. I just paid for that painting."

"That was your choice. I had nothing to do with it."

"You still owe me."

"You know what?" You muttered, digging through your wallet. You pulled out enough money to cover the cost of the painting, shoving the cash into his chest. He stumbled a bit, placing his hand over the money to keep it from falling.

"I paid you back. We're square now." You told him.

"Did you?" He raised a brow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as he showed you an empty hand. You looked in your wallet, then began patting down your pockets, reaching into one of them, pulling out the wad of cash you'd just given to Mingi.

"Wh-what? How did you—"

"Like I said, you owe me."

"You... you..." Trailing off, you tried to find the right words to describe the man in front of you. "You snake!"

He seemed unfazed by the attempted insult.

"Whatever it is you're wanting me to do, I won't do it." You snapped.

"Spend the day with me." He told you.

"You really think I want to spend the day watching you scam people? No thanks."

"Would you rather do something else? I'm sure I could think of other ways for you to make it up to me." He told you, his eyes looking you up and down.

Your mouth fell open. "You sicko."

"That's not what I meant." He huffed. "Look, I just want you to spend the day with me, that's all. Come hang out at my shop with me."

"I'm not interested." You told him, sternly.

"Excuse me, young lady." Someone called out, catching your attention.

You turned towards the voice to see where it was coming from. A man in a black coat wearing many odd necklaces made of bone stepped out into the street.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself.

"Yes."

"What is it?" You inquired, stepping towards the man's tent, noticing all the unique and odd jewelry he sold.

"You are quite a stunning young woman."

"Oh. Thank you." You responded, thrown off by the strange and sudden compliment.

"I think you'd look lovely wearing this necklace." He grabbed a black velvet box from behind the table, opening it up to show you the product.

The chain was silver and on the end was a unique pendant, one that you'd never seen before. An iridescent stone was encased in intricate, silver designs. The gemstone is what really caught your attention. It changed colors in the light, looking purple from one direction, then a green-ish teal color from the other. But, if you looked at it straight on, it was a mix of colors—it was enchanting.

"It's beautiful." You commented.

"I made it myself." The man told you, removing it from the box. "Go on. Have a look. You can try it on if you'd like."

You stepped forward, your hand reaching for the necklace. Just then, Mingi's hand shot out, grabbing onto your wrist before you could even touch the pendant. You turned to him with a questioning look on your face.

"Sorry, but we're not interested." He told the man in a stern tone, his voice dangerously low.

The vendor gave Mingi a hard glare as you were dragged away.

"What was that about?" You asked once the man was out of earshot.

"There was a bad energy surrounding that necklace." Mingi responded, his face solemn. "It's probably cursed."

"Cursed? Why would someone try to sell me a cursed necklace?"

"There are dangerous people in the world who love meddling with the lives of others."

"Isn't that what you do?"

"No. I help people. Sometimes I have sneaky ways of doing it, but it's nothing like what that man does."

"You both trick people. I don't see the difference." You stated.

"That may be true, but at least I don't try and sell people cursed items."

You were about to tease him for admitting that he indeed scams people, but you knew all along, so there was no need to joke about it.

You did feel a little touched by the fact that he stopped you from getting a malediction from a cursed necklace. You honestly didn't think he had it in him.

"I'll spend the day with you." You spoke up.

"What?" Mingi turned to you, his normally sharp and narrow eyes now wide in surprise, glimmering with hope.

You had to stop yourself from fawning over how insanely adorable his eyes were.

You cleared your throat before repeating yourself. "I'll spend the day with you."

"Really? What made you change your mind?"

"You just saved me from catching a curse. I guess I owe you for that."

The very next day you found yourself standing in Mingi's voodoo shop again, this time on your own volition. You walked around the room, getting a good look at everything inside. If you were going to be there all day, you might as well make the most of it.

He had all sorts of strange knickknacks, trinkets, and novelties. One of those being lucky rabbit foot keychains. You figure that was typical for a voodoo shop. On the driftwood shelf, besides all the strange liquid-filled bottles, there appeared to be elixirs and bath salts, some promising good luck, while others just promised a boost of energy. In a basket under a wall of ominous-looking masks were dozens of voodoo dolls.

"Do people actually use these?" You asked.

"They sure do, my dear." Mingi answered.

"Seriously?" You turned towards him. "Do they work?"

"Would you like to test one and find out?"

You recoiled your hand, not liking how confident his tone was. "No thanks."

"Very well. The offer is still on the table if you change your mind." He hummed, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair out.

The door to the shop opened, catching your attention. A customer stepped inside, looking around the small building.

"Ah. Welcome." Mingi greeted. "Is there anything I can help you with on this fine morning?"

"I was told you do card readings." The young man spoke.

"I do indeed. Have a seat."

You watched as Mingi's shadow moved across the floor, pulling the chair out for the customer. Every time you saw his shadow move, you got a shiver down your spine. Something wasn’t right. It may be Mingi's shadow, but it seems to have a mind of its own and is beyond his control.

"Am I interrupting something?" The man asked, noticing your presence.

"No. She's just watching me work, that's all." Mingi brushed it off. "So, what would you like to know? Your future? Or maybe there's a certain someone you have your eye on and you want to see if you'll win them over. Hm?" He raised a curious brow.

"Y-yes! How'd you know that?" The man questioned.

"I know everything. I can see right into your heart and soul." He responded, shuffling his tarot cards.

"Wow."

Mingi then began the card reading, holding them out to the customer. He selected his cards and Mingi begin interpreting each one. He shook his head, making a tsk sound.

"Seems like you won't ever get with this girl."

"What?" The man frowned.

"Yes. The cards are telling me that she'll find someone else."

You crossed your arms, upset by the man's reading.

"Aw. Don't look so down." Mingi cooed, placing the end of his cane under the man's chin, using it to lift the his head. "I have something that'll help win her heart."

"Really?" The man's face lit up instantly.

"Of course." Mingi stood from his chair, striding over to a cabinet. He retrieved a small box, carrying it over to the table. He open it up revealing a beautiful necklace with a heart- shaped charm.

"That's beautiful."

"It's powerful too."

"What?"

"The necklace is charmed. If you put it on her, she'll fall in love with you."

"For real?"

Mingi nodded.

"Hm." The man hummed. "Do you have anything else?"

Mingi seemed disappointed, but turned up the charm, smiling brightly. "Of course."

He strode over to the shelf of bottles, retrieving one of them. "How about a love potion?"

You rolled your eyes.

Yeah, right.

"A love potion?" The customer parroted.

"Yes. If you give her some of this, she'll fall for you instantly."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I got it from my friends on the other side. They can make all sorts of magic potions."

"Woah."

Friends on the other side?

He's said that before. As far as you know, you've only seen his shadow, so who are these friends of his?

"How much?" The man asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, grabbing Mingi's attention. You stared at him intently, shaking your head no, silently telling him not to trick that man.

"Excuse me a moment." Mingi walked over to you, making sure you were both far enough from the man that he wouldn't hear.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly.

"Business." He responded, plainly.

"No you're not. You're scamming. What's the truth behind that necklace? And that so-called love potion?"

"Well, they both really do work. If he uses the love potion, he has to be the first person she sees. The necklace only works when she's wearing it. And as soon as the necklace is clasped around her neck, her soul immediately belongs to my friends on the other side."

"What?!" You whisper-yelled trying not to completely freak out. "You're gonna let him sell this girl's soul without knowing?"

"If he chooses the necklace, yeah."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this? Do you not have any remorse?"

"I have to please my friends on the other side."

"What?"

"You see, doll. I have these friends—beings, if you will. They help me make things become a reality for people, but they need something in return. I do the bidding for them and give them what they want, and in return, they give me something I want."

"That's sick." You spat.

"It's just business, dear." He brushed you off, returning to his unsuspecting customer.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, taking his place back at the table.

"How much for the necklace?"

"Free of charge." Mingi smiled. "All I ask is payment for the card reading. That's it."

The customer was enticed by the offer and was ready to accept.

Knowing what you know now, you didn't want the poor guy to get caught up in a bigger mess. You stared Mingi down, shaking your head. He stared back, his eyes not leaving yours for a long moment as he reconsidered. Then, before the customer could answer, he spoke up.

"Actually," Mingi started. "Forget the necklace, the potion too. There's another way you can possibly change the outcome of all this."

"Really? How?"

"What you need to do is take her out. Ask her on a date and see where it goes from there."

"Are you sure?"

Mingi nodded. "I can't guarantee that it will work, but it's worth a shot. The sooner you do it, the better. That way no one else snags her before you."

"Okay. I think I can muster up the courage to ask her. Thank you so much." The man smiled, pulling money from his pocket. "I'll definitely try that."

Mingi took the cash from him. "Before you go, take this." He grabbed a rabbit's foot keychain, placing it into the man's hand. "Good luck."

"Wow. Thanks a lot!" The customer beamed, leaving the shop.

As soon as the door closed, the fortune teller turned to you.

"Are you happy? You probably screwed me out of a customer." He grumbled, counting the cash.

You saw his eyes widen before he began to frantically recount the bills in his hand.

"He paid me extra."

"What?"

"He paid me a few dollars more than what I charge." He gaped.

"Really?"

"Yeah. He must have really liked my advice." Mingi smiled, shoving the money into his pocket. "I'm a genius."

"You wouldn't have given that advice had I not stopped you from completely ruining his life."

He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. "Fine. I suppose you have a point."

Throughout the day, you watched Mingi give readings to people and try to sell them items that you knew had a twisted backstory to them. Somehow, you were able to get him to rethink things and give his customers an actual solution to their problems rather than scamming them into purchasing something that would possibly ruin their lives.

All in all, you'd say your time spent with Mingi wasn't all that bad and you were glad that you were able to possibly save the souls of a few people during your time in the shop.

"Well, today was... enlightening to say the least." You said. "I should go now."

You prepared to leave until Mingi stopped you.

"Would you like something to eat before you go home? You've been here all day and neither of us have eaten. I'll pay."

"You won't use it as an excuse to say I owe you again, will you?"

"No." He shook his head. "Promise."

You were pretty hungry and you couldn't turn down free food, so you agreed. A delivery order was called in shortly. You assisted Mingi in tidying up his shop after a long day while you waited for your meal to be delivered.

Half an hour passed and you found yourself sitting at the round table in the middle of the shop chatting with Mingi while the two of you ate.

"So, what did you think?" Mingi asked, grabbing a large bite of ramen.

"Well, I didn't like how you tried to trick people. I did, however, like what you told them after you chose to be honest."

