#i didn't expect this at all and wow.. just wow
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ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION
FEATURING: beast dazai osamu
SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}
AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it
GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings
SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST
READ: BADLANDS SIDE A
“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”
You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.
“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”
Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.
You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.
Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.
You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.
You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?
God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.
You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.
But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.
Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?
“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”
“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.
Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.
Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.
But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.
“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.
“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.
Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-
“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.
“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”
You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.
Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”
“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”
“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”
You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.
You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.
You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”
You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”
Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.
“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”
Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?
Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.
“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”
Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”
You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.
He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.
You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.
But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.
You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.
You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”
You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.
“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”
“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”
You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.
Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”
“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”
“What’s the issue then?”
“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”
“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”
Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”
“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”
Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”
A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”
Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”
Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.
The giddiness is long gone.
You still haven’t gotten dressed.
You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.
It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.
The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.
You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.
And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.
His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.
He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.
“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”
And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.
“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”
“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”
“I just don’t understand.”
Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?
If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.
God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.
Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.
A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.
“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”
Where do you fucking start?
You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.
“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”
You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.
“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.
He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.
Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.
“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”
Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.
“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”
He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.
“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”
You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.
You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.
“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”
His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.
“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”
“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.
“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”
You love him.
You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.
“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.
He smiles against your skin.
“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”
You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”
“Everyone is staring at us.”
You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.
“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.
His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.
At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.
Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.
Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.
Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.
Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.
Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.
More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.
But is this really any better?
He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.
He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”
The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.
“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”
“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.
Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.
“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.
“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”
Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”
You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.
Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.
Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”
“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”
Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.
The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.
There you are.
Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.
Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.
“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.
Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.
He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.
If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.
He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”
Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.
You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.
His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.
God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.
The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.
“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.
He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”
You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.
“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.
“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”
Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”
Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.
“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”
“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”
“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”
Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.
To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.
He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”
“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”
You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.
Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.
He feels sick.
What is he doing?
Why are you here?
What has he done?
“Dazai.”
You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.
“Dazai.”
What has he done?
Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-
His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-
“Osamu.”
His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.
“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”
Oh.
He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.
His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.
Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.
Hm.
Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.
Interesting.
He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.
Osamu,
“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.
You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”
“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”
“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.
Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.
“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.
“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.
He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.
God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.
“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”
His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.
“Dazai.”
Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”
“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”
Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.
“May I have this dance?”
Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.
Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.
He should just kill them all here and be done with it.
The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:
“Speak.”
Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.
You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.
Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.
You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.
Who are you, Dazai?
You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.
You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.
Could you sacrifice everything for him though?
Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.
A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.
I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.
“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.
It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.
“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.
“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”
Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”
He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.
“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”
He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”
You aren’t so sure.
Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.
Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.
He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.
“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”
Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.
Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.
You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.
“Is this seat taken?”
You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.
“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”
An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.
“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.
The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.
“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
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✯𝐍𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐞✯
IN WHICH... Florence makes Nick play a game for a prize and Nick fails.
WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! Mentions of needles, tattoo guns, boyxboy content, oral (Nick receives), exhibitionism, I think that’s it.
THIS IS FOR MY TWIN @thenickgirl
"You nervous?" Florence asks as he arranges his cart.
The two were at the tattoo shop owned by Florence's dad, both boys sitting in Florence's designated room.
"I'm not nervous."
Florence looks up from his cart and at Nick's bouncing knee. He stands up and walks over to Nick who is sitting down on the tattoo bed.
"You're lying."
"What? No I'm-" Nick is cut off by Florence putting his hand on his knee, keeping it in place. Nick looks up at Florence who is towering over him, "Ok I did lie, I am nervous." Nick sheepishly admits.
Florence chuckles and walks back over to his cart where all his tools lay, "why? You don't trust me?" He looks up at Nick and gives a faux pout.
"How mad would you be if I said you were right?" Florence scoffs at Nick's words and scoots over to him, pulling the cart with him.
"Wow, that's crazy. I'm giving my boyfriend a free tattoo and he doesn't even trust me."
"I trust you, just not with tattoos. I didn't even know you did tattoos until like two hours ago!"
"Ok well, I've done all of Y/n's so shut up and stop being nervous." Nick's eyes go wide when Florence pushes him down on the table. Nick swallows harshly as Florence lifts his shirt, starting to sanitize his hip.
Florence hums along to the song playing over the speakers as he lays the stencil on.
He peels the paper off and looks up at Nick, "that good for you?"
Nick sits up and looks in the mirror across from the table. "Yeah, it's good."
He lays back down and watches as Florence grabs the tattoo gun, "I swear to god if you fuck up-What? You'll do what?" Nick can't help but become flustered by the shit-eating grin on Florence's face.
"Shut up and tattoo me," Nick mumbles closing his eyes.
Florence says nothing as he turns the gun on, dipping it in the black ink. He allows his left hand to rest on the very top of Nick's thigh, close enough to his pelvis.
To Nick's surprise, Florence is very gentle with the gun, he can barely feel the needle piercing his skin. However, he does feel Florence's hand.
He's sure Florence isn't meaning to touch him sexually, but with his hand resting on his pelvis and the slight pain from the needle, he can't help the blood flowing to his dick.
He tries to distract himself, looking at the posters and trinkets in the room, praying Florence doesn't notice the tent in his shorts.
"You're getting hard while I give you a tattoo? I take it you like pain?"
So much for him not noticing.
He peeks at Florence and sees that the loc'd boy isn't even looking at him, concentrating on the Luna ghost on his hip. "I'm not ha-fuck!"
Nick doesn't know if he moaned in pain from the needle, or if he moaned from Florence palming him. "Really? You're not hard? Then what am I palming right now? You're wallet?"
When Nick doesn't answer, Florence looks up, a smug grin on his face. "What? Cat got your tongue?"
"You're so fucking ann-" another moan is followed by his words and this time, he knows for certain it's due to the hand on his dick.
"You love it though." Florence goes back to tattooing as if his hand isn't resting on his boyfriend's boner.
Nick is shocked by Florence's ability to act like nothing is going on.
Nick closes his eyes and grunts when the needle goes a bit deeper than expected. His hips jerk making Florence quickly pull the tattoo gun away.
"You need to stop moving!"
"Kind of hard not to when your hand is literally resting on my dick!" Nick seethes through gritted teeth, irritation and arousal in his voice. florence hums and goes back to tattooing, ignoring Nick's irritation like he always does.
He keeps his hands to himself, well, to the best of his ability considering he has to touch Nick.
It's silent for the most part, the only noises being the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the music over the speakers, and light moans and groans from Nick.
Casual peeks are given by Florence, watching the way his eyes move from behind his lids, watching his jaw clench as he swallows, and the way his mouth opens slightly to gasp when the needle stabs a little deeper.
All of it goes straight to Florence’s dick, his own tent forming in his sweatpants.
