#then took weeks of being evasive before I had to ask if I was getting help but no because ‘the market isn’t good’

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress. 

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say. 

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him. 

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this. 

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay. 

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look. 

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what. 

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him. 

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval. 

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori. 

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him. 

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild. 

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least. 

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

 Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe. 

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit. 

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator. 

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again. 

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin. 

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly. 

Love. Love. Love. 

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call. 

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you. 

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks. 

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable. 

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.  

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately. 

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame. 

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat. 

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again. 

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?” 

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it. 

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable. 

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do. 

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is. 

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans. 

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks. 

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved. 

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi, I wanted to ask if you could make a batbro who is a clone of batman and supermam and the batfamily and the superfamily fight over who will get him (you can also make him a few months younger than damian and jon and also a cute moment with families please)

Sure, of course I can. They would totally fight. Absolutely everyone. I'm running out of gif ideas... I don't know what to do anymore... Also, this is under Clark kent masterlist, just to let everyone know... I the batfam list is getting too long... I don't know what to do anymore.

Summary: (Y/N) is a clone of Superman and Batman. Fighting ensues.

Warnings: none really, just a (Y/N) clone, nothing graphic or anything in that matter.

Superman and Batman has found that that Lex Luthor has been making clones, yet again. However, Lex has decided to spice the situation up. How, I might hear you asking? With Conner, Lex only used Bruce's DNA. Aka Batman's. Turns out that the boy was growing up like a normal child, in terms of development. However...

That doesn't mean that his childhood was anything but normal. Bring prodded, examined... Being taught how to use his powers to be a weapon. He wasn't being treated like a normal person, a human, should be treated. The fact that (Y/N) grew up physically like a child, meant that they had more time to manipulate (Y/N).

Bruce was appalled at the news of having a clone made from his own DNA and Clark, however, he was livid when he saw that (Y/N) was growing like a normal child, physically, so that would mean he is young.

Younger then Damian and Jon... Bruce nearly exploded with anger once he saw (Y/N), so young, so afraid... Damian was older by a couple of months. Superman was disgusted by Lex Luthor and has vowed to bring him down somehow. No matter what it took. And it tugged at his heart too. Jon was also a few months older than (Y/N).

Both fathers saw red. Pure and utter red. Clones are still human beings... Seeing (Y/N) so afraid, utterly terrified of them... Bruce, despite his code, wanted to rip Lex's throat out. He really wanted to. Clark was no better either.

Thankfully, karma has hit Lex. Bruce and Clark woke up in their respective cities on morning, when the breaking news hit. Bruce was confused. Crime in Gotham happen during the night. Rarely during the day. Only if it's something that involves the Justice League.

So, Bruce was curious and decided to watch the news.

Tax invasion. Damn tax evasion. And a whole lot more of financial crimes. Bruce had to sit down in the living room, on his arm chair.

" Who would have thought... The bastard is also greedy. " Jason mutter from the kitchen, sipping some coffee to fully wake up.

" Deja vu of Al Capone. Couldn't get Lex on meta human trafficking and what not, but on finances. " Tim said and Dick chuckled at the comparison. Al Capone, a big mafia boss, brought down by the all mighty IRS. And now Lex too.

" It seems so. These are nice news, " Damian said as he sipped his tea.

" I agree Damian. This is a nice way to actually start your morning... Did Titus eat? " Bruce asked, bringing his mug up to sip his coffee.

" Yup. He is now out and about playing with Pennyworth, " Damian said, referencing the cat, not the person.

" Okay. " Bruce then stood up, cracking his neck. " I'm going to the League, I need to check on (Y/N) and how he is doing. And don't worry, we are having our movie night. " Bruce reassured everyone as he finished his coffee and put it in the sink for Alfred.

" How is he doing anyway? " Jason asked and Bruce shrugged his shoulders.

" We are trying our best, but he is still scared. " Bruce explained and everyone nodded.

" That's no surprise. " Damian said as he finished up his tea. Bruce nodded, getting ready to leave the room.

" Please don't fight. Any of you. " Bruce said before he left the room, making everyone chuckle.

" (Y/N) is staying with us Bruce! End of the discussion! " Clark raised his voice, making Bruce scoff. It's been a few weeks since Lex Luthor was arrested and (Y/N) has been doing much better, so much so that there was a big difference. And it was noticeable. (Y/N) talked more, tried to smile more...

Everyone stepped up for him and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Once (Y/N) got better in every aspect of that word, talks about where he would live after he was stable enough to be released. At first it started objectively, but as time passed, both families have gotten attached.

And that's why this argument was going on.

On one side, you have Clark and his 'Superfamily' on one side and you have Batman and his 'Batfamily.' Both patriarchs of the families argued with everything in them, trying to keep (Y/N) with them. Conner and Jon were ready toe to toe with the bat boys and vice versa.

" What can you do to help him? And if you bring up Conner as experience in clones, I'm going to use Kryptonite on you and make sure you can't get out of bed for the next 10 years! I know all of your weak spots! " Bruce threatened making Clark scoff.

" Oh please, I know all of your weak spots too! (Y/N) would benefit more in Metropolis than Gotham! More so on in our household! Your boys fight every chance they get! "

Bruce and Clark continued to bicker, both of them standing their grounds. The 'bat boys' glared at Clark and Damian was ready to fight with Jon. The other 3 were ready to take Conner on.

" What's going on? " (Y/N) asked as he came in, hearing all the commotion, even from the hall. Everyone froze and started acted friendlier, not as if they were just arguing like cats and dogs.

" Nothing, we are just talking about where you should live. " Bruce explained and (Y/N) nodded.

" Do you have a preference? About where you want to live? With me or Bruce? " Clark asked and (Y/N) tilted his head, clearly thinking about it.

(Y/N) loved them both equally. He was not really sure with whom he wanted to live with.

" What about I spend some time with one and some time with another? " (Y/N) proposed and everyone stopped for a second to think.

That isn't a bad idea.

" Paired with his online schooling once he starts... I like it. " Clark said and Bruce nodded, also agreeing with this idea.

" Good thinking (Y/N). " Bruce said. Clark and Bruce could work around this. The best option would be 6 months with Clark and 6 months with Bruce.

" How about a group hug? " (Y/N) suggested, making everyone jump in, ready to hug it out. Bruce and Clark joined last, hugging their boys too.

" Why didn't we think of this idea? " Clark asked and Bruce chuckled.

" Because we are idiots apparently. " Bruce answered and both chuckled.

" I guess we are. " Clark confirmed.

" Yeah, you are. " (Y/N) chimed in, making everyone laugh. " You could have just asked me what I preferred. " (Y/N) said and everyone nodded.

" I guess we should have. " Bruce said, reaching to pat (Y/N)'s head.

[leahrintarou]

✩₊˚.⋆☾ BALANCED - osamu miya

CW: usage of the petname 'baby' and 'pretty', fluff, maybe a bit of 'angst' if you wanna call it that lol, fem reader (she/her) Word Count: 1.4k

“when will you come by, samu?”

“soon, baby. within another hour, i'll be on my way, okay?” his tone was breathy, and y/n inferred he’d stepped away from a busy situation to answer her call. with the weekend approaching, his shop was bound to be bustling. “what’s wrong?” he asked. after hearing only silence from her end, his breathing slowed.

y/n hesitated before responding, “nothing, but okay, i’ll see you later.”

he sighed at her evasion but chose to let it be.

“baby, i'll be home before you know it. you should take a nap to pass the time. you sound tired anyway.”

y/n nodded despite his inability to see her, and when his name was called faintly in the background, she muttered a quick goodbye before ending the call.

with the line dropped, y/n turned off her phone and tossed it to the other side of the sofa. she was genuinely thrilled for her boyfriend’s burgeoning business, but his infrequent visits were beginning to weigh heavily on her.

she hadn’t realized how much time they used to spend together until it started dwindling. whether it was her busy schedule maintaining her grades or osamu's increasingly tight schedule, their communications, though frequent, were beginning to fail in filling the void. nothing could replace the comfort of physical presence, especially when it came to osamu.

she stood up and decided to heed his advice to take a nap. after all, what else was there to do? her friends were occupied with work or their own classes, she’d finished her studying for the day, and she had no errands left. all she truly craved was relaxation, but for that to be possible, she needed the presence of the person she loved beside her.

her phone vibrated in her hand, and she checked the message from her boyfriend.

samu 🩶 -> ‘i know this is terrible timing, pretty, but i might be getting home a bit later than planned. i need to pick up a few supplies for tomorrow. we’re running low.’

she couldn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes, blurring her vision. she wasn’t sure if her reply made sense, but she was beyond caring.

y/n -> ‘okay. be safe.’

she set her phone down on the nightstand and rested her head on her pillow. it had been a long, arduous week, and all she needed was him.

---

osamu hurriedly hung his hoodie by the door as he called out for y/n. her silence worried him. he had informed her of a late return, but the exact time had been unclear. he intended to be home three hours ago, but unforeseen circumstances had delayed him. he took steps up the stairs cautiously and gently pushed open the door.

there, y/n lay on their bed, her back turned to him. he called her name, and she stirred in her sleep, prompting him to sit on the edge of the bed. it was dim in the room, but he noticed the dampness of her pillow and her swollen eyes. his heart ached as he placed his palm against her cheek.

her eyes fluttered open, and they widened upon seeing his familiar face. she sat up as he settled on the bed, and she enveloped him in a tight hug.

“were you crying, baby?” he asked, wanting to pull away to see her face, but her embrace was firm, and honestly, he never wanted to leave it.

she mumbled a soft “no,” but the tremor in her voice revealed the truth.

“yeah, you were. look at your eyes…” he finally managed to view her features when she reluctantly released him. “i’m so sorry for being away for so long. why didn’t you tell me you were going through a rough patch?”

“you were busy with the shop and so happy that things were picking up. i’m happy for you too. so much,” she said, using the sleeves of her hoodie to wipe her tear-streaked cheeks.

“there’s a ‘but’ in there, isn’t there?” he asked, reaching for both of her wrists to gently pull them from her face.

“but,” she exhaled, meeting his gaze before looking down at her lap, “i don’t just want you to be here, i need you to be here. nothing is enjoyable without you anymore.” she frowned. osamu smiled and placed a tender kiss on the top of her head, then on her lips.

“i understand, baby. but listen to me.” his hand cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his warmth. “i will drop everything in a heartbeat if it’s you who needs me, okay?” he stated. she nodded and drew herself closer, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. even the slightest trace of it brought her a sense of tranquility and comfort.

osamu wrapped his arms around y/n, holding her close. the weight of her words and the tears she had shed made him realize just how deeply his absence had impacted her.

“i’ve been so focused on making things work at the shop that i didn’t see how much you were struggling,” he admitted softly. “i promise i’ll make it up to you. we’ll find a way to balance this better.”

y/n nestled her head against his shoulder, her breathing slowly evening out. “i know you’re working hard, and i appreciate it. i just want to feel like i’m a part of your life, not just a contact on your phone.”

“of course you are,” osamu reassured her. “you’re my whole world. we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

he gently rocked her back and forth, his touch soothing her. after a few minutes, he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “how about we make some plans for the weekend? no work, no distractions, no studying.”

y/n’s eyes brightened at the idea, her sadness dissolving in the warmth of his gaze. “that sounds amazing, but time won’t stop just because we want to spend time together."

osamu smiled, his heart swelling with relief. he leaned in to kiss her forehead, then her lips again, as if to vow never to let her feel this way again. “you’re right, time won’t stop, but we can make every moment we have together count. let’s focus on the time we do get and make it special. we’ll find our balance, and until then, i promise to make the most of every second i can spend with you.”

as they settled back into their embrace, y/n felt a renewed sense of comfort. the weeks ahead might still be busy, but knowing osamu was committed to making time for her eased her worries.

with osamu by her side, y/n drifted off to sleep, feeling more at peace than she had in days.

“i’ll make sure we always have these moments. you mean everything to me, baby.”

this was written for a certain someone lmaooo

ty for reading! leave a like to show support :D

tag: @lifesucksweswallow & @powpowboom

[milla-frenchy]

Roads part 5

4k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader Chapt summary: you and Joel finally manage to deal with your mutual feelings Warnings: 18+ mdni. Kinda perv!Joel (panties sniffing, peeping Tom, jerking off in semi public: car at night), alternate POV, masturbation, oral (f/m receiving), cum eating (m/f), dirty talk, nose riding, spitting, chocking, ass play, degradation, praise kink, unprotected piv, creampie, mentions of possessiveness a/n: thank you, always @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for beta-ing me ❤️ love you 🫶🫶🫶 Spotify playlist | ao3 | Series masterlist | Masterlist

Part 4

“What the fuck Joel?” Tommy said after Joel opened the door.

Joel looked at him annoyed.

"You really think I haven’t noticed your attitude? And still you won’t talk to me. You're a fucking brick wall. As for her, these last weeks she refused to go out for a drink. Couldn’t meet her before or after work. I had to pound on her door this morning until she finally opened up. She didn't want to tell me anything, she was withdrawn like I'd never seen her before. You know why?"

Joel looked at his brother but didn't respond.

"She didn't want me to know. And she remained evasive, I just managed to get a few sentences out of her. After that she was ready to kick me outta her house."

"Not your damn business. Already told ya."

"Actually it is. She's my best friend. And you're acting like an ass. You don't want to commit, ok? A little late though. But stop being an ass to her. Respect her, talk to her. If you want to end the relationship do it, but stop acting like a fucking brat."

Tommy left, and Joel returned to his couch. Almost two weeks passed since your argument and you haven't had any contact. Several times he wanted to send you a message or come to your house, without ever taking the plunge. The more days passed, the more he lacked courage and the less he knew how to get out of this situation.

He didn't know whether to come back to you and try to fix things or end the relationship completely.

Yet he missed you. A lot. At night, in his bed, he would bury his face in the pillow you had been sleeping on, to smell you. It was barely noticeable now, and he dreamed of ever smelling you again. He had left your things where they were. A toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, some clothes including one of his shirts that you sometimes wore, hanging behind the bedroom door. Your bottle of perfume. Sometimes he sprayed it on a cloth to smell it.

The photo of the two of you, in his dining room. Frozen moment where he smiled at the camera while you were kissing him on the cheek. You asked him just before to take a photo, and at the last moment you kissed him. Fleeting stolen moment, of his surprised but so natural smile. Happy. Your cheek, wrinkled, showed your own smile.

Another photo of the two of you, in his room. You took it one morning. He was lying on his stomach, his face turned towards you, his arm resting across your chest. He was sleeping. You were lying on your back, your arm under his neck and your hand resting on his hair. You were looking at the camera. The photo was a little blurry, but showed one of your breasts and your bare skin, his shoulder and part of his back. Naked too.

He had grabbed one of your panties from the laundry basket, and couldn't bring himself to wash them. The faint smell of your pussy didn't linger there for long. More than one night he had smelt it before jerking off, thinking of all the times his tongue was buried in your pussy, or slowly swirled around your clit. Those times he licked his fingers after fingering you because he couldn't get enough of your taste. Those times when he woke you up, his head already between your legs, his tongue on your clit and two fingers in your pussy.

His hand gripped his cock so tightly when he jerked off, that by the time he came he was on the border between pleasure and pain.

He parked a few times not far from your work, to watch you. He parked in an adjacent street of your house, and waited in the morning and evening light, without you being able to see him. He watched you walk, he looked at your hair, your curves. Your face. He was trying to read your thoughts. 

He had the chance to see you one evening, through your bedroom window. He started jerking off in his car, until a police car drove by and he had to leave before arousing suspicion. He had finished jerking off at home.

Your absence was unbearable, but he didn't know if he was capable of taking on this relationship without hurting you again. He didn't trust himself, and began to perceive that the reproaches he had addressed to you were in fact aimed at him.

He hesitated for a few moments, his phone in hand. He looked at his lock screen: a dock overlooking a lake, surrounded by a dark forest. The loneliness implied by this image jumped out at him. Did he want this solitude, or did he think he wanted it?

He unlocked his phone and started typing a message.

*************

You were lying on your couch, under your blanket, when you heard the notification.

*Can I come over tonight?*

You dropped your phone on your chest before looking at the ceiling. You had been waiting for days, hoping that he would contact you.

Those days had passed without you realizing it. You went to work, returned home , and waited until the next day. Without doing anything at home. No laundry, no tidying up, no cleaning. Coffee cups were piling up in the kitchen and on the coffee table. The dishes were lying around in the sink. You couldn't find the motivation to do anything.

You tried to finger yourself once, without success. Unable to make yourself cum, for the first time in a long time. You missed his hands. You missed his cock. You missed him. You ended up crying, seeing your inability to reach orgasm.

You reread his message. You knew he would get the read notification.

You started typing “I don’t want that. Sorry."

Before deleting it and placing your phone back on your chest.

************

Joel stared at his phone since he sent you the message. He saw the checkmark indicating that you received it, then read it. He was waiting for your response, but nothing.

He saw the bubble indicating that you were typing. Then nothing again.

He was starting to worry and tried to push away the urge to go straight to your house. After his previous behavior, he really didn't want to be intrusive, but worry was nagging at him.

He picked up his phone again. Nothing.

He tapped again.

*********

You grabbed your phone when you heard the new notification.

*Please*

Fuck. You didn't expect that. You waited a few minutes and replied *Ok*. Then you looked at the mess in your house and got up from the couch. It was time to tidy up.

When the evening came, everything was put away and you were dressed. Jeans, t-shirt, button-down plaid shirt.

There was a knock on the door and you went to open it.

You held your breath when you saw him. Jeans, black t-shirt. Puppy brown eyes. Fuck. He was gorgeous.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Come on in.”

You went to sit on one side of the couch, he sat on the other. An empty place between you two.

You waited for him to speak. His gaze was fixed on his shoes. A few minutes passed before he started " 'm sorry."

You were about to answer when he added in a whisper "I know I already said it. After the pub. I know. I'm a mess. And I don't deserve you" his eyes didn't leave his shoes.

"It's not about whether you deserve me or not, Joel. I’m the one who can judge that. It's about what you want."

He looked at you.