He couldn't help but feel proud of himself after hearing your words. At first, he was angry that you made him feel guilty for attempting to scam people, but as the day went on, he realized it wasn't so bad. He'd have to find a way to make up for it when he contacts his friends on the other side later, but he wasn't really worried about that at the moment. He was having a wonderful time with you.

Mingi's shadow was agitated that you managed to get in his head and talk him out of striking any deals. The shadow knew you were bad news from the start. You deterred Mingi from doing many tasks, which caused his friends on the other side to become impatient. What happened today would be the cherry on top. They would show him no mercy if he continued this behavior.

"So, the voodoo dolls do work?" You questioned.

"Of course."

"I bet you sell those to people without warning them of the consequences." You commented.

"On the contrary. I actually do warn people before they buy those. I don't want anyone to do something they'll regret."

You looked at Mingi's expression and the way his eyes stared into yours. He was telling the truth.

"Hm. So you do care for your customers." You teased playfully.

He let out a chuckle. "Of course I do."

"This food is great, by the way. Thanks for buying."

"It's the least I could do. I know you didn't exactly want to be here today."

"Actually, if I'm being honest, it wasn't all that bad. Also, I appreciated the way you protected me yesterday when that weirdo tried to sell me a cursed necklace. I felt like I really did owe you."

"I just didn't want you to get yourself in a messy situation. Truth is, I care about you a lot." Mingi admitted.

His words surprised you and made your heart melt at the same time.

Before you could process what was going on, Mingi's shadow lunged for you, knocking you from your chair, pinning you to the ground.

You let out a yelp, struggling to pull yourself off the floor. You couldn't help but wonder how a shadow was so strong.

"Hey!" Mingi shouted. "What are you doing?"

He got up from his seat so fast, his chair nearly fell over. "Get off of her!" He roared, his voice so gravelly and threatening that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, you felt the ghostly grip on your wrists disappear. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, your heart pounding violently against your rib cage.

"Y/n." Mingi panted. "I'm so sorry. I... it's never done that before. I swear I had nothing to do with it."

"I need to go home." You responded, your mind in a haze.

"Wait. Please—"

"I can't handle this." You told him, heading towards the door. "I'm sorry. I need to leave."

That's the last time Mingi saw you.

You were in the middle of cleaning your room, tossing things you didn't want into a donate box and throwing away invoices from past online orders and other paper junk into the trash.

There was a knock on the front door, but you paid no mind to it, assuming your brother would answer it since you had your hands full at the moment.

However, the knocking persisted.

"Wooyoung! Can you not hear there's someone at the door?" You shouted down the hallway.

"Yeah." He called back from the living room.

"Are not gonna answer it? I'm kinda busy."

"You do it. I'm in the middle of a drama."

You let out a long sigh, stomping into the living room.

"Can you not pause it?"

"No." He responded, his eyes glued to the TV.

"You're unbearable." You said through gritted teeth, going to answer the door.

The person on the other side was not who you were expecting.

Mingi stood at your doorstep, his head hanging low. You would have told him to go away had you not noticed he wasn't wearing his usual getup. Instead of his customary vest and cardigan or suit jacket combo, he had on a white dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. It was much more toned-down than the outfits he usually wore.

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke.

"I'm done."

"What?"

"I cut ties with the shadow realm."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me?" You parroted.

He nodded. "This crooked and shady life I'm living isn't the life I want. Especially if it ends up hurting you."

"This isn't a trick... is it?" You inquired.

He shook his head.

"So, let me get this straight. You cut ties with those friends of yours for me?"

"I did."

"And what about your...shadow?" Your eyes trailed to look at the shape cast along the concrete walkway behind him.

He followed your gaze, noticing your uneasy behavior. "It's gone. Just a normal shadow now. Cutting ties got rid of all the abilities I had."

"I see."

"I'm really sorry about what happened that evening at my shop. I had no control over my shadow. It just attacked without warning. Truthfully, I think it's because it knew—"

"Y/n! Who's at the door?" Wooyoung shouted from the living room, cutting Mingi off.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes.

"None of your business!" You shouted back before turning to Mingi. "I'm sorry about him."

"It's fine. Maybe we could just stand outside and talk." He suggested. "That way we have some privacy."

"Good idea."

You stepped outside, closing the front door so Wooyoung wouldn't try to eavesdrop.

"Alright. You were saying?"

"Right. My shadow... I think it knew that I was going soft."

"Going soft?" You inquired.

"Yes." He nodded, taking in a deep breath like he was preparing to say something extremely important. "Y/n, I was drawn to you from the start. I got my shadow to follow you around after you first came to my shop. That's how I always knew where you were. I just wanted to see you any chance I got. Then, my feelings began to get more serious and I wanted to do things to make you happy. I wanted to protect you. I guess my shadow realized that I was becoming soft and drifting from my old ways. It tired to hurt you because it thought you were getting in the way."

There was so much information to take in. Mingi had his shadow follow you? But, he likes you and obviously cares for you. Not only that, but he's changing his ways for you. He cut ties with the shadow realm for you. That's a pretty big commitment.

"You were right for calling me a stalker. In a way, I was. I'm sorry." He apologized.

"Actually, it's okay. Technically, it wasn't you following me. Also, I can see that you've changed drastically. You're not the same voodoo shop owner I met a month ago."

Mingi's heart soared hearing you say that. Knowing that he had, at the very least, earned your trust was a big accomplishment for him.

"So, would you maybe be willing to give us a chance?" He asked, softly, his hands finding yours.

Your eyes landed on your joined hands, looking at the way his large ones encased your smaller ones.

"I think..." You trailed off, looking back up at Mingi. "I think I'd be up for that."

His eyes became wide, looking rounder and more innocent, sparkling with hope.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded.

Being caught in the moment, Mingi started to lean in, only to catch himself before he got too close.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, softly. His voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to do anything you weren't okay with.

"You can."

Mingi then closed the narrow gap between your faces, his full and plush lips pressing delicately against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed immediately, melting into the kiss. His large hands let go of yours, holding the small of your back, pulling you against him. The closeness had your heart racing. You had never experienced anything like this before. You were feeling emotions and feelings you had never felt in your life. A rush of heat flooded your body and it felt like butterflies were running rampant in your stomach. All these new feelings were overwhelming but so amazing.

The feeling of Mingi's hands running up and down your back sent tingles up your spine, making you feel warm from the inside out.

Your fingers latched onto the ends of his silvery hair, grabbing at the long strands in the back. Based on the sigh he let out against your lips, he liked that.

After a while, you pulled away, feeling short of breath. You and Mingi stared at each other for a few moments, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. Mingi's partially exposed chest rose up and down with each huff as his hooded eyes stared into yours. Your arms were wrapped around his slim waist, holding him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"You were right." You spoke up, still breathless.

"What do you mean?"

"About finding love in an unexpected place."

You could see Mingi's cheeks tint pink.

That's exactly what he said to you after your card reading. At the time, Mingi could see into the future, but even he didn't know who you would end up with. He had no idea he would be the one.

"I guess I found love in an unexpected place too." He admitted.

"Why do you seem so surprised? I thought you knew everything." You teased with a smirk.

He couldn't help but grin.

"As much as I hate to, I'd better get back inside. You know, before Wooyoung comes out here and starts harassing me."

"Right." Mingi chuckled.

"I'd like to see you again." You told him as you went to open the front door.

"You have my card. Just give me a call." He winked. "We'll sort something out."

Hongjoong: Hades ⟡ Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Wooyoung: ⟡ Jongho:

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny @iammeandmeisiam @delulu18

[reguluskeys]

jegulus snippet - 1036 words - i’m a very amateur writer </3

cw: self hatred (im projecting)

cody if you see this no u don’t

The moment James saw Regulus in the astronomy tower that night, he knew something was off. He had his legs to his chest and was resting his head on top, staring at the stars. James slowly walked towards him, and sat down with one leg dangling over the edge.

Regulus either didn’t notice him or was simply choosing to ignore him, so James tried again to get his attention.

“Reg? You ok?” James nudged the boy's shoulder. When Regulus finally looked over, James saw the face he’d seen a million times from Sirius, only- well it was different. While James could read every signal on Sirius’ face to know exactly how he was feeling, Regulus seemed to have a wall up. His lips were pressed into a line and his eyebrows were knit together into almost a scowl, but his eyes… His eyes were filled with a deep sadness that James wished he could pluck from Regulus and give to himself, just to never see it on the boy again.

Regulus’ eyes flickered, looking James over, before turning back to the night sky. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. James let the silence sit between them for a minute as he too stared at the Stars. He wondered if Regulus or Sirius were out tonight.

“Well… Something’s definitely wrong… but you don’t have to talk about it! I’ll be your ‘shoulder to cry on or whatever they say!” James gave Regulus a smile that could melt anyone’s heart.

Regulus tried to hide the small smile but James caught it immediately and laughed. “Oh! Is that a smile? Did Regulus Black just smile?” Regulus rolled his eyes but the smile didn’t fall. “Well this must go in the history books. Wizards for generations must learn of the- dare I say gorgeous - smile that you have. Personally, I feel blessed-!” Regulus cut him off with an elbow to the stomach but James just kept laughing.

“Shut up!” Regulus said, laughter in his voice. “My smile isn't- it's not ‘gorgeous.’” He let one of his legs fall and dangle over the edge, mirroring James.

“Uhm, yes it is! You even give Sirius a run for his money! Don't tell Remus I said that. Or Sirius.” At the mention of his brothers name, the smile on Regulus’ face faltered. James immediately noticed.

“Hey, you ok? Did I say something wrong?” James leaned towards Regulus and lightly put his hand on the boys shoulder. Regulus tensed and went slightly red, though James barely noticed.

“I’m fine,” he paused for a moment. “Merlin it’s just, why does Sirius treat me like I'm still 9?!” Regulus let out a frustrated groan and let the other leg fall over the edge. “Yes, I love Sirius and I want to make amends but I can fight my own battles, I can make my own decisions! He acts like I'm still the crybaby who would sneak into his room at night because I was scared a bogart was in my room, or the kid who never spoke to anyone but him because I was scared to embarrass myself.”

Though it was probably not the best moment, James was enchanted by Regulus. He’d never heard the boy speak that many words at once, let alone the amount of passion and emotion.

“I love him but sometimes I just want to strangle him or drown him in the lake!” Regulus made a vague gesture, strangling the air in front of him as though it was Sirius’ neck. James let out a small snort that Regulus thought sounded weirdly similar to that of a stag, but the thought was overtaken by the sudden embarrassment. His face was suddenly bright red.

“Well now that someone has heard my incoherent ramblings about my brother I must either kill you or myself, and right now I'd rather it be me, so goodbye James. Tell Barty he can’t have my money.” Regulus said in a completely monotone voice and began to stand up on the ledge.

