#one of my fav live events ever for sure

[isolationaroundus]

Now this is what the fuck I am talking about! 🤘🤘🤘🤘🤘

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 FIRST LIGHT

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai severely overestimated his self-control. it takes approximately six days and thirteen hours for him to break, seeking you out again. when he does, he knows that nothing will ever be the same. {wordcount: 14.5k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART TWOOOOOOO, we have one of my fav parallels in this one, i know you guys will catch it immediately but u still must tell me when you do. also, there's another hint about badlands!reader & dazai's relationship in this chapter that happened after the events of the last installment so u must let me know if you catch that too. reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

He understands now the temptation that Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden with the forbidden fruit dangling right in front of her face. Traditional interpretation of the Bible places the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden on day six of creation; Dazai’s restraint has thus far rivaled that of the two Biblical figures. He’s on day six now, in fact; it’s been exactly six days, twelve hours and forty six minutes since he met you in the hallway of the club and each passing second has been more agonizing than the last. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last. 

His office is dark and suffocating, the atmosphere so cold and unwelcoming that it has him craving the return to your warm and homely apartment so intensely that he thinks it might be making him sick. He turned off the light earlier when he felt a migraine coming on, hoping that the darkness would let his eyes and mind rest enough to catch it before it fully came on, but he’s realized that it probably wasn’t the light causing his headache, rather it was you.

He sighs as he tilts his head back, willing the migraine to go away even though he knows it's to no avail. But he can’t even rest his eyes in peace, because every time they slide shut, the image of you burns the inside of his eyelids—your soft gaze and bright smile, the way you held your hand out to take his and the way your lashes fluttered as you leaned into his touch. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty seven minutes. 

He thinks he would prefer the nightmares of his other lives to this. At least with those, they fuel his drive to press forward with his master plan, the reminder of your fates in the other worlds would scorch away any desire to seek you out in fear of bringing it upon you again in this one.

Now, every night for the past six days he’s been plagued with dreams of you—pleasant dreams. Dreams that when he wakes from them, he finds his cheeks wet and his chest heavy with such an intense longing for you that it makes him physically ill. He dreams of having you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as you do your best to study even with him making every effort to distract you. He dreams of watching sunrises with you, seeing the way the early morning colors wash over your face, your skin glowing and eyes glittering in such a vivid way that Dazai swears he can even picture it now. He dreams of a ring, and he dreams of his palms sweating as he walks with you down to the beach you met on to watch another sunrise, and he dreams of getting down on one knee in front of you just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He never dreams of a wedding, so Dazai theorizes that you never made it long enough for one to take place. 

And the realization of that alone should be enough to make the yearning for you evaporate but it’s not, because dangerous thoughts have been circulating through his head since the night he left you. Thoughts of how maybe this could be different. Dazai is the boss of the Port Mafia in this life, he has enough resources to protect you—more money than god and enough armed forces behind him to rival the nation’s government. He has the power to keep you safe in this life, more than he ever had in any other. 

If there was any life that he could be with you and ensure your safety, it’s this one. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty nine minutes.

Does he really want to give this up?

Dazai rests his arms on his desk, lowering his head down, eyes sliding shut again. He can see you again, the image of you from last week, laughing wildly at something he’d said—he can’t even remember what it was, he was so nervous that he can’t even recall half of the night, but he doesn’t really care at all what he said anyway, too enraptured by the way you react to it. 

He wonders if you’re there now. At the bar. Because what he does remember, of course, is your teasing grin as you tell him that of course, you’re scheming out a second meeting between the two of you because naturally you’ve decided that you already like him. And he remembers the hope thinly veiled behind your eyes, as you look over him, knowing that if the two of you are to meet again, it would be reliant on whether or not he decides to come back to the club, because you’ve already made your intentions clear.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty minutes.

Dazai’s throat feels swollen, his nails dig into his palms. He imagines you waiting there, he imagines the disappointment on your face as you slowly realize he’s not going to show up. And you’re so damn beautiful, radiant even beneath the shitty lighting of the club—he’s sure you saved a seat at the bar for him, and you’ve probably had dozens of interested men who’ve offered to buy you drinks, asking if you’d come to the club alone. And you’ll probably turn them down at first, telling them that you’re waiting on someone, but he wonders how long it’ll take for you to finally take one of them up on their offer after you’ve realized that Dazai isn’t going to show. He wonders if you’ll follow them out to the dance floor, he wonders if you’ll give them the same teasing smile you gave him. He can picture slim fingers caressing your hips, pulling you closer. He can picture your lashes fluttering as they lean their head down to ghost their lips against your neck, swaying to the music. He doesn’t want to picture anything else, but his mind, as always, betrays him. 

He wonders if you’ll take them back to your apartment—would you get right into it or would you sit and talk with them for a while? His head spins as his thoughts take an increasingly more dangerous spiral. It’s a bitter cold night out, maybe you’ll take the opportunity to make them the hot chocolate you’ve made him hundreds of times, thousands of times before—no, he corrects as the lines start to blur in a treacherous way, you’ve never made it for him in this life. Maybe it’s so cold out that you’d forgo small talk altogether, instead seeking out the warmth of someone else’s body—you’d take them by the hand, lead them into your bedroom and lay them back on your bed. 

Would you be gentle with them? Like you were with him? No, he reminds himself again, you’ve never been with him like that, not in this life. The pages of the Book pile around him, memories flooding him with an intensity that he’s never experienced before; he can hardly even remember what his reality is, all of the others blending and shifting together in his mind, making it impossible to decipher the lines between them. 

You’re dragging him to the beach to watch your first sunrise with him and you’re telling him that you want to see as many as possible with him—he wants to tell you that he thinks he might love you but he doesn’t know how to say it  You’re laying him back against a bed, asking him if he trusts you—of course, he does, how is that even a question? You’re leaning your head against his arm, standing before a familiar grave and accepting him for all that he is even after he strips bare down to all of the worst parts of himself for you—you shouldn’t, he wants to say desperately, but instead he’s telling you that he loves you, even though he knows it might kill you. And then-

And then he’s ripped violently from his fall into the pages of the Book as his phone vibrates and it’s not him anymore, it’s someone else, someone unworthy and undeserving, a stranger that you’d turned to because Dazai wasn’t there.

Dazai nearly heaves. He never should have indulged in you that night. He should have known he was never going to go back to normal after it. The difference between the memories and actually having seen you and heard you and touched you and smelt you was so much more severe than he ever could have expected. Now, the memories aren’t enough; he wants a life with you, he wants it to be his reality. He thinks that it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can’t be with you. He wants to make new memories with you so he no longer has to struggle with the blurred lines, so he doesn’t have to yearn for a life that he’ll never be able to experience, having to watch every single other Dazai get to have what he can’t.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty eight minutes.

He can do it, his thoughts are a bit manic as he tries to ground himself after the spiral. He has the knowledge. He has the power. He has the resources. If there’s any life that he’s able to be with you and keep you safe, it’s this one. He doesn’t have to hide from you, he doesn’t have to deny himself of you to protect you—he has the knowledge, he has the power, he has the resources. He can keep you safe. Instead of being the only Dazai who never gets to be with you, he’ll be the only Dazai who can actually spend his life with you—a long one, a happy one. He’ll have what none of them did. He can do it.  

Before he can stop himself, he speaks.

“Gin-chan,” Dazai calls softly, knowing that he doesn’t have to speak any louder for the girl to hear him. As soon as he hears the door to the backroom open, he continues with, “Have Albatross be ready downstairs with one of the cars.” 

“Of course. Where to, sir?” 

To Gin’s credit, she doesn’t sound at all caught off guard by Dazai’s sudden request, as if it’s normal for Dazai to randomly decide to leave the Port Mafia base even though he can count on one hand the number of times he’s left the base since he ascended to the position of boss four years earlier. 

“... The club we own in Naka,” Dazai says after a few moments, fingers thrumming against the mahogany of his desk for a moment before he adds, “... Don’t tell Chuuya.”

“... Yes, sir. I’ll have Albatross get everything ready immediately.”

At exactly six days and thirteen hours, Dazai’s self-control shatters. 

You sigh. 

The seat next to you remains damningly empty despite the many attempts of handsome strangers trying to join you at the bar. You’re sure you must’ve turned down half a dozen by now in hopes that the stranger from last Friday will end up showing up but those hopes are very quickly disappearing. You want to convince yourself that maybe you’ve just missed him—it’s a rather large club, after all—but it’s not half as packed as it was last week; you think that if he were here, you would’ve spotted him by now. Or he would have spotted you.  

Dazai Osamu, you remember his name, eyes sliding shut briefly as you take a sip of your water, wondering if you should just switch to alcohol and drink your sorrows away, seek out one of the men who’d approached you already so you don’t end up spending the night alone. The thought leaves you unsatisfied, a pout rising to your lips around the rim of your glass as you finish off yet another glass of water. 

You swear that you’re not usually this pathetic—especially not over a man—but there’s just something about this Dazai Osamu that has you acting up. Like honestly, who even are you? Going to the club alone on a Friday night with nothing but some faint hopes that the man you’d met here last week would show up too? It’s so embarrassing, you think you might die—but somehow you’re not embarrassed enough to leave because you’re still hoping that he shows up. 

God, you think again, who are you anymore? You barely even know this man. You know his name and you know he’s handsome. And that’s just about it, but here you are, sitting bummed at a club because he isn’t showing even though he has absolutely no reason to. 

The bartender raises his eyebrows with a small smile and you pass the glass over to him, letting him refill it. He’s the same one from last week and he recognized you as soon as you took a seat at the bar, making sure to get you what you need and keep you company whenever there’s a lull in patrons flagging him down. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment that you got early in the night last week, where it had taken you twenty minutes to get a single drink and even then you could barely hold his attention long enough to tell him what you wanted. You can’t help but notice that he seems hyperaware of the open seat next to you.

As the bartender passes you another glass of water, you flash him a wavering smile, unconsciously sparing another awkward glance to the empty seat next to you. While the club isn’t quite as packed as it was last week, it’s not exactly empty and you’re starting to feel bad hoarding the seat when plenty of others probably want to sit down too. 

“I’m sure he’ll show,” the bartender tells you before he’s waved down by another patron. You wonder if he’s guessed who you’re waiting for or if it’s just meant to be some general comfort. “Probably just running late, he’s a busy man.”

Oh, you think, eyes widening, but before you can question him as to what he means, he’s rushing to go refill the drink of a blonde man on the opposite end of the bar.

A busy man. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu? 

Even in your drunken state, you knew from the moment you met him that there was something off about him. The way he held himself, the way he looked at you, the way people treated him—it all screamed danger. Once you’d sobered up, you remembered all of the things you didn’t notice while you’d been intoxicated. You remembered the way people would rush to get out of his way or show him complete deference, eyes a bit wide and faces a bit pale. You remembered the way Takeda looked sick and scared when Dazai told him to go, and Takeda is usually a bull-headed and fearless man, it takes a lot to make him back down. You remembered his driver—he had a driver!—and how when he stepped out of the car to open the door for the two of you, you swore you caught a glint of gunmetal holstered at his waist before Dazai gave him a cold look and he quickly covered it up.

And you’re not usually a girl who seeks danger out, for as much as you went on your spiel about living life on the edge the last time you spoke to him, you’re usually a pretty careful person. If you were smart, you would have woken up the next morning and pretended that you were too drunk to remember the night before, forget all about Dazai Osamu and his dangerous smile and intense gaze. 

But you aren’t smart, evidently, because instead of forgetting about him, you spent half of the next day mourning because he didn’t even leave you his number and the other half of it scheming out the best way of running into him again. 

You sigh, resting your cheek on your hand as you prop your elbow up on the bartop, idly tracing the rim of your glass.

What is it about you, Dazai?

One meeting and you’re captivated. He must be some kind of witch, or siren, there’s no other explanation for how you’re so utterly enchanted by him. He spoke your name with the familiarity of a lover, watching you with gentle eyes even though they become cold and empty whenever they avert to someone other than you. And you—you felt as if you’ve known him your entire life. You’ve never had such an instant connection with someone like that before, you’re convinced that it’s fate at work, even if he’s adamant against the thought.

You want to see him again. You wonder if it was maybe just your drunken brain misconstruing things, although somehow you doubt it. You need to talk to him again to know if the connection is real, and if it’s real-

“Is this seat taken?”

At first, the voice doesn’t register as familiar, so you let out a soft puff of air, trying to figure out if you should deny another person. But as you turn to face the newcomer, your eyes widen a bit as you catch sight of the long, burgundy scarf hanging in your peripheral, stark against a long, sleek black suit jacket.

Your lips part in shock, head snapping to the side so you can fully look at the person to your left. Dazai Osamu stands there, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, head tilted to the side, a small smile curving at his lips and a soft look in his eye as he looks down at you, comforting and warm compared to the cold emptiness you vaguely noticed from him at certain points last night.

You try to say no, it’s not taken, but no words leave your lips, so instead, you shake your head, eyes following Dazai as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. The bartender rushes over, all but abandoning the couple he’d been helping on the opposite side of the bar, pouring Dazai an expensive glass of whiskey and giving him a nod before going back to who he’d been helping before. Your eyes follow the man curiously before you turn your gaze back to Dazai, not speaking for a moment as you observe the way he stares down at the glass of whiskey for a second, the warmth in his eye slowly dissipating.

You don’t like it, and not because it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but rather because you just don’t like how alone he seems. So, you lean forward, smiling, and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Dazai turns his gaze back to you and the warmth returns, pools of honey rather than the endless void. You melt beneath it. 

“I vaguely remember a beautiful woman mentioning scheming out a second meeting,” Dazai drawls, dark eye lidded as he looks down at you, a half-smile decorating his face. “It would be quite remiss of me to be the cause of her failure.”

Your cheeks feel a bit a hot as you grin down at your drink. “While we’re on the topic of things I may or may not have said last week, I have to be honest with you. I totally lied about something,” you say with a laugh, leaning on the bar. He raises his eyebrow curiously. You give him a sheepish smile as you continue with, “I have absolutely no idea how to charm someone, drunk or sober, I was entirely speaking out of my ass, so keep your expectations low.”

The smile that curls to the corner of his lips is soft enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I think you just being yourself is plenty charming,” he murmurs.

You let out a noise caught between a groan and a whimper, face going hot. “Oh my god, you’re the charmer,” you accuse loudly, burying your face in your arms. “I’ll never survive. Handsome and charming, a deadly combination.”

As you peer your eyes open to look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his smile briefly falters at your words. You promptly decide to change the subject with: “Thank you for making sure I got home safely last week.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, one pale, lithe finger tracing along the rim of his glass. Your eyes linger for a moment on the digit, mind wandering, before you force your gaze up; you can see the bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his dark coat as your eyes drag his arm back to his face. There’s a knowing expression on his face, the smile on his lips a bit more sensual. Your breath catches as you avert your gaze, feeling quite like you’ve just been caught doing something bad.

“Sure I do,” you try to make the words sound casual and easy but despite your most sincere attempts, your voice is strained. “Not many people would go out of their way like that for someone they just met.”

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. You’re not sure what he finds amusing, but you decide you don’t care because you very much prefer it to the distant look that had been painted in them before.

“An unfortunate world we live in, then,” he says softly, but there’s a lilt to his tone that makes you feel like he knows something that you don’t. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it though as he asks, “Are you going to have anything to drink?”

You startle slightly at the question, glancing down at the glass of water you’re drinking before you tell him with a laugh, “I don’t know if I want to force you to deal with me drunk twice. Didn’t I promise I’d stay sober this time?”

“If I remember correctly, you only said ‘not quite as drunk,’” he says, lips tilting up a bit and god, the way he’s looking at you has you flustered, gaze lidded and intense, as if you’re the only one in the room and not in a club with hundreds of other people. “Let me order you something, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, that’s bold,” you warn, tossing him a teasing smile. “I'm very particular about my drinks, I’ll have you know. I’m almost curious what you have in mind that makes you so confident.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Dazai says, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your decision.

You give a heavy sigh, pretending like it’s a difficult decision even though you know it’s not. “Fine, but only if you promise to cut me off after two. Whenever I hit three, I hit the floor.”

You extend your pinky toward him, waiting for him to take it, and when he does, you swear a jolt of electricity shoots up your arm. As he wraps his finger around yours, your heart skips a beat, your eyes meet his and you think you might get lost in the dark pools, you don’t think you would mind if you do and that scares you. You’ve never had someone make your heart flutter and mind haze like this, especially not so quickly.

“Promise,” he breathes out, barely audible above the thundering music and crowds. 

You dip your head down to press your lips against your thumb to seal the deal, and you think you fall even more when you don’t have to tell him to do the same, following your lead and kissing his own thumb to seal it. And you briefly wonder if this man might be your soulmate because he didn’t give you a single odd look and didn't hesitate for a second whereas when you’ve made pinky promises with some of your other friends and past partners, their expression always twists a bit in confusion or oddity at the second part.

Rather than letting go of your hand, he swaps to his other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and resting it on your lap before he flags the bartender down—quite easily, might you add—and leans over the bartop to say something quietly to him. The man nods and rushes off, and you give Dazai a scandalized look as he turns his attention back to you, hyper aware of the warmth of his fingers against yours.

“You won’t even tell me what it is?” you gasp in mock offense. 

Dazai rests his other elbow on the bar top, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you through his lashes. You couldn’t drag your gaze away if you wanted to, tunneled onto him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Quite confident for someone that hardly knows me, aren’t you, Dazai?” you giggle, raising your hand to cover your lips, and god, he looks so amused again, and so handsome. You might die. “That’ll be for me to judge.”

“Very confident,” he agrees, and you think he winks but you can’t tell because one of his eyes is covered by bandages. 

“So,” you begin, waiting for the drink. “You’re from around here then?”

You hope he is, at least, because you’d like to keep seeing him. Something about him is just so intoxicating, like a drug you just can’t get enough of. You think he must be, from the way he seems so familiar with the bartender and other patrons, but you could always be wrong.

You hope you’re not wrong.

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees, humming around the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. You hope the excitement you feel doesn’t flash across your face. “Yokohama born and raised… you?” 

Distantly, a part of you feels like the question is just an afterthought, as though he already knows the answer and you wonder if you’re that obvious, but you pay no mind to that, instead nodding. “Same,” you say, and then, “... I wonder if we have crossed paths before then. You’re so familiar, I can’t imagine that we’ve never met before… Maybe uni? Did you happen to go to UTokyo? I graduated there last year.”

Dazai seems to hesitate at the question, as if considering his answer. You wonder why, but he leaves you little time to figure it out because he finally replies, “No… I was in Tokyo for business for a while a couple years ago though.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?” you ask, leaning forward as you speak. “Where did you work? I know the area pretty well.”

He hesitates again, this time more blatantly, and you can see the confliction that briefly flashes across his face. How curious. 

“It wasn’t a particular storefront, or anything, just my line of work had me in the area for a while.”

You’re about to press into what his line of work is, desperate to know more about the man sitting in front of you, but you’re interrupted by the bartender returning with a martini so stunning that if it tastes half as good as it looks, you might fall in love. 

But you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“Go on,” Dazai says, leaning a bit back in his seat as he watches. He looks at you as if he already knows that you’re going to like it and you’re adamant on destroying his assumptions, you will hate this drink if it’s the last thing you do. “Tell me what you think.”

You lift the martini glass up to your lips carefully, the dark liquid so close to the brim that you’re nervous it will spill over the sides. He watches you expectantly, you pointedly hold his gaze as you take a sip of the drink and-

“Oh my god.”

Dazai looks utterly vindicated, raising his chin as you take a sip of the drink and stare at it in shock. It’s so… tasty. It’s creamy, and sweet, and you can hardly taste the alcohol but you can feel the tingle on your tongue and the light burn in your throat. All thoughts of the conversation you were having before the drink showed up disappear, and you’re focused solely on the glass in your hands and the man before you.

“So?” God, he’s evil. He almost purrs the word, as if he knows exactly what your response is going to be. He leans forward a bit, looking down at you through his lashes. “Give me the verdict, Your Honor.”

“It’s good,” you say, raising your chin in spite, hoping that your expression doesn’t betray but from the way his lips spread into a wider smile, you fear that you completely failed. 

“Just good?” Dazai croons. 

You pause for a second, debating on lying and telling him yes, just good, but the words you intend on speaking do not leave your lips. Rather, you say, “Okay. It may or may not be one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while. You have to tell me what it is so I know what to ask for.”

“Hmm.” Dazai lifts a finger to his chin, as if considering your words. “I don’t think I will.”

“What!”

His smile becomes a bit softer, his expression more teasing. “I think I’ll hold that information hostage, so you have to come out with me again if you want to drink it.”

A jittery feeling spreads through your chest, heart fluttering, cheeks hot. “Oh? Look who’s scheming out our third meeting already,” you taunt lightly. “How the tables turn.”

“Of course, I’m scheming out our third meeting, maybe our fourth and fifth too,” he mimics your words from last week shamelessly. “I’ve decided I already like you, bella.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue easily, as if it’s second nature to him, and your face is on fire but Dazai looks like he’s shocked even at himself. You fumble with your words for just a second, it takes you a moment too long to recover but you think that Dazai doesn’t even notice in his stunned state. 

You decide to return fire. 

“I hope all of our dates aren’t just going to be at clubs,” you tell him with a smile that edges on flirtatious, cocking your head to the left.

Your words hardly register until you notice that his cheeks have become bright and rosy, hand instinctively coming up to hide his face. He looks entirely like he’s at a loss for words, lips parting and closing several times. It’s so endearing that you think you might really die now, but then the gravity of your words hit you like a train.  

Oh god. A date? A date?? This is only the second time you’ve met, that was way too soon. You-

“I’ll make sure the next place we meet is somewhere special,” he finally says, voice smooth and gaze gentle and- 

And just like that, you’re a goner.

You’re not sure how long you sit there talking to him. Hours, probably. It feels like no time at all and forever all at once. You lose yourself in his gaze, and his smile, and you think the whole world could be burning around the two of you and you’d have no idea just because you’re so tunnel visioned on him. The music drowns out, and all you can hear is his voice. The people around you blur out of focus, and all you can see is him. 

It’s insane, you think. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You’ve had so many flings and so many boyfriends over the years, but the way your stomach twists and turns and the way your head feels fuzzy with Dazai is so incomparable to how you felt with anyone else. 

You feel like you’ve known him forever. 

You feel like you’ve only just met him. 

How is it possible to feel like you know someone you’ve only just met so intimately? When you know you don’t actually know much about him personally but it still feels like you can read into the depths of his soul?

God, you don’t know, but you do know one thing, and it’s that you never want to lose this feeling. 

And that’s how it began. 

Every Friday for weeks, you find yourself at the club, sipping cheap martinis at the bar until a certain handsome man in a dark suit decides to finally grace you with his presence. Sometimes, the two of you would just sit at the club’s bar until the sun threatens to rise, when you finally go your separate ways and you make your way back to your apartment, falling asleep with a smile on your face and waking up with a giddy feeling still sparkling in your chest. Other times, he only comes by the club to pick you up, fulfilling his promise of making sure to take you somewhere nice when you find yourself fine dining at the fanciest rooftop restaurants in the city. 

He never stays over your place, even when he does drop you off. Sometimes he’ll hang around for an hour (you made him your favorite hot chocolate, he liked it so much that he nearly cried although he vehemently denied that was the reason why his eye got all misty), but he always leaves. You try not to let it bum you out, convincing yourself that it’s just because he doesn’t want to keep his driver waiting (albatross, you remember his name, he’s funny. you like him), but sometimes you can’t help the heavy feeling set over you when he makes his abrupt leave, wishing for just a bit more. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, for god’s sake. 

You also distantly note that you don’t really know much about him, even after all of these weeks his personal life remains a mystery to you. The closest you were able to get to prying anything out of him was when he showed up so late that you were on the verge of leaving because you doubted he would even show, he apologized and said a work meeting ran late. You asked him what about and he hesitated, as if he was about to say it, but then gave you some vague response and steered the conversation to something less personal.

That’s what’s happened every time you try to learn a bit more about him. You don’t really notice it in the moment because he’s smooth and charming about it, but he always manages to turn the conversation to you or some other general topic. You want to respect that he doesn’t want to talk about his personal life because maybe he’s coming to you to have some sort of escape from it, but you also want to know him beyond just the flirting over drinks and the slim things you can gleam from his reactions, words hidden between the lines of what he actually says.

Your friends think you’re crazy. They think he’s bad news. They’ve come with you to the club a few times to wait with you until he shows up and every time they see him you can see the weary looks that they shoot at one another. You don’t care what they think—or well, that’s a lie, you do care what they think, you’re just too enamored with Dazai for their words to have any weight. Which probably should be concerning, but that’s something for you to think about another day. 

