#it is impossible for me to be normal about this

[heartyluv]

Note: Apologies for my abrupt and brief radio silence, luvlys. I missed you guys and worked on this for you at some point while I was gone. I hope you enjoy! 😚

Warning: Smut (protected sex!), please don’t do what reader does in this irl omg LOLLL

Word Count: 2.9K (why can’t i keep anything shortttt)

Summary: Caleb reallyyy likes the new delivery girl.

Horny!Caleb/DeliveryGirl!Reader

Somehow in the span of Caleb ordering himself dinner and waiting for it to arrive, his dick had gotten hard. The desperation to have some sort of relief was overriding any hunger he felt, making it impossible for him to sit still on his living room couch.

It was one of those moments where it just hit him—where nothing necessarily provoked it, but he felt that subtle ache in his sweatpants that became too bothersome to ignore the longer he tried. He wanted to hold out since he wasn’t too keen on the idea of being mid stroke, only to be forced to stop and deal with rushing to wash his hands whilst trying to contain what would inevitably be a very obvious hard-on in the event that his food got to him quicker than he anticipated.

It’s because it’s happened to him before that he’s so wary.

But with the twenty minutes that passed, he couldn’t help but surrender to the greed within him and assured his horny mind that he definitely had it in himself to make it quick—that he could come fast enough before the usual delivery man showed up.

Unfortunately for him, though, at the same moment that he picked up his phone to watch one of his favorited videos while he jerked himself off until he couldn’t take anymore, the bell rang.

If that wasn’t a way to make a man soften, he didn’t know what else could.

“Gotta be kidding me,” he chuckled to himself and shook his head. Throwing his phone down onto the soft cushions, he let out an exaggerated huff as he stood and mentally chastised his cock to behave. Once he approached the door, he fixed his demeanor and briefly checked below the belt to make sure he was presentable before he opened it with a polite smile.

But almost as quickly as he sported it, it dropped just as fast.

It wasn’t Mr. Russo, the older salt and pepper haired pizza delivery man he’s pretty cool with. Instead it was you, a sight so fucking captivating that all intentions he had to disregard the problem in his pants was fair to chalk up as relatively implausible.

You smiled at him so sweetly, the sound of separating velcro grating his nerves as it clashed with and overpowered your whimsical voice when you went to pull his pizza out of its heat-holding bag.

“Good evening!” you chirped. “One large cheese pie with pep and mush for…” Taking a brief look at the receipt on top of the box, you continued. “Caleb?”

He shouldn’t have been getting hard all over again when he saw you in the first place—that was a given. You weren’t some piece of meat, rather just a woman doing her job. But he couldn’t help but be near steel when his name rolled off your tongue, leaving him utterly bewitched as the innocence in your recitation somehow made it even more alluring.

He hated to be brief in his efforts to survey the beauty that is you. From light denim jeans that were damn near painted on to your grey collared uniform shirt with the pizzeria’s logo splayed across your chest doing nothing but outlining the curves of your breasts perfectly, there was no way he could be normal about you.

Oh, and your visor. Yeah, that was cute, too.

“T—That’s me,” he stuttered before clearing his throat, but he couldn’t be embarrassed about the subtle voice crack when your eyes mirrored patience and understanding. It made him wonder what they’d look like when replaced with lust and pleasure.

Would you let him find out?

Selfishly, he wanted to hear more of you. What better to do than spark conversation?

“Mr. Russo doing alright?” he inquired as you handed him his meal. “I don’t think he’s missed a day before.”

“Oh, he’s fine! He’s been busy training a few new hires, so he’s in-store for now. He told me some regulars might be confused to see someone other than him delivering their food,” you chuckled.

“Ah,” Caleb nods, incapable of ignoring the shudder down his spine when your soft fingertips grazed his skin after he took the boxed piping hot cheesy delicacy that was waiting for him. “I assume you’re one of them? I’ve…never seen you before when I went.”

“Yeah, actually. Started two weeks ago.”

“Cool, cool,” he nodded, the insistent throbbing of his cock only getting spurred on the more you held eye contact with him. He was torturing himself at this point, but he couldn’t bare to see you walk away. Not when you’d be a perfect solution.

Realistically though, you couldn’t go anywhere even if you wanted to. He still hadn’t paid you, and it was the fact that you were just standing there in silence with the bag on your side and a calm tolerance etched across your features that made him realize he never got the cash out his wallet after placing his order.

“Shit!” his eyes widened, ultimately failing at shaking away his salacious thoughts when his gaze briefly landed on your plush thighs that he couldn’t help but crave to be in between. “I’m so sorry. Give me a minute. $19.50, right?”

“No worries,” you assure. “Happens to the best of us. And yup, $19.50!”

Just as he turns around to rush and go fetch your payment, a quick thought comes to his mind. He gives you his full attention again, pressing his lips together as he wondered if it was wiser to just let you remain where you are. But Caleb wouldn’t be the man he is if he wasn’t a gentleman.

“You can…” he points a thumb backwards into his apartment. “wait inside if you want. I’m not entirely sure where my wallet is at the moment and I’d feel awful about you waiting in this warm hallway if it takes me a second to find it.”

Well…it is hot. Even though the sun had set, with this heat wave, it was a still a sweltering 85 degrees on this humid July night, and it somehow felt worse as you stood in the clean yet suffocating hall of his building.

But you knew better—you knew you had zero business going into a stranger’s house, let alone a man’s. You should’ve quickly declined already and made sure he knew you didn’t mind waiting as long as you needed to in the uncomfortable temperatures.

Instead, his alluring smile, strong muscles, and captivating voice that he so smoothly exudes, were like kryptonite along with the cool air that wisps against your sweat slicked skin, calling to you from behind him.

Mr. Russo knows him and knew this was my last delivery before I headed back. It’ll be fine. Besides, he seems harmless, and I don’t feel there’s anything to worry about.

You were trying to convince yourself, and it sure enough worked because with the survival skills of a baby deer, you swallowed down your hesitance and accepted his offer before he stepped aside to let you in.

Never did you think that when you woke up this morning, got ready for work, and went about your day until you got the address for your last delivery, that you’d be getting fucked by the customer.

How you got here was just as—if not more—surprising. You have never slept with a stranger before. Ever. But the man getting ready to pop that cherry seemed like a more than suitable candidate.

When you waited for Caleb to find his wallet and two minutes turned to five, a part of you grew concerned when the busying footsteps ceased.

You didn’t anticipate that when you embarked on your search to make sure he was okay, you’d find him in his bathroom with the hem of his white tank top in his mouth to suppress his groans as he desperately pumped his cock in his hand.

A normal and more plausible reaction would’ve been to run out, to apologize profusely for the interruption, to even offer the pizza for free—anything to get you out. But he never stopped touching himself and you couldn’t stop staring as his precum beaded at his flushed tip until he took it to work the sticky substance down his length before it went to waste on the rug.

He had let the fabric fall from between his lips and kept his eyes on you the slower his movements went, abs flexing with any subtle shift. Breathlessly, seemingly still cocky despite the pink tint on his cheeks, he purred with a smirk, “Why don’t you join me? I’ll tip you nicely for your help.”

And it was with great surprise to both of you that you nodded. Not a moment of hesitance was shared when you got closer and let him kiss down your neck as your body pressed into him, feeling the heaviness of his cock against your belly.

Not only was he handsome, but he made you feel a type of arousal that you don’t think you’ve experienced before. It was consuming, foreign—but it was something your mind and body knew only he would be capable of stoking the flames of and dousing them when the time came. Weirdly enough, you trusted him enough to take care of the temple that is your body.

There was no need to prep you, your cunt already slick with desire and clenching fervently in your white cotton panties from the need to have him as deep as you anticipated he’d go. So when you assured him of that and he was given your consent, he bent you over his countertop to make you watch the yearning in your pupils as he pulled a condom out from the drawer.

Only an inkling of gentleness was used when he tugged your jeans and the thin material against your pussy down, revealing only the necessities and leaving you just as exposed as he is.

He rubbed down your puffy slit back and forth as he expertly ripped open the golden foil packaging with his teeth and rolled the lubricated condom down his veiny cock. Your walls clenched tightly in excitement at the sight alone.

When he finally breached your hole, there was no such thing as masturbation in his mind anymore after getting the opportunity to have you like this. He almost came inside the rubber like he was feeling the tight warmth of a pussy for the first time, but that’s exactly what your spongey walls were to him.

He’s never felt anything so snug and perfect in his life, and the whimper you two vocalized together as your bodies joined made him believe that the feeling was shared.

The way your eyebrows knitted with pleasure and pouty lips parted as he buried himself to the hilt in one swift motion was so euphoric to witness. It was almost like he could feel your bliss mingling with his own.

How could he possibly imagine giving up something so special?

“S—so full…mmph…” Your head dropped between your shoulders for a moment from the overwhelming feeling, and the erotic pitch in your tone made his cock twitch insistently inside of you.

“You suck me in so good,” he cooed with a exasperated grin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his eyes worshipped your beautiful stretch marks. Your back arched as far as you could go to let him reach the most personal parts of you. Shamelessly, you met him thrust for thrust to answer his question.

“Keep fucking yourself on me…just like that…”

His gaze met yours briefly in the large mirror before it went back to watch how your slick made the condom glisten when it caught in the light. Even with it on, it was like he could feel every glide against your insides as if he were bare.

“You’re so fuuucking soaked.” The deep grunts masked over his words made your stomach flip. Or maybe he was just that deep in your guts. Perhaps it was both.

His powerful hips rutted into your plush flesh to make the echos of smacking skin an entrancing sound he wished he had access to whenever he wanted.

Caleb couldn’t help but have his hands all over you—gripping your ass, smacking it to make it jiggle more than it already was, and gripping your hips to bring you close when you felt far. Addicted was too insufficient of a word to express how far gone he was.

“You’re my special delivery girl, aren’t you?” His hold grew firmer and you were thankful for it because without that pinch as a reminder, you would’ve already been in the clouds and completely taken.

“I am….I am…” you chant, the mouthwatering sting of his heavy balls against your clit making you nothing but a mess beneath him.

And you took on all of his onslaughts with delight, stars gleaming in your vision when you snaked your hand down to your sensitive bundle of nerves to make your orgasm come faster. If you didn’t, you were almost certain it would bring you to tears.

“C—Caleb, please don’t stop,” you mewled, your whines increasing as his pace did the same.

“Only you could get me to…” He fisted your shirt to make sure you remained pressed to him so that he could keep that intoxicating momentum.

You found yourself wondering if you hit the sex partner jackpot with the way he was slamming into your heat and begging you for more when he already had it all. Slender digits hastily circled your clit, the combination of that and the man buried within you making it hard to differentiate where you began and he ended.

“You’re gonna make me c—come…I’m about to…oh fffuckk,” you cried, your muscles choking him and making his own impending climax inevitable as your sharp breaths and jolting body became his motivation. You nearly became slack against the heated surface, your already drenched cunt turning into a waterfall from his unrelenting thrusts. Your mewls shuddered as they escaped your throat and were full of desire the more he used you to chase his own high.

Your unyielding hold around his dick only allowed Caleb a few more strokes before his actions stuttered behind you, his consistency faltering as a familiar pressure built inside of him. His heart pounded and ecstasy coursed through his system before heavy streams of cum pulsed from the head of his cock, flooding the thin latex that separated him from filling you to the brim until all you could do was thank him for it.

He was speechless, watching how your thick thighs shook and your fat pussy trembled around his throbbing length.

“I don’t usually do this,” he pushed out a winded titter. “Just fucking anyone that lets me, I mean. I have self control—I don’t want you to think that I don’t. But there must be something about you…”

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest as his thumb caressed your exposed skin while he tried his best to find the right words.

“Neither do I,” you admit. “But…I really enjoyed it. Maybe I need to be delivering to you more often.”

He snorted unexpectedly, nodding and licking his lips. “I can agree.”

You tensed and he hissed when he slipped out of your delicate body after giving you a warning. He tied the condom once he pulled it off before disposing of it, and you kept your eyes on him—part of it was simply out of curiosity about who you just slept with and the other in silent admiration.

Caleb was aloof to your staring while he cleaned off his cock and helped slide your pants back up from behind as you remained bent over until he brought them high enough that you needed to stand.

God, was he pretty. From his sharp jaw, angled nose, and soft hair—he was a perfect embodiment of anyone’s dream.

“What?” he asked shyly. You damn near fell out when you watched him blush like he wasn’t a different person just seconds ago.

“Nothing.” His arms come around to zip you up and button your jeans. “Just…I think I like looking at you.”

“You think?”

“I have to get to know you before I’m sure.”

“That’s fair.” His hands rested on you, pressing more kisses down the side of your throat. “You could stay. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know.”

“Of course you’d offer that,” you tease. “But I have to bring the money back to the store. I’m probably raising alarms already with how long I’ve been gone.”

“I can call Mr. Russo.” His hair tickles your cheeks the further he goes. “Tell him I’ll pay him double—no, triple—to let it slide. Would you stay then?”

“We’ve always been taught to be wary of strangers, Caleb.”

“I was just inside your pretty pussy, baby. I know what you feel like when you come, how you bite your lip when she…” his large hand goes between your thighs and cups you through your jeans. “feels good. Now I even know that penetration alone isn’t enough to get you off. And I’d like to learn more. Trust me, we’re a little bit past that stranger phase, don’t you think?”

Now you’re the one with a heated face. “Maybe.”

“I won’t try to convince you. It’s your call, but I…wouldn’t mind getting to know my helper on a deeper level.”

You audibly laugh, making him smile. He seems to like all the sounds you make.

“I’ll even let you take a picture of my ID so you can send it to anyone you want to for your safety and peace of mind. If you do wanna stay, you tell me whatever I need to do to make you comfortable.”

You turn around to face him. Placing your thumb over his lips, you press yours to the digit and smirk as he frowns over the barrier you’ve placed. “Soon.”

He reluctantly accepts defeat, the pit in his stomach already forming at the thought of you leaving.

“Soon,” he parrots, only his cadence makes it sound more like a promise.

Once he actually gives you the cash and the generous tip like he promised, Caleb sulks all the way to your comical car with a cartoon pizza mascot on top, shutting the door after you get behind the wheel and pressing a tender smooch to your forehead when you roll the window down to say goodbye one more time.

“No goodbyes,” he says firmly. “See you later.”

You grin so hard that it makes the apples of your cheeks pop. “I’ll see you later, Caleb.”

The needy man watches you pull out of your parking spot and fixates on your taillights until they disappear into the night and you’re completely out of sight.

Thankfully though, with your phone number saved and despite an undoubtedly cold pizza upstairs that he needs to reheat, Caleb now has a newfound specialty he plans to ensure becomes a permanent addition to his palate.

🍎 Tags: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @moonchildjae00 @caien @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @meadowinthesky @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine @carcelswaifu @blushofeve @whattnanii @ashirelle @sylvieisoffline @saturnquartz @dewmarionette @horanghaeegr @iconoclastoc @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @ajyoursgirl

♾️ Tags: @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple @sensual-study @sweetcalebb @asiaticapple @raemanova @awquaz @callads7 @floatinginaer @crimsonsylus @aquarianbeat

Creds to @/saradika for the pizza & star dividers!

[rawjutsu]

chapter five.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

you wake up sticky.

your furred ears twitch, the soft insides a little too warm. your skin feels too hot, too tight, like you’ve been sweating out something that doesn’t want to leave you. and for a second, you think maybe it was a dream—that your heat hit, but you made it through alone.

but then you move.

and everything aches.

between your legs. in your lower back. your neck, your thighs, the delicate skin beneath your breasts. even your tailbone, where your soft little puff tail flicks involuntarily.

you shift under the blankets and feel the soreness bloom, spreading through you like bruises in the shape of him. satoru. his mouth, his hands, his cock. the way he held you open with a possessive growl low in his throat. the way he looked at you when you begged him not to stop, pupils blown wide and slitted like a predator locked on his prey.

your chest tightens.

the sheets still smell like him—musky and warm and faintly like ozone, that unique wild-laced scent that always seemed to curl behind your sinuses and short-circuit your thoughts.

you drag yourself out of bed, muscles protesting with every step, legs trembling faintly with the leftover echo of instinct. the pads of your feet are sore—probably from all the heat-induced pacing you don’t remember doing. you make your way to the bathroom. there’s a toothbrush already on the counter—his. it’s electric and stupidly expensive-looking. blue, of course. probably one of three he owns, because he’s satoru and he lives like a hot idiot dragon who collects luxury essentials and then loses them immediately.

you stare at it for a beat longer than you should, your ears drooping slightly, then wordlessly reach for yours.

you’re mid-rinse when you hear footsteps.

you freeze, mouth full of mint foam. your ears perk straight up.

then his voice, rough with sleep, from just outside the doorway: “morning.”

you glance at him in the mirror.

he’s shirtless. of course he’s shirtless. hair sticking up like he lost a fight with the pillow. eyes bleary, but still that impossible glacier blue. his spotted tail flicks once behind him, betraying the calm facade. his sweatpants hang low on his hips—too low—and for one stupid second, all you can think about is what it felt like to grind against him yesterday. how he grabbed your waist. how he swore under his breath when you clenched around his fingers.

you spit. rinse. force your face to stay neutral.

but he’s already looking at you.

not just at you—at what you’re wearing. one of his shirts. big and soft and worn at the collar, slipping off your shoulder with every tiny movement. the hem just barely covers the curve of your thighs, your little tail poking out beneath it.

you hadn’t even realized you grabbed it.

he raises a brow, eyes trailing over you slowly, but doesn’t say anything. just reaches for his toothbrush and starts brushing, like this is normal. like the air between you isn’t charged with leftover pheromones and tension, thick enough to choke on.

you leave before you can do something stupid.

you’d think fucking your roommate at your most vulnerable—at the peak of your heat—would make things a little awkward between you.

but it wasn’t.

at first, anyway.

it was just… mental warfare.

not that you two made some silent pact to never talk about it again or anything. you did talk about it. sorta.

“so—um—thanks, you know. for… that.” you blushed furiously, handing him his freshly washed bedsheets (and a couple shirts you stole). okay, maybe you kept one. 

“right…” satoru trailed off, looking like he was debating between jumping out a window or saying something stupid.

he chose the latter.

“so, does this mean you’re like… in love with me or something?”

you scowled and smacked at him while he cackled, baring sharp little canines, dancing out of reach.

“no! i just—” you shrugged lamely, at a total loss. “i don’t know.”