“Hey wait! If you kill yourself now you’ll never be able to beat gryffindor at the quidditch match- well not that you would, i’m the best captain the schools ever seen, but you wouldn’t even get to try!” James scrambled to pull Regulus back down next to him. Regulus huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, i won’t kill myself. But in exchange for you hearing that… I need to hear one of your secrets now. Not that James Potter would have much to hide.” Regulus rolled his eyes and James let out a chuckle.

James had never been a private person, everyone knew when he liked a girl or if he hated a class. Everyone could tell when a marauders prank was about to be in motion because James simply did not have a poker face.

There was one thing though. Something not even Sirius knew. His small smile didn’t falter as he looked straight ahead and spoke.

“Sometimes, I really, really hate myself.” James spoke in a calm voice, as if he’d just stated his favorite color, and not something that had just shattered Regulus’ view of the entire world. The boy just stared at James, and when he finally realized Regulus wasn’t going to say anything, he continued.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don't think I'm a bad person… I have great parents, great friends, I get good marks, I'm a quidditch captain, and if I tried hard enough I could get almost any girl I wanted, but…” James moved his glasses off his face and held them infront of him. “I don’t know I guess, sometimes there’s just something in the back of my brain telling me i’m a terrible person- that everything I do is wrong or that i’m not doing enough. Then I think about all the things i’m lucky enough to have and I hate myself even more for even having those feelings in the first place.”

Regulus took a moment to truly look at James. Not the dumb-jock facade he showed the school, no he looked at the James who despite being the embodiment of sunshine, was burning inside. The James who had bad days and the James who sometimes hated himself.

[ghouldtime]

Hiii it's me again lol

Okayokay, so I just finished reading your rant on the COD fandom's unique choice of pet names, and I'm gonna be straight up and say I'm going completely off topic and INSTEAD veer off to a side thing you pointed out to give my own opinion! This is a kinda hot take so I'm just screaming into the void hoping someone shares my thoughts 🖤

Sooo we all know the Ghost comics released alongside the OG MW2. I personally haven't read it due to the TWs but I've seen enough screenshots and summaries to get the gist of what happens. HOWEVER I believe those comics are only canon to 09 Ghost and doesn't apply to reboot Ghost, and this is what I meant about it being a hot take cuz almost everyone in the fandom agrees the comics happens for both. And I can definitely see why! I mean, we didn't exactly get any concrete backstory regarding reboot Ghost, so anything goes.

Where I stand on the line, I'm a firm believer of reboot Ghost being Just A Guy™️like he had a (relatively) chill childhood but there are some things that stay the same with the comics. Like Tommy scaring him with the skeleton mask when they were children, and Simon enlisting after the 9/11 attack (not sure if those are canon, it's just what I've heard so please correct me if I'm wrong). No abusive father, no Roba, no Christmas trauma. Sure it makes him less interesting but I find it pretty amusing how the person wearing a skull print balaclava has no real reason behind wearing it other than it looking cool lmao

Anyway, yap fest over! Hope you have a wonderful day/night and remember to hydrate! 🖤

- Biscuits 🌺

SALUTATIONS it's good to see you again, I hope you're doing swell as well :D 💚💚💚

Technically, what you're saying is true!

The '09 comics pair with the '09 character and are indeed cannon for only him as far as I'm aware (someone feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). The reboot lacks a true significant backstory. As in, if you search it up, you basically get "he joined the SAS and is super cool and is great at doing cool soldier things and probably can do a sick backflip". What we know about the reboot is basically what we experience in game. And until we get either another game focusing on his earlier life or have confirmed scenes of it, we really don't know.

Personally, how I distinguish "Ghost" as a being is as three versions.

You have '09 Ghost. '09 Ghost is the one we experienced in the OG games and the comics. He's the dead one - and the one with the actual official backstory. Those are both cannon and are tied to him as a character.

You then have Reboot Ghost. Reboot Ghost is, as the name entails, the reboot alone. Basically, what we have of him and know of him is what we experience in game. Technically, we don't know his backstory and the full extent of his life. Is it similar to his '09 counterpart? We don't know. He's kinda the "What you see is what you get". There's some things implied with his dialog but most of his story is up for debate.

And then we have what I'm calling Fandom Ghost who is the most common variant. Fandom Ghost is neither the reboot nor the '09 version - he's a middle ground. He's what everyone is thinking of when you hear 'Ghost'. Usually how I've seen him portrayed is the reboot with the '09 backstory or some semblance of that.

(Side note: I know it's quite typical to specify when you're referring to '09 Ghost specifically because he does, of course, have a very different history and outcome. Not to mention, the dynamics with him and Soap are very different than in the reboot which is another reason why people usually clarify and go "This is who I mean")

I've never actually seen a TRUE reboot Ghost that wasn't fandom based or fanon in writing, now that I think about it. Probably because it's not that easy to write about a character in a limited sense where you don't know much about them and you have to stick to the limited material you're given.

A lot of COD operators lack a significant backstory outside of their military history. That's mainly done because they're videogame characters of a military, shooting focused game and they don't usually have the time to go into depth as to why that character is the way they are. They're primarily soldiers who are saving the world and playing their role. You might see snippets here and there but the focus isn't on their background or the inner workings of their character in a very personal way, aside from what is revealed on missions to add a natural perspective and make them see more human

Because it's not like in the middle of a life or death situation you're going to sit down and explain that you had a dog growing up, you had three sisters, your favorite drink is Baja Blast, and you have a lifelong fear of Burger King.

'09 Ghost, however, we GOT a backstory. We were given something to work with. Clinging to that or melding it with the reboot, who lacks a backstory, is what a lot do because it's trying to make use of the best source material we got until we can maybe get something else too. Personally I was a fan of that backstory because it DID add depth to him, significantly so. I liked it.

Additionally, I think a LOT of people go that route too because it's something that's quite easy to look up so they don't need to make something themselves

(This is an entire theory and me putting on my tinfoil hat: There's a lot of people in the COD fandom who are just here for the big beefy men and don't do their research, haven't played the games - they're just assuming things. And when they see the fandom Ghost, they just assume it's true, and it spreads when they write their own stories. I hope this doesn't read like I'm trying to gatekeep or 'HOW DARE YOU NOT KNOW EVERYTHING' or 'you're not a true fan unless-', cause I really really really do not care. Do what makes you happy, but I'm going to avoid reading what I feel mischaracterizes him for sexual purposes alone hardcore)

I also like to imagine that maybe the team doing the reboots has enough common sense too to not entirely scrap such a backstory as hey, it IS interesting, so there's a strong possibility that reboot might share some origins. Kidding, I'm being fully delusional here and know they won't do that and will likely just ruin it and I'm hoping they don't have a chance. I know any new one they come up with -like the writing in the last campaign -would be utter carbonated hot dog water and I do not trust them at alllllll. I'm refusing to accept reboot Soap's death but that's a rant for another time

That being said though, there's technically no correct backstory yet for Reboot! Ghost aside from what we already know. Anything that adds backstory or melds anything else to him is making him fanon/fandom!Ghost (which is by far the most common iteration and the one people default too)

I love when people give him, and other COD characters, happy or somewhat not dramatic backstories. They already have enough going on with the wars they're thrown in, I live for them having a scrap of happiness and normality. I can't blame people for not wanting to write or deal with heavy backstories and it's nice to see variety and is SO super valid.

But at the same time, I also do like his OG backstory, I love seeing when people dig deeper into the gritty stuff too, exploring that side of characters because not everyone has the best life growing up. And joining the military and when they join can be telling too about their home life

Variety is the variety of life and when there's not exactly a cannon, then I love seeing people make their own reasonings and conclusions and write fanfics with their own theories. It's SO fun to explore what other people think and it really results in some of the sweetest fics that dive more into depth than the official writing team ever could hope to

The Ghost that I write are usually AU Ghosts anyhow so it allows me more flexibility in what I write. BUT if I'm writing for Ghost, I do the blend where it has more of the '09's backstory but his reboot vibes. THAT BEING SAID

I love making him just, A Dude©, still despite that. Having a bad past doesn't make him any less of a person - nor does it make him this ultra mega tough dominant edgy sigma bad boy. He's literally just a GUY. Sure, he has extensive SAS experience and training to boot. Sure, he's easily one of their top soldiers. He's a stone cold killer when he's Ghost. He's there to do the job.

But Simon? Simon's just a dude, like everyone else - they all are at the end of the day. Sure, they have their own personal struggles and do have to go through a lot, but they're still people. He goes to the grocery store and is genuinely confused about all the options of milk now (how the hell did they milk HEMP). He still makes his bed and has to fight the fitted sheet to stay on, using his size and strength to force it in place before it can do 'the thing' that all fitted sheets somehow do. He bought a bird feeder so he could watch the wildlife as he drinks his tea for breakfast. Speaking of tea, he has a whole collection! And the good shit, you know he won't settle for any less.

He's just A DUDE© at the end of the day and I love those mundane things because hell, he needs them to still feel human and to be reminded exactly what he's fighting for

I just find it so silly and ridiculous when he's consistently like "I'M Batman: I AM THE NIGHT" sheer dramatic levels of broody in stories or when he's put in as this mega dommy bad boy who is 6'5", growling constantly, and is like the posterchild for a wattpad biketok fanfic.

Lmaooo be for real, he's out here doing arts and crafts to make his masks. He has a whole paint collection and everything. He went into the craft store for paint and came out with two new hobbies and no, I'm not listening to anyone who says otherwise

[tragedycoded]

writing share tag!

Oh my goodness, all of my favorites left open tags yesterday. @the-golden-comet just about gave me a cavity, @dyrewrites shared the Mitra of all time, and @sableglass unleashed Dante onto the world.

You guys have been good. Here's the first 620 words of Khalid's short story, "Among the Elements," which I'm editing today. There's no content warnings... yet.

Passing on the open tag, btw. Show me what you got.