Because now, you’re focused on him again. He’s been talking more tonight than he usually does—most nights, he’ll spend the majority of the time just listening to you, a soft smile on his face and a captivated look in his eye, but tonight, he’s been rather vocal, people watching with you and making sly advances that you think is just plain cruel considering he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But tonight, you’ve decided, will be the night. 

You’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it, if you should just invite him back to your apartment—something you’ve done before, so there shouldn’t be any nerves but you still find yourself wavering because you don’t know how you’re going to proceed once you get to your apartment. You are not a seducer. You have no experience in seducing. In fact, you are usually the one being seduced. So every time your lips part to ask if he wants to leave the club, you find yourself withering and faltering, waiting for a ‘better’ chance as if one will magically arise.

It does. 

It’s when a fight breaks out on the dancefloor a bit too close to where you’re sitting, certainly the result of some sleazy man trying to put his hands on a woman who already has a date, when you finally force yourself to stop pussying out. You let out a shriek as you stumble forward off your barstool when one of the men careens a bit too closely to you, and it’s only by Dazai’s swift reaction, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him and steadies you, that you don’t go toppling onto the floor. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the fight escalate, a bit entertained now that you’re safe in his arms from becoming collateral damage, but Dazai looks distinctly unimpressed by the scene taking place a few feet away, lips twisted into a deep frown. You watch as he shoots a sharp look to one of the bouncers lingering by the door, and you note how the man immediately moves forward to break up the fight. Interesting. You’ve noticed that the people at the work tend to be respectful to him, but that’s the first time you’ve seen them seemingly take a silent order from him.

You steel your nerves and you decide to try your hand.

“Would you… maybe want to get out of here?”

You look nervous, Dazai watches you carefully as he leads you across the club to the exits, so he figures that there’s something else going on in your head right now. You’ve been quiet most of the night, he realizes, and he wonders if something is wrong. If something happened. His mind immediately catapults to the worst case scenario: that someone found out about the two of you, despite how careful he’s been in making sure that the places he’s brought you to were locked down by the Port Mafia before you arrived with him, and you’re being threatened.

His thoughts race. Albatross should still be waiting where Dazai left him, so if something goes wrong, he’ll be ready. Dazai glances at you again, and he slowly realizes that you don’t seem nervous because you’re fearful of something, and his anxieties slowly are edged away. 

But that only gives rise to new anxieties because then what’s making you so nervous then? What did you mean by get out of here? Do you want to go somewhere else? (but where, the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a risk there will be without him taking precautions beforehand like he usually does) Do you want to be dropped off back at your apartment? (that’s what he initially assumed, but he doesn’t want the night to end yet) Do you want to invite him to your apartment? (it wouldn’t be the first time, but it doesn’t leave him any less nervous. he’s terrified of making the wrong move) Do you want him to invite you to his apartment? (god, he hopes not)

The last option cannot happen. You’re already suspicious from the way the bartender and the other club patrons have been treating him the past few weeks, and now you’re doubly suspicious, Dazai can tell from the way your eyes squint as the bouncers at the entrance of the club nod their heads to him. If he brings you back to his place, the tallest of the five towers making up the Port Mafia base, there’s no way you won’t put together that something’s up with him and the last thing he wants is to scare you away. Even if you don’t know what the buildings are exactly, you’ll definitely question him about his occupation, go back to the dangerous line of questioning you’ve been treading on lately, and when he can’t give you a straight answer, it’ll become all the more apparent that it’s something shady and if you’re smart, you’ll make an excuse to leave and then never seek him out again.

Realistically, he probably won’t be able to hide this from you for long, but it just has to be long enough for him to woo you so the news isn’t so jarring that it makes you cut off all contact with him. Although, Dazai isn’t sure if any amount of time will make the knowledge that he’s a mafia boss not jarring enough to flee. His heart feels a bit heavy, wondering if this is all a mistake because how the hell is he supposed to just accept it when you inevitably decide to leave? And isn’t that what he should want, anyway? He wants you to keep yourself safe, no matter what the cost, and if you’re the one to cut him off, then he won’t be tempted to come looking for you again. He can protect you from the distance as he initially planned with the memory of the nights he’s spent with you pushing him forward. So maybe this is for the best.

You accepted all of the other Dazais, the traitorous part of his mind tried to convince himself that isn’t a hopeless cause, even though he knows that there’s a stark difference between who he is in this lifetime, the face of Japan’s underworld, drenched in blood and rotting from the inside out, and who he was in all of the other lifetimes, desperately trying to make himself a better man so that Odasaku would be proud of him. 

Maybe you’ll understand, he thinks weakly as the two of you leave the club. It’s drizzling now, and his eyes cut across the parking lot looking for Albatross, but his thoughts are lost—you understanding would mean he would have to tell you everything. He can’t do that. Not just because you would probably think he’s delusional, or psychotic, but because it would put the very fabric of this reality at risk. He can’t tell more people than necessary and stage five… 

His plan. 

Dazai’s gaze shifts back over to you, the sudden remembrance of what he’s been planning since he came in contact with the Book so many years ago spreading like ice through him. He should take you by the hand and lead you to the car, the rain is going to start coming down harder any second now, but Dazai is frozen because in his manic state, when he’d decided he can protect you in this life, be with you in this life, he hadn’t even given any thought to what would become of his plan, and he’s been so consumed by thoughts of you the past few weeks that it’s hardly crossed his mind.

He has to force himself to move forward, ignoring the way his mind is reeling—if he decides to live, what does that mean for Odasaku? For Atsushi and Akutagawa and Chuuya? For the world? Would he be condemning everything he’s worked to protect? He still thinks he can do it—protect you, that is—but would it be at the cost of everything else? He feels sick, trying to figure out if he’s going to have to plot out a whole new plan, as if this one hadn’t taken him years to come up with and implement. 

But you don’t move to follow him to the car where Albatross is waiting when he steps forward. Instead, you tilt your head up to the sky, lashes fluttering as rain begins to drizzle down from the dark sky. 

And Dazai’s spiraling thoughts halt. 

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re always beautiful, but he thinks there’s something magical about the picture of the small smile on your lips as rain drops slide across the smooth skin of your face. He tries to force himself to look away so he doesn’t seem creepy staring at you, but he can’t bring himself to.

You don’t seem to mind though, because you turn your attention to him, eyes lit up in a way that makes his heart race. “Dance with me,” you say suddenly, holding a hand out to him, the soft smile on your face is a bit mischievous now.

Dazai looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Here?” he asks, voice tainted with a hint of incredulity. “Now?”

“Mhm,” you say, unperturbed, holding your hand out more insistently. 

Dazai thinks he isn’t capable of denying you much of anything, but he can’t help but hesitate. Not because he doesn’t want to dance with you—he would sell what’s left of his wretched soul for just a single dance with you—but because the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a chance there might be an assassination attempt on him. Every time he goes out, he’s gambling his life. It would put you in danger, and it’s not like he brought Chuuya along for if something goes wrong. Albatross is capable enough, but his ability is not combat centric. 

Being seen with you in general could put you in danger, doubts begin to sprinkle through his head again, his heart lodged in his throat as remembers that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie aren’t the only threats to your life. He’s been as careful as he could be but even with all of the precautions in the world, there are still risks. He’s made new enemies in this lifetime, hundreds of them over the years, and if any one of them caught wind of you and his apparent attraction to you…

“If you wanted to dance, shouldn’t we have done that inside?” Dazai drawls instead, trying to play it off. Inside, where it’s significantly safer. Inside, where Dazai knows that there’s less of a chance of unsavory eyes falling upon the two of you because the club is owned by the Port Mafia and everyone let in is screened. Inside, where Dazai can still convince himself that he has the power to keep you safe. You’re entirely unbothered by his question, so he continues before you can shoot him down, “Where it’s not raining, and where there’s actually music.” 

“Haven’t you seen all of the romance movies?” you complain, smile widening. “Dancing in the rain is romantic, Dazai. Who needs music anyway? C’mon, dance with me.”

And how is Dazai supposed to say no to you when you look at him like that? Eyes wide and imploring, smile gentle—you look at him in a way that Dazai’s only dreamed of, and he knows that he’s a goner. Well, he’s known since he first met you, but it’s being made abundantly more clear right now with the way his heart, which he usually has such keen control over, beats rapidly in his chest. His lips part because he still wants to try to deny you—for your sake, not his—but no words leave them.

You don’t wait for his response anyway, hand darting out to catch his so you can drag him out into the parking lot. His eyes widen, stumbling forward and trying to catch his balance—you only laugh, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand finds his waist, spinning the two of you in a reckless circle. 

“Keep up!” you tell him with a smile that causes his breath to catch. 

Dazai thinks he might die. His head feels fuzzy as you lead him in a wide ballroom dance, sweeping across the vacant parking lot with ease. He thinks he must look like a fool being dragged along in your dance like a puppet, hardly able to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. 

He’s not sure how you’re able to keep yourself so graceful, heels splashing in puddles as you lead him through spins and turns and pivots, but Dazai thinks you’re beautiful. Again. Extraordinarily so, even. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, the drizzle quickly becoming torrential, and your hair is wet and matted to your face, mascara a bit smeared underneath your eyes, but you’re laughing, and Dazai thinks you’re divine. Heavenly. Too ethereal to be tainted by the likes of him and yet here he is, the putrid skin of his fingers intertwined with your untarnished ones. You raise your arm and his, beckoning for him to twirl beneath it.

He does, and it’s awkward and clumsy because he’s too tall to comfortably perform the move, but you giggle loudly so it makes up for the embarrassment. And for a moment, Dazai can almost convince himself that this isn’t a life where he’s been forced to let the dark consume him for the betterment of the world; rather, it’s a world where he’s gone unsullied by the dark, his blood still runs red and you’re beautiful and you’re alive, and he’s just a boy who’s fallen so terribly in love with a girl so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming when you return his interest. As he spins, he notices that his cheeks feel a bit strained and sore, and he realizes that there’s a smile on his face that matches your own, the muscles of his cheeks and jaw unused to stretching in such a manner and he hopes, anxiously, that it doesn’t look quite as unbearable as it feels.

If it does look unnatural, you don’t seem to mind. The rain blurs his vision and he’s forced to blink away the raindrops that keep falling into his eye, and for a split second, you’re standing before him in a pretty red dress on a sidewalk, and he’s the one leading you in the theatrical dance, dipping you down as lightning webs across the sky above the two of you, and he’s about to beg you for a kiss, he knows it but then-

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when you pull your hand back from his, but you don’t give him time to mourn the loss of your touch because then you’re slipping your arms around his neck, loose and casual. You’re pressed up close to him, chest brushing his and head tilted back so you can look up at him—a slower dance, swaying to the music of the wind and rain—and Dazai can hardly breathe. You’re so close. So close that he could kiss you if he wanted to. God, he wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks but every time he tries to gather the nerve to do it, he backs out.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, and he can barely hear you as thunder rumbles in the distance, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what you mean. You tap his temple twice gently, “Left me for a second there.” 

Oh, his throat feels a bit dry, realizing that you must’ve noticed when he started to slip back into the pages of the Book. Terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what you are, if you can read him that well after meeting him once a week for a few weeks, he dreads to know how well you’d be able to read him once you start spending more and more time with him. But would it be so bad? To have someone that knows him so profoundly? He’s so alone all the damn time in this world, and you’re giving him a taste of a life where maybe he wouldn’t have to be. It’s terrifying. Tempting. He forces another smile onto his lips, and this time your eyes narrow, as if you know this one isn’t as genuine as the last. 

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’s so close, he realizes again, hyper aware of the way his lips are almost brushing yours. He could kiss you if he wanted, he repeats, and he wants so badly but he doesn’t want to scare you away. “To leave behind such fine company.”

You don’t look content with his apparent attempt at avoiding the subject, and Dazai’s throat feels tight because it’s not really a conversation to have with you here. Now. Ever, really. 

For once, mother nature appears to be on his side, because before you can press on the subject, lightning strikes dangerously close to where the two of you are standing, making you jump, eyes wide. He takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you over to where he left Albatross earlier in the night. 

The car is already running, Albatross is leaning back in the seat scrolling on the phone and Dazai nearly commits an atrocity when he sees that the man has his gun laying haphazardly on the dashboard. As if Albatross can feel Dazai’s murderous intent, he looks up from his phone and his eyes shoot open when he sees you with Dazai and he scrambles to holster his gun back at his waist. 

Luckily, you don’t notice. Or maybe unluckily, because your attention is still fixated on him and Dazai is not ready to have that discussion with you because how the hell is he supposed to say “Sorry! Lost in some worlds that don’t exist, and just so you know, we almost got married in some of them! And just so you know, I got you killed in all of them!”

Yeah. That would go over well. 

Instead, he opens the door to the car for you, letting you hop in the backseat. He follows after. Albatross slides his glasses to the bridge of his nose, an unscrupulous smile on his face that instantly has Dazai suspicious. He hopes the man knows that no friendship with Chuuya will save him if he decides to purposely embarrass Dazai in front of you. 

“You’re back!” You recognize Albatross immediately, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. Dazai is almost jealous until he remembers that you’re still holding his hand. “You weren’t driving last time.”

Right. Because of the raid on one of the Scarlet Gang’s warehouses in Tokyo. A mission that Dazai definitely should have been more available for on the off chance that something went wrong, but he was far too busy indulging in you. In his defense, he had no doubts that the mission would go according to plan—the Scarlet Gang is dangerous, yes, and Kawabata is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s simply not Dazai.  

“D’aw, didn’t think you’d recognize me, doll,” Albatross grins, tossing you a wink. “Good to see you again too. You’re significantly more sober tonight, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit at the pet name, but he’s more focused on the way you throw your face into your hands with a groan, reminded of just how drunk you’d been the last time Albatross was playing chauffeur. You’re a messy drunk, he remembers fondly, he doesn’t remember ever seeing you drink in any of his other lives with you, and he feels a bit giddy at the thought that he gets to experience a side of you that the others never did. Even if he was spending half of the night holding your hair back while you threw your guts up, spluttering apologies through sobs and heaves. He would do it again. Without even the slightest hesitation, he would do it again. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” you ask, peeking one eye between your fingers to look at Dazai for confirmation. 

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to assure you that no, you weren’t that bad, because Albatross is speaking again. Of course. 

“You were pretty damn bad, doll,” he grins, and you groan even louder, leaning your body over to rest your head on Dazai’s bicep. Dazai’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat. “S’alright though, boss took care of you.” 

“Did he?” you ask with a teasing smile, eyes glittering as you look up at Dazai, who suddenly feels a bit embarrassed, but Albatross rescues him. 

Maybe he does deserve the vacation he’s been bitching about wanting. 

“Where to?” Albatross asks, putting the car in gear, gaze flickering between you and Dazai briefly. 

Dazai is about to tell him your apartment when he catches the sudden apprehension on your face. He hesitates and waits for you to say whatever you want to say, but you don’t, instead you let out a puff of air and let your eyes slide shut. 

“Where do you want to go?” Dazai asks you.

You still look uncertain, but then you finally say, “I was meaning to stop and get some groceries at the convenience store on the way home. There’s one a few blocks away from my apartment. I can just walk over there if you drop me off at my place though, it’s fine.”

As if. The idea of you walking anywhere so late at night makes his skin crawl, especially considering there’s been a rise of violent crimes in the city that the Mafia has yet to get a handle on. He needs to push for that to be taken care of if he has to worry about you leaving your apartment to wander around so late. He makes a note to himself to bring it up to Chuuya later. 

“We can stop there on the way there. It’s no trouble.”

Albatross gives him a look, as if he’s asking if the boss of the Port Mafia is really about to go grocery shopping with a civilian in the middle of the night, forcing the Mafia’s best getaway driver to be their chauffeur. Dazai only gives him a cold, sharp look in return—if you need groceries, then they’ll stop for groceries. Simple as that. In a life where Dazai thought he’d never even be able to look at you, the chance of doing mundane chores like grocery shopping with you is not something he’ll just pass by. 

He can pretend to be normal. If only for a little longer. 

Until he has to go back to the base, and his lungs are clogged with corrupted air, being slowly suffocated by his surroundings.

Until you figure out who he is, and he’s alone again, being consumed by the void in his chest once more. 

He hardly considers the fact that he’s going somewhere with you where his subordinates haven’t made extensive efforts to ensure that no one suspicious is around to see the two of you. 

“Alrighty,” Albatross agrees, backing down as soon as he sees the expression on Dazai’s face. “To the convenience store.”

Your eyes brighten, a smile lights up your face. “Thanks,” you say relieved, and Dazai wants to say that you don’t ever have to thank him for everything and that he’d give you the entire world if given the chance, but he thinks that might be a bit weird so instead he settles on just giving you a small smile. “I’ll make you the best hot chocolate of your life when we get to my apartment. Just wait.” 

Dazai’s chest feels warm. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Wait here,” you tell both Dazai and Albatross as Albatross pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and stops the car outside of your building. Dazai, who’d been about to follow you, pauses from where he’s ducking beneath the doorframe to step out of the car, looking at you and waiting for an explanation. “... My apartment is a mess… I, um, wasn’t expecting company. Let me just… tidy up before you come in. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dazai’s visible eye crinkles up in amusement as he sits back down in the backseat of the car and you immediately take off up toward the steps leading up to the second floor of your apartment, giddy and excited, grocery bag swinging and bumping against your hip as you make your way quickly up the steps. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first real crush, flustered and giggly, hardly able to hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. 

He’s just so… you don’t know how to describe it. Intense. But intense isn’t even the right word, because he’s not so intense that it makes you uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and that’s usually what you think of when someone is intense. Or maybe overwhelmed is a bit fitting, because you swear every time he sets his soft gaze down on you, your heart might leap out of your chest. Intense. Familiar, you don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone you’ve only met a few times your entire life.

Your fingers fumble as you try to unlock your door. One, two, three, it takes three attempts for you to finally slide the key into the lock, pushing open your door and stepping inside, free from the torrential rain and wild wind outside.

You sigh and rest your back against the door as you shut it behind you, eyes sliding shut. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

Someone important. 

Of course, you noticed how he was treated by the workers of the club—the bartender, the bouncers, even just the regular patrons. The restaurants he’s brought you to the past few weeks, they all treated him the same way. There were plenty of men there that were dressed in expensive clothes and held themselves highly, but none were treated the same way Dazai was.

Someone dangerous. 

You’d also caught a glimpse of the gun on the dash of Albatross’s car. (His driver, another point to note because who has a driver except very important people) Only three types of people have guns in Japan—military, police, and criminals, and you’re pretty sure he’s not part of the military or police force…

Someone you probably shouldn’t be so drawn to.

That should be enough to make you run. It really should be. You have no explanation or excuse for why you’re not besides the fact that you might not be as smart as you herald yourself to be. You shouldn’t feel giddy when he smiles softly at you, you should be nervous. You shouldn’t be longing for his touch, you should be avoiding it. Instead, you’re leaning against your door, smiling like an idiot after making him wait for you to clean up your apartment so you don’t embarrass yourself. 

Oh, you’re such a fool. But how could you not be with how he treats you? Tucking hair behind your ear, setting a gaze so soft on you that you think it might make your heart stop, dancing with you in the rain clumsily with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. How is it possible for you to reconcile the way the man acts with you to the way others treat him? Or maybe that’s just delusion speaking. It could be, honestly. You think if your brother was living with you, he’d be horrified, might lock you away for the rest of your life; you think your friends already want to put you in a psych ward and they’d only become all the more insistent if they knew half of the things you’ve noticed. 

But your brother left you and your friends don’t know, so nothing is stopping you from making what might be a terrible decision. 

You let out a breath as you push yourself off the door, placing down your grocery bags on the table by your door so you can scramble to pick up all of the stray clothes you’d tossed around your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit earlier in the night. You reach over to turn on your light, flicking the switch once, then twice, and then three times.

No way.

You sigh deeply, head falling back against the wood door of your apartment, knocking the back of your head against it twice in frustration. Letting out a irate puff of air, you push yourself off of the door and force yourself to get to work. It’s not the end of the world, hopefully it'll come back soon, the providers are usually quick with getting the outages fixed, even in your shitty area. 

You force yourself to move forward, frowning deeply as you scoop up all of the paperwork spread out on your coffee table, making sure to keep it all in order as you move them over to the desk you have by your window seat. You drop the pile down and cast your gaze out to all of the clothes strewn haphazardly around your apartment, cursing yourself for having been so messy earlier when you were trying on just about every outfit you own and then flinging them around frustrated when you decided they weren’t good enough.

You scowl as you bend down to pick them all up, deciding you’ll just stuff them messily in your closet and fold them later when you don’t have company. As you zoom around trying to snag all of the dresses and different pairs of bras and underwear scattered about, your mind races. Your stove should still work because your landlord refuses to install any modern appliances into your apartment, for better or for worse, so you have an old model that shouldn’t be affected by the outage. But you think it’ll be awkward sitting in the dark, you think you have a few candles stored away in your room—you’ll have to find them and set them up. 

Candlelit evening, how romantic! you think to yourself, a bit dreamily. You wonder if Albatross will be coming up to join the two of you in your apartment, you’d offered to make him a drink too but you figure it’ll be Dazai’s decision if he’ll be waiting outside or…

Or maybe, he’ll send him home. 

You get giddy at the thought—candlelights, slightly tipsy after a night out, you take a peek under your dress to try to figure out which underwear you’d decided on earlier and if you should change into a different pair but are delighted when you realize that you’d gone with your pretty red ones. 

You think he’ll like them. 

Hopefully. 

You like them, they’re your favorites.

Oh, you have to clean your bedroom too, you think to yourself in partial agony because you don’t know how the hell you’re going to clean up everything in there without making Dazai wait out there for an hour. You get anxious at the thought, worrying that if you take too long, he might leave, so you pick up the pace. You snatch the last stray bra hanging on the arm of your couch before taking off into your bedroom.

You hardly get a step into the room before you’re freezing in your tracks.

No way.

You stare at your bed, arms falling loose to your side, lips parted in shock. The clothes you’d cleaned up all drop aimlessly to the floor around you. Your bed is drenched with water—your sheets soaked, your mattress soaked, the ceiling heavy with rainwater from a leak you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out to yourself, unsure of what exactly you should do, never having had a problem like this before.

You think this is what you get, seeking out the cheapest possible apartment complex to stay in because you’re trying to save all of the money you have for school. Now, your mattress is ruined, your ceiling looks like it’s on the verge of collapse and oh my god, you left your laptop on your bed. 

A noise caught between a whimper and cry of frustration leaves your lips as you dive forward, fishing your laptop out of the massive pool of water flooding your bed. You hold it in front of your face between two fingers, watching as water drips from it down to the ground. 

There goes your laptop too.

You think you might be sick. 

Now, you have to deal with a landlord who is decidedly not helpful when it comes to issues in the complex and you have nowhere to sleep. Maybe you can call one of your friends to stay at their place, but it’s already the middle of the night and you know two of them have their own entrance exams tomorrow for the programs that they’re applying to.

Unless…

Your gaze shifts to the window in your room, looking between the blinds to see Dazai and Albatross still waiting outside in their car. 

Okay. Most urgent problem temporarily fixed. Maybe.

Dazai has a place. He has to. He’s clearly rich. It’s probably a much nicer place than yours too. You can go there, at least for the night. He wouldn’t just leave you with nowhere to go… right? No, of course he wouldn’t. You need to pack then, instead of cleaning. 

Okay, this is fine. 

It’s fine. 

It takes you about five minutes to grab a few spare pairs of clothes into the duffle bag laying at your bedroom door, occasionally tossing dirty looks at the leak ruining your bed. When you finish throwing your clothes in the duffle—unfolded and hastily, of course, they’ll be terribly wrinkled—you rise to your feet and swing the bag over your shoulder, making your way back to your door and grabbing your groceries. 

You don’t know what to say to him when you get back to the car. You’re probably being a bit presumptuous. Okay, a lot presumptuous—Dazai has never invited you back to his place, you’ve invited him to yours—but you don’t really have another choice.

You exhale as you step back into the rain, locking your apartment and making your way back down the steps to the complex’s parking lot. You don’t let yourself hesitate as you dart across the parking lot toward the car, fearing that if you take a second to actually think about what you’re doing—inviting yourself into someone else’s home!—you’ll probably back out.

You open the car door. You slide back inside, taking a seat behind the passenger seat. You drop your duffle bag on the floor between your feet and place your groceries back down between you and Dazai. You can feel both Dazai and Albatross staring at you. You stare ahead.

“... My apartment is flooded,” you finally say after a few moments.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, brows furrowing as he watches you. You can hardly bring yourself to look at him, trying to peek at him from the corner of your eye as best as you can without being too obvious about it. He’s not responding. Albatross isn’t moving the car. You’re getting the urge to bolt, to run upstairs and drown yourself in the puddle of water on your bed. 

Finally, Albatross clears his throat. “Boss?”