“uh huh, suuure.” satoru made a face like he didn’t believe you for a second, then lifted the folded bedsheets as evidence against you.

you huffed. “oh yeah? what about you, huh? you were awfully quick to offer your services,” you said, aggressively air-quoting “help.”

satoru gasped like you’d just insulted his ancestors. “i was just trying to help my poor little roommate! but sure, let’s villainize the guy who volunteered his dick out of the kindness of his heart.”

“says the guy who literally said if he fucked me, he wouldn’t be able to stop.”

“says the one who begged for my cock or else she’d die,” he shot back, scoffing.

“yeah, well, here i am. alive. guess i didn’t need your magical dick after all,” you said, ears twitching in frustration.

he paused. then grinned. “you think my dick’s magical?”

you groaned, spun on your heel, and stormed off to your room. the door slammed. his laughter echoed down the hall—a rumbling sound low in his chest that made your nose twitch in spite of yourself.

so, yeah. you two talked about it. sorta.

then life just… went on.

you went back to work, finally relaxed, finally not on the verge of spontaneously combusting. your scent glands finally calmed, your mood stopped swinging like a pendulum, and you stopped gnawing at everything that wasn’t nailed down. satoru moved back into his own apartment—said living with nanami was like staying with a grumpy grandma who judged his cereal choices.

one morning, you bumped into the blonde himself in the hallway. he looked you over, head to toe, as if looking for any signs of mauling. then just said, “good.” and walked off.

so things were… normal.

kinda.

except, they weren’t really.

there’d been a few lowkey moments between the two of you lately. stuff that hadn’t really happened before. barely-there things—so small they could’ve meant nothing to anyone else.

but you noticed.

like when satoru’s hand brushed your lower back as he reached past you. not intentional. not not intentional, either. you were just making coffee, standing a little too close, and he leaned in to grab something—his hand lingering just a second too long, his tail curling slightly in interest before he caught himself.

or when your landlord stopped by to lecture you about the electric bill again.

you were both trying not to laugh. and across the room, your eyes met—just for a second. you grinned. he grinned back.

it felt like… something.

or when he came home late from work and tossed you that weird instant ramen you always get. no comment, no explanation—just a lazy underhand throw before he headed to bed. you hadn’t even realized he remembered.

they probably didn’t mean anything.

but you lingered on them anyway.

and in the quiet moments—the ones where your brain had nothing better to do—you kept thinking about him.

about satoru’s desperate eyes when he offered to help. the way you flinched when his rough tongue flicked your clit, sharper and stronger than any human tongue. how he growled into your cunt like he was starved, pinning your hips with brutal strength only a snow leopard hybrid could manage.

the way his veiny hand stroked his cock, fist flying, his cum spilling across your stomach in thick, hot ropes.

he was huge. thick. long. exactly the kind of thing that shouldn’t be stuck in your head mid-shift, but there you were—ringing up a customer while your ears twitched like radar dishes, thighs clenched.

the worst part? you weren’t the only one acting weird.

sure, satoru was still loud and annoying and said unhinged shit daily. but there were moments.

moments where he looked at you too long after a joke. where his smile faltered, jaw tight, whiskers twitching. moments when you’d step out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel and his eyes would drag across you before he forced himself to look away, tail lashing behind him.

you knew he thought about it. there was no way he didn’t.

but what now? just ignore it until the next time your heat hit? or—god forbid—until his rut?

you choked a little on your water at the thought.

because if that was him holding back, you didn’t want to imagine what he’d be like when he completely lost control.

(no matter how badly your stupid brain wanted to.)

you were frustrated. but mostly with yourself.

why were you thinking about this so much?

why did remembering the way he whispered “please” in your ear make your heart race more than the orgasm itself?

…that was the part you didn’t want to unpack.

you yawned as you unlocked the front door to your shared apartment, tossing your keys in the bowl and dropping your bag with a heavy thud. your shift had been long, your feet were killing you, and you were this close to collapsing on the couch when—

“hey,” satoru called from the kitchen. “i’m hungry.”

you blinked, confused. “okay?”

he appeared around the corner, keys in hand. “wanna hit up the convenience store on the corner?”

you groaned, every inch of your body aching at the thought of going back out. “satoru, i just got home and it’s almost midnight. can’t you go yourself?”

but he just waved you off, grabbed your arm, and tugged you out the door before you could argue.

the streets were quiet. your footsteps tapped against the cracked pavement while the neon sign of the shop ahead buzzed like a dying cicada.

satoru walked close—closer than usual. your hands kept brushing. your nose twitched, ears flicking in his direction, catching the faint scent of unease on him.

“so like… i’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

your ears perked. “ask what?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes locked on the flickering sign. “about the whole… heat thing. you doing okay?”

you nodded a little too quickly. but he didn’t drop it—just kept staring, unreadable.

“i just—i dunno,” he muttered. “i feel like maybe we should talk about it. not in, like, a fighting way. i just... i don’t want you thinking i took advantage of you.”

your heart stuttered. you bit your lip, caught off guard by how genuinely serious he sounded.

“i guess i made it seem that way, huh?” you mumbled. you chewed on the inside of your cheek before adding, “you didn’t take advantage, satoru. you really did help me. i don’t even know what the hell was going on with my body, but i wasn’t lying when i said it freaked out when you weren’t around.”

you looked down at the concrete, too flustered to meet his eyes.

“but when you… helped... it felt like i wasn’t on fire anymore. like, for the first time, i could breathe.”

when you finally looked up, he was smiling softly. no teasing. just something raw and sweet. his tail curled slightly around his leg.

“i meant what i said too,” he murmured. “that it was hell being away from you.”

you stopped walking, startled, and satoru did too. you stared at each other under the glow of the flickering convenience store lights.

“satoru…” you started.

but before the words could leave your mouth, a hand landed on your shoulder. and it wasn’t his.

“oh hey, if it isn’t my favorite little bunny waitress.”

you jumped, your ears flattening instinctively, turning quickly. satoru went rigid beside you—shoulders tight.

the guy was a regular at the sushi place—something like fuchi or oro or tochi? you couldn’t remember. big, broad-shouldered grizzly hybrid with choppy black hair and a scar that ran down his lip. scary as hell at first, but you’d gotten used to his… vibe after serving him so many times.

“oh, hi,” you said, giving him a polite bow.

“nice seeing you outta that uniform,” he said, eyes dragging over you like he owned the sidewalk. “though i gotta say, that little skirt you wear’s the highlight of my night.”

you laughed lighly. “pretty sure the highlight of your night is our happy hour specials.”

he snorted. “can’t argue there. see you around.”

he walked off, and just like that, he was gone.

you barely thought about him again as you turned to ask satoru what snack he wanted—

only to find him staring at you. hard. blank-faced. his tail was twitching, rapid and sharp.

the back of your neck prickled. you tried to lighten the mood. “you good?”

“peachy,” he said, tight smile on his face. “let’s get our stuff and go.”

he walked into the store without waiting for a response.

back at home, the walk having been tense and silent, you were putting your melon soda into the fridge when you turned and—

satoru was right there, leaning against the counter, tail swishing low and agitated behind him. his ears were upright, twitching—like he was trying to look casual but couldn’t quite.

“so,” he said, eyes a little too sharp, “who was that?”

you blinked. “huh? oh, he’s just some regular at the restaurant. pretty harmless.”

“mmm. the kind of ‘harmless’ who likes seeing you in tiny skirts and nothing else?”

you stared at him. “what?”

“you heard me.” he was smirking—but his fangs were showing, and there wasn’t a single ounce of humor in his voice.

“what are you talking about?” you snapped. your ears twitched defensively, flattening a little. “i don’t even know his full name!”

“nothing,” he shrugged, tail flicking hard. “just think it’s funny how you’re suddenly so friendly with other guys after, i dunno, crying for my dick a few days ago.”

your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”

“you heard me.”

you stared at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. you were trying to scent the air for clarity, for calm, but it was full of him—sharp snow and clean cotton and something hot, something feral, underneath it all.

“who the hell do you think you are?”

his eyes darkened, pupils dilating fast. “i think i’m the fucking guy whose face you came all over—and now i get to watch you flirt with someone else right in front of me.”

your ears flattened fully against your scalp. “you’re such an idiot. i can’t believe i actually thought for a second that maybe���” you stopped, biting your tongue before the truth could spill.

satoru’s voice dropped lower, like a growl pressed into syllables. “that maybe what?”

you blinked away tears and shoved past him, brushing against his chest. you didn’t miss how he flinched—like your scent was setting him off.

you cried silently in the shower. the hot water wrinkled your fingertips while your chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid. you felt stupid. stupid for thinking maybe—maybe this was more than just instinct and pheromones. that maybe he felt it too.

you missed when life was simpler. when your biggest worry was whether the harvest would last the winter. when your only daily stress was the exact angle of the sun on the carrot beds. when there wasn’t a snow-haired man with a stupidly fluffy tail and predator instincts pacing your thoughts like a caged animal.

you debated going home. but that wasn’t an option. not really.

maybe it was time to move out.

you sighed, turned off the water, and stepped out, towel wrapped tight around your body—and nearly walked straight into satoru.

he was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, tail low and still. his ears flicked forward when he saw your face.

“move,” you croaked, voice hoarse. your ears were drooping, betraying everything you didn’t say.

“no,” he said gently.

you sighed, exhausted. “satoru, please just—”

he reached out and cupped your face in both hands. his palms were warm—almost too warm.

your eyes fluttered up to meet his.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured. “for being an ass.”

you tried to pull away. “sorry doesn’t fix this.”

his grip tightened just a little. “please.”

you froze. that word. the way he said it. the need in it.

“i don’t know why i said that shit—well, i do, but it’ll sound dumb if i try to explain.”

“try anyway.”

he was quiet for a moment. his ears drooped, tail curling close to his calf.

“something comes over me when i’m around you. like—like my whole body’s tuned into yours and nothing else. and when you’re gone, it’s like my senses won’t shut up. it hurts.”

his laugh was low and self-deprecating.

“that day, when i said being away from you was hell, i wasn’t exaggerating. when you let me help you through your heat, it took everything in me not to—fuck, not to lose it. because my instincts? they’re not soft. they’re not gentle. they’re made for biting and pinning and claiming.”

you stared at him, stunned.

“i’ve never felt like this before,” he admitted. “and i know our relationship is messy as hell, but when you come home smelling like someone else, even just a little—it makes me feel like i’m gonna snap.”

and he didn’t need to finish.

because you were already kissing him.

soft at first. confessional. honest.

you pulled back just a little. “you’re stupid.”

“i know,” he whispered, kissing you again.

it got hotter fast—his hands gripping your towel-wrapped waist, pulling you flush against him. you whimpered when his canines tugged at your bottom lip. he growled, chest rumbling deep in his throat, fingers digging into your plush hips like he could mold them into memory.

then—he jerked back abruptly, panting. his tail lashed behind him like a whip.

you flinched, startled. “what—?”

his pupils were blown wide, his breath ragged. “maybe we shouldn’t do that. not right now.”

“oh.” you wrapped your arms around yourself, your ears drooping.

“it’s not you,” he rushed. “it’s just—shit, i think your heat pushed my rut forward. and this... definitely isn’t helping.”

“oh.”

you chewed your lip. your stomach fluttered with nerves. “i could help you.”

his gaze snapped to yours, pupils near-black. “no. absolutely not.”

his voice was low. commanding. there was a dangerous edge to it that made your knees weak.

“bunny,” he said, deadly serious, “i’d hurt you. i don’t think i’d be able to control myself during a rut—i’d tear you to shreds.”

a shudder slid down your spine at the threat veiled in warning. your ears pinned flat. the heat pooling between your thighs deepened. you should be scared—maybe you were—but not enough.

satoru’s nostrils flared. he caught your scent in an instant. and he leapt back like he’d been electrocuted.

“okay. no. seriously, don’t do that.”

your eyes went wide. “s-sorry.”

your heart was racing. you were trembling slightly. but… not entirely from fear.

“just, um—could we kiss some more?” you asked quietly, voice small, eyes dropping to the floor. you felt so stupid asking. so bunny-coded it hurt.

but satoru was on you before you could blink. he kissed you hard, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of force that made your knees buckle. his hands were everywhere—pushing your towel up, gripping your waist, your stomach, your thighs. you whimpered into his mouth and he groaned, the sound gravelly and raw.

he fisted your hair, tilting your head back. his nose buried into your throat and he licked.

you gasped. your whole body jolted.

he hissed—your scent was too much. a drug. a trigger.

then—he bit.

not hard. not enough to draw blood. but enough to sting. enough to make your body go rigid in shock.

your eyes went wide. every part of your prey instincts screamed: freeze. run. hide.

satoru jerked back instantly. his chest was heaving. his eyes were dark and wild.

“oh, fuck.” his voice was raw, full of panic. “i—i think i need to get a motel. for the next couple days.”

you nodded numbly, brushing your fingers against the graze on your neck. it wasn’t even bleeding. but it felt like a brand.

“don’t come out of your room tonight,” he said sharply. “better yet—lock the door.”

he laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “i’m not sure i trust myself.”

“i trust you, satoru,” you whispered. your voice wavered—but you meant it.

his eyes softened, just a fraction. his jaw unclenched. he leaned in again, slowly this time, like he was afraid to scare you.

he kissed you—gentle. chaste.

you could still feel him trembling.

“goodnight, little bunny.”

[freakmcnastyy]

Weak Hero Boys x P!Reader Headcanons

Weak Hero Class boys x pregnant!reader (fluff)

Includes: Geum Seongjae,Na Baekjin, Ahn Suho, Yeon Si-eun, Kang Woo-young, Oh Beom-seok, Go Hyuntak, Park Humin (Baku)

Note: This was an anon request! AND GOD, I swear writing — let alone reading — stuff like this makes me feel all kinds of weird. And I wrote each character at a different time of day so they wouldn’t all feel the same. Hope I pulled it off.

⸻

Geum Seongjae

1. The Moment He Finds Out:

Silence. He just stares. Then his lip twitches.

The second you tell him you’re pregnant, Seongjae goes quiet for a few seconds. He looks unbothered on the outside, but you know a thousand things are racing through his head. In that moment, his whole “world” shifts.

“I knew no one else could ever give me something like this.”

He says it softly, but something breaks in his eyes — like the idea of ever letting you go has become completely impossible.

2. Possessiveness:

Obsession. Protection. Paranoia.

He’s not just protecting you anymore, but everything you’re carrying inside you. Even the tiniest bit of stress is enough reason for him to lock you in the house. If someone bumps into you by accident? Seongjae might beat them up in the middle of the street without a second thought.

“I better not see you cry again. I’m dead serious.”

Even the dark circles under your eyes feel like a personal insult to him.

3. Physical Obsession:

He’s obsessed with your belly. Every time he talks to you, his hand goes there like a reflex. At night, he lays his head against it and whispers things to the baby. He starts acting like a “family” way before the baby’s even born — but not in a normal way.

“There’s a piece of me inside you. That means you don’t get to leave. Ever.”

4. Jealousy & Going Insane:

Another guy checking you out while you’re pregnant? Your best friend trying to take you out of the house? It’s all a problem. At some point, he might even try to hide the fact that you’re pregnant altogether.

“Don’t wear that. There’s no reason to show your stomach like that. People don’t need to see. That’s mine.”

5. Random Kindness Spikes:

He’ll suddenly start talking about baby room ideas, sweet little dreams, out of nowhere. In those moments he seems normal, like a regular excited dad — but there’s always a breakdown bubbling underneath.

“If it’s a girl, you can name her. But if it’s a boy… I’ll decide.”

6. Before & After the Birth:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more controlling he becomes. He chooses the hospital, who’s allowed in the room, even the nurse that’s going to be with you.

“If anything goes wrong… someone’s paying for it. Got it?”

And after the birth? He isolates you, the baby, and himself like it’s a three-person world. He wants to build everything from zero — just you three.

“It’s only us now. Everyone else out there is dangerous. What else do I need to do to make you understand that?”

⸻

Na Baekjin

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. He masks his emotions, but his pupils shake. After you tell him, he holds your gaze — and stays exactly the same. Cold. Serious. Neither happy nor mad. Then he lowers his head a little.

“Is it mine?”

He trusts you. He does. But he still asks — not because he doubts you, but because he wants to believe so bad it physically hurts. And maybe… because he hates himself a little too much.

2. He Doesn’t Say “I Can’t Be a Dad,” but…

Responsibility? That’s not something he’s ever believed he deserved. He tells himself, “Someone like me can’t raise a child.” But he still parks outside your place every night, just watching. Making sure nothing happens.

“Don’t be alone. I’m behind you like a shadow — just act like I’m not there.”

3. His Way of Protecting You:

Silent. Brutal. Shadowed. Baekjin never publicly claims you. But anyone who threatens you? They start disappearing one by one. He’s given a silent order across the whole Union.

“If anyone even thinks about getting close to her — they better have their grave ready.”

4. How He Sees the Pregnancy:

It’s guilt mixed with obsession. When he sees your belly, his eyes freeze for a second. Because there’s a life inside you — his life — and he’s still struggling to believe something so pure could come from someone like him.

“If I were someone cleaner… maybe we could’ve really had this together.”

Still, his hands always go to your stomach. Every time he touches you, it’s careful. Gentle. Like he thinks you might break.

5. He Cuts You Off From the World:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more he isolates you. Friends? Family? Opinions? None of it matters to him.

“I don’t care what anyone says. If something happens to you… I’ll burn the f*cking world down.”

6. “Family” Becomes Real for the First Time:

Baekjin never had warmth growing up. Never had a real home. But now? Now the idea of building a house — not a place, but a feeling — with you and the baby is something he clings to in the dark. One night, he says without thinking:

“If someone had hugged me growing up… maybe I could’ve loved as good as you do.”

7. After the Baby’s Born:

He’s a wall. Cold, distant. But always there. He won’t hold the baby and coo over it, no. But he stands by the crib at night while you sleep, silently watching the tiny hand curled around his finger.

“Would it be okay… if I picked the name?”

⸻

Ahn Suho

1. When He Finds Out:

Shocked. Eyes wide. “Wait, what? Are you serious?! We’re PREGNANT?!”

At first, it doesn’t compute. He asks you to repeat it like three times. Then his hands start shaking. He might even tear up.

“I’m… I’m gonna be a dad? For real?!”

His first reaction is pure joy — mixed with straight-up panic. He wants to pick you up and spin you around, but the moment you say “Stop, I’m nauseous!” he freezes and immediately puts you down.

2. Ridiculously Affectionate:

He flips into “mom mode” in two seconds. Tries cooking for you, watches YouTube videos on pregnancy massages, double-checks every corner of the house like “is this safe for her? for the baby?”