Monday Paris is smaller than I thought it would be. We touched down into the city at 22:22 on Sunday. Despite the hour, the hotel's bar was open. Seemed as if every participant at The Symposium on Quantum Biology was drinking when we arrived. And then in the morning. It's disheartening to sit alone with the memory of how quickly my own sense of accomplishment fades after the presentation is over. Always is an inaccurate qualifier, yet the correlation between my arrival at the reception and the speed with which my cohorts opened their tablets to share the content of their picture rolls is… notable. Frankly, I would prefer pictures of dogs. Dogs are a distraction from scientific discovery, same as children. But my cohorts only want to show pictures of their children. Perhaps this is a sign of emotional immaturity, to be asked to share in a moment of joy and pride with another human being and to think instead: It's no accomplishment to produce a child. People do it by complete accident every single hour of the day. // Upon further examination, I've concluded that certain aspects of my personhood have contributed to my solitude persisting into adulthood. It has never occurred to me that solitude was a deficit, until now. It's a foolish thought. Even if I did want companionship, of all things, significant hurdles stand between myself and the want. It's not possible to bypass companionship in order to produce a child. It's ridiculous. I don't want children any more than I want a dog. It would get in the way, make a mess, distract me from my Work. And what is to be done with a child when it grows large enough but send it away? Seeing other people's children reminds me even if I did want such a thing, the improbability of attaining it removes all motivation to pursue it in the first place. As though wanting means I ought to be able to figuratively pluck whatever I want down from a tree as I pass by, no dirt under my nails or sweat on my brow--that is an even more foolish thought. Here's another-- My Work hasn't made me work in a long time. // A previously unremarkable absence has revealed itself to be the missing crucial component of my life's Work. Everyone else has a companion, and I do not--I have watched all of my cohorts complete the mating ritual ahead of me and never spared it a millisecond's thought. My fascination with human biology on a quantum level has led to my eliminating my own Corpus as a source of biology. Whether or not my cohorts are pleased with their spouses, or view this Symposium as a chance to be away from the children they show off, they have used gross anatomy without thought to accomplish the impossible. All they needed was the appropriate bodily fluids and time. I've not been asked to speak at this Symposium because I spend my free time in bodily fluids. None of us have, excepting the gross pathologists. Bodily fluids, however, are essential to the creation of life. Perhaps I ought to have spent more time in bodily fluids. // The past decade I've spent toiling in separate directions appeared before me as a path, as if in a vision--a divergence from where I have been and what I have been Working towards, yes, but it is a path--and the way is unobstructed. Cellular reprogramming in a relatively controlled environment--some persistence and dialect adjustment to negotiate the open-air markets--I drafted and constructed a prototype in a matter of hours. I've no intention of sleeping this evening. I have too much Work ahead of me.

@cowboybrunch @finickyfelix @saturnine-saturneight @ashfordlabs @autism-purgatory

@noblebs @aintgonnatakethis @the-golden-comet @asablehart @mauvecatfic

@leahnardo-da-veggie @sableglass @gioiaalbanoart @words-after-midnight

@lavender-bloom @jev-urisk @wyked-ao3

[ultfreakme]

Jon and Co-dependence: my boy's mad at me. i'm going to make him move in w/ me and make him popcorn

Absolute Power: Super Son gave me a lot to think about. In terms of writing I really can't complain, it was executed very well for a one-shot. But in terms of characters, I'm frustrated(in a way indicative of good writing) about Jon and Nia.

This issue does not resolve Jon's problems, it brings them to audience awareness in an explicit manner. People who've been keeping a keen eye on Jon saw this coming since 2021 in SOKE but no writer stated it in clear terms on page this way. Avoidance, denial, and an inability to think in terms of his humanity and only as a tool or a part of a whole(family, romance, friendship). Jon knows he's avoidant, he doesn't like thinking about his trauma or talking about it, he will suffer through it alone. Even in his deepest, most lowest moment, he speaks of his own trauma in terms of his family.

His autonomy and individuality have been slowly chipped away by the prospect of being Superman. Superman does not live for himself, he takes risks and sacrifices himself for the greater good. That label and the shadow of his father in that suit has been following him since he was 9-10 years old.

The only thing Jon seems to want solely for himself, is Jay.

Up until this point, Jon has been fairly chill and normal about seemingly on the surface. Their relationship was always very sweet, they were always on the same page and never had a reason to fight. There is a deep admiration and respect between them. But the understanding, the ability to see the person for who they are at their core, has yet to happen.

Regardless of that, Jon loves Jay in a way that is damn near unhealthy and codependent.

His love for Jay is what breaks Jon out of Brainiac Queen(BQ)'s control, but it makes him reckless and impulsive. He needs Jay in his life. Throughout the issue, Jay was pointedly not present in the dreams Nia constructed to keep Jon's mind safe from BQ's attack. This is precisely what kept breaking any shield Nia put up.

Jay's absence drives Jon deeper into spiraling. The lies Nia made for Jon never, ever worked because Jay was missing. A dream of his which Nia repeatedly showed Jon and which Jon has admitted is his wish to move to San Fran and get an apartment with Jay in it.

Nia gave him the apartment and the city but not the man and that always, ALWAYS broke Jon out. When Nia isn't around to keep things in-check, Jon just spontaneously remembers Jay on his own and inserts him into the dreamscape.

Nia built those dreams to protect Jon, but also to help him in fighting back but Jon was extremely weak to BQ's control regardless of those efforts. The only time Jon manages to find the strength to fight back is when Nia drops the dreams and instead just shows him the truth of BQ and acknowledges his trauma. She correctly identified that Jon needs help to fight back, but not through falsehoods, but through the truth.

That's when Jon fights back and breaks out of the control. At every turn, Jay and the things he stands for are what pull Jon out of false comfort.

There's those phrases right? Sweet dreams. Ugly truths. That's Nia and Jay.

The reality with Jay is nothing like a dream but Jon would rather take the pain of reality than be trapped in fake happiness. There was a pattern in the issue where Jon kept texting Jay after every dream session with the Amazonians. Jay checking in asking if he's okay, Jon replying he's 'totally fine' despite not feeling like that. Jay was his guide to the truth in SOKE, AOSJK, and now Super Son.

Jon's had his reality fucked with a LOOOOOOOT. Manchester Black, Waller & BQ, Injustice Universe, and the whole space trip. Jon has had this existential turmoil since he was a child, it was made worse by his trip to space with Jor-El. The impossibility of his existence is frequently emphasized. Most people see it as a miracle, Jon sees it as point of fear and doubt about his existence. He needs something, anything to stay above the surface and that is Jay.

Like, it is now canon, that Jay is Jon's tether to reality. He is the one thing he will selfishly ask for himself and by golly is he selfish about it. He clings. It's a repeated pattern.

The night they become official, the tendencies start showing.

SOKE establishes that Jay is always the one letting go, and Jon is always the one holding on by any means necessary. This leads to so truly ✨Problematic✨decisions on Jon's part.

A list, if I may:

Gives Jay a new suit and half-proposes to him with a legion ring

Nearly fights Batman over him

Goes to Jay's counterpart in the injustice-verse with no evidence of if he may be good or not and just trusts him blindly

Took Jay to his own Fortress of Solitude and planned on keeping him there during the Siege of Gamorra

Burst in through a wall because he thought Jay was in danger

Asks to move in with him and move across the country with him

Safe to say, Jon needs Jay in some deep, fundamental, and kind of unhealthy way. The last one happens when Jay suggests it's not going to work between them if Jon insists he must forgive Nia. You don't define your own reality based on one person if you don't got issues, and unfortunately Jay does dish it like it is and calls himself the truth so like Jay was doomed from the second he opened his mouth and posted his recordings online.

Jay suggested breaking it off-- for understandable reasons- and within five minutes Jon dropped his very first "I love you" to Jay and asked him to move in with him.

This kind of leads to Jon deifying Jay and not seeing him entirely as a person. Jay is deeply upset about his mother's death, when Jon just rush at him with moving in together, Jay cries but doesn't immediately agree. He actually pulled away and seemed like he might have protested if not for the Amazonians calling Jon in to stop Waller.

Jay's relationship with Jon is filled with this, and Jay has to call Jon out to slow down and address Jay's issues(this makes him sound so bad, he really isn't, he' just gets too caught up in "protect him protect him protect him" mode when he's under distress). He does this when Jon is about to leave him to go fight Bendix, and in AOSJK when Jon's being all happy about getting to go out freely in public while Jay's stuck wearing disguises.

Jon's tendency to view Jay as his tether leads to him dismissing Jay's very human, raw and awful emotions. It's why he's so shocked when Jay feels nothing about Nia's death. It's also why he's quick to just ignore the topic and because yeah he feels terrible about it but if he keeps pushing this, Jay will leave him.

Jay's story.....is one of a loss of autonomy, just as much as Jon's. It happens in how he gains his powers, the way Nia betrayed him, the loss of his secret identity which he HEAVILY relied on to convey news, the seeming loss/ lowered involvement with The Truth news streams, and frequently with Jon where Jon chips at it with his desperate need to keep Jay by his side.

Jay doesn't dream of San Fran. Jay doesn't dream of shared apartments. No one has yet to properly let Jay cry about the loss of his country and his mother. Jon's avoidance strategy HURTS Jay here in an immense way.

If this keeps going, this relationship is going to break. Jay's always putting up with this, with Jon, because at this moment, he has no family. Jon is his closest tie to anyone, he can't let him go either because if he does he loses his entire support system but he's willing to since he actually prioritizes his grief over his mother. Jon centering Jay as a concept around his desire for himself is going to cause huge problems in the future.

Anyways, Jon's a freak, free Jay. Stan toxic yaoi.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi, can I get the following with Max please:

- Gluten free crust

- Red sauce

- Olives

- Peperoni

- Jalapeños

- Chicken

- Roasted peppers

- Ham

- Argula

- Pulled pork

- Beer

- Pepsi

- Root beer

- Dessert

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" chicken "Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" roasted peppers "Such a good whore" ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" arugula "I love stretching this pussy out" chorizo "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" beer edging pepsi oral kink root beer daddy kink served by Max Verstappen

TW mean max, face fuck, degrading terms, cum swallowing, pussy eating, unprotected set, slight size kink, multiple orgasms, edging, cummin on body

WC 2900+

Y/N POV

"Max they need you in the car now," I shout through the door trying to get Max to get out of his driver's room.

"Leave me alone little Horner," Max says walking past me and brushing shoulders with me quite aggressively. I just roll my eyes at the attitude radiating off of Max.

I just walk in the other direction not wanting to get into it with Max today. I was the daughter of Christian Horner, and Max and I have never gotten along. Even when we were both young teenagers we would still find a way to bicker back and forth. Back when we were younger it would be over stupid things like what type of coffee was better. Now, that we are older and I work for Red Bull Max has taken it upon himself to make sure to make my work life a living hell.

As the race day continues I watch as Checo is excelling on the Baku track while Max is currently fighting to not get overtaken by Lando who started in the back of the grid.

When Lando overtook Max I had to contain my laugh knowing the engineers around me were not enjoying Max's race. I think the race is pretty much a wrap when all of a sudden I watch as Checo and Carlos collide into the way making me cringe as all of Checo's hard work this weekend is down the drain in a matter of seconds.

