#I don’t understand why they couldn’t just make it a one time charge like other apple games

[babybvg]

heartbroken just found out the new hello kitty island adventure game that’s coming out requires a $5 monthly subscription

[incognit0slut]

Prove me wrong

When you tease Spencer about his inability to be dominant in bed, he decides to prove you wrong by taking matters into his own hands.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) afab reader, established relationship, dom spence but he’s still gentle, spanking, fingering, edging/orgasm control ~3.6k words A/n: Every time I write him as a dom I always make sure to write a backstory, like I can’t imagine him being hard on you out of nowhere. Do you get what I’m saying? Anyway this is the spanking fic I was talking about the other day. lmk what you think!!

The giggle left your lips before you could stop yourself. You really shouldn’t be laughing, especially when you were straddling his lap in the midst of a hot, passionate make-out session. But you couldn’t help it, it was as if you had no control over your amusement. Spencer, however, did not find the humor in the words that had slipped out of your mouth.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?”

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. What had started as a casual conversation—with stolen kisses here and there—quickly escalated into a playful banter about who was more in charge in the relationship. You had been teasing him, confidently asserting that you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship because you couldn’t imagine him being in control.

The conversation naturally shifted to a more personal challenge, touching on the topic of dominance, a subject neither of you had seriously discussed before. You had laughed then, not out of mockery, but because the idea seemed so out of character for him.

“I just think you’re more comfortable with control in other areas,” you said, trying to stifle your giggle. “But in bed? I can’t picture it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And what areas do you think I’m more comfortable with?”

“Well, teaching for one,” you replied, leaning closer. “I’ve sat in one of your seminars. You’re always so confident standing in front of a classroom.”

“So you think I’m good at teaching?” he replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But not at… other things?”

“Exactly,” you said, nodding. “I mean, you dominate the classroom with your knowledge. But that’s different from... you know, being dominant in bed.”

“Mhm.” His hands trailed up your legs before they settled on your waist. “Maybe those skills are more transferable than you think.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You can’t possibly compare giving a lecture in front of your students to... this.”

“Why not? Both require confidence, understanding your audience, and knowing how to lead.”

“Nice try, but I’m still not convinced,” you teased. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips barely brushing his, but he backed away, leaving you hanging. His eyes were serious, not amused by your skepticism. You laughed. It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with your perception of him.

“Baby, it’s okay. I don’t mind if this isn’t your strong suit.”

“Well I do.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Since when do you care about my opinion?”

“Since you’re my girlfriend,” he replied. “And I can’t let you think less of me.”

“I never think any less of you.”

“But you’re doubting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Oh, come on, stop making that face.”

Spencer's response was swift. His hands moved to gently cup your face, drawing your attention fully to him. “Tell me why you think I can’t be dominant in bed.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, you have this… air about you. It's hard to imagine you letting go.”

"Maybe I don't need to let go. Maybe I just need to take control in a different way," he said, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two."

"You? Teach me?" You raised an eyebrow, mock disbelief coloring your tone. "This I have to see."

“I think you should be careful what you wish for,” He said under his breath, his lips now just a whisper away from yours.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” you shot back, smiling against his lips. “I just don’t think you have it in you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you.

His lips moved against yours softly yet deeply, carrying the usual sweetness you'd grown accustomed to, but there was a subtle edge this time. It wasn’t too harsh, but just enough to catch you off guard and make you part your lips. He took the invitation, his tongue tracing a deliberate path inside your mouth as his hand trailed up to hold the back of your neck.

Hot. You felt hot everywhere. Certain spots on your body felt as if they were on fire, the burn traveling through your veins before pooling between your thighs. You couldn’t believe a simple kiss could make you feel this way. The heat was intense, making you ache with a need that you instinctively started to move your hips, seeking more. But then he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not allowed to move.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

"Because..." His fingers traced a path to the hem of his shirt that you wore, the one you claimed as your own. He slowly began to lift it, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “You need to earn it.”

You understood immediately what he was attempting. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you desperate. You realized it was some kind of power play, and this was his way to dominate you, to keep you on the edge. Each careful, controlled movement was a clear message to you. He was in charge, and you were left craving whatever he chose to give.

"Yeah?" You whispered, noticing the way your voice trembled with anticipation. "And how do I do that?"

He lifted the shirt higher, his hands sliding up your sides, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. “By letting me lead,” he said. “Maybe I'll give you what you want then.”

The fabric slipped over your head, and you sat there, perched on his lap, momentarily vulnerable under his intense gaze. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as you felt his hands rest lightly on your bare shoulders, his fingers tracing small circles before they trailed lower, stopping just above your breasts.

“Will you do that? Will you do what I say?”

You swallowed hard. This was new. You never thought you’d see him asking your permission to be in control, yet here he was, doing the exact thing you were skeptical about. And to your surprise, you liked this side of him.

“Will you?” He urged.

You felt your breathing grow heavy as his hands moved lower. “…yes.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples. “I can’t hear you.”

You felt the sensation hit right through you, and it took a lot of self-control for you not to arch into his touch, to keep your voice steady as you repeated louder, “Yes.”

A satisfied smile played at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to press an open kiss on your neck. “I think I can get used to this.”

You tilted your head, exposing your neck to him. He wasted no time, licking and sucking on your pulse point, making sure to leave his mark. His hands continued their exploration, squeezing your breasts gently, feeling their full weight in his palms. When he tugged on your nipples, pulling them harder than he ever had before, a moan escaped your lips, surprising even yourself.

His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. "Sounds like someone's enjoying this more than they expected.”

Breathlessly, you replied, "You're... doing okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" His breath was hot on your already heated skin. "I'll have to try harder then."

His fingers traced a teasing path down to the hem of your panties, playing with the soft fabric, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Lift your hips.”

You complied, lifting your hips slightly, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the fabric and slowly began to pull it down. You shifted on his lap, letting him slip off your panties completely. He discarded it onto the floor, his hands returning to your thighs, gently massaging the plumpness of it as he fixed his gaze on you.

There was something about you that captivated him at that moment. The way you trembled, the way your breathing quickened, the way your pupils dilated. Spencer had always loved the pure desire reflected in your eyes whenever he touched you, but this was different. It was raw, unfiltered desperation, and he wanted to savor it, to draw it out and see just how far it could go.

“See? Already doing better than just okay.”

Your breath hitched as his palm ran up your inner thigh. “You’re not done proving yourself yet.”

“You know,” he started, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t really challenge me like this.”

“I’m not challenging you… you’re the one who started this.”

His fingers stopped just at the edge of the heat between your legs, teasingly close yet maddeningly far, but close enough to feel the dampness on your skin.

“No, you started this.” He moved his hand further, brushing against your outer lips. “You told me I wasn’t capable of being dominant.”

Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping your lips. “I—I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think I could take control?” His fingers grazed your slick pussy, slowly brushing your arousal between your folds. “Or didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting despite your attempts to keep your composure. 

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch. “Are you still not convinced?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers found your clit. You gasped, trying to form coherent thoughts. “I… I’m starting to see your point.”

“I need more than that,” he uttered, and to your disappointment, he pulled away. “Lay down on my lap.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He smiled. “You heard me. Lay down on my lap.”

Hesitantly, you shifted, positioning yourself across his lap, your heart pounding in your chest. “Spencer, I don’t—” you started, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Shh,” he cut you off, his hand softly patting your back. “Relax.”

He watched as you started to relax, the supple curve of your back arching slightly, highlighting the roundness of your ass as you settled into position. His hand rested lightly on your lower back while his other found your face, turning it towards him. His eyes met yours as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"Look at me," he whispered. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes steady on his soft brown orbs even though your heart was racing while his other hand trailed down the curve of your hips. Then, without warning, his hand lifted from your skin only to come down gently in a firm, open-handed spank on your ass that resounded through the quiet room.

"Spencer!" you exclaimed, a flush spreading across your cheeks.

His hand rubbed the area soothingly. “Have I convinced you enough?”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch both soothing and stimulating. “Maybe,” you replied breathlessly, your cheeks still flushed.

“Maybe?” He laughed. “Why do I feel like you’re doing this on purpose?”

You looked away, flustered, not wanting to admit the truth. “I’m not… I mean…” you stammered, your face heating up even more.

Seeing your reaction, he moved his hand between your thighs again, his fingers brushing against your slickness. “Interesting,” he hummed. “It seems you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch. “Spencer…”

“But you don’t deserve this yet,” he said, pulling his hand back teasingly. “Not until you’ve fully earned it.”

His hand suddenly came down on your ass again, the sharp sound echoing through the room. The burning sting made you gasp. 

“Count,” he instructed.

You could feel your eyes well up with unshed tears, the intensity of the slap overwhelming. You should feel ashamed and embarrassed by the situation, everything about this should send you into sheer mortification. Yet, there was also an undeniable pleasure threading through the pain, so intense that you could feel yourself getting aroused.

Another spank followed, slightly harder this time. “I told you to count.” “Two,” you gasped.

His hand came down again, firmer than before. “Start from the beginning.”

You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, trying to steady your voice. “One...”

“That’s better,” he murmured, his hand connecting with your skin, the sensation sharper than before.

“Two...”

His eyes stayed locked on you, gauging every reaction as he slapped you again.

“Three,” you cried out.

You continued to count, the numbers blending with your gasps and moans. By the time you reached seven, you were panting, the tears finally spilling over your face. His touch softened, his fingers gently caressing your reddened skin as he pressed his lips on your cheek, trying to kiss your tears away.

“Oh, baby, you know I hate to see you cry,” his voice was sweet, almost cooing, but the underlying taunt was unmistakable as his hand came down again sharply on your ass. You cried out, but he continued to trail soft kisses along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “But I need you to count again.”

“Eight,” you whined as you tried to catch your breath. Before you could fully process the last slap, you felt another sharp smack on your ass, making you cry out again. 

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered, the mix of sensations overwhelming you. His kisses were gentle, almost tender, but his hand was anything but soft.

“Just a little more, I promise,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and comforting. “What number was that?”

“Nine,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

“One more,” he whispered. “Just one last time. Can you be a good girl and count it out for me?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. He slowly lifted his hand again and paused in the air for a moment before letting it down in a firm, final spank.

“Ten!”

“Very good,” he praised softly, his voice warm and approving. He rubbed the stinging area gently as his lips found yours in a tender, reassuring kiss, his hand cradling your face gently.

“There, all done,” he said, pulling away. “Do you think you deserve your reward now?”

You nodded slightly, your body still humming from the intense sensations. “Please.”

His smile was soft when you met his gaze. “Alright,” he hummed. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through you as his fingers slipped between your legs again. The warmth of his fingers against your folds sent waves of pleasure through your body, and when he pressed gently against your clit, a gasp escaped your lips. You arched into his touch, every nerve ending tingling with the sensations he was creating. The pleasure built steadily, each stroke sending you higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Spencer,” you moaned, unable to hold back yourself as you arched your back, your hips grinding against his fingers, seeking more of the delicious friction.

“You’re so wet,” he sighed with a hint of surprise and satisfaction. “You like it when I go hard on you?” 

You could only nod in response, your mind barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he was working on you.

“Do you think you can take it if I go harder?” he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment, waiting for your response.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with desire. “I-I can take it.”

He answered you by slipping, not one, but two fingers into you without warning. The sound you let out was filthy, almost primal, a mix of a moan and a gasp that reverberated through the room. The unexpected intrusion drove you crazy, making it impossible to hold back your reactions as his fingers started to move inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that had your toes curling.

“God, you’re so tight,” Spencer sighed, his lips brushing against your ear. He could feel your walls clenching around him, contracting in response every time he thrust his fingers into you. It drove him wild. It consumed his mind. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way.

If you were wet before, you were absolutely drenched now. Your arousal stained his skin, and it amazed him how it didn't seem to stop. The liquid seemed to intensify, becoming the only noise in the room—a slick, wet sound that echoed softly as he started a faster pace, curling his fingers inside you.

You felt the pressure building, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your lower stomach. Every curl of his fingers, every stroke against that perfect spot inside you, sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m so close…”

He pulled your face closer to his, brushing his lips on your cheek. "Already?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, leaving a void that made you whimper in protest. But before you could voice your frustration, his hand came down sharply on your ass. The sudden slap made you wail, your jaw slacking open.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

You didn't know which surprised you more, his sudden withdrawal or the sharp sting of his slap. But both affected you like a storm suddenly breaking the calm, jolting your senses awake, heightening your senses.

With his hands still on you, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Have I proved you wrong yet?"

You could barely speak. Instead, you opted for a nod, hoping he’d understand your silent affirmation. But Spencer wanted more, he wanted to hear it. When your voice failed to form the words, his hand came down sharply again, a firm smack that made you gasp and arch your back.

"Not good enough," he said firmly. He then gripped your chin, turning your face to meet his gaze, forcing you to look directly into his eyes in this position. His hold was firm, his eyes intense. "Say it."

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words, but they came out as a soft whimper when you felt his fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt again. The stretch was even more delicious this time, intensifying the pleasure already floating in your veins, scattering your thoughts.

"Focus," he commanded, but how could you when he thrust his fingers into you at a mind-blowing speed? Each thrust seemed to demand an answer, it was as if he was using your own body against you, pushing you to the edge until the only thing you could think of was the control he had over you.

And it was working, because all you could focus on was him—his fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt, the intense gaze in his eyes, the warmth of his breath against your lips. Everything around you seemed to blur and only he remained clear.

"Say it," he urged again. "Say that you were wrong."

You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak, but his hard gaze and the relentless motion of his fingers forced the words from you. "I-I was... wrong."

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers never faltering. "I can't hear you, baby, need you to talk to me."

You moaned, your body trembling with the need for release. "I-I wanna cum."

"Hold it," he said firmly. His fingers didn't relent, maintaining that perfect rhythm, pushing you further, harder. "Say it louder."

You clenched around him, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. "I-I was wrong."

"I think you can do better than that."

You groaned. The pressure was too much and you fought to find your voice through the haze of pleasure. You could feel every ridge and curve of his fingers as they moved inside you, the friction building an unbearable heat that pooled low in your abdomen.

"I still can't hear you."

"I was wrong!" you cried out pathetically, your voice breaking with desperation. Your walls clamped around him, trying to draw him deeper as the slick, wet sounds of his movements filled your ears. You were drowning in the sensations, the tension inside you winding tighter and tighter. The world narrowed down to the feeling of his fingers inside you, the relentless pressure, the intense heat pooling in your core.

“Spencer, please,” your voice cracked, tears prickling down your cheeks again. You could taste the saltiness as you took a sharp intake of breath. "Please, please, please, please—"

"Now."

With that single word, the tension inside you snapped. A powerful surge of pleasure tore through you, starting at your core and radiating outward like a shockwave. Your vision blurred, and your entire body convulsed as the orgasm overwhelmed your senses. You cried out his name, and your muscles contracted around his fingers, squeezing tightly as the sensations spiraled out of control. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

Your skin felt electric. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode out the peak of your climax, hips bucked against his hand while his fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your orgasm, making it last longer than you thought possible. The intensity left you trembling, your body spent and your mind unable to process anything other than the overwhelming pleasure.

You finally collapsed against him moments later, your body limp and your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The intensity of your orgasm left you feeling both weightless and heavy as if all the strength had been drawn out of you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, your smaller frame draping effortlessly over his.

And this time, Spencer shouldn't be laughing, but he couldn't help himself. His chuckle was soft and warm, a sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into your body as you lay against him. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but you could sense his amusement.

"If I had any strength," you muttered, sinking into him. "I'd hit you so hard right now."

He laughed again, this time a bit louder. "Well, it's a good thing you're too worn out to try.”

"Don't get used to it," you warned, though there was no real threat in your tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But I do enjoy seeing you like this."

You nuzzled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion beginning to set in. Your eyelids grew heavy as you muttered, "Just don't forget who’s really in charge in this relationship."

"I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m—“ you stopped as a yawn suddenly hit you. “I’m… the dominant one here.”

"Sure, you are," he teased gently, stroking your hair as you settled comfortably against him, a smile playing on his lips.

“I… mean it.”

“Of course. You’re always in charge.”

You nodded sleepily. “And I’m… still going... to… hit you… later…”

He rested his head on top of yours, letting your body fully relax into his. “I look forward to it.”

With a final, contented sigh, you let yourself drift off on his lap, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful sleep.

[makeupbychio]

THE suit // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Now that you are officially part of the x-men team you need a suit. After the help from Hank and Charles to make the suit you kept the final result as a secret to Logan until he saw you in your first mission in THE suit. More than one time you needed more than one suit, not just because Logan will rip off a lot of them, but for other reasons. 

Warnings: Jealous Logan and being a little bit of a brat, Hank and Charles cameo, insecurity towards your body and powers, use of your powers (ecokinesis), Logan being the best protective and comforting boyfriend, mentions of smut, suggestive language, mentions of pregnancy.

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: So thanks for the anon for the request!! Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language. I put angst, fluff and mentions of smut so I hope you like this. Also, reminder that this is a safe place for all body sizes so that's why I don’t mention specifics measurements for the suit. ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them days after you are officially an x-men. Enjoy, love y’all!! <3. 

italics = past. 

— — —

“Hold on, wait. Hank is going to do your suit?” Logan stopped the conversation. You two at the cafeteria grabbing a late night snack. You took the pause to give a bite to your apple. 

“What about it? The Professor told me Hank did all of them” you answered him without any worry in your mind and didn't  understand why he had that frowning look on his face.

”I think Storm should be in charge since your powers are related to nature too”. Logan suggested, trying not to be an asshole. You understand where this was going when he sighed. 

“But Lo, the Professor designed the suits, Hank is just going to sew it and for that he needs to take the correct measurements” you refreshed Logan’s mind, like if it wasn’t obvious that a suit was not going to sew it itself. 

So after that Logan just stopped insisting about it. He trusted Hank of course but something was itching his brain. If he knew you already had an appointment with Hank last week to take the first measurement and the Professor explaining to you how he designed it for you and your powers. 

“So, Y/N. If you didn’t know, Hank came up with the idea to make the suits bulletproof and for your powers we needed to incorporate more resistance to heat changes in case your whole body is on fire or ice. So we needed to play with all of the opposite and different scenarios of the element you were going to manipulate or become, please try it on”. Charles explained to you the work behind your suit. You just nodded, but the Professor can read your mind and know your excitement when you ran to change your clothes and came back with the suit on.

“So you can basically turn into stone one moment and then disappear like air, so we create something that can resist that range of changes, and also of course something to be comfortable for you”. Hank added, proud of the technology he put in the suit while you looked at yourself in the mirror. “You can try it and test what I’m talking about”. 

So you did it, always careful not to hurt them. They were so happy with the final results and you couldn’t thank them enough and can’t wait any longer to wear it. 

“See you next week, Y/N”. The Professor reminded you about the final meeting to correct some details. 

So after that late snack, you both went to bed and before your appointment with Hank, Logan just stopped by his office and greeted him with a casual smile. 

“Logan, how can I help you? Y/N is not here” Hank thought he was there to be with you once you tried on your suit. 