"You. I want you. I wanna be with you. I wanna try again, in a better way, but I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to deal with my emotions. They overwhelm me… they always do. And when it happens, I don't know how to handle them."

You felt your heart tighten. You were dying to hold him close to you. But you couldn't give in to this urge so quickly. Not after your last argument and how you felt since then.

"I was serious Joel. I don’t want a relationship like that, where you’re hurting me"

"I know. I never wanted to, but I know I did. 'm sorry."

He clutched his hands together, barely looking at you.

“Do you trust me Joel?” You asked him

He looked at you and said "totally."

"I never wanted someone else, since we're seeing each other. That includes Stefan.”

His eyebrows furrowed but he lowered them quickly and nodded.

“What happened was a serious warning. And after this, I don’t know if there will be more”

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

You stood up and came to face him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held his head against your belly. You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you.

“Get up”

You pulled him into your arms, as he buried his face in your neck. He inhaled your scent so hard that you could hear his breathing.

He held you tighter against him. You felt his bulge against your crotch and your desire was overwhelming you.

You took his hand and walked up the stairs. Without stopping, without speaking. You didn’t know if you were making a mistake, and you didn’t want to think about it.

Once in the room, he hugged you and kissed you. So softly and delicately that you felt yourself melting. You missed everything about him so much.

He unbuttoned your shirt, took off your t-shirt, then your bra.

“Lie down, sweetheart.”

You lied down as he undressed completely. You looked at his erect cock and felt the wetness in your pussy.

He joined you on the bed and took off your jeans and panties at the same time.

"You're so beautiful, baby."

He settled between your legs, his mouth at your pussy, before brushing your clit with his nose, then your folds. He inhaled you and his cock grew even harder.

"I missed you so much. You have no idea."

Tears were coming to the corner of your eyes but you didn’t want to cry. His words made your heart flutter but you didn’t want to let go emotionally. You quickly wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

He stuck out his tongue, and licked your dripping entrance. He reached into your folds and you were already moaning, forgetting your tears. Your hands tighten in his hair, spreading your thighs as wide as possible.

You pressed your mound against his mouth, as his tongue moved up against your clit.

"Tell me what you want", he said, looking at you.

"Your fingers. Please"

He inserted his middle finger into your soaking pussy and swirled it gently.

“Another one Joel, please”

He added his index finger.

“Oh god,” you said.

His tongue swirled over your clit, and you already felt your pleasure building.

“Fuck me with your fingers, Joel.”

He picked up the pace and turned his fingers towards that sensitive spot.

"I'm gonna… i'm gonna come Joel. I'm… oh… fuck. Joel… i'm gonna…"

Your orgasm swept over you. Devastated you. Like a gigantic wave crushing you.

He came back up to you and kissed you. You were electrified by your taste on his tongue.

He grabbed his cock in his hand and slid it into your entrance, forcing himself not to go any further just yet.

“Joel…,” you mumbled, trying to pull him closer to you to sink deeper.

"Wait a minute, sweetheart. Wait a minute. I wanna… i wanna feel you. I missed you. I just wanna… feel you around my tip. Wanna feel you warmin’ me."

You felt safe, with his arms on either side of your face. You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth and mingling his. Then, you pulled out your tongue to lick his lips. You groaned against his mouth.

He gently grabbed your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

"I love you."

Still looking at you, he slowly pushed himself into you, with one push, until he bottomed out. The sensation prevented you from responding even if you had wanted to. He stopped and kissed you, buried in you. He groaned, resisting the urge to move.

"It's so good. You're so good, baby. So good for me. Fuck… 'm gonna fuck you now."

He withdrew almost completely, before thrusting in again. Picking up the pace.

" 'm not gonna last, sweetheart, I'm sorry. It's too good. Missed it too much."

You slipped your index finger into his mouth, which he sucked while looking at you, then you passed your hand between your two bodies before reaching your clit. You rubbed it under your finger gently, until you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Fuck me Joel. Make me come on your cock"

He picked up the pace, pinning you against the bed.

Until you came, and he froze inside you, while you felt his jets of cum shoot deep in your pussy.

He immediately pulled out, settling between your legs to eat you. He ran his tongue over your clit, then into your pussy, licking up everything that came out. As if he wanted to take everything from you, including himself.

“Joel,” you panted “I can’t… too soon…”

He didn't stop, moving from your clit to your entrance and holding you pinned against the bed with his hands on your hips.

You squirmed beneath him. Your orgasm was almost painful. Almost. It floored you, making you cum under his tongue.

He came back to lie down next to you and hugged you. You murmured "I love you too, Joel."

Weeks passed, then months. Sarah had returned twice for a few days.

You and Joel had found a way that worked for both of you. You regularly slept at one or the other's house but kept some moments for yourself.

You meant to delete Stefan from your contacts but didn’t. If you did it, you’d want it to be according to your wishes, not to avoid confrontation.

You had gone on weekends together a few times and you were trying to balance alone time at home, going out as a couple, and going out with Tommy and Maria.

You still talked a lot and you loved his calm side, his quiet strength. You wondered how such a person could have lost control in a snap of his fingers, twice.

He continued to express his possessiveness while fucking you and you loved it.

There had been no other arguments. Nothing that could have caused one, either. You often thought about the difficult times you had, but you tried not to think it could happen again.

You came back from a seminar for which you had been absent for four days, going directly to Joel's house upon your return, as agreed.

You had barely closed the front door when Joel was against you, his hands on every curve of your body, from your cheeks which he had pressed against his palms while kissing you, to your hips.

You told him "wait, let me shower"

He grumbled “don’t care” and picked you up before you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Joel let me take a shower."

“Already told you no” he growled, before carrying you to his bedroom.

Once there, he leaned you against the wall before leaving kisses from your lips to your neck, passing by your cheeks and the lobes of your ears.

“Missed you way too much baby”, he said between kisses.

Then he released you and quickly took off all your clothes, before telling you to lay down on the bed. Which you did, not taking your eyes off him.

You saw his chest rise to the rhythm of his breathing. He took off his clothes, facing the bed. Once naked, he spat in his hand and started to jerk off slowly while watching you. “Fuck… come here Joel, please”

He shook his head. And you looked at his body, moving from his eyes, his face and his hair, to his broad shoulders, his chest, his waist, his cock, his thighs. You wanted to lick every inch of his body.

He smirked, when your eyes returned to his.

"Touch yourself."

“Joel,” you whined.” I've been touching myself these last days, I want you now."

“What were you thinking about when you touched yourself, naughty girl?”

“Joel…”

“Stop whining. Touch yourself and tell me what you thought about.”

You sighed before sliding your middle finger into your wet pussy, then bringing it back up to your clit and twirling it gently under your fingers. Your eyes fixed on Joel who continued to jerk off slowly.

"I thought about you. Your cock. The way you fuck me”

“Which way?”

"Thought about your cock in my mouth, hitting my throat until you came, shooting your cum against it. How I swallowed it all."

You saw him flinch before catching himself "What else?"

You ran your finger through your pussy again to get more moisture before returning to your clit “thought about waking up while you were already fucking me"

”You like that, right? Such a slut.”

Your body jerked and your back arched against the bed. You released the pressure on your clit, barely grazing it. You didn't want to cum right away.

“And then?”

“When you fuck me on all fours and put a finger in my ass”

He smirked “What else do you like?”

You picked up the pace on your clit before responding “I love when you eat my ass before fucking it with your big cock"

“Shit, babe… Tell me how it feels.”

“I… fuck… I feel full. It’s painful at first while my ass gets used to your cock”

“Fuck… What next?”

“Then” you stopped, positioning your index finger in the exact spot where you knew you would come “ I can’t think anymore. I stay there, ass fucked, and I feel like you’re gonna tear me apart. I feel possessed. Like an animal and… oh fuck…”

“Go ahead baby. Come. Come for me.”

You came, your other hand cupping one of your breasts, "good girl, cuming for me when I ask you to" you moaned and felt another spasm, hearing him.

Joel lay down on top of you and pushed his cock in your pussy, bottoming out.

“Oh! Fuck… Joel!”

“Shut up just… just take my fucking cock,” he grabbed your wrists in his hands and pinned them above your head, before pounding you "yeah, just like that", he said.

He knelt down before taking your ankles in his hands and placing them on his shoulders.

His pace was fast, and the position allowed him to fuck you deeply. Your breasts swayed under his rhythm. “That’s it…. take it baby. Take it good. 'm gonna ruin your fuckin pussy tonight.”

After a few minutes, he lowered your legs and put them around his hips, spreading your hips as far as he could with his hands. He held your hips and started to rub your clit with his thumb, and resumed an equally brutal pace.

“Fuck… you’re so tight… How many times did you make yourself come during the seminar?”

“Every night.”

“That’s my girl...” He slowed down the pace, just long enough to run his saliva over your pussy, and see it slide onto his cock, which he pushed into you immediately.

“Talk to me. Tell me how you feel.”

“Can’t… Too much... Too thick... Too rough”

“Too rough huh?”

He pulled out and grabbed you before turning you around.

Barely settled on all fours, he placed his hands on your hips and thrust into you, at a slow but deep pace, before running his saliva onto your ass and pressing his thumb there.

“That's what you want? My finger in your ass while I fuck you from behind?”

“Yeah,” you moaned.

He picked up the pace until he was pounding you again, the first knuckle of his thumb buried in your ass.

“I want you to come. Now", he groaned.

You lowered your chest to rest your head on the bed, before sliding your hand against your pussy. Instead of rubbing your clit, you reached his balls, and rolled them under your fingers.

He growled before grabbing you under the breasts and pulling you up, your back against his chest. With his other hand, he slid down to your clit.

“Missed my balls, too?”

You nodded.

”Such a whore. Come on, come on my cock. You can do it, baby. I wanna feel you squeezin’ me.”

Your orgasm came fast, and he bit your earlobe as his movements became even faster, until he came deep inside your pussy.

You collapsed onto the bed, his hands still on your hips to stay inside you.

“God I missed you baby”, he said. 

One evening at Joel's house, you were sitting on the couch reading, your legs tucked under you, and Joel was working on small wooden sculptures on the dining room table.

You asked him “why do you think we mostly fuck rough?”

“Does it bother you?”

"No no, not at all. It's just that I'm wondering. We both want it, but why so?"

"I think... part of the answer has to do with the fact that I... want you. Really. Physically. I want you to be mine, it makes me an animal, I want to protect you, to touch you, have you. Completely, even if it's in vain. So each time I try to have you again. And we found each other well, because I think… you want to be protected, and possessed. By me. I think you want to be mine. Truly and deeply."

You were left speechless, to the point that he spoke again slowly, "did I say something I shouldn't? Am I wrong?"

“Fuck, no. I think uh… I think you’re right."

“Ok, and what do you think about that?”

“I think I want you to fuck me rough,” you both laughed.

You thought about what he just said, your hand over your mouth, looking at him, before finally launching yourself "I have... this need. In me. Like a void that wants to be filled. Not all the time. But when you are near me... it often tightens inside me, physically. My thighs tighten and... my pussy clenches. I don't even know if I can control it, and I think I don't want to. When you're near me, I have this basic need and I like to feel it. But it scares me too."

"Why?"

"I've never felt that. I don't like being dependent, in general. And I've never felt so strong and so weak at the same time"

His brows furrowed "What do you mean weak? I don't want you to feel weak."

"Shit...I can't believe I'm gonna say that. It reminds me that I'm a woman. A female, in the pure animal definition. I need to be fucked. When you're inside me, especially when you wrap your arms around me, it's like nothing could happen to me. Because you are here, you protect me. It's a very primal feeling"

“And you said you felt strong at the same time?”

"Yes, it's quite strange to feel these two opposing sensations, but when I'm with you I have the impression of having an immense power. In general and... over you."

He smiled, like he knew exactly what you were talking about "How so?"

"I feel deep down that I'm controlling you, sexually. It's terrible to say, I'm sorry, it's not a nice thing to say. But deep down, I feel like I'm controlling you. It's hard to explain"

“No, I see very well what you’re talking about."

"Really?"

"I realized it the night of the altercation at the pub. The way you turned the situation into a game, after assessing my state of mind. You were scrutinizing me. There I realized that since the beginning, you took me wherever you wanted, and not the other way around. Physically, you control me."

"Yet, when we fuck, you often seem in charge"

"I want to have you so bad, I would do anything for it. I feel so possessive and jealous" he raised his hands in apologetic gesture before adding "I know, I know, I have to keep working on it. And I do, I swear. But my deep nature, with you, is very primary. Possession, protection. It translates sexually, but according to your limits. I want you to be happy, I want to see you smile. I want to make you come. And I want my cock to be as thick, as big as possible, so that you feel me completely. So that I can answer your needs. So that I can fill you. When I'm inside you, no one can touch you. Your eyes are on me, I want them to be. I want to have my cock in your mouth, because you don't think about anyone else when you suck me."

You smiled. 

“When I am dominant with you, I forget my doubts, and I respond to your needs, I believe. And it happens naturally.”

You nodded before saying "wow, if I had known I would have asked this question sooner. Now I want you to get undress, Joel, and come lie on the couch."

He looked at you and undressed completely before settling on the couch. You took off your dress, bra and panties.

You settled between his legs and ran your tongue from his balls to the base of his cock. Then you told him “now i’m gonna ride that nose baby, and you’re gonna make me come in your mouth”

He nodded, and you straddled his face, your pussy level with his mouth. You lowered yourself until his tongue touched your pussy. He kept his tongue erect, and you continued to go down slowly as if you were impaling yourself on it. You tilted your pelvis so that his nose was rubbing against your clit and you began to grind your pussy against him. He groaned and closed his eyes, but you said “look at me when I’m fucking myself on your face”. He opened his eyes.

“Good boy,” you said, staring at him, and you heard him groan in the folds of your pussy at these words.

“Come on Joel. Make me fuckin come”

He grabbed your thighs in his hands and pulled you towards him, his tongue pushing as deep into your pussy as possible.

“Fuck…”

“Use my nose. Use my fuckin nose to come”, he said.

His words eventually made you cum, your hand clenched in his curls as you continued to grind against him until your spasms stopped.

You got off the couch, and Joel said “On your knees baby. Won’t be long.”

You knelt down as he stood up. He took his hard cock in his hand and moved closer, before wrapping your hair in his fist.

“Open, tongue out.”

You stuck out your tongue and he slapped your cheeck with his cock. Once. You waited, tongue still hanging out.

He put the tip of his cock on it and started jerking off

“Fuck baby…i’m gonna shoot my load all over your face.”

He leaned down slightly before spitting on his cock, watching as the saliva ran down your tongue. You moaned.

“Don’t move.”

He started to slide his cock over your tongue, gently. You parted your lips further so he could continue filling your mouth, until he hit the back of your throat. You gasped but didn’t pull away.

“Good girl, takin’ me so well in your mouth.”

He pulled back, returning to rest his tip on your tongue, before sliding it all the way in again. When he slammed against your throat, he held you against him with his fist.

“Breathe, baby.”

Then he released his grip and withdrew.

“‘m gonna paint your face, baby. Keep your mouth open."

He jerked off quickly, his fist still clenched in your hair, keeping your face close to his cock.

“Such a slut, waiting for my load.”

You blinked to show him your acquiescence.

He picked up the pace of his wrist and you closed your eyes just before the first jets of hot cum shot onto your face, then he shoved his cock quickly into your mouth for the final spurts.

“Swallow, swallow it all,” he said, even though he had not yet emptied his balls completely yet. You took his cock in your hand and put it into your mouth to suck every last drop of him, while what he had sent to your face flowed down your cheeks.

You then pulled away, he helped you get up and he wiped your face with his t-shirt.

"Fuckin animals,” he said, and you both laughed.

Part 6

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[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey - Chapter 12: Flight Risk

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You finally face Rhysand, prepared to defend your place in the Night court. You never expected it would end this way, though.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Some good ol' trauma, as always, but that's about it!

Word count: 2.8k

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“Well, if this is your idea of necessary training, Az, you had better watch out before I try finding new powers of my own.”

Rhysand’s voice echoed in the modest living room, the amusement lacing each word sobering you up faster than a bucket of ice water ever could. You looked over your shoulder and hissed harshly at the man standing in the doorway, the length of your wings snapping back to their usual folded position in response to the intrusion.

Your centuries-old reflexes had you about ready to launch yourself at Rhysand, but Azriel’s hands landed on your hips and kept you from leaping backwards. You struggled against his hold for only a second before ceasing your efforts, regaining control over your instincts. You remained tense as a coiled spring, distrusting the High Lord.

“Not the best moment, Rhys.” Azriel sighed, dropping his head back lightly on the backrest’s cushioning.

“By all means,” Rhysand purred, “don’t let me stop you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, darkness by his feet almost unnoticeably flickering as your intertwined shadows made their way back into the room. You lost track of them quickly as they blended into Azriel’s, but you felt their presence around you as they distantly told you there was a box of spare linens in the attic.

You fought the urge to slap them away, frustration slipping into your very bones. They had apparently been too busy to count blankets to notice an entire person coming into the very small house. Spatial awareness was visibly not their forte.

“What,” you sneered, ignoring the pressure Azriel added to your hips in warning, “So bored of your own sex life that you have to live vicariously through other people’s?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, unimpressed by your taunt. “All that training did not include manners, it would seem. Noted.”

“How about you shove your manners up your-”

Azriel cut you off before you could further insult the High Lord, his shadows pushing Rhysand encouragingly towards the kitchen. “Alright, let’s not do that. Rhys will you just- just give us a minute, alright?”

Rhysand sent another smirk your way, winking. “I’ll let you lovebirds finish what you were doing.”

You snarled as he turned around, still immobilized by muscled arms. “He better sleep with one eye open,” you hissed once he left the room. Azriel reluctantly let go of you and you sprung to your feet, using every last bit of your restraint not to follow into the kitchen. You fiddled with a fallen feather, and your shadows trailed the man, assuring you they’d report back on any suspicious activity. If they even kept their attention on him long enough, you thought.

Azriel shook his head as he put his shirt back on. “Can we reschedule the regicide for another day,” he sighed. “He just wants to talk.”