I brace myself for the shouts that start ringing out in our garage even hearing Ferrari shouting from how loud they had gotten.

When the race finally finished under a VSC I continued watching as Max's starts overtaking Lando and George. I hear Lando start mentioning Max making me smirk a little. I knew he wasn't gonna get into any kind of trouble but it was funny listening in on him getting snitched on.

Once everything starts to calm down from the intense ending of the race I make my way back into the hospitality to pack up my stuff to head back to the hotel and get some rest before my early morning flight tomorrow.

"You're the last person I fucking want to see right now," Max shouts when I walk into one of the conference rooms to gather my laptop and the rest of my belongings I left in here during the race.

"I'm just getting my stuff," I say softly not wanting to get into a screaming match with Max.

"I'm sure you are," Max says rolling his eyes like I had told some lie.

"What are you getting at Max?" I snap at him when I make it to the corner where my bag of stuff is sitting.

"I just think it's ironic you just so happen to always be where I am. It's like you're fucking obsessed with me," Max says while standing up and approaching me, making me start to back up slightly.

When my back hits the wall Max is now standing face to face with me.

"Max, back up," I whisper starting to get a bit scared. Max and I had always gone at it but he had also never once gotten into my face before.

"Come back to my hotel with me. I'm fucking exhausted from fighting off the sexual frustration," Max says making me gasp before laughing slightly.

"you're fucking insane if you think we have sexual tension between us and you need to go to a mental hospital if you thought THAT would work on me," I say before pushing him back and attempting to try and leave.

When Max grabs my wrist I groan knowing he wasn't done with the conversation.

"One night, let me fuck you till the sunrises and then we go back to whatever this is," Max says making me step to him so we are back to being chest to chest.

"No," I simply say trying to turn around again but stop in my tracks when Max shouts again.

"One fucking night," Max shouts. I instantly turn back around pushing at his chest a little making him stumble.

"Max if I go back with you and you don't have me on the edge of cumming within 5 minutes I'm getting up and going back to my room," I tell him sternly.

"I only need 2," Max says cockily making me shake my head before leaving the room.

When I get back to my hotel room I take a quick shower and get partially ready kind of hoping the plans between Max and I weren't just a heated discussion after a bad race.

I'm not even halfway through brushing my teeth when I get a notification on my phone letting me know Max had texted me. When I finished brushing I picked up my phone to see what Max said

"Be here in 10. 342"

I quickly change before stepping out of my room to head for the elevator to head up to Max's room. I feel like I should be having doubts but to be quite frank, I have wanted Max for far longer than I want to admit. He was right there has been sexual tension between us for years but neither one of us trying to admit it.

When I get in front of his hotel room I hesitate before knocking knowing whatever happens tonight will change everything.

"On time, I'm fucking shocked," Max says when he opens the door to let me in.

"Max, what the hell are you on about?" I snap at him not even being able to last 30 seconds without us fighting.

"You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" Max says casually making me stop in my tracks and stare at him.

"You're a fucking dick. And don't flatter yourself you have 5 minutes starting now," I say making Max instantly approach me and pull me in for one of the most intense and aggressive makeout sessions I have ever been a part of. I can feel the sparks flying almost instantly. Max picks me up and carries me into the other room where his bed is before he places me on the bed and starts pulling up my shirt making my breath hitch slightly.

When Max has my shirt off he instantly unclips my bra and flings it across the room before pushing me down softly to lie down.

As soon as my back hits the mattress I feel Max's hands making quick work at pulling my pants down leaving me completely bare in less than a minute.

"neuken," Max mumbles making me lift my head slightly. I've known Max long enough to have picked up on some of his Dutch.

"What," I snap worried that something was wrong.

"God the prettiest pussy," Max mumbles before diving right in and pulling my clit into his mouth and instantly sucking it making me arch my back and throw my head back.

"Fuck, Max," I whine when I feel his fingers teasing my entrance.

"How are you already this fucking soaked," Max groans into my pussy sending a new set of vibrations to my clit making me whine again.

"You, Max. It's always been you," I groan when I make eye contact with him. I can see the smirk written all over his face.

Max dives back making me whine. When two of his fingers slip into my tight pussy I instantly scream in pleasure feeling my orgasm approach far faster than I wanted.

"You're fucking close already," Max pulls away slightly to making sure to keep finger fucking me making me moan and nod my head.

"Yes, daddy," I moan without thinking making both Max and I stop almost instantly and stare at each other.

"Daddy?" Max questions with a smirk and before I can even say anything he's fucking me with his fingers far faster than he was previously.

"Max I'm gonna fucking cum," I moan out making Max pull his fingers out leaving me on the edge.

"What the fuck," I shout sitting up slightly so I can look Max in the eyes.

"Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" Max questions with a smirk making me wanna slap his.

"5 minutes are up. I'm leaving," I say while trying to get up but Max is instantly holding me down not letting me move.

"You said I had 5 minutes to bring you to the edge of cumming, I did," Max says with a smirk taking my words far to literal than I would have hoped.

"Max just make me fucking cum," I say getting frustrated, never being good at handling being edged even though it's one of my favorite things.

"No, not until I get my little nickname again," Max says with a smirk making me scoff and shake my head no.

"Well until then I'm gonna enjoy this pussy," Max says before putting his fingers back into my pussy making me gasp before he starts licking my clit bringing all the pleasure flooding back into my body making me moan.

"Fuck, Max so good," I whine. I knew my orgasm was approaching but instead of announcing it, I tried to hide it.

"Always such a fucking brat," Max says when he pulls his fingers out and moves his mouth from my pussy denying my orgasm again.

"Max," I say seriously.

"No, you know what you need to do, and don't be a fucking brat and try to hide it. I know this body far more than you think," Max says sternly before sending a harsh slap on my pussy making me jump slightly.

Max doesn't waste much time to start playing with my pussy again and it doesn't take me long for my orgasm to slowly start approaching again.

"Fuck," I moan feeling myself crawling to the edging and needing to cum.

"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Max says making me whine.

"Please Daddy, let me cum," I finally break down and beg how Max wanted. This had Max speeding up his actions and throwing me over the edge within moments.

"Fuck, Daddy," I scream when he keeps fucking me even after helping me ride through my orgasm.

"God, you scream too good," Max says finally pulling away after torturing me with overstimulation for a few moments.

When I catch my breath I sit up softly getting out of bed before standing in front of Max pulling him in for another kiss and starting to work on undressing him.

When Max is finally undressed I pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed before getting on my knees for him.

"Such a good whore" Max mumbles when he sees me on my knees getting ready to pull him into my mouth.

When I finally get ready to pull Max into my mouth I realize just how big he was. I hesitate slightly not knowing if I would be able to take him all the way into my mouth but decide there is only one way to find out.

When I pull his tip into my mouth I can taste the salty precum he was already leaking making me suck it up getting addicted on the taste.

When I start bobbing my head I realize Max would still have another inch or so left that I wouldn't be able to take into my mouth so I bring one of my hands to jerk off the rest.

"Fuck, your mouth is finally useful," Max says making me groan around his cock and pinch his thigh with my free hand.

When I pull back from Max's cock I feel the my spit trailing from his cock to my lips making the scene all the more erotic.

I take a few deep breaths before getting back to work on Max's cock needed to make him cum.

I could tell Max was getting close faster than I thought he would which had me bobbing my head faster trying to take all of him into my mouth, before Max is pushing my head down making me gag while he starts cumming down my throat.

I can feel some of his cum leak out of my lips from how hard I was gagging around his cock but Max didn't seem to care too much as it make his hips buck trying to ride his orgasm out.

"Swallow every last bit. NOW!" Max demands when he pulls my head from his dick making me swallow instantly.

"You're a messy slut now," Max says with a smirk making me look over to the mirror that was in the room. When I see my face I have tears running down my cheeks, my freshly washed hair was all over the place, all the while my lips were swollen and pink and covered in my spit and Max's cum. He was right I was messy.

Max roughly wipes my lips rubbing my spit and his cum smearing it on my cheek before he is pulling me in for a heated makeout session again.

"I need to feel that pussy around my cock," Max mumbles against my lips making me whine. I nod my head letting him know I wanted it too.

"Fuck me please daddy," I beg.

This has Max hauling me off my knees before being roughly tossed onto the bed where Max is on me within seconds.

We spent several minutes making out and grinding on each other before Max was fully around again and I was soaked.

I feel Max's cock teasing my entrance making me arch my back in anticipation. When he slowly starts pushing in making me whine at the stretch.

"I love stretching this pussy out," Max groans once he was fully filling me up, giving me only a few moments to adjust before he starts slowly rocking his hips making me whine.

"So big," I gasp out when I feel him hit my cervix for the 3rd time in a row. The pain and burn of being stretched was starting to fade and all I could feel was the pure pleasure coursing through my body now.

"I'm not gonna last Daddy," I moan out warning him of the strong orgasm that was currently impending.

"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. Your wrapped around my cock like a fucking slut being all sweet now. If I would have known this would work I would've fucked you years ago," Max groans through clenched teeth making his thrust even harder but keeping the same brutally fast pace.

"I'm gonna cum daddy," I announce just before exploding into my first squirting orgasm making my pleasure fly all over both Max and I. I can hear Max groan but I'm so lost in the pleasure I don't even feel him pull out and start unleashing his load of cum all over my stomach.

"Fuck," Max shouts which finally brings me back enough making me realize I was now covered in cum, but I was far too blissed out to care.

Max only took a couple of seconds before he got up and threw on a pair of boxers. I knew if I tried to stand right now my legs would give out on me but I didn't want to overstay my welcome so I slowly start pulling myself out of bed feeling Max's cum start sliding down my body making me cringe slightly at the thought of putting my clothes on top of it.

"What are you doing," Max says while holding a rag and watching me attempt to get up.

"I figured you wanted me to leave," I tell him softly while still pulling myself together before standing up. But before my feet can even touch the ground Max is on me.

"Lay down," Max says softly showing me a completely new side of him. He starts with wiping my face down making sure to clean all of the spit and cum off of it before wiping my tummy clean of his cum before throwing the rag somewhere in the room and crawling into bed next to me.

"I might be a dick, but I would not let you stumble back to your hotel room covered in my cum like that," Max tells me softly pulling me into his chest so I can rest my head on him.

"Where do we go from here," I ask softly.

"I think we should start with being nicer to each other and maybe admitting there's always been more," Max replies making me nod my head.

"I know we did it backward but I don't want to rush anything," I tell him softly. He just nodded in agreement before pulling me in a little tighter.

" We don't rush anything but I want to be exclusive," Max says firmly.

"I can do that," I reply making him not his head.

"Fly home with me tomorrow," Max says randomly making me laugh a little.

