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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.7K]

THE TIMELINE

"There was something 'bout you that now I can't remember, It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender. And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning, I never know what to think about. I think about you."

- About You By The 1975

V. HAWKINS, INDIANA: 1988

Two years had passed since the last gate had closed and despite the aftermath of the “earthquakes,” Vecna had yet to make any sort of reappearance.

Max’s bones healed, eventually, and she regained most of her sight, relying on thick lensed glasses when she grew tired or the words in her books turned blurry. Nancy went to college, Jonathan tried it for a year, Hopper took El on a month-long camping trip to see something other than the town repairing itself and Lucas went to therapy.

Soon, each kid followed suit, attending sessions that eventually helped them sleep a little better because even though they couldn’t tell the person on the other side of the coffee table about monsters and the world under their feet, there had been enough death and suffering to fill the hour with regardless.

Dustin told Steve he should go too and Robin agreed. After Eddie’s funeral, the one where they all stood with Wayne, a guy from the garage Eddie worked at on weekends and the remaining Hellfire members beside a small gravestone, they had another one.

A second ceremony near the woods behind Eddie’s trailer, close to where he died, to where Dustin had found him bleeding and proud. The kids cried and Joyce held on tight to Will while Jonathan hugged Nancy and Dustin punched a tree trunk. It felt better than the first one, easier somehow, when they didn’t have to lie and hide the guilt they had at knowing each and every one of them felt a little shame in having a hand in someone’s else’s death.

But it was closure.

The town healed, roads were repaired, houses rebuilt, new flowers planted in the park in memory of those who had been lost in the accident - the natural disaster that made headlines, the one that no one could have predicted.

Steve helped Dustin clean Eddie’s grave when the spray paint covered the dead boy’s name. Robin stopped crying when she looked in the mirror each morning. Jonathan left his room.

The kids got better. They smiled more, went to the new arcade on opening day, shared slushies and rode their bikes around town again. Joyce visited Wayne when she could, took him pies and meatloaf and eventually got him out of his armchair and into a coffee shop for a full hour. Hopper got his job back, had a ceremony that preceded the funeral he had years before and Robin managed to get her and Steve a sweet gig at the record store that replaced Family Video.

It felt fresh. New. Clean.

So why was Steve still dreaming about gates?

For the third night in a row, he woke up gasping. A yell stuck in his throat that tasted like metal, like blood, and he was drenched. Shirtless, his sheets stuck to his chest, the weight of them tangled around his legs in a sickly familiar way, vines tugging at his ankles. His room was dark, the house empty, too quiet. Quiet enough that his breath ripped from his lungs in harsh pants, his head pounding from the exertion of running in his dream, back in a place that he hadn’t seen in almost twenty one months.

At first, he dreamt of death.

Of Eddie and how they found him lifeless and in Dustin’s arms. How Max was barely conscious in the attic of the Creel House, her body broken in ways that no doctor could understand. He dreamt of how he had pulled Lucas away from her, the boy sobbing and yelling, fighting with more strength than he knew he had as Steve tried to restrain him just enough for the paramedics to get Max into the ambulance.

Then the dreams turned empty. He dreamt of losing everyone, Robin, Dustin, Hop. El was gone, Will too, Mike nowhere to be found. Nancy’s house was empty, Joyce and Jonathan didn’t exist and Steve sat alone in a town that turned grey, crumbling to dust until the vines came back and the clouds turned red.

He ran miles every night, searching for his friends, his family. Woke up to shaking breaths and sore legs like he’d really sprinted across a town that was no longer home and each morning when the sun rose, he sat with a coffee and his bare legs dipped in the pool in his backyard. He stared at the water until the ripples blurred and wondered how long it would take for Barb to come haunt him too, if she’d reappear in his dreams despite the years that had gone by, if she’d come crawling back out of his pool like she used to, dripping wet and with no eyes.

But Barb never came and he stopped dreaming of the kids, stopped hearing Lucas’ screams, stopped seeing Max in a hospital bed with blood coming from her eyes and eventually, one night, he dreamt of a gate that he’d never seen before.

It didn’t even really look like a gate.

Not the ones Steve knew. It wasn’t framed by dead vines, it didn’t pulsate, it didn’t have a red glow coming from its innards. This one didn’t look like rotting flesh, like a wound in the earth that couldn’t be healed. This one wasn’t at the bottom of a lake, lined with wet moss and cracked rocks, it wasn’t in the Munson trailer nor in the middle of the woods.

This one opened on a blank wall in Steve’s bedroom, replacing the shelves where his old basketball trophies sat, where he usually left his pile of clothes before falling into bed. In the dream, it started as a crack, a crumbling of plaster and blue plaid wallpaper and Steve watched it open, a yawning thing that split the room and bathed it in light. It was too bright at first, like blinking into a summer sun. And once the white-hot of it cleared from Steve’s eyes, he saw blue skies and he could smell the ocean.

There were trees he’d never seen before in real life, something out of a movie, tall and green and narrow as they swayed in a breeze he couldn’t really feel from his spot on his bedroom carpet. The buildings were a pinky-peach colour, like clay, with orange slate tiles and there were foundations and statues carved into the walls, water trickling from the mouths of gods and vases that stone faced women held in their marble arms.

It was like looking at a painting, a canvas between his bed and his old desk, framed with olive branches and large, red fruits that protruded from the gates mouth.

Pomegranates.

Steve could smell them, a sweetness that mixed with the ocean air, a kind of freshness that you couldn’t find between the fields and farms that surrounded Hawkins. In the dream, he wanted to move closer but found that he couldn’t, his eyes wide and his bare feet rooted to the spot as he stared at the scene. It felt like a memory the more he looked, the buildings becoming familiar, a baby blue door that looked like somewhere he’d once owned the keys to and the cobbled streets became a well walked way home.

Then, as if he weren’t supposed to really see it, he spotted something move in an upstairs window. Two houses from the front of the gate, with rusted shutters and white linen curtains, he saw a girl stand between them.

A pretty girl, with eyes he knew he’d seen before, in a white dress that he was sure he remembered the feeling of.

The sight of her made Steve’s heart hammer, the dream making him dizzy, the realisation that he knew that girl making the line between unconsciousness and reality a little blurry. He didn’t know her name, or where he knew her from. He didn’t even know where he was looking or why the gate was there.

But he stared and stared until the girls eyes met his and before he could lift his hand, or even try to speak, there was a crack that seemingly came from the sky - the one above Hawkins or the one inside the gate, he didn’t know - but something flashed, the gate went dark and the rip in his bedroom wall stitched itself back up.

He woke up feeling like he’d remembered and forgotten something all at once. Like a book he’d read back in middle school, a photo he’d once misplaced, a song he hadn’t heard in years but still remebered some of the words too.

He knew her. He knew her.

Steve thought about the girl so much, so often, that it didn’t take him long to think of her, to refer to her, as you. You were someone he’d once known, from a memory or another dream, he wasn't sure. It was the same feeling as watching a movie and seeing a pretty actress on screen, in a different outfit with different hair but knowing her face and wondering what show he’d seen her in before.

Except with this, there was an aching want that buried itself in his chest at the sight of you, an awful feeling that grew larger each night. And every time his wall cracked open again, it seemed like his ribs did too. A crushing feeling, a yawning expanse inside his body that made room for the way his heart seemed to grow and grow at the sight of you.

Yearning, that’s what he thought it was. A slow, burning build of it.

The second night, he dreamt of you in a garden. A sprawling, green lawn with a pond so green-blue it made his eyes hurt. There was an awning beside it, a pergola of sorts made of white stone and it had ivy growing between the pillars, covering the roof and reaching down to trail its flowers in the water below. You were closer than before, than you were in the window, and Steve could see the way your lashes hit your cheeks as you looked down, stitching something that you held in your lap.

There was a wicker basket beside you, a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth and he could still smell pomegranates, sweet and tart. There was a space beside you on the blanket, enough room for two but no one else came.

You were always alone.

Steve tried to talk to you, to reach out and see if this gate worked like the others, if he could walk through into this other world, this other dimension, but it didn’t work.

Not yet, anyway.

You seemed to notice him more on the fifth night, as he watched you walk along the edge of a lake. Your hair was shorter now and your clothes had changed. They look more modern, more like his, the cabins behind you reminiscent of a summer camp, a holiday lodge or something. He could hear music, a song he swore he heard on the radio not too long ago and that night, you watched him back.

It seemed like you were waiting for someone. And when Steve saw your face light up with a smile, his heart stumbled. You raised your arm, reaching out a hand to the edge of the gate, off to the side as if someone else was in Steve’s walls. He saw another hand reach for yours, larger, definitely male, with a freckle where the thumb joined the palm.