“Don’t worry, she’s still in bed sleeping in our room” Logan gave a cocky smile and highlighted the ‘our’. “Actually I’m here to help YOU. In case you needed help with her suit, just to let you know that I made you a list of her measurements” Logan handed him a piece of paper with the different sizes of the clothes you have. He really thought that was going to work. “You’re welcome, so you don’t have to take the measurements yourself” He smiles proud of himself. 

Hank laughed and didn’t want to ruin Logan’s intention. He just thanked him, if Logan knew the suit was ready in the lab for you to try it and make the last changes. 

“Oh! I almost forgot” Logan turned to Hank before leaving his office. “She’s the smartest person I know, don’t get offended so I’m pretty sure she’s going to give you some ideas for the suit” he made a pause imagining you giving instructions to Hank. “And her favorite color is purple” Logan finally leaves the room without letting Hank answer. Heading himself to the dining room proud of his work. 

Hours later, you went directly to the lab where Hank and the Professor told you to meet. “Okay Y/N so tell us how you feel it, if you want to change something” Hank looked at you looking in the mirror. 

It was really comfortable even when it was really tight to your body. You felt so much confidence, you saw the x mark on it, that wasn’t on the suit the last meeting you had. Also it made justice to your figure and your beautiful curves. 

“Thanks again, it fits perfectly. But Hank I just wanted to ask you if it’s possible if you could add something to the suit…” Hank is paying attention to you. “If there could be like- I don’t know- something for you guys to know which element I’m manipulating or about to, so you don’t get yourself hurt out there during a mission” you asked him nervously because they are the experts.

”Mmmhh, it’s a really good idea but the enemy can use that information too against us to advance an attack” Hank really liked the idea but they had a surprise for you. 

“So dear, we also wanted for you to try this suit too” the Professor went to reach the suit he was talking about. Hiding it inside a box that was wrapped like a gift. 

“Guys, what is this?” you were in total awe when you opened the box. They know how easily you get emotional. Tears are already forming in your eyes. 

“We wanted for you to have your own suit, something that will be just for YOU…” Hank started explaining. “All of us have something that characterizes ourselves and our powers, so someone told us your favorite color is purple and it contrasts perfectly the green that represents your powers…” Hanks kept talking because you went speechless. “I know it sounds cliché to add green for your ecokinesis, if you don’t like it we can change it” he suggested.

You just ran to hug them because it was perfect. “So for your ideas you gave us, we design this…” the Professor handed you another box, but this time smaller. You opened it so fast. “We created these gloves for the changes of elements. So you can use it in the field or on a daily basis” you tried on them immediately and it blew your mind the technology it has, how it’s connected to you to change the colors related to the element, it sparkles so that makes them AMAZING.

“The gloves are more for the missions, because with the suit you hold your powers in case you are not conscious. Also the gloves help you to give your attack a precise target. We’ll learn more about both items while training” Hank explained. 

So when you first wore the x-men suit, you were so nervous about the mission, about everything so you changed clothes in your room. Thinking if this was a good idea. Literally everyone was waiting for you to step into the plane. 

“I’m going” Storm was about to go and search for you when you stepped into the ship. “There you are! K’ let’s go” Storm yelled at Scott to go.

Logan almost fainted, his claws making an appearance without previous warning. He quickly put them back, he was so excited he couldn’t resist to stay close to you. His flirting helped you to stop your nerves. “Sugar, you look amazing…” he gave you a kiss on your check, sitting next to you on the ship. He came closer to your face, whispering “I hope they made like a hundred suits because as soon as we're back in the mansion I’m going to rip it off. God, I can’t wait” You tried to hide the redness of your face, you warned him to behave. 

“Logan, I’m pretty sure the Professor can read your mind, I don’t want to be kicked out of the missions. Or give us separated missions. Do you want me to be paired with Scott instead?” you asked him with a teasing smile. 

“I’m sorry, love. But did you see yourself in the mirror before coming?” Logan really insisted but not too much. “Don’t worry, you’re going to kick asses today and I’ll protect you till the end of times” 

Like I said before, Logan after that would take any opportunity to join you for fittings. Especially if something is different. Logan would be there next to you when you are not comfortable with your body. If you are not comfortable with your powers every time you discover something new about them. After years, he will always be there for you, sitting in front of you looking at you with awe and comforting you even when you’re were not feeling it. 

The only time you skipped a mission was when your suit was not crossing your figure. You tried on your x-men suit and your own suit they made you and it was not stretching enough. The team was on a rush so they let you stay at the mansion. 

Logan asked you when they were back about what happened and you just told him you were feeling under the weather. The Professor already knew the real reason. You distracted Logan enough for you to go to Hank's office. 

“Hi, Hank. Can I ask you something?” you stepped into the room worried. Hank welcomed you worried about your absence in the last mission. “I had a problem with the suit, actually both suits. Is it possible for the fabric to be even more stretchable?” you asked him. 

Next day, after telling Logan the truth about you expecting and how suddenly a big bump you had appeared. That time he almost fainted too. So both of you were in the lab, the Professor and Hank giving you the congratulations when Hank was taking notes of your new measurements for your suits.

“Be careful there, big boy” Logan growled at Hank when he put the measuring tape around your belly. Logan was so protective over you and now your baby. You laughed at him telling not to worry, Logan looking at you with charming eyes while you rub your belly looking at yourself in the mirror. So this was really happening, starting a family.

Hank explained to you your new suits, which were going to be more comfortable for you considering the bump was going to grow even more. But the only thing Logan could think about is to protect you even more out there in the field. 

“Lo, look at me. I can do this” you hold his face when back in the room he told you to reject some missions that were too dangerous just to be cautious. He was scared that if you got injured really bad in your state. He was not going to stop you from going to the missions, because he knows you are one of the strongest and with a single snap you can beat your enemy but he can’t help himself from worrying. “And if I’m not feeling good or at my best to fight I’ll stay here”. you kissed him to calm him down. 

“I know, mama. You are the baddest out there. They could never beat you even if they tried” Logan kissed you back and kneeled to kiss your belly. “I wonder which powers our baby is going to inherit”. Next time Logan went to Hank’s office was to ask for a tiny x-men suit to surprise you. Hank couldn’t say no to Logan because he found a really cute gesture from him even when he had a lot of work left to do. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: A one night stand comes back to haunt you when your father plans to marry his mother. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, time skipping, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 6.1k F1 Masterlist || One || Two

December 2019

Two years ago you had spent an amazing week in Monaco during a European getaway. It was meant to be a once in a lifetime trip but now you sat opposite your father at the kitchen table in your family home trying to understand what he was saying.

“…the kindest woman. You’ll love her, just like I do.”

He fell in love so now you were expected to leave behind everyone you knew and just start a new life with his new family. You knew he had been happier since the trip but you never would have thought it was because of some long distance relationship. He had kept that to himself for a long time.

“Can’t you just have a midlife crisis like everyone else?” you asked. “Why are you moving us across the world for a stranger?”

“Did you not hear me? Pascale is not a stranger. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I love her.”

Resentment built and you pushed your chair back as you stood up. “You loved mum too, and look how that ended.”

Your father sighed and you immediately felt guilty for the heaviness in that one breath. It wasn’t his fault your mother decided domestic life wasn’t for her and left when you were just a baby. It wasn’t his fault that she met a man who had a motorcycle and flirted with the wrong side of the law. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that they crashed in a high speed police chase when you were 15.

You sank back into your seat and picked at the chipped Formica table top. “I’m sorry, dad.”

A calloused hand from a life of hard work gently patted yours. “It’s a big adjustment, pumpkin, but you said Monaco was a beautiful place. I thought you would be happy.”

“It was, but I’ll never see my friends.”

“I’m not saying you can replace them, but you’ll make new ones. And even with the different timezones I’m sure you can make arrangements to video call each other.”

He was making an effort, you could recognise that at least. “Fine. I suppose it won’t be that bad.”

August 2017

All of the streets seemed to look the same, the stonework buildings towering over you as the afternoon sun dipped even further below the mountains that bordered the place. You had no idea which way it was to get back to the hotel and you weren’t going to risk the international roaming charges to use the internet on your phone, you already spent most of your savings on the clothes in the bags that hung from your wrists.

You were too busy looking up and trying to get a sense of direction that you didn’t see the man getting out of his car. Pain flared in your knee as a door slammed into it and you dropped the bags to clutch your leg that throbbed and drew a groan from your lips. It was worse than hitting your funny bone and you grabbed the hood of the car to balance when you nearly teetered over.

“Mon Dieu, est-ce que tu vas bien?” 

You couldn’t understand a word he said but the accent was almost enough to make you feel better, until you looked up. The setting sun cast a golden glow around the man and you swore he was more beautiful than the godlike statues you had seen in Rome the week before. 

“I, I,” you stammered stupidly as he knelt down beside you and repacked the bags that had fallen to the street. His bright green eyes lingered on the red lace bra and panty set you had spent a small fortune on before he cleared his throat and shoved them in the bag. “I don’t speak French.”

“You should really be watching where you are walking,” he said as he stood up, his accent saturating his words and making the scolding sound sexy. And it was most definitely a scolding. “You could have been hit by a car.”

“I was,” you pointed out as you tested your leg and winced when you put your weight on it.

“I meant one that was driving past. It was a good thing I was parked.” He looked down his nose and shook his head. Somehow this stranger had managed to make you feel guilty for disappointing him, and it started to infuriate you.

“I really don’t think this is all my fault,” you snapped as you swiped your bags back. “This is a footpath, and that is a no parking zone. Maybe you should concentrate more on where you should be driving than how I should be walking.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he did the same until his lip twitched and a smirk broke out. “You think I am a bad driver?”

You looked at the double yellow lined he was parked over and squared your shoulders. “Does a duck quack?”

He mouthed the question back before he understood what you were implying and laughed as he took a step closer. “I like you, you are funny, and delusional. What is your name, and what are you doing tonight?”

You were still trying to figure out if he had complimented or insulted you when someone called out and stole his attention before you could answer.

“Charles, dépêche-toi!”

You both turned to the group that had arrived, all of the young men looking almost as handsome as he did. They had to be from the same modelling agency, or there was something seriously strong in the water here.

“Well?”

You looked at Charles and found he was still waiting for an answer. “Probably still trying to find my hotel.”

“Funny,” he chuckled before waving his friends off. “Je te rattraperai plus tard.” He took your bags and stuffed them in the backseat of his car before offering his hand. “I can’t have you walking these streets all night, god knows what trouble you could cause.”

“I was doing fine, until you hit me with your car, and now you want to drive me in it? Nuh-uh, I would rather take my chances on foot.”

You stepped around him to get your bags back, or at least you tried to but your aching knee gave out. You would have fallen to the pavement but a strong arm curled around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“You could have just asked if you wanted to hold me, biche.”

“Excuse me?” You pushed away from him and gritted your teeth through the pain. “I’m not sure in what world you think that is flirting, asshole.”

Charles threw his head back with a laugh and easily caught up to you, his palm heating the small of your back as he guided you around to face his car again “Biche, not bitch, it’s a cute little deer. I can call you Bambi instead, I quite like that. Unless you want to tell me your name?”

You rolled your eyes, unsure whether the endearment was an improvement at all, but stepped into the car when he opened the door for you. “No thanks, I don’t know if you are some sort of stalker.”

He laughed again before walking around to the driver's seat. “What hotel are you staying in?”

“The Fairmont.”

The flashy car roared to life and you turned to face Charles when his laughter grew. “So you would tell a stalker where you are staying but not your name?”

“That sounds to me like you are admitting you are a stalker,” you shot back with a daring arch of your brow. “Besides, I’m staying with a man that would snap you like a twig if you tried to turn me into a skin suit. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Your boyfriend?”

You snorted at the question and shook your head. “My father.”

He smiled at the news as he pulled out into the traffic and drove the short distance to the hotel. Your meandering had only left you two streets away from it so it was probably more of a nuisance to drive you there but Charles didn’t seem to mind. 

“Are you enjoying the city?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said with a nod. “It’s almost a shame to leave tomorrow.”

“Have you been to Jimmyz?”

“Not yet.” You had heard of the club but most nights had consisted of a late dinner with your father and then bed. It was actually the first day you hadn’t spent hanging out with him, he had gone to get a haircut that was long overdue after all the travelling and you had used the alone time for a little girl shopping.  

“You should come tonight, my friends and I are going and I owe you for hitting you with my car.”

January 2020

Your father thought it would be a good idea for Pascale to come and stay for a week before the big move. She owned a hair studio so it was easy to take some time off and she was due to arrive any moment. He had all but begged you to make an effort with Pascale before leaving for the airport. He had never brought a woman home, or at least while you were there, so it was strange to see how he fussed over the crumbs in the kitchen sink. 

You did a quick final inspection through the house but with most of the belongings already sold or shipped off to Monaco there was next to nothing that could make a mess. You only hoped all your things arrived in time at the other end. It was bad enough you were going to be staying with one of your step brothers to begin with but it was only for a few weeks while the renovations on the new house dad and Pascale had bought were finished. He promised that your room would have a view of the ocean and your own bathroom - it was absolutely a bribe but you were fine with that.

The car pulled into the driveway, past the large real estate sign with an unmissable SOLD sticker across it. You had seen a handful of pictures of Pascale on your dad’s phone but when she stepped out of the car you realised they didn’t do her justice. Despite being on multiple planes that never made for a decent sleep, she looked refreshed and even her hair was still in a perfect blowout. She was really pretty, or maybe it was the bright smile she gave your dad when he parked the car.

“Do I look alright, Peter?” she asked as she touched her hair nervously and straightened her blouse.

“It’s not an interview, sweetheart,” he chuckled as he grabbed her suitcase. “You look beautiful.”

August 2017

The club was unlike anything back home. The music seemed to seep into your skin, the bass vibrating in your bones. Even the air was intoxicating with the promise of a night of bad decisions.

“Bambi, I didn’t think you would actually come.”

You turned away from the bar and found Charles drinking in the sight of your short, tight dress. His eyes followed every line, dip and curve of your body and he bit his lip as he dragged them back up to your face. For the price you had paid you were happy it had the desired effect.

With your confidence bolstered you sent him a smirk and grabbed your drink that had been placed down. “Well you did say you owe me, you can start with my drink.”

Charles didn’t look away as he reached into his pocket and stepped closer, his hand reaching past to slap a bill on the bar top. His scent reached you, the cologne inviting you to lean closer and inhale the decadence of vanilla and bergamot. “The usual, please.”

He could have stepped back while his drink was made but he chose to stay close, his eyes flicking down your cleavage to see the red lace set he had been daydreaming about all evening. “How about we get out of here?”

You had fantasised about a summer romance since the trip began, what young woman wouldn’t when they were going to Europe? But you hadn’t been able to conjure a face as handsome as his when you closed your eyes late at night and your hand drifted beneath the blankets. Now you had the opportunity in the palm of your hands and you weren’t going to let it slip from your fingers.

Tipping your head back, you met his green eyes that dared you rise to the challenge. “Lead the way.”

February 2020

You were jet lagged and exhausted when you finally reached your temporary accommodation.

“Charles is just on his way back from work but he shouldn’t be too far away. Make yourself at home, sweetheart,” Pascale said as she helped you with your bags.

The apartment was bare with mostly blank white walls and a few framed pictures of Ferrari cars. It was a typical boy space that was in desperate need of soft furnishings to liven it up, but that wasn’t your problem to deal with.

“He just bought the place so he’s still finding his ‘vibe’,” Pascale noted when she saw you eying up the empty space, the words sounding like they were verbatim and not her own. “But there’s two bedrooms and two bathrooms so you’ll have your own space. The builder said our house will be finished in a few weeks.”

“It’s great, Pascale,” you assured her as you set your bag down on the bed with a long yawn. You were surprised to find it had a floral duvet and a sheet set already made up - something you were sure she had done for you.

She nodded and placed your other suitcase down before leaving, closing the door most of the way. “I’ll let you rest for a bit.”

You woke to voices down the hall and found a blanket had been draped over you at some point.

“Can’t she sleep on Enzo’s couch? I don’t even know her, she could try to sell my things. There have been stranger things done before.”

“Ah-ah, no, and she doesn't even watch racing. Peter said she had no interest in the sport.” Pascale sighed heavily, the same way your father did when he was having to repeat himself. “She’s a lovely young lady, and she’s going to be family so please treat her as such.”

August 2017

“Where are we going?”

Charles just smiled and kept driving through the quiet streets before pulling into a hotel far nicer than the one you were staying in.

“You live in a hotel?”

He laughed and tossed his car key to the valet driver. “No, but I have a roommate who would probably not be very happy with me if we woke him.”

He already had a room and led the way to the elevators with the confidence of a man who had certainly been here before. You didn’t mind, you were hardly a saint, and you knew exactly what you were doing when you dressed for the night out. You knew how you wanted the night to end.

For a man who looked eager to undress you, like he had done with his eyes, he didn’t touch you until the door was firmly closed behind him. But once that door locked shut it was as if the leash he had kept a hold of himself with was dropped and he pinned you against the wall, his lips finding the hollow of your neck.

The temperature in the room seemed to swell as his kiss climbed higher and he finally reached your lips. You moaned at the feel of his hands roaming your body and his tongue slipped past your parted lips when he dragged the zip down your spine.

“J'ai envie de le faire depuis que je t'ai vu pour la première fois. You are so fucking sexy.” [I have been wanting to do this since I first saw you.] He stepped back and watched the material fall away to reveal the tempting red lace he had been dying to see.

Your heart skipped a beat at the hunger in his eyes and you reached behind your back to unclip the bra. It was thrilling to watch the colour of his eyes fade to black as you revealed more skin to him but when you reached for your panties he spurred forward to stop you.

“Mine,” he stated as he brushed your hands aside and hooked his fingers into the waistband instead. Falling to one knee, he dragged the lace down your thighs and let them tangle around your ankles before kissing your hip. Your head fell back against the wall with a thud as he nudged your legs apart and pulled one leg over his shoulder. “What’s my name?”

Your forehead crumpled as his breath warmed your cunt and you buried your hands in his hair to hurry him up, but he was too strong.

“What’s my name?” he repeated.

“Ch-Charles,” you stammered as his fingers teased your entrance without delving further, driving you wild with need.

“Good girl, remember that when I make you scream.”

The words left you drunk and you would have dared him to make good on them but his tongue found your clit and two fingers curled into your cunt. All thoughts left your head while he was knelt fully dressed before you and all too soon his name echoed across the room as he brought you to your first of many highs.

You could barely walk by the time you collapsed on the king bed and your head was spinning from the various positions you had found yourself in. You only bothered to move when a phone vibrated on the bedside table and you reached over to see if it was yours.

Giada: When are you coming home?

“Need a break, Bambi?” Charles teased as he returned from the minibar with a bottle of water, cracking the top off and offering it to you first.

You took the bottle with a grateful smile and swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease your dry throat. “Who’s Giada?”

His eyes flicked to his phone and he grabbed it, quickly replying to the message before tossing it aside and caging you beneath his body. “My roommate. Now, where were we?”