“About what.”

“About you not being a threat to the Night Court. My impression is that you’re not currently helping your case, I’m sure you know why.”

“I don’t need that asshole’s permission-”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, and he took a slow step towards you. “Watch it.” he snapped.“You’ve made your opinion about him abundantly clear, but I won’t tolerate insults. You do, in fact, need his permission to be here, so I encourage you to take it down a notch and go talk to him.”

You gritted your teeth, pacing throughout the room. You’d tried all week to get a clearer idea of who Rhysand actually was, and you’d gotten nothing more than ‘You can ask him.’ in return. If anything, the evasiveness around the man’s character had only made you more distrustful of him.

Your twin shadows slithered back to you, reporting nothing other than the fact that Rhysand was clearly listening in. That, you’d expected.

“Fine. But if he tries anything-”

“He won’t.” Azriel assured you swiftly, almost pleading. “Nothing more than a conversation, I promise you.”

You barely kept yourself from flinching at his last words. ‘Promises’, you’d heard that too many times. Nevertheless, you finally nodded, and the relief on his face was clear as day. You knew this would happen sooner or later. He softly laid his hand on your lower back, careful to avoid sensitive areas, and ushered you towards the kitchen.

Rhysand sat comfortably with a bottle of red wine at the dining room table, his wings almost brushing the floor. The open layout of the kitchen gave you enough space that you weren’t anywhere near close to him, and you hesitated to come closer. Azriel tried to lead you to the delicately carved oak table to sit down as well, but you remained standing. He gave in to your silent compromise and leaned against the kitchen isle at your side. Your shadows kept to themselves, hiding in your feathers.

All three of you stood in silence for a moment, too tense for the situation to be considered awkward. This was a battle, you knew, and you would not lose. You kept your eyes firmly on Rhysand, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. Your mental walls were stacked as high as they could go, ready for assault.

Rhysand’s silken voice was the one to cut through the silence that hung over the room, gesturing towards you.

“So few words from someone who’d been planning my assassination only a second ago. Still thinking up new ways to accomplish the feat?”

“Depends.” you said, infusing boredom into your every word. “Are you here to taunt and provoke me, or can we talk like adults and get it over with?”

He tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “So preoccupied with efficiency. No word of thanks for the man who has so kindly let you into his court?”

“I never asked for anything. If you want me to leave, you just have to say the word.” you said flatly.

Azriel’s hold on the kitchen counter tightened and you took a step, your arm brushing his. In the periphery of your vision, you saw his hands loosen, shifting closer to you. Barely noticeable, but just enough for Rhysand to raise an eyebrow, and you hated how vulnerable such a simple act made you feel.

“Ah,” he said, looking towards Azriel, a glimmer in his eyes before turning back to you. “I see. Well, you haven’t caused any trouble yet, but you must understand why I’m curious about what this ‘training’ consists of. Care to clue me in?”

Azriel looked towards you, a nod toward Rhysand indicating not so subtly that you’d be doing the talking. You took a calming breath.

“We have been working on… powers I can apparently wield.” you said, carefully choosing each word. “More specifically, on finding a way for me to use them consciously rather than instinctively.”

“Go on.” Rhysand encouraged, firm but without any anger or surprise.

“We have confirmed that I can use someone else’s powers as my own, that’s what happened with Feyre in the study.”

His gaze wavered, brows furrowing. “And how are you sure that they’re not yours?”

You didn’t reply, instead willing your lighter shadow to slip out from your plumage and explore the room. It joined with Azriel’s own companions, briefly brushing against his dark curls before making its way towards the dining table. It flowed over the wooden surface, a small cloud of white smoke dancing just out of Rhysand’s reach. He leaned forward, inspecting it, but the shadow flickered and skittered back to you, taking refuge in your feathers once more.

“I’m not a Shadowsinger. Well, I wasn’t one before arriving in Velaris, at least.” Before you met Azriel, you noted to yourself. “We’re still not sure how it all works. Nesta explained that she didn’t feel any power missing, and Az…” You threw a glance at him in confirmation.

“I didn’t, don’t, feel anything amiss. With Nesta, it had stopped the second you’d realized what you were doing, but her shadows haven’t dissipated. I don’t understand how, but she does have the ability, Rhys.”

Rhysand looked… he looked concerned at the implications.

“They’re like familiars.” he mumbled.

“What?” you asked, his voice so low you couldn’t make out the words.

“They’re like familiars.” he said again, louder. “When you conjure them, you use a burst of energy in a short period of time that lingers over time. They don’t fade away because in normal circumstances they don’t need a constant flow of power.”

“That could explain it.” Azriel said, nodding, “We haven’t tested the limits of it so far. Training has been…” he hesitated, and you froze. It was true that there were many words one could use to describe how you’d progressed, ‘not at all’ and ‘a waste of time’ at the front of your mind.

“Progress as been next to non-existent.” you cut in. Azriel frowned at your side and went to speak again, most probably to tell you that your shadows were a good sign of progress, but you didn’t give him the chance to coddle you. “At this rate, I might be able to start a forest fire in a couple centuries. I’m more of a danger to myself than to any of you.”

Both of their eyes snapped to yours, and you winced at Azriel’s concern. Ah, why were you never able to keep yourself from oversharing?

“What do you mean, Dove?” he asked carefully.

“Look,” you said, avoiding his stare, “We’ve established that these powers are not mine, and that they don’t come from your reserves either. I’m apparently making up these abilities out of thin air. So, where’s the catch, who or what’s paying for it? There has to be a give and take, there always is. I might not have noticed anything yet, but something or someone is paying the price for what I’m doing.”

In truth, the thought had lingered in the back of your mind since the moment Nesta had revealed her power was intact after your scuffle. You were bargaining with powers you did not understand, racking up a debt of uncertain value, and you didn’t see a scenario in which it would end well.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel breathed, his hand gently guiding your head back to him. You were still very aware of Rhysand’s presence in the room and his analysis of you both, and you pushed away to walk to the other side of the kitchen counter. You still refused to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. I… have to train, don’t I? That’s how I can stay here.” With you, you didn’t add, trying and failing to sound as detached as you were earlier. “I understand the conditions of my presence here, and what will happen if I’m considered a possible threat.”

Azriel ran a frustrated hand through his hair and a low growl escaped him, his shadows rippling around him with a renewed fervor like winds in a storm. Your own were pleading to join them, but you held firm against their song.

“Dove, you-”

Rhysand’s voice resounded gravely across the room, stopping him in his tracks. “I think we need to clarify some things.” he said, looking unpleased at Azriel.

There it was, you thought, you’d given yourself away. What High Lord would let you in their court when you were possibly putting citizens in danger? You were nothing but a volatile threat to a leader. You reinforced your mental shields, forcing yourself not to flinch when you felt the unfortunate familiar talons grate at your mind, and furtively looked around the room. Your inability to keep your mouth shut was once again going to cost you your freedom.

Not this time.

Two doors, 3 windows. The windows were out of the question, you could never fit your wings through them despite their size, and one of the doors was blocked by Azriel’s large frame and his own fully flared wings. A common sign of anger, you knew that.  That left the other door, the easiest to reach. Only a few feet to your right, right where the dining room seemed to start. Past that, no obstacles other than the front door. You evaluated the distance of the two men in relation to yourself.

You could make it, but you’d have to fly to get away, if you even could. You’d used the privacy of your guest room to stretch and move them, but you weren’t sure you could hoist yourself up in the air. There was a small ridge overlooking the Sidra next to this house… maybe it would be enough to bring you airborne. You’d just have to climb the stairs to the lookout.

You’d have no choice but to try. You tensed, ready to spring into action.

Rhysand’s voice resonated through the room again with an edge it had previously lacked. “Did you think you were on trial?”

Azriel took a step towards you, and you took one in turn towards the door. Your chest squeezed at the hurt that flashed across his face. You wished you could go to him, you wanted to go to him, but he was still a subject of the Night court. Rhysand called the shots. Had all of this been a set up?

“Aren’t I?” you asked carefully, keeping both men within your sights as you angled yourself subtly towards your planned exit.

“No, of course not!” Azriel protested sharply, taking another step. You did the same. He looked agitated, too agitated.

“You are not a prisoner here,” Rhysand stated, “and it seems that our good clueless friend here seems to not have made it clear enough.”

You stilled under their eyes, evaluating the situation. You wouldn’t be able to detect deception from Rhysand, not if he’d been fooling the entirety of Prythian for centuries. Instead, you looked towards Azriel.

You almost stepped forward at the devastation you found in him and his surrounding shadows, the latter reacting to the desperate song yours sent their way. Maker, it was all you could hear, the deafening silence broken only by their longing. Azriel took another step, raising a hand towards you gently.

“Az, don’t-” Rhysand warned, but it did not reach his brother’s ears.

“Dove, please, we only want to help you.”

Help you? Voices rang around you. Your scars were flayed back to life, flames licking at your back and wings.

‘Quit whining child, this is all for your own good.’

‘You can end the pain if you earn it.’

‘We’ll stop if you stop hiding your powers, dear.’

‘We’re only trying to help you; you’ll be grateful when you’re older.’

‘We’re only trying to help-’

‘We’re only trying to help-’

No, no, no, no, no, not again-

Your head yelled at you to run, run, run. Darkness, your mind wished for, darkness. Rhysand’s darkness, you realized. You couldn’t tell who started it, him or you, but an absolute void of light was created, snuffing out the sunlight streaming through the windows as easily as you would a candle. You heard Azriel shouting your name in the pitch black of the room, but you were already running. His voice followed you into the sun.

It was only when you reached the rocky ledge that you dared to look back. Azriel was right outside the house, violently trying to shake off the grip Rhysand had on him, holding him back. You couldn’t make out what he was saying to the shaking man in his arms through the ringing in your ears.

Azriel shouted for you one last time, eyes wide, when you used your momentum to propel you off the rocks of the lookout in a dive down towards the Sidra’s rushing water. It enveloped you in its noise and offered you a brief respite from your mind.

At the last moment possible, praying to the Mother to give you a helping hand this one time, you snapped your wings open to catch an air current. You thrust desperately against gravity, every muscle in agony, and your confidence wavered as you approached the water rapidly. If you hit the surface at this speed, you thought, at least it would be a swift death.

You doubled your efforts with a roar, using every second of your training to save you from the icy wall, still going down, down down until- you finally caught a strong draft. The tips of your feathers barely brushed the water, a moment stopped in time as you witnessed the reflection of your spread wings at your sides, black and white shining in the sun’s light, before you were shooting back into the sky.

You didn’t dare look back as you shot through the sky, heading for anywhere that wasn’t here.           

Okay first off- this is not edited, I got REALLY tired of waiting to find the time and I wanted to give you guys something! I'll probably go over it in the next few days.

We've got some angst today (I'm a whore for trust/betrayal storylines, can you tell?) and FINALLY a reveal of her ability to fly!! Rhysand tried to do damage control, at least x)

If I break up the next chapters like planned, the next one will be the first of the final story arc (the last one planned, anyways) and lemme tell y'all its WILD

Please tell me your thoughts, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa @minnieoo @weasleyreidstyles @anuttellaa

[porschesbabydaddy]

Very Important and Very Scientific Kinnporsche Driving Skills Research

As you all know, my number one priority during this rewatch was to answer the burning question that I’m sure we all have on our minds: which of these bitches can drive? Below are the results of that research, and also my own personal opinions regarding driving skills and abilities.

Characters who have canonical driving evidence

Kinn (seen driving in eps 5 and 12)

Vegas (seen driving a motorcycle in multiple eps)

Kim (seen driving in ep 13)

Porsche (seen driving a motorcycle in multiple eps)

Big ( seen driving a motorcycle in ep 5)

Ken (seen driving a motorcycle in ep 5)

Chan (presumably drove in ep 12 to bring Korn to Porsche’s house)

Arm (seen driving in ep 3)

Pete (seen driving in ep 5 and seen behind the wheel in ep 6)

Characters with no canonical driving ability evidence

Tankhun

Chay

Pol

Characters who I believe can drive (regardless of canonical evidence), ranked from best to worst

Chan: Shocking no one, I think there are very few things that Daddy Chan can’t do, and do well. He taught the main family boys how to drive, to varying degrees of success

Kim: You think that little control freak is willing to let anyone else drive him around? He took supplementary driving lessons and everything, just because he’s extra like that. Chay thinks he looks incredibly sexy behind the wheel, which is even more of a reason for him to drive as much as possible

Vegas: Vegas has never met a petty skill that he doesn’t have to beat Kinn at. He drives a little recklessly but he has the skills to handle it and I think that’s very sexy of him

Arm: Arm is a very middle of the road driver. He’s not the guy you wanna have behind the wheel if you need to do evasive manoeuvres or fancy tricks, but he’ll get you where you wanna go and really, who could ask for more? If he was my Uber driver I’d give him five stars (and maybe my number idk)

Pete: Pete is an okay driver, but he absolutely hates doing it. Once he leaves the main family you will not catch him behind the wheel of a car, that’s what he has Vegas for

Kinn: Sure, Kinn can drive, but should he? Probably not. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s had to drive himself since he took the road test, and it shows

Big: As with Kinn, being ABLE to drive doesn’t mean he SHOULD drive. His road rage is legendary, and very few people are comfortable being in the car when he is behind the wheel

Characters I believe can’t drive, regardless of canonical evidence

Porsche: Porsche is on this list because while he can handle a motorcycle like a dream, if you try to make him drive a car he will have a panic attack. It’s a combination of Trauma™️ and just a lack of opportunity to drive a car. When he has to be in a car, it’s best that he remains a passenger princess

Chay: When would he ever have the opportunity to learn? Porsche may have offered to teach him to ride his motorcycle, but why bother when he has his Hia to drive him wherever he needs to go

Pol: Personally I think he just never got his license before becoming a bodyguard, and mysteriously avoids having to get one whenever it’s brought up during his evaluations. It’s fine though, that’s what Arm and (pre-coup) Pete are for

Tankhun: Tankhun took his road test at the insistence of his father and then immediately purged all knowledge of how to drive from his brain. Gorgeous gorgeous girls should NEVER have to operate a motor vehicle

Characters who I believe technically can drive, but aren’t allowed to

Ken: Worse road rage than Big, he is only allowed to ride a motorcycle and even then only in extreme circumstances. He is the type to follow you to your destination and beat your ass if you piss him off in traffic

Macau: He got his license and promptly had it confiscated by Vegas within a week. Macau has never met a reckless driving stunt that he didn’t immediately want to try out himself. He thinks speed limits are a gentle suggestion and he isn’t interested in hearing them

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Eddie Disappears

Okay so after venca and all that is over. Like TOTALLY over. Everyone is settling back down. Max is healing. She can see a bit but not great. Can't really walk very far without needing help. Basically everyone is traumatized as fuck. But Eddie keeps having night terrors. So bad that Max can hear him sometimes at night from her trailer.

And then one day, Steve and Dustin stop by Eddie's to get some dnd things dustin left there, and the trailer is cleaned out, all of Wayne and Eddie's stuff is gone. But there's a box in the living room with Dustin's dnd stuff, and a few extra things. But Eddie and Wayne are gone. Without a word. Dustin and the gang try to figure out what happened, for awhile, but they eventually give up. Just decide that Wayne took Eddie away from the town that broke him.

Two years later, Dustin is flipping through one of the books Eddie had left for him and a peice of paper falls out of it, he'd somehow never seen it before, picks it up, and it's covered in Eddie’s hand writing. It's a goodbye note. And it tells Dustin they were right, that Wayne took him away. But it also tells him goodbye. And that he'll miss him. And, at the very bottom, there's a phone number.

Dustin’s stomach drops. He runs for the phone. Calls the number. It rings out. So he calls again. And again. And eventually, someone answers. It's not Eddie. But Dustin asks if they know him? They say no. So he asks if they know Wayne. And they say,

"wayne munson? Oh yeah. Eddie must be his boys name. What can i do for you?" And so Dustin leaves his name and number. Tells them to tell Eddie he can call ANY TIME.

They say they'll pass on the message. That it might take awhile cuz they don't see Wayne everyday. Dustin says it's fine. But he's on edge for almost a week. Doesn't go hang with anyone. Max and Steve come to his house and wait with him. The others all coming and going as well. And then one day, El's on the couch, laying with her head in Max's lap, but she sits up suddenly, Max and Lucas are both like,

"what is it babe?" And she just looks at the phone, whispers,

"Eddie." and then the phone rings.

Dustin launches himself at it. Steve catches him when he stumbles at one point says,

"be careful. Jesus" but he sounds on edge. Dustin grabs the phone almost screams into it,

"Eddie!?!" There's a beat before he hears.

"Hey Henderson. How're things?" And his voice is quiet, not like the Eddie Dustin remembers but he almost immediately starts crying into the phone, lets out a sobbing ramble about how he hadn't found the letter til just now. He would have called sooner. He doesn't know how he missed it. He'd looked through that book so many times over the years. And he can't catch his breath at one point so Lucas takes the phone, and he's crying too when he says hi to Eddie. And he's like,

"hey kid. How's the sports career? You make it big yet?" And Lucas laughs, his head on d

Dustins shoulder as Steve does his best to calm him down. And Eddie hears Steve's voice, plays it cool when he says,

"Steve there too? Is the whole fucking party there? Jesus." But Lucas is like,

"not all of us today. But El and Max are here too. Oh hang on, Max wants to talk to you!" And he sounds so happy before he hands the phone over and she's like,

"hey asshole. Where the fuck have you been?" And that's what breaks Eddie. He starts crying, but he laughs too. Because he misses them all, so fucking much. And he ends up back on the phone with Dustin, telling him it's okay. He misses him too. And d

Dustin sniffles out,

"Even Steve?" Trying to make a joke, not knowing how it pulls at Eddie's chest. But he just laughs into the phone and says,

"yeah. Even steve." And they talk for a bit. Eddie being kind of evasive about where he is. But he tells Dustin he still plays music, not with a band. But that he works on cars too. Fixes things. Tells Dustin how it makes him feel useful. Dustin of course tells him he's always been useful. And then Dustin hears Wayne's voice in the background, asking who he's talking too. Tells him to tell the kids hi when he hears who it is, but that they have to go. So he says goodbye. Tells him he'll call when he can.