“No more junk food. Less salt. Sit down, feet up. This baby’s not stressing you out!”

3. Fighting His Own Demons:

Deep down, he thinks, “I didn’t have a good childhood… what if I mess this up too?”

But he never says it out loud. He just holds you at night and whispers to your belly:

“If I raise this baby with someone like you… maybe I won’t mess it up.”

4. Emotional Rollercoaster:

Your hormones? Yeah, his are worse. You cry, he cries. You snap, he sulks — but then brings you a fruit bowl with a pouty face. One time, you probably ended up ugly crying together while eating stuffed grape leaves.

5. Silent Jealousy:

If he sees you talking to another guy? His whole vibe shifts. He won’t say anything, but the pout, the slumped shoulders, the quiet little stares — they’re all there.

“Go out if you want, just… wear something warm. And text me. At every step. I just— I worry, okay?”

6. The Birth Itself:

Sweating. Shaking. Crying. Loving. If they let him in the room, he’s right there, holding your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. If they don’t — he’s on his knees outside the door, praying like his whole soul’s in it.

“You’re both okay, right? Please… that’s all I need.”

⸻

Yeon Si-eun

1. When He Finds Out:

His brain literally freezes for a second before it starts processing. When you say “I’m pregnant,” Si-eun just stares at you in silence. No yelling. No running. No hugs. His hands tremble a little.

“How long has it been? Are you okay? How many weeks?”

He hides his emotions — but every question screams, “I’m scared to death of losing you.”

2. Switches to Practical, Strategic Dad Mode:

Hospital? Booked. Doctor? Researched. Nutrition? Charted. Stress? Monitored.

“You’re not eating anything on this list. I’m serious.”

But also:

“But… if you’re craving something… I kinda snuck in a little chocolate. Please don’t be mad.”

3. He Suppresses Emotion, But Never Leaves You Alone:

He didn’t grow up with love, so he genuinely has no clue how to treat you or the baby. But one thing’s for sure: he’s not going anywhere.

He’s not the jealous type — but he is controlling. He won’t say “who did you hang out with?” but he’ll definitely check your phone later and mentally profile anyone who could hurt you.

“Don’t see anyone who might stress you out. Please. Not for me — for our child.”

⸻

Kang Woo-young

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. Eyes on the floor. Then suddenly, his breath catches. He doesn’t say a word at first — just stares blankly. But if you look closely, you’ll see he literally forgot how to breathe.

“…I’m gonna be a dad?”

His voice shakes, but he tries to play it off. His jaw clenches.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll figure this out. Just give me a little time.”

And then he leaves — not because he doesn’t care, but because he never planned to build a family. It was always just you and him. But later that night, he comes back. Finds you asleep, puffy-eyed from crying. Slips into bed behind you, holds you tight, buries his face in your neck.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone. No matter what… I’m here.”

2. Shows Love Through Actions, Not Words:

He can’t cook soup, but he’ll leave water by your bed every night. He can’t write you poetry, but he’ll tie your shoelaces without a word. And the first time your belly starts to show, his eyes well up.

“God, this is so weird. But so beautiful.”

3. Protection Style:

Quiet But Deadly.

Someone bumped into you? Woo-young doesn’t say a word. But a few days later, you’ll hear that guy got beat half to death in some underground ring.

He promises no more fights — “for the baby.” But of course he still does it.

4. Obsessed With Your Belly — But Too Shy To Show It:

His eyes keep drifting to your stomach when he talks to you. But he’s too shy to touch it. One night, you place his hand there — and he literally forgets how to breathe. His fingers tremble.

“Did you really love me this much?”

That night, for the first time, he rests his head on your belly and whispers for hours:

“Don’t be like your mom. She’s too soft. This world’s harsh.”

5. Emotional Breakdowns: Silent Crying:

As your pregnancy progresses, every time he feels like he’s not doing enough, tears fall. But he hides in the bathroom so you won’t see.

“I have to be strong. For both of you.”

6. Day of the Birth:

Looks like he just stepped out of a street fight. Doesn’t yell at the doctors, but the fire in his eyes says enough.

7. Fatherhood:

He can’t stop the baby from crying. Can’t change a diaper right. But every single night, he stays up beside the crib. He lets you cry in his lap without saying a word.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here. Always.”

⸻

Oh Beom-seok

1. When He Finds Out:

Stares blankly. He thinks you’re joking at first.

“Wait… are you serious? From me? Like, really…?”

Then his voice breaks. His eyes fill up, but he tries not to cry. Honestly? His world crashes down. Because his dad… well, you know. And it’s not about what’ll happen to him — it’s the fear of something happening to you or the baby.

“I’m gonna… be a dad?”

His voice cracks saying it. Because his father made sure the word “dad” left a scar on his soul.

2. Wants To Run — But Can’t:

In his head: “I’m someone who doesn’t know love, who grew up on violence, who shuts everyone out. What do I have to do with someone like you?”

But leaving you would be death to him. So instead, he goes quiet. Closes in on himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you… so I might keep my distance for a while. But I won’t leave. I promise.”

3. Blames Himself Deeply:

Lays in bed staring at the ceiling every night.

“What if I turn out like him? What if I am him?”

4. Hyper Emotional, Super Fragile:

Every time you’re tired, he blames himself. Don’t feel like eating? He tears up, thinking he messed something up.

“I can’t stand seeing you upset. I’ve already been so awful… don’t turn into me.”

To him, your pregnant body feels sacred. Sometimes he can’t even touch you.

“You’re carrying something inside you now. I don’t even wanna accidentally hurt you. I’m scared.”

6. The Birth:

He breaks. Shaking. Sitting in some hospital hallway, hands covering his face, sobbing like the world’s ending.

“Please… God, please don’t take her from me.”

7. Fatherhood:

Slow, but deeply tender. Doesn’t know how to hold a baby. But watches over yours every second of the night. Talks to the baby while you sleep.

And one day, watching the two of you together — he smiles. For the first time. A real, slow, genuine smile.

“I thought I had no place in this world. But… you gave me a room in it.”

⸻

Go Hyun-tak

1. When He Finds Out:

This man goes feral. In a good way. Just stands there with this shocked, joy-filled smile, completely speechless. Then suddenly:

“Wait WHAT? OUR baby? PROJECT LEBRON JAMES BEGINS!”

2. Protective Soft Side Comes Out:

He shows up for every single doctor’s appointment. Tries to learn everything he can. At home, he leaves little surprises — hot soup, a fruit plate, a stack of pillows. But he does it shyly, almost embarrassed.

“You feeling okay matters more to me than anything.”

3. His Excitement Is Contagious:

Shopping for the baby? He treats it like a mission. Toys, clothes, the perfect paint color for the nursery — he’s got opinions.

“Our baby’s gonna sleep in the nicest room on the block, alright?”

4. Tiny Panic Attacks — But He Bounces Back:

He sometimes spirals like “what if we’re not ready?” But then breathes in, looks at you, and says:

“We’re in this together. No matter what. We’ve got this.”

5. Jealousy Is Soft & Silly:

Sees you chatting with another guy? Pouts a little. Then immediately smiles again.

“Sorry… I just. You’re kinda my whole world.”

6. Birth Time = Full Support Mode:

He’s right beside you, holding your hand, hyping you up with every push.

“You’re strong. I’m right here.”

When the baby cries for the first time, he’s standing right there, trying to feed it with trembling hands.

“Look at our tiny Lebron James.”

7. Dives Into Dad Life Fast:

He’s hungry to learn. Wakes up for every night feeding, writes down every little milestone.

“We’re building something new. You, me, and our baby. It’s gonna be amazing.”

⸻

Park Humin (Baku)

1. When He Finds Out:

He screams. For real. Like he just scored the game-winning goal in the final second. Pure, goofy, chaotic happiness.

2. A Little Insecure:

His relationship with his dad? Yeah. Complicated as hell. He’s terrified of telling him, and even more scared he might turn into him. Just like Beom-seok, he fears becoming a bad father.

3. Quiet, Emotional Protection:

With you? He’s tough. Out in public? He smiles and holds your hand like you’re fragile glass.

“No one’s touching you. Baku’s right here.”

But when he’s alone, his chest aches with the memories of his dad.

4. Tiny Surprises & Care:

You’re tired? He sets up cute little things around the house. Brings your favorite dessert. Buys fresh chicken from your favorite spot.

“I know this isn’t easy… but we’ve got this. Together.”

5. Jealousy & Trust:

Sees you talking to other guys? His eyes tear up — but he never says a word. Keeps it buried.

“Just… understand me, okay? I just wanna protect you.”

6. During Birth:

Nervous as hell but stands strong. His palms sweat like crazy, but he holds your hand the whole time.

“You’re gonna be okay. You and the baby — you’re both okay.”

7. Fatherhood:

Soft. Steady. Scared. But loving. He’s clumsy at first, scared to touch the baby. But he never leaves your side. Stands by the crib every night.

“I’m not just here for you anymore. I’m here for them too.”

[mona-risms]

imagine bodyguard reader stepping out of the kitchen and being jumpscared by Rumi with her long ass rapunzel type hair down looking like that girl from the ring and after reader stops having a panic attack Rumi just ask if she can braid her hair cause this mf has the longest hair I’ve ever seen

I just had to pick this up when I saw it rq bc 😭 this reminded me of when I still had really long hair and it had me scaring people in the exact same situation so many times

Longass hair gets on your face so many fucking times that it gets so goddamn annoying idk how Rumi does it 😭 but it probably makes things worse when you walk out the kitchen at early morning and she turns around to look at you. Before you even scream or smth she ZOOMS right to you in speed that SHOULD be impossible for a normal K-Pop idol (say thanks to Hunter training) and it just scares you even more bc WHAT THE FUCK before she shushes you desperately and making you realise that "OH. OH IT'S YOU. YOU'RE NOT GONNA EAT ME" "WHAT" bc as trained as you are, you were NOT trained to face the supernatural

She'd probably ask if you could brain her hair as a way to calm you down, I think. Bc the activity itself is already grounding, for both whoever's braiding AND whoever's getting her hair braided. And she kinda gets you to talk to her about if there's anything you've been tasked to do for the day in advance and stuff for your duties, probably shit about HUNTR/X's itinerary, not just to help you with coming down from feeling spioked but also bc she just wants to hear your voice at this time of day :3c and maybe she'll even lean back against you if she's feeling brave that early morning 🥰

I'm writing this like I have any clue how to braid people's hair lmfao I never got taught but shhhh

[idkyetxoxo]

Nine | Fading Away | Shadow and Flame

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 2.1k

Warnings - Angst, premature labour, childbirth, pain and injury

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It had been a week since Eris's visit, since I had last seen the haunted look in my brother's eyes, the bruises he tried to hide, the weight he bore alone while I found sanctuary in the safety of Velaris.

The guilt hadn't faded. If anything, it had settled deep in my bones.

So I'd done what I could to ground myself, to feel normal in this impossible time. I'd gone for a walk in the garden, one hand cradling my bump, the other trailing lazily through golden blooms. 

The sun had warmed my face, the breeze carried the sweet scent of roses and wildflowers, and for a brief moment, I let myself believe we were safe. That everything would be fine.

I had just stepped through the threshold of the townhouse, barefoot and humming softly, a bouquet of wildflowers tucked against my chest—when the air shifted.

Tension rolled through the room like a wave crashing against a cliff.

Voices, low, urgent, edged with panic. I heard Rhysand first, clipped and cold. Azriel's voice followed, rough and guttural. Cassian, blunt and frustrated.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice hesitant as I stepped into the room.

Three male heads snapped toward me.

Azriel moved before anyone else could speak, his shadows curling tighter around him like a second skin.

But it was Rhysand who answered. His eyes met mine, violet gleaming with something like dread. He opened his mouth and changed everything.

"Beron knows about the baby."

The wildflowers slipped from my fingers. They hit the floor with a muted thud, petals scattering like forgotten hopes.

"What?" I whispered, my breath catching, lungs suddenly too small to contain the sheer weight of those words. "He... how?"

Cassian swore under his breath. Azriel growled low and lethal, his whole body coiling like a blade about to strike.

But no one had the chance to answer.

Because pain, sharp, vicious, blinding, lanced through me like fire.

One second, I was standing. The next, I was hunched over, a scream clawing up my throat as my hands flew to my stomach. The ache stole the very air from my lungs.

"Oh—" I gasped, my knees buckling. My entire body seized as though my own muscles had turned against me.

Azriel was at my side in an instant. "What's happening? What's wrong?"

"It's happening—" I choked out, blinking through the sudden blur of tears. "Az—Azriel, it's happening."

His face went pale. "No. No, no, no, it's too early." His voice cracked, barely controlled panic in every syllable. "You're not due for another two months—"

"I know," I cried, clutching his hand so tightly I might've broken bone. "Oh—I know—"

Another wave of pain rolled through me, this one deeper, more primal. I screamed, falling forward into Azriel's arms. My whole body trembled as I sagged against him.

"Cassian," Azriel barked, "*Get Madja—now!"

Cassian was already moving, disappearing in a blur of red siphons and wings, a sonic boom of panic left in his wake.

Rhysand stepped closer, but the fear etched across his usually composed face told me everything. This wasn't just a complication. This wasn't normal.

"Az—Azriel," I sobbed, trying to breathe through another contraction, "What if something's wrong? What if something's wrong with the baby?"

His shadows wrapped around us both now, trying to cocoon us from the world.

"Nothing's wrong," he said, voice hoarse and shaking. "We're going to get through this. I swear to you—I swear it."

But he looked just as terrified as I felt.

He lifted me effortlessly, cradling me against his chest as if I weighed nothing, even though I could feel how my body had gone limp between contractions. 

"I've got you. I've got you," he kept repeating, over and over.

Blood roared in my ears. My vision swam. But the pain was real, rhythmic, alive and it wasn't stopping.

"It's too soon—" I whimpered again, burying my face into his shoulder.

"No," Azriel said, his voice a vow now, hardening with each step toward the stairs. "You've made it this far. You're strong. And so is our baby. You're going to hold on. Just a little longer."

"Beron—" I whispered, tears slipping down my cheeks.

"Forget Beron," he growled. "You're mine. He doesn't get to touch you ever again. And he sure as hell doesn't get to touch our child."

I didn't know where the pain ended and the fear began. The contractions were coming faster now, merciless and close.

And still, Azriel held me.

Rhysand flew ahead, likely sending a mental scream through the city. Cassian would be back with Madja any second. I prayed he would.

But deep in my heart, even through the haze of pain and panic and pressure, I felt the shift. Something raw and unstoppable had begun. And there was no going back now.

The pain didn't stop. It didn't ebb or shift or dull. It tore through me, ripping, searing, merciless. 

A thousand claws raked through my insides, and I screamed so hard my throat gave out, hoarse cries echoing through the townhouse.

The birth had begun too fast, too soon. Madja had arrived within minutes, but it was already clear she wasn't enough.

"I need Criva," I rasped through clenched teeth. My head lolled to the side, sweat pouring down my face, body trembling with effort. "Get me Criva. I want her—"

"I already sent for her," Azriel whispered, his voice rough and ragged. His leathers were streaked with my blood, his face pale as moonlight, eyes wide with a fear I'd never seen in him. "She's coming."

I could barely nod. My hands gripped the bedsheets, soaked with sweat, blood, and something else I didn't want to look at.

Azriel sat behind me, his strong arms supporting my back as I laboured, as I screamed and pushed and sobbed. He hadn't left me for a single breath. His shadows had vanished, like even they couldn't stand to witness this.

He was silent, save for the soft encouragement he whispered in my ear between contractions. "You're doing so well. Just a little more. You're almost there." But his voice shook.

Because we both knew what was happening.

My body—never meant to carry a baby with wings was breaking open from the inside. We hadn't made it past nine months. We hadn't made it to Helion. We hadn't made it to safety.

We had run out of time.

Madja's face was tense, brows furrowed, voice steady only because she had to be. But even she couldn't hide the worry.

"There's too much blood," she muttered under her breath, not realising I could still hear her. "Cauldron spare her."

I felt myself slipping, bit by bit, each contraction shearing off a part of me. The pain became something distant. Almost... detached. 

I couldn't feel my legs anymore. My arms were going numb. My vision blurred at the edges, dimming with every scream.

Azriel's arms tightened around me. "Stay with me. Stay with me—please, just a little longer—"

He was crying.

Azriel—my Azriel who never wept, who stood like stone in the face of blood and death, who had flown through hell itself without blinking was weeping openly into my hair, holding me like I was already halfway gone.

"I can't Az, I can't—" I sobbed, choking on the weight in my chest. "The wings—they're stuck, I feel it, it hurts—"

"I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing kisses into my damp temple, "I should've done more, I should've found Helion sooner—I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

Madja gave a sharp order, but her voice sounded like it was underwater now. 

I couldn't keep my eyes open. Couldn't breathe. I was drowning in pain and blood and the finality of what was coming.

I turned my face toward Azriel, blinking slowly, trying to see him one last time.

Everything was blurred, his face, the light, the edges of the room smearing together like water over ink. 

But I could still feel him. His warmth, the iron grip of his hand in mine, the tremble in his body as he held me like I was already fading from his grasp.

"Az," I whispered, barely a breath . "Listen to me."

His forehead pressed against mine, a trembling tether to this life. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"If I don't make it—"

"No." His voice was hard now, cracked and trembling but fierce when he spoke. "Don't say that. Don't you dare—"

"Azriel." My fingers curled weakly against his cheek, sticky with sweat and blood. "You have to promise me. Take care of the baby. Love them. For me."

He was crying harder now. Azriel, the warrior, the spy, the shadowsinger was breaking open right in front of me. The quiet sobs shuddered through his chest as he kissed every knuckle of my hand like they were sacred.

"You're going to do it yourself," he rasped. "You're going to hold them. You'll name them. You'll stay. I'm not doing any of this without you."

Silent tears streamed down his face as he clutched my hand.

I smiled faintly, too tired to argue. "Please. Promise me."

"I swear it," he choked. "I swear I'll protect them with everything I am. But please—don't you leave us."

I blinked slowly, the words on my tongue burning. "If... if it comes to that," I whispered, "tell them about me. Not just the good parts. Tell them I was scared, but I did it anyway. Tell them I chose them, every single day."

Azriel's throat bobbed. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears still falling freely. "I'll tell them everything."

"Let Eris meet them." The words made him flinch. "I know you don't trust him," I continued, voice rasping with each breath, "but I do. He's the reason I'm still alive. He's the reason this baby exists at all. Let him be part of their life."