The jealousy he felt was unmatched, a burning thing that scorched his chest and his throat, hot needles at the back of his mouth. Before the man came into view, the crack in his wall trembled and the gate stitched itself closed once more, leaving plaster dust and flakes of paint on his carpet.

Apart from the small mess, no one would have ever guessed another world opened up inside of Steve Harrington’s bedroom each night.

It took him a week and half to notice his hand had a freckle in the same spot. A small beauty mark he’d never really paid attention to before, painted in the space that joined his thumb to his hand. He tried not to read too much into it, tried not to hold onto the hope that maybe it meant something - because none of this made sense, not really.

They were just dreams. Strange things, brain scrambling things. But it was a welcome reprieve from death and darkness and vines that held onto him too tight. He no longer woke up in a cold sweat, he no longer wished for morning to come, no matter how tired he felt when he opened his eyes.

Steve wondered if anyone else was experiencing these kinds of dreams. If the rest of the party were getting glimpses of other worlds, other timelines. He wasn’t sure what they were, too scared to ask, too afraid to make everyone else worry. The thought that these dreams could be a trick crossed his mind more than once, a new tactic from Vecna, an infiltration of his sleep that was meant to lull him into some kind of false sense of security.

Safety - an unknown feeling.

But everyone else spent their days talking about school and their new bosses, the fair that was coming to town to celebrate the town hall finally being rebuilt. No one mentioned Vecna or dreams or gates or girls they knew from somewhere they couldn’t place.

So Steve accepted the fact that whatever these dreams were - whatever they meant - they were just for him. Which meant that you were his too.

Weeks went by with Steve viewing you from the split in his wall, sometimes hearing music, sometimes hearing your muffled voice. Never real words, never loud enough to hear and it didn’t seem like you could hear him either. But Steve watched, enraptured, following you around different parts of the world, new countries and scenes that he could never really place but, oh my god, each one felt like home with you in it.

Then one night, he saw himself.

He felt the surge of panic flood him even in his sleep, his body jolting against his bed as he saw the familiar face, staring back at him, nonplussed. He looked a little different, maybe older. His hair was shorter at the back, cropped closer to the nape of his neck but the biggest difference was how happy he looked.

This Steve, the one in his dream, inside this gate - this Steve from another time, another life - he looked lighter. He didn’t have purple smudges under his eyes, no deep lines settling across his forehead from frowning so much. His clothes were different too, looser, less fitting, the colours more muted. He wore a pair of jeans that looked much more comfortable than his tight Levi’s, a soft burgundy sweater that had the sleeves rolled up.

Steve didn’t recognise where this dream took place, but he knew it wasn’t Hawkins. America, yeah, the street signs and licence plates on the cars in the street giving that detail away, but he wasn’t too sure where. The buildings were bigger, shinier, more glass than brick but the skies were still blue and it looked peaceful, warm.

Safe.

Dream Steve strolled down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking back over his shoulder every now and then as if to make sure the real Steve was following him. He walked past storefronts and stopped to pet a dog, a golden retriever who was waiting for his owner outside of a bakery. When he came to a bookstore, Steve could see a large building in the distance, a huge billboard atop it that looked like it was advertising a new movie, or a show maybe. It didn’t have much details on it, no actors nor dates to tell what year this was supposed to be.

Certainly not 1988.

It only had lettering across it, big and bold and red against a pristine white background: “ANOTHER LIFE.”

The bell to the bookstore jingled and then Steve saw you. As pretty as you had been in every other gate, every other world, every other lifetime. Like a figurine inside a snow globe, like something from a fairytale. Steve had never seen you this close before.

He watched your smile, the way it widened at the sight of his counterpart, this other version of him. You were so pretty that his breath got caught in his lungs, his sleeping body kicking out in shock when you lunged at the dream version of him, throwing your arms around his shoulders in greeting.

Steve watched the two figures embrace on the street, he watched how this luckier man got to bring his hand to your cheek and hold to there to kiss, how his lips - Steve’s own lips - met your own and parted them, mouths melting together in something that was so much more than a quick hello.

Steve didn’t have it in him to feel jealous then. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He watched the hand that held your jaw, the thumb that caressed your cheekbone as you grinned into him, your own hands clutching his waist now. There was a freckle, the same as the one he had on his own hand, in the matching spot on yours. This Steve took that hand and kissed that very mark, smacking kisses across your palm and up your wrist until you were laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.

Steve hadn’t seen anything so happy.

He woke up before the dream finished, before the gate closed. Steve woke up with tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, his vision blurry in the navy gloom of his bedroom. It wasn’t yet morning. There was no gate on his bedroom fall, no new city between the plaid striped wallpaper.

He thought it could’ve been Chicago, maybe New York. Perhaps Philadelphia.

He wondered if he left and went looking for that bookstore, that street, that billboard, he’d find you too. If he was supposed to, if you were real, if this life was all he was supposed to get.

Something told him otherwise, that open crack inside his chest that made him ache for hours after he awoke. He never forgot about you during the day, each life he’d watched you live, how you had grown your hair out and then cut it, how you seemed to change your clothing depending on where you were, from old petticoats to jeans and shirts with logos on them he’d never seen before.

Steve felt like he’d lived a thousand lives with you.

He wasn’t sure what he had to do to get you in this one.

After two weeks of dreaming of this life with you, one that he was so sure would happen, he spoke to Joyce. He waited until the kids dragged Hopper out into the yard to help them with some sort of rocket they wanted to make and he found her in the kitchen. It was the closest kind of feeling he had to home - bar from the sight of you, but he wasn’t really sure if that counted when he was asleep.

So he tried to sound casual when he leaned over the Byers kitchen counter, elbows avoiding the jelly stains that Mike had left after making a sandwich, and asked, “hey, uh, do you believe in soulmates?”

Joyce blinked at him, flour and butter between her fingers as she tried to turn the page in her recipe book back to the instructions for apple pie. The book flopped shut when she let go, her hands reaching for a rag instead. Her eyes never left Steve’s.

“Uh, well. I guess so,” she paused, head tilted to the side as she watched the younger man, how his cheeks turned pink and his gaze fell to the floor. “I haven’t thought about it all that much. Why’d you ask?”

Steve didn’t know what to say then. So he floundered, flushed in the face and nose scrunched as he ran his fingers through his hair too harshly, hoping that no one else walked in. What was he supposed to say? That he was dreaming of gates in his bedroom walls? But it was okay? ‘Cause these ones didn’t have monsters or creatures set out to kill him, no, these gates held something that he thought he’d once had, that they held something he was so sure he was supposed ot have again?

Maybe, just not in this life.

Maybe, this time, something was broken. Wires were crossed, cut, unravelled. Maybe the upside down messed up a timeline, maybe it ripped apart whatever plan it had originally laid out for Steve Harrington.

He didn’t know. But he knew it sounded crazy, even in his head.

So he shrugged and said, “no reason.”

And then that night, after Joyce gave him funny looks over the dinner she served him and the rest of his friends, the kitchen table full, he went home and lay on his bed, hardly bothering to pull the sheets over his bare chest.

He counted his breaths, hoped for sleep and wished for you.

Like always, his room grew darker, his lids heavier and the crack in his bedroom wall crumbled and split until the dust settled and he saw your face. You were alone this time, pretty as ever and in the same looking city he’d last seen himself in. The skies were blue behind you, the buildings still tall and shiny looking, all glass window panes and metal framework. If he concentrated enough, he could smell summer.

Hot tarmac and sunscreen, fresh fruit from one of the stores behind you, tart lemons and freshly ground coffee.

You were looking right at him and even in his sleep, Steve smiled. Your eyes were pretty, too pretty, the colour bright and your gaze excited as you gazed at him. Like you’d been waiting. You held out a hand, coaxing, kind, soft, patient. And for the first time, when Steve reached out too, his hand slipped through the gate.

He was right, about the season, about it being summer. The air inside this world was warm on his skin, like the sun was on him despite being sprawled out in the blue gloom of his dark bedroom. It felt like a July morning, right before the heat hit.

He was almost touching your fingers when he woke up alone again.

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osarina · 7 months

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ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place.

For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.

“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?”

“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with.

“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”

“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”

“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry.

You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?”

“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”

“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly.

“I’ll-”

Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head.

He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”

You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?

“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off.

Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”

You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up.

Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”

You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now?

“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.

“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”

“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him.

Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take.

“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”

Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.

You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”

“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”

“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed.

Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street.

“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”

You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.

“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”

Instead of trying to kill yourself.

“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”

“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.

His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.

You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.

Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!”

“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain—I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?”

You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest.

“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”

His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.

“I-”

You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.

“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”

And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.

You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.

“So,” he says, “about that date?”

“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”

You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”

Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him.