Dazai still doesn’t respond. You think you might be doubly sick now, and embarrassed. An awful combination, really. You know that he knows what you came back here hoping for, and you realize that he might just send you back to your flooded apartment instead because he obviously did not sign up for taking in some random girl that he’s met a few Fridays for the night because she has nowhere else to go. 

You finally turn your face to look at Dazai head on and you can feel that your eyes are glassy, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You don’t know how pathetic you must look for Dazai’s expression to shift the way it does, his conflicted expression crumbling as he turns away from you. You don’t want to know how pathetic you must look, you’d only feel even more humiliated.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally says: “Drive.”

Albatross’s eyes shoot open, he physically turns to look at Dazai, “But-”

You don’t catch the look that Dazai gives Albatross, too busy basking in the relief of having somewhere to stay for the night, but whatever it is, it makes Albatross turn back to face the wheel without another word, turning the car back on and shifting it into gear before pulling out of the parking lot. 

As soon as you’re on the move, you turn your attention back down to your phone, trying to figure out if you should message your landlord now or in the morning, dreading the inevitable argument you’re going to have with him. You fiddle with the device, occasionally sparing looks at Dazai, but the man is lost in thought next to you, visible eye distant and conflicted.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything so the whole drive to Dazai’s apartment is long and quiet. Even Albatross, who’s had no difficult sparking conversation the whole drive to your place, stays silent.

You’re bummed, all of the excitement you felt about bringing Dazai back to your place is long gone, feeling the stress of having to replace everything that’s been ruined by the leak and the anxiety of dealing with your landlord; all you want to do is sleep and die. Okay. That’s dramatic. But you’re exhausted and you really do want to sleep. Maybe not die, but definitely sleep. 

You lay your head against the window, eyes starting to droop shut, and you can feel Dazai glancing at you now but you can’t even bring yourself to look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes trained outside the window, only perking up when Albatross finally starts slowing to a stop.

And then, you’re suddenly not tired at all. Your eyes widen as he pulls to the front of the tallest of the five black buildings that tower over the Naka ward, lips parting as you crane your head to look up out the window and then look pointedly back at Dazai, stunned.

Dazai refuses to meet your gaze, staring ahead. 

… You think that your instincts about this man must be spot on. 

Too bad you’re not listening to them.

“You’ve gone crazy.”

Dazai’s gaze draws up from the paperwork he’s definitely not doing, far too preoccupied with thoughts of you; it’s cold and cutting as it lands on Chuuya. His executive enters the room without any type of announcement, his voice just as cold as Dazai’s expression—he supposes it’s testimony to how angry he is, because Chuuya is only frigid in his anger when he’s really been pushed to the brink.

Naturally, Dazai only smiles, a slow and taunting one that he knows presses all of Chuuya’s buttons from the way the man’s bicolored eyes flash with fury. Chuuya storms over to Dazai’s desk, making his way until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“How so?” Dazai drawls, folding his hands over his lap as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side questioningly. 

“How so?” Chuuya spits out, slamming his hands down on Dazai’s desk. Dazai raises his eyebrows and then lifts his chin, looking pointedly down to where Chuuya’s hands are splayed against his desk. Chuuya doesn’t flinch—of course he doesn’t, he’s Chuuya—but he does pull his hands back to himself, albeit snarling as he does it. “The hell are you bringing some random woman back to our base? Back to your room? Going out alone the past few weeks when you know you’ve got a bounty on your head higher than most world leaders? I was letting it slide but this is too far, why the hell is she here? You’ve gone crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai warns, voice quiet, expression growing a bit flinty when he brings you up. Dazai doesn’t care if Chuuya wants to rail on him for being reckless, but he’s not allowed to drag you into it. He decides to not acknowledge the comment about you, focusing on the end of his tirade, “I was with one of the Flags, I wasn’t alone.”

“Albatross isn’t cut out for that type of combat and you know it,” Chuuya snaps, glaring at Dazai. “If one of those bounty hunters came after you, you both would’ve been killed. What’s gotten into you? Never took you for the type to be this reckless. You get a taste of a woman’s c-”

“I said careful, Chuuya. Know your place,” Dazai repeats, voice icy. The warning is gone, only a threat remains—Chuuya doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Dazai to know where he was going with it, the way the man’s eyes darted over to Dazai’s bedroom was more than enough to confirm it. 

“Is this a goddamn joke to you?” Chuuya asks, keeping his voice low, his lips flat and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. You’ve always been so careful, more than anyone else. What the hell does one random woman have that’s making you risk all of this?” 

“I’m not risking anything,” Dazai tells him coolly, “and she’s not just some random woman.”

Chuuya’s expression shifts, brows furrowing deeper; Dazai can see the tiny cogs working behind his eyes as he thinks. He wonders if Chuuya has been drinking tonight, catching the pink hue to his cheeks and the hazy look coating his eyes. 

No wonder he’s so angry then, Dazai muses, he must have been out with Kouyou when he got word that Dazai left the base again without any protection detail and then brought someone up to his room who in Chuuya’s mind, could be an assassin for all he knows. 

Suddenly, the confusion clears and something closer to realization sweeps across Chuuya’s face. His gaze turns back pointedly in the direction of Dazai’s bedroom.

“That’s her,” Chuuya says, disbelief dripping from his tone. “The girl you’ve had Kouyou looking over for years. What the fuck, Dazai? I thought the whole point of having Kouyou look after her was so that you kept away from her.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya, only for a moment, because then his gaze drifts back to the door leading into his bedroom, mind drifting. He supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that Kouyou told Chuuya about it—Dazai wasn’t explicit enough with his orders, only telling Kouyou to ensure that Dazai himself never knew anything about her. Of course, the woman would bring it up to Chuuya, probably hoping Chuuya had some insight into why Dazai is so insistent on your protection. 

Chuuya didn’t, of course, but he guesses that only made the topic of you and Dazai’s apparent random attachment to you even more of an interesting topic for their wine sessions. Honestly, he’s surprised that Chuuya didn’t realize earlier that the girl he’s been seeing is the one he’s had Kouyou assigned to. Kouyou surely should have known by now.

You’re fast asleep by now. He got lucky because of how exhausted you were over the stress of the whole situation: he didn’t have to deal with the questions that he was certain would arise as soon as you caught sight of the Port Mafia base. You were all but falling asleep on your feet as the two of you stood in the glass elevator leading up to Dazai’s apartment, the penthouse in the centermost of the five buildings consisting of the Port Mafia base. Dazai thought he was about to have a heart attack when you swayed on your feet and ended up resting your head on his bicep, eyes drooping shut. You only managed a few sleepy protests as he led you to his bedroom, asking where he was going to sleep if you take his room (the fact that you worry about him when you’re even on the brink of falling asleep on your feet made his fingers tingle), but you gave in quickly at his insistence. 

He should feel some sort of pity, or sympathy, because he could see the weariness in your eyes and the fatigue plaguing your body. Dazai might not be capable of feeling pity or sympathy for most people, but if he could feel it for anyone, it would be you. But he does not, and it’s for a selfish reason, of course: your misfortune led to you turning to him for help, and the thought of that alone makes his chest feel light and giddy. 

Yes, he’s going to have to figure out some sort of excuse tomorrow for when you wake up and inevitably have questions—he is not ready for you to know about his position in the Port Mafia—but right now you’re sleeping in his bed and you’re relying on him for help. His fingers thrum against his desk, jittery with excitement, he almost forgets Chuuya is there until he hears the man let out a sharp noise of disgust at Dazai's apparent exhilaration. 

Distantly, very distantly, he knows this is bad. You’ve been smart and observant in every universe, you’re going to put together that something is seriously wrong—you were not supposed to come back to his place, but how was he supposed to say no to you when you were looking at him with teary eyes and nowhere else to go? The thought itself feels like sacrilege. 

“You know what we are and what we do,” Chuuya says, voice calmer now as he shakes his head and fishes a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his free hand before he turns to leave. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’re putting this girl in danger after the lengths you went to keep her safe. I don’t get it.”

He squints a bit as Chuuya’s words ring through his head. That’s what he had thought too, but he’s the last person to admit to Chuuya that he might be right. A cold feeling starts to set over him, spreading through his chest like ice. If he’s going to think about this realistically, you’re probably already in danger just from being around him. The likelihood of someone catching sight of the two of you the past few weeks is higher than he’s comfortable with, even with the precautions that he’s taken, especially with tonight outside the club and at the convenience store. The thought is terrifying, enough to immediately kill off the jittery excitement that had been running through his body. 

Dazai’s index finger traces the outline of his lips, his mind races. What does he do? If you’re in danger, he can’t just let you go back to your apartment and leave you undefended in a sketchier part of the city. His enemies will jump on it. They’ll target you. But he can’t just keep you here. It’ll be too risky, you’ll figure out who he is and what he does, and that’s not even considering the fact that maybe you won’t even want to stay. You might wake up in the morning and head to someone else’s place—you’d made a vague comment about not wanting to intrude and going to a friend’s house tomorrow but the thought makes his stomach twist a bit. 

God, he’s so conflicted. 

But the first thing to handle is making sure that you don’t go back to your apartment alone. The rest he can figure out later on—he has to decide if he’d rather try to keep you around the base and risk you figuring out what he does (god, he wants to keep you around) or if he should just send you off to a “friend’s” (he still stands by the fact that your ‘friends’ are shitty because what sort of friends leave their drunk friend alone at a bar with a stranger—even if he knows that he’d rather let the world burn than see harm come upon you, they don’t know that) with an extra protection detail. One that you wouldn’t know is there, naturally. 

But how does he make sure you don’t go back to your apartment after the leak is fixed? 

He thinks to himself, an idea coming to him swiftly. It’s a bit dark, yes, and he’s sure that if you knew, you’d run for the hills but… to keep you safe, he would do whatever it takes. Even if you’d hate him for it if you knew. 

But what you don’t know won’t hurt you. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says before the man can leave his apartment. Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, not turning to look at Dazai, but waiting for whatever he has to say. “I’m going to text you the number of her landlord… make sure he doesn’t get her apartment fixed any time soon. And let Gin-chan know I might have a guest for the next few days so she’s not caught off guard tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re a freak, Dazai.”

Dazai only smiles idly to himself, eyes sliding shut as he leans back in the chair at his desk, Chuuya leaves without another word, Dazai loses himself in thoughts of you. 

A freak? Yeah, maybe. In love? Definitely. 

Should he convince you to stay with him? The thought bounces around his head frantically. He doesn’t know the answer. The more careful part of him screams no, tells him that it’s too dangerous to keep you around. It’s dangerous for you, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk you’ll be of getting hurt. It’s dangerous for him, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk he’ll be of getting exposed,

But the less logical part of him, the one that’s consumed by the idea of you, and the chance he has of being with you, is much louder. 

You came to him, he reminds himself. You found him. He tried to be good. He did everything he could to stay away from you, but you still found him. And you chose to seek him out again. You chose to. It’s easier to blame it on you, convince himself that you brought this upon yourself, as if you had any idea what sort of sick and fucked up person Dazai really is, as if you have any idea what’s happened to you in every other universe because of him.

He can never go back to how he was living before meeting you; he can’t. 

You came to him. 

Why should he have to let you go now?

With that thought in mind, Dazai thinks the answer to his question is made abundantly clear. 

[ilovepaigebueckerss]

the other women.

word count: 886 (kinda short)

pairing: p.b. x reader

summary: After the live incident with Azzi y/n confronts paige.

pt: 2/3 (I think there will be 3 parts idk)

NOT PROOFREAD SO NTM.

i hope yall enjoy thiss. im gonna remake part 1 because it doesnt really fit with this part too well. i mean its good enough for yall to get the plot of the story but ykkk. SO SORRY FOR MAKING AZZI A BAD PERSON YALL ITS FOR THE PLOTTT🙏🙏 tried to do the lil picture thing evb be doing cs i thought it was cute how we feeling?..

-love gabby💋

3RD PERSON

Paige wakes up to an empty bed. She blinks rapidly trying to blink the sleepiness away. Wincing as she feels the hangover coming in. She notices the advil and glass of water on the bedside table you left for her. There was ice in the cup indicating the glass was filled not too long ago.

She doesn’t hesitate to pick up the glass and pills and takes them with one big gulp.

YOUR POV

Whenever you’re mind is too loud you usually vent to Paige and cry in her arms. You couldn’t do that this time so you went for a walk. You honestly had no clue where you were because you were so consumed in your thoughts you lost track of where you were walking.

Youre phone pinged snapping you out of your thoughts.

my fav blonde🖕🏻: Where are you?

You stared at the message not knowing if you should respond or not.

Just out for a walk.

You respond dryly trying to let her know you don’t want to speak to her. You hated confrontation so you didn’t know what you were going to do about the whole Azzi situation.

my fav blondie🖕🏻: Thanks for the advil and water, bug.

You stared at the phone not even realizing you were crying until you saw the tear droplet falling down your screen.

That damn nickname. She had given it to you as a joke when you first started dating and it’s stuck ever since. Whenever she called you it, a wave of comfort rushed through your body. Now it was just making you sad.

“You okay?” you hear a semi-familiar voice call out.

You look up quickly wiping your tears and see this girl from your psychology class. Her name was Addie or something like that.

“Yeah” you manage to croak out.

“You sure? Doesn’t really seem like it.” she says chuckling attempting to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. Thanks for asking.” You say smiling.

She smiles back. She was pretty, she had freckles and was brunette.

“Do you need a ride?” She offers still smiling.

“If its not too much of a bother.” You say embarrassed.

“Ofcourse! Hop in.”

PAIGES POV

Guilt is rushing through my body remembering the events from last night. It all happened so fast and it was a mistake.

my baby: omw home. 🤍 (hearted the msg)

my baby: got a ride from this girl

I smiled seeing her notification.

Theres even a video going around and im just praying y/n didnt see it. She could take it the wrong way. I would have to tell her eventually. She just cant find out through a video on social media.

FLASHBACK: AT THE BAR

STILL PAIGES POV

Azzi was being extra touchy tonight but I just assumed it was the alcohol. I mean she knows I have a girlfriend and she loves her.

“Paige, you look so good” Azzi slurs out running her hand down my chest.

I quickly move her hand off of me. “Thanks Azzi.” I say smiling. She puts her red solo cup up to her mouth “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight” I say grabbing the drink from her.

“Nooooo” She whines. I just laugh at her drunk antics.

She grabs my face and gets really close. “Never noticed how pretty your eyes were.” She says staring at my eyes.

I just smile awkwardly trying to get out of her grasp. Before I knew it her lips were on mine. I gently push her off me. “Azzi.” I begin. “Paige you know you want me just as much as I want you.” She cuts me off.

“I have a girlfriend. And shes the only girl I want.” I say sharply.

“This is bullshit” She spits, pushing herself off of me.

PRESENT TIME

3RD PERSON

“Thanks for the ride.” Y/n says smiling at the brunette. Who smiles back “Anytime.”

—

Y/n is fumbling with her keys outside of the apartment door trying to find the right one. Once you find the key she puts it in the lock and unlocks the door.

Paige immediately shoots up of the couch and runs to her girlfriend. “Hi babyy.” she says smiling and giving you a hug. “missed you.” she says in your neck.

The feeling of Paige’s breathe on your neck made you shiver.

“Hey.” You couldn’t help but smile, missing Paiges warmth.

You let go of each other and you wander off into the kitchen while Paige goes back to her spot on the couch.

“Hey can we talk?” You manage to say. Paige looks up at you and hums in response already knowing what you’re going to say.

“What happened last night..” You pause and clear your throat “With Azzi?” You say trying to hold back your tears.

“Y/n I promise it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Then what was it Paige.” You snap all your built up anger coming out. “Because it looked like the love of my life cheating on me with her BEST FRIEND.” You say emphasizing the last two words.

“Please let me explain baby.” Paige says, tears pricking her eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” You say coldly.

“You don’t need to explain anything I saw what I needed to see.” You say before Paige could open her mouth to speak.

You walk out of the door not wanting to make the situation worse.

—

thank you for reading mwahh!

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. Galavano by @ichorai

Bucky x Reader

a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!

2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs

Bucky x Widow!Reader

The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.

4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle

Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader

You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?

5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers

Bucky x Reader

The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.

6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue

Bucky x Therapist!Reader

Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.

7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy

Bucky x Reader

You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.

8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy

Sequel to it’s all fun and games

Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for... 

9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨

Bucky x Reader

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.

11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.

12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.

13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. 

14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian

Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader

It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story. 

15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint

Alien!Bucky x Reader

In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…

16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.

17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨

Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader

For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.

18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking

Pirate!Bucky x Reader

Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?

19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy

Mafia!Bucky x Reader

An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.

20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.

21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller

40s!Bucky x Reader

Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨

God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader

For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.

23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.

24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren

Bucky x Reader

After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.

25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.

26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.

27. Bygone by @borntobewondering

Bucky x Reader

You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.

28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.

29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill

Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.

30. Carnations by @viollettes

Bucky x Reader College AU

It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

[billskeis]

Hey so could you write a fluff type fox with either demon/ghost or vampire tom but like based off of In my room by ICP (insane clown posse)? Or other way around with reader being the ghost/demon/vampire creature.

Only if you’re comfy with it though!

(As always, ur one of my fav writers! Keep doing what you enjoy)💕💕💕

ᡣ𐭩 vampire bf tom

as you slipped yourself into your bed, you immediately got into the comfiest position that let’s you go to bed the quickest you can. drifting into sleep, you find yourself yet wide awake once more.

there’s tapping at the window, it’s him.

you’ve gotten yourself a visitor for the past few nights since you moved into your new apartment. living by yourself find you to be an easy target.

for someone who’s not human.

he introduced himself as tom kaulitz, and what’s totally weird about him was that he only ever came when it was dark.

you found it completely and utterly useless that he taps on your window because he just emerges from the dark corner where the moonlight was blocked out by your closet.

he was quite handsome you had to admit. black braids. a black bandana, black baggy clothes, the lip piercing that accompanies the side of his bottom lip was also black.

clearly there was a pattern here, but you didn’t mind. black was sexy.

the first night you met him you of course tried to knock him out assuming that he was an intruder and to your multiple failed events, heard him out.

he was a vampire, a lonely vampire who just sought out comfort in the night. he was talking about blood of course.

being that you kinda have a hero complex offered him to feed off you in order to make sure he doesn’t try to feed off other human beings and killing them.

he assures you though he would never go that far into feeding to kill someone, but you never know how true that is.

“hey doll, were you just heading to bed? i’m sorry,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, “no it’s fine.. just had a long day. work was rough.”

you got up from the bed and immediately brought him into your embrace, he hugs you back tight. letting go, he looks into your eyes and smile.

“you look awfully pretty tonight, such a shame you go to bed when you should be showing yourself off,” he caresses the side of your neck with his left hand, right on your waist.

his touch was cold, but in a way, comforting.

“you flatter me too much tom, hungry?” you ask as you lean your neck to the side a bit, giving him access to finally feed.

“m’ starving..”

the side of your neck throbbed, some part of it hurt, but it also felt good. you took pride in knowing that such a hot ass vampire would come to feed off of you and stay, listening to your promise of not feeding off others.

“you okay baby? i did take a bit more than i did last time..” you shook your head at him as you laid down in your bed looking at one another, “i’ve gone through worse,” “promise? “i promise tom.”

you took a braid into your hand and twirled it around your finger, you stared at the motion happening in your hands until you looked at tom who was attentively still staring at you, never breaking contact.

he reached out his arm to pull your body closer to his, the cool sensation of his skin is not akin to yours, but it just felt oh so right. the two of you basically hugged each other so closely, cuddling, limbs tangled together not wanting to be untwined.

you feel his breath onto your neck as his head rests in the crevice of it. he takes a sharp, deep inhale, clearly loving the scent you give off to him. you find it a little weird he does this but,

he’s a vampire after all.

“m’ gonna go to sleep tom, goodnight..” he kisses the side of your neck that he left a bite mark on, then caressing your back with the arm that held you together, “goodnight princess,” he said, his movements on your body allowing you to finally drift into sleep.

you wake up to the warm daylight of the morning with birds chirping, feeling around your bed you are met with emptiness. he’s gone, you don’t really mind it as the two of you solely know and are with one another because of a deal.

but another part of you wishes it could be something more, yearning for his presence once more.

you get up to do your morning routine and plan the day out in your head mentally, attempting to busy yourself as much as possible so night would come faster.

after the sun comes up, he makes his leave. it’s always been like this.. well, of course, sun is harmful to vampires and you weren’t able to prevent that from happening.

but if you had it your way, the fucking sun would be gone.

[a-kaash-me-outside]

the walls are thin - epilogue

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | epilogue [masterlist]

// proudly unpredictable and awestrukenly trusting ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 12504 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni omg even more smut, lots of fluff!, established relationships, seriously just a lot of fluff, we get to see all our favs, gatherings, party vibes, threesome, oral m!receive, throat fucking, oral f!receive, slight objectification but its hot?, afab she/her pronouns

a note from ♡ tori ♡: ah okay guys, i can't believe we're finally here. the END of twrt. i really didn't think that it would get this much love and all the interactions really just made me so happy and like would make my days, every week, all the time. tysm and ah, i can't wait for you guys to read THIS. it's like, ah, my fav. <3 <3 <3 can't wait to hear your guys' last thoughts on this silly little fic. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

ever since you woke up 3 hours ago, you’ve been an anxious mess. productive, sure, but still uneasy. even now, you’re tidying, moving about the kitchen, wiping down the counters, putting away dishes, moving with purpose, quick, short movements from task to task. 

“can ya stop pacing? it’s making me nervous,” atsumu calls from the living room, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he emerges in the archway.

“how are you not more nervous already?” you ask, not stopping a single bit, actually pacing more now. before it was a way of getting around between chores, now you’re heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to heel toe until you reach the edge of the invisible barrier between your kitchen and dining room and then you turn 180° and repeat the process again.

it’s much roomier here than the kitchen in your apartment. the distance between your 180s is much longer than you had the luxury of before. you’re grateful for that, more time to overthink before spinning around. 

you’re grateful for a lot of things in this kitchen compared to the last. the countertops are much nicer, shinier, easier to clean. the cupboards are roomier, don’t slam as loudly. the sink is big, spacious, with a spraying feature that actually gets the food off of the dishes. the stove has gas burners and there are two ovens instead of one really shitty one (though, those were a part of the non negotiable luxuries list you and atsumu came up with months ago). the fridge makes ice without having to fill the trays and the freezer has built-in shelves. 

you’re grateful for the little things scattered around the kitchen too, the things that make it feel like home. the electric kettle is a matte sage and it matches your tea green dishware. the two cacti on the window sill, the hanging flowers to the right of the sink. photos of you and atsumu and friends, stupid lovey notes, oikawa and iwaizumi’s save the date, all attached to the fridge with tasteful souvenir magnets. the notepad on the freezer door where you and atsumu write your meal plan for the week. a dry erase calendar sprinkled with events in both yours and atsumu’s handwriting. 

“hey, c’mon,” he says, walking over to you, reaching out his hand and wrapping it around your wrist gently to stop your repetitive motions. “makin’ me dizzy too.” he lets your hand fall as you stop, walking a few more steps away from him, deeper into the kitchen.

you huff, leaning your lower back against the cool countertop, heels digging into the tile floor as you cross your arms over your chest. “seriously, tsumu, how are you not nervous?”

he leans against the adjacent counter, palms gripping the edge, “what exactly are you worried about?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble, head tilting forward slowly, base leaving your spine, chin coming into soft contact with your chest as you take a deep breath. 

you can’t see atsumu as he moves towards you, too busy looking down at your feet, but his voice is close to you as he speaks, “yea you do.” it’s soft, knowing, but patient. 

“i just…,” you trail off. atsumu waits a few moments, trying to let you articulate whatever you’re feeling and wherever your worries are stemming from, but you look up at him and you’re not making any attempts to explain, so he tries to fill it in. 

“everyone will get along, i promise. i know it’s been awhile, but that doesn’t mean that-,” he starts explaining.

you cut him off, shaking your head, “no it’s not that…”

“then what, baby?” he asks, nudging your legs apart, stepping in between them until the outsides of his thighs are pressed against the insides of yours. he grips onto the counter on either side of your hips.

you speak, small and somewhat under your breath, “we haven’t seen everyone in too long, i just really want everything to go well so i can enjoy the night.”