His mouth pressed into a hard line. He didn't answer at first. I didn't blame him, he'd spent most of his life watching males like Eris destroy others. But he nodded, eventually.

"I'll try. For you."

"Thank you," I breathed. The pain surged again, white-hot and endless. I whimpered, arching slightly, my body convulsing as another wave crashed through me.

"Cauldron, please," Azriel begged, his arms tightening around me, helpless. "Just hold on a little longer."

"I need to see them," I whispered, looking toward the doorway.

He followed my gaze, and in a heartbeat, Rhysand and Cassian were there, already halfway in the room, their faces carved from shadow and anguish.

Cassian looked like a ghost. The whites of his eyes were too wide, his knuckles bone-pale. Rhysand stood beside him, a haunted look in his violet eyes.

"I did this," Rhysand whispered, guilt rolling off him like a tide. "I said it. I told her. That's when it started—"

"No." I looked at him, mustering what strength I had left. "Don't you dare carry this. You've all protected me in ways I'll never deserve. But you—all of you have to protect the baby now."

"Don't talk like this," Cassian said, voice thick. "Don't you dare."

"Cass..." I managed a half-laugh, pained and broken. "You're going to teach them to fly, right? You're going to be the wild uncle that gives them sugar before bed and lets them sneak off training."

He blinked hard, stepping closer, his throat working around words. "Of course I will. But you'll be there too. You'll watch. You'll yell at me for giving them too much cake."

"I'll try," I said softly. "But if I can't... if I don't... tell them I wanted them. Tell them they were born of love. Of choice. And that their mother was free when they came into the world."

Rhysand knelt beside the bed now, quiet for once. No smirks, no masks. Just a male grieving the possibility of another loss. "I will guard them," he swore. "Like they were my own."

"Thank you," I whispered.

Another scream ripped through me, this one shredding my throat. Blood soaked the sheets, too much, far too much, and the world around me tilted violently.

"Where's Criva?" Azriel shouted, raw panic now breaking fully through his control. "Where is she?!"

A flash of wind and shadow, Criva winnowed into the room, silver hair wind-whipped, eyes blazing, already shedding her cloak.

"Oh darling," she whispered, taking one look at the bed.

Madja gave her a quick nod and stepped aside. Azriel didn't even pretend to move.

"I'm staying right here," he announced through clenched teeth, blood on his hands, his chest, his face. "I'm not leaving her."

Criva nodded once, grim. "Then hold her. Keep her awake. If we lose her now..."

Azriel's arms were already locked around me like a lifeline, as if sheer will alone could anchor me to this life.

"I love you," I whispered, voice broken, blood in my mouth.

Azriel's lips pressed to my forehead, to my temple, to my hand. "Stay. Please... just stay."

The pain surged again, blazing, blinding. A fire brighter than flame. Darker than death.

Then, nothing but blood. Endless, crimson blood. And after that—

Darkness.

A/n - So... that happened.

I really hate goodbyes. Like, seriously hate them, so this one was super sad to write :( Of course, I had to drag Rhys and Cass into it too because what's a heartbreak without a little extra pain?

Thanks for reading and feeling all the messy emotions with me, it means a lot <33

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[siachaos]

lara raj x reader where lara is a vampire but reader isn't aware until they makeout so hard reader suddenly notices her fangs but that turns the reader on more so it went to more than just a makeout

🎧 now playing: heavenly creatures – Wolf Alice

“BLOOD ON YOUR TONGUE”

✦ pairing: lara (katseye) × fem!reader

✦ genre: dark romance, vampire AU

WARNINGS:

vampire!lara ✶ dom!lara ✶ human!reader ✶ supernatural tension ✶ oral ✶ fingering ✶ blood kink (no biting) ✶ power play ✶ fearplay-adjacent ✶ restraint/control ✶ bloodlust restraint ✶ heavy makeout ✶ neck fixation

SUMMARY:

Lara invites you to her place. You don’t know she’s a vampire.You kiss her like it’s the last night of your life—and she kisses like she’s been dead for centuries.When you see her fangs, you don’t run.You spread your legs.And she fucks you slowly, desperately, holding back the monster inside.But barely.

🦇“you don’t know what you’re doing to me. your blood’s in the air and your legs are open. you think i can survive that?”

✦ AUTHOR’S NOTE: ✦

Omg vampire Lara?? She’s so sexy it’s actually unreal. The bloodlust, the control, the fangs hovering over skin,yeah. I had way too much fun writing this, and I’m already full of filthy ideas 😭🖤 Hope you enjoy it because I am not normal about her.

The night air was thick with mist and mystery, curling in ghostlike tendrils around your ankles as you walked up the old stone path to Lara’s place. You’d never been here before, only heard vague descriptions—elegant, gothic, a little weird but sexy as hell. That was Lara. Strange, intoxicating, impossible to figure out.

She opened the door before you knocked. Of course.

“Hey,” you said, maybe a little breathless. You blamed the walk—not the way she was leaning against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, her long black coat hanging open over a wine-colored silk shirt and those black leather pants that fit like sin.

“You’re late,” Lara said, lips curling into a smirk.

You glanced at your phone. “By three minutes.”

“Still late.” She stepped aside, letting you in with a look that could pin you to the wall. “Come in. I don’t bite.”

You chuckled. “That’s a shame.”

If only you knew.

Her place was nothing like you expected—dark wood floors, blood-red drapes, candles burning low in iron sconces. It looked like something out of an old novel. There were books stacked everywhere, and the air smelled like cloves, old pages, and something you couldn’t quite place,something warm, metallic, and oddly enticing.

You took it all in, trying not to look as nervous as you felt. Lara’s presence always had a way of pulling something wild out of you, something that wanted to flirt with danger just to see what would happen.

“You live alone?” you asked, trailing a hand along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf.

“Of course,” she said, coming up behind you. Her voice was a low purr near your ear. “Wouldn’t want to share.”

Her fingers brushed the small of your back and you shivered—slightly, involuntarily.

“Cold?” she asked, clearly amused.

“No,” you lied.

She turned you around slowly, deliberately. “You shouldn’t be here, you know.”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, your heart skipping a beat.

“Dangerous girls live here.” Her gaze flicked to your lips. “Girls who like to taste things they shouldn’t.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head. “What if I like danger?”

Lara’s eyes flashed—too fast, too sharp. But it was gone in a blink. “Then maybe... you’ll get exactly what you’re asking for.”

You didn’t look away from Lara’s eyes, even as she stepped closer. The air between you thickened—electrified. She smelled like firewood and wine and something darker, something primal. It made your skin tingle.

She leaned in, her hand brushing up your arm, fingertips trailing your shoulder, your neck. You held your breath.

“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” she murmured, her lips ghosting your cheek.

“Then teach me,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

Lara kissed you like she’d been waiting centuries for it.

Her lips were soft but demanding, moving with a hunger that stunned you. You kissed her back, gasping into her mouth as she backed you into the nearest wall, her hands everywhere—your waist, your neck, your thigh. You weren’t sure when your jacket hit the floor. You didn’t care.

Her mouth traced down your jawline, tongue flicking against your pulse point. It sent a shock through your whole body.

You barely noticed the way her breathing changed. Shaky. Rough.

But you noticed her mouth hesitate just a second too long at your throat.

You felt it before you saw it.

The faintest press of something sharp. Not nails. Not teeth—

Fangs.

Your fingers tensed on her shirt. She pulled back, just slightly, lips red, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them—almost black, like twin pools of ink.

And the fangs—long, gleaming, inhuman peeking from her parted lips.

You should’ve been terrified.

But the rush of adrenaline in your blood didn’t bring fear. It brought heat.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, voice shaking,but not with fear. “You’re a vampire.”

Lara stilled.

Her jaw clenched. “You need to leave.”

You stared at her. Her chest was rising and falling fast, her pupils blown wide, fangs still visible. She looked wild. Dangerous. Beautiful.

“I don’t want to.”

“This isn’t a game, sweetheart.”

“I never said it was.”

Her hands were on your waist again before you could blink, pinning you to the wall. You gasped as her thigh slid between yours, her voice a low growl.

“Say it again. That you’re not afraid.”

“I’m not,” you said. “God, Lara, I want you.”

Lara hissed softly, eyes fluttering closed for a second. You could tell she was holding something back. Barely.

She kissed you again—harder this time, almost punishing. It was heat and teeth and desperation.

You moaned into her mouth as she lifted you off the floor, your legs wrapping around her automatically. She carried you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing, into the dark of her room.

The bed was soft and cold against your back.

Her hands, her mouth, her teeth,everywhere. You were drowning in her, unraveling beneath her touch. And through it all, she never bit. Even when her lips lingered at your throat. Even when she trembled with the effort.

She was holding back.

You could feel it.

But she never stopped.

And you never wanted her to.

Lara’s mouth was at your throat again, but this time, she didn’t kiss. She hovered. Breathing you in.

Her lips trembled.

You could feel the sharp tips of her fangs graze your skin, just barely—like she was teasing herself more than teasing you. You tangled your fingers in her hair, arching your neck to give her more.

“I said I’m not afraid,” you whispered, voice thick with want.

“I heard you,” she rasped, but her body was rigid. “That doesn’t mean I get to lose control.”

You cupped her face, guiding her back to your lips. She kissed you hungrily, her hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that made your breath catch. Every part of her was warm, pressed against you like a fire that could burn you alive—and you’d let it.

Her shirt came off first. Then yours. Her mouth explored your collarbones, your chest, the curve of your stomach, like she was memorizing you with her tongue.

You couldn’t stop trembling. Not from fear—but from the pressure building between your legs. From the way she looked at you like she was starving.

You weren’t sure if it was for sex… or blood.

Maybe both.

She kissed down your body with reverence and hunger, her touches alternating between gentle and possessive. You let her take control, gasping when her fingers found your soaked underwear.

She paused.

You blinked, panting. “Why are you stopping?”

She looked up at you. Her eyes were glowing now, faintly red in the candlelight.

“I can smell your blood,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “It’s in everything. Your sweat. Your breath. I can feel your pulse in your thighs.”

Your breath hitched. “Lara…”

She exhaled slowly through her nose, shaking her head like she was trying to clear it.

“I want you. I do. But you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You leaned up and kissed her again, slow this time. Gentle. “Then take me. Just… don’t bite.”

Her groan was almost guttural. “Fuck. You don’t make this easy.”

You smiled. “You like a challenge.”

Lara didn’t answer with words. She answered with her mouth—kissing down your stomach again before slipping your underwear down your thighs.

And then she buried her face between your legs.

The moan that tore from you echoed off the walls.

She was good. Too good. Inhumanly good. Her tongue moved in ways that made your back arch, your thighs tremble. She took her time, learning every sound you made, like she was studying how to ruin you perfectly.

When she added her fingers, you almost came undone.

But even as you lost yourself in the overwhelming pleasure, you were aware of her breathing—heavy, ragged. Of how tense her body had become. She was holding herself back like it was killing her.

“Lara,” you whimpered. “It’s okay.”

She looked up at you, mouth wet, lips swollen, pupils blown wide.

“No, it’s not. If I lose focus for even a second…”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to.

But you reached for her anyway, pulling her back up your body. You kissed her like you meant to break her restraint—like you wanted to be tasted, even if she couldn’t bite.

“Then don’t think,” you murmured against her lips. “Just fuck me.”

Lara growled. Growled—deep and low and almost feral.

And then she gave in.

She moved like something unchained.

Lara kissed you again, rough and deep, as her fingers slid back between your legs—confident now, practiced, and devastating. She pressed inside you slowly, filling you in a way that made your mouth fall open, breath catching in your throat.

You clung to her, nails digging into her back, your legs wrapped tight around her hips. She moved with purpose, curling her fingers just right, and the sensation lit fireworks behind your eyes.

“You feel like heaven,” she breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “And I’m stuck in hell trying not to fucking bite you.”

Your heart thundered, not in fear, but want. You reached up and kissed her—soft, then hungry, then shamelessly open as you rocked against her hand.

Lara cursed under her breath, teeth gritted.

She pressed her lips to your throat again, and this time, you felt her tremble—not with hesitation, but desperation.

“Let go,” you whispered. “I trust you.”

She froze.

You felt her breath—hot and shallow—against your skin. Her fangs grazed you again, too light to break the surface. She shuddered.

Then she moved her mouth away, burying her face against your shoulder.

“I can’t,” she growled. “I want to, but if I taste you… if I start…”

You kissed her jaw, her temple, anything you could reach. “Then don’t start. Just stay here with me. Like this.”

Her pace picked up again, fingers thrusting deeper, rougher, her thumb circling your clit in tight, precise strokes. You cried out, hips bucking. You were close—so close—and Lara could feel it.

“Come for me,” she whispered. “Right here. In my arms.”

You broke.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, wracking through your whole body, stealing your breath and your thoughts. You came hard, gasping her name over and over, fingers tangled in her hair like you might drown without her.

Lara didn’t stop—kept moving through your pleasure, drawing every last spasm out of you until you were shaking, boneless, dazed.

Only then did she pull her fingers from you and bring them to her lips.

You watched.

She licked them clean—slowly, deliberately and moaned.

“God,” she muttered. “You don’t know how hard this is.”

You reached for her, pulling her down into your arms.

“Tell me.”

She laid beside you, arm draped across your waist, her face still buried against your neck.

“I haven’t touched a human in years,” she murmured. “Not like this. It’s not just sex. It’s scent. Skin. Blood. The way your heart races when I’m on top of you… I feel it everywhere. It drives me fucking insane.”

You stroked her hair gently. “But you didn’t bite.”

She pulled back enough to look at you. “Barely.”

“But you didn’t.”

Her expression softened, just barely. “Yeah.”

You smiled, brushing her cheek with your thumb. “Then maybe we’ll figure this out.”

Lara’s voice was low, dangerous. “Or maybe I’ll lose control one day and ruin you forever.”

Your heart jumped—but not in fear.

“I’m willing to risk it,” you whispered. “Are you?”

She stared at you for a long, heavy second.

And then she kissed you. Slow this time. Like she didn’t want it to end.

[inksandpensblog]

Lopee IS The Game

Ever since the devs announced we'd be getting a way to destroy Painter, I've wondered how they'd have Sebastian respond to it.

The most I could imagine was something similar to Sans' response when you kill Papyrus in Undertale: once Papyrus has been dusted— regardless of what neutral run you're on —Sans seems to disappear from the game entirely, until his mandatory encounter in the judgement hall. The only hint that he's still around to keep an eye on you is a bit of flavor text that you only get if your battle with Shyren progresses into a concert.

I wondered if the devs would do something similar with Sebastian, and make it so that killing Painter took away our ability to interact with Sebastian at all. If Painter's room generated before Seb's shop, then maybe said shop would be empty of its merchant and we would be unable to buy any gear. Maybe when Seb yoinked files from our grasp, he would do so silently, rather than with a quip. Maybe if we died, he would refuse to appear on the death screen or give us any information on what had killed us. Things would only go back to normal once the progression of time reset itself and the player started a new run with a still-running Painter.

I don't know much about game design, much less that of Roblox games, but I was trying to think of what the devs would be capable of doing within the limits of programming hosted by the platform. In that vein, I was also trying to think of what the writers would be able to effectively justify while still allowing the gameplay to progress as normal.

Which is why Sebastian's actual response, not to mention Lopee's interference in the aftermath, blew me away from more than just the characterization or lore perspectives.

The objective of the main expedition is to retrieve the crystal.

After ripping our heart out with his bare hands, Sebastian declares his intent to remember us (which we already know he can do, given that he recognizes us when we visit the shop on every run) and to kill us on sight every time we return for a new run.

If Sebastian were to follow through on this, it would effectively mean that destroying Painter has hard-locked the player out of ever completing the main expedition.

Sebastian's response breaks the boundaries of the game. It interferes with game progression in such a way as to make achieving the win-condition impossible.

It's entirely fitting that Mr. Lopee interferes so directly and harshly. His existence is all about making sure nobody goes out of bounds. It's just that up until now, those efforts have been concentrated mostly on players.

This whole time, I'd been thinking of how Sebastian might respond within the boundaries of the game. I never considered that his response might actually be game-breaking, much less that the game itself would penalize him for it and then reset to correct course.

This game, man.

[callmenigma]

Heaven in His Hell

Summary: In a world where darkness clings to fame and demons whisper through the cracks of sanity, Jinu—an idol haunted by an unseen voice—meets a mysterious girl who radiates impossible calm. Drawn to her like a man drowning to air, he doesn’t yet know she’s an angel in disguise… nor that their connection defies the rules of heaven and hell. As obsession brews and fate unravels, a forbidden love begins to take root—between the damned and the divine.

Pairings: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining, forbidden love, demon, angel

Part 1: A Silence That Shouldn’t Exist

The sun had long retreated, shadows bleeding across the cityscape, neon lights and dim street lamps mingling together to form pools of artificial twilight. Jinu’s footsteps echoed quietly along empty pavement, and in the hollow darkness surrounding him, the familiar whispers stirred—relentless, mocking, and strangely comforting. Gwi-ma’s voice was always there, whispering doubts and taunting him with cruel laughter, constant and cruel like the buzz of electricity.

“You’re so predictable, Jinu,” it hissed, low and amused. “Sneaking out alone, again. Who are you fooling? You’re desperate.”

He grit his teeth, fingers tightening into fists at his side, pressing nails into skin until pain sparked brighter than the voice’s taunts. He knew it was reckless to wander here—he wasn’t meant to be alone on these dark streets—but tonight his chest felt tighter, heavier than usual. Tonight, he sought distraction.

That voice was always there. Whispering, clawing, biting through the edges of Jinu’s thoughts like rust. He could be smiling at fans, laughing on variety shows, or lying on his back in bed, staring up at a ceiling he couldn’t recognize anymore, and still—always—the voice crept in.

But tonight, the voice was louder than usual. Worse.

He shouldn’t have left the dorm. He knew that. His manager’s voice was still fresh in his ear, warning him to lay low. "Too many fans hanging around. It's getting risky."

And yet, here he was. Hood pulled up. Hands in pockets. Wandering the edge of Myeongdong like a shadow looking for a body.

He hadn’t meant to be in this part of the city. It wasn’t on his schedule—not that he followed it anyway these days. The staff thought he was at a late shoot, the manager thought he was in his hotel, and the truth was… even Jinu didn’t know what he was doing here.

The streets were quieter here. Older. They belonged to a version of Seoul that most people forgot existed. A flickering neon sign buzzed above a closed tailor shop, and the sharp bite of early evening clung to his collarbones. He tugged his hoodie a little lower, head down.

That’s when he saw you.