“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”

Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”

“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him.

He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place

Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down.

“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.

“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?”

“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”

Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.

“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”

Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic.

“Oh god, we have to-”

You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.

He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours.

“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”

Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”

“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”

The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.

“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?”

You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.

You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.

You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.

“Never again.”

Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.

“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.

“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”

“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly.

“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”

Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”

“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining.

“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”

“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall.

Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly.

Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.

Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile.

“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”

Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.

“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”

Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”

Dazai looks thoroughly offended.

“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."

Dazai gasps.

Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”

You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair.

You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”

Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”

You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”

You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”

Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”

Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”

Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.

“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint.

“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”

Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”

“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida.

“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile.

“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”

You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”

“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”

Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.

“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.

“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm.

He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay.

He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you.

“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him.

It is.

“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair.

You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.

You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand.

“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?”

There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.

You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later.

Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”

Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”

Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall.

“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost.

“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”

“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”

He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency.

“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”

“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”

“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on.

You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist.

“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”

“Stop.”

Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again.

“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”

“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.

“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.

“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.”

Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.

“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.

Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile.

Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down.

He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this.

“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”

He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.

So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off.

Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy.

Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity.

But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.

You consider it a win.

Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble.

His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?

And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter.

But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.

When did he start to…

He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved.

Not for who he is.

Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-

“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?”

Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having.

“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”

“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”

Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it.

He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”

Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.

The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.

When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-

Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you.

Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly.

“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.”

Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.

Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.

Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.

Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this.

Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him.

Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights.

“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”

“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”

The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut.

The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away.

You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.

You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”

Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”

The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless.

“Deal.”

#dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 11 months

Text

Vodka Slime

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.7k

summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.

Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!

p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)

taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

You kinda wish you had stayed at home.

You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.

If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with.

You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.

“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”

“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.

And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.

Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.

“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”

The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.

“That, I can definitely do.”

"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."

You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead."

"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.

"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.

"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles.

"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"

"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

"What?"

"That's my name, doll."

"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."

“So I’ve been told before.”

“By other girls, I suppose?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”

“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.

“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”

“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.

“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Cliché.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.

“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.

“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”

Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”

“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”

“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”

“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”

“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”

You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.

Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.

Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.

“I have one question.”

“Fire away, doll.”

“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."

He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."

"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.

"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."

Boy, he's in for a treat.

"That's a nice setup you have here."

"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.

"Are you a streamer?"

"Hmm, not really."

"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.

"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.

"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."

"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"

"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"

You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."

You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?"

He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso.

The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.

"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!"

"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"

You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!"

"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."

"I- I just-"

"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."

"W-Wait! I, um-"

"Take your time, Y/N."

"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."

Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.

"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."

"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.

"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"

"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea."

"I thought you weren't into that thing?"

"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."

He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.

"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.

He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little."

Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.

“Fuck you, I liked that top!”

“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."

"It's called easy access, himbo."

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.

"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."

"Do your worst, Kraken."

The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.

"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that."

The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.

"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.

"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.

"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.

Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.

"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart."

"And w-what about it?"

You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.

“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”

“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.

“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.

A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.

The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.

“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”

“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”

“That’s different!” You protest.

“Different how?”

You purse your lips.

“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.

“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”

You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.

“The skirt stays on.”

“It could get in the way, though.”

“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”

“What do you have in mind, doll?”

“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”

Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.

“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”

“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.

Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.

“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.

“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”

His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.

You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.

“Not so snarky now, are you?”

“M-More…”

“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”

“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.

“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”

He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.

“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.

“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.

“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.

“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.

“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.

He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt.

“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”

You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.

“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”

“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”

“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.

“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”

“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”

Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.

You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”

“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”

“And why is that?”

He smirks again.

“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw alcohol #tw tentacles #tw monsterfucking

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edenesth · 8 months

Text

The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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domreaderheadcannonscenarios · 3 months

Note

(I don't know if this is considered to be a noncon but if it is, you can either delete this or informed me so I can rearrange something. I'm gonna tag this a one anyway)

CW: NON CON I think

since we now know that the Chasity belt's purpose, other than to show their devotion to god, but to keep them 'pure' in someway, aka from lust, I've been thinking....

After we manage to remove the belt, this make them prone towards the lust, and since they are a supernatural beings, they will started to gain HEAT CYCLE (let's make every non-human character go through heat, tht thought has been rotting in my mind🫣)

And since, in some way, they're 'innocent', They probably don't know what's truly going on into their body. Might even think that this is another challenge god gave them to pass. So who will they got through?

You, of course!

Imagine waking up in a middle night to see a figure on top of you, humping on your leg or kneeling on the floor with their head resting on your feet. Legs shaking and hips becoming jittery as they whimper 'help'. You can't see much as the room is still and so the person, but you can feel something wet patching on your covers.

Alright bye 🏃

WAIT CONE BACK- (YES ALL NON HUMANS NEED HEAT CYCLES—)

This is so good!! I love it so much!! Just so perfect! (also I slow dubcon, noncon esk stuff!)

It would make sense as to why they’d ‘need’ to stay locked in a cage to surpress desires, as once introduced there’s no undoing it. Once their heat cycle starts, there’s no undoing it, they are left suffering as no angel would know/be able to help their blight.

Then they realize you stirred maybe more than they were ready for, you have done what only their god could, and they are left trembling as they hunt you down and by the time they actually find you, you’re asleep in bed. They cant wait for you to wake up, who knows how long that’ll take?!! They need your help now!

They manage to get in without alerting anyone (even you) and they are in agony and don’t even know HOW to approach you for this. Is this a challenge like before? Should they plead or threaten for help? Should they even wake you..

Cw (all): Dubcon, heat cycles,

Gabriel

There’s something about seeing you sleeping peacefully that has his heart fluttering and he quickly approaches your figure, he’s trying to think how to wake you, but with the consistent ache from his cock he can’t think clearly. All he can think about is touching himself, grinding against whatever until the ache between his legs stops.

Before he makes it to your bed his knees gave out and he’s left kneeling near the edge of your bed. He’s groping himself as he lifts himself up enough to lean over your bed. He groans upon feeling his arousal brush against your bed, but the little friction he gets has him unable to think straight and he bucks against your bed’s edge.

Even as he hears the bed squeaking, watching you sleep, he cant help himself. It feels so good, you look so good…his heart aches as he once again deluded himself with your image matching his God…he goes faster, loudly moaning out praise for you.

You had started waking up to your bed shaking, you opened your eyes to see it’s still pitch black and as you turn you can see a man’s silhouette at the edge of your bed….humping it. This is Hell but…you haven’t had this issue yet.

“Satan?” You ask curiously, the individual instantly freezes, you lean down to grab him but as you get closer you freeze, actually seeing his face. “Gabriel!” You jumped back and hit the headboard. You knew he was probably pissed over the getting jerked off in public…but to hump your bed? Angels were weird.

“My Lord, I-I need you s-so badly, please!” He whined out as soon he realized you were awake and aware of him. He tugged on your blankets and climbed on the bed before you could react. “What you did before-again? P-please?” He grabbed your hand and shoved it between his legs so you could feel the swollen organ.

He mewled in bliss at just the thought that you’d ‘service’ him again. But you try to move away. “You came to Hell…for a handjob? Isn’t that dangerous?” He groans in response and rubs himself while waiting for you to help.

“H-hurts…won’t go down no matter how much it leaks, touching it isn’t enough…” You stared at him before reaching for the appendage, it jumps as soon as you make contact with it, it’s definitely engourged enough to cause some kind of pain to him. On impulse you squeeze it and to your amusement, pre bubbles were the swollen head of his cock rest.

Gabriel whimpered and bucked into your hand with a gasp. “You are really needy…” You are beginning to understand what’s wrong. “Oh you poor thing…you’re in heat…” You laugh a bit thinking how he’s a ‘pure’ being that now is blighted with a heat cycle. Angels weren’t supposed to have sex, so you supposed this is god’s punishment for his first orgasm.

Him wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him as he tries to grind against you. “D-do what you did before, d-damit! Touch it pllease!” He sobbed out, humping your hand desperately. Your own body was getting excited watching an angel humiliate himself for scraps of pleasure without hesitation. “You’re blessed, I need you! You’re all I can think of…”

You could see the same look in his eyes as you saw in the bar, when he was deluding himself into believing…that you’re his Lord…you don’t think now is a good time to correct him when he’s so hard he’s trembling in front of you.

You lazily grab his swollen cock and gave it a hard yank to force him into your lap. That should have hurt, but he mewls and a copious amount of pre spills onto your stomach. You think about punishing him but the sob he lets out upon you pinching his cock is a few pitches too high for your liking. “Oh, you’re more sensitive than I remembered.”