“come here,” he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, smoothing his hand over your hair as he presses a soft kiss onto the top. you let him move you, embrace you, wrapping your arms around his waist and finally taking a much needed deep breath. 

you’re already feeling so much better, but he keeps explaining, “we get to see friends, some that we haven’t seen in years, all in one place, under this roof, our roof,” he pulls you back gently, kissing your cheek and then your cheekbones, “we own this roof,” he says, kissing you again and you giggle, “and we get to just hang out and play stupid games and catch up with everyone.”

atsumu steps back from you, interlocking his fingers with yours and spinning you around until your back is pressed up against his chest, swaying with you. “and we will play terrible music and feel so weird when two obscure friends talk to each other and we don’t even have to worry about stupid downstairs neighbors,” he says, spinning you back so he can see your adorable face again, watch the worry melt right off of it as he often gets to do because he’s so good at the melting, “and everyone will give us gifts, some really cool and some really bad, and we get to just have a really great night with everyone all in exchange for hours of veggie prep and hundreds of dollars in sliced meats and days of setting up and coming days of cleaning up.”

well, fuck, you can’t even remember why you were so worried a second ago. 

“we still have so much work to do before everyone shows up at 6,” you note, no longer hurriedly anxious but still aware of how quickly time seems to pass when you’re being smothered in kisses by atsumu. your eyes flick to the clock above the stove that reads 10:15 am, but you don’t move an inch. even after all of this time, you’re still painfully aware of how difficult it is to unravel from a comforting atsumu.

bzz bzz. atsumu sits up, kisses your forehead quickly, and then walks back to the living room where his phone is buzzing. well, maybe it’s not so difficult for him. you almost yell out a pout, but realize that this sudden interruption should probably be welcomed, allowing you to actually focus on getting the house perfectly ready. 

“hey,” atsumu says into the phone, muffled by the distance of being two rooms over now. “yea.” … “great!” … “okay.” …. “alright.” …. “okay. see you then.” …. “love you too.”

you scan your list of things to do, open the fridge to truly take in the quantity of vegetables and amount of side prepping you have to do, put the last dishes from the dishwasher away, and make a tiny note to remind atsumu to grab the mini burners from the basement. “who was that?” you call out. 

“god, it’s a good thing we did all the shopping yesterday, or you’d be an even bigger mess today,” atsumu says, popping into the kitchen again, jumping up onto your freshly cleaned counter. 

you throw him a look, eyes narrowed and jaw open in faux shock. “i literally just cleaned that,” you say, gesturing to the counter he is now sitting on, “also, i probably would be a smaller mess if someone was a bit more helpful.” you can’t help your smile as he shrugs his shoulders, playing along. just as you spent the entire morning cleaning the kitchen, atsumu had spent the entire morning cleaning the living room. the two of you both knew this. 

you walk over to him. “can’t believe i’ve had to do everything today,” you shake your head at him, smile even wider as he leans forward and kisses it. “in return, i’d like you to go downstairs and find those stupid burners and also bring up the extra tables so i can set them.” 

even amidst the chaos, clock ticking down with your to-do list still impossibly full, atsumu has a way of pulling you into these small moments. he always has, your entire relationship. it doesn’t matter what you were worried about, how you were feeling, what you were doing, he always creates space for you and him to just enjoy each other. 

most of the time, just like this time, it comes in the form of teasing and poking fun. “y’know,” you tack on, leaning forward and kissing him back, “because you haven’t really done anything,” you explain.  

he wraps his arms around your waist, leans back pulling you with him, kissing the side of your face, “oh is that so?” 

you squirm to get out of his arms, but he holds tight, laughing now as he continues to press kiss after kiss after kiss wherever he can reach. “yes! it is so!!” you yell, laughter making it nearly unintelligible. 

“right, the living room cleaned itself?” he asks.

you can’t stop laughing as you quip back, “magic, maybe.” 

he lets you go completely now and shakes his head at you. “just like the table is going to magically find its way up here?” he asks, tilting his head. 

you place your hands on his knees. “nope. that’s all you,” you tease.

knock knock knock. the fear creeps up on you quickly, all rational thought leaving in an instant as you worry about how much time could have passed, wrong information you could’ve sent out, unexpected people that it could be. 

the crooked smile on atsumu’s face combats it instantly. “it’s a good thing i recruited back up then, huh?” atsumu says, nodding in the vague direction of your front door. your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but atsumu doesn’t say anything else, nods in the same direction again.

you make your way to the front door, tip toeing on perfectly cleaned hardwood floors and over brand new decorative rugs. just a week ago, this place was filled with boxes and disassembled furniture. now, in their places are the trinkets that filled them and the put together pieces.

the front door doesn’t even have a chance to open completely before you’re jumping into his arms, squeak of excitement leaving you, hanging off of his neck. whatever he was holding in his arms is set gently onto the ground so that he’s able to reciprocate the tightness of the hug. 

you pull back, eyes wide and smile even wider before wrapping your arms around him once more and hugging him even tighter. you’re so enveloped in his embrace that you don’t hear atsumu approach behind you, only notice that he’s there when he scoffs loudly.

“what was one of the first things i said when you learned that he existed?” atsumu jokingly scolds. you pull away from your hug, half turning to see atsumu’s smitten smile and teasing head shakes. “i said that you weren’t allowed to like my brother more than me.”

you take a step back from the doorway, allowing osamu to actually step into the house. osamu reaches down to pick up his bags, one neatly packaged reusable kitchen bag and a just as neatly packaged gift bag. “that is somethin’ he usually has to say,” osamu says, looking in your direction, “when people meet atsumu first, it sets the bar pretty low.”

atsumu reaches forward to hit the side of osamu’s head, but osamu ducks out of the way like he’s been anticipating it from the moment the thought popped into his head. “besides, most people can’t help it,” osamu loudly whispers to you, smirking, “i’m just the better twin.”

“never shoulda invited ya,” atsumu shakes his head.

“but i’m so much help,” osamu replies, leaving his shoes neatly to the right of the door. 

“yea, you’re just in time to go get stuff from the basement,” atsumu points out, nodding towards the basement door down the hallway.

“oh, absolutely not,” you step in front of atsumu’s nodding, blocking the view to the basement as if to prove a point. “samu’s gonna help me in the kitchen because duh and also so he can tell me all about the onigiri miya drama,” you explain to atsumu, shifting your weight forward onto the tips of your toes and smiling huge.

“god, i made a mistake inviting you over to help prep, didn’t i?” atsumu asks, but you’re already pulling osamu by the forearm into the kitchen, loudly excited to tell him every little detail about your new kitchen.

“you remember the old kitchen, right?” 

“yea, of course, was kinda shitty.”

“i know, i know, but look! look at this, samu, 2 ovens.”

“gas stove too?”

“yea! works much better with the pans you got tsumu and i last christmas.”

“oh! do ya wanna see the housewarming gift i got ya?”

“now?!”

“why not?”

“then, yea! duh!”

nope. definitely not a mistake.

atsumu peaks his head into the archway with every intention of telling you that he’s heading to the basement and asking you if you could think of anything else that was down there that he needed to bring up. instead, he gets to watch this scene unfold, doesn’t dare to interrupt as you tear the tissue paper out of the bag, throw it onto the floor that you were so worried about moments ago, dig your hand around inside to feel for the contents, and then pull out a wooden box. “no way,” you say under your breath, turning quickly to set it down on the counter with excessive care. “my own?”

“come on, yn, every time you and sumu were at my place when ya came to visit, ya wouldn’t stop talkin’ about it,” osamu says, beaming, watching you closely as you gently pop open the latch. 

“yea but then i went home and tsumu and i looked up how much it was and then we couldn’t stop randomly bringing up how much you spent on a fucking knife for 3 weeks straight,” you explain, shaking your head. you reach down into the box, running your fingers over the engraving on the side and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears as you read it. miya. 

“i heard ya had a lot of veggies to prep,” osamu says, shrugging, “you’ll get enough use out of it today alone, i bet.”

“this is insane, samu, fuck,” you say, turning towards him and hugging him for the third time today already. “thank you so much.”

“of course,” osamu says, hugging you back.

“not really a gift for tsumu, though, huh?” you ask.

“the gift for sumu was how happy it makes you,” he replies without missing a beat, as if he actually thought it all the way through when buying it, saw the price tag, and took into account how happy his brother would be if he bought it for you. you can’t stop smiling.

the food prep flies by, not just because of your incredible new knife, but also because of the company. it’s actually been hours by the time you get everything washed, chopped, prepped, and plated, but the entire time was spent catching up on months worth of onigiri miya drama and the trips that you and atsumu had recently taken.

the second that the door to the basement closes, you lean in close to osamu, “so how is it going with that girl who keeps coming in right before closing?” you don’t have to be as close as you are to osamu to notice how flustered he gets instantly. 

“i’m gonna switch jobs with sumu,” osamu threatens, shaking his head as he brings packages of vegetables to the sink.

you follow right along. “evading the question is just going to make it worse,” you explain.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, evidently evading the question.

“the last you told me, she was still coming in and you were still staying open just to make her food,” you say, turning off the faucet so that he pays attention to you. “is that still happening?” he doesn’t respond. “you have to at least give me that!”

he sighs, turning his attention to you. “the second that atsumu walks up those stairs, you don’t say another word about this,” he says, finger in your face.

“deal! deal deal deal!” you say, nodding along. “is it still happening?”

“and,” he adds, “you let me wash the veggies while we talk about this.” you reach over and turn the faucet on again, smiling. he continues, “yes, it’s still happening.”

“have you told her that you like her?” you ask, not contributing a single bit to the prep that osamu is doing.

“well, i’m not 12, so, no?” he replies.

you hit his shoulder, “you don’t have to be 12 to have a crush on someone, samu. but, seriously, do you get that vibe?”

“probably just hungry after work or something,” osamu mumbles.

“so nothing has happened since we last talked that would make it seem like maybe she’s into you?” you ask, squinting at him despite the fact that his attention is solely on washing the bunches of broccoli.

you hear the sound of ascending steps from the basement, the door knob jiggle open, and you know osamu does too as he quickly says, “i mean, maybe the one time we were chatting until 4 am.” the door squeaks open and osamu raises his eyebrows at you and shakes his head. you will get this information out of him later. 

it’s not long until it’s just a few short hours of everyone arriving. the decorating is mostly done, the food is prepped in the fridge, the tables are mostly set up. you entrust the rest of the prep to the miya twins- which might be a terrible idea, you’ll have to see once you come back downstairs- as you go upstairs to get yourself ready.

“i will keep an eye on him,” osamu says, flinging his arm around atsumu.

atsumu instantly pushes osamu’s arm off of him, shaking his head and reaching to smack the side of his head again. “it’s my house!” atsumu yells, missing once again and then instantly trying to hit him again. when osamu keeps moving out of the way, atsumu jumps at osamu, sending the two of them flying backwards and into one of the tables that needs to be finished setting up. the table bumps against the wall and even from your place on the stairs, you can see the ding in the freshly painted wall.

atsumu and osamu look at the wall and then up at you, waiting to see how you’ll react and how much they should start blaming each other. you just laugh, “the first of many, i suppose.” and then you make your way upstairs. 

/++/

5:39pm and you walk downstairs, breath held because you’re not exactly sure what the state of the house is going to be in, but whatever expectations that you had are surpassed. everything looks exactly how you want it to look.

atsumu and osamu are standing side by side looking down at the large, mostly empty table where, in an hour’s time, your closest friends will be gathered, enjoying food and each other’s company. “i still think we should just set up the broths and vegetables,” atsumu says. 

your torn between pulling out the camera or committing this adorable scene to memory, atsumu and osamu in the same exact pose, arms folded across their chests, posture mimicked, head tilted to the same degree. you opt for the camera. it’s more replicable that way, more provable. 

it’s over all too soon, osamu bumping his shoulder into atsumu’s and shaking his head. “i told ya already, stupid,” osamu jeers, “if people aren’t eatin’ for another hour, there’s no need to bring em out yet. ya don’t even have to do anything, just hafta take the plastic wrap off of em.”

“yeah, but when we’re-,” atsumu starts to argue.

“yer wrong, just be wrong, sumu,” osamu interrupts. 

atsumu moves to hit him again, but you speak up, “we can just bring it out when everyone arrives and settles.” the two of them turn to face you and atsumu can’t help the smitten face that quickly takes over, doesn’t even have the heart to argue with you right now. “seriously, everything looks great, guys, thank you.”

osamu sends back a quick, not a problem that you don’t have a chance to reply to, because atsumu meets you in two quick strides, kissing the side of your cheek. “you look a lot less stressed,” he says against your skin and then moves to pull away. osamu, the most perfect man in the world who can read any room and react with impeccable timing, tells the two of you that he’s going to finish cleaning up the prep mess in the kitchen.

you place both of your hands on either side of atsumu’s face, pulling him to kiss you. “you’re really good to me, y’know that?” you ask.

“ya look really good tonight, y’know that?” he asks back.

you shake your head at his evaded question. you know that he knows that. you kiss him again. “don’t you have to get ready? people are going to walk through that door any minute.”

“yes,” he says quickly, kisses you once more, and is then bounding up the stairs, “i’ll be 10 minutes tops!” he yells from your bedroom. 

/++/

atsumu is the third person that shows up to your party and that’s not including you and osamu. the first person that shows up is maki at 5:58pm because, sure, he could’ve waited for those 2 minutes and shown up right on time, but that would’ve been 2 minutes that he could’ve been spending with you. he earns a hug just as hard as osamu, harder even, longer, despite the fact that you saw maki just last week when he helped you move in. 

“you’re early, y’know that?” you ask when you pull away. maki steps inside of your house as if he’s been there a million times, leaves his shoes right next to osamu’s and nods. 

“2 whole minutes,” maki replies, shrugging, “issei’s on his way and i’m sure oikawa and iwa will be late,” he informs you and you nod along. sure, maki had helped you move in, but he hadn’t gotten to see your house put together like it is now. he takes the liberty of exploring the rooms of the ground floor and you follow him around as you ask him how his drive was. 

when you make it into the kitchen, excited to start rattling off everything about it that you love, osamu is in there casually on his phone. osamu and maki had met before, several times. it was inevitable, really, the most important person in your life other than atsumu and the most important person in his life other than you knowing one another. and you’re grateful for the fact that you don’t need to introduce or entertain the two of them as they instantly start a conversation because someone is already at the door and atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

the second person that shows up at your party is kita at 6:00pm on the dot. you know everyone that’s coming to the party, but you know kita the least and yet, the second that he starts talking, you feel like you’ve known him forever. you’ve only really met one other time, but kita steps inside and tells you how gorgeous the entryway to your house is and hands you a small gift and you understand very quickly why atsumu and osamu have raved about this person for years. 

atsumu makes his way downstairs, quickly and haphazardly and almost falling on his ass, at 6:14pm. he just barely beats out sakusa and hinata who show up together at 6:15pm. in fact, he’s there to greet them at the door with you. they’re the first people that you greet as a couple and it, along with the soft chatter in the kitchen from osamu, maki, and kita, is making the night feel very real. 

sakusa and hinata don’t need any introductions or hand-holding. even though they have never been in your house, they make themselves feel at home, walking in and leaving the two of you in the doorway as they explore. “this is crazy, right?” you ask atsumu, unable to focus on one conversation that’s happening and it’s filling you with a joy that is unmatched. 

he answers by pressing a kiss into your forehead and nodding down the hall where hinata is touching something that he maybe shouldn’t be and sakusa is scolding him, something about how he’s so glad bo isn’t here yet. you can’t help but laugh, taking a single step in their direction before the next person is knocking on the door. 

issei shows up at 6:16pm. he’s the first person to say the word, congratulations! to the two of you and it feels warm on your mind and in your chest. “maki’s already here, right? he said he was coming early to see you,” issei says, peering down your hallway.

“two minutes, issei,” you say, shaking your head, “he was two minutes early and it’s a good thing too, because i haven’t been able to spare anything other than those two minutes.”

“ah, there’s that college you,” issei jokes, pulling you in for a hug, “i knew it was in there somewhere, that interesting mixture of super stressed and in love with atsumu.” you narrow your eyes at him, but can’t get a comeback out as he continues, “where’s kawa and hajime, anyway?”

“come on,” you check your imaginary watch, “it’s still practically six o’clock.”

“true, but iwa did say that he was really going to try to get oikawa here on time,” issei notes as you shut the door behind him.

“and i’m saying that even really trying, there’s no way oikawa shows up before 7pm,” you shoot back and pull issei into the direction of the kitchen. you make quick eye contact with atsumu who gives you a warm smile and gestures towards the living room, making his way over there as soon as you return an affirming nod. 

“i know you’re right, but sometimes i just want to have faith in them, y’know,” issei says, the two of you entering the kitchen. maki immediately (and politely) leaves his current conversation to join you guys when he sees you. 

“who?” maki asks, quickly and very nosy.

“hajime trying to get oikawa here early,” you reply.

“oh, there’s no way that oikawa shows up before 7pm,” maki says matter-of-factly.

you grab onto his shoulder, nodding with your whole body because it’s really nice to have someone in your life who understands you as much as maki does. “that’s what i said!!!!”

the three of you catch up as much as three people who are in four different group chats and who talk to each other every day can catch up with one another. it is different, though. you hadn’t seen issei in months and maki hadn’t seen him in almost as long as you and you feel like you’re back in college in the best way possible and you really wish oikawa and iwaizumi were here.

you’re so immersed in your conversation that you actually don’t hear the door open. instead, you hear the voices traveling from the foyer, through the halls, and to the kitchen at 6:43pm.

“i don’t think you’re supposed to just walk in, rin,” you hear a familiar voice at the front door. 

“well, then, maybe they should lock their door, aran,” you hear a different familiar voice reply.

you excuse yourself, walking to go greet the two people at the door. atsumu beats you to it, practically running down the hallway and pulling aran and then suna into a half hug. “yo, careful, atsumu, geez,” suna pokes, but hugs him right back. “you’re gonna break whatever this gift is.”

“how do you not know what it is?” atsumu asks, grabbing the large bag from him.

“because rin just asked if we could get something together so he wouldn’t have to go shopping,” aran says before suna could offer any sort of bullshit excuse. suna doesn’t deny it then, only lets a knowing, lazy smile creep onto his face. 

“yea, guilty,” suna shrugs, “but to be fair, it was really expensive, whatever it is.”

aran nods, “it was really expensive.”

atsumu shakes his head, “you guys really didn’t hafta get us anything.”

“i mean, if it was just you, we wouldn’t have,” suna explains, looking passed atsumu and walking towards you. “thanks for havin’ us.”

you are pulled into two more hugs. you should have been keeping count of the amount of hugs you’re giving out tonight because the number is definitely getting up there and you’re not sure that it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“of course,” you reply, “thank you for whatever this really expensive gift is.”

“yea, whatever it is,” suna laughs.

you rest your hand on aran’s shoulder, “kita’s already here and osamu’s been here all day.”

“what? where was our all day invite?” suna asks.

“we’re literally here 45 minutes late, rin,” aran says, face unphased but voice questioning.

“yea, and you wouldn’t have helped,” atsumu tacks on.

“alright, yea,” suna says and the four of you walk into the kitchen. you note in your head that another thing you’re very grateful for about this kitchen is how much bigger it is than your last one, the open connection to the dining area granting the ability to fit everyone without having to worry about being too cramped. 

you note the different groups of people forming, the different conversations that are taking place. you’re still playing host right now, walking from group to group and adding a few words or giving a side hug or asking if anyone wants a drink.

“who else is coming?” aran asks when you interrupt his conversation with kita and sakusa.

“oh, my friends, oikawa and iwaizumi, and then bo, i think, right?” you answer and ask atsumu across the room.

“yup,” atsumu nods, returning his attention to the conversation that he’s having with issei and suna. 

“oikawa and iwaizumi are usually this late, but i’m not sure why bo is so late,” you say, thoughtful, but then shrug your shoulders. as if on cue, there is a knock at the door. “oh! that’s probably him.”

you rush over to the door and are very surprised to see oikawa and iwaizumi at 7:02pm. “i’m sorry that we’re late. i really tried this time,” iwaizumi says, looking at oikawa with a death stare rather than you with an apologetic one. you laugh, shaking your head. you hug them both, one arm around each of their necks as you squeeze them tight.

you hadn’t seen them even longer than you hadn’t seen issei, almost an entire year. sure, you kept in contact all the time, but you hadn’t physically been able to hug them and see them in far too long. they had just been much too busy with life and travel and wedding plans and life. “‘ts fine, but you’re staying later to make up for it,” you reply, still not letting go.

“oh, we’re staying in town for a few days, actually,” oikawa smiles, “surprise?”

“oh my god!” you say, indeed surprised. “that’s incredible!”

“yeah, atsumu helped us set the whole thing up the second we even made a mention in passing,” oikawa explains. 

“guess that’s why kawa thought it would be okay to be the last people here?” iwaizumi says, evidently still playfully bitter about the fact that oikawa made them late again.

“actually,” you say, “not the last people to get here. somehow.”

“dammit! no way?” iwaizumi says in disbelief. you’re about to question why that’s such a bad thing, but oikawa’s sweet smile contorts into mischief and told ya so. 

“ha! pay up! i told you, hajime,” oikawa says, poking his finger into the side of iwaizumi’s cheek.

“ridiculous,” iwaizumi shakes his head, “who else?”

“oh, just bokuto. i’m still really not sure why he’s so late. i thought you guys were him,” you reply, shaking your head. “i’ll send him a text-.”

“hajime,” oikawa says monotonously, cutting you off, “pay. up.”

“what? not here?” iwaizumi says, shaking his head, eyebrows furrowed like oikawa has just asked for something he should not have. knowing oikawa, he probably did exactly that.

“yes, here. pay up!” oikawa says, nodding back in the direction that they came from. you tilt your head curiously, wanting to ask questions, but just letting whatever is happening unfold.

“absolutely not,” iwaizumi refuses.

“no, because i said that-,” oikawa starts, finger in iwaizumi’s face once again.

“okay, okay, fine,” iwaizumi gives in. you’ve known the two of them long enough to know exactly what’s going through iwaizumi’s brain. there were times before that he didn’t give in to oikawa as quickly as this, but all three of you know that when oikawa starts droning on about whatever he said, it never ends in iwaizumi getting his way. 

“it’s in the car,” oikawa smiles.

“i’ll be back,” iwaizumi grumbles, turning around and then he’s gone again. 

you choose not to ask any questions because oikawa is not responding to your very confused face and instead starts asking you about your new home. you only get halfway into a partial conversation when iwaizumi shows back up at the door, shaking his head, sighing heavily with a white t-shirt that reads oikawa was right. “perfect,” oikawa says, placing his palm against the words and patting softly. 

he walks down the hallway on his toes, swaying back and forth proudly, “issei, come look at this stupid fucking shirt that hajime’s wearing!” within seconds, issei appears in the hallway, attacking oikawa with a hug and then pointing at iwaizumi, shaking his head and laughing. maki follows behind with less force, but all of his composure vanishes the second he sees the shirt. 

“god, i can’t believe i get to marry that idiot,” iwaizumi says softly and you know that if anyone else were standing here with him, he wouldn’t have let it slip out into the air, but he knows that you get it more than anyone. 

once everyone is settled, back into small groups conversing, you take out your phone to shoot bokuto a text message to at least ask him where he’s at. he responds in seconds.

> bokkun ♡ /  7:14 pm> SORRY. walking up now ♡♡♡♡♡♡

“well, well, well,” you say, clicking your tongue as you open the door. you’re there before he’s even knocked. “you’re very late, bokuto.” 

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry,” he says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into an enveloping, warm, tight hug. “but i have a good reason?” he says as he steps back.

emerging from behind him is akaashi with an almost embarrassed, sheepish smile.

“oh my god! i haven’t seen you in so long! ah!” you say, greeting him with a hug as well. it’s less warm, more friendly than bokuto’s, and you can feel how nervous he is. you met akaashi a few times before and really hit it off. he was easily one of your favorite people even though you’ve known him much less than some of the other people at this party. but he didn’t live in the area and neither of you were very good at keeping up with each other.

“i’m sorry i dropped by uninvited, but bokuto said that it would be okay and-,” akaashi smiles apologetically. 

“of course it’s okay!” you say, pulling him inside. 

“well, okay, i didn’t bring kaashi so that you would ignore me,” bokuto says, stepping inside on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“me? ignore you? come on, you’ve gotta be joking,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically hanging off of him. “tsumu!” you yell excitedly, walking as quickly as you can with bokuto attached to your hip into the living room where everyone has migrated, “bo is here!” you emerge from the hallway. “and look who he brought!”

you’re so excited to start introducing anyone who doesn’t know akaashi to akaashi because everyone loves akaashi, but just as you’re about to start pointing everyone out and giving names to faces, akaashi speaks, soft and timid in this room of so many people, but clear nonetheless. “samu?”

osamu’s head swivels around quickly, following that voice that he evidently knows so well, because the word is already coming out of his mouth, before he’s even made eye contact with him. “keiji?” there are conversations still happening, people still chatting, but a few of them stop, and most importantly you hear it and notice it. 