You should have been in a dead sleep but something had woken you. It was an ungodly hour given the darkness that was still outside but it did mean you saw the light of Charles' phone. His soft snores were silenced by the pillow he buried his face in and you took a second to admire the sight of his toned body in the moonlight.

Giada: It’s so hard to sleep without you here. I love you xxx

You slipped out of the bed without waking him and hated how good the ache between your legs felt because of him. You should have known a man like him was bound to have a girlfriend. She was probably a model.

You quickly gathered your clothes and dressed on the way to the door, closing it silently behind you. No one had to know you were even there and in a few hours you would be heading to the airport, never to see Charles again.

It took far longer than you expected to find your way back to the hotel and your father was already awake when you entered the room.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

You continued on your way to your bedroom in desperate need of a shower before packing. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fair enough.”

You reemerged looking refreshed but you still felt contradictory inside. You told yourself that you did nothing wrong but it didn’t help when you knew there was a woman waiting at home for the man you had fucked. Fucked didn’t begin to cover what you had done - he had hung the stars and the moon, he had expanded your mind to the pleasures that could be sought with the right experience and partner. He had ruined you for all the men back home.

You fought to tug the zip of your suitcase closed, more than ready to leave the place behind, and growled in frustration. Your dad knew better than to bring attention to your mood but he gently moved you aside and closed the stubborn zip himself.

“How was your night?” you asked as you went to the kitchenette and made a strong brew of coffee.

He smiled to himself and picked up the suitcase to add it to the pile by the door but his smile dimmed when he saw how miserable you looked. “Nothing special, I just had dinner and a walk by the water.”

Normally you would have picked up on the lie, but you were too self centred to notice how happy he looked. He was glowing.

February 2020

You followed the voices to the living room and found Pascale in the doorway saying her goodbyes. You couldn’t see the face of the man she was talking to, only a head of dark hair, but he turned when his mothers attention was drawn away. 

“You…” you breathed as you recognised the green eyes that had haunted your dreams for two years. Pascale frowned and you plastered a fake smile as you held your hand out. “You must be Charles.”

“I am,” he hummed as he looked at your hand before enveloping it in his much larger one. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’ll see you both for dinner tonight, Charles can drive you until we get you a car.”

Charles seemed to be hearing the news for the first time. “I can?” 

“Yes, you can. Now make sure she feels at home alright, maybe introduce her to some of your friends.” Pascale blew a kiss and left Charles to close the door.

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he locked it and you realised at that moment just how fucked you were because, despite the quick prayer you had sent, Charles had recognised you too. “Hello again, Bambi.”

“Fuck me,” you muttered beneath your breath.

Charles smirked and booped you on the nose as he walked past you and towards his kitchen. “No thanks, you’re going to be my sister soon.”

You hated that for a second you were disappointed before common sense returned and you went to your room to find your phone. “Dad, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Charles is an asshole, that’s why,” you whispered angrily, your eyes scanning the bottom of your door to see if he was eavesdropping. 

“It’s only for two weeks, three at the most, plus he will be heading back to Italy for work on Monday.”

“Who the hell works in Italy and lives in Monaco?”

“He does, you would know that if you had a conversation with him and got to know him.”

“I don’t want to get to know him, I want to go home.”

“This is home now,” your dad said quietly as you heard Pascale arrive home at the other end. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

You flopped onto your bed with a groan as the call ended. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks. You groaned again as you realised that it may be just two weeks of living with him but there would be a lifetime of having him as your step brother. “Fuck!”

“I might have to get a swear jar to cover your half of the utilities.”

You surged upright and found Charles leaning against the balcony door, a balcony you apparently shared with his room next door. “Can I just make one thing very clear? As far as I am concerned, whatever happened two years ago - it didn’t. Nothing happened. I never saw you before today.”

“Nothing happened?” he chuckled as he walked into the room. “You still have that sense of humour because I remember a lot happening. Do I need to jog your memory?”

You hated how your body betrayed you, how your eyes followed his every step as he closed the distance between you. “You’re actually sick. Our parents are getting married.”

He stopped in front of you, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and his eyes traced your lips. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“Giada wasn’t your roommate.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he admitted with that same smirk that simultaneously had you wanting to both slap it or kiss it away. “I have a new roommate now.”

“Not for long, I am gone as soon as the house is ready.”

“Oh, Bambi,” he laughed, swaggering his way back to the balcony door. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Asshole.”

“Biche.”

“Charles, you should introduce Y/N to Charlotte,” Pascale said as she poured another wine for you. “That’s his girlfriend. You would probably get along with her, she’s about your age and a very nice girl too.”

You bit your tongue as you raised your glass to your lips and stared at Charles over the rim. Placing the glass back down, you smiled sweetly. “Is that right? I could do with making a girlfriend here, someone to talk about boys with. Maybe she can set me up with a handsome Frenchie.”

A foot kicked you under the table and you chuckled at the glare he was sending you over the greek salad. 

“We go to brunch on Sunday,” Pascale said with a pat to your hand. “You should come.”

“Count me in.” You stabbed a sweet cherry tomato with your fork before sealing your lips around it and humming in delight. “This was a delicious meal.”

Charles soon declared he was exhausted from the drive back from wherever it was he worked in Italy and Pascale looked a little disappointed that the first family dinner was cut short. Since he was your ride, you had to say goodnight to everyone too and followed him out to the car that was even flashier than what he had two years ago. His Ferrari fixation was more than just pictures of the cars in his apartment but he drove one too. 

“You are quite eager to leave,” you noted as you lowered yourself into the passenger seat, your skirt riding up your thighs as you settled into the leather. Charles inhaled sharply as he saw the hint of your panties peek out and slammed the door shut before storming his way around the car.

“I’m in half a mind to take you over my lap and turn your ass red,” he growled as he pulled out of the driveway. 

“Arthur is lovely,” you commented as you smiled at your reflection in the window. You were absolutely enjoying the way Charles gritted his teeth, but he had started this dance in your bedroom. “He offered to keep me company while you are away next week. I think I might enjoy his company more than yours.”

“Biche,” he warned as he broke the speed limit and practically skidded to a stop in his reserved parking spot. “You’re mine. No one else touches you. Ever.”

You slipped out of the car and felt his eyes on your ass as you climbed the stairs to the apartment. Though you had a key you waited for him to open the door and kept your voice low while he fumbled with the lock in his frustration. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me,” he argued as he turned the key and shoved you through the doorway. 

“Is that what your girlfriend tells you?”

“No, she prefers me with nothing on.” 

You could understand why that was but didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you agree as you went to your room. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Night, ma biche.”

It was still early but you refused to leave your room, instead opening your laptop to watch a movie. You were halfway through a stupid rom-com when you heard a feminine voice in the apartment and you paused it to check you weren’t hearing things.

“Oh, Charles, bébé, baise-moi!”

You rolled your eyes at the sounds of the headboard banging on the wall you shared and rifled through your bag to find a pair of headphones. It seemed that they grew louder or you became hyper aware of what was happening in the room next door, and a needy throb began between your legs when you heard Charles moan deeply. 

Your frustration built until you disappeared into the bathroom and doused yourself in a cold shower, cursing him the entire time you waited for your blood to cool. You could finally think clearly after drying off and recognised he was only making his next move in the game he had started. It was time to start planning yours. 

Charles' steps faltered when he emerged from his bedroom shirtless but he recovered quickly and walked past your position on the couch as he went to get himself a drink of water. 

“You should try Gatorade,” you suggested as you flipped through the channels leisurely. “I find it better than water after a good fucking.”

“What are you wearing?” he finally asked after emptying the glass in one breath and wiping his lips dry.

“This is how I sleep,” you said as you stretched your legs out onto the ottoman. “Is that a problem for you?”

His eyes followed the line of your legs to the edge of the black and red babydoll you wore and cleared his throat. “No, no problem.”

“Charles, who are you talking to?” A pretty brunette emerged from the room and scanned the room, taking in her half naked boyfriend talking to you who was barely dressed much more than him. 

You rose to your feet before Charles could recover and bounced over to the young lady, wrapping her in a hug. “You must be Charlotte, maman’s told me so much about you. I thought I would have to wait until Sunday to meet you.”

“Maman? Sunday?” she asked as she looked at Charles for the answers.

“This is Y/N, my step sister - or soon to be -” he added quietly. “Maman invited her to brunch.”

“We are going to be great friends, Lottie,” you sang as you stepped back with a grin. “I just know it.”

Charles nearly broke his glass as he tossed it in the sink and headed back to his room, returning a moment later with a sweatshirt and jeans on. “Allez, mon amour,” he called to Charlotte as he grabbed his keys. 

You pouted playfully as he led her to the door. “She can sleep over, I don’t mind - I have earplugs.”

Charlotte flushed pink and clearly had no idea you were in the house while they were getting down and dirty. It made it all the more entertaining as you waved goodbye. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Charles waited until Charlotte had passed the doorway before following, casting a final glance your way. “Don’t wait up.”

You felt his presence in your room before you saw him step out of the shadows with just a towel slung low on his hips and the bed dipped under his weight. “Well played,” he admitted, flopping back and making himself comfortable. 

Rolling over, you turned to face him and tucked your arm under your head. “Did you think about me when you were with her?”

His lips twitched before he gave in to the smile. “Every fucking second.” 

“She’s pretty.”

He reached out and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re beautiful.” 

You could feel yourself falling to the temptation that his lips provided and it was getting harder to resist taking what you wanted. “You should go back to your room.”

“Your lips say one thing but these say another,” he teased as his touch drifted over your collar and down to your breasts, the thin babydoll doing little to hide your nipples that had hardened since he laid down in the bed. “They are begging for something else entirely.”

“Charles,” you whispered as you leaned into his touch before you could think better of it. 

“I forgot how good my name sounded on your lips,” he hummed as his hand slipped beneath the material, “but I like it better when you scream it.”

“This is a bad idea.”

It didn’t stop him from rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb and drawing a soft sigh from you. “Why is this a bad idea, biche?”

“Because you have a girlfriend, and you’re my step…step…fuck…” Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped between your legs and he touched you over your panties.

“Let me worry about Charlotte, you just relax and spread those lovely legs wider for me.”

“This is going to end badly.” You knew it but it didn’t stop your knees from parting for him. There was something about him that threw caution to the wind, it had been that way the first time you met too. He was pure temptation. He was the apple and you were Eve, unable to resist taking a bite. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

He bit his lip as he watched how your body danced for his touch. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” you conceded as you watched his eyes darken with lust. “Now please fuck me.”

Charles woke alone for the second time after sleeping with you but he smiled when he heard music playing in the living room. “You stayed,” he teased as he walked down the hall, trying to tame his hair along the way. 

“Didn’t have another option but I have found some short term rentals to view next week.”

He froze and his hands dropped to his side. “Wait, you were serious?”

“Yes, this isn’t going to work because if I’m anywhere near you this will just keep happening, and it was a mistake.”

The pop music suddenly grated on Charles' nerves and he grabbed the remote, changing it to another channel before tossing the remote away. You knew he was sulking at the thought of losing his plaything but you ignored him and watched the French news that you couldn’t understand. 

Something on the tv caught Charles’ attention though and he sat up straighter, his arms unfolding as his mouth parted in surprise. The breaking news headline was one that was universal and you realised something big was happening. 

“What is it?” you asked as he remained fixated on the tv. 

“It’s that virus,” he murmured. You had seen it on the news at home before the move, the outbreak reaching all across the globe as it spread person to person. You had been worried about it on the plane with each cough you heard. “It’s spreading here.”

“Okay, and?”

 His hand found its way to his mouth and he bit his nails as he listened, translating and relaying the information for you in sporadic bursts. “You won’t need that rental, Bambi.”

“Why?”

He turned to you with an odd look that you couldn’t quite figure out, possibly apprehension or anticipation or a mix of both. “At midnight tonight the whole country is going into lockdown.” 

His phone started ringing almost immediately and he excused himself to take the call. “It’s work.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” You grabbed your phone and dialled your dad. “Did you hear what’s happening? What do we do?”

“Relax, pumpkin, it’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “It’ll all blow over quickly, I’m sure. They can’t stop the world from turning, can they?”

You laughed in agreement and felt a little better by the time you hung up the phone, but Charles returned looking stressed as he dropped onto the couch beside you.

“Good news or bad news first?”

You didn’t think it mattered either way and just shrugged.

“Italy is also going into lockdown so there’s no reason to go back on Monday.” He draped his arm over your shoulders and pull you into his side. “Looks like we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Is that the good or the bad news?”

“Well, I like my job so not being able to do it is bad for me, but being trapped with you indefinitely certainly sounds good to me.”

“Indefinitely?” you laughed and shook your head. “As soon as the house is done I’m gone.”

Charles' laughter silenced you and his kissed your temple. “Oh, Bambi…The builders will be locked down too, nothing will be finished any time soon. You’re all mine.”

“Shit,” you groaned in realisation. It was going to be impossible to keep your hands off him and from the grin on his face he knew it too.

“This is going to be great.”

Click here for part two.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 CHIVALRY FELL ON ITS SWORD

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: history always repeats itself. dazai is captured, you're facing enemies on all fronts, and it's only a matter of time before you hit your breaking point. you can't let things turn out the same way they did two years ago. you can't—you'll do whatever it takes.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday my peeps, i hope your week has been good. ive been looking forward to this chapter for sooooo long so i hope you enjoy ;) unfortunately, there will be no wykyk update this week (i mean it this time), i've fallen behind in civzai and really need to focus on it. reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of psychological torture (commit by reader), both reader and dazai are wildly unstable, mori is a bit of a cunt LOL, a bit of legal proceedings in the beginning but i didn't want to deep dive into japanese court proceedings so i just based it mostly off us court proceedings, but again, not entirely accurate because i'm not in that field and didn't feel like doing intense research.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in thIS chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“... Your Honor, I have to object to counsel’s petition for bail, the defendant…”

“... If I may, Your Honor, we don’t even know how this footage was obtained and the prosecution has not acknowledged any of our requests to ensure that this is reliable. For all we know, this footage is edited or illegally obtained. It would be a disgrace to our justice system if we were to keep the defendant detained with no bail…”

“... not only a flight risk, but we’re risking witness and evidence tampering. Respectfully, this isn’t an unarmed robbery the defendant is being accused of, Your Honor, this woman is a threat to public safety, she’s being charged with connection to the most dangerous criminal organization in the Eastern Hemisphere, and not just as any ordinary member, but as an executive. I have to insist-”

“Your Honor, the defendant shouldn’t have even been brought into custody considering all current evidence might not be admissible. And the prosecution cannot sit here making baseless claims of risk when the only supporting evidence is inadmissible. I don’t even understand why I have to sit here and argue this.”

“Counsel seems to think-”

“Enough. Order. I’ll sustain the ob-”

“Your Honor… I don’t mean to interrupt but you may want to see this before…”

“What is it, Hasegawa-san?”

“... I see, very well. The defense’s petition for bail is granted. Bail will be set at one hundred and fifty million yen, bond at thirty million yen. The next hearing will be set for two weeks out, I trust that gives the prosecution enough time to prove the legitimacy of the evidence…”

“Don’t look at any of the cameras.”

“No shit,” you mutter as your attorney, Tachibana, leads you from the courthouse to where a car is waiting to pick you up. 

There are so many flashing lights and microphones in your face that you can hardly see a few steps in front of you. So many people talking that each question melds into the next. You couldn’t entertain the media even if you wanted to with them all talking over each other to shout at you. Your head hurts and the bright lights aren’t helping—you grimace as you turn your head to the side but you’re only met with another face full of cameras and microphones.

“Back up,” a familiar voice booms and at once, the tension in your body dissipates as Iceman shoulders his way through the crowd toward you. The man sneers at a paparazzo who tries to cut him off and all but knocks him out of the way to reach forward and grab your wrist, yanking you toward him.

He ushers Tachibana forward and keeps you tucked under his arm as he guides the two of you to the black car. It’s only when you’re inside and the door is shut behind you, that you can finally relax, but it’s only for a split second before Albatross is bursting into laughter in the front seat before you’ve even sat down yourself.

“You look ugly as hell in a prison uniform,” he wheezes, having the audacity to point at you as he turns around to look at you. “God, I never thought this day would come. Someone take a fucking picture.”

“Fuck off,” you snap at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

“The entire world has pictures at this point,” Doc says dryly, looking over you once and frowning at the bruises on your wrists where the cuffs had been tightened too much. He clicks his tongue as he runs his finger across them as you pass by him before sighing, “They really waited as long as they legally could for your arraignment, didn’t they?” 

 Two whole days. You haven’t eaten because you had to watch the prison guard spit in your food before passing it over to you—evidently, his brother was killed by the Port Mafia and he decided to take that out on you, which was nice. So as if you weren’t dealing with enough bullshit, you haven’t properly slept or eaten in two days.

More than that, you’ve had no confirmation concerning Dazai’s status in two days. 

That alone has left you with no appetite and no desire to sleep anyway. You’ve been restless trying to figure what to do if Klaus wasn’t able to get Dazai away from the Guild. That is, restless, and increasingly more violent and angry. You’ve never been someone prone to choose violence as the answer, but you think the only thing that will satisfy you now is the entire organization eviscerated. Not only have they gotten you thrown in prison, but they have Dazai.

You finally take a seat next to Chuuya. He’s stuffed in the back corner of the limo so that no unsavory eyes could catch sight of him when Iceman ushered you and Tachibana into the car. As soon as you take a seat next to him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and squeezes your bicep. You almost want to collapse into him—you’re so tired and hungry and just so mentally and physically drained that all you want to do is sleep, but you know you can’t, not until you have Dazai back.

Just as you’re about to look up at Klaus and ask him how things went, Piano Man speaks up, addressing Tachibana. “How are things looking?”

The man grimaces. “Not good. They could hold her liable for all of the crimes attributed to the Port Mafia if the jury finds the footage as proof of her affiliation,” Tachibana says. “The last time they had a Yakuza boss on trial, they had him sentenced to death and he was only being held vicariously liable for one murder and three assaults. They have her down for six and all of the other crimes they’ve been gathering as evidence against the Port Mafia just in case they were given an opportunity like this. If-”

“Why are we talking about a jury trial?” you ask tightly, giving Tachibana a cool look from the corner of your eye. “Get the charges dropped.”

A frustrated expression crosses Tachibana’s face. “But-”

“No buts, do your goddamn job and get this dismissed,” you tell him before turning your attention to Klaus. “What’s the situation with the journalists?” 

Klaus looks mighty proud of himself as he raises his chin. “They’re dead. Do you want to hear how I did it? It was quite ingenious if I do say so myself.”

He looks excited to tell you, eyes gleaming and smiling wide, so even though you should just drill him for information about Ui and Dazai, you decide to entertain him and nod. 

“Tell me,” you say, hoping at least hearing that those irritating pests got what they deserved is enough to ease the seemingly insatiable bloodlust the past few days has caused you before you get back to headquarters and have to deal with Ace.

Klaus is clearly trying to hold back a laugh as he prepares to tell you. From the way Atsushi looks a bit green next to him, you know whatever he’s about to tell you is going to be gross.