You didn’t mean it to insult him, but it seemed to have a effect as he bucks towards and drags his cock on your stomach as he lets out pathetic cries. You reach to stop him, but he freezes on his own and raises his hips off you. “I’m sorry!” He whines. “I, do as you wish to me just please, please help with…” He whimpered as you were left barely able to see as he’s kneeling above you with his cock hanging noticeably slick with its on pre.

The wet heat between your legs spikes at the realization he had stripped in the excitement and was now presenting his manhood as a form of submission. You force him to sit in your lap as you flip the position so he’s now on his back. You grab his cock and tug on it, not even trying to ease him into a pace as you stroke his sensitive dick as fast and roughly as you could.

He nearly screams in what you can imagine is confusion as he trembles under you, maybe on your tenth stroke, he yelps and he’s cumming in your hands, hard.

Out of mercy your hand doesn’t stop. Even as he trembles and whimpers for mercy. His cock doesn’t soften, but you catch on that he’s getting sensitive. You stop stroking him and rub just the head as he sobs under you and writhes against the bed as his cock is worked into overstimulation while still needing more.

Michael

He was able to sneak into your room with ease, he’s taken aback as he sees you sprawled out in bed. His arousal stiffens more at the sight, and as he gets closer, your scent makes his pants feel tighter. He gets into your bed to admire you, he didn’t mean to wake you, he just couldn’t wait!

Not when his poor balls might burst if he cant empty them soon…He hadn’t felt like they had weight until now, but now he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get to finish soon! But…he cant touch himself, he needs you!

He ment to wait until you awoke to help him but instead…he was left panting and he ground himself against your thigh, tears running down his face of humiliation and frustration as his cock barely gets any friction. He mewled while watching you stir in your sleep, he is taken aback when you press against him with your thigh and his aching bits randomly getting added friction has him jump.

The mewl that escapes him gets your attention, you nearly thud your thigh between his legs before he quickly moves back realizing you’re waking up. He tries to hide the clear boner between his legs by bringing his thighs up protectively.

He felt humiliated that he just woke you…to him dragging his privates over your leg like a dog….

You start to get up and look around, locking eyes with him. In the darkness you don’t recognize him. “Hey…were you…grinding against me?” You’re honestly more tired than mad.

“I’m sorry Master.” He breathes out fast. He sees your face tense up upon hearing his voice. “I’m…in need of you, please take mercy upon me.” He crawled over to you and laid next to you, just close enough to be able to see his face in the dark. “Im sorry to ask this, but…what you did at the auction house…can we do it again?”

You blink in confusion. “You want me to bring you back there for that?” You were half asleep and not quite sure if he was being serious but you could feel him cock hard and resting against your leg.

“No!” He quickly jumps. “I m-mean I want you to…caress me the way you did,…touch me where I’m…‘unfamiliar with’.” He nuzzles into your shoulder and dampening your clothes. You wrap an arm around him on impulse upon noticing he’s crying. You partially recognize it might be since he just…doesn’t stop crying.

Still you pull him down on the bed, a hand slipped down to pull his cock out, feeling the heat radiating off it as you start feeling it up, trying to remember the spots he liked. “Like this?” He nods. “Alright…” Still half asleep you gently rub and stroke him and to your surprise, the light touch has him trembling. “You look like you need more…” Your grip on his cock tightens.

He tensed and you adjusted, you stroked faster and he visibly tenses trying to stay still as his body trembled as the pleasure hit him harder than he was ready for. His pre leaked like a fountain as you twisted your wrist on the swollen head.

After you applied pressure to the slit, he jumps and bucks forwards, unable to stop himself as he whimpers. “My Lord…I’m going to…burst…” He thrust forwards with every stroke, you can feel the pulsing between his legs worsen until he pulses out cum into your hand, it was an impressive amount. It splattered over his on stomach as you kept stroking him.

You felt his cock remain harass even as you don’t slow down. Michael whimpers, the heat between his legs worsening with every stroke. “You are really excited, maybe…” You bite your lip and lean down, licking he’s base. You feel it pulse again and the angel moans loudly.

He climaxed again…you grin realizing he’s experiencing his first heat.

At your mercy…

Raphael

Cw: leg humping, scent kink

Raphael had barely managed to sneak into your room unnoticed and without breaking things. (Thought it was tempting.) His mind was still foggy as he laid eyes on you, he could feel the ache between his legs worsen…he needs you now!

He growls and jumps onto your bed, the weight and force startling you awake.

You look to the source of what woke you, Raphael’s face was inches from yours as he seats himself in your lap.

“Satan! I thought I locked the door, let me sleep!” You laugh out, unable to see the persons face, but Satan is the only person you knew who’d jump onto you or go out of his way to get into your room like this.

Raphael tries to not show his pause as he takes your hand and without hesitation forces it between his legs, he felt you lightly brush against his clothed arousal, earning a moan. He felt you tense up and whined, knowing he’s been caught, his voice isn’t close to Satan’s Afterall…

“W-wait who..?” You try pull away and he flops ontop of you to stop the inevitable attempt to run, he groans and begins grinding against you, and with your struggling to get away, to your confusion the ‘stranger’ is now jumping your leg.

Raphael on freezes when you manage to reach over and turn on the lamp. His heart sinks at the look you give him, he knows he’s in the wrong, but you did cause this, so it’s only fair you handle it!

…right?

Even with the blinding ache between his legs he slows down and swallows, trying to ‘clear’ his throat to talk to you. “You…did this, fix it! What you did before I need again! It wasn’t enough!”

He tries to act assertive even as his face flushed and he resumes jumping your leg as if that’s all he knows how to do to bring himself pleasure. He closes his eyes as he thrust against your leg for stimulation.

“I…you’ve been hard since Christmas?” You ask, but he shakes his head, you watch as he speeds up only to cum onto your leg, dragging his cock against your leg as he finishes, while you expect it to stop you realize he’s remaining hard. “Oh….oh! You poor thing!”

You laughed out as you quickly pull your leg away, he’s sloppy and can’t catch you, he flops onto your bed, where you were, he groans as he looks up to you and notices you walking around, but…your scent…is making him dizzy. He whines, sniffing your blankets…he’s begging you to understand why that greedy king likes to scent so much…your scent is so intoxicating like it’s on aphrodisiac…

You watch the angel roll around on your bed, still hard, his clothes barely covering anything it seems like he tried to toss aside his clothes earlier but couldn’t wait long enough to strip completely. You know what is happening…

“Your first heat…you have no experience so you came to me.” You say in a pitiful tone as you watch the angel rub against your bed to get your scent on him like a dog trying to scratch its back. You’d be laughing if you weren’t so tired and confused.

The angel moans as you acknowledge him, he doesn’t stop, but rolls onto his back to look at you. “Please just…help?” He huffed out.

#nsft #whb #what in hell is bad #whb raphael #raphael #raphael x reader #michael x reader #Michael #whb michael #gabriel x reader #gabriel #sub gabriel #sub raphael #sub Michael #heat cycles #scent kink

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the-bitter-ocean · 2 months

Text

(ACT 3 SPOILERS) Hi everyone! I Wanted to post writing I did for @tealgoat In tales of time au!! For context it’s set around act 3, where Odile reached the end for the first time with a family run. The art I used in this post is made by teal and you can find the links to those drawings individually over here and here! Writing is under the cut:

< You’re here again. >

< But something feels different. >

< You managed to beat the king like always… but this time..>

< This time you had the courage to call your companions your family. >

< You got to understand all of them a little better and in turn that made you all grow closer. >

< Is that what you needed? Is that the solution to the problem? >

< You didn’t think that helping them would amount to anything much, but the story’s outcome changed a little didn’t it? >

< Even if it was small.. you know how important it is. >

< Your father used to tell you that rereading a story allows you to see details you may have not noticed on a first pass. >

< That it can your change your entire perception of the story itself, even. >

< Is this what you needed all along? >

< He used to read you stories like that all the time. >

< Fairytales about love and friendship saving the world. >

< It gave you comfort then.. and it seems it’s giving you comfort now. >

< You’ve talked to everyone.. they all said different lines then the ones you’re used to.>

< With that logic in mind.. then it should be obvious that the Head Housemaiden should say something different. >

=> < Talk to her. >

=> < Don’t talk to her yet.>

=> < Talk to her.>

< You’ve said everything you needed to say to your companions. >

< It’s time for the moment of truth. >

< You approach the Head Housemaiden and greet her. >

< “Hello!” >

< The head Housemaiden smiles at you and waves. >

((“Hello traveling one! Are you done talking to your companions? Yes, wonderful wonderful-“))

< ….?>

((“ I’d like to thank you for accompanying young Mirabelle on the journey. You have my gratitude.”))