But a few months later Eddie tells him he wont be able to call anymore. That some... stuff. Is happening. He sounds tired. Exhausted. And Dustin just wants to see him. But he doesn't even know where Eddie IS. and Eddie just kind of, sighs defeatedly, and is like,

"I wish I could tell you more man. I just- I need you to know I'm okay. And I'll contact you when I can. I'll send a post card or something." He huffs a laugh, Dustin laughs too but he's crying again. Steve puts his hand on his shoulder. Because he's there everytime eddie calls. Says its for Dustin.

But he can hear Eddie on the phone sometimes, and he's never talked to him, not once, but he wants too. He's just not brave enough, not sure what he'd even say. So he's just there for Dustin and that's enough. He tells himself it is at least. And Dustin hangs up and he's crying and Steve just holds him through it. And wishes he'd been brave enough to talk to Eddie. To ask him where the hell he is? And if he could bring the kids to see him. Or just come see him himself. But he hadn't been.

It takes three more years for Dustin to hear from Eddie again. He gets a post card. From Indianapolis. It's just a picture of the city, Eddie's drawn a little stick figure of himself on it. There's no return address. But he says he misses them all, so much, (yes. Even s

Steve). And that he's sorry its been so long. Dustin cries again of course. His mom had mailed the post card to him at college. Just forwarded it on.

He calls Steve. Tells him about it. And Steve drives up to his campus to see it. Dustin watches the way he moves his thumb over his name on the card. His brow crinkles as he watches Steve and it finally clicks. Steve moves to hand it back and dustin just holds his hand up, says,

"you keep it." And Steve tries to argue but d

Dustin gives him this LOOK. so Steve keeps it. Tucks it into his pocket gently. And pins it to the bulletin board in his room when he gets home to his and Robin's apartment.

They move into the city about 4 months later. He and Robin. The kids are finishing up college. Steve had somehow found out that he could blow glass. Like... really well. It's hot, and it's hard work, and it takes so much focus, and Steve fucking loves it. He can make all kind of things. But he's gotten very good at making dragons. Dustin bought his first one from him, was obsessed with it. And had earnestly told him that Eddie would have fucking loved it.

So Steve bends glass into magical weird little creatures. Takes commissions from all the kids, but mostly Will. Will draws designs for him and Steve just pushes and pulls at hot glass until they come to life.

Robin does... so many things. She's a for hire translator, which keeps her moving around the city and keeps her brain moving. She's learned 4 more languages since Scoops and is learning another one. She has like, 3 other jobs too, one working with Nancy, Nancy is a journalist, Robin helps her hunt down stories and get to the truth. Steve's pretty sure they're falling in love, is so happy for them.

He's not really dating anymore. He'd gone out with a few guys after Eddie left. All of them looking a bit too much like Eddie for comfort. Robin had the good grace to only comment on the 3rd one. And she's right. But none of them make Steve feel right. and the girls he's dated here and then don't either. So he just keeps to himself. Lives his life with his friends and he's happier than he's been in ages. 

But he still misses eddie. He touches the post card everytime he leaves his room in the morning and hopes Eddie is doing okay. That he's happy.

And then one day, maybe a year later, Steve goes to get coffee at this weird place he and Robin had found one day wandering the city. It's a cafeteria type place, huge, it's the whole lower level of a building around the corner from their place. It has cheap food, but it's good. and they have the best coffee Steve's ever had in his life. He's waiting in line, there's maybe five people in front of him.

It's a Saturday, so he doesn't have work, he's in no rush. And then his eyes land on a guy waiting for his coffee on the other side of the room, he's facing the door. So Steve can't see his face. But he's got longer hair, it's pulled back into two small buns near his ears, he turns a bit and Steve can see he's got bangs. His heart flutters a bit, so he looks away.

Cuz it can't be him. Its never him. No matter how much Steve wants it to be. Two people left in front of him, Steve's staring at the menu, pretending to read through it for the sixth time when he hears it.

"Eddie! Black coffee two sugars! For Eddie!" Steve freezes. Turns. Watches the guy he'd seen move foward, watches him reach out for his coffee, and almost fucking screams. His throat tightens, and he holds in a goddamn whine when he sees the rings on the guys fingers. The hair could be a coincidence, but not the rings. The guy nods at the girl who hands him his coffee and turns to the door.

And that's when Steve sees what he's wearing. A jean vest, over a red and black stripped hoodie, the vest has a large Dio patch on the back. It's a little more worn since Steve had last seen it, and there are new patches. He watches Eddie pull his hood up and duck out the far exit. Steve chokes, pushes his glasses up his nose, and starts running.

He dodges a few people carring food, calls out several sorry's over his shoulder before hurtling into the door, and then through it. The early morning sun is blinding as Steve looks from side to side, his eyes searching for the red and black stipes. He spots them to the left just as they disappear around the corner.

"Eddie." He'd meant to yell. But it comes out a breathy whisper so he starts running again.

"Eddie!" He tries again, gets it out. He rounds the corner, hears a little "huh?" Before he collides with the man. His coffee goes flying, Steve and the guy both reach for it but it's gone, over their heads. It hits the pavement and the cup explodes, sending coffee all over the street. Steve stares at it. And then hears,

"Steve?" Breathed out next to him. His name, and Eddie's voice, pull him back to what was happening. Steve turns, and finds Eddie, staring at him. His big brown eyes blinking at him owlishly. Steve is panting, from chasing him. He sees Eddie's hands shaking at his side and decides,

"fuck it" he whispers it and grabs Eddie. Pulling him into a tight hug. Eddie immediately hugs him back. His hands fisting in the back of Steve's fucking yellow sweater. Because of course he'd be wearing that one today. He thinks he hears Eddie sob into his shoulder, moves his hand to Eddie's neck, trying to sooth him.

"It's okay. Shh... I've got you." And Eddie laughs then, snorts into his shoulder and pulls back, but his hands on Steve, his fucking hands burning Steve where they sit on his hips.

"What?" Steve asks, his thumb rubbing at Eddie's neck, probably more intimate than it should have been, especially after all this time. Eddie just smiles. Shakes his head. And says.

"You uh ... you kind of always have." Steve frowns. So Eddie elaborates.

"Had me. I mean. You've had me." He seems breathless. And his eyes widen and then drop to the ground, he pulls his hands away from Steve's waist.

"Sorry. That was- sorry." He frowns, rubs at the back of his neck. Steve just smiles, moves into the space Eddie had put between them. He moves his hands to Eddie's waist. Pulls him closer again. Eddie's eyes snap to him, glued to Steve's face.

"You've had me too." Steve says, giving Eddie’s sides a squeeze, making him squirm away and laugh, it bursts out of him as he shoves Steve's hands away. Steve grabs him and pulls him closer again.

"Can I buy you a new coffee?" Steve asks, his cheeks heating up. Eddie smiles, bites his lip, and nods.

Eddie holds his arm out, Steve snorts and curls his arm around Eddie's as they walk back to the cafeteria. They sit and talk for hours, Eddie tells him where he's been. In and out of hospitals. His mental health growing and slipping for years. They'd had to shave his head, for all the scans and procedures and all that bullshit. Steve tells him it looks like its growing back nicely. Eddie smooths his hands over his bangs nervously. Tells Steve thanks, that he's doing better now. A lot better. Steve asks if he lives close. And eddie says,

"oh yeah, just right around the corner. On Park." And steve nearly chokes on his coffee.

"Park? Like Park and 5th?" Steve asks. And Eddie narrows his eyes at him and is like,

"Yeeeeess? Why?" And Steve says,

"Me and Rob live on park and 5th." And eddie sits back in his chair, scoffs a,

"fuck off. What building?" And Steve's like,

"702." And Eddie cackles and says,

"We're in 703!" And Steve laughs before it registers. He sobers, tries to play it cool like,

"oh! Uh..we?" And Eddie misses Steve's reaction, still laughing, just gives him an easy,

"Me and Wayne yeah!" And Steve's heart flutters again, and he lets it this time, because it's Eddie. Eddie fucking Munson is sitting in front of him. Eddie asks about the kids and Steve is like,

"oh fuck! I have to call Dustin!" And Eddie laughs but says,

"I have a better idea."

Eddie kisses him three hours laters. Breathes sorry's into his mouth as Steve gently takes his hair down and moves his fingers through it. Steve tells him he has nothing to apologize for.

They sit on Steve's couch, gentle kisses and touches passing betwern them until Robin gets home and loses her shit. They call the kids and arrange a dinner for Sunday night. Robin tells them they all have to act nice when they meet Steve's new guy. She tells them he's pretty serious about the guy, winking at the boys as they sit on the couch, cuddled close together.

The dinner is nuts. Everyone cries. Dustin doesn't let go of Eddie almost the whole night. Max fucking bites Eddie. And all he does is laugh. Lucas is a quiet crier, but Steve had seen Eddie follow him outside at one point and they'd been smiling when they came back in, Eddie's arm around his shoulder awkwardly, because Lucas was... quite a bit taller than him now.

Eddie brings Steve by his apartment to see Wayne. When Eddie tells him Steve and Robin live right across the fucking street Wayne just laughs, shakes his head. He sees the way Steve and Eddie look at each other, the way their hands are locked together. He puts his hand on Eddie's cheek and says,

"Funny how things work out isnt it?" And winks at him before leaving for work. Always working the night shift. Eddie smiles after him and then leans into Steve. They spend the night together, holding hands and kissing as they cuddle in Eddie's bed.

And in the morning, the sun falls in through the window and lands on something shiny, it draws Steve's attention from Eddie's face to his dresser. The sun illuminating a bright yellow glass dragon. A dragon that Steve had made three months ago while thinking about Eddie, and the stories Dustin had told him about their dnd sessions. He'd made it for Eddie. Thinking about him the whole time. It was a goddamn masterpiece. It had been sold by the time Steve came into the shop the next day.

Steve's heart pounds in his chest, his skin heating up like it does when he was at work, around the furnaces, knowing the dragon ended up where it was meant to be. He feels Eddie's fingers curl into his shirt. Looks back to him and receives a sleepy smile and a finger to his forehead.

"Why ya frownin?" He slurs, moving his hand down Steve's cheek, his thumb moving softly over Steve's cheekbone. Steve just smiles, cuddles further into Eddie and shakes his head before curling into Eddie's side, shoving his face into his neck and saying,

"it's just funny how things work out sometimes." Eddie chuckles, holds him close, soothes his hands over Steve's back and kisses his temple.

"Fucking hilarious" he whispers, digging his fingers into Steve's ribs, making him squawk as he flails backwards, Eddie chasing him, rolling over on top of him, grabbing his wrists deftly before Steve can retaliate with tickles of his own.

Eddie smiles down at him, his hair falling into his face, and Steve thinks he's finally found it. The place he'd been looking for. The one thing he'd  been missing. It had been Eddie the entire time. He was pretty sure he knew that. But it felt really good to be right for once.

Partial Eddie POV

So basically, Wayne took him away from h

Hawkins cuz he was having horrific night terrors. To the point that he was afraid to sleep. So he took him away. Took him to some specialists. He stayed in multiple mental health facilities, good ones, Wayne made sure of it. Didnt want Eddie any more traumatized than need be.

But it was the 80s. So the treatments were still rough. They did light electo therapy. Like, the smallest possible levels. Hence the hair shaving. For safety. They did brain scans and brain probes, more reasons for the shaving. And they poked and proded at his brain until he could finally finally sleep. And then he was released. Talked to Dustin on the phone.

But he started having relapses. He'd wake up in the middle of the night in random places. From sleep walking. And one night Wayne finds Eddie on the roof. And Eddie himself isn't sure if he was awake or not when he climbed up there, but he hadn't immediately gotten down. And that was obviously not good. So wayne takes him back to the hospital. And they start the tests again.

Eddie cries every night. He just wants to go home. To Wayne. To his friends. But he can't. It's too much for him to handle mentally. So there's lots of testing. More scans. And then they get him on a steady dose of meds, they monitor him on site for awhile, just to be sure the side effects don't hurt him more than they help. And for once, they don't.

Eddie feels good. But he can't play in front of people. Can't stand that many people looking at him now. His anxiety spikes and all his brain shows him are people accusing him of murder, yelling horrible things at him. He can play for small groups. And kids. And he's testing a guitar one day in the shop he's a regular in now, when a bunch of kids are there. And one of them, without a parent, tugs on his arm and sits next to him, big brown eyes looking up at him and he says,

"you're good at that. Can you teach me how?" His little hands reaching for the guitar. And Eddie's stomach swoops a little, nerves tingling. But he hands the guitar to the little boy, the little boy with eyes that remind of him of Steve's, and finds that he can. He can teach him. And either the kid is natural, or Eddie's a great teacher. Eddie thinks its probably a mix of both. But the older lady who owns the shop watches him, and watches a few more kids run up and ask too.

And Eddie just, shows them things, answers their questions. And when they all leave, the lady comes over, drops her hand gently on his shoulder and says,

"You're good with them." And Eddie blushes, mumbles a thanks as he packs up his guitar. And then she hands him something. A business card. She smiles as he takes it and flips it in his fingers, says,

"it's a small music school. They may not be able to pay as much as one of them fancy places. But they could use you. And maybe you could use them?" She gives him this look.

It's a look Eddie is used too, one Wayne has all the time. He thinks maybe everyone gets that look when they reach a certain age. Like the years in their life mount up and give them some kind of wisdom, and maybe a second sight, that they see things younger people don't. They see happiness, and sadness, pain and ways to relieve it.

Eddie thanks her, tucks the card in his pocket, and gives them a call two days later.

They hire him after his first interview. The kids love him. And the teachers are all in awe of the way he gets the kids to focus. He plays metal for the kids, and they all giggle when he head bangs for them. Tuesdays and Friday's are free request days. So the kids pick the music and Eddie teaches them what he hears.

The night terrors don't come back. He dreams about music now. Again. And his kids. The new and the old. And he dreams about Steve. Dreams about teaching him to play guitar.

And then one Saturday he hears his name, yelled out desperately behind him, so he turns and finds himself with a chest full of Steve fucking Harrington. A Steve wearing glasses and a bright yellow sweater. And his coffee is all over the street, but Steve had grabbed him, and Eddie had grabbed him back, and Eddie never wants to let him go.

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week 4 Day 2: Enough & Load

Can I Be Enough?

Determination can go a long way, but even then a body needs to rest. So when Shigaraki's body finally forces a shutdown in the middle of fighting the monster that is Gigantomachia, can Spinner pick up the slack?

“Does you have are being stupid?”

Even with Gigantomachia beginning to recover from the boulder dropped on his head, Spinner couldn’t help but pause at Shigaraki’s question. “…What?” he asked as he regained his bearings and disembarked said boulder before Machia could try swatting him.

Shigaraki attempted to repeat his earlier question, “Is you are stupid be?” By now Spinner had reach Shigaraki’s side and judging by how far back his eyes were rolled into his head Shigaraki was not doing great.

“Are you seriously trying to call me stupid when you can’t string a coherent sentence together?”, Spinner exclaimed. “The plan worked didn’t it,” Toga yelled as she joined the two, panting somewhat from the aerobics she had to do to keep Machia distracted, “Now we know that the big guy gets briefly stunned by surprise boulders to the head!”

“Almost pancake danger!” Shigaraki hollered.

“It’s Machia, everything’s dangerous!” Spinner shot back. “Look, save the lecture for after your next three-hour nap, you sleep deprived dingus!”

Shigaraki took far too long to process what Spinner said, but responded with a simple flash of the peace out sign… then immediately face-planted the forest floor.

Rushing over, Spinner flipped his leader over to listen for a pulse as Toga checked his breathing.

“Oh thank fuck he’s not dead!” Spinner sighed in temporary relief.

“I’m surprised he was able to stay awake this long,” Toga fretfully commented, “but at least Dabi owes me money now.”

“Screw money! He can’t fight like this, we need backup! Where’re the others?”

“They should be finishing up their break!”

“Call them! Call them now!”

“There’s no service here!”

“Are you kidding me?! Find a hotspot!”

“I think service is better closer to the towns!”

“Then go!”

“Hold on I can buy you some time!”

Toga grabbed Shigaraki’s face and quickly licked off as much blood as she could, transforming into him as she gave Spinner one last bit of advice, “You’ve got five minutes before I change back, scatter!” With that, she started booking it down the mountain with Machia in pursuit, only slightly thrown off by Himiko’s evasive vanishing technique.

Refusing to waste any more time, Spinner quickly picked up his unconscious leader and maneuvered him onto his back, then yanked his scarf from around his neck to tie it around their waists, securing Shigaraki in a makeshift piggyback ride. As he began to run, Spinner ripped two pieces of fabric from his mask and tied them to Shigaraki’s pinkies to prevent any accidental decaying, knowing that he couldn’t keep his leader from getting killed by Machia if he himself died in the process.

‘He’s lighter than I thought he’d be,’ Spinner observed as he leaped over fallen logs.

‘I could’ve sworn he built some muscle while fighting Rockjaw McGee the past two months,’ he ruminated as he felt the ground rumbling as Machia pivoted to close in the gap he worked so hard to build.

‘Am I doing enough to help him?’ he questioned as he dodged the stones being chucked at him from afar.

‘Am I not carrying my fair share of the load?’ he pondered as he scaled a cliff face and cleared the edge just before Machia ran straight into it.

‘If I could just get a stab in, or maybe yeet another rock at his eye, would that be enough?’ he deliberated as he launched himself from tree branch to tree branch, with Machia swatting at the parts of the forest canopy where Shigaraki’s scent was but never landing a hit.

‘Fuck if I could just make this fight a little bit easier for Shigaraki once he wakes up, I wouldn’t feel so damn useless!’ he berated himself, Machia’s roaring engulfing all the sounds of the wilderness yet still unable to drown out Spinner’s own self-loathing.