“you two know each other?” bokuto asks, surprised and excited all in one.

for you, it’s more about figuring out what’s happening than being excited and happy that they already know each other. “you two know each other that well?” you question.

osamu turns away, tilts his head down to the floor and clears his throat, but akaashi isn’t that quick. you watch the blush spread across his nose and cheeks.

“yeah, i work near onigiri miya and i usually stop there after work,” akaashi explains, “samu- er, osamu is usually kind enough to let me stay and eat while he cleans up.” 

it all clicks.

you can’t stop the expression from creeping onto your face. the warning glance that osamu sends your way is just more proof of how heavily it’s showing. you have so many questions, need so many answers, at the very least want some sort of confirmation that you are as right about this as you feel and akaashi gives you just that.

he laughs, light and airy, and you can see the effects that it has on osamu. “just the other day he let me stay until like,” akaashi lowers his head, slightly embarrassed, “i had a really annoying day at work and he let me hang out in the restaurant until like 4 in the morning. and you had to be in at like 9 the next day, didn’t you?” he asks osamu.

“oh, even earlier, actually,” osamu teases back, “like 7 or something ridiculous.”

akaashi shakes his head, tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and exhales, “i’m not even going to make any promises that i won’t do it again.”

“well, i would never ask that of ya,” osamu says and you can feel how genuine it is and it’s not even pointed at you. 

atsumu shoots you a questioning look, very aware of the silent exchanges between you and osamu. you shoot him back a wide-eyed, excited expression and mouth the word, later to him. atsumu nods back at you, gives you a quick thumbs up, and then continues talking with hinata, sakusa, aran, and suna. 

osamu and akaashi practically don’t talk to anyone else that night, moving over to the quiet corner of the living room. osamu takes it upon himself to drag him into the kitchen, to grab him a drink, to ask him about work, and to tell him that he looks really nice tonight. 

“it’s just because i’m actually freshened up,” akaashi reasons.

“no way.”

“yes way. you usually see me after an 8 hour shift.”

“or maybe it’s just because i always think it, but we’re finally outside of my restaurant and so i can say things like that.”

a pause. “well, i think you look better in your onigiri miya shirt.”

“oh is that so, keiji?”

“yeah. you look good in black.”

“well, i’ll have to keep that in mind.”

now that everyone is here, you’re leaving host mode. everyone is settled. everyone is having their own conversations. everyone looks like they’re genuinely enjoying themselves. you scan the people, the different groups that everyone is forming and then reforming. it’s weird, but deeply moving, to see every single facet of your life come together like this. people that would have otherwise never have met, all together in the same room. interactions that you never could have predicted, going really well. and all within these walls, your walls. 

everyone eats and everyone laughs and you get to show off your new knife to everyone and halfway through the night, atsumu pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, and you know that this night was meant to see everyone and mingle, but you’re not sure that you want to move from this very spot for the rest of the night and neither does he. in fact, he orders osamu around from his place at the table, telling osamu to clear the table and to grab the game that’s in the cabinet of the tv stand. 

osamu doesn’t want to listen, really, he doesn’t, but akaashi starts walking towards the tasks before osamu can refuse. akaashi helps clear the dishes and laughs when atsumu starts yelling at osamu for making akaashi do his work and before you know it, everyone is at the table and all of the dishes are in the sink and the food is put away and there is two stacks of cards in the middle of everyone.

“game’s real easy, even samu can play,” atsumu explains, nodding towards the colorful cards. osamu doesn’t even bite back, just seems happy to be sharing a bench with akaashi. “someone draws a question card and they have to answer it or drink unless someone at the table uses their veto card which they can accrue more of by doing the dares in the other card pile, got it?”

everyone nods. “honestly, we’ve never played with this many people or this many veto cards, so it should be interesting,” you say.

“so, basically, no one is getting out of not answering a question,” sakusa replies.

“that is definitely what that means,” aran agrees.

“alright, atsumu should go first,” osamu says, “it’s only fair.”

“fine, fine,” atsumu says, waving his hand, grabbing a card from the pile, “who is the worst dressed person in this room?” he reads. “okay, actually, a lot of them are like this and there are a lot of people here.”

“well, are you going to drink or answer it?” kita asks.

“you gotta answer it,” hinata says.

“well, someone would be stupid to use their veto on this anyway, because it’s obviously iwa,” atsumu answers quickly, shaking his head and throwing the card down. iwaizumi nods in agreement as oikawa stands up in his seat.

“hey! that shirt is the best piece of clothing hajime owns!” oikawa says.

plenty of insults fly across the table as the game continues. atsumu wasn’t lying. a lot of the cards are very similar in nature, just calling out people in the room for various things like being a bad kisser or still being caught up on an ex. no one even has to use a veto card. they’re all harmless enough, poking fun and joking around, or no one cares enough to force someone to answer.

until it’s your turn.

you reach forward, getting out of atsumu’s lap for just a second to draw the card before he’s pulling you back into him. you and atsumu read the question at the same time, but atsumu reacts much quicker than you do, laughing loudly. if he had been drinking something when you pulled the card, he would have made a huge mess.

“what does it say?” maki asks, nosy, trying to peer over your shoulder and at the card before you read it.

you move away from him, cheeks warm, hoping, praying, if there’s a god out there, that no one uses their veto. you move your hand, ready to drink already as you read, “if you could have sex with any of your partner’s friends, who would it be?”

the only people in the room that aren’t laughing are akaashi and kita and even they are giggling and wide eyed at the question. “i’m drinking,” you say, already bringing the cup to your lips.

“not so fast,” oikawa says, slamming his veto card down on the table, “i’m sure i’m not the only person who would have done this anyway. and besides, i can use hajime’s card later if i need it.”

“no, you will not,” iwaizumi scoffs.

“fine, then you want me to take my card back?” oikawa asks.

“no, obviously not, i want to know yn’s answer,” iwaizumi laughs, directing his attention back to you. in fact, everyone’s attention is on you.

“i don’t think this question was designed to be played when every one of my partner’s closest friends are in the same room?” you challenge.

“tough shit, answer the question,” suna says, pointing his finger in your direction.

“right, and to clarify, that doesn’t include people that used to just be your friends like iwa and maki,” issei says, “because then obviously we know your answer would be me.”

you shake your head, ignoring his comment and taking a deep breath, “this is so stupid.”

“come on, ya gotta play the game,” osamu jeers.

atsumu squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss into the back of your shoulder, “yea, babe, you gotta play the game.” you turn your head and narrow your eyes at him. 

“ridiculous that the first thing you two agree on is making me answer this in front of everyone right now,” you scold.

“just get it over with,” atsumu teases, “it’s not hard. even i know it.”

“no you don’t,” you scoff. 

“so there is someone on your mind right now?” maki says, leaning forward as if that will make the answer come faster.

“i-,” you start, but anything that you could think of saying would just dig this hole deeper. “well, i-.”

“come on, just say it,” sakusa pokes.

your eyes flick over to him quickly, face burning, absolutely radiating heat now, you’re sure. and you’re sure that everyone can tell how flustered you’re getting, because there is an obvious answer in your mind, one that’s been in your mind since the moment you met him.

“obviously, it’s bokkun,” you mumble and atsumu, true to his word, does know it. he says the name right alongside you, laughing at how perfectly the syllables align. you and atsumu seem to be the only two people at this table that are expecting this answer because the rest of the table is in an uproar now. symphonies of what?!?!?! and bokuto?!!?! and what about me?!?? arise in stereo. 

“me?” bokuto asks, floored and flustered in a way that affirms your answer perfectly. you’re feeling just as shy as before and everyone is screaming around you and at atsumu and each other and bokuto, but you offer a small nod to bokuto, just to bokuto, and you watch him attempt, and fail, to hide a smile.

after everything calms down, you’re able to play a few more rounds, thankfully not getting any other question that tops that one, not even when you get the question that reads, was your ex good in bed? and you answered a quick yes and then pushed forward. 

the clock is ticking down, the night is getting later and later and as the game is packed up and put back in its safe place beneath the tv, people start to trickle home. hinata and sakusa, issei, kita, aran and suna. you offer goodbyes and thank you for comings and when you walk oikawa, iwaizumi, and maki to the door, you say a very sincere, “i don’t want it to be this long until we do something like this again.”

“come on,” oikawa says, shaking his head, “hajime and i are getting married in less than two months.” oikawa lifts his hand, showing off his dainty ring as if you forgot that they were engaged. 

“shit, it’s already that close?” you ask.

“yea,” oikawa nods along, smiling, “most of those dumbasses are invited too, so, it won’t be long, i promise. it’ll be louder, and i’ll be the happiest i’ve ever been, but it won’t be too long.”

you nod, hugging oikawa tightly and then iwaizumi and then maki. “seriously, thank you guys for coming.”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world,” maki says, smiling, “i’m crashing your guys’ lunch tomorrow, so i’ll see you then.”

“obviously,” you reply, locking the door behind them once they’ve left.

the only people left in your living room that don’t live there are bokuto, akaashi, and osamu. before you can make your way back in there, atsumu grabs your forearm and pulls you into him, kissing you hard, hand cupping your cheek, fingers scratching over your jaw. 

“what was that for?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“because i can,” he shrugs, and you take that as an okay to start to move again, but he holds you in place, “and because look at this house we own together, isn’t that crazy?”

you laugh, “yes, yes it is.” you wait to see if there’s anything else.

there is.

“and because i trust you more than anything in this world.”

you cock your head. “okay…,” you say, hesitant.

“and if you want to have sex with bokuto tonight, i would be okay with that,” atsumu finishes, proudly unpredictable and awestruckenly trusting. 

you physically have to jump back, unable to process that sentence any other way. “what?!” you ask, loudly, and atsumu can’t stop laughing, shushing you and shaking his head. “no! what?! why would you say that?”

“because i’ve known that you’ve wanted to fuck bokuto our entire relationship and if you want to ask him if he wants to spend the night with us, that would be okay with me,” atsumu says, calmly. way too calmly for what’s coming out of his mouth, you have to admit.

you don’t know what to say. you can barely think or understand what he’s saying, let alone how to respond. “with us?” you ask for clarification.

atsumu nods, “i’m sure he will not be difficult to convince if that’s what you want.”

you’re afraid to ask it because you’re afraid that all of this is just some elaborate joke. or, rather, you’re afraid for only a second after thinking it, because atsumu doesn’t surprise you anymore. he squeezes your forearm, looks you directly in the eyes as you ask, “and it’s something you want?”

“i offered, didn’t i?” he asks back and you nod.

“okay,” you say, nodding again. “i’ll ask him.”

it’s easy enough to pull bokuto aside with osamu and akaashi being as involved in their own conversation as they are. you don’t really know how to approach it, not completely. how do you just ask someone that? but the second that you pull him into the kitchen and away from the few people that are still in your house, he exhales and steps close to you. and it’s not anything that you’ve said all night, it’s just how he’s always acted around you. 

you lean against the counter and he follows, shaking his head and standing right in front of you. “you’ve got a lot of cool friends, y’know that?”

“oh, yea,” you nod, punching his shoulder and then poking your finger into the middle of his chest, “the coolest.” he laughs and you can feel it against the tip of your pointer finger. you can hear murmuring in the living room. it fills up the comfortable spaces of silence. you look up at bokuto, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t really know how to ask this,” you say back, softly enough so that the people in the other room can’t hear your murmur.

bokuto tilts his head, “what’s up? is everything okay?”

“no, yea, really great,” you say, nodding and then you take a deep breath. just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it. “would you,” you say, you curl your fingers against his chest, “want to spend the night?”

the first emotion to come to the surface is excitement and then quickly after that confusion hits bokuto’s face much harder, like his mind filled in the blanks, but didn’t let himself get his hopes up. “like…,” he trails off, hoping that you’ll explain further without him having to ask.

you reach forward and tug on his forearm, coaxing him closer to you. “like…,” you say, heart beating violently against your chest. you try to evade his gaze, head down, focusing on the feeling of his soft skin against yours, nails scraping against it eliciting a tiny shiver from bokuto. 

he reaches down, places his finger beneath your chin, and tilts your head upwards. “like?” he asks, eyes evidently flickering down to your lips. it couldn’t be helped, the way your tongue swipes against your lips and your breath catches in your throat. you just nod. 

before his lips meet yours, you both talk at the same time, overlapping one another, but hearing the other perfectly.

“is this okay with atsumu?”

“like, with atsumu too.”

you put both of your hands into bokuto’s hair and he reciprocates quickly, putting both of his hands on either sides of your face and pulling you towards him, lips crashing into his. it’s like he reads your mind, one arm around your waist, one hand bracing the back of your thigh as he props you up on the counter to get closer to you.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper into your lips, leaning forward as if there was any space for you to move into. large hands grip onto the fats of your hips, sliding you to the edge of the counter, stomach pressed up against his, arms sliding down his back, fingernails dragging against the fabric of his shirt. 

bokuto pulls away, laughing softly, “so this is why tsum tsum comes into practice complaining about his back.”

“it actually gets much worse than this,” you say back, low and airy, pressing your forehead against his and kissing him once more, quick.

atsumu appears in the archway, leaning against the wall, not an ounce of jealousy on his face, but rather, a very devilish smile. you feel warm regardless, but you don’t make a move to untangle from bo. “so, are you staying the night, bokkun?”

bokuto almost immediately says yes, but then hesitates. “god, yea, i’d really love that, but i-,” he sighs, “i have to make sure akaashi gets home and-”

“i can take akaashi home,” osamu calls from the living room. 

“oh, you don’t have to do that, i can just get an uber or something-,” akaashi dismisses.

“no way,” osamu says, shaking his head. from where atsumu is standing, he can peer around the corner and see his brother’s hand grasped around the back of akaashi’s elbow. “let me take you home, keiji.”

“whose home, samu?” akaashi says so quietly that if you were not actively listening for whatever akaashi’s response is, you would not have heard. you decide that that’s enough eavesdropping, actually, allowing them their private conversation and turning your attention back to bo, having your own private conversation as you repeat atsumu’s question.

“so, are you staying the night, bokkun?” you mimic exactly.

he nods, about to say something else maybe or try to kiss you again, but it’s interrupted very quickly as osamu calls out, “we’re out of here.��� you barely have time for bo to help you hop off the counter before osamu and akaashi appear in the archway behind atsumu hand in hand. 

you look directly at their interlocked fingers and akaashi’s pinkish cheeks and you tilt your head at osamu. osamu looks at bokuto’s hand on your hip and your disheveled hair and he tilts his head at you. you decide to call it even. 

you contemplate letting them walk out on their own because there is nothing else in your mind right now than bokuto, atsumu, and a whole bunch of fantasies coming to realization. you don’t do that. you leave bokuto’s grasp, walking towards the front door with akaashi and osamu. atsumu offers a goodbye to akaashi and osamu, unbothered because he’s sure he’ll see osamu a few more times this weekend before he makes his way back home. atsumu is much more concerned with having a very quiet conversation with bokuto.

you only catch bokuto’s concerned, “are you sure about this?” as his head moving back and forth from you to atsumu. and atsumu’s assured, “i’m the one that brought it up.”

“have a safe drive home,” you say to osamu and akaashi at the doorstep. “and a fun rest of your night.”

“yn,” osamu warns, but you just feign ignorance.

“you also have a fun rest of your night, yn,” akaashi says in the same exact tone, tugging on osamu’s hand, placing the other on his bicep. 

“ha!” osamu laughs, turning around and pulling akaashi to the car. it’s like he can’t get out of here fast enough. “thanks for having us!” osamu calls from the car window and then they’re gone. 

when you shut the door, locking it for the last time, you realize how quiet the house is without the different areas of chatter. in fact, you can’t even hear the conversation that you know is happening in your dining room. 

except, there isn’t a conversation happening in your dining room. instead, there is atsumu, the love of your life, the most important person in the world to you making out with bokuto, your closest friend of atsumu’s, the one person you’ve wanted to fuck other than atsumu in the last 4 years. your voice is small, not because you’re timid or embarrassed, but because you think if you speak any louder, a whimper will come alongside it. “can you take me to bed?”

the whimper escapes you anyway as a tiny string of spit connects atsumu and bokuto’s lips and as atsumu looks like he’s trying to regain composure and as he leans over to bokuto and says, “i get to do it all the time, you go ahead.” your stomach is doing a million flips and as bokuto approaches you, your mind goes blank. not that you need it. 

because bokuto picks you up, same hold as before. his touch feels familiar and his grasp feels strong. “i don’t even know where i’m going,” bokuto admits as he reaches the top of the stairs. you gesture in the direction of your bedroom and open the door as he walks close enough to it. he leaves the door open, lays you down on the bed and as if he’s pictured this in his mind a million times, he quickly and assuredly kisses down your clothed chest, lifting up the bottom of your shirt to press kisses into your stomach before sinking onto the floor. 

everything is happening so fast and you cannot explain how grateful you are because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re finally getting it. bokuto doesn’t waste a second in hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs, and ducking under your skirt. your thighs squeeze the sides of his cheeks as you feel his warm breath between your legs. 

“enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” atsumu asks as he sinks into the bed beside your head, smoothing over your head and lifting your shirt. you can feel both pairs of hands on you independently, but somehow moving in perfect time with each other. it’s overwhelming in the best way. atsumu doesn’t even take your shirt off, just pulls it up far enough for your bra to show and then pulls your bra down enough for your tits to pop out and the way that you are so clothed, but so exposed all at the same time is making you grow warm between your legs. 

you whimper at the question, nodding as atsumu runs his hands down your sides and then back up to your tits and then off of you all at once. without them, you can feel bokuto’s completely, nothing to distract you from how big they feel on the inside of your thighs. with him under your skirt, you can’t see anything at all and you want to watch him, but the fact that you don’t know what’s happening, relying on touch alone, is causing you to flood.

he licks a strip into your panties, harsh enough to cause them to push between your lips, digging his tongue into your hole, slipping past the fabric, thick tongue pushing them out of the way with no help at all. you roll your hips into the sensation. “shit,” you breathe.

so focused on the feeling between your legs, you don’t notice atsumu’s cock until he’s pressing the spongy tip against your slightly parted lips. you turn your head for a better angle, parting your lips further, opening your jaw, and taking him in your mouth. atsumu puts his hands on the back of your head, pulling you onto his cock. you’ve had years and years of practice with this which means atsumu knows your limits and capabilities and he gets to move you however he wants as a result.

bokuto’s hand creeps up your inner thigh as he laps at your clothed pussy, sucking the fabric into his mouth and swallowing all of the accumulated juices before slipping his finger into you. your jaw opens further, moaning around atsumu’s cock involuntarily and atsumu needs to feel that again. “shit, bokkun, ‘m gonna need ya to do whatever ya just did again.”

he laughs against your pussy, adding another finger inside of you and you already feel so full. his fingers are so thick, they’re so fucking thick, like four of your tiny fingers are jammed inside of you in two motions, but they’re longer than your fingers too, can reach so much deeper. you’re squirming on his fingers, moving your hips to fuck yourself on bokuto’s fingers and you can’t help how much your hums and whimpers and whines are effecting atsumu. “holy fuck, don’t stop,” atsumu says, hips pressing forward, hands pulling you onto his cock to meet his thrust. 

the angle is still slightly awkward, hitting the back of your cheek rather than sliding down your perfect, tight throat like he loves so much, so he swings his leg overtop of you, both knees on either side of your head, balls resting on your chin as he lifts your head and places a pillow underneath. “fuck, that’s better, baby,” he says, barely giving you a warning before fucking into your mouth, letting you hollow your cheeks on his head, tiny movements of his hips pulling the tip in and out of your tight lips. 

“she’s close,” bokuto announces into the room, talking about you, not to you, and you tighten around his fingers even more. bokuto pushes his fingers inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, pushes inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, and then he curls them over and over again, and you come so fucking hard that you can’t even imagine the mess underneath your skirt. 

“so fucking wet,” bokuto says, mumbles against your cunt as he moves your panties to the side, pulls his thick fingers out of you and uses the tip of his tongue to coax the come out of your fluttering hole and down his throat. the lewd sounds are filling the room and your ears even more than the sound of atsumu whining and whimpering watching his cock disappear between your lips.

“shit, fuckin’ mouth feels so goddamn good, fuck,” atsumu growls, pulling you by your hair onto his cock and you can barely breathe, spit drooling out the sides of your mouth and down your chin and neck. his strokes are long and slow, relishing the feeling of his length being squeezed by your tight throat. “gonna fuck yer throat all fucking night. won’t even be able to talk tomorrow.”

“fuck,” bokuto says, “gotta- fuck-” all at once you feel even more fucking full. bokuto slips inside of you without a word, stretching your drenched hole around his huge cock. you can feel it in your fucking guts, so fucking deep, speared. you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him in place because you don’t want to not feel him so fucking deep in you. you need to feel him this deep in you forever. 

you feel the breeze on your stomach, on your sloppy clit, as bokuto pushes your skirt up and out of the way, not that you could see anything anyway with atsumu where he is and his cock destroying your throat how it is. bokuto reaches down, rubbing small circles into your sensitive, swollen, pretty clit with his thumb. “so pretty,” bokuto mumbles.

you pull bokuto closer with your legs, moving your hips to meet him and he understands perfectly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you. his moans are lower than atsumu’s, more grunts than whimpers, and the fact that you can hear them both is making your walls flutter around bokuto’s thick length. “god, so fucking tight,” bokuto praises, “shit.”

“i know,” atsumu replies, rolling his hips, sliding the underside of his cock against your tongue. “feels so fuckin’ good.” he presses forward, pulls your head onto him until his head hits the back of your throat and then he holds you there. you can’t breathe, gagging on his thick head in your throat, but the noises that are coming out of him are well worth it. they always are. you swallow around his length and something breaks in him.

bokuto starts fucking into you faster, harder, the inside of your thighs already sore and very reminiscent of another first time you had. his fingers are gripping into your waist and your fingers are gripping onto the sheets, unsure of where else to put this pure need, unable to reach atsumu’s back or arms. atsumu sees you, hands moving across the bed, looking for somewhere to root as you take all of the abuse that’s coming to you. 

he removes his grip from your hair for a moment, reaching over and grabbing your hand. “pretty girl, hey, baby, here,” he guides your hands to his thighs and tears are streaming from the corners of your eyes because your cunt is throbbing and your throat is burning and you can’t breathe and atsumu is still there to take care of you in ways that you don’t even understand. 

you curl your fingers around his toned thighs and everything feels right in the world, everything feels more manageable. it’s something for you to ground yourself on, the feeling of the soft, toned muscle in your hands, against your fingernails, scraping and digging. “shit, doll, feels good, harder, yea?” you nod, effectively shoving atsumu’s cock down your throat even further. you dig your fingernails into the skin harder, harder, not dragging across, but digging into. “fuck, baby.”

bokuto is fucked out of his mind with the feeling of how tight and perfect you are around him and the exchange that’s happening in front of him with you and atsumu. it’s all so fucking much. he can’t stop pounding into you, fucking as deep as he can, slamming the tops of his thighs against the insides of yours, holding you in place with his large hands spanning over your stomach. “fuck, gonna come,” bokuto breathes, stare not pulling away from the way that atsumu and him are making you feel so used, so good. 

atsumu answers for you because you couldn’t be expected to answer with your mouth as full as it is. “you can come inside,” atsumu says, looking down at your tear-pricked eyes and swollen lips as you hum an affirmative plea. “she wants you to come inside,” he corrects himself. 

“fuck,” bokuto says with a shaky exhale, because he wasn’t exactly expecting that, but it’s exactly what he wanted. 

“and where do you want me to come, pretty?” atsumu asks, relentlessly fucking into your throat. the only air that you’ve gotten is in tiny breaths between harsh strokes and inhales from your nose. you feel lightheaded, but the fact that it’s about to be over is much worse than your inability to get a proper breath. 

you can’t speak so you move your hand from his thigh, dragging your finger down your throat and fuck, if that wasn’t the cutest gesture atsumu had ever seen. there’s a lack of pressure on your chest as atsumu changes positions, leaning forward, bracing himself against the wall as he changes angles so that he can get even deeper in your throat, can fuck your throat like a pretty cunt. 

bokuto watches this unfold and he can’t fucking hold it any longer. it’s so much different than atsumu, the way that bokuto unloads inside of you. he doesn’t still, doesn’t stutter. his hips keep moving at an abusive pace, fucking you even harder than before as stream after stream of his thick come coats your gummy walls. you’re coming around his cock, sobs trying to escape you, but failing because of atsumu’s cock crammed down your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin with every quick stroke inside of you. 

bokuto’s come is spilling out of you. it was inevitable with how fast he was still fucking you and how much he was coming inside of you. it feels like it’s never ending, coupled right along with the noises that are leaving bokuto, low and needy. even after he’s finished filling you, he stays completely inside of you, breath catching, not ready to pull out just yet. 

atsumu’s cock is throbbing against your tongue, pulsing, leaking, and he shoves it as far as he can fit it and you’re so sure that he’s going to pump his come directly down your throat, but then he pulls out, opening your mouth with his thumb, letting his tongue fall open in hopes that you mimic it and you do. “needa see it all pretty on yer tongue, baby, open, yea, fuck.”

he doesn’t even stroke himself, comes at the sight of you with your tongue out and messy eyes and swollen lips and gasping for air. his thick come doesn’t spray in ropes against the inside of your mouth, it drools onto your tongue. it leaks out of the tip lazily, pooling and collecting on the dip in your tongue until there’s too much to fit and a part of the fat glob slips down the back of your tongue and he grunts, replacing whatever disappeared down your throat. “all of it, baby, suck,” he directs, tilting your head, placing the tip between your lips and coaxing you to suck whatever’s left from his sensitive slit. you do exactly as you're told and as a reward, you get to hear the sob tear from his throat and watch him wipe away the tiny tears that threaten to fall. 

everything is quiet. no one moves for at least two minutes. it takes the entire time for you to catch your breath.