“If you don’t make any more noise and stop moving, I’ll blow you.” Nick's eyes fly open and he whips his head towards Florence. The boy's eyes are still cast downward, focusing on the tattoo as if he didn't say anything.
“W-what?”
“You heard me, if you’re a good boy and stay silent and stop moving, I’ll blow you. If you don’t listen, then it’s off the table-“ Florence looks through his lashes and licks his lips, a shit-eating grin on his face.
“So? What do you say?”
Nick's dick only gets harder, the tent rising even more. It was no secret between the two that Nick loved receiving head from the boy. The way his plump lips wrapped around the tip of his dick and his tongue swirled always sent him over the edge.
Florence clicks his tongue, "I'll take that as a yes?"
His mouth runs dry at the thought, only being able to give a short nod as a response
“Good boy, now lay back and relax.”
The session continues, and it seems like Florence is pressing harder than before in attempts to get Nick to crack. Nick does his best to stay quiet, biting his lip raw and taking deep and shakey breaths.
A soft whimper falls from Nick's mouth when Florences's hand grazes his bulge. Nick tenses hoping the boy didn't hear it
Eventually, Florence finishes the tattoo and wipes it down, smiling at his work. He put the saniderm on and takes off his gloves, throwing the latex away.
"All done! What do you think?" Florence scoots back in his chair as Nick stands up. He walks over to the mirror and smiles at the ink on his hip. "You like it?" Florence walks up behind him, tracing the ink over the saniderm. Nick smiles and nods, very satisfied with the ghost.
"Yeah, you did good-" he turns around and presses his body against Florence, "-and I was good too."
Florence smirks and pulls away from the shorter boy, "no you weren't." Nick watches in confusion as Florence begins to clean up the station. "uhh yes I was."
"No, you whimpered, you thought I didn't hear it but I did. Now come on, let's get your stuff and go." Nick blocks the door, stopping Florence from leaving.
"That's not fair! You touched me and you expect me not to moan?" Florence sits down on the surgical bed, arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Nick walks closer to him, his eyes pleading for the other boy to touch him.
Suddenly Nick is yanked forward and a hand is on his crotch. Florence palms him, watching as his eyes flutter shut. "This is what's going to happen, I'm going to blow you-" Nick's eyes snap open as a grin forms on his face. "-but the same rules apply. No noise." Nick huffs but agrees anyway.
He's desperate at this point, the tent in his shorts starting to hurt.
Florence pushes him back slightly and sinks to his knees, still palming him. He pulls down nicks shorts and boxers, wrapping his hand around nicks, aching cock.
Nick takes in a shaky breath and closes his eyes as Florence begins to jerk him off. “You want my mouth?” Nick opens his mouth to answer but quickly closes it remembering the rules. Florence snickers before taking Nick in his mouth.
Nick bites his lip and grips onto the surgical bed, his knuckles turning white. Florence hollows his cheeks as his head moves up and down, his tongue working diligently around Nick's shaft.
Nick's having a hard time staying quiet, biting both his lip and tongue, holding his breath, all he can do is let out soft pants and breathe heavily.
Florence wants him to crack, he always found it entertaining when Nick lost. He enjoyed watching the blonde get worked up and frustrated. He removes his hand and deepthroats Nick, starting to fondle his balls.
Nick's head lulls back as he bucks his hips, a moan almost escaping his mouth. Florence pulls back and circles his tongue around the tip, enjoying the bucking of Nick's hips. “Come on, you know you want to moan,” Nick looks down at Florence with a nasty look.
“You close?” He nods, his chest rapidly moving up and down. Florence’s hand finds its way back to Nick's shaft, rubbing his thumb all over the tip.
“Mmm, I guess I’ll let you cum since you finally followed the rules. You know, you’re really hardheaded.”
Before Nick could even fix his lips to say something snarky, Florence quickly takes Nick back in his mouth, bobbing his head at a fast pace to get Nick to his climax. Nick moans loudly at how fast Florence is moving, the lewd slurping noises mixed with Florence’s moans around him sending him right over the edge.
“Shit-“ Florence stops and looks up at Nick, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he watches Nick finally have his orgasm.
His head hangs low, his lips parted slightly as his eyes clench shut. His cheeks have a soft hue of pink as well, only getting brighter as he comes down.
Florence pulls off of Nick, swallowing the seed in his mouth and raising to his feet. “See? It wasn’t that hard to follow directions.” Nick ignores him and pulls his pants up, still trying to catch his breath.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You love it,” Florence plants a quick kiss to Nick's lips, the blonde breaking out into a soft smile. The two walk out of the back room with all of their things passing by a few faces.
“How does the new tattoo look kid?” Florence’s dad Gerald stops them at the desk. “It looks good, I love it.”
“I’m shocked you all didn’t stop halfway, I heard you moaning and groaning back there. Florence has a tendency to be a bit heavy-handed.”
Nick freezes in embarrassment. He doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Florence flicks his dad off, spewing something along the lines of “hush it, old man,” and grabbing Nick's arm to drag him out of the shop.
“Flo your dad heard me!”
“Why do you think I told you to shut up and not make noise? Now get in the car, I want to go home and take a nap.”
Nick Nation I hope I didn’t disappoint yall!!!!
TAGLIST 🍑
@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush
@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision
@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n @freshsturns
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#smut#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo smut#christopher sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#chris girl#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt girl#nick sturniolo smut#nick nation#nick sturniolo x male reader
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Falin barely has any screen time so far but holy shit. I can already sense the depth of her character (God bless Ryoko Kui you amazing writer).
Maybe im also projecting here, but she's always been the kind, gentle and soft type- but is she ever expected to be anything more?
Has anyone ever bothered to look at her BEYOND those traits? Or did they convince themselves that it didn't matter because oh Falin is so kind, she wouldn't mind! Just let her be, it'll be okay for her!
Is SHE content on being JUST those traits? She's kind at heart of course, and she just genuinely loves to help others. But why is she just cast to the side BECAUSE of these supposedly good traits?
And is that ALL that people like about her? It's normal to like good traits like those of course but if she was just selfish just for once- would people blame her? Immediately turn their backs against her because "wow i thought you were a good person"
On a positive note, that's why it's so heartwarming to see people close to her like Marcille and Laois to go through all these lengths to get her back, not for any hidden motives, but just because they love her and care for her and just WANT HER TO BE THERE WITH THEM.