“They’re called the Ivory Eagle, right?” he says rhetorically, blue eyes dancing as he stares directly at you, waiting for you to nod again. When you do, he continues, “You see, when I was back in Europe with the Pale Flame, we learned a lot about ancient torture and execution methods. Nabakov had the trafficked ability users fight in rings, y’know, gladiator style—the winner of the fight would pick a method to punish the loser with in front of everyone. The vikings had a ritual execution method called the blood eagle, so I thought it would be funny ‘cause y’know, the name? Ivory Eagle, blood eagle? They can keep their theme even in death!” 

“I should not be hearing this,” Tachibana sighs, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

You snort. “May they soar to greater heights,” you mock their slogan and Klaus lets out a loud bark of laughter, bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“I knew you would get it, I’m so funny.” he laughs, nudging Atsushi hard, but the weretiger only looks like he’s about to start crying, so Klaus looks back at you, teeth glimmering as he smiles widely.

“What happened with Ui?” you ask, glancing down to see Chuuya passing you a bottle of water. You give him a grateful look before redirecting your attention back to your subordinates. “And where’s Akutagawa?” 

“That ugly journalist confirmed they worked with the Guild to get the footage from your boyfriend,” Klaus says, and even though you knew this, it still makes you feel sick. “... I went by his apartment. It was totally trashed, there was blood on the sidewalk. I’ve spent the past two days trying to hunt down the Guild but I can’t find them anywhere. I was planning on going to the Armed Detective Agency later today to get that one detective to tell me where they are. Figured they wouldn’t be opposed to helping considering they’re getting the shit end of the stick with the Guild too, I heard two of them were trapped for days in an interdimensional space before they were able to get them out.”

“Akutagawa and Kyouka-chan are out doing rounds around the city. Kyouka-chan found one of the lower-ranked Guild members wandering around the city, she’s hoping that she’ll lead her back to their base,” Atsushi adds, answering your second question.

You let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your lap. Apartment trashed. Blood. The water you had just sipped threatens to come back up, you feel Chuuya squeeze your bicep again to try to comfort you, but you don’t care for comfort, you only want Dazai. You want him back in your apartment, back in your arms, you want him safe, you want him.

You want him.

“We’ll get him,” Chuuya promises like he can hear your thoughts. You suppose it’s probably written all over your face. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? I won’t let the fucking Guild take him from you.”

He’s spent two days with them. God knows what they’ve done to him to try to get information about you��the thought makes your skin crawl, your chest weighs with guilt. You brought him into this life knowing this risk and you still couldn’t protect him. You need to do something, you need to-

“Chuuya,” you say quietly, “can I borrow your phone?” 

Chuuya’s brows furrow but he nods, passing his phone over to you. You ignore the way your fingers tremble as you type in a familiar number and press the phone to your ear, you wait a few anxious seconds for the person on the other line to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Leo,” you breathe out. “Are you still in New York?”

“You’re okay,” Leo Tolstoy sighs, the relief in his voice palpable. “I saw the news. I figured they wouldn’t be able to keep you locked up long. I’m still here, yeah, I have a flight to Tokyo in an hour. I just had to finish up-”

“Cancel it,” you say immediately, fingers digging into the thin pants you’re wearing. “I need to call in a favor.”

“Hit me with it,” he tells you. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Good, you think, lips curving up as you tell Tolstoy your plan. 

There’s only one way to force Fitzgerald into giving you Dazai back, and you’re willing to go to any lengths to do it.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice notes just as Dazai starts stirring awake. “Good.”

He’s been in and out of consciousness for two days now—awake for a few hours, asleep for double that. He almost wishes that the blow to the head had killed him, because each time he wakes up, he’s questioned sharply about you and he’s tired of it. The first two days of captivity, when Dazai was awake, he spent most of his time staring at the ceiling, your words ringing through his head and your twisted expression plain as day. He’s recounted every word of his conversation with you before he fled, he’s noted every place where he messed up and could have done something different to avoid this, he’s felt so numb that he would almost prefer pain and he’s felt so much regret that it did physically pain him.

Now, he’s just irritated. 

Irritated and tired and hungry and most of all, he misses you. Misses you so much that you’re the only thing he can think of clearly. Misses you so much that it makes him sick. Misses you so much that he’s started casting up prayers to gods he doesn’t believe him because he just wants the chance to see your face again.

Thus far, he’s been able to evade answering any questions, but he has a feeling it’s only a matter of time before they start taking more extreme measures to get the information out of him, and Dazai has never been one to deal well with pain. He doubts he’ll be able to get away with lying to throw them off trail for long.

“Nope,” he says tiredly, rolling over onto his side to turn his back on the man. “Still sleeping, unfortunately.”

Dazai doesn’t know who this one is. 

He’s gotten used to the other two over the past forty-eight hours—the redhead is called Mark Twain, a high-ranking member of the Guild whose preferred form of torture is casual conversation. It’s predictable and Dazai, naturally, doesn’t fall for it, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He comes into the cell with food and water that Dazai refuses to touch and talks to Dazai from the moment he wakes up to the moment he passes back out. He asks about you and the Port Mafia without actually asking about you and the Port Mafia, talks about his own woman back home and bitches about his work with the Guild, seeing if Dazai will chime in with his own commentary and grievances.

Dazai doesn’t, of course—there’s not much he can say about the Port Mafia anyway, the things you’d talked about with him are irrelevant at this point, and Dazai certainly is not going to tell Twain anything about you. He knows that the Guild must be looking for information on your ability and Dazai will be damned if he lets anything about it slip. The most he’ll make is snide comments, hoping to piss Twain off enough to leave, but then he has to deal with the other man, James, who is far less pleasant to deal with. Dazai can hardly stand the sight of him and he isn’t sure if it’s because 1) he’s just unappealing to look at, 2) his head injury, or 3) he still has a grudge over the head injury. 

He thinks maybe it might be all of the above. 

Regardless, the voice of the new arrival is neither Twain’s nor James’s, which means he has a new yet equally undesired visitor. Dazai, naturally, is wary of the unknown. He’d overheard Twain and James talking about Francis getting involved and he remembers that you mentioned the leader of the Guild’s name is Francis Fitzgerald. He has a distinct suspicion that this must be him and Dazai’s only thought is that this definitely doesn’t bode well for him.

“Mister Dazai, please, you need not make this difficult on yourself,” Fitzgerald sighs. “We already have all of the information we need anyway. We want to help you.”

What.

Dazai’s cautious now as he sits up to face Fitzgerald, mind racing as he tries to figure out what exactly he means by ‘we have all of the information we need.’ Dazai has been so careful not to let anything slip—even when he was half delirious from his head wound, he bit his tongue. He didn’t utter a single thing until he was certain that his brain was functioning well enough for him to carefully choose each word he spoke. 

There’s no way that they managed to get anything from what he’d said.

The blonde man sitting on the opposite side of the room is dressed in a fancy suit and wears a watch that probably costs more than anything Dazai has ever owned in his life. He looks unusually earnest as he leans forward, elbows on his knees as observes Dazai. Dazai thinks that he’s decently good at reading people, and he can’t find a hint of deception in Fitzgerald’s face, which leaves Dazai feeling distinctly unnerved, unable to predict what’s about to happen to him.

“I find that hard to believe when your subordinate bashed my head in two days ago,” Dazai replies, keeping his voice light but watching Fitzgerald carefully. 

“My friend, Henry, is quite excitable,” Fitzgerald sighs, faux-remorse dripping from his tone. “I apologize for him, I was very clear that you weren’t to be injured.”

That doesn’t really help Dazai at all. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to press Fitzgerald and figure out what he learned from Dazai. Luckily, he doesn’t have to say much at all because Fitzgerald takes it upon himself to continue talking.

“There were some pieces of information I kept to myself during our endeavor here in Yokohama,” Fitzgerald says. “There are too many… rats scuttering around the sewers. It’s hard to tell who’s listening at any given time. Everyone has their own agendas, and there’s just some information that’s too valuable to risk falling into anyone’s hands but your own. Even supposed allies’.”

Rats. Allies. Agendas. Dazai’s mind races as he notes it all down to tell you as soon as you get him out of here. He doesn’t respond to Fitzgerald’s words, waiting for him to make the mistake of continuing his little monologue so he can have more information to report back to you. From what he’s able to piece together, there’s more than just Fitzgerald and the Guild at work here, but you haven’t mentioned any other organizations besides them, which makes him antsy because if you don’t know that this is multiple organizations working together against the Port Mafia… 

You could be in danger.

“I was already made aware of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, watching Dazai for a reaction. He’s careful not to give one, but his words make Dazai’s skin crawl. You’d said that your ability was the most well-guarded secret in the Port Mafia. That only the upper echelon was aware of it. 

So how?

The traitor.

Dazai’s throat swells and it’s much harder to keep his distressed emotions off of his face when he remembers the tip-off that Professor Ui had received about a situation happening at the ports on Shinko, remembers that he alluded to someone within the Port Mafia’s inner circle being the informant, remembers that in his meltdown, he never even told you.

Shit.

“Henry, he is also an ability user,” Fitzgerald continues. Dazai is grateful that he seemingly doesn’t notice his increasing panic. “What Maisie Knew, an ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying. My intention in bringing you here was not to interrogate you, but to find out if you knew the extent of the manipulation happening around you.”

Dazai blinks slowly, letting the words process through his head. An ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying… but would that even work on Dazai? You tried to use your ability on him with and without touch and it didn’t affect him, so this one shouldn’t either. And if he wasn’t notifying him when Dazai was lying about knowing nothing about your ability… 

“Henry told me that you were telling the truth when they asked you about your knowledge of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, and Dazai almost hates the pity thinly veiled behind the man’s eyes. He doesn’t like anyone thinking that he doesn’t know something about you, but he lets this slide because it might just work in his favor. “Her ability is a form of mental manipulation. She influences the emotions of people around her to trust and adore her. What you felt for that girl was nothing more than what she wanted you to feel—she’s spent months shaping your mind to make you believe you care for her so that in a situation like this, you would choose to protect her even at the cost of your own life.”

The surprise that shifts across Dazai’s face is genuine—not because of the revelation of your ability like Fitzgerald believes—but because Fitzgerald does know your ability, and he knows it in an alarming amount of detail. He wishes he had some way of contacting you now, but he needs to focus now on figuring out how he’s going to play this.

They didn’t kidnap him to interrogate him. They kidnapped him to try to make him willingly turn against you by revealing all of your ‘manipulations’ in an effort to rattle you into making a mistake. A decent plan, honestly, and if Dazai were anyone but Dazai, it might’ve worked… but Dazai is Dazai—he’s never been affected by your ability, or Fitzgerald’s subordinate’s, or any ability for that matter, and he would rather die than turn against you.

But… would it be better to make Fitzgerald think that he has turned against you? It would be safer for him, surely. If the man thought Dazai was swayed to his side, he might even have a chance to escape… but it could also throw you off if Fitzgerald tells you, and Dazai isn’t sure if he wants to risk that considering there’s apparently other allies of the Guild that you don’t know about. You would see through it eventually, but in those few moments that you didn’t…

Any mistake now could be fatal. 

“She’s in federal custody right now,” Fitzgerald says. 

Dazai almost feels dizzy, hands falling from his lap to the bed to dig his nails into the sheets to steady himself. He knew this—he knew it in his heart when Twain mentioned the flash drive and pointed out the sirens but Dazai had still had hope that you managed to evade arrest, that you wouldn’t have been dragged down by his mistakes.

Fitzgerald is still talking and Dazai knows that he should be listening, but instead his mind racing, thoughts so quick and jumbled that he can hardly get them straight. If you’re in federal custody right now, the last thing you needed was to get out and hear news of Dazai turning against you. You’d be worn thin, stressed, alone. You don’t think clearly when you’re under a ton of stress, especially when people you love are at risk. You try to, but when it gets too much, you shut down like you did at the beach house and you can’t shut down with the Guild at your door and god knows what other enemies lurking in the shadow, preparing to strike.

If you’re in federal custody, then the chances that you’ll see through this is even lower because you’ll already not be thinking clearly. There’s a much higher chance that you don’t see through it, that you think the Guild tortured him until his mind broke and he turned against you. And considering your past with Nakahara Chuuya and his lover, it might be the only logical conclusion your brain comes to.

He can’t risk it. It’ll put you in danger—he’s done enough of that lately, but this time, your life really would be on the line.

Instead, he’ll put his on it. 

“No,” Dazai says suddenly, cutting Fitzgerald off mid sentence. The blonde looks at him curiously waiting for him to continue. “No. I don’t believe you—about her, about using her ability on me. I don’t believe any of it. Get out.”

Dazai doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to pretend to be blind with love—maybe he can convince Fitzgerald that he’s still under the effects of your ability, that might buy him a few days, but it won’t last forever. He doubts that the Guild will kill him if they want him to turn against you to batter you down, and they want him to do it willingly, so they’ll probably spend a few more days trying to convince him before they resort to making him turn on you through force. 

You just need to get to him before that happens.

Fitzgerald doesn’t look surprised by Dazai’s words, but he does look disappointed. He braces himself for the man to press the issue, but to Dazai’s relief, Fitzgerald stands to leave. Dazai needs time to think, time to formulate how exactly is the best way to go about this to buy as much time as possible.

“I figured that would be the case, months under an ability like that takes more than a few days of separation to be free of,” Fitzgerald tells him before he leaves. “Think on it, you could be very useful to our cause… and we could be useful to you too. I’ll be back for an answer.”

“Don’t come back anytime soon,” Dazai replies snidely as the door closes, pulling the blanket tighter around him and resting his head against the wall.

As soon as the door is closed, a heavy feeling settles over his chest and Dazai feels so alone that it makes him sick. He’s become so used to your presence in his life that every moment without you feels like his chest is being hollowed out. The room he’s in is cold and uncomfortable compared to the warmth of your apartment. He wants to be curled up in your bed, surrounded by your scent, wants to be watching some lame movie or forcing you to watch him play an even lamer video game. 

He misses you desperately, and his nails bite into the fabric of the blankets as he tries to ground himself, losing himself in the thoughts of you, praying that you come for him soon.

“Ah! Our resident convict has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Oh, Ace, it’s impressive, truly, how everyday you manage to become more stupid than the last. You must not have any brain cells left in that empty skull of yours… You’re not much unlike a protozoa honestly, ” Piano Man sighs whimsically. When Ace’s face twists in confusion, Piano Man gives him a sweet smile. “That’s a single-celled organism. Basic biology, I fear, thank you for proving my point so quickly.”

“She hasn’t been convicted, you dumb fuck,” Chuuya snaps. “And you sound way too pleased over the matter, should probably choose your tone more carefully considering it was you and your subordinate who got her arrested. Sounds a bit like, I don’t know, treason. Did you betray the Port Mafia, Ace?” 

Wow, you think, they came in hotter than you expected.

You don’t even bother to address Ace as you make your way to your place at Mori’s right side, taking a seat in the chair left empty for you. You don’t look at him until you’ve taken your seat, but even then he gives you no cues, violet eyes watching you listlessly as he waits for you to say something.

Once the circular table is fully seated, your gaze finally flits to Ace.

“Go on,” you say. “Answer Chuuya’s question.”

Ace’s face twists at your words. “That’s a ridiculous accusation,” he says, raising his chin. “That-”

“Is it?” you interrupt coolly. “You pride yourself on the use of your collars and their ability to control your subordinates. Either your collars are not quite as effective as you’ve so ardently claimed them to be or you’ve betrayed the Port Mafia. Which is it, Ace? Both will have consequences, naturally, one will just be more… final than the other.”

Unless there’s some otherworldly interference, Ace is going to die today.

He’s the reason you were arrested. His subordinates are notoriously fearful of him and his ability to kill them with just a passing thought once he has the collar around their necks. The chance of one of them acting on their own to try to kill you is slim to none. And you know that he knows you know he did it just from the amusement thinly veiled behind the outraged expression on his face.

He’s too smug.

Something’s not right.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if my efforts to deter disobedience have gone ineffective concerning one of my subordinates.” Ace waves his hand, lavender eyes meeting yours pointedly as he speaks his next words: “No need to fret, I’ve dealt with him accordingly.”

That… was not anticipated. You’re careful not to react to his words, gauging the reactions of the others in the room trying to figure out if this was something they all talked about while you were being held by the government, but Piano Man and Chuuya look just as appalled, even Kouyou hides her pursed lips behind her fan as she gives Mori a careful look.

Mori does not look surprised as the rest of his executives.

What did you do?

Chuuya is the first to speak, voice low, “You’ve what?”

“A betrayal of this magnitude is not something for an executive to handle alone,” Piano Man says, the airy tone of his long gone as he stares at Ace. “Especially the executive in charge of said traitor. You acted out of line—this should’ve been brought in front of us all before any action was taken.”

“Out of line?” Ace’s voice becomes more mocking now, clearly enjoying knowing something that Piano Man doesn’t after the snide comment. “Not at all, I acted on orders of the Boss.”

At once, the conference room goes quiet. You see Chuuya and Piano Man turn to look at Mori for the corner of your eye, but you keep your gaze trained on Ace instead and he keeps his on yours. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, eyes cool and taunting, the corner of his lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“It’s true.”

Mori offers no explanation—he doesn’t need to, he’s the Boss, but you know there’s something else going on here. He never liked Ace, spoke poorly of the man’s easily bought loyalties and undue arrogance. Only gave him the executive position for financial purposes after the Dragon’s Head Conflict left Yokohama in shambles. Let him stay because his arrogance makes him easily manipulated but always keeps him at arm’s length, ready to cut off at the first whiff of betrayal.

And now he’s what? Scheming with the man he’s despised for years against you? Is it punishment for everything that has happened with the two Yakuza syndicates and the Guild? Punishment for Dazai? 

You can’t understand it, you can’t.

You look at Mori from the corner of your eye, blood running hot and only barely able to keep the fury off of your face.

What are you planning?

Mori’s lips curve up as if he can hear your thoughts, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at you.

You’ll find out, little hime.

“What is Tachibana-kun’s opinion on the indictment?” Mori asks instead, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the table as he looks at you.

“He’s going to get the charges dropped,” you reply flatly, nails biting into the slacks you’d changed into before coming to the meeting, suddenly feeling far too cornered as you realize you have enemies around every corner—even within your own home. “This will be over within two weeks.”

“Hm.” Mori sounds more entertained than anything as he tilts his head to the side and studies you. “And the Guild? How do you plan to handle them, little hime? More importantly, that boy you’d been silly enough to allow the information that led to your imprisonment… I trust he’ll be properly handled?”

Putting you on blast in front of all of the executives… Kouyou is watching you carefully, Chuuya is stiff, Piano Man tense, and Ace, of course, is mildly amused. You feel like a circus monkey performing for the lot of them and you know it’s exactly what Mori wanted.

You’re sure not to let your irritation slip onto your face as you smile thinly and reply with: “The Guild will be taken care of by the end of the week. I fear that the boy is not the issue in this situation, Ace would be more suited to answer any questions regarding my imprisonment. Isn’t that right?” 