“fuck, shit, i’m sorry i didn’t savor that more,” bokuto breaks the silence, shaking his head, inhale and exhale heavy as he stands up completely, putting his boxers back on.

atsumu takes this as a cue to move as well, getting off of you maybe as he should’ve from the very beginning to help you recover faster. though, you’re actually certain that lack of immediate movement is what allowed you to feel as okay as you do this quickly.

“next time,” you say, or try to say, because it hurts and it comes out shaky and hoarse. atsumu leans down and presses a kiss into your neck and then the side of your face and then your lips. he would be more phased by this if it wasn’t a weekly occurrence. 

“yea, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu says, confirming. 

“don’t say that,” bokuto says, shaking his head, “because i really will.”

“then, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu repeats, a tiny smirk forming on his lips.

“alright,” boktuo affirms. 

atsumu leans down, places a kiss on your forehead. “c’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” he says, helping you up. you don’t try for a thank you or a yes, just give a small nod and move towards the attached bathroom. 

“do you have a guest room or something in this cool big house?” bokuto asks, clearly feeling like he’s invading. 

“we do, but,” atsumu says, walking out of the bathroom, over to the dresser and pulling out a big t-shirt. he disappears into the bathroom again, water running, clothes shuffling, and emerges with your clothes in hand. he throws them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. “you’re welcome to spend the night here.”

“oh! no, no, i wouldn’t want to-,” bokuto starts, but is interrupted by the sink running again, teeth brushing, and now he really feels like he’s invading. but then you walk out of the bathroom, as fresh and clean as you can be without having taken a shower, and you wrap your arms around bo’s bicep. the feeling of displacement fades pretty quickly then.

“yea,” atsumu says, hand on the back of his neck, “someone gets a bit clingy after sex.” atsumu nods towards you and you playfully scowl back at him even though you know it is very true. “just until she falls asleep though. in the morning, she’s usually like, tsumu, fuck off, i’m trying to sleep. it’s weird, really.”

“i mean, if you- yea, i’ll stay if you want me to,” bokuto says and looks down at you nodding very convincingly. you walk over to the bed, pulling bokuto along by the arm and you crawl under the covers, laying perfectly in the middle of the bed. this wasn’t the exact use that you thought you would get out of your king size bed, but you can add it to the list of splurge items that are turning out to be very worth it. 

“didja need anything before ya go to bed?” atsumu asks because he knows it’s something that you would ask if you weren’t so unable to ask. bokuto shakes his head no. he can’t imagine needing anything at this moment. “cool.” atsumu shuts the light off and the room goes very dark. 

it’s awkward first, weird for only a few moments, figuring out your place in all of this, and then it just kinda works out. 

huh, reminds you of something.

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[kurosstuff]

✨️ (i think the event the still open i have no idea which sunday we were talking about, if not feel free to ignore ) but dragon!rosie x human!reader?

I just read the gorgon!rosie and lost mind (in a good way) so i thought 'why not combine rosie with my fav monster in a request?'

PMG THANK YOU-♡♡ I'm glad you enjoyed it@

Oo rosie as a dragon? Hell yeah I can see it~ I'm like- going all out of these their so fun to make

Warning(s): idk Honestly?? Horror maybe, bones.

Dragon!rosie x reader: food

You cursed your luck. Why did you even ACCEPT this? Agree to not bring anyone with? You grumbled, panting walking up the path up the mountain, dragging a cart full of.. you aren't actually sure. But it sure is bloody.

"Stupid ass guards"

Grumbling all the way to the top of the mountain, panting arms sore from the cart- how little of a break you got. Your running late as is.

"If it weren't the due date, I'd shove it up so far -" You cut off sighing. You're close to the entrance, and from what you know, if the dragon in the cave- that guards your very town. She isn't fond of swearing.

Maybe she's old-fashioned? Dragons do live for centuries, so.. that is possible.

But you couldn't help but wonder? Which dragon was she? There were two guardians after all. Both female. One not that well known but the other.. more often then not whoever is sent to feed her doesn't come back. Or if they do?

Not alive.

Shivering you prayed it wasn't her. Wasn't that horrific dragon. Eyes dark as coal. Soulless. The only survivor warning off anyone curious. It was a death wish. She is kind. But she is just as cruel. Curiously cruel even.

Grinning seeing the cave so tired you didn't see the skeleton laid bare around like a path. Like a warning. "Oh thank God." You huffed knowing the ritual by heart by now. After all if guards didn't do it. It was placed in the hands of the residents close tk the mountains. But you weren't ever told which dragon you'd have to feed.

Guess it makes sense given one will almost certainly kill you

Bringing the cart into the cave, you swallowed your nerves. It was quiet. Too quiet. Walking to the nest of foods, you grunted, putting the cart down and stepping back, hearing a sickening crunch. Stopping, you blinked, confused. Looking down, you paled

Seeing the pile of bones, you froze, shaking. The one dragon you knew never to mess with. To never upset. And here you were. In her cave- in her bones of her victim's. Shaking, you looked around the bag of meat even heavier than before a deep growl was heard behind you.

Turning, you paled frozen, staring at the dark coal like eyes- holding your hands up in surrender "o-oh hi my lady- im- I'm sorry- I was only here to feed you that's all" you choked out shaking ignoring how everything told you to run. To hide. To escape.

You knew if you tried, you wouldn't escape

Tilting her head in thought, the dragon growled slow, a rumble escaping her throat as she watched you. As if inspecting you. It was the longest two minutes or so of your life. Before she finally huffed a puff of grey cloudy smoke, filling your vision before a humming noise was heard. A woman stepped infront of you smiling softly curiously dressed in an old fashioned yet.

She wore those skulls. Those bones of her prey were as if they were decorations. Her dark soulless eyes staring right at you but you didn't find it as scary as you thought. You thought they were a gorgeous.

"Are you the new food carrier~?" Her voice spoke out formally looking down at you- towering over you easily. Her horns shun through her hat "well~? Shouldn't keep a woman waiting no?" She spoke again drawing your attention back to her.

"Oh.. uh.. yeah for today! The guard didn't w-want to ma'am" something in you. Told you that guards fate was just sealed. By the way her smile Hidden. Showing off her fangs you know you were right

"I see" she hummed circling you as if to measure you. As if she was debating on something. You worried she'd debate on eatting you. But you had hope.

Which helped you survive. Stopping infront of you her clawed hands gently held yours in hers as she stared at you. "Come. Rest little one I must insist" Turning her tail pushed you forward forcing you to move. To follow

Staring you wondered. We're all dragons this tall? Towering over you. You weren't on the tall side but still. You couldn't help but flush staring up at her mouth dry. If it weren't for her tail on your back pushing you forward. You wouldn't have willed your legs to move.

Guiding you fully down the cave she hummed at the silence. As if she expected it. "I am Rosie~" she spoke softly as if she was careful to not spook you. "And you must be?" She hummed eyeing you carefully

Squeaking out your reply, she hummed softly, repeating your name a couple of times before nodding. As if approving of such a name. Guiding you to a table, she helped you sit down, easing you into the seat. "Now, now~ relax. I won't eat you~ if I was. I would have by now. " Turning, she went to the cabinet "besides I'd never show my human form to my food anyways~ not the type to tease my food...that much~~"

Looking around, you shuddered bones laid around the room. Everywhere. Before you spoke, unable to stop yourself from asking, "How is it a house in a mountain?" Flushed, you glanced back, hoping you didn't offend her.

"Well little one.. I wanted a home like feel. So I had some humans make it like a home on the inside.. clever right ~?" Laughing seeing you nod in agreement patting your shoulder mindful of her Claws

"Now. Tell me exactly.. how you wound up coming here~?"

-

It didn't take long to realize Rosie? Loved Drama. Loved to talk about the gossip from the town- maybe that's how you were sucked into a laughing with the dragon you feared not so long ago that same day

"Yeah! I can't believe he didn't get caught by that stupid-"

"-You know"

Rosie cut your story off, sipping her blood tea(which she made you ALL to aware of) clearing your throat from the small laugh you had you going on. "Y-yeah?"

"We've been talking for hours, little one~" she purred, gesturing to the front of the cave. How dark is it getting. Standing up she smiled "oh as much as I'd love it for you to stay.. to talk more. It is dangerous especially for a human.." Gently helping you up brushing imaginary dirt off of you.

"Oh-! Y-yeah.. sorry ma'am-"

"rosie"

"Right.. yes. Rosie- I should be getting back. Make my report that you got your food. " Smiling at your correction, she nodded with a hum a hand on your lower back guiding you to the entrance

"My dear. Do be sure to tell him. I only accept you as my new caretaker, " she hummed, smirking at your flushed face."Maybe I shall take you as my personal one. Staying in my cave? Oh, I'm kidding, darling~" laughing at the flushed stuttering mess you got.

"Go on. It's not a goodbye~ I'll see you later little one~ better get to your cabin before the dogs come out~"

With a nod, you rushed off. Racing down the mountain, your limbs, thankfully, not as sore as this morning. To make your report ignoring the horrified look the man had once you told him Rosie's order.

It wasn't until you were in the bed. About to sleep before you sat up. Shivering slightly. How did Rosie know that? Know you were in a cabin? The only cabin in town?

How did she know?

[foolondahill17]

Annual Favorite Supernatural Fic Rec List of 2023:

I bookmarked 66 fics in 2023 (and read…a lot more than that), but only 9 were written/updated in this year of our lord. SMH we gotta pump out more content, friends. Seriously though, I’ve got several more 2023 fic reads in my Marked for Later, but some are still WIPs or I just haven’t gotten around to picking them up yet. I’m sure some (like the much-hyped Lighthouse Keeper AU where there is darkness by the talented quiettewandering [@wanderingcas on tumblr]) will end up on my Bookmarked favs…but, alas, they’ll just have to wait for the 2024 recap.

The list below is in no particular order, barring the first, which has joined the ranks of one-of-my-favorite-fics-ever:

A Cliff That Knew Too Many Tides by luulapants (@luulapants)

E, early series Dean/others, 94,508 words

Partial Summary:

A canon rewrite AU diverging from the events of Some Cruel Tide, in which a shifter disguised as his father used Dean's blind obedience to molest him. By the start of S1, Dean's relationship with his father is more strained, his devotion more intense, and his life consumed by the need to hide the parts of himself he is most ashamed of.

My words:

If you’ve been looking for a gay!Dean manifesto, you’ve found it. Obviously, the subject matter is dark: warnings for past childhood sexual abuse, internal and external homophobia, past suicide attempt, and traumatic outing. It is also beautiful and heart-wrenching and scratches the swollen, itchy, weeping rash on my heart in a way that only the balm of good Dean angst can.  

Favorite part:

“I wasn’t acting out,” he blurted.

“What?”

“When I – I wasn’t trying to act out or anything.” Deacon’s presence hovered behind him like an aura, and Dean reminded himself, Don’t rock the boat. Don’t rock the boat.

Dad sighed. The line crackled, and Dean pictured him standing in a phone booth somewhere, probably huddled up against the cold. “Then what the hell would you call it?”

Dean tried out a few words in his head, imagining how they’d sound to Deacon. He ended up with, “I misunderstood. I thought I was supposed to.”

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up by disabled_dean (@disabled-dean)

M, Destiel, 17,408 words

Partial Summary:

When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly.

Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it

My words:

The way Dean’s PTSD is described in this fic, like a slow, oozing poison that awakens the longer he and Cas travel together, is tantalizing and masterful. Ostensibly, this fic is about Dean and Cas road-tripping to a case. It’s actually about how you, a monster-hunter, can come to terms (or not) with your body and soul when you think you’ve become the very thing you’re spent your whole life hunting.

 Favorite part:

"Like everything will be going fine and then all of a sudden I just. Can’t. I can't stand it. And the more fine everything is, the worse it gets and I feel-" he breaks off, eyes on his hands like they aren't his hands, thumb rubbing over and over the ring on his index finger, "It's like everyone else is living this normal fucking life and I'm still back in the pit."

Personal Space: The Final Frontier by botley

M, Destiel, Star Trek AU, WIP, 63,570 words

Partial summary

"Captain's Log, Stardate 10918.8. Captain Ellen Harvelle reporting, First Officer… Castiel… attending. After a month of bargaining with the Gehennian government, efforts to permit a search party within the Rack facilities still proved unsuccessful. Although Starfleet’s orders dictated we tuck tail and leave, I elected to disregard this decision and beam a rescue operations team down for the recovery of Lieutenant Commander Dean Winchester.”

My words:

This fic has been on my rec lists before. It’s still a WIP, but it very unexpectedly posted an update after a 3(?) year hiatus, so I’ll cling to hope until my fingernails leave a bloody, mauled mess.  This is basically a Star Trek AU where our favorite Supernatural gang are fucking around in Starfleet instead of the Midwest. Fantastic stuff – worth the read even if it does remain unfinished.

Favorite line:

"Dean made a face. Castiel decided the man was hideous."

Receding by minkmix

T, early season gen, 38,729 words

Summary:

After a visit to an old, abandoned theme park in the desert, Sam begins to notice strange lapses in Dean's memory. As his brother starts to disappear before his eyes, Sam must rush to find an answer before there isn't anything left to save... My words: A Lucky Charms fic if I’ve ever read one. Delicious, crunchy marshmallow goodness of some fantastic Dean!whump and panicked caretaker!Sam with the solid undercurrent of slightly sweetened amalgamized oat and corn cereal of a solid case fic. Yum.

 Favorite part:

“Sammy?” Dean cut him off.

“W-What is it?”

“What’s Dad’s name?”

Sam’s chest heaved as he fought himself from sounding as stunned as he felt.

“John.”

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (@kelstiel)

E, Destiel real-world AU, 174,096 words

Summary:

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

My words: A solid, old-fashioned romantic AU. It’s unpretentious, fluffy, heart-warming, authentic and the kind of could-have-been-a-novel goodness that makes up the heart and breadth of fanfiction. Warning for infant illness and death (not Jack).

Favorite part:

"I know they say there’s a chance, but I’ve just got this feeling .” She shook her head and looked down for a moment. She looked up again and took a deep breath as if steadying herself. “I wish I could see you grow up.”

five minutes to six by saintedcastiel  (@saintedcastiel)

M, Destiel real-world AU, 23,383 words

Summary:

Castiel Novak has been the co-host of Good Morning, Lawrence! for a little over ten years when he stumbles across the story of a lifetime. But after a producer pulls the segment and tells him to forget it, Castiel begins to wonder who's really pulling the strings. Can he bring the truth to light while somehow managing to keep his co-host, and the man he loves, in the dark?

 My words: Another Goddamn quality AU. This one is a little quippier and fast paced than the Hospital AU above, but it’s full of fantastic characterization and even a last-minute breaking and entering romp. Fun that’s perfect for the whole family!

Favorite part:

“Been asking you out all week.” Dean tells him, and Castiel realizes all at once he’s right.

“Oh my god.” Castiel laughs. “You have.”

This Is Not My Beautiful Wife by luckshiptoshore (@luckshiptoshore)

T, Destiel, one-shot, 4,755 words

Summary:

“Dean,” says the man again. “This isn’t real. You need to come with me, now.”

Dean’s been zoning out again. But he can’t escape the feeling that something’s very, very wrong … and wherever he goes, a strange man in a trench coat follows.

My words: You gotta love the Djinn dream trope. This one has everything you want in a caught-in-a-fake-reality-while-your-lover-pleads-for-you-to-return-to-the-waking-world story, plus an extra dash of on-point characterization and some truly imaginative scenarios for Dean’s alternate realities.  

 Favorite part:

“We could look into adoption,” says Cas. “If you’d like. Of course we could also simply take a child, but I think that’s frowned on."

we really shouldn't be doing this by LoversAntiquities (@tragidean)

E, Destiel, 17,138 words

Summary:

After Castiel goes missing for a week, Dean finds him in an abandoned cemetery in the middle of nowhere Kansas, suffering from a mysterious welt. Only, as the hours go on, the deeper the curse grows—and Dean finds more than he bargained for, namely on every surface he and Castiel can find.

My words: This is more straight-up (not straight) porn than I usual rec, but this is a fantastic take on the from-sex-to-love fic where everyone was already in love to begin with. There’s a hefty sprinkle of idiots-to-lovers and sex-curse. Also angst, which is my bread and butter.

Favorite line:

Castiel stares up at him, his eyes gone soft, hooded. Dean thumbs over his eyelid, just to watch it flutter shut. “I’m not solely interested in you for your hands, or your mouth. They are wonderful attributes, but I don’t long for them so much as I long for you.” He leans into Dean’s palm and kisses the center. “I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but it would take the death of the universe to get me to stop.”

Postpartum Prometheus by babbyspanch, saltslimes (@dragqueenpentheus @nifedick)

E, Destiel, technically mpreg, WIP, 18,959 words

Summary

Welcome to the Supernatural renaissance. Welcome to Castiel and the terrible naissance.

My words: warning for the fact that this is technically an mpreg fic even though Castiel is an angel and not really a man. Warning, also, because this is another WIP that hasn’t been updated since the beginning of the year, so I don’t know if it’ll be finished. Basically, Dean and Cas bump uglies to unexpected results. Cas kinda freaks without telling Dean he’s his baby daddy. He also yanks out his intestines so said baby can be nice and comfortable in there. Funny and angsty.

Favorite part:

“Are those—?”

“Yeah.” He waves his hand at the door again, starting to feel like one of those used car lot inflatable men, limbs akimbo. “A total murderer looking guy just bolted that way. And not like— the regular murderer-looking people who come in.”

“And he left his organs.” Dennis thinks a moment, and then shrugs, as if this isn’t the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been working here longer than anyone Henry knows, maybe it isn’t. He opens his mouth and Henry can’t help hoping some miracle plan of action is going to fall out of it. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Um. What?”

“I don’t want to offend you.” He pauses, brows furrowed. He rolls Henry’s cup over in his hand. “What is a ‘FABINISTA’?”

Add your favorite written-in-2023 fics in the tags or a reblog!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

i think i found my fav arcana blog, i rlly love ur hcs and writings!!! (and i don't even usually read that much,,)

i wanna know how the m6 would react to mc, who does journaling but never had anyone read their journal, offering the m6 if they want to read their private journal

The Arcana HCs: M6 reading MC's journal

~ I kept a journal for several years until my siblings were old enough to decipher my handwriting and use it as blackmail lol. Thanks for the prompt anon, enjoy! - brainrot ~

Julian

Noticed you writing in it every day and has been dying of curiosity to know what you're writing about but respects your privacy too much to even bring it up

There have been one or two times when you left it on a table (not open) and he spent a good five minutes fixated on it from across the room, mind going crazy

You finally walk in on him one afternoon, draped across one side of the couch and twisting his gloves while staring holes into the notebook on the opposite armrest

So you sit down next to him and let him read it with you

Double checking multiple times that it's okay for him to be reading this - "are you sure that you're sure?"

Reading about himself from your perspective and how he makes your life better makes him so happy

He also notices how you've kept his love notes and flowers pressed between the pages and the sheer romance of it will make his brain melt

Blushing, stuttering mess

Now whenever he writes you something or picks a flower for you he's thinking about the best way to make it relevant years later, since he knows you'll save them

Asra

Journaling started for you as a daily exercise when you were relearning to write

It was Asra's way of giving you a piece of your life that you had total control of, and of encouraging you to chronicle your days to cope with your memory loss

Over time it also became a place to write down all the things you wanted to say to them while they were gone

So late one night, when you're stargazing together and you find you're on the second to last page of the notebook he gave you so long ago, you reread it with him

It's one of the most precious moments you'll ever share with them. No magic or adventure involved, just the sweetness of revisiting your history together

It also gives you the chance to let him read all the things you felt you couldn't tell him, which brings so much resolution

By the time you're finished reading and talking and snuggling the birds are starting to chirp and the sky is getting lighter

For them, reading about all the ways you noticed and thought about and loved them when there was so much distance between you two makes their heart so full it aches

Nadia

At first she assumed it was something like a planner, where you would write down leads and information and connections

But then she saw the different notebooks you kept for studying, and the system you had to keep track of your scheduled events

She was a little embarrassed at how long it took for her to realize that it was a journal

Once she knew, she was intrigued. She wasn't going to pressure you to show her at all, but she's certainly curious

One day you're flipping back through your entries and you begin to giggle. It's the last thing before she caves and asks

"MC, my darling, what's making you laugh?"

You're immediately scooting over to make space for her next to you and pointing to the right spot on the page

It's a small anecdote you had recorded of Natiqa pranking Nahara and Nazali when Nadia wasn't around

Once you two start reading together she doesn't stop. With your permission, you spend the next two hours reminiscing

You write about her like she's the most important, wise, and confident person in the world, and it fills her with humble gratitude

Muriel

Noticed on the trip south. Wasn't curious. Didn't ask.

Now its been months, you two live like an old married couple in the woods, and he has no idea how to bring it up this late in the getting-to-know-you game

Practices the possible words to ask you in the early mornings while he's feeding the chickens and you're still asleep

The chickens don't have much feedback

You, on the other hand, have mistaken his stoicism for disinterest, so you haven't taken any initiative to let him know that you're open to talking about it

Inanna gets fed up one day and grabs your journal in her mouth, leading you on a chase through the woods, right to where Muriel is fishing

Casually drops it as soon as he tells her to, right into his lap, and heads away for a nap

You sit down next to him and check for torn pages. As soon as you feel his interested gaze, you're offering to read it to him while he waits for the fish to bite

He's not ready for how often he features in your stories, but hearing the way you describe him as safe and gentle and precious makes him feel so fuzzy inside

Portia

The first time she sees you writing she's already asking what it's for

As soon as you tell her it's a journal, she's asking you to let her read it. If it's written by someone as mysterious and exciting as you, it has to be good!

At this point you've known her for all of two days, so you say no

Disappointed but understanding. She doesn't pester you about it, but she makes sure to let you know that she's very interested if you ever feel like sharing

You take your time, but one evening after dinner while you're snuggled up by the fire you'll pull it out and start reading to her

The best audience you've ever had. She is honed in, hanging onto every word while she covers a very happy Pepi in scritches

As someone who fell in love with novels because they whisked her away into adventures she didn't feel important enough for otherwise, hearing you recount your shared story like this tugs on all of her heartstrings

She'll laugh and cry and gasp at all the right moments. From now on, she treats your journal like a sacred thing. After all, it's the most important story in the world

Lucio

He was already sneaking peeks over your shoulder when he was stuck to you as a not-ghost. Man has 0 concept of privacy

You knew he was looking because he was commenting on your handwriting and gossiping about any tidbits he thought were juicy

Considering how you barely knew him at that point, you didn't write in front of him again for a very, very long time

It actually created a lovely habit - at some point during the day, you'll take half an hour to yourself and journal

It's been months now and you've forgotten why you had the habit in the first place, so when it's raining one evening you just stay in the inn and write next to the fire

The difference in Lucio's approach speaks volumes. He asks what you're doing, and when you tell him, he asks if he can hear some of it

He makes no move to get up from where he's polishing his sword (it got wet)

He listens while you read, interjecting with a comment or two, perfectly content

He's a bit sheepish about what you had to write about him in the beginning, but hearing how much he's changed fills him with healthy pride. Oh, he adores you

[bysaber]

Picking the perfect tree ft. Obito Uchiha

Day 02 of 31 Days of Ficmas!

summary — obito uchiha, an exiled war criminal, doesn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with a tree.

word count — 807

content — fluff, post-war!obito (he survived because I wanted him to), he’s a sad boi, longing, friends to lovers kinda

notes — hai! second fic of many I hope ^_^ obito is my fav boy and this isn’t the only fic I’ll write for him in this event even though I know not many people simp for him. on a second note, I’m really hoping I can write all the 31 days. send me good luck! <3

“I don’t see the point.”