((“ Odile, yes? If there’s anything I can do to thank you, please don’t hesitate to let me know!”))

<….?!>

((“I know you will go back on your travels soon but I do hope-”))

<…>

<…… Ah. >

< Of course. >

((“ Just know that no matter what that Dormont will always be open to you! Please come back any…time….”))

((“…!!!! Oh… oh no no no.. oh nonono-“))

< Ahahaha…!>

< You should’ve expected this. >

< Why would whatever happened before change the story’s ending now? >

< Just because you felt loved and safe? Stupid stupid stupid- you should’ve known better! Why did you decide to rely on how you felt instead of looking at the reality of the situation you’re in? >

< You try to breathe. >

((“ Oh Odile! I’m so sorry..!”))

< It’s fine. It’s just the end again. It’s the same. >

((“ I’m so sorry..there’s no way we can stop it now!” ))

< You’ll just be..>

((“- going back! Back when everything started!”))

< You know her lines by heart, now. >

< If you know what happens next…then you can always know how to react and never be disappointed.>

< You’re fine. >

< You’re…>

<| “…? Odile?” |>

<| “Is everything okay?”|>

< You turn your head and look in Siffrin’s direction. >

< He’s staring right at you. >

< You can’t shift your expression fast enough. >

<| “ Odile what’s wrong- “|>

{“ Head Housemaiden, is something the matter?” }

((“ I cant fix it on my own, not before it all ends… if only I noticed it all sooner!”))

[“Huh? What’s happening? ]

(“ Dile?”)

< You can’t move. >

< You’re frozen. >

{ “Madame, what’s-Urgh!”}

[“ Is something happening? The air around us.. it feels like.. AGH!” ]

(“ My head hurts!!!”)

((“ It’s my fault you have to suffer like this…”))

<| “ODILE!!!”|>

[“ M’DAME!!!”]

< They’re all running, reaching towards you..>

(“ Dile come back! Somethings wrong!!!”)

< You have to move. >

{“ MADAME ODILE!!!!”}

< Maybe you can catch Isabeau’s hand if you reach out to him. >

((“I just hope that one day..”))

< You slowly hold your hand out for him to hold. >

< You take a step forward. >

((“ You could learn to forgive-“))

< And you- >

__________________________________________________________

< You’re back in the store once more. >

< You grip unto the shelf and take a deep breath. >

< Foolish. >

< You press your fingers against the bridge of your nose and adjust your glasses. >

< You laugh quietly as you can. >

< You truly believed this could work, didn’t you?>

< You really thought helping them all would be the key to your escape! >

< That if you helped them, if you were loved, then surely it had to free you, right? >

< Hahahahaha! >

< That was awfully childish of you! >

< They loved you but it’s not enough to save you! >

< And why would it? When has anything ever been that simple for you? >

< You should know better. >

< Everything was reset back to the beginning. >

< Any character development reversed and undone. As if it never happened at all. >

< Mirabelle is back to feeling out of place because of her identity. >

< Isabeau is still hiding everything about himself, pretending to be something he’s not. >

< Boniface is back to feeling like they’re useless and that they don’t contribute enough to the rest of you. >

< Siffrin won't remember the times you spent together.. back to being scared of you..! >

< And you're back here.. again.. and again .. and again! >

< That's what you get for hoping! That's what you deserve, for being so blinding incompetent and - >

< You slowly look up and glance at the clock. >

< Siffrin will enter the shop soon, won't he? >

<…>

< You need to cut this spiral of yours short then. That’s fine, it’s not like crying ever did you any favors.>

< Focus on the present. >

< All you can do is try something else now.>

< You owe it to everyone to keep going. >

< The story isn’t over for you yet. >

| You got a MEMORY OF FAMILY! |

< You'll always remember this. >

| When equipped, Memory of Family doubles everyone's EXP gained in battle, except for yours. |

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absurdthirst · 2 months

Note

I know that a/b/o isn't everybody's cup of tea, but... maybe headcanons about (alpha) Pedro boys getting home from work and finding omega reader in heat? Pretty please?

Coming Home to Find You In Heat:

*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: There isn't a day that Javier doesn't come home thinking about fucking you. It's programmed into his DNA. However, the second he hits the door, he smells it. The intoxicating scent of your pheromones filling the house. Second only to the scent of your cum on his cock as his favorite. His entire body is throbbing as he calls your name. Walking through the door to see you whimpering his name with the toy you have buzzing between your legs. "Oh 'mega." He groans, ripping off the suit jacket and tossing it aside. "Don't stop. I'll be inside you soon enough. Let me get undressed."

Ezra: He isn't even aware that you are in heat until he removes the sealed helmet from his head. You had stayed in the tent because you weren't feeling well, so Ezra had decided to dig by himself. Coming back earlier than normal so he can check on you, he had decontaminated and had just unsealed his helmet when that intoxicating aroma fills his nostrils. "Kevva." He groans, eyes darkening as you sweat and suffer. "Little gem, you should have let me know of your plight far before now." He hums as he starts to strip himself of his suit. "It my humblest undertaking as your alpha to see to your comfort during the trying times of the burden of your nature." He is practically panting already, thinking of the ways he will take you and make sure you are knotted properly. "Push two fingers inside that deprived pussy, gem. Gratify yourself until I can accommodate you suitably with my cock."

Mando: He immediately sets a course for a hospitable planet, one he knows will be safe for you and the kid. He knows that he will be get very little sleep over the next few days, making sure the kid is taken care of and out of trouble as well as taking care of you. The little sleeping nook isn't big enough for your nest, so he moves containers and crates to create a private area for you to build a nest with the blankets and padding he has on hand. As soon as he has landed, the safety protocols for the ship are engaged and he has every light turned off, plunging it into darkness so he can remove his armor and helmet. "Don't worry, cyarika." His unmodulated voice is warm as he reaches for you. "You will be crying in pleasure soon."

Frankie Morales: Heats after kids is difficult. He knows you are in pain and suffering so he calls his mom, begging her to take the kids. He has to give you a quick orgasm on his fingers before he takes them over to her, so desperate to feel your alpha that it makes him a little bigheaded. He's stopping by the pizza place to grab some food to make it easy for you as well. His weekend get together plans with the boys are cancelled, he has more important things to do, like you.

Pero Tovar: You think that this man isn't going to smell you the second he stops his horse? Think again. The smell of your need calls to him and he is rushing through bedding down his horse and stripping down to wash in the barrel next to the door. You don't like it when he tries to fuck you when he's dirty. Not that he cares. All he cares about is that his omega needs his cock. He won't even stop to eat the food you had managed to prepare before you had taken to your bed, barring the door and growling when he sees you in the bed. "Omega." He growls, knowing that he will be taking care of you until the heat has passed.

Agent Whiskey: There is nothing that Jack likes more than a needy, whiny omega, begging for his cock. Especially with it's his own omega. A trail of clothes is left through the house as he makes his way to the bedroom. Pausing at the end of the bed to watch as you try to pleasure yourself with your fingers in the middle of your bed, surrounded by the scent of your alpha, but it's not enough. His cock is already hard and leaking, his hand wrapped around it. "Sugar, you look mighty lonely in that pretty nest of yours." He coos, grinning at you. "Why don't you let your alpha take care of you and fill that needy pussy up?"

Marcus Pike: Marcus knows before he gets home. He can hear it in your voice and he keeps track of your heat cycles. He hated having to travel so close to the time, but he had hoped he would make it back in time. On the way home from the airport, he is calling for takeout to be delivered, knowing that you will need him to knot you, then you will need to eat. You forget to eat in the haze of lust unless he makes sure you do. On the drive home, he is talking to you, soothing you over the phone and talking you through using one of your toys while you are wearing his academy shirt that smells like him.

Max Phillips: This is one cocky motherfucker. An alpha and a vampire? He knew that you were going to be in heat before he ever even left on his fucking business trip. The iron levels in your blood changed. So when he hits the door, this man is already a puffed up, primed alpha. He's on you before you even know he's in the house. Groaning over your scent and burying his face in your cunt to get you ready to take him. His inhuman abilities will have your pain pushed away in no time and your sweet omega cries filling his ears.

Dave York: FERAL. This man is absolutely feral when he learns you are in heat. The animalistic urge to wreck you is always there, right beneath the surface, but when your hormones go wild and your heat sends out those heady pheromones, he takes it to another level. Your comfort is best determined by having your legs up on his shoulders, his cock buried inside you with his knot locking him in place while you scream his name until you are hoarse.

Oberyn Martell: Oberyn is actually slightly upset at you. There are other alphas, even betas, that you could have used to help you until he arrived. Ellaria lets him know that you are in your nest, suffering needlessly. He's even more upset that you haven't taken the potion he had been working with the maester of Dorne to help ease your heats. But he can't be too upset at you when you whimper his name and beg him to put a baby in you. He will stay right there until every second of your heat has passed and you're satisfied.