Ace’s smile tightens. “Not at all,” he says coldly. “What are you implying?”

“That it was your subordinate that had dealings with the Guild, of course,” you say with a sweet smile. “What else would I be implying?” 

“Right.”

“I mean, I do trust that you managed to get information out of him before killing him, right? We’ve all been trained to do that,” you add, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “You did get the information, didn’t you?”

“I would like to know how you plan to handle the Guild considering you’ve failed spectacularly up to this point,” Mori intervenes, preventing you from questioning Ace about the ‘subordinate’ that ‘betrayed the Port Mafia’. 

You give him a heavy side-eye, wondering what game he’s playing and why he’s protecting Ace of all people—he must have some plan in the works that involves the man, but what? What could he possibly be using Ace for that’s so important that it makes the cost of keeping a rat in his inner circle trivial? You’ve always struggled to understand the way Mori’s mind works, but never more than now.

You decide to be plain with your accusations now. You’re tired of playing coy; although you’re stuck in limbo now as you wait for Tolstoy to come through with the favor you’ve asked of him, you still feel like you could be doing more productive things to try to figure out how you’ll actually approach Fitzgerald to get Dazai back. 

“I don’t feel comfortable divulging that information in this setting,” you say simply, watching as Kouyou’s eyes widen just a bit, Chuuya and Piano Man share a look, and Ace stiffens as he prepares for a scathing comment, but a motion from Mori has them settling down. “Regardless, I think there are more important issues to discuss. Namely, the setbacks we now have to deal with on the political front because of my indictment. I can reach out to the politicians that I’m close enough with that the accusations won’t sway them, but I worry that we might’ve lost a lot of key swing votes in the upcoming bill going through the Diet.”

“We can’t let that bill pass,” Chuuya says tightly. 

Kouyou sighs airly as she fans her face. “I can reach out to my connections,” she offers. “I assume Lippmann will have significant influence as well. Between the two of us, we can hopefully compensate for the losses. Do you think the indictment will prevent you from ever returning to handle political affairs?”

You purse your lips. “I doubt I’ll be back at any government events anytime soon, but I’ll be able to get work done from behind the scenes. It’ll be harder, but not impossible.”

Kouyou hums as she nods, glancing back at Mori. “If this is all, I had a prior commitment with our friends in Tokyo… It would be best for me to not miss it considering the circumstances.”

“I also have business to handle,” you say, gaze cutting back to Mori. “If necessary, I can meet with you later to tell you about how I plan to handle the Guild.”

“It’s not necessary,” Mori says lightly. “You’re dismissed, I promised Elise-chan tea time anyway. I expect results this time, little hime… Successful ones.”

Your lips tighten. “Of course,” you reply tensely. “I hope by the time of our next meeting, the rat infestation will be handled. I’ve seen a few too many since I’ve been back at headquarters today, it’s unsightly.”

Ace bristles and looks to Mori like a child seeking their parents’ support. How ironic, you think bitterly, but you don’t give anyone time to respond to your words as you rise to your feet and leave the room, intent on getting back to your apartment as quickly as possible. You don’t even wait for Chuuya or Piano Man as you get into the elevator and press the button to close the doors as quickly as possible.

Your gaze is pinned on the cityscape as the elevator begins to go down to the first floor. The sun has crossed its point in the peak of the sky—it’s still midday, it’s been sixty-six hours since you were taken into custody, likely just as long as Dazai’s been captured by the Guild

Sixty-six hours.

The Guild is not an organization that usually stoops to torture. Of all of the organizations in the world’s shadows, the Guild is probably the one closest to the light—they take advantage of it by forcing its members into the public spotlight. It’s why they’ve done so well in Yokohama so far; they’ve used their political presence to force countries into giving them diplomatic immunity, essentially making them untouchable. 

You’re sure they have some degree of blood on their hands, everyone in this world does, but torturing a civilian of a foreign country would be a bold move—if it got out, and you would make sure it did, it would ruin their station… But then again, would they even care?

Fitzgerald was so desperate to get his hands on Atsushi for whatever reason—the bounty and now this… There might not be any length he wouldn’t be willing to go to in order to get his hands on the boy. And Dazai… he wouldn’t give up the information, you know it in your heart. You wish that he would if only so he could protect himself, you’d be able to pivot and readjust your plans, but he won’t, especially not after his spiels about being a burden and wanting to help.

What an idiot, you think desperately, ignoring the way your eyes suddenly sting as you make your way out of the main headquarters to head over to your own building. You’re not even fully processing everything that’s happening around you—you ignore the subordinates that greet you, don’t even hear Albatross calling your name, and when you get to your building, you don’t even notice the doorman sitting at the desk in your building. 

It’s not until you get back up to your apartment that you’re finally able to break down.

Physically and mentally drained from two days in custody and now Mori’s schemes, it only takes the sight of Dazai’s sweater tossed on the back of your couch and his backpack lying haphazardly on the ground next to it for you to crumble. You don’t even make it to the couch—your knees give in as soon as your fingers brush the soft material of his sweater. You hit the ground hard, back pressed to the back of the couch as you pull the sweater down to your knees and you cry.

It still smells like him—well, a mixture of you and him since he’s started using your bath soaps—and you miss him so bad that it makes your chest cave in. You muffle the ragged gasp you take in with the sweater and curl in on yourself; you miss him, you miss him so bad that it’s painful, so bad that regret weighs on you like the burden of the sky, so bad that you think you might die. You’ve felt pain like this before when Itou died, but Itou’s death had not been entirely in your control, not like how this was. 

You let this happen. The moment you let him into your life, you damned him.

You’ve been teetering on the edge of collapse for days, only sheer willpower and the thin shred of pride you had left prevented you from falling apart during your time in prison, but now there’s nothing left to keep you together. Any remaining willpower was obliterated the moment you walked into your apartment and saw his sweater and backpack exactly where he left them before fleeing because of your words; any remaining pride was destroyed by Mori and his schemes refusing you at least some semblance of justice for your own imprisonment. 

Now alone, faced with only the consequences of your own decisions as company, you’re forced to acknowledge the bitter truth: you may never see Dazai again.

You may have gotten him killed.

He may already be dead—spent his last moments alone and in pain, wondering if you were ever going to show up.

You try to convince yourself that Fitzgerald won’t kill him before trying to use him as a bargaining chip over you, but the thoughts are only shallow consolations because you can’t push away the image that’s been haunting you since the day you met him. His body cold and rotting after having been abandoned in one of the dumping grounds the underworld uses as a mass grave, forgotten and nameless, left for the rate to devour. You knew this would happen from the beginning, but you still allowed it.

You’ve never prayed before. 

You’ve long believed that if there was a god out there, it was a cruel one who took delight in suffering because what other god would allow people to suffer the way you have? 

What god would allow an eight year old girl to sit amongst corpses for hours only to be saved by a man who would drag her down a path so dark that her blood would rot black and her soul would be so far beyond salvation before she was even old enough to attend secondary school? 

What god would show someone love only to rip it away before his very eyes in the most brutal way possible? 

What god would dangle the ‘what ifs’ right in front of your face just to taunt you knowing that the moment you let yourself indulge them, you would be reminded exactly why they should’ve remained ‘what ifs’?

You’ve never prayed before, but now, you find yourself crying to any that might listen to you because you don’t know what else to do. There’s no guarantee that your plan will work and you can’t give Fitzgerald what he wants, you can’t. So instead, you cry, you beg, you plead, you bargain. You don’t know what divine being might be out there, but for the first time in your life, you hope that there is one, because you’ve never saved a single person in your life. You got Itou killed, you got Chuuya’s lover killed, countless men on the warfront who were banking on your ability fix their minds, at this point, you’re sure that even the loss of your family and village was somehow blood on your hands—everywhere you’ve been, ruin and death have followed you, and this will be no different.

You won’t be able to save him, just like you’ve never been able to save anyone else before. Your only hope lies in the hands of the very beings that have designed this moment and every other misfortune of yours before this. It’s a sick joke, you think, but still, you pray. You cry, and beg, and plead, and bargain. You ask them to bring him back to you, you tell them that he’s good and that he never belonged in this life; you promise that if they bring him back to you, you’ll do what you should’ve done from the very beginning. 

You swear it.

You don’t know how long you stay on your floor with his sweater pressed to your chest—could have been minutes or hours, you don’t even hear the elevator arriving at your floor, don’t notice someone is in the room with you until you feel fingers brush your shoulder. You stiffen and futilely try to dry your eyes, lifting your gaze to figure out who had entered your apartment without calling up first. There’s only a handful of people it might be and-

And for just a split second, you think that it might be Dazai.

It’s not, of course, your eyes meet the familiar ones of Klaus’s, the expression he wears is full of guilt, regretful, and just as your lips part to ask him what he wants, he whispers: “I’m sorry I couldn’t find him. I really did try.”

You’ve only seen Klaus cry twice before. Once, two weeks after you took him in when he realized he was finally free of the fighting rings he’d been forced to compete in since his ability manifested. And a second time after he failed his first mission, tossed back into a memory that had him curling on the ground begging you not to send him back. Now, he doesn’t cry, but his throat spasms and his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

“I know you did, Klaus,” you say, voice too raspy for your liking

“... I left him alive,” Klaus tells you after a few moments. Before you can ask what he’s talking about, he continues, “Ui. I thought you might want to be the one to deal with him.”

At once, any exhaustion that might’ve been plaguing you disappears, the ice that spreads through your veins promises only one thing.

“Bring me to him.”

“It has been two days since little miss princess was released from prison, how’s that make you feel?” 

Dazai stares blankly at Twain, who looks far too pleased as he tilts his chair back and watches him for a reaction. Dazai wishes that he was closer so that he could kick the chair back and watch him go sprawling, but even if he was closer, his body feels rooted to the bed he’s sitting on. Dazai has alway had a quick brain, but now it’s slow as Twain’s words echo through his head on repeat and he starts to understand the implications of them, unable to accept them as truth.

“Guess she doesn’t care about you as much as ya thought she did.” Twain shrugs like it's all some big joke, grin crooked. “Hasn’t even bothered to reach out to ask us about you. Port Mafia’s been active too, guess she just has more important things to deal with than some kid she played around with for a few months. Francis seems more bothered by it than I thought he would. I think he really thought she’d really fight for you—for your sake.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, gaze sliding from Twain to stare at the wall in front of him. It’s been a long four days in Guild custody. He’s hardly had a moment to himself, and he’s been careful to keep up the act of the lovesick fool who refuses to see things as they ‘are,’ but he’s tired and lonely and he misses you. It’s all wearing him out. 

He can keep up the act—if it means protecting you, he could do this forever—he’s put on masks and fronts for people his whole life, this is nothing compared to all of that… it’s just that it’s harder when he’s had a taste of life with someone who he doesn’t need to put up masks for. It’s harder when he wants nothing more than to just be back in your apartment, basking in your presence. It makes him dizzy with longing and it makes him careless. 

And… he thinks Twain’s words are hitting him a lot harder than they should be. 

“I’m not all too surprised though,” Twain continues absently, waving his hands around. “You’re not anything special, and I heard her boy Tolstoy’s back in town. She doesn’t need you to entertain her anymore now that he’s around.”

For a second, Dazai can see the dams cracking. All of the pent up emotions that have been building the past few days batter the splintering walls holding them back, and Dazai can only barely bring himself to try to reinforce them because now’s not the time for this. But every time he manages to fortify one section of the crumbling dam, another starts to collapse. 

It can’t be true. It can’t be—Dazai knows this, in his heart, he knows it—what you had with him… it was special. It was. (Wasn’t it?) The way you looked at him, no one could look at someone that way and not mean it. No one could speak the words you did and not mean them. There must be something else going on, you must be planning something—you’re not going to rush headfirst into a trap, not when it could end with Dazai’s life in danger and especially not with your past with the Serpent’s Tongue, but…

… but Twain’s mention of Tolstoy rattles Dazai badly. You’ve talked about Tolstoy before to him, and it was always with a certain fondness that made Dazai uneasy, and for a second, Dazai thinks it might be possible that you could just be cutting your losses with him and moving on. Because Twain is right, Dazai is nothing special, and it’s not like the two of you ended off on a good note before his capture—you were mad at him, he was cruel to you, he blamed you for all of this even though he forced it onto you. 

Dazai wouldn’t even really be able to blame you for not coming for him after that; for months, he’s been forcing your hand but when he felt backed into a corner, he threw it all in your face. 

Not even to mention that it might not even be as simple as you coming to save Dazai—there were other factors at play too, the Port Mafia being the biggest. You’re an executive, you can’t just throw everything away to come rescue him when he got himself into this situation after you explicitly warned him that this would happen. 

If you had to choose between him and the Mafia… could he really be certain that you would choose him in that scenario? He wants to say yes, he does, but the word feels weighted and bitter on his tongue, like he knows it’s not quite so cut and dry.

Realistically, you might not come for him. Even if Twain is wrong and it’s not a matter of whether you care about him enough to come for him, there are too many variables that could prevent you from coming for him… but Twain might not be wrong. 

“Mark,” Fitzgerald’s familiar voice chides as the man steps into the room Dazai is staying in. He doesn’t even hear the sigh and comment that Twain lets out before leaving because he’s too lost in his own thoughts.

Dazai has never felt so entirely out of control of a situation like this before—he’s always been so careful and meticulous in his interactions with people and his surroundings because he likes being able to predict how people will act around him, it makes it easier for him to figure out how he should act. He’s even had a good hold on himself, learned how to school his emotions and convert ones he doesn’t like into ones that are easier for him to manage. But everything about this has just been so impossible for him to get a handle on, he’s tried in every way that he could, but the realization of the fact that you might not be coming for him is sending him over the edge 

“I wanted to break the news to you myself,” Fitzgerald says and Dazai feels bitter and angry about the sympathy in his voice, wants to spit at him. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, much less his, but he only finds himself staring listlessly at the man instead. “I waited a few days to see if she would reach out, but she never did… I’m afraid I can’t keep waiting anymore, I need to move on with the next stage of my plan.”

This is it, Dazai thinks distantly—now is when they’ll finally switch from persuasion to force. He thought he would have a bit longer to figure out how he would proceed and now he can’t even get himself thinking straight to try to figure out how to evade this. His thoughts are scattered and distant and so many different and unfamiliar emotions are battering him from every angle; he can hardly pay attention as the man across from him speaks. 

“I want you to cooperate willingly,” the Guild leader continues, but his words are going in one ear out the other. “... don’t have to worry about them targeting you for betrayal. We have enough resources to shield you from the Port Mafia. Additionally-”

“No,” Dazai says quietly—the refusal slips out before he can even process it.

Fitzgerald pauses. “No?” 

“No,” he reiterates, voice more strained, the words tumbling from his lips. “No, I don’t need your protection. I’m not going to cooperate. I won’t betray her—not for anyone, but especially not you. She’ll come. I know it.”

Something changes in Fitzgerald’s expression at Dazai’s words; it becomes twisted for just a second, but then it softens, his lips curl up into a faint smile. One that’s almost fond, but Dazai can’t understand why for the life of him. 

“I see, so even knowing all of this and realizing that she might not be coming for you, you still choose to stand at her side,” he murmurs. He doesn’t try to persuade Dazai like he thought he would. “There are not many who are able to see the worst of someone and still make that choice… I’ve only met one other… You remind me much of her.”

“She chooses me too,” Dazai says. He thinks, for a second, that he’s only saying it to scare Fitzgerald into realizing that you’ll come for him, but as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows that it’s true. That he believes it. He believes you’ll choose him, he believes you’ll come for him no matter what the cost might be. Even after everything that happened the other day, even knowing that you’ve been free for days and haven’t made any moves to rescue him yet, his faith in you hasn’t wavered. “She’ll come for me, and you’ll regret this.”

Fitzgerald exhales as he rises to his feet, gaze lingering on Dazai for just a moment before he tells him, “For your sake, I hope your faith is not misplaced.”

“The human psyche is unbearably fragile. It’s one of the first conclusions I came to during my studies,” you say absently, sitting back in your chair. “I don’t have a combative ability. I can’t control any elemental force and I don’t have a superhuman body. I can’t summon entities to fight on my behalf and I certainly can’t shapeshift. Chuuya spent a lot of time studying physics to fine tune his power, my path laid in psychology. You see, my ability isn’t flashy or showy like many others, but it is an ability nonetheless, and even the weakest abilities can become dangerous in the right hands.”

Ui Koutarou stares up at you from the corner that he’s curled up in, his pupils are blown wide and his skin is pale and sweaty. You don’t know if he’s looking through you or at you, but you suppose it doesn’t matter.

“Usually, conditioning a human mind to have automatic responses to particular stimuli can take months, but I’ve learned to utilize my ability in a way that can speed up that process from months to days,” you explain, watching carefully as you flick the lighter in your hands. “You’ve realized that, of course, I’ve spent the past two days here rewiring your brain to react to things the way I want it to. You can’t control the way your heart starts racing when you see this flame, right? I can see the way your breath is short, your pupils dilated. You don’t have any reason to be scared of it, it’s harmless, but you’re still terrified. Why?” 

He doesn’t answer, of course, you didn’t say the word, but when you rise to your feet and take a step forward, he scrambles back impossibly further, shrinking into the corner. Your lips curve up as you flick the lighter off and take a seat, watching the way he immediately begins to relax again. 

“My ability isn’t mind control, I fear if it was, my life would be much more simple,” you sigh, looking up at the ceiling momentarily before lowering your gaze back down to him. “I can induce emotions and states in the human brain—the weak-minded naturally are much easier than the strong-willed, but I can make both bend to my will, it’s just a matter of how much effort I’m willing to put into it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you observe him and then pull a pen from your pocket, tossing it in his general direction. You can see the way his chest visibly stutters at the sight of it, breath ceasing, and then he darts to the opposite side of the room. In his desperate flee, his foot brushes the pen and you smile lightly as you activate your ability, watching the way he immediately hits the ground, screaming his throat raw as he curls into a ball. After deactivating your ability, you wait a few seconds for him to calm down before continuing. 

“The human psyche is fragile, but the brain is very malleable. As soon as it recognizes that a certain action will always bear a negative consequence, it will adapt and do everything it can to prevent you from taking that action to avoid the negative consequences.” You lean forward, looking down at him. “It’s recognized now to associate fear with a flame and a pen. You can’t control the way that the sight of either of these two objects make you react—it’s reflexive because your brain has already taken the necessary steps to ensure that you don’t get close enough to either to trigger the consequence that comes along with touching it.”

The flame is a necessary step. It’s easier to force the brain to associate fear with something that is inherently dangerous, and you needed to see how long it might take for you to move on to something that’s not inherently dangerous. It took three hours of conditioning to make his brain adapt enough to have reflexive responses to the sight of fire.

Then you moved onto a pen, because you thought it was ironic for a journalist to fear the same thing he uses to complete his job. That took six hours. 

“When you stayed away from the two objects, I rewarded you,” you explain with a thin smile. “It must’ve been so relieving… all of the pleasant emotions you felt after nearly five days of being locked up here. Happiness, hope, gratitude. I’m sure it was confusing too, because you didn’t know why you felt that way but you were so quick to bask in them that it didn’t matter.”