"What happened to not rushing," I joke but nod my head in agreement knowing I definitely do want to fly with him. Even if it means exposing ourselves to a few of his grid friends.

It didn't take long for sleep to take over my body and right before I was fully asleep I felt Max place a soft kiss on the top of my head mumbling a soft I love you.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

M O O N L I G H T ™

Chapter III

It's late, and the last thing I expect to find at my nightly workout is my little bro, dressed up like a personal trainer. He looks ridiculous in that cheesy uniform, not to mention the light pouring out of his skull and the smile stamped into his face! I guess the little idiot signed up for Moonlight™: that was one helluva mistake!

"Good evening, sir," my brother speaks as if we hadn't grown up together, "Is there any way I can aid your fitness journey tonight?"

Hearing Ryan call me 'sir' brings a devious grin to my own face. I've bullied this kid for years, and now he's kissing my ass like well-trained puppy. Thanks to Moonlight™, my annoying little bro is just a mind controlled employee who doesn't realize his brother's here, let alone embarrassing him! I wish I could get my entire family implanted with these little Moonlight™ things. Messing with them would be hilarious!

"Oh yeah," I sneer, "And what's string bean gonna do for a guy like me?"

"Well, sir, as a personal trainer here at Planet Fitness, I'll gladly demonstrate how to use the machines, spot patrons with heavy-lifting, and return equipment when finished."

God, he sounds even more annoying than usual! "You really think a someone like you could spot me?" I scoff and bring my bicep to his face, flexing it inches away from his perpetually open eyes.

"Actually, sir, this body can lift 260 lbs on the bench press without injury. The load you have is well-enough below to ensure that I may be of service. Still sir, the weight you're lifting is a very respectable amount," Ryan's smile beamed at me, but mine fell.

"Whatever, I'll be fine," I retort, "Just stand over there and mop up my sweat when I'm done."

"Yes, sir."

My little brother takes a step back as I get ready to lift. As stupid as he looks, standing there waiting on me to finish, he also looks pretty fit. His company polo might be sweaty and gross, but it's tight against his improving physique. He's clearly been lifting a lot while he's been working here, but his gains should not count if Moonlight™ is the one actually working out that pathetic little body! The only way he could bulk up was by becoming a fucking puppet! Talk about sad!

"Fuck!" I grunt, tossing the barbell back as I finish. I did a few extra sets to prove a point and now my arms are on fire. "Towel!" I snap.

"Yes, sir," Ryan rushes over and wipes the sweat off my brow. I just laugh in his face.

"I think I got some sweat on my sneakers too," I jab, "You can wipe them off and then put twenty more pounds on the bar."

"Of course, sir."

My brother gets on his knees with the towel, giving my sneakers a cursory buff. I don't know what personal trainer has shoe-shining in his job description, but I've heard these Moonlight™ employees can be pretty pliant. Apparently, you can make them do quite a bit with the loopholes in their programming. Maybe I can get Ryan here to do something even more embarrassing than polishing his big bro's shoes!

The next week, I worked out every night.

Turns out, bullying my little bro was great motivation to go to the gym! When I saw him during the day, I never mentioned the fact that I knew; didn't want to scare him off. At night, I had every opportunity to take out my frustrations on him. If he pissed me off during the day, I could boss him around at the gym, ordering him to follow me around and wipe down every piece of equipment. I could call him whatever names I wanted and yell at him as loudly as I pleased; he had to just stand there with the best customer service smile and say "yes, sir."

Playing around with Ryan was fun, but it wasn't until I went out for a drink that I ran into my second brother. I guess he had the same idea to get hired with Moonlight™...

"Can I fix you a drink, sir?" my brother, the middle child, yells over the club's EDM.

"What the hell?" I shout, "Ryan's dumb enough to Moonlight™, but I didn't think you were!"

Sam just stares back with the same flashlight eyes and widely stretched lips. Of course his programming won't let him do anything outside of bartending! He's probably not even conscious in there! Ryan was always a bit of an impulsive twerp, so I wasn't surprised to see him Moonlighting™, but Sam is different. He'd said he'd never put his body to work at night. Something about the behavior of Moonlighters™ always rubbed him the wrong way...I guess he changed his mind.

"A round of beers," I tell him, warily gesturing to the back corner, "For me and our crew."

Sam's glowing stare looks over my shoulder and sees our friends, the guys we both hang out with, "Yes, sir. I'll have it right out for you."

I return to our pals, anxious for my brother to follow. Sam is only a year younger than myself, so we run around with the same crowd, yet he didn't recognize any of our buds. Now he's about to serve them like a fucking waiter. My catatonic brother is about to walk into the most humiliating situation of his life. I just get to sit back and watch!

"Sam?" one of them asks a moment later.

"Here are your beers, sir," my brother plucks the bottles off his tray and sets them out for each of his friends, completely oblivious to their stunned reactions, "Is there anything else I can get any of you?"

"Holy crap, dude!" another pal turns to me, "Since when did your brother start Moonlight? He looks like a total idiot!"

Sam doesn't seem to register the insult.

"I don't know man," I laugh, "Tonight, I guess."

"Fetch us some napkins," one guy quips with an amused flick of his hand.

"Right away, sir." Sam answers a little too promptly, and whisks away.

"Right away, sir, Ha!" the guy repeats with a mock salute, "We've gotta mess with him!"

Sam returns, obediently passing out napkins, but I'm finding it harder to meet his gaze while he's grinning so manically. This situation is starting to feel more awkward than hilarious. These guys will never let him live this down!

"Sam, get over here and give this paying customer a sloppy BJ!"

My brother stiffens, and for a second a jolt of fear runs down my spine, terrified that Moonlight™ will actually make him comply. Pranks are all good and fun, but I do not want to see my brother about to blow another dude!

"I apologize, sir," he finally resumes, "That is not part of my responsibilities as bartender."

Thank God.

"Then get something to clean this up," he laughs wildly, "You spilled my beer!" Our friend then pours half his drink on the crotch of his jeans, staring at Sam with the amused eyes of a drunk fool. This guy always gets weird after a few drinks. I don't know why we still bring him along. Normally, we just ignore him.

"Of course, sir," Sam answers attentively.

For the next ten minutes, I sit in silent horror as my brother returns with a rag, proceeding to get on his knees and wipe down another man's crotch with painful dedication. Of course, our friends are all howling with laughter at this point, taking video evidence that they can embarrass Sam with later.

It feels like a lifetime, but Sam finally stands up, "I hope I cleaned that up well enough for you, sir."

The guy feels at his wet jeans, saying, "I don't know if that's good enough, bitch."

"I'm sorry, sir, let me try ag-"

"No! It's my turn," someone else cuts in, pushing his way to the front, "You spilled some on my ass that needs cleaned up!"

The gang loses it, doubling over with laughter as Sam prepares to spend the next ten minutes wiping down another guy's ass, but I've had enough, "No! We're done here, thank you. Go close our tab," I bark.

"Yes, sir," Sam turns on his heel. His dumb obedience is more disturbing than entertaining at this point.

Our friends all give me a hard time for sending him away, but I'm not having it. Maybe I'm not drunk enough, but they're enjoying this a lot more than I am. At this point, I'm ready to call it a night and go home, so I say my goodbyes and head for the exit.

The walk home isn't a far one, but I pass a few notable places on the way: one being my dad's dark office building. Our old man has been working late nights there lately. In the dimly lit lobby, I recognize someone...

"Dad?" I gasp.

"Good evening, sir," my father says to me without any note of familiarity in his voice.

"Wait, you're moonlighting too?" it comes out as more of an accusation, but at this point I'm fed up with finding family members secretly working random mind-controlled night jobs.

"I am a security guard employed through the Moonlight™ corporation," his gravelly voice sounds foreign, delivering these programmed prompts, "If you'd like, sir, I can help you apply for a Moonlight™ position, and you can start making the most of your sleeping hours too!"

"Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea, dad?" I ask, knowing this stupid security guard persona isn't capable of answering.

"He didn't."

The voice of someone else in the room sends shivers down my spine. I whip around, and see a gangly, middle-aged man stepping forward.

"Jeff?"

"Hi, Jamie," my uncle says, sauntering up to his far taller brother and resting an arm on his shoulder. My dad's attentive posture doesn't waver. He just keeps on acting like the perfect sentry for the building and the perfect armrest for his brother.

"Do you mind telling me what's going on!?"

He sniffles and sighs like he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Yes, I suppose this charade of mine was doomed to be found out sooner or later. I put your father in the Moonlight™ database. He was just wasting his sleeping hours at home in his bed, and he'd always refuse to let me sign him up, so I did it in secret. He makes a great guard. Right Tom?"

Uncle Jeff claps my dad on the back, prompting him to announce a proud, "Yes, sir!"

"See," my uncle turns back to me, "No harm done. Your old man gets paid to stand around in his sleep. Its harmless!"

"But he doesn't know!" I yell, seething at my uncle's sheer abuse of his place in the company, "This has to be illegal, and are you just pocketing Dad, Ryan, and Sam's salaries?"

He rolls his eyes, "I am right now, but the four of you don't even make that much."

"Did you just say the four of us?" I grunt.

"Oops," he holds a hand to his forehead and curses under his breath.

"AM I FUCKING MOONLIGHTING WHILE I SLEEP TOO?" I am screaming at this point, "You're fucked up!" I bark. Angrily, I stomp towards my uncle, but my father takes a firm step planting himself between me and the man. His steady palm is holding the baton at his belt, making me nervous. Is my dad about to beat me up for this creep?

"Excuse me, sir," my dad smiles at my uncle, "Would you like me to escort this man out of the building?"

"That won't be necessary," my uncle says, "I'll just trigger his Moonlight™ shift to start now. You can go back to standing in the corner"

"Yes, sir," my security guard father answers placidly, returning to his attentive stance.

"You wouldn't," I snarl.

"Oh, trust me, I will. As I understand it, overriding a subject's body while awake means you'll be fully conscious. I'll work on something to make you forget this whole incident later."

He presses a few buttons on an ipad, and suddenly my vision is engulfed in a purple haze. My back straightens, my muscles relax, and I feel my face contorts into a giant smile. Suddenly, my entire body seems to be gone from my grasp, and I'm constrained to a tiny space in my head while something else takes over.

"Enjoy your shift," my uncle snickers with a glare.

"Thank you, sir. I will," I feel my voice pushed out of my throat with an excited tone that isn't mine. Before I know it, my legs are carrying me away from my uncle, leaving him with my father, to march down the dark street...

"Here's your order, sir," my voice has the trademarked Moonlight™ eagerness in it as I reach out the window and hand over the meal.