I haven't read the manga yet so I might be reading her character wrong but 🥹 I see myself in her a lot (I bet Marcille does too EY BADUMTSS) so I might just be projecting
#i have many feelings about Them#ryoko kui loves her women indeed#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dunmeshi#falin touden#marcille donato#laois touden
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idk if u like writing him so if u don’t feel free to ignore!! but picture this, adam with a higher up reader with high authority that kinda acts like beelzebub?? like adam sees them for the first time and expects them to be all wholesome and kind but she’s actually just a hardcore party gal! which kinda matches his frat boy persona too🌚 and maybe she even resembles bee a bit? UP TO U! i just love ur writing and thought of this
-🎞️ anon
ALTITUDE!₊˚⊹♡
characters: adam x gn!reader
wc: 1.9k
warnings: cursing, mentions of one night stands
A/N: i'm sorry if i failed you in the whole party-fun!reader aspect i just went on a different direction and when i realised i like this a bit too much. hope you like it too anon!!!!! 🫶
You weren’t ever too sure about Adam. He just seemed a bit problematic, loud, interruptive, and he never took things seriously. Not that you were the chillest person on heaven, quite the opposite, but still, there was something about Adam that threw you off. You felt like that was all a faced. You knew that, when he wanted to, he could be kind, and was actually very enthusiastic regarding his job at heaven. Not that he would ever knowingly admit it. So when Sera partnered you two for a, quite important job, you didn’t know what to expect, or how to feel. At first you thought he might try to run the shop by not letting you contribute any of your ideas. He thought you were a tightass that would try to make everything boring (exactly what he said to Lute).
However, both of you were surprised once time went on, and you got to know each-other better. He realised you were actually quite fun, he might even say careless. He found himself in shock, and partially offended, when he realised you actually hosted parties every few weeks. You found out that he was deeply misunderstood. And actually really cute and charming. And you also promised to invite him to your next party, once you had finished the long task Sera had appointed you.
"Adam? Will you read that to me again?" You sat cross legged on the carpeted floor of Adam’s basement, chewing on the end of your click pen. Adam was too busy trying (and failing) to get basketballs on a net at the top of his wall to notice you’d called out to him. Dropping the pencil down on your notebook, you let out a frustrated sigh, standing to get his attention.
"Adam!"
Startled, he stopped short, turning towards you with his eyes wide in surprise.
"Yeah? You alright?" He asked, putting down the basketball and appearing in front of you.
"Yes Adam, I just wanted to get this part done," you explained, rolling your eyes in annoyance. “Besides, why do I have to work? I would also love to be able to play with that fucking basketball." It wasn't that Adam didn't work, he just got distracted easily.
"Ha! As if you could play." You felt deeply offended even though you knew you did NOT know how to play basketball.
"Wow. Just wow. I thought you would've known about my years in the angel's basketball team. I used to be one of the bests." You lied, trying to defend your dignity.
"As if! I was on the angel's basketball team. Never saw you there."
"It must've been waaaay before you got in. I've been here for longer, you know."
"Alright then, prove it."
"Prove what?"
"Prove you can play." He handed you the ball and you held it.
"I'm a bit rusty." You smiled at him as you saw him grin. He could see right through you and your lies, what he didn't figure out was that you could also see right through him. So instead of shooting towards the net, you hit Adam with the basketball right on top of his head. Watching it bounce on it only to later hit the floor.
"Ouch! What the fuck was that for?" he ran his hand through his hair.
"Get to work or I'll hit you again."
"Hey! That's toxic workplace behaviour, I'm gonna have to report you now."
You groaned in annoyance. "What will it take for you to work on this with me for an hour? Do we have to make a deal?" You joke with a light chuckle. Adam jumped at the opportunity to compromise, knowing that he could work if he really wanted to, and that the deal would then be in his favour.
"A deal hey?" He asks, resting his chin in his hands, looking up at you with sparkling eyes.
"Yes, whatever you want for 1 hour of your precious time," you scoff, picking up your pen again to work. As a higher ranking angel, you knew better than to be stubborn. You didn't mind having to sacrifice a little something. Besides, the end was in sight, meaning you wouldn’t have to deal with him for much longer - however, you struggled to admit to yourself that it would actually make you sad not hanging out with Adam as much as you were right now, worrying you would go back to the stranger treatment you had with each other before.
"I’m not gonna tell you until the hour is up," Adam teases, retrieving a book full of sinners' names for your work from the couch and opening it to a dog-eared page.
"Okay read it again for me, and this time slowly," you emphasise on the word “slowly”, watching him let out a small laugh, shifting on the floor to get comfortable.
"Okay, ready?"
"Yes, Adam."
"Okay," Adam takes a deep breath before beginning, you’re skimming over your notes, making sure all of them make sense. Adam tries to memorise some of the names before you write them, wanting rather to watch you work than have his eyes glued to the book.
Adam rests his hands in his lap, noticing the way your lips part and your tongue juts out only slightly when you concentrate. He notices you fiddling with the edge of your notebook, your fingertips grazing the spiral as it winds to bound the book. He notices how effortlessly pretty you are, and how committed you’ve been to this assignment. He thought it was so funny that you were so oblivious to his blatant staring. He suddenly lets out the breath he didn’t notice he was holding in.
"Adam?" You ask, the same annoyance bubbling inside you from when he didn’t pay attention before.
"Right," Adam shakes his head from his thoughts and returns to reciting the book.
You hadn’t noticed you’d leaned slightly into Adam, your shoulders brushing. Adam suddenly feels warm, his shoulder tingling where you were touching him. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as he licked his lips, readying himself to read the next part.
He thought of how cunning his side of the deal was, and how much more tempting it got the longer you touched him. It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.
Adam rested his hand on his thigh, inching his fingers closer to your joined knees.
You look up at him, finally noticing how close the two of you had gotten, but doing nothing about the close proximity. Something felt different, the air was harder to breathe, and your stomach felt like it was housed by a million butterflies. His eyes shun as they looked into yours, your faces inching closer and closer.
Adam finished reading and silence filled the room, accompanied by the small pants of your breathing, you pulled your body away, sitting up straighter and looking more alert.
"Good reading Adam," you let out a small cough to cover the awkwardness that had just washed over you. Fuck, you were so close to kissing him, and you didn’t know why. You scowled at yourself for being so cliche, and put down your notebook. Adam bit his lip in a smile as your cheeks blushed red because he knew you’d felt that too.
"Okay, deal time?"
You know you asked for an hour, but a break right now didn’t seem so bad.
"Okay," you say, as he scoots his bottom across the floor to face you.
"One kiss," he says finally, your jaw swinging open in shock. A kiss? Was he serious? Did you hear that right?
"A kiss?" You repeat, chuckling. At first you thought it was a prank - classic Adam. However, his face was dead serious, as serious as you had ever seen him. You hadn’t read that Adam felt anything for you, the same way you hid having a big fat crush on him by being sort of mean.
"Come on, you know you want to." He teases suddenly changing his behaviour and body language as he realised he had been perhaps a bit too vulnerable for his liking. But you has already seen him. You knew his true intentions when he asked that and you knew they matched what you wantes, so why weren't you kissing him?