Ui continues to watch you, so you continue speaking. You think you’re talking more to yourself than to him, you don’t even know if he’s capable of processing your words at this point, but you need to keep yourself busy while you wait.

“When you touched the objects, I punished you,” you continue. “Guilt, sadness, but my favorite is fear. It’s the easiest emotion to induce in someone, it’s not one that I have to actively keep applied because the human mind spirals once it has a taste of it. They call it the mind killer.”

The last sentence tastes bitter on your tongue. It reminds you of Dazai.

“I did the same thing with your ability to speak… Speaking is a voluntary action, it’s a bit different than conditioning reflexive responses, but it still worked. Now, you can’t speak until I say the word, right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“Yes,” he rasps, voice wet and shaky. “You’re right.”

“I even made sure that no one else could trigger it. I brought Klaus in here and had him order you to speak. Every time you listened to his order, I punished you. Every time you listened to mine, I rewarded you. Do you remember that?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“I remember,” he replies. “I remember.”

“Dazai Osamu was captured by the Guild because you worked alongside them to have me arrested. Isn’t that right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

Your voice is colder this time as you say: “Speak.”

“I didn’t mean for him to get kidnapped.” He has the nerve to sound like he’s about to cry. “None of my students, I didn’t mean for it-”

“That’s not what I asked. Speak.”

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Yes, he got kidnapped because of me.”

“That’s right,” you agree, “and he might die because of you too. Was it worth it?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“No,” he whispers. “No, it wasn’t worth it.”

“I know,” you say, more to yourself than him. “But I suppose we’ve all done things that had consequences that weren’t worth it.”

You sigh, glancing to the side to see a figure waiting outside the cell. Chuuya’s face is twisted in displeasure, an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“If it were up to me, I would let you live,” you admit. “A journalist too scared to ever pick up the pen again… the man trying to bring down the Port Mafia little more than a puppet for one of its executives… an ironic fate, possibly one worse than death.” 

You rise to your feet and walk to the door of the cell, leaving the room. Before you leave, you look over your shoulder and say:

“Luckily, your fate is not up to me.”

You leave the cell and close the door behind you, looking up to meet Chuuya’s familiar eyes, cool and disapproving.

“Don’t you think you might be going too far?” he asks quietly.

“Says the man who leveled an entire ward,” you reply coldly and he winces at the reminder. “I don’t want to hear anything from you about ‘too far’. If anything, I haven’t gone far enough.”

Chuuya sighs, but he doesn’t press the matter. 

“You should get some rest,” he finally says. “You’ve pretty much been up for two days straight, and I know you didn’t sleep while locked up.”

You click your tongue and look away. “I slept yesterday.”

“For an hour and a half,” Chuuya replies dryly. “Torturing the fuckin’ journalist isn’t going to bring Dazai back-”

“No, but it makes me feel better,” you interrupt, gaze sharpening. 

“Does it?”

“It does, in fact,” you say, giving him a thin smile, “more than you could ever believe.”

Chuuya lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. “I’m worried about you,” he says, voice tight. “I-”

“I don’t care, Chuuya,” you say, watching as Chuuya’s face twists in frustration. “I don’t need your concern. I need Osamu back and until he is-”

“This isn’t going to bring him back, you-”

“I don’t care!” You don’t even realize you’ve raised your voice, don’t even register your own movements as your hands dart out to shove Chuuya back hard. He only stumbles a few steps, but he gives you a pointed look. Suddenly, you want to cry again and your voice wobbles as you repeat, “I don’t care.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Torturing Ui Koutarou isn’t going to do anything to help Dazai. The man is useless, gave information to the Guild that he shouldn’t have, but has no idea their whereabouts or even who he spoke to. And it’s not making you feel better like you claim it is, the sick bit of glee you may feel watching the journalist-turned-husk dissipates quickly whenever the thought of Dazai crosses your mind.

The Guild hasn’t even reached out to you.

You don’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad sign—probably a bad one. If they were trying to use him as leverage over you and the Port Mafia, then they would’ve done that by now. They could be waiting for you to reach out, it would give them the advantage in negotiations, but you can’t reach out before you have something to negotiate with. 

But the longer you wait… they’ll use it against Dazai. They’ll tell him you don’t care to come after him. They’ll tell him you’ve been out of prison for two days, yet you haven’t bothered to reach out to the Guild to get him back. They’ll make him feel worthless and Dazai already has such a poor perception of himself that you fear he’ll believe it, but you can’t do anything yet.

Not yet, but soon. 

Soon.

“The Diet postponed the military bill,” Chuuya says, changing the subject. Your gaze snaps back over to him. “Ane-san just got word from one of her friends in the House of Councillors. They pushed it two weeks out.”

You grimace instantly, shaking your head. “They want to see what happens with the indictment. If it gets dropped or goes to trial. If it goes to trial, we’ll lose more swing votes.”

“I asked Piano Man if he could talk to Tachibana, see what’s going on with getting the charges dropped, I know you have a lot on you right now, but I figured you’d want to know this,” Chuuya murmurs apologetically, squeezing your wrist.

Dazai is gone. The Guild is at your doorstep. There are countless indictments that you’re not sure are going to get dropped. The military bill is still looming over you. God, it’s never ending. You’re so tired.

“I’m glad you told me,” you finally tell him, but your voice is strained. “I’ll figure something out about the bill if the worst case scenario happens.”

Chuuya’s lips part like he’s about to speak, but he pauses suddenly, eyes flickering behind you. A dreadful feeling suddenly hangs over you as you turn around to face none other than Mori—the man never comes to the torture rooms himself so you know he must be looking for someone and that someone is very likely you.

Chuuya takes off his hat and lowers his head. You usually would follow suit but you don’t this time, keeping your chin high as you stare at Mori. His lips only curve up in response to your lack of respect, much to your displeasure.

“Chuuya-kun, may I?” Mori hums, doesn’t have to specify what he wants because Chuuya knows, nodding and excusing himself so Mori can speak to you alone.

His eyes slide away from you to the cell that holds Ui Koutarou. You watch as he looks between the pen on the ground and the way the man is as far away from it as possible. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, lifting his fingers to the chest pocket of his lab coat, pulling out the pen he always has stashed in there before tossing it at him. Ui is unable to dodge it fast enough, doesn’t realize what’s happening until too late.

The moment the pen touches his body, you activate your ability, watching him let out another blood curdling scream before focusing your attention back on Mori, who looks oddly pleased by what he’s found.

“Two days of work?” he questions.

“A little over.”

“How impressive,” he murmurs—for the first time, he says it without the mocking lilt that usually accompanies it and your throat swells, eyes flickering away from him to the wall. 

You know that he’s probably only saying it to try to ease your anger at him, but you can’t help the way it makes you feel after years of trying to get him to say those very words to you and mean them.

“Did you know?” you finally ask him, voice too hoarse for your liking.

“Did I know what?” Mori asks, raising his eyebrows to look down at you with sharp eyes that tell you he knows exactly what you’re asking but isn’t going to make this easy for you.

“Did you know that Ace was setting me up? Was it punishment?” Your nails dig deep into your palms as you wait for a response, so much so that you can feel the blood trickling between your fingers. “Did you?” 

“Of course not, I would never risk our political position so recklessly. Especially with the military bill in the Diet,” Mori scoffs, looking away for a moment before glancing back down at you. “Nor would I risk you so recklessly. You should know that by now, little hime.”

You avert your gaze, shaking your head. He’s only saying this to appease you, you know it, you don’t know why you’re still falling for it. 

“I don’t know anything that goes on in your mind,” you bite back, grateful that your voice is steadier than how you feel. “Why isn’t he being punished then? He betrayed the Port Mafia.”

“I still have something I need him to do,” Mori replies easily, lips curving up into a smile that unsettles you. “... Don’t fret, my dear, when the time comes, you can be the one to handle his execution.”

You click your tongue sharply. “It better be soon.”

You can only define the smile on his face as sinister, and you almost regret your words when he replies, “It will be,” because you don’t know what exactly he has planned for him to be smiling like that.

Before you can interrogate him on what the hell he’s even talking about, Klaus comes stumbling down the steps with wide eyes and an excited expression on his face. He pauses when he sees Mori, gaze darting between the two of you.

“I’ll speak to you later, little hime,” Mori says dismissively—you wonder what he came down here for, he wouldn’t have come to speak to you without some sort of agenda and you don’t know what he would have achieved from this conversation beyond unnerving you. “... Keep up the good work.”

Your throat tightens as he turns to leave, gliding past Klaus who awkwardly lowers his head in respect as he walks by. As soon as he’s out of sight, Klaus turns to you, lips spreading in a toothy smile. 

“Tolstoy is here.”

Your eyes widen instantly. “Take me to him.”

You thought he would be a bit longer. Your chest is tight with anticipation as you follow Klaus to another level in the main headquarters. You were expecting to have to wait at least another day or two for him to complete the favor you asked for him and another thirteen hours for him to fly from New York City to Yokohama. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Tolstoy has always exceeded your expectations, but still… you hadn’t dared hope.

The man is leaning outside the door Klaus leads you to, lips curved up in a familiar smile, blue eyes glittering playfully as soon as he catches sight of you.  

“Princess,” he greets, holding his hand out for you to place yours in. You roll your eyes fondly as the blonde lifts your hand to his lips to ghost a kiss against your knuckles. He winks at you. “She’s all yours.”

You thank him quietly before pushing open the door to enter the conference room in front of you. The woman waiting inside is prim and elegant, wearing a long dress with jewels decorating her neck and wrists. Her expression is cool and closed off at first glance, but you can see the glassiness of her eyes and the way her thin fingers tremble in her lap.

You give the woman a soft smile as you approach, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in yours. You make sure your expression is gentle and genuine as you look up at her, watching as your ability instantly goes to work when her fingers stop trembling and her own expression softens as she looks down at you.

“Hi, Zelda,” you greet, voice sweet and honeyed. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m a friend.”

When Zelda Fitzgerald lets out a soft breath of relief, the tenseness in her shoulders easing, you know that she’s made the fatal mistake of believing you and your smile becomes a bit more authentic. 

Finally, you can make your move. 

“Come, let’s go somewhere more comfortable. We have a lot to talk about.”

[sheerfreesia007]

Spoil Me

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Word count: 6,074

Content warnings: Arranged Marriage, Fluff, suggestive

Summary: You and Seungmin have been committed to an arranged marriage together since before either one of you were born. When the two of you finally tie the knot it takes a surprisingly short amount of time to grow comfortable with each other. But Seungmin finds that even though he’s been living on his own for years now he rather likes it when you spoil him.

The soft clinking of silverware is the background noise of your dinner as you sit in the cozy family run restaurant cutting a piece of chicken before raising it to your mouth. Slowly chewing your food your eyes dart over to your dining companion and you can’t help but let your eyes dart over his stoic features. As your eyes move along him you notice how much he’s changed over the years since you’ve known him and you can’t help but feel your heart stutter in your chest. His dark black hair is styled in a side part and there is a section of his hair falling over his eyes as he looked down at his plate while he cut into his dinner, it made your fingers itch to reach across the table and brush it out of his eyes. He was dressed in a clean white pressed button up shirt that he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows with a dark tie that complimented his skin tone perfectly, the simplicity of his attire made your stomach heat with desire for him. 

Every Friday night ever since you were a teenager you had a standing dinner date with Kim Seungmin, your betrothed. The two of you were committed to an arranged marriage that had been set up by both of your grandfathers years ago before either one of you had been born. It was a simple affair arranged by two best friends who had only wanted to see their families connected in a way that would last for generations. When you had been younger and just introduced to the idea of having your husband already picked out for you it had rubbed you the wrong way and made you feel stifled that you couldn’t make that choice on your own. But as your mothers had coordinated meetings between the two of you, your feelings on the matter had slowly morphed into one of understanding and then further into total acceptance of your fate.

Kim Seungmin was ever the perfect gentleman whenever he was around you. Always so polite and making sure that you were alright in every instance. He may be more on the quieter side, almost aloof and distant, but that was because he was so focused on his role in his family’s company. He was placed in a powerful position in the company and was in charge of a large department within the company. It was a position of pride for him and he took his role very seriously, which is why he was so business minded. 

While he was so stoic and solemn you always made up for that with your boisterous urge to talk, and at times you thought that you got on his nerves with your penchant for being a chatterbox he never actually voiced that or made you feel insecure about it. Just like now when you feel the itch in your throat to fill the air with words you bite your tongue trying to curb the desire. You just loved talking to him and telling him about things in your day while learning everything about him, every little detail that you were able to pull from him made your heart swell with affection for him. Because he was so quiet it was almost like a game to you to be able to learn a new detail about him and his life before the two of you tied the knot.

“So do you have any preferences for flowers or colors for the wedding scheme?” you asked curiously as you cut another piece of chicken on your plate. Your eyes darted up to see him lift his head as his eyebrows furrowed softly before shaking his head.

“No, I trust that you have an idea of how you’d like our wedding to look.” he said softly and you smiled brightly at him before nodding your head.

“Yes, but I don’t want it to just be all my ideas. If you have any preferences, please let me know. It’s our wedding not just mine.” you said earnestly and Seungmin blinked at you for a quiet moment before his neck flushed slightly at your emphasis on the word our. He quickly shook his head before ducking it back down towards his plate making you smile softly at his awkward gestures.

“No, I don’t have any preferences. I know you’ll do a good job no matter what you choose. You’re better at being in charge of those things.” he said softly and you nearly preened with his soft spoken praise. 

“Thank you.” you said happily and watched as Seungmin nodded his head quickly at you as his flush reached further up his neck to his cheeks. You grinned affectionately at him before biting into your food and chewing slowly, ever since your teenage years you knew you had some sort of affect on Seungmin he had never been that good at hiding his reactions to you even though he refused to voice his feelings for you. And you lived to see him affected by you, you had once gotten him so flustered that he had blushed as red as a tomato and had stumbled over his words. But while you loved affecting him in this way you knew that it made him feel awkward and uncomfortable so you didn’t push his boundaries too much or too often.

“Do you need anything from me for the wedding? Do we need to adjust the budget for the wedding?” he asked suddenly as he lifted his head slightly and his eyes found yours that were already looking back at him causing him to flush slightly more under your attention.

“No, we're still well within budget for the wedding. Right now I’m working with the wedding planner to run through the schedule with all the vendors once more before it’s all locked in. Your mother has been a huge help, she’s been able to keep me focused on task with all of the things I have to keep track of. I’ll have to send her something to show my gratitude for all her help lately.” you begin to ramble to him and Seungmin smiles softly as he nods his head at your words.

“You always were thoughtful when it came to other people’s help.” he said softly and you suddenly come to halt in your words as you blink at him with wide eyes. Seungmin furrows his brow slightly at your sudden stop before looking over to you again. “What?” he asked softly, you could see the worry starting to cloud his face as he watched you stare at him stunned.

“I just didn’t think you’d notice something like that about me.” you said softly as a blush creeps up your neck at his perceptive nature before you grin softly to yourself and begin cutting another piece of chicken for yourself.

“I’m not that clueless.” Seungmin gripes out softly and you burst out into surprised laughter at his words. You shake your head as laughter falls from your lips and your eyes crinkle with delight at his indignation while your hand comes up to wave in front of your face. Seungmin sits across from you, eyeing you quietly with a raised eyebrow before you slowly calm yourself.

“You’re the least clueless person I know.” you tell him honestly before grinning softly at him with affection. “But you’re so business minded and focused that I’m surprised you noticed something as trivial about me as me being thoughtful to others.” you explain to him kindly and he frowns softly at your confession.

“I always notice that stuff about you.” he says matter of factly and your heart stutters in your chest at his admission before you feel your stomach start to flutter with butterflies. You are so hopelessly in love with this man and have been ever since you came to terms with your arranged marriage, over the years your love and affection for him has grown into a soft warming love that fills you with some much happiness. Seungmin isn’t often affectionate with you but when he does have those rare moments you cherish them as if you’ll never have them again.

“What else do you notice about me?” you ask slightly breathless and Seungmin’s eyes focus sharply on your mouth for a second before darting up to your eyes causing your butterflies to begin fluttering like crazy. But he just shakes his head as his lips pull to the side in a lopsided smirk as his eyes sparkle at you knowingly.

“You’re teasing me.” he says softly and you adamantly shake your head at him.

“I’m not. I’m curious to see what you notice about me.” you insist but he shakes his head some more and you know he won’t answer you. Feeling slightly dejected you nod your head before shrugging your shoulders slightly trying to come off as unbothered by his side step of the question. You are so desperate and eager for any glimpse of affection from him that you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from begging him. “What kind of gift do you think your mother would enjoy?” You ask then effectively steering the conversation away from yourself. You like talking with Seungmin but you know that he is a stoic person who doesn’t like to show much emotion. You’ve known this your whole life after meeting him for the first time, why should it bother you now that he won’t share how he views you? You don’t notice Seungmin’s sharp eyes watching you quietly as he takes in your now more subdued attitude change, his lips twisting on his face in indecisiveness for a moment before sighing softly to himself.

*-*-*-*

The morning of the wedding comes all too quickly for Seungmin and he finds himself being swept up into the chaos of getting ready for the big day. This day has been coming for a long time and he knows that you’ve been hard at work planning it and making sure that it all went according to plan. Oftentimes during your Friday night dinners the past couple of weeks you would grow quiet to the point that he would worry about you. Your quiet was something completely out of the norm for him to experience, he was usually so used to you filling the air with chatter. But recently you had grown subdued and quiet not voicing much about your plans and work, he had realized that he had come to miss your nonstop chatter.

He wonders idly how you’re managing with the stress of your wedding day since he knows it’s much more stressful for the bride. He hopes that you’re able to find some moments of quiet and peace during your morning to enjoy it. From what he had observed his mother talking about with his father about the wedding during family dinners you had taken on all of the tasks of finding appropriate vendors for every aspect of the wedding and had only delegated certain tasks to the wedding planner. His mother had often worried that you were taking on too much of the work while actually working at your corporate position. Seungmin was reminded of that one dinner where you had asked him what he would prefer to have at your wedding and wondered quietly if that had been your quiet request for help from him.

Sighing softly, Seungmin focused his eyes on his mother as she stepped in front of him and began to slip his russet orange tie, paired nicely with his midnight blue tuxedo, around his neck before expertly tying it in an elaborate knot. When she slid it higher up his chest to lay perfectly under his collar she looked up at him with a beaming smile on her face. Her make up was done perfectly to showcase her beauty and he wondered what make up look you had chosen for the day. He knew whatever you had chosen would only highlight your beauty and make you stand out as the most beautiful woman in attendance. You were always so well poised and perfectly put together that it amazed him whenever you broke away from that perfectly curated image, he loved when he would get to see those little glimpses into your character. It made him feel closer to you as if you were opening up to him and allowing him to see behind the mask that you erected for the public eye.