"Fuck off, sleep-freak!" the teen in the driver's seat flips me off, making his immature friends cackle as they speed off. I can't do anything but smile and watch as they weave away. They have no idea I'm actually conscious in here.

After being forced to leave my uncle, I found myself striding into a fast food restaurant through its backdoor. I could instantly tell the place wasnt anywhere I'd eat at because the dumpster smelled like soggy fries and old meat. The kitchen was a fluorescent-lit pit, with a thick feeling of oil hanging in the air. I could barely take in the surroundings before I was changing out of my clothes by some lockers. I was horrified that Moonlight™ was making me fucking strip, but before long my hands were pulling on new clothes: a uniform. The polo felt like it'd been sitting at the bottom of the locker since the last shift, drying in sweat, and the pants were sticky with something unidentifiable. I was mortified to be pulling on a fucking hairnet and apron, but I had no choice.

"Blondie's here early," a smoker's voice purred from behind me. I had a bad feeling he'd been standing there for a while, watching.

"Hello boss," my voice answers, apparently recognizing the overweight, unshaved creep, "I'm ready to start my shift, sir! Where am I needed today?"

I watched as the man licked his stubbly lips, his beady eyes crawling all over me. Without any shame, his sweaty palm groped the growing bulge in his khakis. He was obviously happy to see me, and he probably thought I couldn't actually see him! I guess, every fucking night that my uncle's made me work in my sleep, I've been under the supervision of THIS pervert!?

"Get to the fryer," his scratchy throat moaned, "You know I want you to get nice and sweaty for later."

"Yes, sir. I'll be sure to work up a sweat for you," I answer, confused and disturbed by my response. The cheer in my voice did not match the overwhelming gloom I felt when the man slapped my ass. His hand lingered on my rear for too long, but I couldn't even frown.

Since then, I've been boiling fries and flipping burgers. Every so often I have to hand an order out the window, but my heart races every time I do. Three orders ago, the customer threw their soda back at my coworker, he's a fairly average guy in his thirties, and he was dowsed in Coca-Cola. It didn't keep Moonlight™'s programming from working: he just kept manning the grill, smiling, eyes glowing, and hair dripping with cherry flavored juice.

"Ouch!" at least, that's what I want to say. The oil sizzles and pops, and a few drops of hot grease splatter onto my arm, but I don’t flinch. The control won’t let me.

Suddenly I feel someone leaning in behind me. My spine shivers as my manager says, "It's closing time, Blondie. I'll send everyone home so you and I can clean up like usual." He whispers it in my ear, with his flabby arms wrapped around me like we're fucking lovers! I wish I could vomit!

"Sounds good, boss," I find myself saying.

One by one, the manager dismisses each of my moonlighting coworkers. I can't help but feel jealous as they strip out of their uniforms by the door. It isn't just that they get to leave; they also have the luxury of not knowing what's going on. They're all asleep. I'd give anything to at least be unaware of whatever this fucking pervert is about to do!

My body is preoccupied with whatever shit needs to be done for closing, wiping down the tables, taking out the trash, and more.

"Mop time," the manager suddenly announces, holding the raggedy thing out expectantly.

"Yes, sir," my voice answers, and I drop what I'm doing to accept the mop. The crotch of his pants is unzipped, but my bodies already turned away from him, turning all my attention to swab the tiles floor.

"You're doing it wrong again, Blondie," he purrs slowly, "I'm gonna have to help you like usual."

"Thank you, sir," my voice sounds grateful, but I am anything but. The pervert presses his rotund body against my back and holds my muscular arms with his own chubby ones. I can feel his penis poking into me below his gut, but my body accepts his touch like he's just a boss helping out an employee.

I guess this asshole found a loophole in Moonlight™'s fucking programming. He's going to touch me all he wants under the guise of demonstrating the right way to mop.

The creep spends the next ten minutes guiding my arms back and forth. "Fuck, you're bubble butt feels even better than usual, Blondie," he breathes in my ear. If I had control of my muscles, he wouldn't stand a chance, but right now, they're putty in my boss's arms. Meanwhile, his waist gets busy dry humping his chode into my rear end. "I'm so glad a jock like you was dumb enough to try Moonlight!" he grunts, his tongue dangerously close to my ear. I can only thank God that he can't take my pants off! After several painful minutes of him spitting more disgusting comments onto my cheek, his arms drop mine and plant themselves on my chest. His hands sloppily grope my pecs and pinch my nipples. I've never felt more pathetic. The man makes one final exclamation, "FUUUCK!" and I can tell he has finally gotten off.

"Thanks for the help, boss," I find myself saying.

With heavy breaths, he staggers back. The sudden open air on my back makes me realize just how hot and sweaty that slob was, and I can feel the slimy remnants of his balls slipping down my back and legs.

"Good job as always, Blondie," he breathes heavily with satisfaction.

"Thank you, sir," I answer. My voice hasn't lost its awful chipper quality, and my face is still stuck in a smile like I hadn't just been taken advantage of.

"Finish mopping up, and then you can lock up and clock out," he winks as if we shared some inside joke. I hate that all he sees is my smile.

"Yes, sir," I answer, but the creep has already waddled out of the building and slammed the door shut.

The sudden silence is unbearable. It makes the monotonous task of mopping the sticky floors all the more unpleasant. What's worse is that I can't pause to wash the manager's cum off my back. It soaks into my pants as I work, trapped in my own body. At least I know why these pants are so sticky. Honestly, I hope Uncle Jeff will wipe my memory...

[elysiaheaven]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲-𝟮𝟰-(The Fox's Wedding)

Mentions of beheading-( threats for now) ,etc,gore

Words:2489

Jiaoqiu sat beside you in the dim, cold cell, his hand still gently holding your trembling wrists. The silence between you was heavy, but it was only broken by your quiet sobs. He looked at you, his heart aching, desperate to understand the source of your pain. He couldn't stand seeing you like this—so broken, so lost in your own darkness.

"Y/N..." he whispered softly, his voice barely audible. "Tell me. Please, tell me what happened. I need to understand."

His question hit you like a blade, and suddenly, the walls you had built around your past began to crumble. Your hands shook as you gripped the edge of your torn clothes, feeling like they were suffocating you. You looked at him with wide, terror-filled eyes, shaking your head. "No... no... you don't want to know. I'm—I'm evil, Jiaoqiu," you choked out, your voice cracking as the words tore from your throat. "I'm a monster. I deserve this."

Jiaoqiu's eyes filled with sorrow and confusion. He couldn't understand how you could believe something so cruel about yourself. "What are you talking about? You're not evil, Y/N. How could you—"

"Stop!" you screamed, clutching your head as memories from the past surged like a flood, drowning you. "I killed... I killed them, Jiaoqiu!" Your voice cracked as you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably. "It's my fault... I deserve to die!"

Jiaoqiu's breath caught in his throat. "Killed who? What are you talking about? You... you protected people, didn't you? That'swhat he sounded like..." His voice faltered as he tried to piece it together.

But you were beyond reason now, lost in the twisted, painful echoes of your past. "It was me! I was supposed to save them! But I failed. I let them die, all of them. The village... everyone trusted me, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't save anyone. I killed his brother... I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I did was bring more death!"

Your voice rose in a raw, agonized scream. "I deserve this pain! I deserve to die, Jiaoqiu! Please, kill me... just end this. Save Feixiao. She deserves a life unlike me. You all do!"

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened in shock as he knelt in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm your shaking form. "Y/N, listen to me!" he urged, his voice filled with desperation. "Feixiao, she...We all need you. You didn't kill anyone, not like that. You're not the monster you think you are. Please, don't say this. You're not alone in this."

But you couldn't stop the overwhelming tide of guilt and self-loathing that consumed you. You were trembling violently now, barely able to breathe. "You have to kill me, Jiaoqiu," you whispered, your voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. "Please, just... do it. Hoolay will keep hurting you. I don't deserve to live. You'll all be better off without me."

Jiaoqiu's grip on you tightened, and he pulled you into his chest, cradling you against him as you cried, his heart breaking with every sob that escaped you. "I'm not going to kill you, Y/N. Never. I won't let Hoolay's lies destroy you. You're stronger than this, stronger than him. I won't let you give up on yourself."

You cried harder, the weight of his words crashing over you like a tidal wave. He held you tightly, refusing to let you fall into the abyss of your despair. "We're getting out of this," Jiaoqiu whispered fiercely. "You're not dying here. Not today. Not ever. I won't let you."

You sat there, shaking, staring into nothingness as you began to tell Jiaoqiu the truth—the truth you had buried so deep inside, it had taken this nightmare with Hoolay to force it out. The cold of the prison walls seemed to disappear as you became lost in your memories, pulling at the tangled threads of a past you had almost forgotten.

"There was a village," you started, your voice hoarse, as if the words were choking you. "A hidden village, secret but known... One of the Luofu ships... They weren't supposed to be there, but people—spirits—they lived there anyway, helping other ships by trading goods. It was like... a place where the lost people, the forgotten souls, came together."

Jiaoqiu's hand tightened on yours as you spoke, but he remained silent, listening intently.

"There was a leader," you continued, your eyes glossing over as the images filled your mind. "A foxian with nine tails... Eiji. He was... beloved, the perfect leader. He was always around, laughing with everyone, eating with the villagers... no one questioned him. We were all spirits, or... we thought we were."

You paused, swallowing hard, feeling your heart pound painfully in your chest as the memories resurfaced. "No one remembered their past. Not me, not anyone. I was just... a baker. I ran a small restaurant where everyone came to eat, even the Cloud Knights. They'd come from other ships, and we'd feed them. It was... a happy life. Or so I thought."

Jiaoqiu was watching you closely now, his eyes darkening with concern, but you couldn't stop. The story had to come out.

"One day..." You faltered, your hand shaking as you reached for your stomach, as if you could still feel the pain. "I got burned. Just a small burn while cooking. But... spirits aren't supposed to get hurt. I didn't know what it meant, but I... I started to remember things. Little flashes. Pieces of something... someone else."

Your voice cracked, and Jiaoqiu gently squeezed your hand, his silent way of urging you to continue.

"Then, Hoolay's brother came. A monster," you whispered, your voice trembling. "He threatened us, demanded food, threatened our peace... Everyone believed they were safe because they were spirits. They thought nothing could hurt them. But Eiji... he knew. He knew the truth. He asked some of us—chefs like me—to cook for the monsters. To feed them so they wouldn't hurt us. But those chefs... they never came back."

You bit your lip hard, trying to hold back the tears. "I didn't understand why... but I had these memories. Flashes of talking to someone—a friend. I remembered... I was good at poisons. So I made a decision. I cooked the food, but I added the poison."