Standing beneath the washed-out glow of a streetlamp, your figure felt oddly ethereal, bathed in pale light that outlined your form in delicate clarity. Even from a distance, Jinu felt an unfamiliar shiver curl through his bones, something cautious yet curious. He watched you tilt your head slightly upward, eyes tracing something unseen above, the quietest smile curling your lips.

Something about you was… off. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what or why, but he was certain he’d never seen someone who radiated such peculiar calmness. Normal people had edges, imperfections, visible cracks—yet your outline felt blurred, softened. Your presence felt like a misplaced melody hummed softly beneath the noise, one he recognized somehow but couldn’t place from where.

Before he realized what he was doing, Jinu began to follow. The whispers in his head grew louder, accusing him:

"Look at you, drawn like a pathetic moth. You chase after shadows now?"

He ignored it. His heart quickened with each step, yet his feet moved on their own, guided by something deeper than mere curiosity.

Pathetic, Gwi-ma mocked again, Following after a girl you don't even know, desperately hoping she’ll save you from me?

"Shut up," Jinu muttered under his breath, hands curling into fists at his sides.

You moved gracefully, steps feather-light against concrete. Each moment he spent watching you only sharpened the unfamiliar ache in his chest. And when you paused at an intersection, your gaze slowly shifted, almost as if you sensed him, your head turned slightly.

Time slowed down as your eyes met his.

It happened in the blink of an eye, a fleeting heartbeat, but in that moment—there was silence.

Utter, pristine silence.

Gwi-ma’s mocking voice faded into nothingness. All the unbearable noise inside Jinu's mind dissipated, leaving him raw and vulnerable. He sucked in a sharp breath, the city's ambient noise clear and oddly comforting for once—car horns, footsteps, the gentle murmur of people nearby. He could hear his own breath trembling in disbelief.

He stared, unable to tear his eyes away. In the depth of your gaze, he saw something indefinable—a softness, a glow that no one else in this noisy, chaotic world possessed. Familiarity tugged at his heart, aching faintly. But it was distant, hidden behind veils of forgotten memories, unreachable.

“Who are you?” he murmured helplessly.

Before he could think clearly, your gaze broke away. The city blurred back to its chaotic noise again, violently wrenching Jinu back into reality.

Gwi-ma returned at full force, louder, crueler than before.

Ah, look at that desperation. It mocked, laughing cruelly in his head, making Jinu’s temples pulse with unbearable pain. How sad, Jinu—so desperate to grasp at silence that you'd chase after an illusion.

He winced, gritting his teeth against the agony that filled him. But despite the torment, he moved forward again, recklessly, desperately trying to follow after you.

Yet the crowd thickened suddenly, swallowing your figure effortlessly into a sea of anonymity. Panic rose sharply in Jinu’s chest as he searched frantically, eyes darting from face to face.

Gone.

She’s gone. Gwi-ma’s tone was disgustingly satisfied, dripping mockery. Now what will you do, pathetic little fool? Chase phantoms in the dark?

He stopped abruptly, head throbbing in agony, chest tight. Without the clarity of your presence, everything was louder, sharper, more painful. It felt as if every single noise pierced right through his skull.

But amidst the crippling headache and vicious mockery, one single truth became frighteningly clear:

He had to find you again.

Because, for once in his miserable existence, Jinu had finally felt silence—pure, gentle silence.

And now, even if it destroyed him, he was desperate to feel it again.

The hours slipped through Jinu’s fingers like smoke.

He wandered the streets long after the last shops had pulled down their rusted gates and the crowd had thinned to late-night stragglers and cigarette-lit ghosts. His hood was still pulled low, hands shoved deep into his pockets, but his pace had slowed from something desperate to something… numb.

He’d retraced every step. Twice. Three times. He’d turned down side alleys and empty stairwells, scanning rooftops and bus stops as if maybe—just maybe—you had lingered somewhere, waiting. But there was no sign of you.

No glow under another streetlamp. No humming silence. Nothing.

You were gone.

The ache in his chest had settled like a weight behind his ribs, dull and heavy, a reminder of something real—or not. A hallucination, maybe. A trick of the light. A lonely mind grasping for a miracle.

Gwi-ma was merciless.

Hours? You wandered for hours? Hah! That wasn’t silence, boy. That was madness. You're cracked open and bleeding, and you think salvation's gonna walk up to you wearing a pretty face?

Jinu didn’t answer. Not this time.

He’d let the voice rant. Let it claw and howl and jab at every raw spot it knew. But something in him had changed. Not enough to fix anything. But enough to resist.

It took effort—more than he’d admit—to lock the voice out. Like forcing a window shut during a typhoon. But he did it. Slowly. Deliberately. He pictured a heavy door inside his mind, thick and cold and bolted from the inside. And for now, Gwi-ma would stay on the other side.

The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It hurt. But it was his.

When he finally stumbled back into the dorm building, it was nearing 3 A.M. His feet dragged. His shoulders sagged. And his hoodie was soaked through with sweat and city fog.

The lobby lights buzzed dimly overhead. The familiar scent of sterilized floors and takeout containers filled the stale air. He was just reaching for the elevator button when a sharp voice cut through the haze.

"Jinu?"

He froze.

Their manager stood at the base of the stairwell, arms crossed, wearing a hoodie over his pajamas and dark circles under his eyes. He looked more confused than angry, which somehow made it worse.

“Where the hell were you?” the manager asked, walking forward slowly. “You didn’t answer your phone. You weren’t on set. You weren’t in the hotel. You just—what, vanished?”

Jinu opened his mouth. Closed it. The truth bubbled in his throat like a bruise.

I was chasing silence, he almost said. I saw an angel under a streetlamp and now my head won’t stop screaming.

But all that came out was, “I just needed air.”

The manager stared at him for a long beat, expression unreadable. “Air,” he echoed flatly.

Jinu nodded, not trusting himself to speak again.

With a sigh, the manager rubbed a hand over his face. “You scared the shit out of the staff, you know that? Next time you pull something like this, I swear—”

“I won’t,” Jinu interrupted quietly.

A lie. Or maybe not. He didn’t know yet.

There was silence again, but not the kind he wanted. This one was awkward, stretched thin by exhaustion and unspoken things. The manager finally stepped back, rubbing at his temple.

“Go to sleep. We’ve got rehearsal tomorrow.”

Jinu nodded again and stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut with a mechanical groan, boxing him in.

He leaned back against the wall, eyes closing as the hum of the machinery carried him upward.

He’d wandered the city for hours, searching for a stranger whose name he didn’t know. Maybe you hadn’t been real. Maybe his tired brain had finally snapped. Maybe Gwi-ma was right.

But still— He had felt something.

[storiesforallfandoms]

normal ~ frank castle;marvel

word count: 2348

request?: no

description: in which he hasn't experienced normal in a very long time, but she makes it easy to get used to it

pairing: frank castle x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of frank's past, somehow made a fluffy punisher fic? didn't mean for it to be this fluffy

masterlist (one, two, three)

It had been a long, long time since Frank Castle knew the word "normal". So long, in fact, that he wasn't sure if his life ever had been "normal". He was sure it never would be again in any case. Everyone knew how he was, what he had done, that he didn't regret any of it. He tried to move on after he got out of jail, but he saw the looks people gave him. The nervous glances, the side eyes, the whispers that followed him. Frank Castle could never be "normal" again.

Until he met you, a pretty waitress at a quiet diner he visited to get away.

Even your coworkers had glanced at him in fear when he walked in. They were debating among themselves about whether or not they should serve him when you walked right up to his table, water jug in hand and a smile on your face. He watched your movements as you filled his glass, then his eyes trained up to your face as you took his order. He was mesmerized by your beauty, and by the fact that you genuinely didn't seem afraid of him. You were treating him as if he were any normal customer.

"Just a coffee," he told you after holding eye contact for some time, just to see if you'd falter.

"You sure?" you asked. He nodded. "Well, I'll leave the menu in case you change your mind."

After you brought him his coffee, one of your coworkers walked up to you and whispered, "Are you crazy?! Do you know who that is?!"

You shook your head.

"He's The Punisher!"

You glanced over at your lone customer. His face did look vaguely familiar, but you hadn't followed the Punisher case as closely as most people in Hell's Kitchen. It was impossible to completely abstain from hearing any information about the trial, but you never knew who the guy was. All you knew was that he had killed bad men, and what was so wrong about that?

You looked back at your coworker and shrugged. "He looks like a man drinking a coffee to me."

Unbeknown to the both of you, Frank heard your entire conversation. He found himself smiling as he took a sip of his coffee.

A few days later, he was back at the diner. He had walked past and saw you through the window. He hadn't been hoping to see you or anything. Total coincidence. But since you were working, he figured he may as well stop in for another coffee.

You looked over as the bell over the door rang. Your smile caught him by surprise yet again, and yet he was smiling back.

"Come for another coffee?" you asked. He nodded. "Well, your booth is open. I'll bring it over."

He sat facing the counter, giving himself a view of you. He watched you pour a mug of coffee, then turn to the nearby fridge and pull a plate of something out. As you got closer, he realized it was a slice of lemon meringue pie.

"Oh, I don't - "

"On me," you cut him off. "Just in case you think the food is bad or something. This should prove it isn't."

He was smiling again. It felt foreign, as did the odd feeling growing in his chest.

The third time he came to the diner, it was almost as if you were waiting for him. You were already pouring him a cup of coffee and had a slice of pie waiting for him. You both locked eyes and shared a smile before he went to his usual booth. You brought his things over and said, "I'm off at 4. Will you wait for me?"

Frank nodded. You smiled at him and went back to work.

For two hours, Frank sat in that booth. You refilled his coffee once, brought him some food that he ordered himself. Your coworkers had grown somewhat used to him by now, but they still gave him looks whenever they passed his booth. He ignored them, focusing only on you.

When you were finished your shift, he paid for his meal and followed you out of the diner. You faced him, pulling on your coat. "Walk me home?"

"Lead the way."

You walked a steady pace, staying side by side. People cleared the path for both of you when they saw you coming - or rather, when they saw Frank coming.

"It's like having my own personal bodyguard," you joked.

Frank's jaw clenched. He had been trying to pretend that part of his life didn't exist when you were around. It was easier inside the walls of the diner where the only people he had seen was your coworkers, but now you were much more public. It was impossible to avoid the stares now.

You noticed Frank's tenseness. You put a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

"For what it's worth," you said, "I don't think what you did was wrong. You killed bad men who did bad things. What's the difference between that and the bad people the Avengers have killed trying to protect the city?"

"I don't think the Avengers have admitted to liking killing people."

"Not publicly. We could assume all of them like killing unless they come out and say, 'Hey, I hate hurting people and it makes my stomach sick'. But the truth is, to be a hero you have to be at least a little okay with violence. The public just chooses what kind of violence they're okay with."

Frank chuckled, humorlessly. "I'm not a hero."

You shrugged. "I never said you were. I just said you're not a bad person."

Frank found himself disappointed when you finally got to your apartment. He didn't want his time with you to end. Everything just felt right when he was with you. It was a strange feeling, almost wrong for him. Frank Castle didn't feel fuzzy inside because of a woman. He didn't frequent diners just to see said woman, he didn't walk said woman home and wish for time to stop so he could spend more time with her.

Not since Maria.

You turned to him. He kept his face stony, trying not to give anything away.

"Do you have a cell phone?" you asked.

This time, he was humored. "Of course."

"Give me your number."

A week later, Frank was back to your place for your first date. After texting for a few days, you had asked Frank if he wanted to go on a date. Frank had agreed in a heartbeat. For his comfort, you suggested that he come over and you'd make dinner for the two of you. Private, intimate. Frank's heart was beating a little too fast.

What is wrong with me? This is not me.

But what if it could be?

You were dressed in jeans and a blouse when you answered the door. Casual, which Frank was grateful for. He wasn't sure how to dress for a first date at someone's house, so he picked the nicest clothes he had - also a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He hadn't been stressed about it, though. Frank Castle didn't worry about how he dressed for a date. He was a violent vigilante who had seen the horrors of war. A simple date was nothing. It certainly was not making him nervous.

You brought him to your dining room, where you already had your dinner and some wine set out. You both sat down and started eating. The silence lasted all of a few moments before you started asking Frank about himself. He was hesitant first, not used to opening up about himself, but you were happy to fill the silences he left. The more you opened up, the more Frank's walls fell, and he found himself telling you things about him. Things he hadn't spoken about in a long time. Things that normal people talk about on first dates.

When you finished eating, Frank insisted on helping you clean up. He cleared the dishes off the table and dried them while you washed. He glanced over at you, a small smile on your face as you washed. You were softly humming. Frank wasn't sure if you knew you were doing it, but it was so cute he didn't want to bring it up.

"You know," Frank said once you had finished the dishes. "Dating me isn't going to be easy for you."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that a challenge?"

He chuckled. "No, not like that. I mean, you're trying to date a known violent vigilante that mowed down an entire gang, plus some. Everyone knows who I am, and what I did. They'll know who you're associating with, and they're not going to be too kind to you about it."

You shrugged. "I'm not too worried about it."

"But why?"

"Why?"

"You are the first person I've met who isn't afraid of me, and you don't seem too worried about being connected to me. Why?"

You looked like you were considering your answer for a while. Finally, you said, "I don't think what you did was wrong. Everyone thinks murder is the worst of the worst no matter what the reasoning is, but the truth is that the police in this town are awful. Most of them are paid off by various gangs so that they'll turn a blind eye to all the crime happening. There's a reason vigilantes like Daredevil exist, and why they take care of things. You just do the things that maybe Daredevil should do sometimes - you take care of the problem permanently. I don't think that's a bad thing; I don't think you're a bad person."

That was the first time Frank kissed you.

That was a year ago. Now, Frank got to wake up next to you every morning. He got to go out and work a normal job as a construction worker, and come home to you every night. He got to have dinner with you, watch whatever awful reality show you pulled him into hate watching, then fall asleep next to you.

He had a life he never would've dreamed about after Maria and the kids. But he was so happy. He couldn't remember ever being this happy.

Frank always woke up before you, so he always found himself just watching you for a while. You were always so peaceful, your face smushed into the pillow as you breathed heavily. He never did it for long because it felt weird, but he couldn't help himself. He was grateful to be here, to get to wake up next to you every morning. He was grateful that he got to leave his past behind him and build a new life with someone who saw him as more than just a monster, and loved him for all of his flaws.

One morning, you slowly blinked awake as Frank was looking at you. You smiled softly at him as you stretched out your sleep heavy limbs.

"Watching me sleep, you weirdo?" you asked, your voice still thick with fatigue.

Frank chuckled. "Maybe."

"That's weird."

"Hey, I'm sorry for thinking my girlfriend is beautiful even when she sleeps. Next time I wake up before you, I'll put a pillow over your face so I don't have to look at you."

You giggled and rolled towards him, snuggling your face in Frank's chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. He kissed the top of your head, taking in the familiar smell of your shampoo that was still lingering after your shower the night before.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you asked.

"I'm just really happy," he admitted.

You smiled to yourself. His confession made your heart warm. You knew how hard things had been for Frank, but you were by his side every step of the way. You supported him through his transition back into normal society when others tried so hard to shun him from it.

"I'm happy you're happy," you said. You moved so that you could kiss him on the cheek, but he quickly turned his head to capture your lips with his. You giggled into the kiss and let him pull you on top of him. "And I love you so much. I hope you know that."

"I do, but I don't mind hearing it again."

You leaned down to kiss Frank. "I love you, Frank Castle."

He smiled at you. "Fuck, how did I ever get so lucky?"

"You walked into my diner and ordered a single coffee," you reminded him.

"Worst fucking coffee of my life." You gasped and hit his arm. Frank laughed, putting his hands up to protect himself from your mock rage. "What? It's true! Honey, the coffee at the diner tastes like it was burnt days ago and you're still serving it. There's a reason I stopped ordering it once we got together."

"So you drank bad coffee just so you'd get to see me?"

"That pie slice you gave me the second time made up for the bad coffee."

You rolled your eyes, although it was still obviously playful. "Well, at least that was good. If you told me my favorite thing on the menu was bad, I may have had to reconsider this entire relationship."

You made the move to get up, but Frank quickly pulled you back down into bed. "Babe, I have to get ready for work!"

"You don't have to go to the diner for another two hours. That's plenty of time to stay in bed."

"I have to make breakfast before I go in."

"You work in a diner, get food there."

You sighed. There was no winning this battle. Just like there had been no winning the day before, or the day before that. So, you settled back down next to Frank, laying your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. He ran his hands through your hair.