Obito stood by your side with crossed arms, his puzzled eyes watching you cautiously as you analyzed a pine tree as if it were the most important and interesting thing in the world.

Maybe it was, but he didn’t get it.

“Nah, this one is not good enough,” you stated, at last.

He sighed, more lost than ever, not complaining when your gloved hand closed around his wrist and dragged him further into the forest.

“They all look the same to me,” he observed. “Sure, some are smaller and have fewer branches, but they’re just… trees?”

Your giggle didn’t go unnoticed by him and, as usual, it warmed his body in that unfamiliar way, his stomach fluttering from this all-new sensation.

No, not new.

Obito knew exactly what feeling was that; something he felt when he was just a foolish kid, the feeling that made him try harder to impress someone, that got him all messy and blushy and kissing portraits.

The feeling that created longing and, eventually, created hate.

Looking back, what was Obito doing if not trying desperately not to forget what it was like to feel like that? Starting a war to feel it again, even if it weren’t real.

Countless mistakes in the name of love, and Obito just accepted he wasn’t deserving of such a thing – love.

And yet, you stood there in front of him. Picking a damn tree for whatever reason, and making him feel all over again.

After being forgiven but exiled to a distant village, there you were. You knew his crimes and yet you showed up at his door every day, convincing him to take a walk with you until you became friends.

And today you showed up smiling like always, “Hey, let’s buy a tree for your house.”

And there you were.

“I liked the way you described the trees, so I’ll trust your eyes,” you said after a while, apparently conflicted. “I don’t know if we should pick this one or that one, which one is taller and has more branches?”

He wanted to laugh at you and your silliness, but eventually gave up, “That one.”

You smiled widely at him and, even though he wanted to scream at you to stop making him feel like that, he smiled shyly back at you.

Quickly talking to the couple who ran the tree business, you paid them while Obito seemed lost in thoughts and you brought the tree home with the help of some ninjas that worked there.

When the tree was installed in a corner of his living room and the two of you were left alone again, he blinked slowly with a blank expression, “I still don’t get it. Why do I need a tree inside my house?”

He was so clueless it was cute and you couldn’t help but laugh, flustering him further, “You’re such a dork, Obito! Let me finish this, ok?”

With red hot cheeks, he hummed in agreement as you placed your backpack on the table and started pulling out a lot of weird things.

Weird, but beautiful things.

He eyed you curiously as you circled the tree with some sort of wire he couldn’t distinguish, wondering what that was for, and then you started putting beautiful decorations on the branches. It didn’t take long for the tree to come to life, bringing some sort of comfort to his dead house.

“Can you help me?” you asked after a while and he nodded, standing up as you handed him a star. “Put it on the top of the tree, please. I can’t reach it.”

He did exactly as he was told – he still didn’t understand what it was for but it was incredibly beautiful and, foremost, done by you.

When the star was placed he looked at you, then at the tree, and back at you, “It looks–”

“Wait! There’s still one thing for you to see before you say anything,” you interrupt him as you run to plug in the tree lights.

When you finally did and the tree lightened up, Obito got taken aback by the beauty of it all. All the colors and decorations came together, lighting up his living room and warming his heart. Something you did for him.

“Here in the village, we celebrate something called Christmas, a time to be reunited with people we love and celebrate. This is a Christmas tree, but there’s so much more I can show you,” you finally explain. “And I was hoping we could celebrate Christmas together.”

Obito looked down, tears burning his eyes without a warning. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve said tendering his soul like a remedy on every open wound he had.

It felt like he’d found the love he had reached for, for so long.

“Yes… yes, we can.”

[aliasnz]

Undesirable Presents: Le/vi Acker/man for @nametakensff and @kawaii-kushami's snzblr secret santa event <3

Tags: aot/snk-canonverse, allergies (pollen), cold, contagion mention, spray, mess, language. Word count: 2000 (and counting) A/N: I have several apologies to make about this fic >-< First of all, I am so sorry that it is so late! Secondly, I apologize for being unfamiliar with the other fandoms requested, I couldn’t help but feel guilty for writing for my fav. Third thing: just so I can have something out sooner rather than later, please consider this a part 1 that will be edited, updated, and self-reblogged upon completion. Finally, this fic may be too indulgent, but I am crossing my fingers that it is enjoyable anyways ~ 

If Levi had his way, he would have spent the day in solitude. 

His ideal birthday was simply his ideal day. In the warmer months, it would have been a sunrise run followed by a cold shower, his warm sweat and clingy pollen swirled down the drain. Then, his civilian clothes and a walk to the brick cafe at the edge of town. Black tea, white croissant, yellow pages of his favorite novel. Head ducked down and buried in his book, anyone who recognized him - for better or for worse - received the message: leave him be. He would sip until the porcelain ran dry, would stay until his stomach rumbled. With the last hours of daylight, he would stop at the butcher stand and purchase a few ounces of meat. It was about all he could afford on his military salary, but with rare optimism, he preferred to say it was all he cared to buy. Steak dinner for one. Lights out by dark. It was his way.

But Levi hardly ever had things his way.

He was a December baby, as Hange so mockingly put it, who loathed winter cold and winter colds. Instead of that morning jog and downtown stroll, he shuttered himself in his room with intermittent napping and tidying. Some considered his celebration traditions pitiful, but he could not complain. In ways as weighty as a family to visit or write to, yet also in aspects as miniscule as a good night’s sleep, Levi had been cheated in most realms of life. In time, he had come to live with it, found comfort in little joys, and wished the others understood that. That wish was most wanted on his own birthday, for everyone else seemed to celebrate it more than the man himself.

In the depths of his heart, he knew they cared about him. The yearly plethora of visits all accompanied with gifts should have proven that, but he loathed the treatment he received. Perhaps the early symptoms of the annual cold were to blame for that. No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, contagion made quick work of the barracks. Sooner or later, it would catch up to him, and that onset always seemed to hover around his birthday. On occasion, he wondered if he would be better off facing that inevitable infection head on rather than repeating the futile delay, but his train of thought was always cut off one way or another. A pang of headache, a harsh cough, a runny nose, or a sudden sneeze. This time, it was a knock at his door, the first of the day, one of many sure to come. 

Levi swung his legs over the side of the bed. Bright rays reflected off the metal buckles of his gear and reflected into his eyes, garnering a wince and dawning thought: just how late did I sleep in? Standing up, he immediately noted how his shoulders felt heavy, his breaths labored. If he had to guess, his cold would take hold of him before the 25th was over. Lucky him. 

Hand clamped down hard on the handle, startling the two on the other side just before he creaked his door open. The tall couple cast shadows over him: Nanaba and Miche with -

Shit...

Levi braced himself for their scream, but instead, they spoke calmly, handing over the bouquet with a pair of matching smiles, “Happy Birthday, Levi.”

He startled, not because he was surprised by their presence, but intimidated by their present: a bundle of bright-red poinsettias, pointed with specks of pollen he doubted they had noticed. They were far too innocent to have purposefully gifted him such a slew of allergens. Others, however, he was less sure about.

Instead of reaching out to grab them, Levi crossed his arms and tipped his tongue in refusal - refusal of their gift and refusing to indulge in the sneeze he already felt budding. Speaking quickly, he aimed to rush them out before they could witness his unravel, “I don’t want them.”

“C’monnn, Levi!” Nanaba pleaded, bending at the knees and shooting up again quickly. In her eager bounce, his eyes widened as he watched the petals flutter with her. His arms instinctively flinched before him as if he could block the microscopic wave. “Miche and I stood outside for hours in this freezing cold -”

Great, two more patients upcoming.

“- waiting for the flower shop to open.”

“First in line,” Miche added. “Do you know how popular these things are at this time of year?”

Levi’s stance remained unchanged, Nanaba saw his disinterest and felt compelled to play it up, selling the present rather than gifting it. “They smell good, too!”

Miche, on the other hand, preferred the path of insistence. Snatching the stems from his partner, he thrust them to Levi’s face, nearly touching, “Go on, smell them, you’ll see for yourself.”

He held his breath, reluctant to inhale as long as those were within reach. Aiming for subtlety, he feigned to nonchalantly scratch his nose with his wrist, “If you like them, keep them.”

“Someone’s ungrateful…” Miche teased, unhurt by the shorter man’s attitude, but never passing up an opportunity to rag it. “Y’know, most people would say ‘thanks’ or something…”

Levi frowned, he wasn’t ungrateful. Deep down, he was touched. On the exterior, though, he was objectively irritated, and could understand why they misread him. With a pang of guilt, he sought to correct the miscommunication, but that pang was miniscule compared to the burn of his nostrils, a flame that the leaves were now fanning.

“No, it’s just…” his face scrunched as he attempted to fight it off, just until he could finish the sentence, at least? “It’s… just…” 

However, that bouquet was set on denying him. Throwing in the towel, a rare occurrence for humanity's strongest, he whipped around and buried his nose in the crook of his elbow, “Hah’AESCH-ihh!” 

Fuck, all three parties unknowingly shared the same thought. For Levi, the nature of his curse was multifaceted. Foremost, the unexpected harshness of that sneeze, the wind knocked out of him first thing in the morning. From that, the daunting notion that this was the first of many sure to come, either from allergies or the cold. Finally, the flush that flooded his cheeks. That outburst had shown enough vulnerability already, Levi lingered behind his arm and remained turned away, waiting for the blush to disappear as well. 

Yet, even after those awkward seconds of silence, neither Nanaba nor Miche could erase that image from their mind: his tan coat spotted brown, the mist that shot from beneath his elbow and faded into the room’s sunlit atmosphere. With the captain turned, they allowed their faces to contort with disgust. When his audible sniff confirmed what they thought they saw, they looked to each other and cringed, agreeing that this birthday visit was over.

His comrades did not put the dots together, that the sneeze was a symptom of his allergies rather than the cold that was notably floating through the halls. Fearing for their own immune systems, they retreated several paces, but not before Miche thrust the flowers in Levi’s grip and snapped his hand back, no chance of handing them back now.

By the time Levi turned himself around, arm still bent at his nose, the pair was already a distant blur.

Nanaba waved over her shoulder, “Feel better soon! Don’t come near us until you do!” A joking-not-joking singsong to her departure.

“Have fun with those!” Miche cupped his hand around his mouth, allowing his bid to beckon from down the corridor, “You can thank us later!”

Levi dropped his arm, prepared to call back. Doing so, however, meant that his guard was let down, and he should have known better, that his assailant would be quick to take advantage. With the distance, Levi did not turn or cover - not that he had the time for that - and instead ducked his head down, sneezing onto his own torso. “Hnn’kkshu! Heh-ISHhew!!”  

Unfortunately for him, the height at which he landed placed him adjacent to the very bouquet that set him off. A dire proximity, each inhale killed every second - any hope - of relief. 

The mess was not only audible, it was tangible, piercing the threads of his button-up and sinking through to his undershirt, summoning a shiver. The clean freak could not bear the sight, nor was it his habit to. After each sneeze and before opening his eyes, he assessed the tickle. If it remained, his lids likewise remained shut until his system managed to kill it. The first attempts at regular breaths informed him outright: you’re not done yet. Levi kept his head down, bangs intercepting his eyeline with each jolt. “Heh’tchew! Kk’shuu!!” 

Once again, he paused to survey his own state. Although he beckoned for a break, his body merely mocked him. That all you got? Clearly unsatisfied, with frustration, he submitted to its demands, exacerbating the expulsion as best as he could, aiming to please. “Hah-ESHhew!! HIH’kit-chew! Hah…Hah-AEshih!!” 

His intakes had been audible even from those meters away, his fit an early alarm clock for all still asleep in the vicinity. Dammit. As an insomniac, he was especially remorseful to have been responsible for waking anyone on the weekend. Even redder now, he tried to convince himself it was not his fault, that they should have known better than to shove those flowers in his face. However, as his voice crescendoed, it became more of a stretch to blame the gifters rather than the receiver, the inducer over the screamer.

The burn in his sinuses was unbearable, he decided to look to the windows behind him, hoping to coax relief. Before he could lure his gaze that way, though, he caught a glimpse of pity on his teammates, and somehow, that was what bothered him the most.

Fuck, this has to stop. At this point in the fit, breaths were hard to come by, and his life-or-death experiences had molded his mindset to meet his most urgent needs first. Perhaps counterintuitive, Levi understood that defeating the irritant meant battling with it. Working through rather than around. Meeting their eye contact, Levi yanked their gift to his face and took a deep, deliberate intake, figuring that his unconventional strategy could get two messages across: he was allergic to their gift, but at least it was good for something. And maybe they’ll remember this scene come next year.

Indeed, they would, and Levi would be lucky if the memory remained confined to those two. The finale was a sneeze that made them cover their ears and made the last few sleepers snap up in panic. For him, the aftermath resembled the end of a workout: tire and exhaustion, yet inexplicable relief. For them, it read like a newspaper headline: steadfast, hardass germaphobe of the branch soaked in his own saliva and other unspeakable substances. The tight-lipped, ever calm captain engaged in the toughest battle of his life: no titan in sight, but tiny irritants also impossible to see. Screaming the barracks awake, he would have been the last culprit anyone suspected. Only true friends would keep this episode a secret, maybe he shouldn’t have been so terse with them.

Vengefully, and with the slightest bit of told you so, Levi motivated himself through the end with the anticipation of seeing their guilty faces, but by the time he opened his eyes again, they were long gone, either cowering from contagion or gossiping already. Around here, viruses and rumors spread like wildfire. 

Worked up and let down, Levi released a shaky exhale, wiped his face with his sleeve, flung the door shut behind him, and tossed the bouquet onto his bed.

One down.

tbc!

[fourstarsoutofnine]

May I request some Hyrule fluff where he accidentally confessed to someone in the chain about his raging crush on the reader and then that someone told the reader? Hyrule's all sad abt it and wants to disappear bc he thinks "what business would they want with a loser like me?" so reader has to reassure him that's not the case at all

A/n:if there’s one thing I’m an advocate for, it’s making Rulie feel better about himself. Y’all know my favs are Rulie, four and legend🩷I wrote this in one go while taking breaks to slap box my cat, he kept biting me.

Warnings:only the abuse of italics used for emphasis. When you’re reading, read the italicized words like you’re stressing it. Y’all know that tho ofc. Also, this ain’t proofread

Reassurance.

Hyrule x Reader

The traveler is an incredible person all around. Kind, fun, adventurous, thoughtful—and don’t even get me started on what an incredible hero he is… but he doesn’t see it that way. Imposter syndrome is one heck of a mindset, and boy is it something he’s got.. imposter syndrome is something that makes you downplay your abilities and accomplishments, and if you ever asked the traveler if he lived up to the hero name, or his friends’ heroic abilities—or even the spirit of courage he’d tell you he didn’t. He’d negate the idea and change the subject before you even had the chance to refute him on it. Such was the exact reason he hadn’t confessed to a soul his feelings for you—especially not to you. You were incredible in his eyes, a sight to behold and an even bigger honor to be friends with. Although, he figured next to someone like the captain, the champion or even the smith he figured he couldn’t compete. In his mind he wasn’t even in the competition, let alone a contender in this race. He was just a traveler, someone who’s heroics were that of a happenstance. Right place right time kind of thing. Though, this longing and hearing for you was making him sick, keeping it to himself, he felt like a grocery bag with too many heavy items in it—ready to break and spill out all the contents. The contents, of course, being the way he thought of you, the dreams he had at night of laying by you watching the stars and making up your own constellations, whispering and giggling at what one another said. He’d kill and die for you, if only for a fraction of your time in return. He had to tell someone.

And oh, poor unsuspecting Sky. Sweet thing, he only wanted to help.

“Sky can i talk to you?” The traveler asked as he walked up to the hero, who was whittling down some wood to make into a little figurine for the ever bored sailor, who’d spent far too long at camp without something to do(the vet was going to strangle him had someone not suggested the boy go out and find a lake to play in while sky made a toy for him).

Sky looked up with a soft smile and baby blues the traveler was sure you’d prefer to his own dark brown eyes; they didn’t shine like sky’s did. “Sure! What’s up?” He sat down his project(which would be much to the vet’s dismay when the sailor returned and it wasn’t finished) to give the traveler his full attention.

“I have a confession to make. It’s nothing bad but-…..actually yes it is.” He started, already feeling defeated as his shoulders slumped, not wanting to admit it but also wanting to get it off his chest at the very same time. “I’m afraid I’ve caught feelings for y/n—which normally wouldn’t be a problem—only, they’re y/n, and I’m unfortunately nobody they’d like..”

“Are you kidding??? Of course they like you!!! They’d be thrilled to know!!!” Sky got up and the traveler panicked.

“Sky, where are you going—“

“To tell y/n! It’s nonsense you think they won’t like you! Like I said they’ll be thrilled!”

“Sky, no, please that—please don’t…” he stopped following the young man, looking like a sad wet cat with how defeated he felt. He was sure this was the end of your friendship. Farore, strike him down now. It’s over for him. He could’ve swore he saw the events of his life flash before his eyes as he watched Sky make his way over to you. He said something the traveler couldn’t hear, but he assumed it was the song of his death March. His eulogy. ‘There lies Link, our dear sweet traveler, who despite everything he went through, who saved his Hyrule from true doom and despair, despite the efforts of everything that tried to stop him from doing so, died of a broken heart—‘

In his lamenting, you had made your way over to him with soft eyes and the saddest smile. “—Link.” Your voice broke through his thoughts and you were glad it had finally not fallen on deaf ears. His eyes widened when he noticed you standing in front of him and he suddenly felt his breakfast pushing at the top of his throat, wanting to escape the twisting and turning of the nervous butterflies the rushed the home it had made in his stomach.

“Hi.” You said exasperatedly in a laugh. “What’s this about you saying you’re ‘nobody I’d like’? Of course I like you?”

“But why?” He finally broke. “Why would you? I’m not—I’m not a real hero—and I’m not strong like the rancher or skilled and talented like the smith or suave like the captain and Hylia knows I can’t cook like the champion, and—“

You put a hand on his cheek and kissed him. His words died in his throat and he melted, every bit of tension, every single thought—it all melted away the moment your lips touched his. You pulled away with a smile, wiping away the tear caught on the edge of his eyelashes.

“You don’t have to be. Link I don’t care if you’re not strong or skilled and talented or suave or can cook—I wouldn’t care if you were. I wouldn’t even care if you weren’t a hero—because that’s not why I like you. Din—I love you, Link. I love you because you’re sweet, and thoughtful, and caring and you put yourself before others—granted it’s sometimes—heck, oftentimes to your own detriment but regardless! You’re amazing, and I love you…”

The traveler couldn’t speak. He was at a total loss for words.

“…Link..?”

“…thank you…” he pulled you into a tight hug and you smiled sadly, hugging him back.

“Of course…” you said and let him take his time and break away on his own. Once he did, you smiled sadly again as you watched him wipe his tears.

“So-…are-… are we…”

“Yes. We are.” You said definitively and smiled when he lit up. He pulled you in again and gave you a kiss that was broken shortly after when the veteran yelled at the sailor for following him around and asking him questions about his magical items. You then looked over to see sky, frantically whittling down the toy that was meant to be finished by the time the boy returned to camp.

“..whoops.” The traveler laughed nervously. “..we’re gonna not tell the vet I pulled sky away from his work… he’s not the best to be around when he’s mad…” he said and you covered your mouth to keep you from laughing. Though, even if the vet did come to drag your boyfriend away and tell him off, the both of you were sure it wouldn’t ruin your day. Not after the moment you two shared.

[outcaststars]

I've been streaming on twitch for over 4 years. I've made a great community and a wonderful group of friends but I've also had to deal with a lot of aweful people. Recently I've been feeling particularly upset about it all so I'm going to air all my grievances here. TW this mentions bullying, grooming, self harm and abuse. If anyone mentioned in this post trys to comment im just gonna delete it, i also dont care if your fav streamers is here, this is my authentic experience. Also dont go attacking anyone i mention here, the whole point of this is to be better then them.

Rat_emoji

The first streamer I ever had an issue with was Rat_emoji. It all started when I tuned into one of their DbD streams only to find him streaming another, younger, streamers live content.

He had just died to this kid playing Myers, he had TTV in his name and Rat was so mad about what had happened he streamed this kids twitch live to his viewers, all the while making fun of his appearance and stream quality.

A day later I would go back and screen record this whole interaction so I can share that if you want to see it. It felt so disgusting to watch this happen live, he has 100 viewers in chat and they were all being nasty. The only person who told him to stop was drag streamer Suttonfister (i think, 90% sure) who was in the same game and discord call at he time. the whole scene was aweful to witness, it felt like such an abuse of power. Rat didnt directly say anything mean but they made a lot of mean girl comments and didnt moderate anything cruel their chat said, it was obviously intentional.

After this I blocked Rat, it would have been easy to avoid him if he didn't found the stream team "Aussie pride", he got a lot of attention for that and a lot of praise and all of it made me sick. Funnily enough I heard that Aussie Pride was an aweful team to be in. The creators didn't care about the smaller members, planned no events and then disbanded the team with the release of Hogwarts legacy because they didn't want to take a stance on JK Rowling. Honestly it seems like the whole thing was a vanity project. That's why I don't like Rat_emoji.

Dcypherpup

DCpup was the first streamer I tried to network with. He hired me to make some art for him. He wanted me to work on merch for his channel, I declined, saying that I wasnt comfortable with the idea of someone else selling my art. I counter offered to just make him a profile icon, this way we could see how my style suited him and i could work out how to tackle the idea of eventually doing merch.

When the icon was done I sent him the high res file, he asked for my signature (my artist tag, a very small "outcaststars" in the corner) to be removed. When I asked why, he told me he needed it gone in order to upload it as merch.

Naturally I was upset. I explained that we had already made a deal not to do merch yet and I also explained that I was uncomfortable with the idea of removing my tag. I went on to explain why visibility was so important for artists. At the time I was a much smaller content creator and DCpup platform was much bigger.

He apologized and said he would give me a cut of the sales. I said don't bother and reluctantly let him do what he wanted. At the time I was too scared to make enemies so I fell into people pleasing.

I took more work from DCpup because I needed the money and I hoped it would be good for my channel growth. He would upload my work to his store and wouldn't credit me. I was frustrated.

The tipping point was after the final comm I took from him. An animated ending screen. During this process DCpup would message me everyday asking for updates which was annoying. When I delivered the final product he once again asked for my tiny, half transparent signature to be removed. I was so upset and defeated, I told myself I'd fight it but I didn't. I removed my sign from every layer, reanimated the whole thing and vowed not to take work from him.

After the piece was done he wanted to commission me again. I left him on read, then I found out what he was saying about me to other people. A good friend of mine showed me a message he had sent in his stream, telling him not to bother commission me, because I would be too busy doing work for him. I was furious.

Another week later I got raided by someone and told the new viewers to check out my work, it broke my heart when someone who looked at my insta, told me he had no idea I made all of DCpups stuff. Why would he? Dcypherpup went to ridiculous lengths to hide my credit. He was telling people not to contact me and not tagging any comm work with my name. One day he came into my live stream and I was so mad I banned him on the spot .

I wish I had done more to be assertive, live and learn. Funnily enough I found out he posted a big rant, telling people off for supporting JK Rowling when Hogwarts legacy released. Only to be called out for buying it and playing it on his steam, which he had forgotten to make private. He deleted the tweet. What a cunt.

Undertheredmoon and Greenypika

Redmoon is furry streamer that I use to really like. They were funny, had great energy and I would even go as far to say that they were a friend.

All this came to a grinding hault the day he invited furry artist and accused child groomer Daveoverlord to join us on Monster hunter rise live on stream.

Dave wasn't in voice chat and I wasn't reading Redmoons twitch chat at the time, so although I was aware of who Dave was, I didn't realize it was them. When someone messaged me about it a few days later I was mortified, I assumed Redmoon didn't know and I messaged them immediately.

I asked Red if he knew who Dave was and what he had done and the kind of artists he was friends with (cub artists). Redmoon ghosted me, left me on read for a week. I messaged again asking why he wasn't talking to me. He said he was too stressed to deal with this "drama" and didn't care to get involved. He mentioned that if Dave was guilty cops probably would have gotten involved and said he just wanted to focus on his own work.

When I asked Redmoon where he stood on cub porn, he stopped replying. We haven't spoken since.

The same person who told me about Dave joining stream also pointed out that Greenypika was inviting Dave onto his stream. They dm'd greeny and asked them if they knew and greeny said he had no idea and that he'd look into it. Greeny hadn't responded for a few months so I dm'd him with the same message and got the same copy paste reply. TLDR greeny knew and was just lying about it so I blocked him too.

Daveoverlord

Dudes a fucking groomer and now he streams. Blocked.

Cidermarten

Cider and I got into an argument once, the topic of which is no one's business.

His bf weyland got mad at me for it and vague tweeted about it so I decided to start a group chat with them to sort it out. And we did.