Your lips form a tight straight line as you contemplate your choices. Give up the tough guy act now and cave to your feelings, or don’t. It was like Adam was giving you the perfect opportunity to do what you always thought of doing.
"Okay, only one," you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a curt nod.
“Of course, whatever the lady wants,” he sends a wink on your direction and you can't help blushing as you try to hide the redness with a laugh.
You lean forward, securing a small kiss on his cheek, almost too close to the corner of his mouth as it curled into a small smile. Your lips linger there for a moment, before you pull away, just slightly, your face still so close to Adam’s. You contemplate whether you should just go for it. But before you could decide what you wanted to do, Adam does it for you, connecting your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.
It takes you aback, but you compose yourself quickly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, as his secure to your hips. He pulls you closer, until you’re practically in his lap, straddling his hips with your thighs. His tongue prods at your lower lip, and without another thought, you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore where no one else has. The feeling was magical, and after all those nights you lay awake thinking of this moment, it finally came in full force.
You had to pull away with a gasp when Adam’s hand started to cup your bare ass under your shorts, your hands resting comfortably on his shoulders as you stared at each other.
"Fuck I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-"
"No! It’s fine, I just, I... I kinda like you? Adam... And I mean, I don't care if you want to just fuck or whatever. But... I guess I just don't want that." you let out a nervous laugh, wanting so badly to crawl into a hole and die from your confession. "It's not you! Well, I guess it is you? I don't mind one-night stands, I just..." Adam interrupts you by letting a small laugh, the back of his hand coming up to caress your cheek.
"I get why you assumed that. I mean, I am THE Adam, THE original dick, why would I settle down?" You roll your eyes at his cockiness and his expression softens. "But I do like you. I like you just in the way that you said it, truly."
"Really?" You ask him, your voice only just louder than a whisper.
"Yeah! I mean- you’re so smart and pretty, and we’ve spent a lot of time together, I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, wouldn't mind getting to know you better. The whole of you" he moves his hand towards your waist.
“I’ve felt the same way,” you reply, pulling Adam in for a hug, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He holds you close, before you sit back down on the floor across from him.
“So… you think I’m pretty?” He asks, shooting you a cheeky wink. You roll your eyes again, letting out a small laugh.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#adam x you#cursed cat alastor#adam hazbin hotel#adam hazbin hotel headcanons#hazbin adam
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Sanji Married Head Cannons (P2 of Sick before Marriage)
A/N: Woah! I honestly didn't expect THAT many likes. I'm glad ya'll loved my first fic like my friend did. So here's a sweet treat for you guys. Some head cannons on what Sanji is like after the marriage
Notes: Sanji x Fem Reader, Fluff, SFW, slightly suggestive?
Many might think that Sanji will still flirt like crazy after marriage, but actually he doesn't
Only flirts with you and polite to other ladies. (Unless it's Nami and Robin, he will forever simp for them)
A literal househusband
Will brag to Zoro that he got married before him, sparking another fight
Within a few months of marriage, Sanji starts dropping hints about starting a family
"Oh wow! They sell mini suits! Imagine our kid wearing this!"
"Honey, you're dinner will be waiting in the bedroom..."
"Robin would make a great aunt some day...."
You start noticing his hints quickly because he isn't exactly subtle about it
Long story short, ya'll tried for a baby so many times Nami, Ussop and Zoro lost count
When you guys eventually have the baby, Robin did became a great aunt
Sanji gets a heart attack every time Zoro or Luffy breathes the same air as his baby
If it's a daughter, you name it Sora after his mother
Will obviously do all the cooking
Just to make it clear, he WILL tone down the simping to other women
Sometimes will forget you guys are married because it's a dream come true
Calls you: Ma chérie, mon amour, ma femme
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's a wrap!! Hope you enjoy this! Please, request anything you like to me and I'll write it!
Request please, I beg you, I don't have any more ideas
#one piece x reader#sanji x y/n#sanji x reader#sanji x you#one piece sanji x reader#fluff#sfw#one piece fluff#im not great with tags#Sanji getting married to you#marriage#one piece sanji x reader marriage#one piece#oneshot#irisstar answers#one piece headcannons#one piece Sanji headcannons
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what looks do you think the westerosi are showing off at the Tourney of Harrenhal?
biggest gathering of the year, first inter-kingdom gathering after winter, first King Aerys public appearance in forever, some peeps expecting a secret meeting with rhaegar about taking over for his father — it was THE party!
oh bitch the girls were turning ouuuuuut!
The Starklings were dressed in very Riverlander-like clothing (early to classic Medieval-ish) for the trip, which were very well made, befitting their status as children of the Warden of The North, but probably way simpler compared to most of the southerners. Probably a muted grey-black-deep blue pallet too, so that Rickard could cement their Serious Stark Vibes at the function. Brandon probably thought it made them look cool. Lyanna had the traditional wide flowing gowns and loose veils that I guess make blonde predators go oh wow I need to kidnap her for a prophecy
Tywin couldn't have his children looking like bums ofc. Cersei was still in the throes of her teenage Higharden fashions era, with a very high waist, pushed up bosom, and puff sleeves. Jamie's doublets all fitted perfectly and was made sure to have his fur-trimmed overgrown fall at just the right angle. And he probably had the best armor at the tourney, gilded with lions and vines. Because even though Tywin would rather kill Jamie than see him in the kingsgaurd, his son couldn't be caught not looking fresh. The tailors at Casterly were worked so hard they probably had the first ever medieval thoughts of unionizing.
Rhaegars bitch ass. Probably tended to wear longer coats/gowns/talbards, except for when he was sparring or jousting of course. They were obviously very well made, but were almost underwhelming for the heir to the kingdom, as he tended towards the simplistic side. Also I think they sometimes bordered on feminine bc he was a fairly androgynous figure To Me.
I think the Daynes were wearing their usual (Turkish) fashions, liking to stand out a bit from the crowd, but didn't stand out so much as the Martells. Ashara was the belle of the ball with her insanely detailed over gowns and fur linings in almost foreign styles. Yes it made Arthur extremely jealous when he saw Brandon and Barrister tripping over themselves around her (yes I'm going with the Dayne incest headcanon sorry). Also, the men in the family wore the traditional tightly wrapped styles as well, except for Arthur who probably slept in his kingsgaurd armor.
#god bless making this post made my computer run so agonizingly slow#so i hope u like it babies#also this is like...two months late im sorry I just couldn't decide on how to best interpret this ask#asoiaf hair and clothing
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ok ur one of my favorite moots that post Anakin/hayden fics so i have a request 😛
i don’t remember if you write for irl hayden but if you don’t do dilf anakin (it isn’t smut)
basically dads best friend!Hayden/Anakin x bold (kind of grunge/slutty) reader
Hayden goes with reader to get a pricing.