It felt like days had passed, but was likely only a few hours after Shigaraki collapsed that Gigantomachia reached his 48-hour limit and ended his pursuit to bury himself into the ground for his nap. Every muscle in Spinner’s body was sore, but he had just enough strength to climb back down the cedar tree he had perched in, careful to make sure Shigaraki didn’t slip out now that the chase was over. He startled and moved to shield his leader when he heard the nearby rustling of foliage getting trampled, then relaxed as Toga burst through the bushes.

“We’re here,” cried Toga, with Mr. Compress and Twice hot on her tail, “Are you okay? Did you get squished?”

“We survived,” Spinner panted, shuffling over to the rest of his group, “barely, but we did.”

“Thank goodness you’re both okay.” Twice cried with joy, “We ran all the way up for nothing?!”

“Well look on the bright side,” Mr. Compress stated as he took in the mound where Machia had settled in for his nap. “Now that we’re here early we have more time to plan our next 48-hour match.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until Shigaraki wakes back up?” Spinner questioned. “Too late… ‘m up,” slurred a voice from behind him, and Spinner lowered down to let his newly awoken leader off his back. “What’d I miss?”

“You ate shit on the forest floor so Spinner outmaneuvered Machia while carrying your dead weight like a sack of potatoes!” Toga gleefully explained.

“Shit,” Shigaraki panicked, “did you die?!”

“Does he look dead to you?” Toga deadpanned.

“I mean did my quirk injure you?” Shigaraki clarified, checking Spinner over for cracks anyway.

“No I’m fine,” Spinner reassured him, “Just exhausted and frustrated that I couldn’t do any more than run away and try not to get us killed. I didn’t even get a single hit on Machia except that boulder.”

“Who cares if you didn’t land a meaningful blow? I don’t!” Shigaraki exclaimed, taking a second to face Spinner completely before continuing. “In the face of a man the size of a literal mountain, you held him off and kept me alive with only your physical abilities and intuition. In my book that’s more than enough. You’re enough, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise because I will fight them.”

Spinner really hoped Toga stayed silent because he knew he was flushed pink and if she chose now to start getting mushy, he would surely combust and undo all the progress he made in prolonging his friend’s lifespan.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part three (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: angst, mentions of trauma and violence

Part two

Part three

Tag list: open

Eris shows up at the Spring court and finds Y/n alive. Also, Y/N finds out who Feyre is.

“So what, this Amarantha person took your eye and… what?  Why didn’t anyone stop her?” I asked Lucian as I worked on a particularly nasty piece of rotting wood.

After a week or two at Tamlin’s manor, I got sick of the rotting place and decided to start fixing it up.

I would be in the night court by now if my brother had responded to the letters from both Tamlin and Lucian to get his ass over here, but apparently he couldn’t be bothered.

It probably would have been more effective if he knew why he was coming over here, but all three of us agreed that if anyone learned of my presence here…

Well, we all remember what happened with Tamlin’s family.

“It wasn’t exactly like anyone could.”  Lucian said as I finished ripping out the last piece of rotted wood.  I would have to chop down a tree or something to replace it.

“Did Tamlin agree to this?”  He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re being evasive again Luce.”  I said, and he half growled at the old nickname.

“Amarantha named herself High Queen for fifty years before anyone was able to put her down.”  Lucian said after a moment. And I froze.

“Why didn’t the high lords fight back?”  I asked, horrified.

He helped me gather the rotting wood to take outside.  “She tricked all the High lords, poisoned them really, so they no longer had their powers.”

I bit my lip, trying not to sound too concerned as I asked, “What happened to my brother?”

Lucian seemed prepared for the question, replying easily, “If he ever shows up, you can ask him yourself.”

I let the subject drop, snorting.  “I honestly don’t know how you put up with him if he’s always this obstinate.”

“Oh, he always is, but you learn to deal with it.”

Lucian and I both whipped around to see Eris standing there, looking neatly composed with a bit of a smile on his face.

I tried not to smirk.  He had to have been watching, and the Eris I knew would have taken a moment to freak out before coming out so calm and collected.

“Hello Eris.”  I said, before Lucian could say anything.  “It’s been awhile.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, and suddenly Lucian was looking back and forth between us, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Eris and I had been friends for a long time before my death, before everything happened with Mor.  Before he had to make a horrible choice.

Before Eris could respond, I heard a growl, and saw that Tamlin had shown up, staring down the heir of Autumn.

“Leave.”  Tamlin said with a hostility that almost made me flinch.

Almost.

“I think I have some information you’d like to hear regarding our little lady’s circumstances.  If we can still even call her a lady?”  He asked, and I recognised it more as a question than a taunt.

Game on.

“Well, I think that depends on my brother, if he ever bothers to show up.”  I said, unable to help the smile that spread across my face.

Eris seemed to relax a little bit, grinning back at me.

Meanwhile, Lucian and Tamlin were standing on the sidelines, their confusion obvious.

“I honestly don’t know what your brother’s thinking, especially after Elain’s vision.”  He said, shrugging casually.

“Elain had a vision?”  Lucian asked, stepping in between us.

“Um, even more importantly, who’s Elain?”  I asked, looking between Lucian and Eris..

Eris shot his brother and Tamlin a nasty look.  “You didn’t tell her about Feyre or her sisters?”

Neither of them responded, and I pushed Lucian to the side gently.  “No, they have not.”

Eris’s face hardened, obviously pissed with the other two Males.  “Feyre is your brother's mate.  They have a son.”

I stand there, reeling as Eris smirks at me, less harsh than his usual expressions.  “Their name is Nyx.”

I whirled around.  “You two better have a damned good explanation why I haven’t heard about this yet.”

Tamlin refused to look at me, and Lucian’s jaw worked, looking for a good explanation.

“It’s because Feyre was going to marry Tamlin, and things went horribly wrong and the High Lord of Spring doesn’t want to explain how he kidnapped your brother’s mate and she tore down his whole court.”  Eris said, smirking at Tamlin, who let out a growl.

I took a moment, before sighing.  “That… that’s just- Tamlin, seriously?”  I turned to look at him, more disappointed than angry.

He looked taken aback by my response, just totally stunned I hadn’t… what?  What did he think I was going to do?

“I don’t know this Feyre, and I don’t know what happened.  It’s not my place to pass judgment on events I don’t know about.”  I said, a little pissed that they were all still waiting for me to start a ruckus.

I turned, storming off back to The Manor.

Assholes.  All of them.

Eris winnowed in front of me, far enough away from the others that he lets his mask drop, his face falling into one of worry.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”  He said quietly.

His brow was scrunched up in worry, his lips slightly open as his orange eyes examined me with such an intensity I started to blush.

“No, it’s fine.  I guess I’m just sick of those two acting like I’m a ticking time bomb.”  I said, letting out a little puff of air.

He continued to examine me.  “You’ve changed, you know that?”  He asks, teasing just slightly.

I nod slightly.  “Was I really that volatile before?”  I ask in a whispered voice.

He smiles.  “I wouldn’t think of it like that.  Everyone in this land is volatile.”  He smiles at me, his eyes tired.  “Whatever you’ve been through, you’ve come out of it a kinder soul.”

I snort, rolling my eyes.  “Sappy.”

He winks at me.  “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

[rose-n-gunses]

8, 9, and 23 for hellcheer please 🩷

Absolutely! Thanks for the ask! 🤍

8 - What do they love most about each other? Why?

Things hellcheer love about each other? Uh. Everything. Next question! (Kidding)

Chrissy loves how Eddie is pretty much never afraid to be himself. He doesn't give a shit about what other people think or say about him most of the time. Even before they got together, she always admired his confidence and it inspired her to be a little more confident with herself.

Eddie loves how kind Chrissy is. She treats everyone with the respect they deserve. (Which, in some cases, is none. And he loves just as much, if not more, how much of a capital b Bitch she can be in those situations.) She has seemingly endless patience, which he greatly appreciates, but she also will not stand for anyone's bullshit -- not even his.

9 - What do they dislike most about the other? Why?

Chrissy can get kind of fed up with Eddie's lack of organization. (I mean. You saw how many places he had to look for the special k. The maid took the week off.) She knows it's mostly not his fault but she's so used to her space being nearly pristine that a slight mess in Eddie's room drives her insane. (Don't even get her started on the two-weeks-old pizza box she knows is under his bed.)

Eddie doesn't like how Chrissy never talks about her feelings. He's not always the best at noticing nonverbals or emotional subtext or whatever, so if she says she's fine then he assumes she's fine (and is extremely confused when he comes into the living room half an hour later and finds her crying on the couch). He would much prefer it if she would just come out with it and simply tell him what's wrong so he can fix it for her rather than have her be evasive about it or just hint at something being wrong.

23 - What are the defining characteristics of their relationship?

Undying loyalty and unwavering support! They are 4lifers, ride or dies, soulmates, everything. They will always side with each other and protect each other. They're attuned to each other on some psychic or cosmic level so they always see things about the other that nobody else sees. They seem like opposites but actually have a lot in common, which means they can relate to each other and find comfort and support in that.

[5eraphim]

If you are okay with any poly asks/requests how about Demo and Soldier (kidnap) take their partner (afab) out to a random forest and hunt them down (primal play) because they were being a brat and teasing them.

(Soldier would have great tracking skills considering he is canonically friends with raccoons. And Demo would have a blast.)

This was HEAVILLY inspired by the Robert Hansen music video by SKYND. legit heard this song for the first time i think a week ago and I knew right away it was the perfect inspiration for this story. i don't know why my brain allowed this request to gather dust for months, but then heard one song that goes hard and then finishes it in a few days?? as always, i apologize for taking forever, but more importantly thank you for the request, i hope you like how this turned out.

Title: Hunting Party

Characters: The Soldier 🦅 and Demoman 🐏

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, GO PLAY OUTSIDE)

Content Warnings: Noncon, death threats, stalking, blades, guns/getting shot, Dark! Characterization, outdoor sex, double penetration, rough, AFAB reader/female terms used, fearplay, primal play, blood, depersonalization, boot licking, bukkake, threeway

Word Count: 5.2k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

"When you become separated or isolated in a hostile area, your evasion and survival skills will determine whether or not you return to friendly lines... With training, equipment, and the will to survive, you can overcome any obstacle you may face. You will survive. Understand the emotional states associated with survival. "Knowing thyself" is extremely important in a survival situation." U.S. Army Ranger handbook (Chapter 14, Sections 1-2)

"When you're on the march, act the way you would if you were sneaking up on a deer. See the enemy first" Major Robert Rogers, 1759

The sun began to set a little lower, and you were painfully lost in the middle of the woods. Your hands were cold; a bitter wind blew from behind, rustling the shriveled mid-autumn leaves over your head. It must've been hours, shambling fruitlessly through the dense forest, searching for an exit, praying you would find a way out before something else found you first.

For some reason, you couldn't remember exactly what happened earlier during the day leading up to this situation. You'd woken up disoriented, your head aching, and with no knowledge of where you were or how you wound up here. It hurt to move upon awakening, your head felt heavy and slow with drowsiness, and your joints were stiff and protested moving too quickly. It took much time and concentration to ease your body out of the fetal position you awoke from. A worn, dingy-smelling sleeping bag was the only thing separating your body from the cold ground. While a hooded jacket, long work pants, and thick-soled boots helped save you from the chill, your fingers were freezing after being exposed to the cold air unmoving for so long. As you began to rub them together to work up some friction to bring the feeling back into your hands, you spotted a rock pinning a slip of paper to the far corner of the sleeping bag where you'd be sure to find it. 

You reached out to read the note,

"You've been getting too comfortable slacking off. You ought to learn how to take your job seriously. It's time you remember who you answer to. Let's see if you can get out of this one on your own."

"We'll give you a few hours headstart. Good luck."

Beneath the message, you recognized the messy signatures of two comrades, the Demoman and the Soldier. For a moment, you sat there motionless, holding the note in your hands, unsure if this was all some elaborate practical joke. Though you had to admit, if there were two people you knew who would try to teach you a lesson by forcing you into a near-death experience, it would be these two. 

Eventually, you forced yourself to your feet, ultimately accepting that if you wanted to get out, you'd have to find it on your own. It wasn't long until paranoia began to set in. Whenever you heard rustling from the bushes, a twig snap, or any other sign of movement in the distance, you instantly froze up, looking around and over your shoulder, expecting to see them there. 

The sound of a rifle firing in the distance stopped you dead in your tracks. Any fleeting hope that all this was some "game" died at that moment. "They wouldn't kill me; they couldn't possibly go through with it; there's no way they would go so far just because you broke a few rules…" You reasoned internally, but even if you didn't think they were out to kill you, not knowing what they had planned felt much more sinister. While the shot resounded far in the distance, you got the message loud and clear: You weren't alone anymore. Your headstart was over, and the hunt was on.

Forcing yourself to stop looking behind, you faced forward and began bolting at full speed straight ahead, treading as quietly as possible to avoid making too much noise. The sun was setting faster now, causing the shadows in the woods to stretch further in the dwindling light, though it was cold comfort, as once the sun set entirely, you knew you didn't have a prayer of finding your way out. 

From a distance behind, you could hear Demo's voice, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty-" 

His little taunt sent a chill down your spine, only spurring you on all the faster. 

"Come out, come out wherever you aa-are!" After this, you could hear the two of them taunting you from behind, and you could swear you could even hear them getting closer, beginning to close the distance between you and them.

"I'm NOT prey! I'm not going to let him get to me! I'll be free soon; I won't let them win!" You weren't a piece of meat for them to stalk and slaughter; you had to keep reminding yourself. They were taunting you, trying to get in your head, mind games, and nothing more. While you still had a decent amount of distance between you and them, you continued to move as stealthily as possible, darting from shadow to shadow, keeping your weight mainly on the balls of your feet, crouching toe-first through the foliage to keep your steps as silent. Overhead, a crow cried out abruptly, startling you and forcing you to cover your mouth with your hands to keep from crying out. You knew if they weren't hot on your trail before, they knew now exactly where you were. You were unable to keep from trembling as you heard footsteps echoing closer. 

For just one moment, you faltered, considering briefly if you stopped running, you had a chance of trying to negotiate with them, reasoning if you surrendered, maybe they would go easy on you. After all, they'd enjoyed the thrill of tracking you down, stalking you through the woods 'till they were right behind. Wasn't that enough? 

In a split second, you stopped running, knowing the two were right around the corner; you slowed to a stop, forcing yourself to stand your ground on shaky legs, knowing your hunters were right around the corner. Though the moment you were caught in Solly's crosshairs, he didn't wait for a second before pulling the trigger, sending a bullet ripping past you, clipping your hip as it fired past you.

In a matter of seconds, you went from looking at the men before you to the forest floor as you fell face-forward, using your arms to brace your fall as you screamed in pain as hot blood oozed down the side of your leg. By the grace of God, the bullet hadn't lodged inside of you, though you had no clue if that was on purpose or not. It was far from the worst pain you've felt before, but it was enough to quickly down you. You could hear the sound of the two drawing closer but were in too much pain to look up as you curled into the fetal position, drawing as inward as tight as possible, as though that would save you.

They won. You were downed and bleeding at their feet with nothing to protect yourself. Nearly all your energy and will to fight back was drained, and you felt like a lamb seconds before the slaughter. You were terrified during the chase but managed to keep your wits about you. But your sanity was slipping fast. Despite everything, you had a bad feeling the bullet-graze wound would be only the start of your pain tonight. You cowered beneath a massive oak, illuminated by the flashlight attached to Solly's rifle. Pushing yourself off the ground with a grunt, you force yourself to sit back up, your knees propped up under your chin.

You glared up at the man from your position sprawled out on the ground as he glared at you with an expression of equal anger, "What's the matter, cadet? No more fight left in ya?"

As if you could try and keep running, even if you wanted to. But seeing Solly's loaded rifle pointed at you kept you from saying anything sarcastic for fear of upsetting him. Trying to choose your words carefully, you asked, "Is this the end of the hunt?"

Solly sneered, "Do you surrender?"

Trying not to sound snarky, you answered, "Do you think I could run away like this?"

"He asked ya a question- Do ya surrender?" Demo interrupted. Though he didn't have a firearm pointed at you, the throwing ax in his hand frightened you worse than Solly's rifle. 

You nodded, having already accepted defeat. "Fine. You win, I surrender… Now what?"

"It depends. Have you learned your lesson?" Solly spoke, lowering his weapon slightly.

"What?" you questioned, almost shrill with annoyance and fear. The blood seeped in throbbing pulses from your hip, disorienting you to the world around you, and trying to decipher what these two maniacs wanted only furthered your confusion.

Thankfully, rather than lashing out again, Solly explained in his usual gruff, authoritative tone, "You're always slacking off on missions and at work back at base! Trying to ditch work and head out early! You are the laziest Engineer to ever work for our team! If Dell saw what you've done in his place, he'd shoot you! You're a disgrace to your class, you runt!"

Was that what this was all about!? "Dell, you overachieving son of a bitch!" You mentally cursed. It was tough to be an Engineer when held to the impossibly high standard set by your predecessor. You loved Dell; everybody loved Dell. But you couldn't help feeling irked whenever your work was compared to his, as no matter how hard you tried, he always found some way to upstage you. While you loved your job and working with the team, there was simply no competing with a guy like Dell. The man was a third-generation Engineer. All his life, engineering was all he knew. He was practically bred for this job. He gave everything he had to work, and it showed. Dell was nothing less than a master at his craft. You wanted to hate him for this, for showing you up, for acting so modestly and earnestly when others praised his work, even though you could tell from the look in his eye he loved every second of it. But you still couldn't hate Dell; nobody could. 

It hurt to wonder if you'd ever see Dell again. Your heart throbbed as you feared these two might just be deranged enough to go through with this, killing you in cold blood far into the wilderness where no one could hear you scream. There was no Medic here to tend to your injuries, you had no idea how far away the respawn machine was, and you had a bad feeling whatever happened to you out here wouldn't go away so quickly. And there was a good chance these two would be the last thing you'd see before you died.

The longer the two stared you down, the harder it became to keep your head clear. You were terrified to be held at their mercy with no idea what they wanted from you. You broke the silence, your voice unsteady and panicked, slightly rasping on account of how dry your throat became during the hunt. "What do you want me to tell you? I won't leave early anymore? I'll work faster? Whatever it is you want, I'll do it! C'mon, this has gone on long enough!"