Jiaoqiu's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't interrupt.

"Hoolay's brother... he ate the food, and when he realized he was dying, he... he almost killed me. He slashed my stomach open." You gestured to your abdomen, the phantom pain making your breath hitch. "But... spirits don't get hurt."

"I blacked out. And when I did... I remembered everything."

Your voice broke as the weight of the truth crashed down on you. "I wasn't a spirit. None of us were. We were people... kidnapped, brainwashed by Eiji. He erased our pasts, gave us new lives, new stories, to fit his perfect little world. We were puppets, living in harmony... But it was all a lie. And I... I broke free of his spell."

Jiaoqiu's face was pale, his eyes filled with horror as the truth sank in. "You... you weren't just a chef," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "You were the one who stopped Hoolay's brother."

You nodded, tears falling freely now. "I killed him. I thought I was saving the village. But when Eiji realized I was no longer under his control, he spread rumors. He told everyone I was the one who aided the monsters. He made them believe I had betrayed them, that I was the one responsible for the deaths."

You broke down, burying your face in your hands. "I don't deserve to live, Jiaoqiu. I killed his brother... I betrayed the village... I'm a monster, just like them."

Jiaoqiu pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you sobbed against his chest. "No," he whispered fiercely. "You're not a monster. You were trying to protect them... you were manipulated, controlled... just like everyone else."

But the guilt and shame had wrapped themselves around your heart like chains, pulling you deeper into despair. "I deserve to die... for everything I've done."

The memories spilled out of you like a flood, the weight of the truth seemed almost unbearable. But there was one part of it that, as dark and twisted as it was, had given you a grim satisfaction. You wiped your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, and your voice turned cold as you began to speak again.

"Killing him... Hoolay's brother," you whispered, your voice hollow. "It was the best part."

Jiaoqiu looked at you, shocked, his arms still around you but tense now as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"He deserved it," you continued, your eyes distant, fixated on some invisible scene only you could see. "After all the pain he caused... the suffering... the torment, I didn't just poison him to stop him. When I knew he was dying, when I saw the life drain from his eyes, I didn't stop there."

You lifted your gaze to Jiaoqiu, your eyes filled with a mix of darkness and regret. "I beheaded him."

The words felt like venom on your tongue, bitter but true. "I wanted to make sure he could never come back. Never hurt anyone else. I watched him writhe in agony, watched him choke on his last breath. Then I took his head. It was... satisfying."

Jiaoqiu swallowed hard, his grip on you loosening as he processed your confession. His face was pale, but his eyes remained steady, filled with a mixture of shock and pain.

You let out a bitter laugh, one that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside you—somewhere dark. "That's how Hoolay would kill me if he wanted to. I know it. He would do it the same way I killed his brother. He'd take my head, and he'd enjoy every second of it."

Jiaoqiu's face twisted with sorrow as you spoke, his hands gently holding your shoulders as if trying to pull you back from the edge. "Y/n...," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not that person. You didn't have a choice."

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time it was not from guilt, but from the overwhelming weight of the truth. "But I did have a choice, Jiaoqiu. I could've stopped with the poison, but I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to be the one to end him, and I did. And now... Hoolay wants me to pay the same price. I deserve it."

"No." Jiaoqiu shook his head, his voice firm despite the pain in his eyes. "You don't deserve to die like that. What you did... it wasn't out of cruelty. It was survival. You were protecting them, protecting yourself. Don't let Hoolay convince you that you're the monster here. He's the one who deserves to pay."

"The monsters... they killed them all," you started, your voice hoarse. "Hoolay's brother was just the beginning. After I killed him, the rest of them came. The borisin—they wanted revenge, and when they couldn't find me... Eiji..." You choked on his name, your fists clenching. "Eiji handed over the entire village. All those people, the ones I thought were my family... he gave them away just to save himself."

Jiaoqiu's eyes were wide with disbelief, horror etched across his face. "Eiji? The village leader... he sacrificed them?"

You nodded, your body shaking with the weight of your confession. "He was a coward. He couldn't find me because I had hidden myself away after I killed Hoolay's brother. So, he made a deal—he gave the villagers to the monsters. All of them. They died believing the lie he had crafted for them, thinking they were spirits, that they couldn't be hurt. But as they died... they realized the truth. That everything they had ever known was fake, a fantasy created by Eiji. They had families, memories, lives outside the village... all stolen from them. And when they died, they knew."

The agony in your voice was almost unbearable as you recalled the sight of those innocent people falling, one after another, as the borisin ravaged the village. "I watched them die, Jiaoqiu. Every single one. I couldn't save them. I couldn't stop it."

"My daughter, I wanted to buy her..that kite! Why am I here!?"

"I promised my beloved...I would return...I can't die..Why did I forget about him?"

Jiaoqiu's hand reached for you, but you pushed him away, the guilt and horror too much to bear. "You don't understand. I found Eiji after that. I found him hiding, shaking, and begging for his life. He said... he said that he had done it to protect us. That the villagers would have died eventually, so there was no harm in what he did."

You spat the words, the anger and hatred still burning within you. "He said he just wanted a family, that he was a lonely spirit, just like the rest of us. He cursed me, Jiaoqiu. He cursed me to understand his pain. He said I would be just like him—forever alone, forever hated, a monster in the eyes of the world."

You shuddered, your fingers gripping your own arms so tightly they left marks. "And then... he tried to kill me. He had a sword, one that could hurt spirits, and he stabbed me with it. But I didn't die. All the curses, all the pain I had endured—it changed me. I became something else. Not a god, but something worse. A spirit of vengeance, a cursed existence."

Your voice cracked as you continued. "I killed him, Jiaoqiu. Slowly. I made him suffer. I tormented him until he couldn't even scream anymore. And when he was finally dead, I... I turned to stone. Locked away by the Luofu, forgotten by everyone except Jingliu."

Jiaoqiu's hand tightened on your shoulder, but you couldn't stop now. "Jingliu knew the truth. She wrote a letter to Jing Yuan, but Hoolay must have intercepted it, twisted the truth. Jing Yuan... he thinks I'm a monster. Just like everyone else."

You sobbed, your tears falling uncontrollably. "I failed. I couldn't save anyone. Not the village, not the children... They died right in front of me, and all I could do was watch."

Jiaoqiu's face was pale, his heart breaking as he listened to your story. "Y/n... I'm so sorry."

But his words couldn't reach you. The weight of the past, the endless pain and suffering, was too much. You couldn't stop the tears, the cries that escaped your throat as you clutched your chest, feeling like the world was collapsing around you.

"I killed them all, Jiaoqiu! I killed them with my weakness. I deserve to die. I deserve to suffer. I couldn't save them, I couldn't save anyone!"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" He shouted.

"If I did...?! You wouldn't killed me! You wouldn't have consider me an option My soul could cure! I thought If I remind as that person the history made me out to be..You would have killed me easily with no regrets..I wouldn't mind it.."

[stil-lindigo]

50% of all revenue for my store, starting now, will be donated to CareforGaza and the PCRF.

[ PURCHASE MY ANTHOLOGIES HERE ]

hi there! i'm lindi. you may have seen some of my comics floating around in the past year or so.

if you’ve ever liked my stories and wanted to purchase a copy of one of my anthologies, I invite you to do so now. This policy will be in place indefinitely, and the list of charities/organisations may be subject to change depending on their effectiveness. Currently, the focus is on providing aid and food to the innocent Palestinians in Gaza, but in the future I hope to increase the scope to tangibly support the queer community and help fund independent artists in Australia.

below, I'll list a few resources for people who'd like to directly donate at the source:

credible organisations that are doing work on the ground in Palestine:

Care for Gaza:non-profit charity that distributes money, food and other resources directly to families in Gaza.They maintain a regular presence on Twitter and Instagram. You can donate to them via Paypal here.

PCRF / Palestine Children's Relief Fund: non-profit organisation that distributes essential food and resources to families in Gaza. Most recently, they delivered 30 tons of vital medicine, and 82,000 pounds of flour.

Medical Aid For Palestinians: deploys medical teams to treat Palestinians suffering under Israel's malicious bombardments.

help people leave palestine (donate what you can)

Save Sanaa and her Family (Gofundme)

Save Amjad Saher and his family (Gofundme)

Help a family of 13 escape Gaza (Gofundme)

Help a Palestinian children's book illustrator save her family of 12 (Gofundme)

[buckingham-ashtray]

The Invisible Clubber........................ SMILING. CAN'T STOP SMILING. LIFE SO HAPPY. LOVE. LOVE LIFE. BEAT GETTING FASTER. CAN'T STOP SMILING. NOW JUST HARMONY. NO BEAT. MELODY. STOP MOVING. SMILE TO THE SKY. ALL STANDING STILL. BEAUTIFUL. NEVER BEEN SUCH HARMONY IN ALL HISTORY. WANT TO KISS EVERYONE. THEY WANT TO KISS ME. BREATHE IN. BREATHE OUT.................

Sebastian's Story.......... Sometimes I wonder what it'll be like to die. I'll find myself drifting off, staring at something, anything and I'll stop blinking. I feel my whole body slowing down... My heartbeat... And I wonder how long it'll be broken

*Sorry that I couldn't find the source where I got this from and have no idea when this was released. If anyone has the link I will be very glad to insert it!

[ancient-day]

I understand that traits don't necessarily say something about the Persona-User, but I've always found it interesting that Robin Hood and Loki help with support skills rather than offensive skills. The only support skill they have is Debilitate, so it only aids Goro a little on his own. It reminds me of Arsène's Pinch Hitter trait because when in a party all on his own, that does nothing for Akira. They both benefit most from having allies to make those traits more useful.

[visdiefje]

Man I can't wait until I can recover alone for a while

[running-in-the-dark]

I think tomorrow I'm gonna make a countdown of how many days are left until we'll move into our apartment

I feel like a whiny child except I'm not even missing my parents or anything like that, no I'm just missing my things and the environment I'm used to and being a able to walk around without being (quite this) anxious (I'm always anxious about that but it's much worse here)

(and it's really mostly my things. all my things in their place where they belong, the way it should be, everything right where I put it)

I just want to leave. I hate being here (at my husband's parents' house). I hate it. already had my first bad interaction with my mother-in-law today and. I can't handle it.

I don't tolerate being told what to do well (like. about things that are my own business. in this case it was about a health issue). I didn't even let my own mother do that when I was a literal child - but at least I could get mad at her. now with my mother-in-law? I just have to smile and nod and feel like I'm dying until she finally leaves.

[outlying-hyppocrate]

positively despising how my consistent personality is leaving me and how i resort to such strange lies