(if you want it to be less fluffy with kinda smutty undertones you can do nip pricing’s but you could also do stomach 🤭)
basically readers dad allows it but dosen’t fully approve so he dosen’t go with her and reader needs comfort as she loves the look of piercings, but is TERRIFIED of needles.
Hayden/Anakin holds her hand and stuff and she makes funny comments like “i just want to look hot for the summer man why does this have to hurt so bad?!” or “do you think ill look sexy with these mr. Christensen/Skywalker?” 
they like gaze into each others eyes and lowk have a cute moment as he comforts her (but if they are nip piercings it would be loving for another reason too iykwim!!!)
and if you do anakin because it would be modern maybe sam monroe (obviously not the character just the look/personality) could be him at lauren’s age so he would relate to her more and be more attracted to her. maybe even on the way to the piercer have Anakin show her his old school photos and all of his piercings and reader tell him she’d do him as a teen (she has no shame and we love that!)
sorry if this request makes you uncomfortable. I just had a daydream about this as i’m getting my stomach pierced soon and thought you were the best person to ask because I love your writing 🙏😛
“one of my fav moots” you will be receiving a big smooch 😆💋
Anakin held your hand while waiting for the piercing lady to enter the small room. “God, I wish there was a way to get his damn piercing without the needle.” A complaint fell from your lips as Anakin read something on his phone with his free hand.
“Aren't magnetic balls a thing? Or some people glue them, I hear.” He replied, still scrolling through whatever he was reading. “Duh, those are a thing, but they're so ugly and fake looking.” Anakin chuckled a little, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles.
“Guess you'll just have to deal with the needle then, sweetie.” He shrugged, finally looking at you. His gaze was soft and caring, but yet so sexy and attractive. “Do you think I'll look good with a belly piercing, Mr. Skywalker?” you bat your eyelashes at him.
“Yeah, I think so. Though, I'd think maybe an eyebrow or lip piercing would look better.” He says, looking all around your pretty face and eyes that were covered in dark makeup. “I remember when I was a teenager, I had a couple of piercings myself.”
“You're such a liar.” You rolled your eyes at him. “No, seriously. I have a couple of photos and the holes to prove it.” He pointed to the small, closed hole under his bottom lip, and then the one on his eyebrow.
“Holy shit, Ani! No way you were cool.” You laughed, still keeping your eyes on the hole in his lip. He quickly pulled up the photos for more proof, too. He showed you one with a cigarette in his hand with his eyeliner, piercings (not just on his face, but ears), and dyed hair.
“Wow, Ani. If you still looked like that, I'd definitely do you.” This made Anakin blush a little and furrow his eyebrows. “Yeah, okay, kiddo.” He says and uncomfortably shifts in his chair to hide his hardening dick.
Soon enough, the lady came in and did what was expected. Ani held your hand extra tight to comfort you. “God job, sweetie. Didn't cry like I expected you to.” He says after the lady left the room.
“Does it look good?” You look at your belly. “Looks super good, honey.” He kissed your cheek before heading to the car.
That night, he touched himself to the thought of you having your nipples pierced. How pretty they'd look bouncing up and down while you ride him. Maybe he'll day something about one of his ex girlfriends having nipple piercings and how he loved them so much.
He knew you liked him. He knew you'd do anything to make him happy even if you didn't notice how good he was at convincing you to do things.
—
WAS THIS GOOD? I FEEL LIKE IT SUCKED OMG 😭 LMK IF U WANT ANYTHING TO BE CHANGED!!
#hayden christensen#anakin imagine#anakin skywalker smut#rots anakin#star wars anakin#anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin
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Just a ring.
Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”
Pairing - Theodore Nott x reader; Male OC x reader.
Word count - 2150.
Warnings - infidelity, flashbacks in italics, grown up theo & reader.
Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business wizard like Theodore Nott who hailed from a high class pure blood family, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.
He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.
“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.
“I'm sorry Mr. Nott, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”
Theodore eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Theodore kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay Riya. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.
Theodore turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy to hear your rambling right now.”
[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Theodore.”
“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.
“He knows…”
“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”
“Alex… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”
Theodore kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He has asked me to marry him.”
Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.
“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.
He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.
After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.
It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Alex had been having a lot of arguments around that time.
“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.
“I know babe but this is urgent.” Alex said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.
“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”
“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”
“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Alex took his briefcase and apparated.
There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherin guys from a year above her. She had never interacted with him outside of the classes. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.
Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Alex thus she became addicted.
Over time, their pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Alex maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Theodore.
After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Theodore had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Alex, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.
They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I love you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders, apparating away.
She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.
Truth to be told, when Alex had found Theodore's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Alex opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.
“I… I need time, Alex.”
Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.
A week later -
[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.
“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.
She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Theodore was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Theodore…”
He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the plain gold band that sat there.
“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.
“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.
The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.
“Where is your engagement ring?”
“I… I must have forgotten it.”
“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Alex questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.
“How are you doing, Codnor?” Another voice interrupted the couple. Alex cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.
“How did you even enter, Nott? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave before I kick you out.”
Theodore smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Alex had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.
“I know I wasn't invited, Codnor, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”
Before she could think, Alex punched Theodore, hard… and a fight started between the two. Alex's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Theodore back that he stopped. Even though Alex was almost as tall as Theodore, he was no match for his muscles and strength.
“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Alex pleaded.
“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Theodore was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Alex. I don't deserve you.”
Alex scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and disgust he was feeling at her.
[Y/N] turned to Theodore. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Theodore pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.
“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.
She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.
THE END.
Note - i have written a Tommy Shelby version of this one, you can find it here if you are interested. I thought this one screams “Theo” so why not make a Theo version too.
#theo nott x reader#theo nott x you#theodore nott x reader#harry potter#slytherin boys#one shot#theo nott fanfiction#theo nott one shot#𝐣 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬
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ok ive taken a deep breath and steeled myself. what do you think of liu yu
I'm going to put this under a cut because I rambled a little, but I wanted to offer my detailed impression :P Rest assured! No tearing to shreds occurred. He remains intact.
Well, I didn’t know who this guy was, so I took myself to the ole Wikipedia and my first thought was wow! Look at those label names.
Second thoughts: Ooh, dancer. I'm looking forward to see how the dancing is (if he still dances).
I have heard of INTO1 but don't watch idol competition shows, but it's impressive that he placed first. I decided to listen to/watch two songs/performances: his first single, 靠岸, from 2019, and his most recent single from 2023, Focus.