Solly appeared chillingly indifferent to your pleas for mercy. "I'm not convinced." 

You grunted in desperation, turning your attention from Solly to his partner, "Demo, you show up to work shitfaced every day, and you're really going to call me a slacker!?"

His eyes were only somewhat unfocused, bearing the telltale sign of his usual intoxication, which narrowed slightly at your dig against him. "I don't need to be sober to make my bombs or to chuck 'em. And I'll shove one down your gullet right now if ya need me to prove it." You straightened and went rigid at the threat, even if he wouldn't deliver. It was disquieting to know how inclined to violence he was now. 

Solly crept forward just an inch as though spurred on by your reaction. "If you want us to get you out of the woods so soon, cadet, we could chop you up right here. Take your head home with us, and keep it on the wall. Let everyone on base know what happens to slackers."

"Look- I'm sorry for letting you down, really, I promise I am! But I'm not a slacker! I'll do better, I swear! Please, let's just go home- we're teammates, right? Let's get back to base, and we'll straighten all of this out." You desperately tried to think of any way to negotiate out of this without promising anything drastic. You wanted to argue with their emotional side, remind them you were friends, and convince them to end this terrible game. The sun set lower during your confrontation, and it was too dark to make out anyone's expression clearly, but you had little faith that either of them was convinced.

Demo snickered, lowering himself to sit back on his haunches, meeting you at eye level, "But we're not back at the base, now are we? Out here, ya ain't a comrade. You're less than an enemy, yer our prey. An' the prey don't' make orders."

Instinctively, you shifted away nervously, wanting to protect what little distance you had left between the two maniacs. Demo still had his hand wrapped around a throwing ax, and you couldn't take your eyes off it. The wicked polished metal of the ax's blade caught the flashlight's beam, reflecting menacingly.

"Aw, c'mon now, don't be so scared- we'll be gentle." Demo spoke with condescending sweetness, enjoying the visible fear on your face. You gasped in fear as you saw Demo's arm holding the ax move, as he made a show of striking the ground by his feet, wedging the weapon into the earth, remaining upright even as he pulled his hand away. You could hear them laughing, watching you flinch and yelp in fear at the fake-out. 

Demo teased, "Still spooked? Why? I thought ye said we were all friends here?" He raised both palms facing you to show you his empty hands, "I'm not gonna hurt ye. The ax is gone. Now come here." He used his pointed finger to gesture for you to come closer, though, at the moment, you were so paralyzed with fear you doubted you could comply even if you wanted to. 

The Demo wasn't pleased by your hesitance, "Don't make me come over there an' getcha myself."

It was beyond stupid to try and defy either of the men in your condition, but Demo didn't even give you time to react as he lurched forward with shocking agility, grabbing you by the collar. The action caught you by surprise, and your legs almost instantly gave out from under you, giving you just seconds to break the fall with your arms as you landed belly-down in the dirt. 

He asked, "Looks like ya got a lil blood on your shirt, lass- let me help you out of it." 

Your clothes were the last of your worries, and he knew it. You could only whine with grief as you heard Demo unearthing his ax to rip the shirt from collar to tail, then from the collar down the sleeves. Slicing your poor shirt to ribbons before pulling the useless fabric away, before doing the same to your bra. As he worked, he sat down on your ass, his weight pinning you in place. While you hated being forced into such a position, you dared not move or try to buck him off while he had an ax directly above your vulnerable body. The cold against your naked flesh made you prickle with discomfort as you listened to him fiddling with something behind you.

"Alright now, lassie, I want you to put your hands behind your back." Demo spoke with a deceptively calm voice, gentler than he'd spoken to you the entire time you'd been in the woods. You shivered in the cold but nevertheless did as you were told. Though just as your arms were in place behind your back, you felt cold metal wrap around them, and the sound of handcuffs locking them into place, you instinctively tried to lurch forward. 

Demo laughed out loud in amusement as he felt you wriggling beneath his weight, trying to worm your way out of this while your hands flapped pathetically against the cuffs. 

"Got Em locked in place for ya. 'Bout time for a real apology from this one, wouldn't ya say?"

"What the hell does he mean by a real apology?" You wondered- wasn't that what you were doing this whole time? Arching your back as high up off the ground as possible, you tried to look Solly in the eye, "But- I just, do I need to repeat it? I'm sorry I let you guys down; I swear it won't happen again! I swear on my life! I'll say it again and again if I have to." Your voice cracked, and you continued in a much quieter, frail tone, "Isn't that enough?"

Solly merely smiled down at you, shaking his head slowly before lowering himself before you, down on one knee, his boot directly in front of your face.

"I want to see you prove it. Do you want me to believe you'll start doing as you're told? Start now. I want you to kiss my boot."

You cringed hearing this, eyeing the grime caked on his shoes with contempt, though with a sickening certainty, he was dead serious. He nudged his shoe a little closer to your face, watching you wince at the sight of them. You were so tired, and begging was beyond pointless by now. The best you could muster was a half-hearted glance up at Solly, searching for a shred of humanity yet seeing nothing but grim excitement from the man.

You lowered your head closer to his boot, trying to steel your resolve and to try and get this over with as fast as possible, though as soon as you got close enough for the tip of your nose to graze the boot's leather, you involuntarily gagged at the muddy smell, knowing you were about to put your mouth directly there.

You could feel your face heating with humiliation as you heard the two men laughing at your misery. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to go again, holding your breath to avoid enduring the smell. Shutting your eyes, you gave a light kiss to the leather as quickly as you could before pulling away again. Miraculously, you'd escaped without any dirt on your mouth, though the after-feeling the boot's leather left on your lips was revolting enough. 

Taking your chin in his rough hand, he tilted your face up in his direction. Solly grumbled, "You can do better than that cadet- do it again."

Your jaw dropped; how could he still need more from you? "But you said-"

"And now I'm saying do it again!" He grasped your face a little tighter before letting go. It wasn't painful, but in such a vulnerable position, you couldn't help but yelp in pain as you anxiously looked down at the dirty boot.

You felt so broken down and humiliated you wanted to cry, but your will to escape this situation outweighed the fear. Drawing in another deep breath, you forced your head back down. Just as you were about to leave another quick kiss, you felt Solly's hand clamp down on the back of your neck, pushing your head forward and forcing you to keep your lips locked harder against his boot. You wretched at the feeling of muck on the corner of your lips through grit teeth. It hurt to keep holding your breath, but you endured anyway as Solly forced you to remain in the compromising position. 

When he eventually let your neck go, your head shot up at once as you spat. No dirt entered your mouth, and you could feel it on your lips as you tried to rub it off on your shoulder. From behind, you felt Demo's hand squeeze your shoulder, "Atta, girl! I knew ya had it in ya!"

You were about to try and wriggle your shoulder out of his hold, but to your surprise, Demo climbed off your back willingly as Solly rose from his kneel in front of you. You had no idea why he did it until you heard Solly sneaking up close behind you before speaking,

"Let me look at the wound." Obviously, he was talking to himself as if you could take off your bloodied, dirt-smeared work pants. Using the same ax Demo used to separate your shirt from your body, Solly tore the denim fabric directly over your rear, forcing the waist to widen enough for him to slip them off. He struggled, trying to pull them down over your heavy-duty work boots before he pulled those off as well. Your undergarments slipped off along with your trousers, leaving you without a single remaining shred of decency.

The frigid air ran over your wound with chilly needle-like pricks, and you could tell Solly had re-opened the wound, pulling your pants off causing fresh, hot blood to spill over the crusted dry wound. 

From his position on the sidelines, Demo whistled lowly, apparently impressed seeing the wound no longer obstructed by clothing. "Nice shootin! That's a deep one, alright!" 

Biting down on your cheek, you felt Solly's thick fingers awkwardly prodding at the sensitive, wounded flesh. You knew better than to hope Solly had any intention of patching you up; he only stripped you down like this to appraise his work. You weren't a wounded comrade to him; you were nothing more than his prey.

Solly crouched beside you, stroking his fingers against your hip, barely grazing the wound as he growled, "You're not sneaky. You Engineers, couped up in your little nests all day, bet you love it when you get in on the action. Bet you love getting roughed up like this."

Forcing yourself to face him, you shook your head; it was pointless to try and reason with him; whatever logic he was running on now, you couldn't hope to comprehend. 

He grinned, watching you continue struggling and cling to your last desperate hope of escaping. "Or do you just like the attention? You slack off to get us frustrated- it turns you on, doesn't it? I bet you've been waiting for this, waiting for someone to come and teach you a lesson."

Even with just your clothes torn off, before either of them really got their hands on you or even fully undressed, a pit of self-resentment settled in your stomach, and as you lay there with your hands cuffed behind your back and your belly in the dirt you couldn't help but blame yourself for all this. "If only you'd done your job like you were supposed to, you wouldn't be here! For God's sake, why couldn't you just do what you're told!" you mentally scolded, feeling the long-since burning shame intensifying slightly. To your disgust, you glanced at Solly as he picked up your inside-out, discarded pants, finding the area torn up by his bullet thickly saturated with blood. He held the scrap up to his nose, inhaling deeply, moaning as he exhaled and grunted with satisfaction. You recoiled, but he looked back at you, his face sickeningly amused, "You've been a fine little game to hunt- shame it all ends here."

You sobbed, "Please, you don't need to go through with this! You had your fun; I've learned my lesson; you don't need to take this any further!"

You could hear Demo chuckling behind you, "Aw, she must think the fun's already over. Poor lassie." 

There wasn't enough light to make anything out, and you were too broken to look either of them in the face any longer. The two men worked like one, positioning you exactly how they wanted to take you. You could feel Demo's hands on your hips, guiding you back and positioning you to straddle his lap. His hands tickled the sides of your body as his fingers ran up and down your skin in a mocking gesture of comfort. Demo's belly brushed against your back as he held you square and in place while Solly undressed. You felt Demo grinding his hard dick against your inner thigh, his strong hands keeping you locked in place despite your instinct to pull away from the unwanted advance. As unpleasant as the contact was, you were still shivering from the cold and secretly enjoyed the fleeting sensation of his body heat against your skin before he leaned back away from you. His gut, well padded by a layer of adipose over his stocky muscles and broad frame, felt warm against your shivering body. Demo was warm, but he sure wasn't comforting.

It didn't last long; as Solly drew nearer, Demo lay back, keeping you upright on his lap. You felt Solly's fist grab you by the hair, jerking you forward without warning; the sudden pain made you tense up, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

Solly growled, "Consider this overtime slacker. You'd better keep up."

You could feel Solly was already turned on from the thrill of tracking you down and forcing you to degrade yourself in front of himself and Demo. And sickeningly, you realized he probably got turned on watching his friend man-handling you, his little cadet, before forcing you to stay upright and obediently in place, waiting for him to get in on the action. 

Solly smirked, looking over your shoulder at Demo, "What do ya say, will you do the honors of going in first?" 

It was a sick joke, knowing they were just moments away from forcing you to endure both at once. Demo laughed lazily, "Cheers, lad."

It was agonizingly slow, feeling Demo force himself inside of you. Unfortunately, you realized he was naturally well endowed, and feeling his manhood pushing inside made you cry out in pain. He was already fully erect and even slightly lubed by a bit of spit he crudely coated his shaft with, though it hardly made any of this easier on your end. You weren't turned on and could focus on nothing but the awful burning stretch of Demo splitting you open. 

Solly had the grace to wait for his co-conspirator to fully situate himself inside before he joined in. You felt Demo's bruising hold on your thighs, forcefully rocking you forward as he started thrusting up. The entire time Demo worked on you from below, Solly had your hair in his fist, using it to jerk your head up to look at him, forcing you to give him your full attention again.

Solly growled, "Use your teeth, and you're dead; I mean it. Unless you want me to force it up your ass, you better behave, got it?" 

You forced yourself to nod, trying to push down the nauseating disgust. As Solly shuffled forward a little bit, you trembled with fear, and you were almost too scared to move when you felt his head prod against your mouth. 

This hesitance resulted in another harsh tug against your head. "Open up. Now." 

It was a simple command, but one you weren't sure you were strong enough to carry out. But with Solly's threat ringing in the back of your mind, you forced yourself to comply, trying not to jerk away or give him any further reason to punish you.

The Demo had slowed down a little, though he kept himself painfully deep inside as he wanted to get a good look as his friend continued to violate you. Clearly getting off on your suffering as he throbbed watching all this unfold. 

The feeling of both inside made you sick to your core, but you tried as hard as possible to close your eyes and think of anything but where you were now as the two began moving in earnest. You could hear Demo grunting with exertion and arousal as he picked up his pace, forcing you to ride his lap while he chased his climax. The pain of struggling to breathe with Solly's cock in your mouth made you gag, your tongue awkwardly writhing against him with uncoordinated movements. It would have been a blessing to feel his precum beginning to dribble down your throat if it wasn't so vile. 

Just as he was about to burst, you felt Solly retracting quickly, keeping your head in place with his fist in your hair and your face up, looking up at him. You coughed and wheezed as you forced full gulps of air into your lungs before you were caught by surprise when you felt him shooting his seed directly onto your face. The gunk landed in the center of your face, leaking down over your mouth and chin. The foul stuff falling in thick droplets down your chin and neck. Unfortunately, you accidentally inhaled a rogue splatter of semen in the process, the feeling of the warm, sticky residue making you wretch loudly despite the small amount. 

In the moment, you weren't even sure you felt human anymore. You were so beaten down by the past few hours psychologically and physically that you felt hollow and numb inside. Likely, it would be a while before the terror and disgust truly set in, but right now, you were nothing but a warm body, a scrap of meat. Chewed up and spat back out by a couple of predators.

At some point, Demo pulled out after keeping himself buried inside you long after he climaxed, enjoying the feeling of your warm body stretched around his sensitive cock. But you had no idea how long that was, and it wasn't until you felt Demo carefully shuck you off his lap to get back on his feet and redress that you realized he'd already come. 

You weren't even relieved when they eventually let go, feeling the cold ground below your bare skin as you waited motionless, watching the two pull their clothes back on with dull, vacant eyes. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't even feel yourself crying; you were too tired, practically dead to the world. As you pouted, you felt as impotent as a child, waiting for your guardian to take you back home and let you rest. But the men before you were no guardians, and you had no idea how long it would be until you returned to your own bed.

"You did better than I thought, cadet. I always knew you were holding out on us." Now fully dressed, Solly appeared to take a moment to appraise you honestly, scanning you up and down, mentally evaluating how serious your wounds would become in the morning."What'd you think, Demo? Has she earned a lift back home yet?" 

Your head throbbed, and your vision spun too much to focus clearly on Demo's face, though even you could see the cold-hearted smile as he held his chin in his fist, pretending to ponder the question to further draw out your suffering. By now, your mind had already begun to shut itself down in the name of self-preservation. 

You looked up, seeing two men you recognized but who you would never see as comrades, much less friends, again. You didn't feel like an Engineer anymore, or even human. You felt like nothing more than slaughtered prey in the den of a predator. Cruelly left alive to bleed out with no idea what would come next.

"Ah, I suppose she's earned it. We ought to let her off easy for such good behavior." 

His eyes shined with excitement as he regarded the pitiful state you'd been reduced to with pride as he continued, "But, the night is still so young. It'd be a shame to bring her home right away, wouldn't ya say?"

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 230

So, I have been reliably informed by @mike-ks-66502-blog that “The Miys” has broken containment: they found my story through FB!??? What the... for realsies? (Also, will respond to your ask soon, just kind of processing that information)

Thankfully it was a screenshot someone shared with Noah hilariously mis-translating Terran slang.

Highly distinguished new readers this week also include @111angel3, who not only took on the speedrun of the story, but commented on doggone near every single chapter; along with @krashingallalong, who last I checked was on chapter 216 and still going. Yes, Krash, I do read my comments ;) I’ll get that link fixed.

New readers this week are: @niavirrivain, @miniaturehumanman, @janelss, @earth-man-head, @barn-in-the-desert. Hey y’all!

Thanks, as always, go to @baelpenrose for beta reading and helping me get through the sticky spots.  Additional extra special thanks to whichever mad people are recommending my story out there. Y’all are awesome, I seriously hope you know that.

The mood on Level One was tense for what felt like a severely unsustainable length.  Everyone had fallen back on short answers to avoid interruption, and any mundane question only rated a curt nod at best. My shoulders hurt, I couldn’t sleep, and I was reasonably certain that Noah was sneaking a disgusting amount of stimulants into Tyche’s water, given how long she had been standing.  I even caught myself, while confirming Parvati’s dispatches and food requests, grousing mentally about the rules of movies and the need for something to break at some point.

Given the current environment, I was pretty sure it would be my teeth before anything else.

Thirty plus hours of clenching my teeth ended up being the only thing to prevent me from spitting out something when an irritatingly soothing chime came over the comms. “All Ark personnel, this is Odvub in secure communication. Please be aware that the Eko-mari fleet have found a decisive way to locate the pirate fleet.  Ix’al, Brol, and all ship captains have been advised and are preparing for evasive maneuvers. The Ark is expected to sustain cosmetic fire. Please respond as though it is damaging. Sensor logs will confirm.”

Those who had not been present in the Council chamber when Odvub had been revealed - thankfully limited to three adjuncts - fell to the deck in confusion.  Evan and Maverick immediately sprang from their seats and started shaking out their limbs, while Tyche tapped on Arthur’s shoulder without a word.

After an exchange of nodding and shaking heads, Arthur heaved a sigh and took her position. “Strategist Arthur Farro taking over for Navigator Tyche Reid.”

“I can’t be distracted,” she called out before chugging an odd looking sludge that Maverick handed her. “I navigate, Arthur updates.”

Anxiety clenched my stomach as I dashed over to her. “When is the last time you slept? Are you on top of your game?”

She nodded before swallowing the last of the… whatever. “I don’t know what Noah is putting in this, but Antoine mentioned something about a lactic acid counteragent, hyper oxygenated something, and some other things that sounded very anti-fatigue rather than pro-energy.”

“Is this safe?!” I demanded, as quietly as possible.