I apologised for what I did and cider took some time away from interacting with me. Everyone in this situation wanted what was best. And weyland is now one of my best friends.

Cider and I aren't as close as we could be but that's my fault. They're honestly a wonderful person and I appreciate their friendship. There inclusion in this list is to prove a point later but they're also the only person here who I think deserves success.

Stripeydragon and Break trail.

This one is complicated because it involves someone who ment a lot to me.

Back when the exclusive stream team Break Trail formed, my good friend Marsh joined the team. Being an artist he did a lot of the teams promo art of all it's members. Marsh had a lot of anxieties about the team because he was one of its smallest members and often told me he felt underappreciated or out of place. This feeling for worse when artist/streamer and fellow team member Stripeydragon decided he was going to do a redraw of all of marsh's promo work.

I didn't see Marsh much at the time but when this began he spent the better part of a week in my mod chat expressing how upset he was about it. It didn't help he was already anxious but he felt stripydragon was replacing him and even mentioned a time when he tried to give feedback on stripys work only for him to disregard it. Marsh was really fucking upset.

After stripeydragon posted the work my moderator, Ibn, who had been listening and consoling marsh for a week, decided to comment on the art publically. He said he didn't think stripyes version of the art was better and criticized him of slimming down the fater characters.

I wanna pause this to say I don't condone what Ibn did. He ment well but it wasn't his fight and he shouldn't have commented a critique on something no one asked him to judge. Don't do this. Anyway...

Stripeydragon fucking hated this. Not only did he respond to every tweet, he went into the break trail discord and rallied everyone to defend him and attack Ibn, a lot of break trail members also rushed to the comments to defend stripey and attack ibn. He also posted ibns comment in his own discord to encourage others to dog pile on. This shit got out of hand super fucking fast. Ibn was crying and marsh was pissed. It was betray of trust on Ibns part, but the way stripey responded was downright scary.

Shit was at its peak by the time I woke up (Australian timezone) and I immediately went into damage control. I gave Ibn a huge lecture, I was mad af and told him to apologize. I dm'd breaktrails stream team manager Mari, and tried my best to defuse the situation so that both parties could stop. Everyone deleted their tweets. Ibn apologised a dozen times and Marsh told everyone that ibn was just an asshole.

So the story everyone believes now is that marsh actually loves stripydragons work and Ibn is just a weird jerk. There where no consequences for stripydragons weaponizing a stream team and their fan base against someone on twitter. They're still a member of break trail but the team has been dead for a long time. I understand that Ibn was in the wrong and marsh should have just talked about his issues with his team. But this is another case of someone with a big platform and bigger ego not hesitating to use that to attack others.

Starkymorph

this one is fucked up.

Starky mods for a bunch of break trail members, so he had an inside look into the whole stripeydragon thing. Keep that in mind.

About a year after the stripey incident, I woke up to a message from starky. I had recently finished a commission for starky but apart from that we didn't know each other well.

He claimed that ibn had harassed him on stream by bringing up controversial topics and that because he was my mod he wasn't going to support me any more. I was pretty angry, Ibn was causing trouble again. I dm'd ibn and told him I didn't want to hear what he had to say and instead I just wanted the timestamp on Starkeys VOD so I could see what he did myself.

I watched the VOD and what I saw didn't line up with anything starky had said. He made the whole thing up.

What really happened was, starky decided to bring up "cancel culture" and went on a rant about how it was inherently bad and that anyone who participates in it only does it for "self-aggrandizing reasons". A lot of the shit he said was very thinly veiled right wing bullshit dog whistles.

Ibn asked him to elaborate and said something to the likes of "what about people who cancel pedos and rapists" and starky banned ibn and ended the convo.

Ibn didn't start the controversial topic and he didn't harass anyone. But starky was mad and wanted to attack him, he knew Ibn had a history of starting shit so he came to me with a bullshit story thinking I'd believe him and Ibn would lose his friends. And it almost worked.

I tried to talk some sense into starky, I pointed out that his original message was dishonest. Starky doubled down and made up more lies. He continued to claim that things happened during the stream that aren't in the VOD. He even bought up weylandshere and claimed he was harassing him too, out of nowhere! which if you watch the VOD is also completely made up. He said some ablist shit about "high functioning autism" aswell, its all really incoherent. Non of this is true and I downloaded the VOD so he couldn't hide the evidence.

Starky tried to use my argument with cider and Ibns argument with stripy as evidence that we were bad people. I found this really sinister, because my initial reaction to Starkys story, was that i believed him, pretty much everyone reacted this way. It upsets me that i was almost convinced to distance myself from my best friend because of a lie.

A ton of people didn't watch the VOD and took Starkeys word. Starky blocked me and started asking all his followers and mutuals to do the same. A whole bunch of people sub tweeted about ibn being an abuser and me being an enabler. It was fucking aweful. It went on for days.

This only stopped when Kyziethewolf stepped in and defended me. Even tho starky was one of his best friends, he had watched the VOD and told everyone he was lying. Starky doesn't talk to kyzie now and it really broke his heart.

A lot of people still believe starky and I lost a bunch of mutual streamers support because of this. It's one of the worst attacks I've suffered on twitter/twitch to date.

I found out a few months later he's added "outcast is racist" to the narrative he tells people and there's nothing I can do about that

This also basically ended my friendship with Marsh. I've known marsh for 7 years and hes a friend of Starkeys too. During this whole ordeal he never spoke up, it was only kyzie. I was really upset about this because i feel that Marsh could have made a significant change to how this played out if he had of just stepped in.

When he dm'd me a few weeks after asking if I'm make some free art for his project I told him no. I told him I was hurt. He said he just didn't want to get involved in drama. i think its really harmful to reduce harassment to just "drama". We've stopped talking.

Jayedskier

I met jayed though my friend weyland. I needed a 3D artists and he needed work.

Jayed had recently lost a lot of friends because during COVID he tweeted that people not social distancing at a furcon where putting disabled, high risk, people's lives in danger. Totally righteous imo.

He however also tweeted that anyone who doesn't where a mask should kill themselves and deservingly got a lot of hate and backlash. Lost a lot of friends. Since then he was pretty unwilling to comment on any political shit. Publically that is.

The first fight I got into with jayed was when Ibn reposted a Tumblr thread about the YouTuber keffals, and some of the problematic things she'd done. Jayed loves keffals so he dm'd Ibn about it and started a huge fight defending his favourite YouTuber. I stepped in to try and resolve the fight but no one was really happy.

This argument made jayed realise that he didn't have the same values as the friend group he was in. He liked keffals, he thought it was ok to say the R slur and he felt people should be allowed to support JK Rowling.

He left my discord and I contacted him trying to smooth things over. We talked for a long time and I settled on agree to dissagree the hopes to change his mind on some of these issues.

That didn't happen. Jayed kept starting fights about woke shit, even though he's a self proclaimed "leftist" and it slowly drove a wedge between us. He stopped talking to everyone in our friend group, unfollowed us all on socials.

Artists/streamer and friend Ixu had drawn a big group shot of all of us together. Weyland (who is in this friend group) was pretty angry about the whole ordeal so he asked Ixu for a version without jayed edited out. When he posted this jayed got super pissed about it.

Jayed tweeted about how unwelcoming my community was. Screen caped some DM's and changed the context. I was so angry, I had spent months continuing to offer my friend ship and trying to change his mind. One of the last fights we got into he said he was mad that "people" expected him to show support for Palestine and thats kind of the end of it.

This one hurt because it felt like a betrayal. Jayed you can get fucked dude.

Socksthewolf

This one is super recent and is basically why I decided to write this.

I can't remember how I met socks. They work in the games industry and they have a LOT of money/connections. He gives away a lot of stuff, Donates to people a lot. He very affectionate and Everyone loves him. I even accepted a bunch of charity/gifts from him and in return drew a bunch of gift art.

Socks success made a few mutuals of mine uncomfortable. He had a lot of money to put into stream so his channel grew insanely fast. I'm also told he made comments to some mutuals, comparing channel growth that made them feel bad. He ran multiple giveaways and got partner almost a year after starting stream.

There was some drama between socks and one of his mods. I tried my hardest not to get involved. Socks employs a lot of parasocial strategies in order to retain an audience so he flirts a lot and also has a persona of "I'm you dad" on stream. Idk if this counts as love bombing, but it feels similar.

I heard that one of his mods developed a crush on him and when rejected, he drank himself into the hospital. He almost died.

I spoke with this ex mod about it. He doesn't blame socks for what happened even tho he feels the rejection was harsh. I still feel that socks takes advantage of people with his gifts and parasocial friendship. This is a result of that going unchecked.

One of our mutuals found out about this and was really upset. They tweeted about it and tried to hold socks accountable. Nothing came of it.

I grew distant from socks when he started hanging out with Redmoon a lot. Because I felt close to them at the time I messaged him a about Redmoon and what happened between us. He never replied.

This story takes a dark turn when jayedskier, friend of socks, decided to make that tweet mentioned in his section. Socks also went in on someone jayed had mentioned.

This is about my good friend Weyland. Weyland had had someone very close to them pass away recently. Socks complied some tweets and chat screen caps, and made up a story of weyland threatening to kill themselves.

Some of the messages were about weylands dead friend. Socks knowingly changed the context and lied to make weyland look bad.

I honestly think this is the worst thing on this post. To use the death of someone and the personal anguish of someone and ammo for you bullshit story about them is fucking horrifying.

I replied to socks tweet about weyland, I told him what he was doing was wrong. He told me that he feels bad I'm surrounded by toxic people and that he hopes they get better.

After seeing the way socks treats his audience and the way he lied about another streamer, I genuinely believe hes some kind of abuser. Idk the vibe is REALLY off with this one. This feels worse then bullying, there's an ego about it. I've blocked socks on everything. Frankly they scare me.

Final notes

Anyway that's been my aweful experience with aweful twitch streamers. The whole thing has left me bitter and sad and I no longer want to interact with anyone. idk where to go from here.

Twitch TOS doesn't care what people say or do on other platforms. And with other streamers/mutuals so unwilling to get involved or show support I just feel alone.

I do feel compelled to speak up when I see or experience something I think isn't right. I think a lot of neurodivegant people, like myself, feel that way. But I think it's been terrible for my career. I hate the feeling that I'd be so much more successful if I'd shut my mouth and looked away. Maybe even be partner by now. I know a lot of this comes across as just "furry drama" but i think its reductive to label it as that. Content creators who engage in these kind of harmful behaviors need to be held accountable if we want to see any positive change. And im not saying that means "CANCEL" them. some (not all) of these content creators can still learn and grow and be better. Negative attitudes and dismissive statements of "its just drama" create a space for bullies to thrive

Finally, please PLEASE do NOT under any circumstances harass anyone involved in this post. This is not an attempt to rally the masses to lynch some people, im just telling my story so that next time you see someone come forward with claims about a content creator you like you'll see the situation differently.

If you made it this far, wow. Thank you. Dunno if I'll post the vids/screencap evidence. I don't know if I care enough.

[smittyw]

i wanted to make some dinky elevator pitch introductions for my fav ocs because.. i dont talk about them very coherently it seems. or at all! what!!

to finally make up for that i'll put my extended edition under the cut below. love peace taco grease and stay frosty forever

so from what i gather in my notes, razz is the only recognizable one around here who got their lore blasted from a megaphone the second i came up with it. after that i got shy.. i was too busy having thoughts to ever explain who molly and Q were or where they came from. and its been like 2 years. well!

nat and molly are formerly codependent childhood friends and funhouse mirror versions of each other who split paths after high school. theyre like if two besties fated to be a detective duo spat on fate's shoes and ran off in different directions to do the same thing but badly & alone.. molly actually hit the books to become a private investigator, champion of truth and justice, while nat hit the pavement to become a paparazzo, champion of clickbait. they hate each other a lot but given the slightest chance they will attach at the hip again and drain the life from each other.

Q is later to the party, a terminally exhausted college dropout and shut-in with a notable (anonymous) presence in the online music scene. every slight inconvenience in his life is a straw and when the last one hits boy is he ready to just drive into the sunset or maybe the ocean or maybe just live in his car and stop talking to people forever. if the band they joined out of peer pressure makes it big or they get found out for their alter ego its so over..but luckily they started dating the most nosy and paranoid idiot alive & inadvertently pissed off the second most nosy and paranoid idiot alive in the process, so surely nothing like that could ever happen

these goobs run in slightly different circles that overlap juuust enough to be a problem, and its hard not to run into the most annoying eccentrics in their unserious version of LA slightly stuck out of time. if i were reintroducing lore important characters itd include plenty more than just them (eg freddy mysteriously missing from this description of events as if he isnt also there) but imho i have no obligation to pay attention to anything outside the range of my hyperfixation blast. the important thing to me rn is just to let yall know what the hell im talking about when i make stupid jokes everyday about girlies who dont exist <3

[ofallthingsnasty]

From the yandere alphabet, could you possibly do F, H, J, or N for Blue? Him and Bill are my favs :)

Yandere alphabet

Of course 💕 Blue is from this fic and my not-so-little beefy merman, you can find more yandere Blue here and here. For everything Blue, browse my OC: Blue tag.

tw. yandere, noncon, oviposition, f!reader, minors dni

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Hurt, betrayal, disbelief, anger, annoyance - Blue feels a lot of things at once. But the only emotion that he will show is anger. Of course, he knows that what he is doing isn't sane, isn't consensual - he isn't delusional - but he thinks he is acting for both his and your own good when he takes you for himself. Blue is a lot older than you (which is only natural, considering that merfolk live longer than humans do and mature slower) and he sometimes gets a little cocky, a little condescending. To him, you're still so young and immature - especially when you tell him (fully aware that his last fertile seasons are approaching) that you want to put off having kids for another few years. He takes you out a sense of entitlement and hurt that you're suddenly 'breaking your promise', coupled with the 'I-know-best' attitude I mentioned above - so how does a boyfriend-turned-captor react when the love of his life is fighting back? It's definitely going to be a pile of negative emotions. When you dare to buck under his grip, to wiggle away from him or even try to hurt him - he'll go through a million thoughts in one second. But his pride is too grand to show you that it makes him sad, deep, deep down - the only thing that you will reap is acid, in hopes that it might deter you from acting out again. He can fix your relationship later, he thinks. Because you're more likely to see that he was right all along with a fat-cheeked baby on your arm. Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? I'd say that depends on you - as in, what would be worse for you? He isn't violet, but he is going to force himself on you so you can carry his eggs. He isn't going to isolate you forever, but he will definitely keep you from anyone and anything until your babies are a little older. So, what is worse? To get violated by your partner of more than a decade or to be all on your own because he thinks it's what is best for you? Which can you stomach better? That one singular traumatic event or the grueling years of isolation and solitude? Both are harrowing in their own right, though the latter might not be defined as a 'single experience'.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Oh, Blue gets jealous pretty easily, even as his 'canon' self. Your worlds are so different - he can't follow you to land, only has you when you're at sea with him - and, as many men with big, great egos do, he has that little nagging voice in his head that tells him that you might just fall for another human because it's easier, more familiar. I didn't mention in 'at home', but you wear his bite on your neck for that very reason. He's trying to tell any potential suitor to back off. He's a biter in general, obsessed with leaving marks all over, to make it clear that you're taken. So when he gets jealous? It might just be the straw that breaks the camel's back. You tell him you need more time before having kids and he can smell some other man on you? That doesn't bode well for you. Trust me.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Never physically, that's for sure. He will give you the cold shoulder, will ignore you, will get loud and desperate - but he won't ever hit you. Really, in his eyes he isn't even punishing you. He thinks that you're still in a relationship, even when he forced his eggs into you, thinks that he simply had to force you to see what's important. He thinks you're just arguing like couples do, that he's simply voicing his anger and frustrations. (The fact that there is now a considerable power balance between you is ignored by him.) So why would he hit you? He isn't like that, he loves you, don't you see?

[comphy-and-cozy]

Did I spend this morning rereading A Dream Come True again?

Yep. Zero regrets.

I wouldn’t object to peek ins on them if the urge ever hit to write more on this just saying 👀🫶🏻

this is very sweet and I am so very glad that you enjoyed it! because, well...

mastermind - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: ~1.8K

Author’s Note: I’m sorry Ghost lol

Warnings: references to sex, implied smut, language, the usual banter; otherwise, just some ~relationship development~ and an update on my fav duo ♥️🐙

link to series masterlist

January 2024

The email lies buried beneath the myriad of holiday marketing newsletters you ignored and let build up in your inbox. Sales that have long since passed, codes like ‘HOLIDAY20’ and ‘HAPPYNYE’ expired from stores you shopped at once and never unsubscribed from the marketing. 

It’s a Wednesday evening, and you’re sitting on the couch doing your best to mass delete the influx of unread emails from the past three months after receiving the notification that your storage is running low. A knit blanket covers your legs, and the scent of tobacco and teakwood drifts to you from the candle on your coffee table.

“What’re you giggling about over here?”

JT’s low timbre echoes behind you, the sound followed by the soft padding of his feet as he approaches the couch with a bowl of popcorn. His favorite nighttime snack, you’ve grown to learn over the past three months, so you started stocking your pantry with a box. 

You aren’t sure exactly when things became so domestic and natural with him, only blissfully aware of the steady thump of your heart in your chest when his texts come through or the warmth that fills you whenever he kisses you. You’ve managed to get comfortable with his presence, craving it the same way you crave a sweet snack before bed, but you’re still adjusting to the idea that this is real. That he’s still here, returning to your bed, dutifully—eagerly—after every road trip. 

Every time, he’ll sigh, find solace in the warmth of your arms, press his lips against your skin. He’ll fuck you, God, he’ll fuck you; somehow never failing to reveal a new place inside of you that blooms pleasure. Your body has never sang the way it does for JT, expertly coaxing melodies out of you that you didn’t know you knew. 

But sometimes, he just lays, content to feel your warmth against his, head resting heavy on your chest until his breathing becomes steady and sleep takes him. His expression softens, hair falling out of its styled coif, wrinkles settling into the lines of his t-shirt—if he hasn’t already removed it. In those moments, you defy the heaviness of your eyelids to simply gaze at him, memorizing the shape of him in your bed, curled up against you underneath the blankets that will forever be embedded with his scent. 

You can’t decide which you like more.

“I just got an email inviting me to the Toast of Hockeytown event in February,” you reply, accepting the weight of him on the cushion beside you before you steal a kernel from his bowl—your bowl. “‘Fans can look forward to enjoying live entertainment, culinary delights, drinks, and desserts while mingling with the entire Red Wings team, coaches, select alumni, and other local celebrities.’”

JT hums. “Sounds like an event you can’t miss. A chance to meet them?”

“I better make sure I wear my nicest dress. One that really shows off the goods, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” he agrees, eyes flicking to your chest—though it’s covered by a t-shirt, you can feel the heat from his gaze. “Think maybe you’ll get to fuck one of them?”

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth and you shove his arm at his crass joke. “It would be a good opportunity to try and snag someone’s number.”

“Oooh, maybe Larkin? He’s dreamy.”

“Nah, he’s too popular,” you shake your head. “Can’t aim so high as the captain. Gotta go for lower-hanging fruit. Maybe one of the new guys. Ghosty, you think?”

There’s the briefest flash in JT’s eyes that you would’ve missed had you not been watching for it. You catch it, though, smug with yourself that you’ve one-upped him at his own game. 

“Heard his dick is small.” He feigns indifference, but you see the glint in his eyes. Your favorite eyes. 

“You really want me thinking about Ghost’s dick?” 

JT shrugs. “I’m the one sitting on your couch eating your popcorn. And I’m gonna be the one in your bed later.”

Check mate. The nonchalance paired with his confidence makes you weak—he’s right, and he knows it. You could have every one of them fawning over you, and you’d still pick him, every time. Once the joke falls and the silence settles, the sound of the Brooklyn 99 intro plays softly on the television in front of you.

As your mouse hovers over the ‘delete’ button, you’re reminded of the similar event you attended over two years ago—the one that led you to the man sitting beside you. You reminisce on how you spent days deciding on what to wear, even going so far as to get your hair blown out beforehand. Looking back, you’re a bit embarrassed at the effort, but as you feel the warmth of JT’s leg pressed against yours, you think to yourself it was worth it.

“I came to Denver specifically to meet you,” you blurt out, then freeze when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. Your heart thuds in your chest, the sound almost deafening in your ears as he pauses, three kernels of popcorn in his fingers halfway to his mouth.

Testing a glance at him, you’re surprised to see him pop each puff between his lips, one by one, taking his time chewing. Then, “I know.”

“You know?”

“You kn—the entire time?”

“The entire time.”

A sigh accompanied by a tidal wave of relief washes over you. If he knew, and was still here, it couldn’t have bothered him that much. “Do I want to know how?”

“Jus’ know,” he says with another shrug. Then your favorite glimmer shines in the warm chocolate of his eyes, the kind when he’s really feeling the banter. You love him like this. “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re desperate.”

“Joseph!”

An auburn eyebrow raises and he smirks. “You really gonna argue with me on that?”

Your silence is an answer enough, accompanied by flits of how he’s had you begging him on more than one occasion; you resist the urge to smack him at the smug ‘I told you so’ expression on his stupid, handsome face. “You’re not… creeped out?”

“Told you already,” he says around another mouthful of popcorn. “M’flattered. I think it’s cute.”

Heat simmers in your cheeks as you tell yourself you have no reason not to believe him; he’s still there, still eating popcorn out of the faded, red bowl you got from Target when you moved into your dorm at U of M. 

It’s another few moments before he says something that catches you off guard. 

“I came for you.” 

There’s an air of hesitation about him, like maybe he’s been mulling it over as he finishes the last few bites of popcorn before offering you the remaining kernels in the bottom of the bowl. A peace offering, maybe, like he wants to even the playing field now that you’ve confessed something so private. Funny how this isn’t the first time this has happened to you with regards to him.

“What?”

“That night. At Tin Roof.” The second time we met.

“I know you did. You were inside me.”

JT smiles at your snark, a spark glinting in his eye as if he’s replaying the memory in his head. “No, I mean… I suggested that bar to the guys because I knew you were there.”

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat. “After we met—the first time—I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find you. I kept waiting to get a tagged photo from you, but never did, so… I started combing through my followers.”

Your eyebrows raise, heart swelling at the idea of making such an impact on him that he’d go through such an effort to find you. 

“It took me awhile, but I finally found you,” he continues. “Imagine my disappointment when you were private.”

You hum, waiting with baited breath to hear the rest of his story. The memory of posting the photo of you and him comes to mind, his hand placement just visible on your side that gives you butterflies to this day, despite him having touched you far more intimately since then.

“I’d check back once in awhile whenever you crossed my mind. Still, private. I even made a habit of checking my DM’s in case you decided to message me after we won the Cup.”

“Hard to get,” you tease with a smile. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

His eyes glint again, acknowledging your quip—because you sure fucking have kept him on his toes. “And then I got a call from Steve Yzerman.”

The breath in your lungs stands still.

“We talked—and I loved what he had to say, don’t get me wrong; Detroit really had been on my radar for awhile—but after I hung up the phone, I went to check your page. Figured it couldn’t hurt. And you weren’t private anymore. And, by all accounts, you appeared to be single.”

You’re doing your best to keep your jaw from resting on the floor, absorbing his candid confession with no shortage of disbelief. Part of you wonders if this is a long, elaborate play to tease you for how you lusted after him.

“Saw the picture of us,” he adds. “And the caption, too.”

A grin breaks out onto your face at his reference. It had been funny at the time, so far-fetched, unthinkable that the contrast between then and now hits you in the chest. Call me JT xoxo, it had said.

“Thought you said I wasn’t the reason you signed.”

“You were… encouraging,” he says with a smirk. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to your body. You don’t expect he meant for you to miss it.

As tempted as you are to take that concupiscent gaze and use it to quell the heat that’s simmering between your legs, you can’t resist probing just a little more to see what else you can glean out of him. “So… the bar?” 

“Oh, right,” he blinks, like he forgot he was telling a story; you can practically see the dirty images conjured in his eyes as they float away. “Pretty straightforward, really—before we went out that night, I checked your story, on a whim. You tagged the bar.”

“Joseph Taylor Compher, were you stalking me?”

For the first time, a tinge colors the pretty ivory of his cheeks and his expression turns… bashful? “Does it count as stalking if it’s on your public page?”

“I’m sure the police might have something different to say,” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s only if I harassed you,” JT says. “And I’m pretty confident I did quite the opposite of that.”

He nudges your knee playfully, and you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you blew my mind, whatever, whatever.”

“You blew mine too, baby,” he adds, the tinge of huskiness in his voice undeniable. “But you knew that.”

And later, after he’s thoroughly appreciated your travel efforts to Denver, when your cheek is pressed against the warm skin on his chest, you whisper, “I can’t believe you were playing 4D chess this entire time.”

“What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”