靠岸 didn't seemed to have an official video, so I ended up watching a live performance from a show called Mr. Radio.
youtube
I was pleasantly surprised by this song! Seeing that he had been on Produce Camp, I was expecting a more pop kind of song, but this was a song I could imagine playing in the OT of a drama (in a good way!). I think his performance was a little shaky here, but I sense that maybe he was nervous? Either way, he seems a little shy here, where this song would really benefit from a powerhouse performance. Idk, maybe it was also a sound mixing issue. I like the song, though. Very pretty. I went to listen to the studio recording and it was a lot better—much closer to what I was hoping to get. The oooooh part sort of reminds me of a Zhou Shen song whose title I can't remember at the moment. It was space themed, though. (EDIT: the song I was thinking about was Cassini)
Next up!! Focus. I watched the Official Music Video on Youtube first.
youtube
Coming off 靠岸， I could see from the thumbnail that this song would be closer to the pop sound that I expected, so the things I was interested in seeing was the MV concept and the dancing. On first watch, I didn't really listen to the lyrics much, because there were no captions to read and I can't really tell what people are saying in pop songs anyway.
I have to admit that going into the video with the big gray space only, I thought it was pretty ugly at first. I just think that the CG structure on pale BG concept always looks cheap no matter who does it, though, and Liu Yu seems like a sort of tiny guy, so with all the dancers around him, I initially thought he looked a little swamped by them.
At 0:48 when we got a flash of the all-black cowboy look, again I was a bit disappointed, thinking that there wouldn't be much edge to concepts.
Then we got to the, I'm gonna say, test lab sewer gothic, and I thought "ok, at least that's something". It's definitely be done before but there's more production in that set and look, so at least the whole video isn't just going to be a gray void. The flash of Liu Yu standing in as his own princess was kind of interesting (disappointed this character never showed up in the music video again)
Now I know said I wasn't going to rip him to shreds and that's because....!!! When the beat dropped, I went "ok wait" lol. At 1:03, I witnessed evidence of stage presence and was like "oh we are so back, baby"
Still not a fan of the big pale space, and I think Liu Yu's charisma was most visible in the sewer gothic scenes and weakest in the scenes where he's wearing the silver ice skating outfit looking blouse, but maybe that's just because it distracts you with his little twig body. I personally can't buy into the energy of someone who looks like the most movable object on earth.
3:03 the "yuh" made me laugh tho
MV looks ranked (best to worst):
One thing that I didn't like about the MV (but understand is necessary) was that the video kept cutting right as I thought to myself "Oh, this is a nice bit of dancing", and I wish the shots had been wider on the dance moves instead of cutting him off at the ribs. A wider dance version in the sewer (I know that's not what it was but jhkalfjl) would've been appreciated by me. With that in mind, I decided to see if there was a dance performance video and there was! As suspected, the choreography in the beginning of the song is also just not that strong or compelling to me. It sort of gives intermediate hiphop 2 dance recital. My favorite part of choreo is the breakdown at 2:56.
Anyway, I hope these impressions were sufficient! I didn't check him out on any variety shows so I can't comment much on what I think about his personality, but from a music/performance standpoint, I think he's pretty good. Not really the kind of stuff I listen to anymore but if I still kept up with idols, maybe I'd check him out from time to time :)
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On Challengers...
Okay.
So, here's the thing. It's decent.
It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.
....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow?
And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant.
Remember, the movie Closer?
-I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.
Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen....
.....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean.
This felt like it held back at moments...
When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other.
It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!)
I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis.
THAT did deliver.
WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping.
A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN.
It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.
Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star.
But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...'
He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that.
He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...
Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell.
You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze.
And resented regardless.
*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress.
Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department.
Mike Faist is a STAR.
He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls.
I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.
Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else.
Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man.
Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething.
Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh*
...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé.
Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.
....Anyway.
It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.
P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster.
P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...
Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?)
Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.
youtube
youtube
This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not.
Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit!
Note they never even touch each other.
#challengers#it is riveting#also that soundtrack!!!#already bookmarked on the spotify#atticus and trent do it again#so happy to see the goth industrial prince trent evolving to this movie score icon place now.#the challengers#josh o'connor#mike faist#zendaya#Youtube
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It gets talked about a lot but I still can't stop nerding out about Link's characterization in TotK. It's done through his many creative dialogue choices and his expressions of course, but it's also done so subtly through what he *doesn't* say. Notably, he doesn't talk about himself. And this is why nobody recognizes him unless they've already met him. Because he doesn't tell them when they've got the wrong impression of him.
The meme about Link having Tony Hawk syndrome is so real. People will look at him and straight up say, "Wow, you look exactly like Link!" without a hint of irony. Lookout Landing has a detailed picture of his face in their watchtower and the search party still doesn't recognize him. Penn works with Link for a long time and thinks he's unlucky that the Yiga keep "mistaking" him for the Hero (granted, Traysi asked him to deliberately keep quiet, but Penn still didn't put two and two together himself). I think the reason for this, aside from it being really, really funny, is that Link just doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't feel the need to.
Characterization isn't just about what we see a character doing, it's also about how other characters respond to them. Link is so unassuming and humble that he doesn't match people's expectations of what "Link" should be like. The three Gerudo ladies hanging out around Outskirt Stable are one of many perfect examples. Link stands in front of them carrying the Master Sword, but they expect the Hero to be taller than they are, with a giant glowing sword, so they don’t believe it's him. Obviously that's not the reality, but they don't know that. Link doesn't correct them, either. Again, he doesn't feel the need to.
This is also why many NPCs from BotW don't recognize or remember Link. To them, he was just a passerby that did them a good turn once 6+ years ago. Nobody's going to remember a person like that for so long after. They had no way of knowing he was the Hero, unless it came up for story quest reasons. When they hear stories about the Princess's Appointed Knight who woke up from his 100 year nap, defeated the Calamity, and rescued Zelda, they imagine someone larger than life. Then when they see what Link actually is like, they can't put two and two together.
This is true even during the Hyrule Restoration efforts. Link always follows behind Zelda as her shadow, which she notes in her diary, but the people in the stable investigation quests and in Hateno don't recognize him either, even though he went everywhere she did. Link is just that unassuming. He resigns himself to being a shadow, allowing Zelda to take the lead and do as she pleases but always staying nearby to support and protect her. He doesn't need to be recognizable to do his job. And we know from both BotW and now TotK that he's wholly devoted to her. He's content with this. Many people more eloquent than I have spent many paragraphs elaborating on this. I just wanted to focus on what it says about his character.