Noah sent a targeted response to us. “It is safe up to ninety-eight Terran hours, at which point Tyche will need half that duration in full sleep.”

“Translation - “ she started.

“If you need it beyond the safe point, we’re either dead or you’ve crashed,” I interrupted. “Don’t correct me, I don’t want to hear any other possibility. We have other people who can navigate.”

Tyche rocked her head side to side. “With any luck we won’t - “

The entire ship rocked to one side, throwing us both painfully against a table and cutting off whatever she was going to say. Maverick and Evan were the first to move, clawing against the near-vertical plane to get back to their stations.

Noah’s voice buzzed angrily over the comms. “Eko-mari fleet! We have stayed course as requested, despite debris! Advise!”

“Eko-mari Command to Hujylsogox vessel Yjq. Stay your course. Unexpected debris struck your vessel, and we are taking guard to avoid any future collisions.”

Odvub’s soft chime followed. “That was a warning shot from the pirate fleet. The Eko-mari sustain a falsehood.”

Even though I hadn’t thought it possible, the mood on Level One sombered even further. Maverick and Evan strapped into their seats before the Ark was even close to leveled out, while Arthur simply crawled beneath the closest table, bracing himself between the seats with his legs and back. Tyche yanked off her boots and managed to get to the piloting position just long enough to peel off her leggings and use them to tie herself physically to Mav and Evan’s seats.

Everyone else followed their lead, bracing or securing ourselves to the nearest object protruding from the deck.

After what felt like the longest ninety seconds of my life, Maverick shouted. “Conor! I need you in the engine room now! I trust Noah with my entire existence, but for what we are about to do I need an engineer and some instinct.”

“Derek and Sam are secure, along with Nixe and Coffey,” came the response. “Teeth is in a suspension life-pod.”

“Life pod!?” Charly shouted before Maverick signalled her as patch in, letting her repeat her request.

Noah and Grey responded at the same time, before Noah stopped and allowed Grey to restart. “Suspension life-pods are reserved for high-priority survivors. Assuming either the pirates or Miys survives the conflict, Teeth will be safe.  If neither survive, they will be suspended indefinitely, until a being salvages and opens the pod.”

Groggy as it was, Nixe’s voice followed with enough to command to make it clear who was speaking. “I have already asked Ix’al, one Queen to another, that if our heir falls into enemy hands, death would be preferred.”

“What!?” Charly demanded.

“If the pod is recovered within sixty Terran hours, it will not open for any hands but Terran, Glux, Shalt-kri’i, or So’k’nor. Not even for Hujylsogox - Our apologies, Noah.”

“No offense taken, Nixe.”

“After sixty hours,” Nixe continued, “only Terran hands can open the pod.”

A brief pause of horrified silence, and Odvub clarified what we all wanted to ask but could not bring ourselves to. “If the Ark is destroyed, the pod will be fired in the direction of the anticipated colony on Von. If there are no Terran survivors, only the pirate fleet or their allies can open the pod and account to Teeth what has happened.  Lacking that, the pod will either drift into a star or need to be taken to Earth to be opened.”

Xiomara started to object. “I - “

“Seal it,” Charly cut off wetly. “Seal the pod, along with any others. Nixe, if Coffey is not willing to go with Teeth, and if you aren’t, ask Jordan to. Everyone else is here.”

“Charly - “

“No, Xiomara.” Charly hiccuped, took a deep breath, and kept going. “I don’t care who on this vessel was a child soldier. Teeth is not. And we are better than that. Teeth, the genetic data, the Archive, all of it - I motion they follow the path Nixe outlined.”

With a tone of despair, Xiomara called the vote.

It was unanimous.

We didn’t even have time to grieve before Odvub chimed through. “Incoming shot from pirate vessel, targeting starboard.”

All we could do was brace before the impact rocked the ship sideways again. “Damage report!” Huynh demanded.

Arthur’s hands flew under the table across from mine. “Damage limited to Level Twelve, BioLab Two.”

“Sterile silicate and water,” Maverick shouted. “All available on Von, great shot. Conor! Where are you!”

Panting filled the comms. “I would be there faster if you could drive better, love.”

“You aren’t dead yet,” Mav bitched back. “Confirm when you reach the engines, I’ll patch Huynh and Charly through.”

“Don’t patch me through,” Huynh responded. “I’m not a rocket scientist.”

“Boss, we need to confirm the ship can take whatever he’s trying to do,” Conor panted. “At the door, entering now.”

In the corner of my eye, I saw Charly throw an invisible ball angrily at her mentor. “Ship schematics and stress points. Pull it up, watch for hot spots.”

Huynh glanced at Xiomara, who was ostensibly in charge since this was combat.

She surged forward from the waist, like she was trying to bite something. “You heard the woman! Pull it up, watch for hot spots.”

Huynh appeared mollified, spreading his hands to open the map.

“Xale!” Maverick shouted. “I need you to hit the fore of the Ark. Target to glance the bow, no confirmation needed. All hands, brace for impact!”

Yet again, someone seemed to ask Xiomara’s approval, even though I couldn’t see who. “Fucking hell, you heard the man, just do it! Stop asking for confirmation!”

The Ark surged in yet another direction, this time shoving my hip against the strut of a seat. Bruised is alive, I reminded myself as I tested my joints. Everything hurt, nothing broken.

As soon as that assessment registered, I was thrust to the opposite side, earning a matching bruise.

“Hujylsogox vessel Yjq!” screamed over the comms. “What are you doing!?”

“Weapons fire struck the fore of the Ark,” Noah responded. “Accelerating to leave plane of combat, per protocol.”

“Cease acceleration. No enemy fire has been detected!”

I didn’t even need Odvub to confirm that the Eko-mari were lying out of whatever they had that functioned as an ass.

“Regardless, protocol establishes to leave debris field or accelerate beyond plane of combat,” Noah insisted.

“You will cease acceleration at once!”

Noah didn’t respond, but Maverick did, without hesitation.

“Nope, not happening. Conor, tell me if she red lines.”

“Will do.”

“Noah! If I accelerate and dodge using only maneuvering thrusters, can you alert me to the last moment that the Ark can reach Von and decelerate using planetary gravity?”

“You will need to modify trajectory.”

“That’s a yes, I love it,” Maverick huffed. “All hands! This is your pilot speaking, brace for evasive maneuvers in any direction. That means ‘strap yourself down as best you can, or get the shit beat out of you’.  Shipwide gravity spin will be stood down over the next… thirty minutes. You will get dizzy, light headed, and congested. Anyone with heart conditions, please see your nearest med bay as carefully as possible to be put into suspension.”

Xiomara cut in on the end of Maverick’s communication. “And don’t even fucking bother asking me or Grey for confirmation. You heard him, do it, we’re busy. If we don’t think it’s enough, we’ll let you know.”

“Agreed,” Grey ground out, eyes screwed tight and limbs tense to brace for sudden motion. “And if you are prone to regurgitation under extreme motion, please put on a bivouac suit. It will capture and filter, the rest of us thank you.”

 <<Prev       Masterlist     Next>>

[callsign-bunnie]

Roach Character Card (Teeth and Skin)

Name: Gary Sanderson

Alias: Roach

Allies: Simon Riley

Age: 24

Preferred Weapon: Two katanas he got from a hobby store that ended up being pretty decent quality, and a silenced handgun that he uses in emergencies. He also keeps knives in his boots and has a necklace that can be used to strike fire

Skills: Evasion, silent takedowns, can travel without being seen, quick thinking

Physical build: Blonde hair, green eyes, 5’8”, slim and small build. His immunity bite covers his throat but all other physical marks are covered and unable to be seen. Wears sunglasses to hide his face, more.

Description: Roach’s mom died in childbirth and his dad abandoned him when he was five, stating it was because he looked too much like her. As such, he covered his face for most of his childhood. He grew up in an abusive orphanage and joined the military when he was 16 to get away from it.

He rose to SAS very quickly but on his first mission, they were basically left to be a “casualty” squad. As such, they were blown up. All of his squad members except him died and he only survived because he had left to get something in the distance. As such, he left the military and became a mercenary. He was in Mexico, trying to take down a cartel for a contract when hell broke loose.

He found Ghost only a few months after when they were both gathering supplies in the same area. They tried to fight each other and ended in a stand still. Afterwards, they became reluctant allies and started to trade supplies whenever they saw each other. 

Eventually, they ended up sleeping together, and became friends. They found an abandoned bunker and took over it as their base. When Ghost didn’t return after a few weeks from a supply run, Roach reluctantly set out to find him. He came back to their bunker having been overtaken by bleeders.

So, he set out to find Ghost again.

Ghost gave him his nickname. Before, he just didn’t have one, and didn’t give his name to anyone. But, Ghost noticed Roach seemed to be rather resilient and after he heard about the explosion he survived, the nickname stuck.

--

Hey, want to get added to a tag list for this ship or AU? Reply to this with "add me to the tag list for [ship/au]" and I will tag you in everything I post for whichever you choose. If you want to be added to a different tag list, send me an ask or dm. Tag list:

@i-miss-balthazar​ @transneurodivergentmess​ @hayleymaltman​ @chipsyjo141​

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Heather Mac Donald

Published: Dec 11, 2023

Liz Magill was forced to resign Saturday as president of the University of Pennsylvania—by all indications because, at a congressional hearing, she could not bring herself to declare that calls for the genocide of Jews are punishable speech. She would more justly have lost her job for being a bald-faced hypocrite when it comes to campus free expression. The future of higher education depends on which of these motives governs such decisions in the future.

Magill was part of a triumvirate of college presidents who testified before a House committee last week. Magill, Harvard president Claudine Gay, and MIT president Sally Kornbluth had been called to discuss the anti-Israel hatred embroiling their universities since the October 7 terror attacks on Israel. To call their performance robotic would insult robots. When asked a repeated question after their first evasion did not satisfy the questioner, these intellectual role models repeated their first evasion verbatim, maybe adding a cryptic non sequitur.

Congressman Jim Banks (R., Indiana) grilled Magill, for example, about a conference on Palestinian culture that the University of Pennsylvania had hosted two weeks before the Hamas terror attacks. Critics had demanded that Penn cancel the conference, due to the presence of alleged anti-Semites among its speakers. Penn allowed the gathering to continue, however, citing academic freedom.

Banks focused on invitee Roger Waters, founder of the rock group Pink Floyd and a vocal proponent of the Boycott, Divest, and Sanction (BDS) movement: “Why in the world would you host someone like that on your college campus to speak?” he asked.

Magill: “I appreciate the opportunity to discuss this. Antisemitism has no place at Penn.”

Banks: “Why did you invite Roger Waters? What did you think you would get out of him?”

Magill: “Antisemitism has no place at Penn, and our free speech policies are guided by the United States Constitution.”

It was on the question of condoning the “genocide of Jews” that the presidents were not only robotic but breathtakingly duplicitous.

Congressman Elise Stefanik (R., New York) parlayed this line of interrogation into national fame. Stefanik to Harvard president Claudine Gay: “Can you not say here that [calling for the genocide of Jews] is against the code of conduct at Harvard?”

Gay: “We embrace a commitment to free expression, even of views that are objectionable, offensive, hateful. It’s when that speech crosses into conduct that violates our policies against bullying, harassment.”

Stefanik: “Is that speech according to the code of conduct or not?”

Gay: “We embrace a commitment to free expression and give a wide berth to free expression, even of views that are objectionable.”

The other two presidents took the same substantive position: whether speech constitutes actionable conduct depends on the context, including whether it is targeted at specific individuals.

Stefanik to Magill: “I am asking, specifically calling for the genocide of Jews, does that constitute bullying or harassment,”

Magill: “If it is directed and severe or pervasive, it is harassment.”

Stefanik: “So, the answer is yes.”

Magill: “It is a context-dependent decision, Congresswoman.”

Stefanik’s questioning was relentless, but was it fair? As MIT president Kornbluth noted plaintively, she was unaware of anyone at MIT calling for the genocide of Jews. Stefanik was extrapolating from the ubiquitous student chants of “intifada” to explicit calls for Jewish genocide, but the former expression is more ambiguous, especially in the mouths of ignorant American students.

Nevertheless, Stefanik’s interrogations went viral. “American college presidents tongue tied regarding the genocide of Jews!” was the common takeaway, even among liberal defenders of academia, such as Harvard law professor Laurence Tribe.

And this failure to agree that alleged calls for the genocide of Jews should be banned appears to be what did in Magill. (Penn’s chairman of the board also resigned on Sunday, a shake-up as momentous for the future of university governance as Magill’s departure.) Sensing her imminent peril, Magill released a video a day after the hearing reversing her position on punishable speech. A “call for genocide of Jewish people [is] harassment or intimidation,” she stated—and thus, subject to prior restraint or retroactive sanction.

The problem, Magill explained, was the Constitution: “For decades, under multiple Penn presidents and consistent with most universities, Penn’s policies have been guided by the Constitution and the law. In today’s world, . . . these policies need to be clarified and evaluated.” Penn would be initiating a “serious and careful look” at those constitutionally inspired limits, in order to provide what Magill called a “safe, secure, and supportive environment [where] all members of our community can thrive.”

In other words, though Penn had heretofore chosen to abide by constitutional norms (though as a private institution, it was not mandated to do so), it would now put those norms aside to ensure that students feel “safe.”

The presidents’ refusal to declare hypothetical calls for the genocide of Jews punishable conduct has been portrayed as the greatest scandal of the hearing. It was not.

The real scandal was the presidents’ duplicity in citing a “commitment to free expression” as the reason why they needed to give “wide berth to . . . views that are objectionable,” as Gay put it.

GOP congressmen demolished the presidents’ protestations of free speech loyalty, providing example after example of faculty members and outside speakers who had been muzzled, punished, or banned because of views contrary to campus orthodoxy. Those views included the assertion that sex is biological and binary, that racial preferences harm their beneficiaries, that the diversity bureaucracy inhibits academic freedom, and that an open-borders immigration policy damages the country.

It was those fantastically counterfactual assertions of loyalty to academic freedom that should have doomed Magill and the other two presidents. On any common understanding of truthfulness, their claims to protect “objectionable” views were flagrantly contrary to the facts. Having been exposed as hypocrites, dissemblers, and enforcers of politically correct thinking, they should all be fired as unfit to lead institutions ostensibly dedicated to the pursuit of truth and the transmission of knowledge.

Ironically, however, it was their one correct stance during the entire hearing debacle that put them in peril. However woodenly they asserted their alleged reason for not shutting down the pro-Hamas demonstrations, that reason should have been controlling. Speech should be protected unless it crosses the line into direct threats to individuals or incitement to imminent violence. Student parroting of Islamist slogans does not meet those tests. Allowing a central authority to ban speech that it declares injurious to the common good is a license for precisely the abuse of power that has been the norm throughout human history, a norm that the Founders were so insistent on overturning. Moreover, it has been in the name of creating what Magill called a “safe, secure, and supportive” campus “climate” that universities have suppressed unwelcome facts and unpopular speakers.

Of course, even the presidents’ explanation for why they tolerate the pro-Hamas demonstrations is likely a lie. The real reason for their equivocation is fear of the campus Left—or, in the case of the diversity bureaucrats who often took the lead in responding to the terror attacks—agreement with the campus Left that anti-Israel terrorism is merely a matter of Palestinian self-defense.

Critics of the American university have seized on what they perceive as the most efficacious means for discrediting academia. But though accusations of tolerance for the genocide of Jews guarantees the most media coverage, conservatives are making a mistake in highlighting that alleged tolerance as the main reason to revamp the university. This mistake will come back to haunt them.

Absent a complete turnover of university personnel, a renewed authority to limit speech will be used overwhelmingly against conservatives. Even now, Penn is weighing sanctions against law professor Amy Wax for her challenges to campus orthodoxy. Had the public consensus been that the universities’ mistake was in not extending the same tolerance they showed to the pro-Hamas demonstrators to dissenters from leftist nostrums, Wax could have argued that she is entitled to the same protections for controversial speech. Now, with renewed support, even from the right, for student “safety,” Penn can argue that its newfound concern for Jewish student safety requires it to intensify its solicitude for the “marginalized” groups whom Wax allegedly jeopardized with her contrarian opinions.

A colleague of Wax’s has published an op-ed in the Washington Post unironically headlined: “To fight antisemitism on campuses, we must restrict speech.” “Isn’t it time for university presidents to rethink the role that open expression and academic freedom play in the educational mission of their institutions?” asks law professor Claire Finkelstein. However fanciful the question’s premise—that universities currently honor academic freedom—it is chilling that the answer is increasingly affirmative, even from many on the right.