Zach Wellison: Zach is an attentive alpha, he's honestly so guilt ridden that he had been working on Ms. Martinez's water heater issues when your heat started. He's rushing to you and cooing, apologizing while he strips down and climbs into the bed with you. "I'm so sorry, baby, you should have called me." He is kissing and comforting you, pulling you into his arms and immediately starting to get you ready for his cock to take the ache away.

Max Lord: Max comes home, completely distracted by the fact that his company is failing. He smells something, but he is pouring over the reports and obsessing over the meetings that hadn't gone the way he had hoped them too. Unaware of your plight until he walks into the bedroom to change out of that uncomfortable suit and he is smacked in the face with your scent and sees you whining in the bed. His instinct is to take care of you and he will, but he's a little annoyed that he must right now. It's not the best time.

Marcus Moreno: He's nervous, this is the first time he has had to care for an omega since he lost his late wife. Not like you haven't had sex, but this is the first heat. It is his job to take care of you. He calls his mom and asks her to pick Missy up, aware that while his daughter knows what is going on, he needs to focus on you. Reminding you and himself that it will be okay and he will make sure that you are comfortable. Perhaps a little unsure of himself to start, but as soon as he comes into that alpha headspace, you remember why this man leads the Heroics team and is the perfect alpha for you.

Dieter Bravo: The fact that this man is an alpha is still the biggest surprise of your entire life, especially when he's your alpha. "Honey I'm hooooooooome!" Is the almost irritating greeting you get from the doorway, shouted through the house, but today he's yelping as soon as he hits the door. "Fuck! Where's that natural lube? Are you naked yet?" You can hear him banging around downstairs and slamming doors in a near state of panic. "I'm coming! Then - you're gonna cum! I promise! Fuck, I love when you are in heat!" Despite his chaos, Dieter loves noooooothing more than forgetting there is anything outside of the little nest you fix and the need to be buried inside you.

Javi Gutierrez: Javi was never away from you to begin with. He writes in the office with the door open and the second the first grunt of pain is heard, he is shutting down the laptop and coming to you. He knows that you are going into heat and immediately starts to reassure you that he will be right there for you. Whatever you need and however many times you need it, he will take care of it. Urging you to strip out of your itchy, irritating clothes and to climb into the bed that you will share for the next few days.

Tim Rockford: You have to call this motherfucker home. It's another late night for him. Chinese take-out cartons, cigarettes and stale coffee had been how his evening had looked as he worked well past the time other officers went home, burning another quart of that midnight oil. He had been startled when the phone rang, but when he hear your desperate, pained voice begging him to come home, he's grabbing his coat and racing out the door.

Joel Miller: Going into heat on the road is not easy, or convenient. If you think that his stress levels are high normally, they go through the roof right now. You will be so vulnerable, and his attention has to be focused on taking care of you. Joel will have to ignore the needs of your body, and his, until he can find a safe place for you to hole up. Somewhere Ellie can block out the "gross sounds", because let's face it, who wants to hear their chosen parents fuck? There's also the problem with needing more calories and water during this time. It's a lot to deal with, but Joel will take care of you, he hasn't let you down yet - but he has got to get you somewhere to dick you down before you feel like you're going to die.

Marcus Acacius: The entire encampment knows you are in heat. The tents are not thick enough to keep the cloying scent of your need and arousal contained to his tent. Alphas will be sniffing around and the only thing that protects you is the clear knowledge that any alpha that lays a hand on you will be die a slow and agonizing death at the general's hands. He is pulled from a strategy meeting by one of his servants, a loyal beta, who informs him of your plight. Making him hurry back, hearing your calls for him long before he reaches the tent to join you. Once he is inside, he is in complete control and the war will just have to go on without him, or there will be a tentative peace while he cares for you.

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tarjapearce · 1 year

Note

soccer family

how did miguel propose 👀💍

The serious questions yo ❤️✨

Hope you like 🥹✨

Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.

He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.

Yet, there you were.

Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.

He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.

Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.

How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.

The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.

He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.

He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.

You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.

Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.

"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.

Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.

After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.

You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.

"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."

You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.

He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.

He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.

He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.

And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.

You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.

He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.

A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.

Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.

You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.

"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"

"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."

His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.

"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."

Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.

The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.

You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.

"Mi reina?" (My queen)

An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'

"Would you marry me?"

Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.

"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"

You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.

But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.

"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)

He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.

"Good. Good."

"Te amo."

His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.

"También te amo, preciosa."

Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 imagine #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fluff #proposal #atsv imagines

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mysteryshoptls · 1 year

Text

SSR Rollo Flamme - Student Council President Robes Vignette

"...How carefree."

[Noble Bell College – Bell Tower Interior]

Rollo: Sigh… There is a slight chill. In addition, the sun is rising later as each day passes.

Rollo: Heh… This is a wonderful season. The time I must spend exchanging idle prattle with my idiotic classmates grows shorter.

Rollo: Now, before everyone awakens, I will do what I can to fulfill my duties.

Rollo: …And it would be a nuisance if I were to be spotted by those irritating bunch, as well.

[Noble Bell College – Bell Tower Upstairs]

[gargoyles clanking around]

Rollo: AUGH, SILENCE! You blasted gargoyles.

Rollo: All your merry romping is completely undignified. Can you not settle down for even a single moment?

[gargoyles happily clanking around]

Rollo: Ugh, yes, I will be sure to tend to you all next weekend. After all, I cannot tolerate abandoning a task that I have taken on.

Rollo: If you understand, then leave me be. I have more important matters to attend to.

[gargoyles clank away]

Rollo: …Finally, they've left. Good grief, they are indeed a troublesome group.

Rollo: It is repulsive enough that they operate on magic, but they are much worse in conjunction with all that atrocious noise...

Rollo: If their whole purpose of existence were not to protect the bell tower, I would have long ignored those hunks of stone.

Rollo: …Would you not agree, dear Bell of Salvation?

Rollo: Heheh. You are as beautiful as ever today.

Rollo: How wonderful it would be if everyone were just like you.

Rollo: You ring when you should ring and are silent when you should be silent. Nothing could be more appropriate and certain.

Rollo: …Ah. The sun will rise soon.

Rollo: I should finish cleaning before the bell ringers arrive.

Rollo: Please bestow upon us your beautiful resounding tones again today, dear Bell of Salvation.

[Noble Bell College – Courtyard]

Rollo: It's finally time for lunch.

Rollo: This should be a good distance away so I would not have to suffer the prattling of those unpleasant mages. I shall rest here…

???: Oh, President, here you are!

Rollo: Hm?

Vice President: I was searching for you, Rollo-kaichō. Why are you eating your lunch all the way out here?

Rollo: Oh, it's you…

Vice President: I see you're having bread for lunch. I never see you in the cafeteria, so I had no idea.

Rollo: That's right.

Rollo: 2 croissants and 16 singular grapes, as well as one cup of café au lait.

Rollo: That's all. That is my lunch every single day, 365 days a year.

Vice President: Eh, every day? YOU HAVE THE SAME THING FOR LUNCH EVERY DAY!?

Rollo: With a strict routine, I am able to forgo any unnecessary desires. It is rather refreshing. I wholeheartedly recommend you try it as well.

Vice President: I-I don't think I could do it. I'd probably get tired of the same stuff quickly.

Rollo: …How unfortunate that you are not a kindred spirit. More importantly, you had some business of me?

Vice President: Ah, right. Your professor was searching for you just a moment ago.

Vice President: It sounds like they wanted your permission to publish in a newspaper the essay you wrote on your impressions of that one book.

Rollo: A newspaper? …You wouldn't happen to be referring to the "Shaftlands News," that I read for my morning paper, would you?

Vice President: That's right. It's absolutely amazing that you'll be featured in such a big newspaper! That's Rollo-kaichō for you!

Vice President: I also heard that you were the only one who received a perfect score on the Potionology test in today's class.

Rollo: Hmph. It's nothing of import.

Vice President: No need to be so humble! Why, just the other day, you even brought to bloom a water blossom that is said to be very difficult to cultivate. The professors were very impressed.

Vice President: I truly hold you in high regard. There is no other mage at this school that has as much exceptional expertise as you!

Rollo: Is that so? …How ironic.

Vice President: Is something the matter?

Rollo: Nothing of concern. Rather, thank you for your message. Sorry to have caused you trouble.

Vice President: Not at all! But since I'm here, could I take lunch with you?

Rollo: …Well, I am just about done eating. I will be heading right to the professor's office now.

Rollo: Forgive me, but I must head out. We can partake in lunch together some other time.