The two of you were always expected to represent your family in such a perfect way that oftentimes it would seem almost statuesque. But you always managed to pull him back from that mind numbing headspace that he would often fall into whenever he was thrust into the public, it was usually just you scrunching your nose at him playfully or winking at him teasingly. Or even that habit you have of needing to fill the quiet with words, it had always been a habit of yours and an almost urge that you couldn’t stop even when you were kids. Every once in a while it would be a bit too overwhelming for him but oftentimes he enjoyed your chatter, your voice was so pleasant to listen to and normally would drive away any of his frustrations from the day or any of the worries that he had. He had come to expect to listen to your voice whenever you were together and the few times that you were quiet were when he worried about you.

“You look so handsome.” his mother said softly as her hand came to brush some of his hair out of his eyes.

“Thank you.” he answered softly before smiling at her. “How is she? Have you gone to see her?” he asked quietly and blushed softly when his mother’s smile widened on her face. 

“She’s a little stressed but she’s managing just fine. I think once it all starts happening then she’ll be able to relax and enjoy herself. It’s all turned out so beautiful.” his mother told him. Seungmin frowned softly at her words, his worry starting to rise for you. “Don’t worry, once she sees you she’ll be able to enjoy it all.” she reassured him with a soft pat of her hand to his bicep. Seungmin took a breath and slowly exhaled it while puffing out his cheeks and his mother smiled softly at him.

*-*-*-*

His mother had been right, everything has turned out beautiful. Seungmin stands at the altar with his best friend Jeongin standing next to him as they wait for your entrance. Seungmin can’t help but look around at all the decorations that hung around the inside of the church. There’s flowers in a pretty color scheme of russet orange, dark blue with light browns and creamy whites that manage to tie in the fall themed wedding that you had planned. There’s even denim blue and russet orange gauzy material draped along the pews in pretty loops and bows that catch his attention. It’s all done so simply that he can’t help but feel calmed by it all.

As the music suddenly picks up his eyes dart towards the end of the long aisle and his breath stutters in his lungs when he spots you. You’re absolutely beaming in a pretty long sleeved lace wedding gown that accentuates your body and leaves his heart racing. You’re not showing much skin besides at your collar bones where the neckline of your dress dips down just below them, but just that peek of skin has his breath coming out in soft pants and makes his heart climb up his throat. Jeongin nudges him and Seungmin clears his throat softly before slightly shaking his head. You duck your head as a pretty blush blossoms on your face while your eyes sparkle with delight at catching his reaction to your appearance.

When you finally reach him at the altar he bows deeply to your father before accepting your hand from him and tucking you into his side quickly before guiding you to where the priest is waiting for the two of you. The ceremony rushes past him in a blur of movement and tradition until the vows are ready to be read, panic suddenly consumes him and he looks panicked at Jeongin who’s standing next to him with a slightly bored look on his face. He forgot to write out his vows. Turning to you he grips your hands gently in his and feels the panic and regret start to rise up inside him like bile that’s waiting to spew from his mouth.

But as the panic is starting to take control of his body there’s something slipped into his hands and he looks down to see you smiling softly at him before winking cheekily at him. He takes the slip of paper that you had slid into his hand and turns it over to see a few sweet lines written in your neat handwriting and relieved twinged guilt grips him as his eyes dart up to your own. You had written out vows for him already knowing that he would be too distracted by his work to remember to do this. Guilt grips him tightly in silence and he promises to do something nice for you in return.

You nod once and he begins to recite the soft words that you had written out for him, the words soft sweet affirmations that he’d be true to you without any doubt in his heart. They were words that he could see himself actually confessing to you if he had remembered to write out his own vows, but once again you were being thoughtful and taking care of him. He was surprised by how well you knew him to be able to write something in his own voice and he’s gripped once more with guilt of not knowing you as well as you know him.

His eyes darted to you periodically as he recited the vows and watched as you smiled sweetly as your eyes slid closed letting yourself listen to the words without any distractions. He wondered if you were trying to imagine that he had written these words himself or if you just wanted to hear the soft words in his voice. And when he finished reciting the vows he could feel his heart stutter in his chest with affection for your thoughtful nature, he didn’t realize he was going to move until he lunged forward and cupped your face before pressing his lips to yours causing you to gasp loudly as the guests all gasped as well at his bold move. When he let you go and pulled away you were blinking up at him owlishly for a few quiet moments with your lips still pursed causing him to smirk softly at you before your face broke out into a dazzling smile.

After the reproving stare from the priest, which had caused you both to chuckle softly at Seungmin’s actions, it was time for your vows and Seungmin couldn’t help but mirror your action of closing his eyes and listening to your sweet voice promise to always uphold him above all else in your heart, mind, body and soul. Seungmin had felt the truth within every word that you spoke in your vows and while he knew that he wasn’t the most romantic man he silently vowed to always take care of you and cherish you.

Once everything was done and over and the priest had allowed him to kiss you after pronouncing you husband and wife, Seungmin couldn’t help himself. The first kiss he had stolen but this one was deliberate and he boldly slipped his hand into your hair to tilt your head to the side as his mouth captured yours once more. The first taste he had gotten wasn’t enough for him and he hummed softly against your lips now in pleasure. He hoped to always be able to find pleasure in your presence like this.

*-*-*-*

A week after your honeymoon, found both you and Seungmin comfortably moving all of your packed boxes into his luxury apartment. You had both decided that since his apartment was located much closer to his family’s company that it would just be easier for you to move in with him and not the other way around. Since you would be transferring into a position in the Kim’s family company it made more sense for you to live with Seungmin closer to the company.

You huffed softly as you set the last packed box down on the living room floor and watched as Seungmin set his box down as well before flopping tiredly down onto the couch. He exhaled heavily causing you to chuckle softly at him before quickly rushing over to flop against him. His loud groan at your weight landing on him made you grin and snuggle closer into his side while his arms wrapped tiredly around your body.

”So do we actually have to unpack all of it today?” He whined softly at you and flinched slightly as his nose dragged along your neck. “I know at least five better things to do with our time than unpacking.” He teased huskily to you as a blush darkened your cheeks.

”You've been insatiable since we got married.” You teased him softly as you quickly pecked his lips as they pouted prettily at you.

”My wife is pretty, I can't help it.” He grumbled out softly as he pouted his lips further trying to entice you. Your body heated with love for him as you pressed your lips firmly against his and he grunted softly before shifting to hover over you as his lips deepened the kiss. “So can I convince you to unpack later?” He asked softly.

”I have my first day of work tomorrow. I should really get the unpacking done now.” You said softly with regret and Seungmin quickly shook his head at your words as his lips trailed down your neck slowly.

”It can wait, I want to hold you first.” He whispered softly against your neck. “Let me give you a tour of the apartment.” He said sultrily while nipping at your neck. You chuckled softly at his words before smirking softly at him.

”You’re just going to give me a tour of the bedroom.” You said knowingly and his eyes sparkled delightedly at you causing you to chuckle at him.

”At least you’re not unaware.” He teased as he scooped you up into his arms and carried you down the hallway while sucking dark marks into your neck.

*-*-*-*

“What is this?” You asked with a slight curl of your lip as you pulled out an old container of take out from the fridge and tossed it into the garbage can without opening it. Seungmin sat at the kitchen island while watching you with quiet eyes, it was the weekend after your first week of work at the Kim family company and you had told Seungmin that you couldn’t live off take out for the rest of your life.

”Food.” He answered you with a shrug of his shoulders before you huffed at him while shaking your head.

”Seungmin there’s nothing in her but take out containers.” You said softly as your eyes widened while you took in his nearly empty fridge. Walking over to you he wrapped his arms around your waist and tried to close the fridge so that you didn’t judge him anymore. You were stronger though as you quickly pulled out the rest of the take out containers and handed them to him to throw out. 

“I don’t know how to cook.” He grumbled out softly after tossing the containers and moving back over to your side. You turned to face him before smiling softly, you reached up to cup his face and pulled him down slightly to you before pressing a soft kiss to his lips that he quickly reciprocated hoping to distract you.

”C’mon let’s go to the grocery store baby. I’ll cook for you from now on. Make sure you’ve got a healthy diet.” You cooed at him and Seungmin felt his cheeks heat with slight embarrassment.

”Don’t tease.” He grumbled softly and you grinned up at him before kissing him deeply, effectively stealing his breath and embarrassment from him.

”I would never.” You gasped out softly. “My former bachelor.” You teased with a wide grin before dancing out of his reach as he moved to swat your ass.

”Get back here wife.” He said darkly as his eyes heated with a sultry look directed at you as you laughed brightly at him while grabbing his car keys and tossing them at him.

“C’mon former bachelor, let’s go.” You teased over your shoulder at him with a wink and Seungmin growled low in his throat before stalking after you.

*-*-*-*

Seungmin stared at the large sleek looking coffee machine with a raised eyebrow as you eagerly bounced in your place next to him. His eyes darted from you back to the machine with a tilt of his head as confusion began to fill him. He knew you didn’t drink coffee, preferring to drink tea so he wasn’t too sure why you would buy such a fancy coffee machine.

”You don’t drink coffee.” He says softly trying not to sound so ungrateful or confused, but when your face softens as you turn to face him he can’t help but feel his heart stutter in his chest. 

“I don’t, but you do.” You say excitedly and Seungmin can’t stop the smile forming on his face as you let him know that you’ve remembered that tidbit about him. “I’m going to learn how to make an iced americano better than your favorite coffeehouse.” You tell him determinedly and he chuckles softly at the sure look on your face as he wraps his arms around your waist tugging you into his side while burying his face into your neck to hide his smile. “Already cook all your meals might as well make your coffee for you too.” You tease him and growls softly into your neck before nipping it softly causing you to yelp delightedly.

”Keep it up, wife.” He grumbles into your neck and smirks when he feels your body melt against his. “You like when I call you that huh?” He asks teasingly, enjoying the turn of events now.

”A little too much.” You confess softly on a gasp and he smirks deliciously against your neck. He begins to guide you out of the kitchen as you try to weakly stop him but when he nips once more at your neck you instantly melt against him.

”C’mon wife, lunch and coffee can wait for a moment. I need to show you something in the bedroom.” He says sultrily against your ear and he feels his heart stutter with delight in his chest again when you shiver against him. He managed to distract you enough until it was nearly dinner time and he promised to try your iced americano tomorrow morning.

*-*-*-*

Seungmin frowned as he heard the voices of his department employees just outside his office by his assistants desk. Standing from his desk he walked over to the door and leaned against the doorframe while crossing his arms over his chest. He smirked softly when he spotted you dressed in your work outfit holding a tray of chocolate chip cookies as his employees greedily took cookies.

”What’s this?” He asked bemused and you looked over at him with a grin on your face as your eyes crinkled softly at him.

”Cookies.” You say happily as you show him the half empty tray with a proud grin. Seungmin smirks softly as he scoffs softly before walking over to your side. He peers at the tray before grabbing a cookie and taking a bite out of it as he smirks at you.

”Delicious.” He says softly and watches delightedly as your cheeks flush prettily.

”Your wife is a great baker!” Comes praise from one of his employees and Seungmin hums softly and he finishes chewing the cookie before wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you closer into his side.

”She’s a great cook.” Seungmin proudly tells his employees who all smile knowingly at him.

”Spoiled rotten.” Gripes out one of the employees and you burst out into happy laughter as you turn your face into Seungmin’s shoulder.

”I can’t help but spoil him. It’s my job.” You say with a cheeky grin that has Seungmin puffing his chest with pride.

”Be jealous.” He snips out and you laugh softly at his words while shaking your head at him.

”Ignore him.” You tell his employees and Seungmin pouts exaggeratedly at you. “I’ll make you guys more cookies and bring them around more often.” You tell them and they all cheer while Seungmin pouts at you. He then takes the cookie tray from you before setting it down on his assistant’s desk and guiding you into his office. When he shuts the door behind the both of you the jeers from his employees make you blush softly but Seungmin pays them no mind as he wraps his arms around you tightly and pulls you close.

”I missed you today.” He coos softly at you and you sigh as his fingers card through your hair and tilt your head back to stare up at him.

”Missed you too.” You whisper back at him and he grins before capturing your lips while humming softly.

”How much?” He asks sultrily as he backs you up to lean against his desk and you squeak softly as you feel his body press flush against yours.

”So much.” You whisper before sighing against his mouth dreamily. “I have to get back to my department though. I just meant to bring cookies for you and your department.” You tell him softly and he whines quietly against your mouth.

”Don’t go yet.” He whispers and you hum softly as your lips move against each other. “Just a little longer, please.” He said softly and you smiled softly at him before kissing his once more.

”Just for a little longer.” You promised softly, causing him to hum in delight.

*-*-*-*

The next morning Seungmin frowns darkly as his cell phone alarm blares loudly on his end table. Turning his head to bury it further into his pillow he groans softly and tries to get away from the offending noise. As he blinks his eyes open he frowns even more as realizes that his alarm had woken up instead of the smell of your cooking or your soft humming along to your favorite song.

Just then his alarm shuts off and his cell phone begins to ring with your ringtone, he frowns deeper before blindly reaching over to grab his cell phone and answer it.

”Good morning handsome.” You coo at him in a tired tone which causes his eyebrows to furrow at the tone and the fact that you’re calling him.

”Good morning sweetheart, where are you?” He asks in a soft raspy voice as he slowly wakes up from his sleep.

”I had to go into work earlier because of a new project. Remember, I told you last night at dinner?” You reminded him and Seungmin grunted softly as he rolled to sit up in bed.

”I was a little distracted last night.” He grumbled softly and you laughed teasingly at him before cooing softly as he rolled his eyes at your antics.

”What’s the matter handsome? Did your wife give it to you too good last night?” You tease him softly and Seungmin’s cheeks heatedly in memory at everything you two did last night.

”Watch it or I’ll come find you at work and give it to you just as good.” He grumbled out and you chuckled softly at him.

”You wouldn’t dare.” You teased and he smirked softly at you through the phone.

”What do you think the whole point of having my own office for is?” He asked darkly and heard your breath catch in your throat causing him him to smirk softly.

”Alright, alright. Anyway I wanted to greet you good morning and let you know that your breakfast is waiting for you in the oven and your iced americano is on the counter with your lunchbox.” You told him sweetly and Seungmin smiled softly at the knowledge that even when you weren’t able to be home with him you were still taking care of him.

”You take such good care of me.” He cooed softly at you and you chuckled softly before coughing tiredly.

”Well someone’s got to.” You grumble out and he laughs delightedly at your words. “I gotta get back to work. I love you, I'll see you at dinner tonight.” You say to him and he quickly responds knowing that you needed to get back to work.

”I love you too sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.” He says softly feeling slightly dejected that you weren’t here to have breakfast with him but the phone call would have to do to hold him over until dinner tonight.

*-*-*-*

When Seungmin gets home that night he tiredly slips out of his work shoes before stepping into his house slippers and setting his briefcase down by the door and undoing his tie. He’s missed you all day today and he’s so eager to finally get to see you, his body and mind craving your presence after your absence. But as he walks further into the apartment he frowns softly as he notices that he can’t smell any food cooking and the kitchen is awfully quiet from your normal favorite music playing over your speakers.

”Sweetheart?” He calls worriedly as he moves through the living room to the kitchen to see what you were doing before he hears a soft low groan from the couch. Turning he finds you splayed out on the couch cuddled up against the pillows as a fluffy blanket is covering you completely. He walks over slowly before crouching down in front of you, he smiles softly and reaches forward to brush your hair out of your face to see your peacefully sleeping face. “Aww sweetheart.” He coos softly at you causing your eyes to blearily blink up at him.

Your eyes are bloodshot and your face is clouded with sleep making his heart clench with affection as he stares at you. You’re so pretty with your face swollen from resting against the pillows while your lips smack softly against each other. You groan loudly before a loud cough rings out into the air and Seungmin watches quietly as you frown before tucking your head back into the pillows.

”Are you okay sweetheart? Starting to feel sick?” He asks softly while running his fingers through your hair to comfort you.

”I think I’ve got a cold. Might’ve been running ragged lately.” You rasp out softly to him and Seungmin frowns softly before he quickly wraps his arms around you and scoops you up to cradle you against his chest. “Seungmin!” You cry out softly as you cuddle closer into his chest.

”I’ve got you, don't worry. Let’s get you into bed and I’ll make a call to your supervisor letting them know you’ll be out for the rest of the week while I nurse you back to health.” He says determinedly and you gasp at his words.

”Nurse me back to health?” You ask bewildered and he looks down at you with a furrowed brow.

”Duh sweetheart, can’t have my wife sick and still taking care of me and her job.” He said matter of factly as he walks towards your bedroom. “It’s my turn to take care of you now. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll make sure you have plenty of medicine, I’ll ask my mom for her soup recipe, and I’ll keep you well rested in bed the whole time.” He assures you. He smiles proudly as he watches you melt into his arms with a tired sigh and a sweet loving smile on your face.

”You spoil me.” You tease him softly and he grins while shaking his head at you.

”It’s my job.” He responds softly before he enters your bedroom holding you close to his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin

[wolvietxt]

𝓭ay 𝓽wo.

bucky barnes + forced proximity.

crammed into the narrow utility closet, you’re trying your best to ignore the fact that there’s barely enough room to move. bucky stands just inches away, his broad shoulders practically brushing the walls, and you’re wedged so close together you can feel the warmth radiating from him. it’s a situation you’ve never imagined ending up in, yet here you are, all because some rookie agent accidentally tripped the lockdown protocols during a mission debrief.

you glance at bucky, who’s leaning back against the wall with a look of mild irritation, arms crossed over his chest. it’s not the ideal place to be stuck in, but you decide to make the best of it. "well," you start, a grin spreading across your face, "at least it’s not a trash compactor or an air duct. i’ve seen enough movies to know those would be way worse."

he raises an eyebrow at you, clearly not as amused as you are. "couldn’t be much worse than this," he mutters, but you catch the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

you keep talking anyway, hoping to lighten the mood. “you know, if we’re gonna be stuck here, we might as well take the opportunity to get to know each other better. i mean, i know you’re really into old music, but what’s your favorite song? like, if you had to pick just one.”

bucky lets out a long-suffering sigh, but there’s a glimmer of something softer in his eyes as he looks down at you. "doesn’t matter," he grumbles. "doubt you’d know it anyway."

“try me,” you counter, undeterred. “i might surprise you.”

he rolls his eyes, but he answers anyway. “fine. ‘it’s been a long, long time.’”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “aw, that’s a sweet choice. i wouldn’t have pegged you as a hopeless romantic.”

“i’m not,” he says quickly, but there’s a slight flush creeping up his neck, and you catch it despite the dim lighting.

“sure you aren’t,” you tease, leaning against the wall beside him. “maybe you’ve got more of a soft spot than you let on, bucky.”

his gaze flickers to you, a touch of defensiveness there, but it melts away as he looks at the amused expression on your face. “you talk too much, you know that, sweetheart?” he says, but there’s no real annoyance in his tone, just a gruff fondness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“yeah, but you like it,” you shoot back, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “admit it - you’d be bored out of your mind if it was completely quiet in here.”

bucky huffs, his gaze dropping for a moment, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile finally tugging at his lips. “maybe,” he concedes, his voice low, “but that doesn’t mean you have to prove it every second.”