[sweetarethediscords]

"Fool Me Once" - Part 1

Pairing: Kacchako, Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako

CW: Cheating, Underage Drinking

~~~~~~~

“What was that about?” Ochako chirped beside him, poking his shoulder.

Katsuki swatted her hand away. “What was what?”

“Don’t forget our study session later,” she mimicked Melissa’s voice, exaggerating the flirtiness. 

“What’d I tell ya about blaring that shitty pop music too loud?” Katsuki said, flicking the tip of her ear in retaliation. “We have a study session later.”

“Well unless you’re helping our TA study, I find that hard to believe,” she countered. “You’d rather give yourself a root canal than ask to be tutored. And the way she said it.” Ochako smiled impishly at him. “You’re swapping spit with Melissa, aren’t you?”

“Swapping spit? What are you? Five?” 

“You’re avoiding the question,” she teased. “Is the Great Bakugou Break Up Drought finally over? Are your golden fields finally wet with—”

Katsuki clamped his hand over her mouth, his ears burning. He glanced around the quad, checking to make sure none of the other students had heard her.

“I ain’t in a drought!” he hissed.

Ochako liked the palm of his hand. Katsuki yanked it away in disgust.

“You and Camie broke up end of last year,” she stated with an attitude. “We’re halfway through second semester and I know for a fact you haven’t held a hand let alone gotten laid in that entire time.” 

“One,” Katsuki stuck his finger in her face and pointed to his palm.“Don’t fucking lick this. It could give you heart problems.”

She blew a raspberry his way. 

“And two, for all you know I’ve been getting laid every night. I don’t tell you everything, Cheeks.” 

Her impish smile turned into a smug smirk as she pulled out her phone. It only took a few seconds of scrolling before she held up her phone, raising its volume loud enough that the entire campus could hear his sad, drunken ramblings. 

“Fuck Cheeks. I’m gonna end up like fucking Endeavor, ain’t I? Pimp out my quirk just to get fucking laid.” The undeniable squeak of his dorm mattress rang out as his past drunken self collapsed onto it. “Jerking it is so boring now! I—”

Katsuki lunged for her phone. 

Ochako pivoted out of the way, her evasion skills second nature at this point. She mercifully paused the voice message, but her smugness only grew.

“You were saying?”

Katsuki groaned. “Just be cool about it, alright?” A blush burned his ears as a cluster of girls giggled as they walked past him. “We ain’t that far into this thing.” 

“A thing?” She lit up. “It’s a thing?”

“Barely a thing,” he clarified. “A little flirting here and there, some mild dirty talk, but nothing confirmed or physical yet.”

Her smile fell. “Booooooo!”

“The hell are you booing me for?!” 

“How long have you been doing this ‘barely a thing’ thing?” she asked, flexing her fingers in air quotes.

“Two weeks now?” he replied, trying to seem nonchalant and unsure when he knew it had been precisely twelve days of them seriously flirting.

“Two weeks?!” Ochako balked. “You should have at least touched a boob by now! Deku and I have already—”

Katsuki covered his ears. “Ugh. Please spare me the details about you and the nerd’s sex life.” 

“Why?” she mocked. “You always do your best work when competing against him. Doesn’t the fact that your rival is getting his fields tended to make you want to try harder to bed our blonde brainiac?”

“Not when I know it’s you doing the watering!” he snapped.

Ochako threw her arms up. “You were very supportive of me and Iida’s escapades last semester!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Tch. That was different.”

“Why?” she huffed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest like a little brat..

Katsuki snickered, the best time to mess with her was when she was bratty.

He leaned down close enough that his breath just brushed across her ear and whispered, “Because the thought of being between the two of you was hot.” 

Ochako flushed so red the telltale pink spots of her cheeks vanished. She shoved him and Katsuki felt his weight vanish as her quirk activated accidentally.

“And the thought of Deku and I isn’t?!” she squawked behind her hands as she tried in vain to hide her flush.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned into the float. 

“Nope. Seen that nerd all snot-nosed and splotchy too many times to find him sexy.” He scowled. “It’s like picturing a sibling at this point.”

Ochako sputtered. “W-well— He is sexy.”

Katsuki nodded doubtfully. “Uh huh.” 

“You should see the shirtless selfies he sends me.”

“I see him shirtless enough in the locker room.” He turned over in the air, well used to the effects of her quirk after Aizawa assigned them as quirk development partners their second year. “Now as much as I love an impromptu training sesh can you put me the fuck down? I don’t think Cementoss is gonna be down for me floating above the entire class during our quiz.”

Ochako uncovered her face and watched him rise higher and higher with a pouty scowl, her blush still burning brilliant crimson. “Only if you promise me you’ll make out with Melissa today.” 

“Oi!” he barked, a blush quickly overtaking him at the thought. “I ain’t trying to rush this shit!”

“Yeah, but you're falling behind instead, slowpoke,” she huffed. “If you don’t seal the deal soon she’s gonna move on!”

Katsuki chewed the inside of his cheek, hating how her words echoed his more anxious thoughts. 

“How about this week?” he offered. “I can maybe make this week happen.”

Ochako rolled her eyes and giggled as she gradually released her quirk. “Fine. This week. Luckily you’ll have Halloween to help.”

“Halloween?” he scoffed, “What’s Halloween got to do with it?”

“The party on Friday? Kaminari and Hanta said that kids with the booze quirk just learned how to make tequila. People love kissing on tequila.”

Katsuki sneered as his feet touched the ground. 

“So she’s gotta be drunk in order for me to have a fucking shot at kissing her?”

“No. You gotta be drunk in order to get out of your head long enough to make a move.”

“Tch. Whatever.” Katsuki turned on his heels and stomped towards Cementoss’ classroom. 

Ochako ran to catch up with him and slipped her arms beneath his.

“Awwww don’t be like that. It’s sweet that you’re so nervous!”

Katsuki sneered, keeping his gaze focused on the encroaching classroom door.

“I ain’t nervous. I’m being respectful.” 

“I ain’t one of those hit it and quit it fuckbois.” He tried to shrug his arm out of her grip. But Ochako only squeezed his arm tighter, nuzzling her cheek up against it.

“I know. I know. That’s what makes you such a catch. Bad boy exterior with a gooey cinnamon roll center.” 

He groaned. “You’re two seconds away from getting a face full of nitroglycerin, Cheeks.”

She gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t do that, to your adorable wingman, would you?”

Katsuki looked down at her against his best interest, finding a pair of honey brown puppy dog eyes shimmering up at him. If he didn’t know her quirk was zero gravity, he would have sworn it was heartbeat manipulation.

How many times had those eyes had him looking up cardiologists? 

His sneer lessened into a pout. “Careful with that wingman shit. You’re gonna give Kirishima a complex.”

She giggled and shrugged. “Guess he’s gotta get good then. You helped him land Mina, how’s he helping you out with Melissa?” 

“By staying far as fuck away, thank god.” Katsuki rolled his eyes.

Ochako looked away from him, and lit up with a different glow of excitement. The smile that grew on her face as she let go of his arm could eclipse the sun in brightness.

“Deku!” 

Izuku pulled his attention away from whatever intense conversation he and Icy Hot were having and smiled back at her. Not nearly as bright, more caught off guard and stupidly nervous.

What the fuck did he have to be nervous about? He had Cheeks in the fucking bag. 

Anyone else but then ceased to exist as Ochako ran to his side. The two of them falling into that little bubble of nervous flirty chatter that made it intolerable for anyone to stand too close.

They headed into the room together, leaving Shoto and Katsuki to meet in the hall. 

“The fuck you making that face for?” Katsuki asked. Shoto wasn’t the most expressive bastard, but he knew him well enough by now to tell when something was up.

Especially when he was making that “something is wrong with my soba” face when there was no soba to be found. 

Shoto stared at him blankly for a moment, studying his face.

“I just remembered we have a quiz today,” he answered.

It was an obvious lie, but class was starting soon and Katsuki could give a shit less.

“Well don’t fucking look at my sheet,” he grumbled and stomped off. 

🔍🔍🔍🔍🔍

Were hands an erogenous zone?

They had to fucking be. The half chub in Katsuki’s pants threatening to go full mast every time Melissa grabbed his hands to take another measurement was proof.

They were so fucking sweaty too, but apparently that was a good thing. 

Melissa massaged his palm drawing out more beads of nitroglycerin. “May from Pokémon?” she laughed. “That tracks.”

“What do you mean?”

She ran her finger tip over the length of his palm, gathering a bit if his sweat before rubbing it between two fingers. 

“She’s cute and bubbly on the outside but tough and determined one the inside.” She pulled her fingers apart slightly and studied how the goo glistened in the light. “A girl like that is totally your type.”

“Huh,” he uttered, hoping to set himself up for a clever comeback. 

“Huh, what?”

“Cute and bubbly on the outside, tough and determined on the inside.” He gave her his most charming smirk. “I think I know a girl like that.”

Melissa blushed and started scribbling something down on her notepad, a small smile creeping up her face. 

God she was cute when she was bashful.

“So who was your big childhood crush?” he asked. “It wasn’t All Might, was it?”

She grimaced down at her notepad. “Ew. Gross. No. Uncle Might looks like a rabbit on steroids.”

“I don’t know, maybe you have a furry thing,” he goaded. 

That got her to look at him again.

“I do not!” she squealed.

“Then who was your childhood crush?” he pressed.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, frustratingly returning to her note taking. “Milo.”

“Milo?”

“From Atlantis: The Lost Empire. It’s a Disney movie.” 

“I know it,” he said. The nerdy linguist with an unfortunate middle part coming to mind immediately. “So you’re into scrawny guys, huh?”

She scoffed. “It’s not about his looks. It’s about his mind.”

“So you like them brainy, not brawny.” Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest making sure to flex his biceps a bit. “I don’t know if I can start skipping the gym. Takes a lot of upper body strength to fire off my explosions.”

Melissa leered over the top of her glasses at his arms. “No. Brawny’s good.”

“You sure?” He scratched his chin drawing her attention to his pecs straining against the buttons of his shirt.

“Y-yes but—” she swallowed. “If there’s no brains, what’s the point? I want a partner I can talk to, not just look at.”

“Good thing I’m top of my class then.” He stretched, giving her one last look. 

He pointed down to her notepad. “You try to see how the viscosity impacts the force of my detonations?”

Melissa blinked rapidly, clearing her mind of his muscles to focus back on her paper. “Yes, how did you—”

“Brains and brawn, Specs.” He winked, flushing her face yet again. 

“Ya know,” he drawled, looking over her, delighting in how flustered she was. “You’d make a good Kida.”

She giggled nervously, a little more snorty and sputtering than her usual laugh. “W-what?! No. I—”

“Wouldn’t look good in a white wig and a skimpy blue outfit?” 

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I’d have to disagree. Throw a little bit of that blue face she put on and—” he whistled lowly…

… inadvertently summoning a wild Pikachu.

“What’s going on over here, Kacchan?” Denki cooed, swinging an arm around his neck— 

“Don’t ya know ya gotta be quiet in the library? I’m trying to study over here!”

Katsuki knocked his arm off of him. “Buzz off, Dunceface.”

“You’re not giving him the answers to Power Loader’s homework are ya, Mel?” Denki asked. 

“No. Bakugou’s got to earn his grade just like the rest of you,” Melissa replied, quickly slipping into her TA role. “But he has kindly volunteered to help me with my apprenticeship project.”

“For extra credit?” Denki asked. “Why didn’t you ask, Mel?— 

—I’d let you experiment on me for free. No extra credit required.” He clicked his tongue and winked.

As murderous as Katsuki was growing, he was pleased to see Melissa barely bat an eye at Denki’s shit flirting.

“Well, I will be in a way,” she said. 

Denki leaned forward, stroking his chin like the perfect caricature of a fuckboi. “You will, huh?”

“Yes. Once my universal quirk enhancement tech has moved past the initial prototyping phase, I’ll be working with you all to rig your costumes for closed course testing.” 

“You sure you wanna do that?” he teased. “My quirk’s already… enhanced.”

Melissa barked a laugh. “Not really. You’re completely useless on the battlefield once you hit your max wattage. Which is bad during a fight and for your body.—” 

“—But if you had a piece of tech that could help reroute the excess charge from your attacks, it could keep you in fighting condition and improve the long term quality of your lifespan.”

Denki stared at her with the same dull-eyed gaze he wore during math class. 

Melissa sighed. “Next time you do a big zap, you can keep on zapping.”

The hamster in his head, finally got back on his wheel. “Oh!” Denki said. “Sick!”

“Yeah but she can’t help you keep zapping if you keep bothering her,” Katsuki grumbled. “So—“ 

Katsuki glared daggers at him, willing his quirk to shoot explosions out of his eyes rather than his hands for once.

Denki’s limited sense of self preservation finally kicked in as he blanched and backed away.

“So I’ll catch you at Lats and Lads tonight?” 

“Yup,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “See you at the gym.”

“Give me a call if you need a less grumpy lab-rat, Mel,” Denki said, shooting her finger guns. “You know I can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

“I’m aware,” she replied, waving him off. “That’s how you failed 3 exams.” 

Denki disappeared into the book stacks, taking the nice flirty atmosphere Katsuki worked so hard to build along with him as Melissa pulled out her graphing calculator and started drafting formulas.

“So, you about the viscosity and denotation correlation—” 

Katsuki sat back in his chair, settling in for what he knew was going to be another long discussion about physics and theory rather than flirting and fooling around in the chemistry section.

Maybe Ochako was right, maybe they both needed booze to finally make a move. 

Halloween couldn’t come fast enough.

Next Part ->

[jade-escobar]

When We Weren’t Looking | Para

Featuring: Jade Clark with mentions of @rodrigo-esc , Clover Wilson & Jeanette Shapiro Location: San Francisco, CA Time Frame: Sun. to Mon. April 23/24, 2023 Notes: Some Jadrigo cuteness! And Jeanette. 🙄

Jade had been her happiest she could recall feeling over the past month. Her professional and personal lives were both in marvelous places. Not only had Fresh Start Catering been thriving and nearing the debut of its food truck, but she had a solid, reliable and talented crew supporting her and the business. Adding to that, the pure bliss of her being in love for the first time and Jade was moving a bit lighter, smiling more genuinely and enjoying her days more.

When it came to her happiness and her being in love, it didn’t take long for her crew to pick up on it. She’d been a bit coy and evasive during the first week of their relationship. The next week, however, during Spring Break when Rodrigo spent the week at her apartment and the two of them had been texting each other often, her discretion had gone out of the window. Rodrigo’s visit toward the end of her work day on one of the days just added to it with Andrea giving a playfully sung, “Ooooooo” with the heart eyes the new couple was giving each other. Of course she was actually happy for the two of them.

With Hamilton now closed, Jade enjoyed the overnight stay at her boyfriend’s place. She hadn’t really been there before, but she knew from a previous photo in their texts that she loved Rodrigo’s bedroom. She’d talked to him some more about the many books he had shelved. At some point, she noticed a few cat accessories stored a little bit away with no cat, which led to a brief mention of Julia. Gleaning it was a bit of a sore subject, Jade moved away from it and asked him to show her the rest of his place within the home.

It’d been late by the time they were done walking around Rodrigo’s part of the home. They were both a bit wired from the show when they’d arrived, but both of them had to be up early and had to get ready for bed. Jade went through her nighttime routine and with her phone charging for the night on a portable power bank, she’d pulled up a playlist of some easygoing R&B and soul songs. Cuddled face-to-face in Rodrigo’s bed, she lightly traced her fingers along his hairline and the shell of his ear, all while sharing some tender pecks on the lips with him until sleep overtook affection.

-   -   -   -   -

By the next morning, Jade had quietly gotten up and ready for the day, trying not to wake Rodrigo. Her work days almost always started earlier than his. But she’d had herself fully dressed in her typical catering attire with her box braids pulled back in a low ponytail. Her make-up was done in natural tones across her face and a pale pink shade of gloss on her lips. Once she had her belongings collected in her bag, she bent over Rodrigo on his side of the bed and whispered, “I love you. I’ll call you later.” She kissed him on his temple and turned to go, only to gasp and feel herself being tugged backward by the hem of her jacket. Jade recovered from the surprise and let out a small squeal at Rodrigo’s arm snaking around her and pulling into the bed.

Jade laughed a bit when he lazily kissed at her cheek and neck. “I have to go to work!” she lightly whined, not even fighting him. In fact, she’d been grinning and let out a happy sigh at first, but eventually, after a few returned kisses that left some lip gloss-stained impressions on Rodrigo’s face, Jade had to insist that he let her get going. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” And with that, she’d left with  smile on her whole face.

Her work day ended up being busy, working with her crew on existing orders, taking in new ones, and scheduling interviews to hire two more employees for the addition of the food truck. She took a break to call Rodrigo during his prep period, keeping the call as brief as possible so not to disrupt his work day too much. At that time, she’d also made sure to drink plenty of water and consumed a granola bar and a small garden salad in the tiny office space where she handled the logistical side of the business. Towards the end of the day, Jade frosted and decorated a sheet cake for a company celebrating an employee’s retirement. She and Andrea were the last to leave for the day, locking up and bidding each other goodbye with promises to see the other the next day.

Upon arriving to her apartment complex, Jade brought her overnight bag and a brown paper bag with some extra pineapple coconut scones for Rodrigo and Clover. Before she reached the stairs leading to hers and Clover’s unit, however, she saw Rodrigo was there and her smile returned immediately. While she knew she would be seeing him after work, him being there ahead of her had been a pleasant surprise. And the fact that he’d been waiting outside of the complex told her that Clover wasn’t there to let him in. That, or he was simply waiting for her.

The butterflies started up inside of her again at the thought of the latter.

Jade walked right up to him, letting her tote bag drop to the ground as soon as they were in front of each other. As soon as Rodrigo bent to accommodate her petite height, she stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck--one hand still gripping the bag of scones. She kissed him full on the lips and then let him know that she had some leftovers for him and Clover. She’d started to reach for her tote that held her overnight items but Rodrigo picked it up before her and gave her an affectionate bop on her ass once she led the way up the stairs. Jade giggled a little and shook her head at him, all the while wondering how much she loved this man.

-   -   -   -    -

Throughout the entire exchange at the bottom landing of Jade and Clover’s apartment, it seemed that both Jade and Rodrigo were blissfully unaware that they were being watched. In fact, a few minutes prior to Jade’s arrival, Rodrigo was being watched but was of little concern until Jade showed up and walked right into his arms. It was at that point that several bells and alarms went off, photos were snapped from a distance, and a phone call was made.

“I didn’t really know what you were wanting me to watch for but did you know that she’s seeing someone now?”

On the other end of the line, there was a beat of silence, followed by the sharp, single response of Jeanette Shapiro reacting, “What!?”

“It’s unmistakable. She and this man had their arms around each other and were kissing each other. And then they went up to her apartment together.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t look like anyone whom you or I would know. Jade certainly seems comfortable with him.”

Another beat of silence. This one seemed to stretch on longer than the last before Jeanette asked, “What, exactly, does he look like?”

“I’d say somewhere between five-ten and six feet, Latino, short black hair, close-trimmed facial hair. Ears stick out a little but not much. Not like Will Smith. I have a picture but I don’t think it would be enough to identify him.”

Jeanette remained silent for a little while longer, but it seemed that she was waiting to receive the photo. Once she spoke up again, her voice seemed tighter, icier. “I know exactly who it is. Who he is.”

“You do? Okay...so... do I need to do some digging on him or something? Do you want me to continue watching Jade’s apartment?”

“No, don’t waste your time. Now that I know who she’s seeing, I can take care of things from here. She will not embarrass me.”