Vice President: Alright. Then, we'll do it some other time!

[Noble Bell College – Lecture Hall]

Rollo: …How carefree. Why would he speak to me so familiarly, when he cannot even understand my thoughts…?

Rollo: Ah, but there is no time to dwell on that. I must head towards the staff room.

[City of Flowers]

[enters store]

Rollo: Hello.

Rollo: …Yes, that's correct. I would like to order the usual letterhead and envelope. Yes, one of the white ones.

Rollo: …Heh, I agree. Even if it may be considered an anachronism, I believe letters are wonderful tools.

Rollo: It may not be as convenient as sending an e-mail or making a phone call, but with more care and thought placed into each word, one can avoid any careless language.

Rollo: Hm? There is a cheaper stationary set similar to this one, from a different maker? …No, I am perfectly content with my usual fare.

Rollo: I could not bring myself to change the physical appearance of the letter after writing them for so long. I prefer to keep my things consistent and orderly, after all.

Rollo: …Yes, indeed. Thank you for everything, as always. Goodbye.

[leaves store]

Rollo: …A superb shopkeeper. As one would expect from a resident of the city that the Righteous Judge loved so.

Rollo: As a student of Noble Bell College, I must strive to be just as noble.

Rollo: …This city is a pleasant place to reside. The people are amiable, and the scenery is fantastic.

Rollo: However, all these beautiful flowers were originally cultivated with magic…

Rollo: Flowers… Magic…

Rollo: Mheh… Hehehe… Hehehehe…

Goat: Baa, baa.

Rollo: Hm, a goat, is it? What do you hope to gain from nestling up against me?

Rollo: Perhaps you are hungry. Unfortunately, I don't have anything that you could eat.

Rollo: If you are hoping for me to feed you, you would be better off finding someone else…

Goat: Baaa～

Rollo: What? …Are you attempting to snatch my stationary!?

Rollo: How vile… No, you cannot have it. I am very partial to this specific stationary.

Rollo: Moreover, eating paper will cause you digestive issues. I shan't think any less of you. You should give u… Hey, let go this instance!

Goat: Baaa～～

Rollo: You wretched goat! If you do not release my papers, I will have to just…!

Rollo: Ah. No, there are too many people who may see…

Rollo: If you weren't a creature cherished by this city, I wouldn't hesitate to send you flying.

Rollo: Consider this a narrow escape.

Goat: BAAA!

Rollo: Don't you dare gnaw on my robe! I may find the City of Flowers to be spectacular in and of itself, however I cannot approve of these unsanitary conditions.

[Noble Bell College – Student Board Room]

Rollo: "In conclusion, I am doing as well as ever. My best wishes to you both, as well." …

Rollo: …Perhaps that is a tad too formal.

Rollo: No matter. It is enough for my parents to hear that I am doing well here.

Rollo: They have always been worrisome…

Rollo: Much too worrisome… Ever since…

Rollo: …

Rollo: The fire…

Rollo: …

Rollo: …Well. I suppose I could provide additional updates in the letter.

Rollo: I'm certain I will be unable to fall asleep sufficiently tonight, at any rate. I'll continue revising it as much as possible.

Rollo: I have nothing but time, after all…

Requested by @raven-at-the-writing-desk.

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wonderlandwalker · 8 months

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Desperate Measures | Remus Lupin x Reader

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Summary: (Part 1: Desperate Times) After your break-up Remus doesn't know what to do with himself, but when he finally gets to see you again he promises himself to make it up to you by any means he can

Content Warnings/Tags: fluff, small amount of angst, big amount of smut, minord dni, 18+, unedited writing, still not sure if smut is my strong suit but won't stop me from trying

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: A lot has happened while I took a break from writing for a little while but it basically comes down to the fact that I still struggle with my mental health on a daily basis and writing isn't always my priority. While I do not plan to stop writing any time soon, the intervals of them will probably continue to stay longer. So thank you to everyone who has the patience to wait. Anyway, today is my birthday, so this is my small gift to all of you for the occasion xx

His friends didn't dare say anything, no, they could see how he was doing, they didn't need to ask. So they let him sulk, and it's not like they hadn't tried to cheer him up, but there was nothing that seemed to work. Not the speech from James, not the distractions Sirius tried, and not even the chocolate muffins Peter swiped from the kitchen could get a smile on his face. Just letting him wait it out seemed like the best option. But as time continued to pass and Remus continued to sulk, they realised a more hands-on approach was needed.

They weren't sure if talking to you would go over well, so they decided to test the waters by talking to your friends.

"What do you want Potter" Lily glared at James as he sat down next to her.

"Don't you think it's time she apologizes"

Now see, all of them were used to the incredulous looks Lily would give James, but this one beat the record.

"What in the seven hells are you on about"

"Remus has suffered enough, he hasn't left the dorm in nearly a week."

"So?"

"So. Whatever fight they had she clearly seems fine" he gestured over to where you were sitting a little further away, breaking your pastry up into small bits to eat as you laughed with Marlene over some joke he couldn't hear.

"Don't you think she should apologise to him by now, they always make up eventually"

Lily dropped the exasperated expression as her face turned to stone while she spoke her next words.

"Yes, James, she seems fine. I found her crying her eyes out on the bathroom floor. Just because she is coping better than Remus doesn't entitle him to anything. "

James's overconfident demeanour dropped slightly. He had been worried about his friend all this time, he hadn't stopped to look at how it affected you. But when paying closer attention he could see Lily was right, there were bags under your eyes and they were still a little red, you must have cried even more after the night Lily was talking about.

"You know I care for her as well, but Remus is being stubborn, he won't even talk to us, won't even tell us what happened, we just thought that if she saw the state he is in, she'd maybe forgive him, get through to him"

"There is nothing to get through about. He broke up with her, now he's suffering the consequences, good riddance if you ask me"

Now it was James' turn to look startled

"Hang on a second. They broke up?" Lily copied his expression

"Yes they broke up, what did you idiots think was going on"

"We figured they fought, they fight sometimes but they always make up" Lily started shaking her head as she answered him.

"Not this time, he broke her heart, James. Even if he did regret it, I'm not sure she'd forgive him, and I don't think she should either"

Taking a last look at you, James bolted from the table. All this time they had simply assumed he was irritable because of a fight, but you had broken up. Not only that, it was Remus that had broken up with you. No, this would surely not do, not if they could help it.

Over the next few days, they came up with a plan to, in the easiest of terms, get Remus to beg for forgiveness. It all started with the party

"I'm really not in the mood Sirius" Remus was stretching time the most he could, but Sirius wasn't letting up.

"You've been cooked up in that bed for nearly two weeks now, people are starting to wonder if we've killed you with one of our pranks. Besides, if nothing else there'll be liquor, liquor solves everything"

Normally Remus would have argued, but strangely enough, this time Sirius had a point. But Sirius had a mission too. Yes, he was following the plan step by step. He had talked to Marlene, who had promised to get you to the party as well, which was probably a much easier task than he had been left with, seeing how after last week you had decided it was no use sitting around moping any longer.

He dragged Remus down to the party going on in the Gryffindor common room, poured him a glass of the strongest thing he could find, and got him settled on the couch. For a moment he debated getting Remus to dance, but that might have been a bit too ambitious. Either way, Remus was here now, Sirius's part was done.

Remus saw you standing on the other side of the room, and either you hadn't noticed him yet or you were simply ignoring him, but you seemed to be in your own world. And he was fine with looking at you from where he was, after all, that's the fate he had resigned himself to. He was fine with watching you because you seemed like you were enjoying yourself.

But it didn't take long for his so-called plan to crumble down like a poorly constructed house of cards. Because he saw someone walk up to you, he saw someone get close to you, someone who wasn't supposed to.

What was Evan Rosier doing at a Gryffindor party? But he didn't have much time to think about it, because he saw Evan walk up from behind you, and at first you seemed startled, but when you turned around to face him you seemed to light up. You pushed up on your toes to hug him and Remus's stomach started to twist. Not in the way it always used to when it came to you. His insides used to do somersaults every time he got a smile out of you. No matter how sour of a mood he was in, it would light him up.

His friends used to poke fun at him for it, but they soon realized you were the only thing that would cheer him up when their usual methods had run out, and they surrendered to the spell you seemed to have him under.

But this was nothing like that. Evan secured his arms around you and you let him, why did you let him? He knew he had been avoiding you, but he couldn't have missed this much. He sat there and watched, his body seemed to have turned to stone as if you had been Medusa herself. His eyes he couldn't keep off you, it was only when Evan pulled back that he thought the nausea that had bubbled up in his stomach would disappear, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Because the moment he did, Evan took off his jacket, and put it around you. The green colour of it engulfed you and Remus was filled with it just the same.