Link is humble and unassuming, so much so that nobody believes that he's the Hero unless they already know him. He's devoted to Zelda, so much so that he's willing to do anything to chase even a glimpse of her. He doesn't talk about himself or correct people who have the wrong impression of him. He doesn't need to do that to chase his Zelda. He is a person of great humility in spite of his station. I think that's so interesting and neat how the comedy of him being unrecognizable also tells us all this about him. It's also cool how this is only one aspect of him; all the dialogue choices and expressions he makes during cutscenes and actions out in the world show a whole other, lighter side to him that meshes with this. It's all so good. I am in love with it. It always kills me inside when people dismiss his characterization as being nonexistant or flat just because it's not spoonfed to them or when they say Link being unrecognizable is lazy writing instead of a deliberate choice. I am biting and gnawing and gnashing over him and his relationship to Zelda. I love them so much.
#legend of zelda#tears of the kingdom#zelda theory#link#this was swirling in my brain cuz i just started replaying totk i had to jot it down#this game is peak fiction. my favorite of all time.
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I hate Andrew and would love the rage room 😂🤬
Rage Room
pairing: jennifer jareau x daughter reader
category: fluff
warnings: none
word count: 646
age: 16
summary: your mom brings you to a rage room
I saw my mom through the window of the rage room and smiled. She had her phone out, recording me. I had taped a picture of Andrew's face to the glass table I was about to absolutely demolish. I put on my goggles and watched her count down until I started smashing the sledgehammer against the glass table, smiling as I saw the glass fly everywhere, imagining it was Andrew.
It didn't time long for me to destroy everything in the room, and once I did I walked outside and high fived my mom, taking off my glasses. "With the amount of enjoyment I felt doing that I wouldn't be surprised if I were to turn out to be a serial killer."
"I don't want to have to send you to jail so I'm going to pretend like I never heard that." I laughed and looked through the window again, seeing the flash shards everywhere and the shredded picture of Andrew.
"I want him to see it."
"If he does he's going to file for a restraining order." She pointed out.
"Well...maybe I can hit him with a sledgehammer instead."
"Well...then you'd be in prison for murder."
"But since I'm not 18 yet it would be expunged from my records once I turned 18."
"Not if you intentionally murder someone." She put her arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple as we walked out of the building.
"But what if it was accidental?"
"I don't think the judge would buy that."
"Mom! You're supposed to be on my side here!" I protested, getting into the car with a disappointed look on my face. "I wish I didn't date a stupid piece of shit for a year." I slumped down in my seat.
"Me too. But you're not dating him anymore. So it's ok."
"I know but I wasted a year on him. Imagine if I had been with the right person. I would be so much happier."
"Yeah." My mom sighed and patted my knee. "Well...it might take you a while to find your person."
"Wow. That makes me feel so much better." I said sarcastically.
"I'm 43 and I still haven't found my person. But I'm so happy with you! You're all I need." She grabbed my hand.
"But what if I don't have kids? What if I'm just alone?"
"You're 16. You have so much time to find the right person for you." She started the car and backed out of the parking lot. "You're not expected to find the love of your life in high school." I sighed, leaning my head against the window. "It's gonna be ok, you know? Now that you dated someone like Andrew you know the red flags for people like him." She pointed out.
"Yeah. I guess."
"It's gonna be alright honey." We finally arrived home and I was so glad to just be home and spend time with my mom. She put her hand on my upper back and led me upstairs to my room. We both laid down on my bed and she grabbed my laptop from my nightstand, handing it to me so I could type in my password. I pulled up Gilmore Girls and leaned into my mom, hugging her arm tightly.
"Thanks for taking me to the rage room. I really needed that. I've felt so angry for so long and it felt amazing to finally be able to get it all out."
"Of course honey." She kissed the top of my head. "It always feels nice to relieve your anger. Especially when it's about a shitty boyfriend."
"You had a shitty boyfriend?"
"Mhm. Many. A lot of lessons learned." I sighed and leaned into her more. "But it's gonna be ok, yeah?"
"Yeah...I guess."
"It will be. No I guess."
"Ok...it'll be ok."
"I love you sweetie."
"I love you too mom."
#x reader#criminal minds#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau x you#x daughter reader#x daughter!reader
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Masterlist!
I'm Whispereons and I mainly write yandere Genshin Impact fics. The SAGAU is my long time obsession if it wasn't obvious.
For ease of convenience I will have this masterlist pinned with my works, taglist, and tags used on my blog.
Currently I don't have any rules to abide by. I enjoyed all the comments, reblogs, asks and submissions I received thus far!
Just a warning for anyone new, I advise you to make sure your blog has some form of personalization. Like a profile pic, a sentence saying hello in your bio or even just a single post saying you're human will do. It's to prevent you from getting the report and block combo when I do my spam/porn bot purges.
SAGAU works
Oracle!Reader - with my current editor @serpent-benediction (hopefully) fixing up the older chapters.
Followers Special: 1K
Inazuma:
City - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Sea - Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
Liyue:
City - Part 9, Part 10,
Wilderness - Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18
City V2 - Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24
(Don't judge my old works too harshly, I really was new at writing!)
Self-aware Genshin Impact Series (incomplete): Warmth, Screen, Team Player, Over This Shit
Oneshots - Another Drink, It's tough to be a God
Normal Yandere Genshin Impact:
Venti/Barbatoes x EOS!Reader: Planned, Protection or Possession?, Control
Tags to use to navigate my posts!
#whisp's amateur work - all of my writing
#sagau oracle au - everything related to my oracle!reader (was implemented late so the first tag is more reliable)
#a whispered response - me answering asks/submissions
#whisp's collection - my personal collection of my fav authors, artists, and anything else. My mindless reblogs aren't tagged with anything to avoid cluttering the tag system.
#peering into the whisp - if I get personal asks, this is the tag I would use
If you regularly sends asks with some way to identify you then I usually give you a tag too.
My taglist for my Oracle!Reader:
If you are in italics, that means I couldn't tag you! That could be due to you being shadow banned or having your settings set to hide you from being searched. I will keep this master list updated with each new user, I truly don't mind tagging you all. It's honestly a nice feeling.