It was peaceful. It was perfect.

~~~~~~

toss a coin to your witcher!

ko-fi.com/storiesforallfandoms

[unabashegirl]

Crave — part V

Y/N x Professor Harry Styles share a secret passion that could destroy them both. Crossing the line means risking everything.

Author's note: Hello, lovelies! Sorry it took me a bit to post — there have been lots of festivities lately, especially over the weekends! I'm currently visiting my mom in the U.S., and with the Fourth of July coming up this weekend, I'm trying to squeeze in as much writing as I can before Friday so you'll all have something to read 💛 I also want to make sure I get to enjoy some quality time with my mom! Anyway, let me know what you thought about Crave — I love hearing your reactions! ✨

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📌 crave's masterlist -> x

Y/N tried to go through her classes like normal, immersing herself in her work and in the day-to-day rush of campus life. But every time she caught a glimpse of Harry—or even thought she saw him in the distance—her heart would skip, and she’d immediately turn the other way. She’d been so convinced, for that brief, reckless moment, that what they shared had meant more. The memory of his touch, his warmth, lingered like a shadow, making it impossible to forget.

It was humiliating to think she’d allowed herself to believe that they could be more than just professor and student, that he might have seen her as more than a momentary slip, a mistake. She kept her head down in class, choosing a seat at the far back and barely looking up as he lectured, determined to keep her emotions hidden. She felt embarrassed, not just by what had happened but by her own feelings—by the fact that she wanted him, that she had let herself hope for something impossible.

And every time she thought of him, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of his final words. It had meant something to him, he’d said, but the line he’d drawn between them now felt unbreakable, as though he was warning her to let go.

It was a cold, gray Thursday afternoon, and Y/N was buried in her notebook, lost in an attempt to stay ahead of her assignments and keep her mind occupied. She’d almost forgotten the bitter cold creeping through the air when Liv’s voice pulled her back to reality, accompanied by the rush of footsteps closing in.

“Y/N!” Liv called, breathless and flushed from running across campus. She skidded to a stop beside her, panting heavily, eyes wide with a mix of excitement and disbelief. “Oh my god, have you heard the news?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by her friend’s urgency. “What are you talking about?”

Liv caught her breath, leaning forward with hands on her knees for a moment before standing up straight. “Professor Styles. He… he quit,” she managed, watching Y/N’s reaction closely. “Apparently, he’s leaving before the semester ends. Right now, he’s packing up his office.”

Y/N felt a strange, hollow sensation bloom in her chest as Liv’s words settled in. The world around her felt like it had tilted slightly, leaving her off-balance. He was leaving.

The words echoed in her mind, a relentless hum that drowned out everything else. He was leaving. She tried to keep her face neutral, but a spark of panic clawed its way through her chest, tightening with each passing second.

“Are you sure?” Y/N finally asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Liv nodded, looking at her with a sympathetic frown. “Yeah, I heard some of the other students talking about it, and then I saw him through his office window. He looked… busy, like he was packing up everything.” She placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I know he was your favorite professor. This sucks.”

Y/N could only nod, the hollow ache in her chest deepening. Her feet felt like lead, rooting her to the spot as she struggled to absorb what Liv had said. She couldn’t process it—couldn’t believe he’d actually leave. A surge of helplessness filled her as she thought of all the times she’d tried to catch his gaze, to at least get some closure or understand what he felt, only to be met with a carefully blank expression, a polite distance that seemed to stretch further each day.

“I—I have to go,” Y/N murmured, more to herself than to Liv.

Liv’s brows shot up, surprise flickering across her face, but she didn’t question it. She simply nodded. “Go on. If you need anything… let me know, okay?”

With a final, encouraging squeeze on her arm, Liv stepped back, letting Y/N make her way across campus. Each step felt heavier than the last as she neared his office, the cool air biting at her cheeks. Her mind raced with a thousand unspoken questions, a litany of what-ifs that hung in the air between them. She knew this was her only chance—if she didn’t go to him now, she’d regret it forever.

Finally, she reached his office door, slightly ajar, a glimpse of his familiar workspace now littered with boxes and the remnants of what had once made it feel like his space. Harry was there, moving through the small room in focused silence, packing books into a box with a quiet efficiency. He looked… different, a heaviness in his movements that seemed foreign, unnatural.

Y/N knocked softly on the doorframe, the sound barely audible over the hum of the building. He turned, surprised, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in what felt like an eternity. For a brief second, something flashed in his gaze—a mixture of regret, longing, maybe even pain—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his familiar guarded expression.

“Y/N,” he greeted her, his voice calm but distant. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight, every ounce of practiced composure unraveling as she stepped into his office. The space looked so foreign with the bare shelves, the emptied drawers, and the half-packed boxes scattered around. She was used to seeing his things carefully arranged, to the quiet warmth that lingered here despite his restrained demeanor. Now, it felt as if the life had been drained from it—like he was erasing himself.

“I just heard… that you’re leaving,” she managed, forcing the words out, though they sounded more vulnerable than she intended.

Harry nodded, his gaze dropping as he placed another book into a box, carefully avoiding her eyes. “Yes, I am. An opportunity came up, and it felt like the right time.” His tone was detached, businesslike, but she could hear the faint edge of something deeper beneath it.

She stepped closer, barely able to keep her voice steady. “You’re leaving before the semester ends…?” She couldn’t keep the ache from her words, and it lingered between them, heavy and unspoken.

His hands paused over the book he was holding, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. For a long moment, he seemed to be fighting with himself, and then he looked up at her, his eyes darker and more intense than she’d ever seen. “It’s for the best,” he replied softly, the words sounding as though he were trying to convince himself as much as her.

The weight of that simple statement settled over her like a stone, and she felt her chest tighten, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within her. “Is that all?” she whispered, the vulnerability slipping through her voice despite herself. “Just… leaving, what about me?”

His gaze held hers, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said quietly, almost pleading, though his expression remained controlled. But there was something there—a shadow of the connection they’d shared, the way he had looked at her that night, the way he had held her as though he’d never wanted to let go.

She took a shaky breath, not breaking his gaze. “It meant something to me,” she admitted, the words barely louder than a whisper. She didn’t know if it was foolish or brave to say it, but she couldn’t leave without him knowing. “I thought it did for you, too.”

Harry’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the carefully controlled mask he always wore slipped away, revealing the hint of vulnerability beneath. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking almost… defeated.

“It did mean something, Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it to himself as much as to her. “That’s why I’m leaving. I can’t stay here and pretend it didn’t happen, that it didn’t change… everything.” He swallowed, his gaze fixed on hers, searching her face as if hoping she would understand.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she took in his words. She wanted to argue, to tell him there had to be another way. But the look in his eyes stopped her—filled with regret, with longing, but also with a kind of painful resolve.

“You… you don’t have to leave,” she murmured, the words slipping out, even though she knew the answer. “We could just… figure it out.”

He shook his head slowly, a faint, sad smile tugging at his lips. “You and I both know it’s not that simple. I’d only be putting you in a more difficult position. I’ve already crossed lines I shouldn’t have.” His voice was steady, but there was a tightness in it, an undertone of guilt that twisted the knife even deeper.

Y/N felt a hot surge of frustration and sadness. This wasn’t how she’d imagined things would end—she hadn’t imagined an end at all.

The silence between them thickened, filled with everything they weren’t saying. Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she stood there, feeling like she was losing something she hadn’t even realized she needed so desperately.

“You’re just going to walk away?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly despite her best efforts to hold it together. She took a step closer, unable to help herself. “After everything, you’re going to leave me here like this, wondering if it was all in my head?”

Harry’s expression softened, his gaze flickering to the floor before returning to hers. “I’m leaving because it wasn’t in your head, Y/N. Because it was real, and if I stay…” He trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words. “If I stay, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself from wanting more. And that isn’t fair to you.”

She bit her lip, swallowing down the ache swelling in her throat. “Maybe that’s not your decision to make,” she whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Maybe I want more, too.”

A flicker of something—hope, perhaps—crossed his face before he clenched his jaw, the struggle evident in his expression. “I know you think that now,” he replied, his voice gentler, but still edged with finality. “But one day, you’ll understand why I’m doing this. And you’ll thank me for it.”

Y/N shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I don’t think I will.”

Harry looked at her, his own eyes bright with something he was trying hard to hold back. He stepped closer, his hand hovering just inches from her cheek as if he wanted to touch her, to hold her one last time, but couldn’t bring himself to break that final boundary. Instead, he let his hand fall back to his side, his voice barely a murmur as he spoke.

“For what it’s worth… you’ve made it impossible to leave without regret,” he said, his voice heavy. “But I don’t know how to stay without hurting you more.”

And with that, he turned, his steps slow and reluctant as he moved back toward his desk, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart splintering into pieces she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to gather again.

The next day, Y/N found herself numb as she walked through the empty campus, feeling the dull ache of Harry’s absence more intensely than she’d expected. She told herself it was better this way, that the clean break would hurt less in the long run. But as she neared his office one last time, something inside her wavered, and she found herself reaching for the door, her fingers brushing the handle before she pushed it open.

The room was bare, the shelves emptied, and his desk cleared, except for a single envelope resting in the center, her name written across it in his careful handwriting.

Her heart pounded as she reached for it, her hands trembling slightly as she unfolded the note.

Y/N,

I find it strange, writing this to you when I could have said it out loud, but some things are easier to say when you don’t have to watch the person they’re meant for look back at you.

Leaving wasn’t a choice I wanted to make, but it’s the only one that feels right. You deserve someone who can give you every part of themselves without restraint, who isn’t haunted by lines they’ve crossed or rules they’ve broken. I may have been reckless, but please don’t mistake that for regret. Knowing you, being close to you… those are the moments that will stay with me. They’ve already become memories I hold close, though I had no right to make them with you.

You are fiercely intelligent, maddeningly captivating, and you possess a lightness that I never meant to shadow. It’s not goodbye, because a connection like ours doesn’t disappear. I’ll carry you with me, as a quiet ache and an unforgettable truth.

Take care of yourself, Y/N. You are remarkable.

—Harry

As she read his words, her heart twisted. They captured everything he hadn’t said, and everything she had wanted to believe in.

Y/N read the letter over and over, her heart twisting with each line, his carefully chosen words both a balm and a wound. She could picture him sitting at that very desk, pen in hand, struggling over each sentence, the way he always did when something mattered to him.

The ache he left behind wasn’t just from his absence—it was from knowing he felt as deeply as she did, yet still chose to walk away. She slipped the note back into the envelope and held it tightly as she walked back to her dorm, trying to ignore the quiet hope that told her this couldn’t be the end.

The following days were filled with a strange emptiness. She went to class, pretended to listen, and tried to focus on her studies. But her thoughts kept circling back to him, to the mornings she’d glance at the door, half-expecting him to walk in with his usual calm and a quiet look in her direction. His absence felt like a physical space, one she kept accidentally stumbling into.

One chilly afternoon, as she sat by the library window with her textbooks, she caught sight of his office door across the courtyard. Her heart squeezed at the sight, knowing it was someone else’s now, that his papers, his books, his scent were all gone. She thought about going in, just once more, but she couldn’t bring herself to face that emptiness.

But just as she turned back to her books, she noticed a familiar figure walking across the courtyard. Her heart nearly stopped—it was him.

Y/N’s heart stuttered as she watched Harry stride across the courtyard, hands in the pockets of his coat, head down as if deep in thought. It was surreal, seeing him so suddenly when she’d nearly convinced herself she’d never see him again.

Without another thought, she gathered her things and hurried outside, her pulse racing as she tried to catch up. She called his name, her voice barely above a whisper at first, but loud enough to reach him in the quiet of the late afternoon. He slowed, pausing, then turned to see her approaching. His eyes softened as they landed on her, but there was a guardedness to his expression, a hesitation that tugged at her heart.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place. He looked as if he’d been bracing himself for this moment, yet it still seemed to catch him off-guard.

For a moment, they just stood there, an unspoken tension weaving between them. She took a steadying breath, trying to gather her thoughts, but everything she’d rehearsed melted away now that he was in front of her.

“Why did you come back?” she asked finally, her voice barely a murmur, as if saying it louder would make him disappear.

Harry looked down, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Loose ends,” he said, almost to himself, before meeting her gaze again. “There were things I hadn’t finished… or things I thought I could leave behind.”

She swallowed, a spark of hope stirring within her, but she kept her expression steady. “Like what?”

He glanced around, as if searching for the right words. “Like you,” he admitted quietly. His gaze was intense, fixed on hers, and in that moment, she felt every unsaid thing between them ripple to the surface, like a wave threatening to pull her under.

A shiver ran down her spine at his words, but she held herself still, her heart pounding wildly. “Then why did you leave?” she whispered, unable to keep the ache from her voice.

Harry exhaled, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” he said, his voice strained. “But sometimes isn’t about doing what is right, but what feels right.” He stepped closer, just enough for her to feel the warmth radiating from him, his gaze searching hers. “Should we try again?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, a flicker of disbelief mixed with the hope that had refused to fade. Without a word, she nodded, feeling that if she spoke, the spell would break. And for a moment, they just stood there, the world quiet around them, holding onto the fragile hope they’d both found their way back to.

Harry stepped closer, the intensity of his gaze sweeping over her, as if he were drinking in every detail—the curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled with uncertainty yet hope. “I’ve never wanted anything more,” he admitted, his voice steadying, grounding her in the chaos of emotions swirling between them.

She took a hesitant step forward, her heart racing as he mirrored her movement. The air around them thickened with a familiar tension, the kind they had danced around for so long.

“Then show me,” she challenged, a teasing lilt creeping into her voice, emboldened by the depth of what they both knew they wanted. “Show me that you’re serious about this.”

With a grin that sent shivers down her spine, Harry closed the gap between them, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, grazing her skin, and she felt a jolt of electricity pass through her.

“Here?” he asked, his voice low and husky, eyes darkening with desire. “Or somewhere more… private?”

“Somewhere more private,” she whispered, heart racing, anticipation dancing on the edge of her thoughts.

With a shared glance that spoke volumes, they turned and walked away from the familiar, hand in hand, stepping into a world that felt both new and achingly familiar. The campus faded behind them, replaced by the promise of uncharted territory—together, this time, no walls between them.

let me know what you think! i really hope you liked it!

TAGLIST: @cathy-1997, @vaseoftulips, @emmie2308, @lichi-dunkera, @s-280526, @sstylezzz, @ciriceimpera, @valeriiyuhh

[bloodsoakedsorrow]

Promise Me Forever —

Synopsis — Your fiancé was gone. The world moved on, but you were left behind—clutching a ring, a memory, and a promise that was never fulfilled. Years later, fate leads you down a familiar street… and into the eyes of a man you thought you’d never see again.

Pairing — Sakunosuke Oda x F! Reader, PLATONIC! Dazai | F! Reader

Warnings — Hurt/not actual comfort, mentions of death, mentions of suicide, miscommunication?, the reader is kinda unreasonable, not beta read we die like Odasaku

Authors Note — Sup, I wrote this at 2 am and honestly it got sadder than I wanted it to lol. If you guys like it I could write a part 2 with the reader and Dazai reconnecting and starting fresh! I haven't written anything in a long time so I'm a bit rusty, sorry!

Word count — 2,5k

It was meant to be a day like any other. You expected to return home from work, greeted by your fiancé, ready to head out to see the children he cared for. In fact, you had plans to join him. But as you stepped into your shared apartment, all that met you was silence. An unsettling chill washed over you, the kind that hinted that something was amiss. You tried to dismiss it at first, convincing yourself that maybe Oda had left earlier and simply forgot to inform you. That had to be the reason, right? Yet, the gnawing unease lingered, refusing to dissipate. Anxiety nudged you to reach for your phone and call him, your mind insisting that your worries were merely paranoia. You recited that mantra repeatedly while waiting for him to answer as if it could shield you from the storm brewing inside your chest.

When his voice finally came through, relief flooded your senses, nearly leaving you dizzy. But before you could speak, you realized it was just a voicemail. You glanced at your phone's screen and hung up, trying to rationalize it. Perhaps he was caught up in something and couldn’t pick up right away. Surely, he would call you back. This was a mantra you clung to as you sank into the couch, anticipation simmering, but five minutes turned to ten, and ten to fifteen, with nothing but silence filling the air. As anxiety gripped you tighter, you scrolled through your contacts, seeking someone who might have answers. Dazai. Oda's close friend, a boy entangled in the chaos of a life you hardly grasped. Despite his tumultuous surroundings, you had grown fond of him—just a child seeking a glimmer of hope in a dark world. You often expressed your wish that Dazai could escape the mafia's clutches, yearning for him to find a normal life.

You had even mentioned taking him in yourself if it came to that. Oda had laughed then, suggesting that convincing Dazai to abandon his life was nearly impossible. Yet you remained hopeful. After all, he liked you, didn’t he? He often asked Oda about you while they drank at Bar Lupin, or came to you for advice following another failed suicide attempt. Initially, it worried you, but soon it became a topic of such familiarity that you believed he would never truly go through with it.

The moment Oda didn’t answer, Dazai was your only option. Well, there was Ango, too, but you didn’t even have his number. Without hesitation, you dialed Dazai’s number, listening to the beeping tone as you waited for him to pick up. But once again, you were met with silence. Panic clawed at your insides. What was happening? The unease in your chest constricted painfully, making it hard to breathe. You sat there, grappling with the hope that one of them would call back, ensuring you everything was fine—that this was but a misunderstanding. Time stretched on, darkness creeping in as the hours slipped away without answers.

Just as you were about to rise and search for him, a knock echoed through the apartment. You dashed to the door, heart racing with the hope that it would be Oda or at least Dazai. Instead, you were met by a man and a woman dressed in somber black suits, their sunglasses masking their eyes.

“[Name]?” the man asked, uncertainty lacing his voice. You nodded, the initial excitement draining away, leaving only confusion and dread. Before you could question them, the woman spoke, delivering a message you never thought you would hear. The rest became a blur, their half-hearted “sorry for your loss” echoing in your mind as they left you alone, crumpling to your knees as you processed the crushing weight of their words. You had no recollection of how you ended up on the sofa, clutching a framed photo of you and Oda from one of your first dates, tears streaming down your face as gut-wrenching sobs escaped your lips.