He felt as if he wasn't in control of his own body as he stood up from the couch, walking in your direction. He wasn't even sure what he would say, what he would do, but he could no longer sit and watch idly. So when Remus reached you he did the only thing that made sense to him, he pulled you in and kissed you. He kissed you like he had thought about doing every minute for the last few weeks. He had wondered if your lips were still as soft as they used to be, what a stupid question, he thought now, of course they were.

For just a second his life is back the way it should be, you're kissing him as if it's pure muscle memory, and perhaps it is because only a moment later you seem to come to your senses and pull away. But you're still looking at him, and your eyes have him just as Enchanted as the first time he saw you. He recognizes a small sparkle in them and promises himself to make it ablaze again.

"Can we talk, please" He is ready to get down on his knees and beg you, because he doesn't know if he can stand being without you anymore. He would drop to the floor and grovel for your forgiveness if that was what it took, but of course, you don't make him. Even before he's always been ready to tear his heart from his chest and give it to you the moment you requested so. He would watch it continue to beat as he ripped it out because by now it was entirely yours anyway, it wouldn't stop as long as you were near, wouldn't dare let you down.

You nod your head to the stairs leading up to the dorms and he walks with you until you're in the dorm, the door shutting behind you. He wants to push you up against the door and trail kisses down your neck like he used to, but he can tell you have something to say, so he sits down on the foot of your bed, trying not to fidget with his hands too much.

"You really hurt me Remus" The way your eyebrows slightly pinch together and the slight pout on your face makes him once again regret every single word he uttered that night. He's trying to think of what to say, how to continue. Because he's gotten this far and he's determined not to mess up again. But what is there to say, what can he say other than the fact that he's sorry, which seems like too much of an understatement for the situation he created.

"I know" is all he can come up with, and it's true, he spent so much time thinking about what he had done and how it had hurt you.

"I don't know if I'm ready to just move on as if nothing happened"

"I know" Remus wants to smack his own head for his response. This was his one chance to make it right and he couldn't even form a coherent thought.

"I'm sorry" is all he can say next, and he wants to smack himself again for the oversimplification. But you look at him as if it's enough, as if you know the weight those words truly hold behind them. He wouldn't be surprised if you could see right into his mind, you've always been able to read him so well.

"Please let me make it up to you, I promise I will" You look at him again, and walk closer to where he is sitting.

"How exactly do you propose to do that?" Your tone has shifted, and he's still nervous, but no longer for the same reason. It's the kind of nervous jitters he still gets when he's close to you, the kind that makes him want to pin you down underneath him and spend eternity looking at you. Except this time he's not sure what to do. He usually knows exactly what you want, has got your body memorised like a map that leads to treasure. But now he needs to tread more lightly, not taking any chance of having read it wrong.

But you walk towards him until you've slotted yourself between his open legs, and he knows it is all going to be okay, because you start to softly move your hands through his hair in a way that makes his head spin, and he grounds himself by pulling you closer, hugging his face to your stomach. He lets himself enjoy it for a few seconds before he remembers the promise he just made.

He starts to leave small kisses going up your torso, and ghosts his fingers over the back of your thighs as you're still standing in front of him. He holds your body closer to his and hears a small moan leave your mouth. And it's only softly, but he hears it, and it’s his sign not to stop.

His hands move with a mind of their own, trailing further up until he reaches under your skirt, finding the soft flesh of your ass and giving it a gentle squeeze before he retracts one of his hands to slap it. And now he’s sure, because the sound that leaves you is no longer hesitant, it's pleading. He grabs onto your legs and flips you over onto the bed behind him, your head hitting the pillow as he hovers over you.

You move to kiss him, and he doesn't dare refuse. It’s different from earlier, more desperate. Not only his but your emotions showing through it, it's harsh, too much teeth, too forceful, but he can't find it in himself to mind. He kisses you back with just as much passion, and while he could spend eternity like this, he had something else in mind for now. So he moves his lips down your neck, and you arch into him immediately, giving him better access to the spot he’s looking for.

“Remus please” he doesn't need to be told twice, not today at least. His hands inch up underneath your shirt, delicately moving it up your body until it reaches your head, and you don’t hesitate to shrug it off and throw it off the bed. He’s enthralled for a moment, the sight before his eyes so familiar yet so captivating.

He makes quick work of his own shirt and moves back to leave open-mouth kisses down your chest as his hands once again travel down. But he doesn't make you wait long, because it’s followed by him moving your underwear to the side, sliding his fingers over your folds, feeling how wet you already are for him. His mouth is still busy on your chest, reacting to the sounds you make as he’s sucking bruises into your skin. With his free hand he tugs down your bra, finally giving him full access to your chest. The moment his mouth grazes over your nipple you moan out his name and he starts circling your clit before inserting two of his fingers into you. Your body immediately remembers the feeling and he can feel you already starting to clench around him, but he’s not about to question it. He’s still using his thumb to trace patterns onto your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of you, searching for the spot he knows will make you see the stars. He curls them once again and from the sounds leaving you he knows he’s found it, relentlessly hitting it as if it's his only goal in life, and right now it is.

It doesn't take much longer until you’re panting and writhing underneath him, and he has to use his free hand to pin your hips down on the mattress. As moans and whispers of his name continue to stream from you he wonders how he ever thought he could make peace with never hearing you say his name again, but he doesn't dwell on it for long as he feels you spasming around his fingers, clenching as if your body is trying to keep him there. He coaxes you through it until your breathing turns back to normal and he pulls his fingers out, hovering back over you as he cleans them off with his mouth, humming at the taste.

You’re starting to come back down from your haze and he can feel your hands travelling over his body before one of them drags over the bulge in his trousers. The friction makes him close his eyes and sighs, dropping his head in the crook of your neck. You’re trying to undo his belt when he snaps back to reality, catching your hands in his own as he stops you.

“What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice makes him want to soothe away any worries you might be carrying, and he’s quick to tell you.

“Nothing’s wrong darling, I’m just not finished apologizing yet.” It’s not that he doesn't want to feel your hands on him, pumping him as he loses his composure, but he’s already painfully hard from making you cum on his fingers, and he wasn't finished.

And so with a final kiss to your lips he shifts back down your body until he's face to face with your pussy. You’re fidgeting underneath him and he uses his hands to lock your legs in place, holding them open so he can do exactly as he wants. He starts by tickling your inner thighs with kisses, enjoying the feeling of your skin against his. Normally he would take his time, get you desperate underneath him, but he’s the desperate one now, so he doesn't waste any more time. His tongue flattens out over your entrance and a whine of his name leaves your mouth, followed by more moans that make him rut into the mattress, seeking for some friction of his own.

He distracts himself by massaging the fat of your thighs, trailing over the stretch marks he adores. You're rutting your hips into his mouth and when your hand finds purchase in his hair, tugging on it as his tongue enters your folds, he no longer tries to hold back. His attack on you is so sweetly malicious, your taste intoxicating hum further than any liquor could, he grinds down and moans into you. The vibrations make your breath hitch and he can feel you getting close again. The soft pleas and whines coming from you are a melody he will orchestrate for as long as he can, his nose bumps against your clit as his tongue is still busy lapping up your juices and it makes you twitch under him.

“That's it darling, cum all over my tongue” He's craving it just as much himself, every shaky breath from you and every time he feels you clench he gets closer to his own high. All he wants to do is get you there so he can let go himself. He doubles his efforts, remembering what you like, listening to your body react, and with his mouth still busy between your legs you suddenly go still, your body motionless except for the small flexes of the muscles in your thighs. He knows better than to stop, coaxing you further until the filthiest of moans come from your mouth, relentlessly thanking him, although he's certain he should be the one thanking you.

He's still chasing your sweet taste as he can feel his cock straining impossibly hard, the tip pulsating as he finds his own release, too caught up in you to even care that he is coming in his trousers, whines leaving his mouth as he still laps up anything you give him. He doesn't stop until you push his head away and he glances up at your face, a thin layer of sweat glistening above your eyebrows. You're radiating pure ecstasy and he can't help but smile at the sight. You silently ask him to come up by tugging the back of his neck towards you and he wouldn't even dream of doing anything other than complying.

“I've missed you Remmy” it's barely there, your voice a whisper in the now quiet room, but it's more than enough for him. He leaves featherlight kisses over your face, from your forehead to your cheekbone and finally finding his final destination on your lips. It's soft, sensual and full of pent up emotions and apologies, but the way in which you settle yourself next to him, cuddling into him with a content sigh as if he's the puzzle piece you fit next to let's him know that despite everything, you'll always find your way back to each other, even in the most desperate of times.

Taglist: @hesperdern, @lexmoon17, @y0urm0m12, @dreamingofmarauders

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