@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername
@zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @starsofabundance, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe, @ghosthii, @beloveddroplet, @uchihaeirin, @ibelieveinsleep, @idk098, @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback, @toramune, @haaaaaades, @horologiumwise, @melovaaaa, @alittletiredcry, @aphxdea, @atsukawolfcat, @desirabletravel, @pinkpainc, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @yuyuzi-ling, @hyperfixationwhore
@juuuuuj101010, @avalordream, @kurayamioterasu, @tottybear, @koiikuno, @lynx-of-skies, @quacking-simp, @synthe4u, @kascar-chronicle, @hug4helios, @hug4helios, @silverstarred, @koiikuno, @ithoughtthinks, @remiivx, @lemonade7255, @melpomenelurks, @average-yandere-enjoyer, @mnhao, @fuji-sen, @altumsomnum
#whisp's amateur work#a whispered response#sagau cult au#whisp's collection#peering into the whisp#official masterlist#For those wondering#The cat covering my blog is my dear Obsidian <3#if he dies#I may actually drop Tumblr#but that's not going to happen as he's young and a housecat#he's living all 18 years estimated#and WOW I didn't expect to have so many liyue chapters#There's just so many people in Liyue that it makes it long#How do ya'll read my stuff??? lol
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i don't think i'll be able to recover from anya, after being cool and calm and collected all this time, starting to BAWL the second her mama is there 😭😭😭
#i#i don't have the words#like ii didn't expect this to happen at all i would have been fine with her just talking about how cool she is to yor#but this is actually literally perfect?#wow#no words#leg is live blogging#leg is reading spy x family#spy x family#spy x family chapter 75#sxf#sxf manga#sxf manga spoilers#anya forger
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AFTERMARE WEEK: Day 7- the end of a beginning/ the beginning of the end
make me believe and raise my hopes up one last time, then haunt my dreams for the rest of my life
aftermare week is hosted by @bluepallilworld
#art#illustration#my art#aftermare week 2023#aftermare week#nightmare#nightmare sans#fem!nightmare#this was actually the first piece i finished!! before the week even started cause i thought i was a literal month late ahhh hhh xD#geno isn't a ghost here night is just reminiscing about old memories :)#i have lots and lots of headcanons surrounding human!nightmare's corruption process but just so you know her appearance changes slightly#istg when i posted the grass wip i did NOT expect it to get 30+ notes like wow! i'm so glad you guys thought it looked good hhh :'D#hope it's not? underwhelming? i didn't expect to participate in all the prompts but this is the first!! week challenge i completed perfectl#last cryptic quote for the week wooo!! try to see how it's related to the prompts cause i'm curious to hear your interpretations >:D#i have a dentist appointment on the 17th so this is queued! i'll reblog everyone's art once i come back so don't worry >:'D#btw thank you so much for hosting this event blue!! the prompts were literally ALLL a 10 outta 10 just howww >:"0#i hope you're having an amazing day miss >:3 <3333
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200 Followers Celebratory CC Free Sim Dump!!
It's honestly so amazing to me that somehow I made it to 200 followers! You're all so sweet and I appreciate everyone that's taken the time to interact with my posts and I promise I have new stuff in the works that'll be released soon 😉
So, I did this poll to see what everyone would want and it was so fun to hear from so many people thank you everyone who voted! Sim dump was the clear winner!!
Anyway, included are eight cc free young adult sims! They all have set skills and careers because I think it's fun but you can do whatever you want with them as long as you don't change skintones (bonus information about each below the cut as a "guide" because I like coming up with their characters)! I also had too much fun picking out likes and dislikes so... There are a lot 😬
P.S. If in the library it shows up as having cc I swear there isn't any I don't know why my game likes to mark it as having cc even when there isn't I'm sorry for any confusion.
Feel free to tag me if you ever use them and I hope you enjoy!! 😁😁
Download Link [Google Drive]
[Sim info below cut!!]
Parker Daley - Friend of the World, Erratic, Creative, Vegetarian -
Bubbly and eccentric Parker is the life of any party! A fashion designer who loves anything "stylish" (which is just anything she likes, pretty much). Parker is completely unpredictable which makes her an interesting companion. A city girl all the way.
Lilah Dumas - Computer Whiz, Cheerful, Geek, Lazy
Lilah is a very "you only live once" kind of person. She doesn't spend too much time dwelling on just about anything, and will drop whatever doesn't bring her joy in a heartbeat. As such she was determined to make one of her hobbies into a career, and amassed a decent following for herself as a streamer.
Raj Pandey - Fabulously Wealthy, Perfectionist, Mean, Self-Assured
Raj grew up always knowing he'd join the family business, and the atmosphere of wealth and status, as well as the most expensive education obtainable, has turned him into a stuck up character. He appreciates a well crafted insult. In fact, he's not averse to the occasional argument debate (as long as he wins). Despite these traits he's managed to get himself adopted into a group of friends who, though often annoy him, have become an important part of his life.
Sonny Oswald - Friend of the Animals, Socially Awkward, Animal Enthusiast, Neat
Sonny is a sweetheart and I love him. Awkward and shy, he's more comfortable around farm animals and plants than he is around people. Only is closest friends get to see how kind and fun he can be. One day he'll move out to the countryside and start is own farm, but for now he's working his way through the gardening career (baby steps, right?).
Lucas Esparza - Nerd Brain, Noncommittal, Bookworm, Adventurous
Lucas's two goals in life are to gain infinite amounts of knowledge for himself and leave a trail of broken hearts as he travels the world to get said knowledge. That makes it sound like he's a horrible person which is because... Well he is, but who doesn't need a villain in their game? I'm sure he has his good qualities, however, I honestly love him for being the absolute handful he is.
Keira McDaniel - Painter Extraordinaire, Gloomy, Maker, Music Lover
A bit of a "tortured artist" character who enjoys spending hours painting/crafting in her studio with music playing constantly, blocking out the rest of the world. Keira is very sensitive, and feels the emotional weight of everything around her very intensely, channeling it into her art.
Joslyn Lancaster - Country Caretaker, Loves the Outdoors, Athletic, Glutton
Joslyn is a very meat and potatoes kind of gal. She lives for the simple things in life, working the ranch, riding horses, and a good meal. It's never occurred to her that there might be more to life, and the world, outside of the ranch, because what more could she need?
Gabrielle "Gabby" Moran - Leader of the Pack, Insider, Snob, Cat Lover
Gabby is a fine and polished young woman, growing up in a life of luxury, and the champion English rider in town. She's very aware that she is the best at something, and it's boosted her confidence (*cough* ego) to astronomic levels. Quite the gossip, she loves to be out with friends, gossiping about the latest scandal, but when not there she's tending to her horse and preparing for her next competition. Despite the facade of the popular mean girl she puts up, Gabby cares very deeply about horses and her career, and takes it very seriously. She also loves spending time with the barn cats when they're around.
#sorry this took so long it feels like forever!!#I worked on these sims for so long#that now I'm attached to them!!#okay rambling incoming#the first four I imagine as being a group of friends#because I made them first I don't know#your mind wanders in CAS it can't be helped!#anyway they all had way better compatibility then I expected I definitely didn't think they'd get along with Raj so I was so glad#that they did!#Lucas and Keira I think are just off on their own#and if you saw my post on Joslyn and Gabby you know the concept for them already 😆#I didn't know what to do for my last two sims#but then the trailer for the new ep dropped and I was like#“Ah yes... That's what I'll do”#so they're based off of the English and Western riding styles#and give the vibes of a hallmark movie love that for them#wow that was really long i'm so sorry#thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy the sims!!#😁😁#sims#sims 4#sims 4 screenshots#sim dump#sim download#sims 4 download#sims 4 dump#ts4#ts4 download#ts4 screenshots#follower gift
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