Time slipped away, and before you knew it, the day of the funeral had arrived. To your horror, almost no one came. A few familiar faces appeared, people who barely knew him; the absence of those from the mafia struck you deeply. Not even Dazai or Ango, the two who had always been by his side, were there. You buried your fiancé alone, with only your grief to accompany you. After the ceremony, you returned to the apartment, feeling like a hollow shell. The home you had shared felt alien, filled with ghostly echoes of laughter and warmth that now turned starkly painful. His clothes still bore the scent of his cologne, and the sheets you once shared were now a source of sickness.

You realized nothing would ever be the same. You found yourself on the bathroom floor, staring at your engagement ring, tears flowing like an endless river. Days turned into a blur, and eventually, you ran dry of tears, left with nothing but an empty ache in your heart. The most agonizing part? You still had no idea what had happened to him. That is, until a few months later when an unexpected knock echoed at your door. You opened it to find Ango, adjusting his glasses awkwardly, concern etched across his features. You looked like a ghost, haunted by grief—dark circles under your eyes and skin pale from neglect. He noticed the weight you had lost, your engagement ring nearly slipping off your finger.

“What are you doing here, Ango?” you asked quietly. He hadn’t even shown up at the funeral, making his visit all the more confusing.

“You don’t look too well, [Name]. How are you feeling?” The question made you sick. How did he think you felt? You wanted to scream for him to leave, to let you wallow in your sorrow alone, but you lacked the strength. Instead, you shrugged, the words spilling out coldly.

“I feel like a widow, except I never got the chance to marry my husband. So, legally, I’m not even allowed to call myself that.” Your voice dripped with exhaustion. Ango wanted to say something, but found no words that would fit the moment, ultimately settling on silence instead.

“There’s something I need to tell you. Can I come in?” he asked, guilt lacing his request. You nodded, returning inside without a word as he followed. The living room felt unchanged, a museum of memories that stung your heart. Ango’s gaze swept across the room, a stark reminder of what remained the same while you felt like you had disintegrated.

You sat on the couch, hugging the photograph of Oda as if it could shield you from the pain, while Ango took a seat across from you. He cleared his throat, deciding to start from the beginning. He explained how he had been working for the government all along, and how the chaos of the Mimic situation had led to Oda’s demise. He watched your face, searching for signs of your anger or disappointment, but you felt nothing—just a hollow void. Your mind wandered back to the children he had cared for, the orphans who had been caught in the crossfire of a life neither of you really wanted. You understood why he had fought for them; they were his heart. But the bitterness grew within you, the nagging thought of 'What about me?' biting at your resolve. What about the promises made, the future envisioned?

You glanced at the photo in your hand before returning your gaze to Ango, who was now visibly concerned.

“What happened to Dazai?” you murmured. The question seemed to catch him off guard.

“He left the Mafia. That’s all I can say right now.” Your heart sank, bitterness pooling at the back of your throat. After all this time, all that hope, and he had chosen to walk away without so much as a goodbye. It was so very Dazai—escaping without a trace, while you were left to grapple with the emptiness.

“It’s getting late, Ango. Thank you for coming. I think it’s best you go now.” Ango nodded, standing to leave, understanding that he had overstayed his welcome. He thanked you for listening and walked out, leaving you to your solitude.

Four years passed in a haze, a relentless cycle of grief and survival. You worked multiple jobs, barely scraping by, all while caring for a cat you adopted to stave off the loneliness. Every time you looked into its eyes, you were reminded of Oda, and of the dreams you had shared. Your mind sometimes wandered back to Dazai—wondering if he had succumbed to his demons after all. You hadn’t heard from him, and it was easy to assume the worst.

Now, as you left the convenience store, a craving for Onigiri pulling you forward, you focused on the bustling streets of Yokohama. Yet, an odd voice pulled your attention away.

“Ahhhh, Kunikida-kuuuun! Do I REALLY have to fill out all that paperwork??” the voice whined, eliciting a stern response from Kunikida. “Yes, you waste of good bandages! You suicidal maniac! How could you jump in front of a police car to kill yourself during work hours? So much time WASTED!! My schedule, RUINED!!”

You couldn’t make sense of their exchange, dismissing it as none of your business. Just as you turned to leave, the voice echoed again, “I can’t do this with you anymore, Dazai. Take Atsushi if you plan to do crazy stuff like that!” Time seemed to freeze as recognition hit you. Eyes wide, you turned to face them. Dazai stood there, looking so different—an adult now, but more importantly, he radiated a vibrancy you hadn’t seen before. It should have made you happy, but instead, resentment swelled within you.

How was this fair? How did he move on while you were left to pick up the pieces of your shattered life, burdened by memories and an unfulfilled promise? The injustice squeezed your throat, crying out for release, but you quickly turned and hurried away before he could see your pain.

The week passed in a blur, and soon it was time for your weekly visit to the cemetery, a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Oda had never cared for fancy arrangements, preferring the wild blooms that reminded him of you and now, you were doing the same thing for him as well. You laid them on his grave, tending to the site as you described your week, pretending he could hear you, hoping for a whisper of comfort amid the stillness.

“Why did you leave me like this, Oda? Did you not love me enough to stay?” The question hung heavy in the air, echoing in your mind as you hugged the gravestone, tears cascading down your cheeks. The longing for answers had haunted you since that day.

“Odasaku loved you more than you could imagine,” a familiar voice broke the silence, and you looked up to see Dazai standing there, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“What are you doing here?” was all you could manage to ask. Dazai, standing a distance away, hands in his pockets, looked almost vulnerable.

“I come here sometimes,” he replied, avoiding your gaze. “To talk to him.” You scoffed, bitter laughter escaping your lips. The silence between you grew thick, laden with unspoken words. Oda’s gravestone bore his name, but it might as well have been a mirror reflecting everything you both had lost.

Dazai finally met your eyes, his own filled with exhaustion. “I saw you that day. On the street.” Panic flared in your chest. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you demanded, your voice trembling.

“Because I didn’t think I had the right.”

That snapped something inside you. “You didn’t have the right? You think disappearing without a word after Oda died gave you some moral high ground? You were my friend too, Dazai.”

“I made a promise to him. I had to honor it, and that meant disappearing immediately.”

His words set your heart aflame. “We had promises too! He promised me forever! We were going to get married, leave this city! He was going to write a novel; we wanted to live quietly! He said we just had to wait a little longer!”

“I know,” Dazai replied, stepping closer, his voice steady. “He told me.”

“Did he tell you I wanted you to come with us? That I wanted him to convince you to leave that life behind? Why are you living a good life now while he is dead?” Your voice trembled with resentment, the bitterness spilling out. You knew it was wrong to think like that, and even worse saying it out loud to his face, but the four years of suppressed feelings caught up with you quickly and mercilessly.

Dazai fell silent, his expression darkening. The wind rustled through the trees, amplifying the weight of your grief. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, deliberate.

“He was bleeding out in my arms, you know?. It was slow, quiet. He didn’t even complain about the pain. He just looked at me like he knew what was going to happen.” You couldn’t bear to hear it, wanting to cover your ears. Why tell you now? Why not then?

“One of the last things he said was for me to be on the side that saves people, the one that protects the innocent. But you can’t just leave the mafia like that; there is no ‘I want out.’ I had to disappear, or I wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.”

The words cut through you, sharp and merciless. Just as you turned to leave, he continued. “He mentioned you too.”

You froze, unable to move. “He said he was sorry. He said he loved you, but he had to end it like that. He didn’t specify why, but I’m guessing the orphans were just the beginning. If he didn’t play the role Mori gave him, you might have been next, which ultimately would've droven him to his death either way.”

Your knuckles were white from how tightly you gripped your fists. You couldn’t comprehend the horror he was unveiling, emotions swirling chaotically within you.

“Dazai, it’s been four years. Good for you for finding change, but it doesn’t change anything for me. If I had known four years ago, maybe things would be different now. I’m happy for you, I hope you keep honoring Oda's memory by keeping that promise. Take care, Osamu.” You spoke softly, yet the weight of your words hung heavily between you, leaving a bitter taste in the air.

Dazai flinched at your use of his first name, unsure if he deserved it. He felt a pang of remorse for everything left unspoken, pondering if he should have taken you with him instead.

“You know, [Name], I work at the Armed Detective Agency now. If you ever need something, that’s where you can find me. I’m sure everyone will welcome you like family.” His words sounded like an attempt to mend the past, but you could only nod, leaving him uncertain if you would ever reach out. Even if you didn’t, he had been watching over you these past four years—a silent promise he made to Oda: to protect the innocent, and that included you.

Copyright © 2025 Bloodsoakedsorrow.

[bubblidelightz]

Things To Script - Time Period Edition !

Futuristic ;

𐙚 technology has surpassed what it is here,waning there are flying cars, hoverboards that actually hover, etc .

𐙚 people can travel to different planets as they wish with no danger or worry . ⊹₊ ⋆

𐙚 some people are robot, like cyborgs that humans just coexist with . (Script that they never want war with humans, please!) ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

𐙚 all diseases have a cure and no one can really die from diseases. There’s a new vaccine type thing where people take a shot that strengthens your immune system and makes it practically impossible to get sick .

2010s ;

𐙚 “My Space” never shuts down . Ever .

𐙚 cyberbullying isn’t a growing epidemic?? ✧˖°

𐙚 music made in this era continues to be made until late 2030s, or whenever you decide . 2014-18 was prime for my music freaks . ༘⋆𝜗𝜚

𐙚 musically never changes to tiktok/ they become two separate apps .

𐙚 vine never gets shut down . ₊˚⊹ ᰔ‧₊˚⊹

𐙚 people don’t do crazy out of pockets things/“challenges” to get famous .

2000s ;

𐙚 music and movies you watch or listen too in modern times exist here !!! ⋆˚˖ °

𐙚 slurs aren’t spat out like it’s normal ? Hello ?

𐙚 television quality is better ˚⋆｡⋆.✧˚

𐙚 Tabloid culture doesn’t exist . Celebrities are respected and left alone .

𐙚 you can afford all the clothes you want . ₊˚⊹ᰔ

𐙚 recycling is seen as normal and done often, the world is much healthier and water is saved .

𐙚 racist media and tokenism doesn’t exist . ᯓᝰ.ᐟ

90s ;

𐙚 you have a large friend group (i just feel like for a 90s set dr, you kinda need a big friend group . It’s like, a need .) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

𐙚 there are no smartphones . Or, if you love phones, there are smartphones and they are just like the ones we have in modern times . .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𐙚 fatphobia/diet culture DOES NOT EXIST . Nobody cares about anyone else’s body .ᐟ ⸝⸝

𐙚 low rise jeans don’t exist . Fight me . ⊹₊ ⋆

80s ;

𐙚 you aren’t bothered by cigarettes (because honeyyyyy….).

𐙚 You have vhs tapes with all of your favorite movies and shows on them that you can watch whenever you want . ༘⋆

𐙚 there’s special events at the roller rinks every Friday and Saturday, and you and friends go and skate around all night .

𐙚 your parents aren’t strict . . .

𐙚 the AIDS crisis never happened/ AIDS doesn’t exist . ˚⟡.•

𐙚 the police brutality people faced during this time doesn’t exist . ⋆˚࿔

𐙚 media, such as movies and tv shows are diverse and varied in race and ethnicity . 𓇼 ⋆˙⟡

70s ;

𐙚 you can afford to go to every music festival .

𐙚 your favorite artists exist here . ᰔᩚ ༉‧₊˚.

𐙚 it’s not serial killer central ???

𐙚 secondhand smoke doesn’t bother you. Or even better, nobody smokes ! ✶ ⋆.˚

𐙚 racism, sexism, and homophobia isn’t as heavy as it is here .

𐙚 Mental healthy is payed attention too and cared for . Nobody is dismissed for wanting therapy, help, etc . ꒰🗽꒱

60s and below ;

𐙚 racism, homophobia, sexism, doesn’t exist . ˎˊ˗

𐙚 drive in theatres, milkshakes, diners, etc, are kept along the rest of time and still normalized in modern day . ⋆⑅˚₊

𐙚 you meet important figures, like Albert Einstein, Amelia Earhart, Nikola Tesla, etc . ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[fableforger]

The mind control ask gave me an idea for something more lighthearted (and straight out of a cartoon 😂).

How would the ROs react to an MC who not only gets hypnotized afer confidently declaring they can't be hypnotized, but then confesses their feelings for the RO?

For context: 👉🏻 Previous Mind Control Ask

Hello! First of all, thank you so much for the ask - even if it took me forever to respond. Shame on me 🙈

But now, finally:

Beware: Since this is a RO-related ask, there may be minor spoilers ahead. Please keep scrolling if you’d prefer to stay unspoiled.

..............................................................................................................................

You swore - loudly, confidently, possibly with crossed arms and a raised brow -

“I can’t be hypnotized.”

Not you. Never. Impossible.

Two seconds later:

Blank eyes. Slack jaw.

And then, in a voice sweet as honey:

“I think about your hands way more than I should.”

--

Theron / Thera

Covers their mouth. Not in shock, but in order not to laugh.

They are far too polite to interrupt - but the corners of their mouth are definitely shaking.

You’re lying in the grass, whispering about how their eyes look like moss in the rain.

They just nod. Calmly.

“Very interesting. Please continue.”

Normally, they wouldn’t listen to words drawn out by anything unnatural.

They don’t believe in forced truths.

But this time… they can’t help themselves.

Because you are just so unbearably adorable.

--

Dorian / Dione

Collapses. Laughs so hard they choke on air.

“I will never let you forget this.”

Pulls out a scroll. Starts writing. Title: ‘Things You Said While Hypnotized Vol. I’

You are now a one-person comedy show and they are the live audience you never asked for.

Gods help you.

---

Alexos / Alexa

Their soul visibly leaves their body.

They try to tell themselves:

“They’re hypnotized. They’re not themselves. This means nothing.”

This means everything and they know it.

They try to stop you. Not for your sake - for theirs.

Because they cannot handle you complimenting their hands the whole time.

They spend the next five minutes trying to unhypnotize you with sheer willpower. Doesn’t work. But looks very intimidating.

---

Zephiron / Zephyra

You have exactly one second of smug superiority:

“See? Hypnosis is just -”

Bam. You drop like a stone. Eyes glassy. Voice dreamy.

You start muttering something about how they “move like a snowflake… and… beautiful hair.”

They blink. Then they laugh. Slowly.

And lean in, clearly enjoying every second.

“And how do you think my lips taste, hmm?”

Ohhh, you are so deeply doomed.

“And what’s your favorite part of my body?”

Theron/Thera has to step in - not just to save you from them,

but from yourself.

--

Drakon

He stands there, arms crossed. Blank expression. Watches the disaster unfold in real time.

You, lovingly:

“You’re like a tragic sunset. I love that.”

Him, blinking once:

“What.”

And then - unexpectedly - he gets angry.

Not at you. At the spell.

Because how dare this ridiculous hypnosis make you say things you didn’t choose to.

He prefers you in your right state of mind.

Even if that mind is sometimes stubborn, annoying, or argumentative.

He strides over and just picks you up - either slinging you over his shoulder or tucking you under one arm, depending on your height and dignity.

Then, after a few steps, he pauses.

“Fine. I’m curious. …Explain the sunset.”

---

???

Gasps. Loudly.

“OH! Is it working?! IS IT ACTUALLY WORKING?!”

She crouches down in front of you like she’s watching a butterfly emerge from its cocoon.

“What’s it like? What do you see? Do you feel warm on the inside? Say something cute!!”

You blink slowly. Murmur something emotional.

While you’re still under, mid-confession, she’s already raising her hand.

“I volunteer to go next!!”

Everyone else immediately agrees that this is a terrible idea.

She already says everything the moment she thinks it. She already blurts out her feelings mid-sentence without magical interference.

Hypnotizing her would be like trying to teach Poseidon how to swim. Pointless. Overkill. But she still wants to try.

--

Rhaelos / Rhaela

Stands perfectly still. Unmoving. Silent.

Watches as you, eyes glassy, begin your descent into hypnotized honesty.

At first, they bear it with dignified calm.

You: “Your face looks like it was carved to make people confess sins they'd never committed.”

Them: “...Noted.”

Then it gets worse.

“Your hands look like they could destroy me or cradle me. I’d let them do both.”

“You smell like cold steel and the kind of night you never forget.”

“Your entire existence is morally intimidating… and I love that.”

And then something… shifts.

A single vein at the side of their neck pulses slightly. Their jaw tightens.

A slow, creeping redness begins to climb from beneath the collar of their armor.

By the time you whisper:

“You’re the sexiest embodiment of accountability I’ve ever seen,”

they are visibly red.

They say nothing.

But they turn away.

Very slowly.

And do not look back for a long time.

[pinkbrries]

𝐈-𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃: THROUGH JUNE’S EYES

EPISODE 1

back to the masterlist | next episode

➞ words in between hyphens (—) are the subtitles appearing on the screen.

➞ this will be divided between what is happening through the episode (headcanon and normal narration), june talking to other trainees, interventions from the judges(?) and interview parts // words in bold are in english, words in italic are in japanese

➞ there will be drabbles and behind the scene content for this episode !!

↳ tw: some mentions of anxiety, buts that’s it:)

note: the other girls appearing as trainees are also fictional!! so they’re four girls in total (nabi, jae, jiho and (ofc) june)

nini says💬: decided to post this one because i have small scenarios that come from this post too so… enjoy?? lol

taglist: @nevyxx | find june’s masterlist here.

“Are you sure this is the way, unnie?”

Jiho scoffs, squeezing June’s arms while they start walking down the rock path. “How would I know? This is my first time coming too.”

June rolls her eyes, looking around, “I mean, yeah but— Ouch! Unnie! Stop grabbing my arm like that!”

Jiho holds into June tighter, making the younger pout. “I’m not even sorry, you know how nervous I get with stuff like this, June.”

“Pff… Whatever,” the younger mutters in feign annoyance, pushing her older friend’s hand away from her poor arm and instead linking their arms together.

When they told June that the survival she was going to be joining was in the middle of nowhere, she really didn’t think it’d be literal. This whole forest thing gave her “hunger games” vibes, and even if she knew that her brain was joking, she also knew that nothing was impossible when it came to mnet and their shows.

[zico: oh! two more girls?]

[bang sihyuk: yes, we added four girls]

[rain: to form a group just like seventeen, txt, right? *bang sihyuk nods* interesting]

“Why are there so many steps?” Jiho takes June out of her thoughts, making her laugh because she kicked a rock but it almost made her fall. “I hate it here.”

“Not surprised.”

Both girls keep walking in silence, until they see a weird construction in the middle of the big green area, and June (being June) pulls Jiho with her, making the slightly shorter girl almost trip (again.)

June gasps in excitement, “unnie! Look at this!” June starts jumping in excitement, making Jiho giggle. “This looks straight out of a marvel movie!” June turns to face Jiho, a big smile on her face, “are we the avengers now?”

their faces finally get focused and you can hear zico and rain going *dramatic gasp*

“Well, if we’re the avengers now? I call dibs on Ironman, let me get the bag,” the older says, walking beside June and getting closer to the immense door. June pouts.

“You get the bag, but you also die.”

“Looks like my luck it’s finally getting better then,” the girl adds in a sarcastic tone, making June cackle.

[zico: is that jiho from produce 48? *bang sihyuk nods* i almost didn’t recognize her!]

[bang sihyuk: jiho has been training for a year and a half with us now, she’s a really good singer and can compose her own songs too]

[rain: and that’s june from mixnine right?]

[zico: part of the final lineup *rain hums* she was very popular, everyone would talk about her because she was an independent trainee]

[bang sihyuk: june is our hidden ace, a very talented girl. i know people it’s going to be happy to see her again]

the little box of information pops out beside the girl’s faces

KIM JIHO (22) - korea/us | training: 1 year and a half | etc: played in the youth orchestra for three consecutive years.

JUNE (20) - korea/england | training: 2 years and a half | etc: did fencing professionally for 6 years.

Standing in front of the door, June looks around to see if someone is there or if there was a button they had to press… But there was nothing.

Wow, too much for a weird building in the middle of nowhere that probably cost millions of dollars.

Huffing, June and Jiho share a look, maybe their manager drove them to the wrong place?

“Unnie,” June beams at the girl, shaking her arms towards the door, “say the magic words!”

Jiho bites back a laugh. “You know I haven’t seen Harry Potter ever in my life, dude.”

“I meant ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, you uncultured girl!” June crosses her arms in front of her chest, “didn’t you watch barney when you were a little girl?”

Before Jiho has the opportunity to reply to that, a loud sound startle the both of them, making the girls jump in unison and hold hands in case they had to make a run for their lives. (They’re okay, it was just the door opening)

“Ohh,” June raises both eyebrows, pulling Jiho with her so they can get in, “see? ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ are always the way in for every place you go, Kim Jiho.”

Jiho laughs. “Shut up, June.”

they finally arrive and again, just like zico and rain, you can hear the *dramatic gasps* from the other boys and the two girls there

this was literally the “i almost debuted” sub unit, experienced in survival shows. i’d be surprised too ngl

june goes :0 when she sees that ?? there’s a lot of boys here ?? and only,,, four girls

“did they tell you there were going to be more boys than girls?” june asks in a whisper and jiho just denies with her head

[sunoo: omg, i can’t believe they’re here]

[jaebeom: they’re prettier in real life]

[jay: they have more experience, so i’m looking forward their performance]

[jimin: their aura was definitely something else]

pls the /charismatic/ aura june exudes is gone after two seconds because she jumps all startled when the platform moves, making everyone go “she cute omg”

june wearing the biggest smile like

watch some of them simping already for her😌 the power she has

“Yo, Minjun,” June feels some nudging on her ribs, so she looks at where Jiho was pointing at with her head, making June let out a small gasp, “what? what’s wrong?”

“I know them!”

Jiho scoffs, “why am I not surprised?– No, wait, June!”

June doesn’t even listen to her older friend, instead, she drags her along to the other girls sitting there, a dark haired girl immediately standing up and running towards June to hug her.

After the brief introductions (that in Jiho’s words: “this was the longest greeting I’ve ever experienced in my life, Lee Minjun,” making June laugh and be like “okay I get it, you’re the biggest introvert I’ve ever met.”) the both girls finally walk away, Jiho lowkey smiling when June is still waving and bowing at everyone there.

Even if Jiho would never say it out loud, she really loved June and her cute, friendly antics.

She was such a nice person.

okay so june finds available spots next to a boy with a blue shirt and she walks there and goes !!!! HI HELLO NICE TO MEET YOU !!! can we sit here? and he just goes like /nervous laugh/ sure

ofc june and jiho feel all the staring but they’re too busy looking around to actually care jdlajsk

“you know, kim jiho, you could actually try to not have the ‘i hate it here’ face and make some friends”, jiho snorts at hearing that

“i have you for that; you’re the one making friends, i’m the one that follows you around. that’s how our friendship works”

june just laughs at that comment

Playing with the ring on her left hand, June keeps looking around the place in amusement, her stare staying focused on the bright red numbers displayed at one side of the space.

“13”

What did it mean? Would the other boys here know?

She turns her head to the left to ask, but instead, her lips curve into a smile again when her gaze meets with a pair of brown doe eyes attentively watching her.

“hi! i’m lee minjun, but you can call me june, nice to meet you!”, “i’m lee heeseung, nice to meet you too,” the boy pauses and then he goes “i, uhm, actually watched you on mixnine. so i’m really looking forward your performance”

june is so touched:’) and she’s like !!! omg thank you !!! i know everyone else here is talented so i’m looking forward to see you too !!

and pls😭 the “fear” the others had is gone because after that some more boys go “i was looking forward meeting someone like you, i watched you on mixnine” or “you’re really something else” introducing themselves and stuff

june is about to continue the conversation when /the light is gone/ and some red lights start blinking. june just thinks this is it, this is their end. they’re gonna get ‘k’ word JZKSJS😭

but happily for her and sadly for jiho, it’s just an introduction to the i-land system

— dear 27 applicants, welcome. this is the stage of iland, and this will be the place for you to prove your skills. past the gate, you’ll see the unknown place called i-land that only existed in our imaginations —

june can’t help but gasp all the time, she’s really so amazed like :00 how much money did they invest on this place dude

— however, not all 27 of you may enter. the capacity of i-land is only 13 people. —

june can hear jiho mutter ‘i knew this was too good to be true’ and she feels something inside her churn in anxiety

[june: i almost forgot this was a survival, either you fight for a place, or you stay out of the competition]

— the power to decide those 13 people is up to you and every destiny in i-land is upon your hands as well. now, we’re going to start the entry test with the performances you’ve prepared

jiho and june just look at each other, trying to decipher what the hell what’s going to happen … should they go first? should they decide to perform right in the middle? or just stand up last?

jiho knows june better, so even if her facade is a confident one, her eyes betray her; they’re full of hesitance, so she stretches a hand out at her so she can hold it

“junnie, we’ll go whenever you feel ready, okay?” and june just nods, squeezing her hand harder

— the entry test will be assessed by yourselves. only those with the majority of votes can go into the i-land. if there are more or less than 13 people after the test, there will be another test. —

— it’s a unit performance, but the votes will be done for each individual. the order of performance is up to you —

[june: i know everyone’s standards are high, so if i want to be in, i have to do my best on stage]

— the first participant, please move to the stage —

jiho looks at june expectantly, and when june denies with her head, she knows that her friend isn’t ready (tbh? no one was ready, not even the ‘experience’ their past survivals gave them. joining a new one was always a challenge)

[june: we’re 27 and there’s only 13 spots available. i have to watch everyone carefully, i’m not voting for everyone that stands on that stage, i have my own standards]

then, the first performance happens and… omg she’s like 😀😀 the entire time ‘lullaby’ is played and performed. jiho has the same expression too

LIKE. THE SAME EXPRESSION SUNOO HAD??? june was literally mirroring him 😭

pls june already sees the storm coming, people probably saying she’s too full of herself, but c’mon, everyone with a pair of eyes knows when a performance is good and when /it’s not/

if there’s something jiho and june share is: not giving in to peer pressure, so when they see everyone voting for seon because they feel pressured?? she’s like ??? bestie what are YOU doing??? where are your standards??? WHAT ABOUR YOUR TRAINING??? june might be excited over everything, but she knows where she stands when it comes to judging someone else based on their performances and skills🤝

[rain: oh, the only two that didn’t vote for the first contestant were jiho and june?]

[zico: they didn’t give in in what everyone else did… good]

june can’t help but laugh when she sees everyone almost running into each other to perform on stage after that😭 she like naaah not me, i can definitely wait

and just after, june gasps in a very excited manner when she hears the 7th sense, she’s the BIGGEST nctzen okay😭 she knows nct’s songs aren’t easy to cover so she’s like YOOOOO THIS IS GONNA BE GOOOOD

and it was good like ?? HELLO??? jayhoon’s the 7th sense’s performance is top tier 🥇

“now *this* is the kind of performance i’m expecting from everyone,” june mutters to jiho, the older one nodding. “true, they really killed it with this song”

watch june scream like WOOO when jay and hoon’s performance ends hdkaja, and ofc, she’s the first one to raise her hand to vote for the two of them😌

no because again, the sm stan in june jumps out again when she hears jopping like !! BESTIE THAT’S A BOP LETS GOOO !! she’s just rapping, dancing and singing along

she went ❗️❗️when she saw niki doing the dance break like ??? HELLO??? ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE 16??

“omg unnie! he’s so talented! they’re so good!”

watch her hype them up and go “LETS GOOOOO!” after they end their performance, making jiho and some other boys laugh😭

june votes for niki, and feels weird when hanbin gets dropped… what if.. that happens to her too?

“yah lee minjun, i know what you’re thinking, so stop that right now,” june pouts and jiho rolls her eyes, side hugging her.

when june sees heeseung standing up, she goes “fighting!!” and he smiles at her as a way to thank her

[june: i was really anticipating heeseung’s performance the most. i heard some of the trainees saying he was legendary, so i’m really excited to see him perform]

no need to say that june went OHHH when she heard boss😭 she was like NOOOO THERE’S NO WAY HE’S NOT GETTING IN?????

“LET’S GO LEE HEESEUNG!”, “june, stop screaming–“, “BUT DID YOU SEE HIM???

to say she was amazed, mesmerized, etc etc would be an understatement. she hyped him up so much pls, and ofc, she was one of the first persons to raise her hand to vote for him

“you looked so cool!!”, heeseung sits and smiles shyly at the excited girl. “ah, thank you so much,” and june claps in tiny😭 “i know why you get called the ace! you’re amazing!”

after that, she just votes for daniel because 🥺🥺 daniel

— I-LAND CAPACITY: 13. REMAINING SPOTS: 3 —

june wasn’t sure if she wanted to go next, but when the ‘3’ glares at her, there’s no hesitation in her body when she stands up and drags jiho along with her

“fighting!” heeseung is the one telling her now, jay and sunghoon also cheering for her. she gives them a small smile and starts walking away with her unit member

“june? isn’t this too abrupt?”, “i’m never going to be ready unnie, so let’s just get this over.”

[rain: oh? they’re going now!]

[zico: i’m really anticipating their performance]

jiho introduces herself first, and bang pd gives a brief introduction of the girl.

when it comes to june, she smiles brightly and bows, making some boys go like “cute🥺🥺”

[zico: she’s so cute]

[rain: june has really a very strong aura]

[bang sihyuk: when she first arrived, she was already good. so imagine how much she has improved]

“hello, i’m june! i’m 20 years old, i love dancing and singing, i used to practice fencing and even participated in both national and international competitions. please watch us well!”

[geonu: i’m looking forward their performances, specially from june since she was part of a debut lineup]

[heeseung: i think everyone was really looking forward to see june’s performance]

[jimin: there’s no way june isn’t getting in]

june gives a last glance to jiho, they nod at each other and the lights turn off.

everyone goes OHHH when baby don’t stop starts playing, jiho singing ten’s part while june was in charge of taeyong’s part

[daniel: look at june’s noona expressions!]

[sunghoon: she’s really good]

june looked so happy performing, her facial expressions and the energy. wouldn’t expect less from the ace herself😌

[rain: there’s something about june that makes her stand out from everyone else *zico nods*]

[zico: she has the facial expression of an already debuted idol, the energy she has is amazing]

[bang sihyuk: i told you she was something else]

the cheering was so loud, and jiho also couldn’t help but smile and side hug june. standing side to side, it’s when the voting finally starts. jiho gets in and june claps for her, she was so happy her friend was in.

— if you think participant june deserves to enter i-land, please raise your hands —

gulping down the anxiety bubbling in her chest, she just lowers her head and waits for the worst.

— participant lee minjun gets into i-land (24 votes) —

she gasps and bows a lot of times, holding jiho’s hand while she goes and sits again on their seats.

“we got in, junnie!” jiho exclaims and june exhales loudly, “i was about to throw up-“, “omg june thanks god you didn’t,” jiho starts laughing, making june laugh in the process too.

“hey, your performance was really good!” the boy beside her says, making her beam at him, “thank you heeseung!”

after that, the air gets more tense. there was only 1 spot remaining… and she remains on judging the others like she did with the past auditions

from the other unit of girls, only one of them got in.

june only voted for jungwon, jake and sunoo after her performance

“june noona?” she hears someone calling for her, turning she sees jake smiling, “thank you for voting for us, for real-“, “no, no need to thank me! you all did amazing, it was only fair!” she nods, giving him a thumbs up

she was happy they made it, but there was a more concerning topic clouding her mind

[june: -6… but what will happen? i’ve never felt this worried before in my life, do i have to compete again?]

— the entrance exam for i-land is over. those who have passed may enter the gate and proceed to i-land —

june goes all excited when she sees a door opening, but she can hear jiho muttering “this can’t be real, something bad is about to happen”

well,,,,, you might say: jiho was right, but june was too excited and positive to actually see it that way ASHDKSJD

taking her belongings and grabbing jiho’s hand, she stands up and goes towards nabi (who didn’t pass), holding jae’s hand so she wouldn’t walk alone

“please take care of her, junnie,” nabi says and june nods. “of course! i will watch jae unnie for you”

they laugh, jae intertwining her arm now with the youngest and walking all together to the i-land entrance

again, june giving the best reactions 😭 she was one of the first ones to go out and drag her two friends so they could explore the /expensive/ place they were seeing

[june: for real, i wanna know how much money got invested into this! (staff laughing in the background) i know you all are curious too!]

yeah, everything looked nice, but as jiho said: something bad was about to happen, so when that voice said “this is an accommodation for 13 people”, everyone knew things were about to go down

— so only 13 people can enjoy everything in i-land. starting now, in order to match the capacity of i-land, we will execute the next stage. —

— if you are not one of the 13 people, you will be released to the ground, the space of dropouts —

“the… ground?” jae asks, making jiho and june shrug at the same time. june wasn’t very sure of what was that, the only thing she knew was that it sounded really scary

“let’s try to stay together, okay?” jiho mutters to june, making her nod. june was starting to get anxious, another stage? the ground? everything was happening so quickly

— you will conduct another voting to decide on the six members to be eliminated. the elimination voting will proceed in 2 hours —

june scoffs, “just when i thought being on a survival where people votes for you was worse,” jiho hugs her, “whatever that happens, you have to debut junnie”

june frowns, “hey! wait! we have to debut together!” she pouts, hugging her.

“pinky promise, unnie?“ “yeah… pinky promise, minjun”

[freebooter4ever]

so i have a rant that's been boiling for a few days. yall know i have a silly crush on an artist in the same industry im in, so naturally im obsessed with all the wips and progress shots he posts. but recently he shared a sculpt that featured a female character with insane but sadly typical proportions. the character had that inescapable 3D "pretty girl" face shape, a waist smaller than her head, and breasts as large as her head.

i dont usually date in the industry and tbh this is partially why - so many men who are drawn to 3D in gaming have this imaginary idea of women fueled by cartoon images (or worse models and celebrities and influencers online who surgically alter themselves to fit caricatures of real life). so often i come across a man whose work i admire only to find out the rest of his art is just sculptures of big breasted tiny waisted women with same face syndrome everywhere. its like they are more in love with the concept of a beautiful sex object in a tower to be saved than interested in actual real life women who might have things like fat rolls.

this is why stuff like this:

makes me so angry. it's the gilmore girls problem all over again but twenty fucking years later and why havent we learned????

nobody eats junk food like the gilmore girls. both rory and lorelai are slender and fit but they eat nonstop, talk about eating all the time, dont consider nutrition or health at all, and act as if all this is totally normal. the excuse the writers gave is the exact same one the kpop dh writers gave: they want their special characters to be 'not like other girls'. its fake feminism in disguise. sure tell the next generation of little girls that they can eat a bunch of food like demon hunters do... but then design the female characters with impossibly small waists and perfect bodies. It sets up an unrealistic standard that is even worse than real life idols who at least tend to admit how carefully controlled their diet and fitness is to maintain the illusion of effortless perfection.

literally her thigh is the width of her waist. wtf. and when we compare the hunters to the fans in the movie, the fans are the only characters who are allowed to have different body types, but who are also colorless, dull, shapeless, and plain. no little girl is going to want to grow up to be a fan. in a movie that was trying to critique the obsession of perfection in idol culture, it really failed to actually push the boundaries and let the idols be anything less than perfect.

when i grew up watching movies with belle or jasmine or esmerelda, i was always disappointed that unlike these cartoons my body went straight up and down and i was never as delicate and dainty as these female drawings were. and i was a skinny kid!

i of all people should have felt represented by the skinny characters i saw on screen, but even i knew i wasn't the right kind of skinny. i still yearned to be delicate and beautiful like the caricatures of women drawn by men who were my childhood heroes. and no matter how much i grew taller my waist kept growing wider and was never as small as child me felt it 'should' have been.

my wish would be that the next generation of little girls wouldn't have to grow up with that kind of body caricature shoved in their faces... and yet its 2025 and we are still doing it. and its literally everywhere, you cant escape it as a woman. its why plastic surgery is starting to feel almost like a necessity if you want to actually 'fit in' or be a 'main' character in life instead of someone who just watches the rest of the world be cool.

why is it that when little girls are still young they are allowed to be goofy/silly/messy, but also are allowed to look goofy/silly/messy too:

but when they 'grow up' they all have to visually fit a specific mold so that male audiences will find them attractive.

im so bored of seeing animated women with the same face and body type over and over and over and over and over.....

[lovelyxhorrors]

"I know it's hard to believe. But we have a reputation for being crazies..or guess you already knew that." He chuckles a little, swirling a little in his bowl, fishing for any leftover noodles. "People wonder why a bunch of killers would have three pages of the book, right? None of us has the imagination to write a story or the guts to write without messing it up. The book itself has rules in place, don't it? As for the three pages? Think about it, people will kill each other before they try to kill us." He said. "That's how normal humans think. Once they think three pages aren't enough, along the way, with rules in place. They have to trample over each other. It's a trap in itself. Making our job easier. It's like...you have to make them think that they have a chance before snatching it away."

"Now..your last problem. Fyodor. Sure, I can leave him.. As much as I find him interesting, he kinda smells." He said. "He smells like he's rotting." He said with a shrug. "But at the same time, if you want, I can help keep track of his movements and update you. He's more dangerous alone because he will seek out and manipulate people who are easy to fall for him."

"So here's the thing. You're right but that's the point. You don't know about me and my group, I prefer people want to find out, but not from you." He chuckles, "It's better that way, so nobody goes to you about us. You only know me and Shrika, but the info you have so far is a little." He said. "And the chances of the page falling through anyone's hands. It won't happen. Not like in...10 years or 50 give or take." He said it with full confidence. "It might give you enough time to come up with a plan on how to seal the book away, making it impossible to find. But first thing you need to figure it out why the book exists in the first place." He said, now slurping the bowl. He goes to the second one, Dazai's bowl.

"But besides that..you should appericate your life a little more. You might not care about your life, but the people around you do care about you."

"As mentioned, no one is sure if that would happen or not. It is more of something you don't wanna chance. I don't want to tamper with something that can change reality and be the end of the world. While I do not value my life, I value other people's lives, and I do not wish for them to die.." Dazai pointed out.

Sure it could do nothing if destroyed, but what if it did something if destroyed? The Book is a huge mystery and Dazai did not wish to toy with such things like that. He thought it was best to leave hidden away, never found again...

Dazai closed his eyes, resting his chin on his palm, sighing softly. "You want the pages, but what if you fail and they fall into someone else's hands and it's used? I don't want to chance that either. I know very little of your group. I don't trust ANYONE with ANY pages, even if they do not want to do anything with it. Have it one's hands, it can go to someone else's hand. I do not even trust anyone in the Agency to have a page. Not that I don't trust they'd misuse it-- I don't trust they can keep it safe from other's hands..." Dazai said and opened his eyes to look at Matt.

"Do you understand what I mean? Even if a page is in capable hands, ones that won't use the pages itself, it can fall into the wrong hands, no matter how good of fighters your group is. I refuse to chance it..."

Dazai sighed as Matt spoke of problems on his side. "Honestly the only problem I have is for one thing-- being alive. And two-- Fyodor is the only thorn in my side. Has been for quite some time. I'll be more at peace when he's out of the picture. I came to you to try to get you out from under his thumb so you wouldn't fall victim to his games-- but I also did it since less people he has control of, the better..."