“oh, but i do,” you say, grinning at him. “it’s my duty as your personal cheer squad. someone’s gotta keep things from getting too gloomy, and you know i’m right.”

he doesn’t respond right away, just glances at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. there’s a tension in the air, a kind of charged silence between your banter, and the confined space only seems to amplify it. the longer you’re stuck in here, the more aware you become of the closeness, the way his blue eyes linger on yours just a little too long.

“you know,” you continue, your tone softer now, “i’m really glad i’m stuck with you. it could’ve been anyone else, but i’d pick you every time.”

bucky’s gaze snaps to yours, and something shifts in his expression, the usual guardedness giving way to a vulnerable softness. “why?” he asks, and it’s not a challenge - more like he genuinely doesn’t understand why you’d choose him over someone else.

you take a step closer, your chest almost brushing against his. “because you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be,” you murmur. “and because, even if you don’t show it, you care… about the team, and about me.”

his jaw tightens, like he’s holding back something he doesn’t quite know how to say. “maybe i do,” he finally admits, his voice rougher than before, “but it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“why not?” you press, taking the last small step that leaves barely any space between you. “what if it could be a good idea?”

bucky doesn’t move away; if anything, he leans in, his voice dropping even lower. “i’m not the type of guy you should be stuck with,” he says quietly, but there’s a longing in his gaze, like he’s waiting for you to contradict him.

“that’s for me to decide,” you reply, your voice steady as you reach up to touch his cheek. “and i’d say ‘m exactly where i want to be.”

he closes his eyes at the touch, like he’s letting himself believe you, just for a moment. then he leans down, his forehead resting against yours. “you make it too damn hard to push you away,” he murmurs, the faintest smile ghosting across his lips.

“good,” you breathe, your heart racing as his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

it’s all the encouragement he needs. bucky closes the distance, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s surprisingly gentle, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment. his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens as he lets himself sink into it, like this is the one good thing he’s allowed to have.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, still tangled up together. “see?” you whisper, pressing your forehead against his. “being stuck together isn’t so bad.”

he huffs a soft laugh, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “guess not,” he concedes, his voice barely above a murmur. “but next time, let’s try finding somewhere with a little more space, alright?”

you laugh softly, leaning up to kiss him again. “deal.”

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[todorokies]

jjk characters as male thot jobs

including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami

contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once

a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one

☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”

he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.

☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.

you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error, darling.”

☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.

“here’s your stuff, pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t: you’ve officially peaked his interest. “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that, you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.

☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.

but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[junabuggy]

Hi! I love your writing! Would you be up for writing a fic where reader has super bad separation anxiety from Al, but he has to go somewhere without them and either Angel Dust or Husk is in charge of taking care of them/keeping them calm while he’s gone? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️

Separation anxiety! GN! Reader x Alastor/husker?

A/n: Of course !! Honestly this has been super fun and I’m more than grateful for all the people who seem to enjoy my silly little fanfictions/headcanons, many thanks everybody ♥️♥️

Also, if you couldn’t tell from a lot of my writing, I’ve taken quite a liking to Alastor… So I get it, I love him too y’all ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Warnings: Mentions of separation anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Alastor being Alastor so light mentions of blood and cannibalism (doesn’t actually happen)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

Hope yall don’t mind a few headcanons first about this :33

📻𖤐 it’s hard to tell how Alastor would realistically react to someone being attached to him in that way..

📻𖤐 Like do I think it would bother him? No, he wouldn’t mind you tagging along wherever he went as long as you didn’t bother him too much or get in the way of things but there are just times where he requires or wants to be alone. Which is where Husker would come in lol

📻𖤐 He probably wouldn’t leave you with Angel, even if Husk wasn’t available for whatever reason he’d just get Charlie to look after you while he was away.

📻𖤐 I feel like he cares/loves in an odd way.. like he wants to tear you apart and lick up all your delicious, sweet blood but in an affectionate way??? If that makes sense?? Remember that pomegranate cannibalism metaphor that went around on TikTok for a bit there? Think that.

📻𖤐 of course, he wouldn’t do that, he wants to keep you around.

Okok I’m done yapping about silly radio man lol, onto the fic

Unfortunately, today was one of those days you couldn’t tag along with where Alastor went, he was attending an overlord meeting and obviously you not being an overlord it meant that you couldn’t go with him despite all of your protests and begging.

Before his departure, he sat you down at the bar with Husker and gave you a little pat on the head, telling you that he’d be back shortly and walking out of the hotel doors.

The grumpy cat demon poured himself a drink as he stared at you, this wasn’t exactly the first time Alastor had left him on “babysitting” duty with you and he didn’t exactly mind it. You were quite sweet for somebody who landed themselves in a place like hell.

“Where’s he off to this time?” Husker asked before taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage he held in his hand, attempting to make some form of conversation with you.

“Oh.. just some kind of silly overlord meeting…” You mumbled out a short reply whilst looking a bit glum. He simply nodded in response, setting his glass down on the bar countertop to mix you up a little something as well.

Husk didn’t understand your attachment to the Radio Demon to be completely frank with you. He and a lot of others viewed Alastor as something to fear, respect, and try to avoid contact with the best they could… so seeing someone who enjoyed his company was a foreign idea to him. But he wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t exactly his business anyways and at least he seemed to treat you decently.

“Don’t stress it kid, he’ll be back soon. He keeps his promises I’ll give him that much.” Husk attempted to reassure you, giving a slight smile as he slid a drink down to you.

You smiled back weakly and nodded, taking a deep breath as you grabbed the drink he had slid over to you. You took a sip and it tasted like a screwdriver, not too bad of a drink and it would probably take your mind off of things a little bit if you had a few of them. Which was probably the goal Husker was trying to reach.. he couldn’t imagine separation anxiety to be very fun.

Later into the night once you got a few drinks in you, you started to forget all about why you were upset and/or stressed out in the first place. Chatting with Husk about random stuff and occasionally mentioning and talking about a person or two.

Husk wished there were more nights like this, more time spent with you… and who knows? Maybe you’ll be visiting the bar more often for him after tonight if he was lucky. He was pretty good at playing his cards right, after all.

(Sorry this was kinda short !! I wasn’t sure what else to write. Lmk if you guys maybe want a part two with Alastor coming back from his little meeting, I might do that :3)

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[1d1195]

Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

*

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

*

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

*

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him.  “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @12yeahiminluvwu

@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[sold2vlaykz]

AI-uploaded.

Prompt:Tesla has officially made robots the new thing! Everyone has one, what happens when you get your very own?

You’ve never enjoyed the idea of robots taking over the world, or humans already having control of it.

You didn’t understand why war or anything happened why couldn’t we all just make out or chill, something jeez.

Though you needed some extra help around the place, sure you didn’t like the thought of someone or something you didn’t know being around your house and handling things.

But you couldn’t clean, take care of your animals, and work too.

So you bought one, a Tesla fucking robot. You remember them advertising the blank faced thing on tv.

Making it more ‘acceptable’ by giving it a voice.

Though the damn things still had words on its face, so they’d be accessible for deaf people even going as far to teach them sign language.

Some have moveable braille. They come in colors, brown, pink, yellow, anything you could think of.

Now it’s not that you were excited, happy or even relieved. You thought of it as a burden because now you’d have to go to a Tesla socket and plug the damn thing up.

You already brought the damn robot there’s no way you would buy the charger too.

Did it look like you had thousands of dollars laying around?

No.

You only brought this so you could get some sleep and not hear your dog crying all the damn time.

So here you were, jaw to the floor as another robot carried the thousand pound box to your living room. A man in the car reading what looked like mail.

The robot walked out of your house, making small talk as it left.

The robot came full pieced, all you had to do was power it on.

It was just like a cellphone almost, it came charged.

It took the strength of every bone in your body to stand the damn thing up straight, your hands wondered on the shiny thing trying to find the damn button.

“Hello?”

A voice spoke, you jumped back. The thing was on, you didn’t even know what you pressed.

“How did you umm, turn on?”

You stuttered over your words as if examined itself, twisting its hands in front of where eyes should be.

“Eye recognition.”

You gasped, you remember when Apple did its eye thing but who knew they partnered with Elon musk?

It muttered your name before tilting its head up to you.

“What shall I do as your service?”

You coughed clearing your throat, feeling uneasy because it was harder to read this stoic thing than a human.

“Just feed my pets, keep the house clean. Easy job. When you’re done you can do whatever.”

It nodded before scanning the house, its head doing a weird observing tilt.

“Where are these ‘pets.’ Currently and what are they?” There was a weird pause between you two.

“They’re outside, let them in-in two hours, let them out every four. They’re dogs.”

It hummed before nodding its head

Immediately going to do what it was told to.

“You don’t have to now, I’ve already done everything. Just do it when I can’t.”

It froze in place a beep sound coming from it, it face had some weird dots on it coming in connecting circles with the words on the bottom ‘loading.’

“Then what was the point of my purchase if I am to just do what you didn’t manage to do, but usually do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, before passing it the remote.

“Here’s some TV, try not to fuck your mind.”

Another boop, and another loading screen.

“Fuck my mind, I assume you are trying to metaphorically tell me not to mess up my mind the same way others use the term fucked up.”

You paused, you held your laughter in your throat.

“Uh yeah, sure dude.”

You jogged upstairs leaving the vessel of wires on your couch clicking through the feed.

You went to get ready for work, you had already took a shower earlier that day so all you had to do was get your clothes and necessities.

You grabbed your purse and began scattering through your dresser drawer, you sighed and realized that finding your keys would’ve been a hassle.

So you moved on and decided you’d do that last.

You put on your work clothes, the uncomfortable texture made you feel cold, you grabbed some shoes, something dirty, or fucked up so you didn’t have to mess up anything else.

You grabbed your purse and threw your phone inside, you jogged down the stairs only to see the robot gone.

“Uh, robot?”

You heard nothing, no response. The horn outside repeatedly beeping made the suspense worse.

You walked into the kitchen only to see the robot sitting near the counter pressing the button on the keys.

“God you found it!”

You jogged up to him or it and snatched the keys. It sensed your annoyance.

“I am sorry, I suppose I got distracted.”

You cut him some slack, you knew what it was like to get distracted when you had things to do. But a robot? What good was it if it couldn’t do what it was designed for?

“Listen, just watch after the house. It’s fine, I’ll see you in 12.”

You headed out the door, and went towards your car. A twelve hour shift was practically voluntary slavery.

—————

You sighed, home sweet home.

Your back muscles were tensed, body sore snd feet cramped. You groaned as you stepped out the car, picking up your purse was another burden because of the weight it held.

You didn’t feel like rummaging for your key.

Never thought you’d say it but thank fucking God for Elon musk.

You dragged your limp body up the steps before three harsh knocks. A deeper voice answering you.

“Hello, who is it?”

“Your owner.”

You responded, he recognized your voice and opened the door immediately.

“Good morning, how was your day-”

You walked passed him, throwing your purse to the ground nor caring about your phone.

You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes on the freshly cleaned carpet floor.

You noticed your two dogs sleep in the dog bed with their bowls full near them and that’s all you needed. Though there had been a little piece of metal in its mouth,

Normally anyone else would’ve been concerned but your dogs had a weird kink for biting its cage apart.

You let out a hefty sigh and closed your eyes before telling the robot to lock the door.

————

Your eyes fluttered open by the sound of clashing, you immediately took a look to your left, your dogs were sound asleep.

You stood up, knowing that the damn robot had got itself into something or stuck.

Though when you stood you couldn’t help but notice your shoes off and your purse gone.

Did the damn thing rob you?

“Hello?”

You called it before hearing the now famous loading boop.

“Up here.”

Its voice had been blank, as if it simply fell and understood it couldn’t get up.

You walked up the stairs a little nervous if you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you were to see.

You pushed your door open before seeing the robot on the ground its left hand covering its right forearm.

Electricity seemed to be buzzing from it, anyone could tell it was injured.

“What the hell happened?”

You yelled, loading screen once again.

“I went to let your animals in and they attacked me, I suppose they feared I was an intruder and tried to protect the home.”

You gasped before kneeling to its side before wondering one thing.

“How’d you manage to get away?”

You had to ask, you had two, two hundred forty-pound dogs.

“When it bit me I climbed up the rails into your room.”

The thought of the robot clinging to your walls like Spider-Man unnerved you but God you couldn’t let your thousand dollar investment go to waste.

“How much is it going to cost to fix you?”

You asked, a sigh leaving your lips.

“ a few thousands of dollars, though I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

You sighed before grabbing some cloth and wrapping its arm tightly so no bolts or wires would fall out of its joints.

“You’re laying in my bed.”

The robot let out an audible gasp,

“I wouldn’t want to burden you-”

You ignored what it said and repeated yourself before helping it into the bed.

You sighed.

“I should’ve just stayed home, but thank you for helping me.”

The robots head turned to you in a creepy way, unsettling and you knew it was something you’d have to get used too.

“No need to thank me- Battery low. - That’s what I’m here for.”

You sighed knowing you’d had to drive to a charger tomorrow and work extra hard to get it fixed and pay for the bills and your animals.

“Goodnight- Power off-”

You sighed before nuzzling into the covers.

“Goodnight. Robot.”

[piarelei]

Date Night

Can be read as a sequel to Bullseye, but doesn't have to be.

Jake slid onto the passenger seat and the leather gave a squeak of protest under him. Bradley gave him a bordering-on-nervous smile. Jake was too floored with how out of character it felt that he barely reacted when he was greeted with a kiss. This was incredibly unusual. 

“Ready?” asked Bradley. 

Jake hummed, trying to settle in his seat. He refused to feel nervous. 

“Right. Let’s go, I made a reservation for 7:30.”  

Jake affiliated the noose that tightened around his throat to hunger. There was no other reason for it. 

The restaurant was beyond nice. Jake was always impeccably dressed, but he felt decidedly out of place trailing after Bradley. Their waiter brought them to a linen-draped table and handed them menus printed on a single sheet of paper. Jake looked up with some alarm, only to find Bradley already mesmerized into his own potential order. 

The table between them was akin to a sea of loneliness. 

“This is not working.”

Bradley looked at him with a bone deep shock. 

“I’m not talking about our relationship. I’m talking about this,” he twirled his finger around, designating the room at large. “I’m missing something.” 

Anger rose on Rooster’s face like a bloom at dawn. “This is a date.”

“Yes. But this is not the sort of date we go on. Honestly, I’m surprised you would choose something like that. Feels awfully heteronormative coming from you.”

Bradley pulled a face. It didn’t hide the sudden blush heating on his neck. “I suck your dick. There’s nothing heteronormative about it.”

Their waiter popped over at this exact moment. He was too polite to say anything, but his gaze held multitudes. “Have you chosen what you would like to start with?” 

“We’ll take two Old Fashioned, thank you.” 

Bradley frowned but didn’t correct him. Once the waiter left with their orders, he leaned over. “I don’t even like Old Fashioneds.” 

“Both are for me. You prefer to drink with your meal anyway.” 

Bradley sighed. “This was not what I envisioned.”

“And what did you envision?” 

“I don’t know. I thought you would be pleased. Less aggressive.” 

Jake crossed his arms, then uncrossed them, feeling too defensive. “Listen, I struggle to understand why we’re not making out on my couch right now.” 

The waiter dropped off their drinks and offered to take their order. Jake let Bradley take charge of his meal. 

Bradley stared at him. “Is it so awful for me to do something…” He winced. “A bit romantic?”

Jake did his hardest to keep his face neutral. It didn’t work, Bradley frowned at whatever he saw in his eyes. 

“Right. This was fucking stupid. Come on, I’ll pay, let’s go.” 

Jake couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved by that, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford any broken china in their relationship after a five-months-long distance.

“Bradshaw, sit down. We’ve been dating for nearly a year. We don’t do this sort of thing.”

Bradley shrugged. “Maybe we should.” 

“Well, I wasn’t under the impression that there was anything wrong with the way we were.” 

Bradley kept quiet. His expression remained stiff. 

Jake leaned back, an idea percolating suddenly. “Are you about to propose?” 

The immediate panic was a relief. “Jesus, no. That would be fucking crazy.” 

“Right. Okay. Well?” 

Bradley looked away, toying with one of the Old Fashion he had appropriated. He sighed, giving in. “It’s just a thing my parents did. Mav told me he used to babysit me all the time so that my Dad could bring my mom to this semi-fancy restaurant she loved. I just thought it would be nice to have this with you.”

Jake softened, then felt a thick surge of guilt take place up in his throat. It felt incredibly selfish to have opposed Bradley every step of the way when he had wanted to do something nice, even if it was different from what they were used to. To what Jake needed. 

“I’m…” He battled with it a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to this sort of dating.” 

“That’s my fault too, then.” 

“Fuck off, Bradshaw, you’re not my first boyfriend.” 

“Hopefully, I’m your last.” 

Jake’s words were robbed from his mouth for a good second. “Sounds a lot like you're proposing to me.” 

Bradley leaned back, familiarly smug. “Maybe I should.” 

Jake was grateful to see their waiter coming to keep him from having to say anything incriminating, like yes.

Didn't really have any time before today and worked up a quick thing, more of a character study than anything else. Hoped you enjoyed. Show some love with a reblog baby ♥

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! First of all, thank you so so so much for this blog. It's incredibly useful for both old and new fans.

Second, I was wondering if you could help me recommending fics in which Aziraphale and Crowley are exes who still love each other? You see, one of my favorite fics is Ink Blots and Forget-Me-Nots and it made me want to keep reading that trope.

Thank you in advance!

Hi and thanks! We have #getting back together and #reunion tags with loads of fics like this (including the one you've mentioned), so do check those out. Here are more fics to add to the collection...

you're what haunts me (now that you're away) by duri (M)

“I don’t understand.” Crowley says quietly. “Why aren’t I enough for you?” “Oh…” Aziraphale murmurs, coming up to him, cupping his jaw with a feather light grip. “Oh, Crowley. Don’t ever think that, of course you're enough. You're more than enough." Crowley yanks himself away, his eyes burning even more. It’s a foreign feeling and he sends a quick thanks down to whoever is in charge downstairs that his sunglasses are always on. He shudders to think what his eyes look like underneath. “Then why couldn’t you stay?” Or, Crowley tries to get used to life on his own, but it would be a lot easier if a certain angel would stop showing up.

Tumbling Down by katonline (E)

When summer finally rolls in and lays heavy on the South Downs, he realizes he’s lonely. While most demons are solitary creatures, Crowley is not; just another way he doesn’t fit the mold. Without thinking, he picks up his phone, meaning to call Aziraphale - wants to tell him all about the cottage, what he’s done, what he’s made. Pain brings him up short. He can’t call him - literally, because he never added Aziraphale's number to this new mobile; but it’s more than that, of course. The angel doesn’t want what Crowley aches to give, holding out to him in two shaking hands. You go too fast for me. So he racks his brain for an alternative, trying to come up with someone to share his accomplishments with. After a week, he lands on the witch. She, too, can make things grow. He dials the operator, asks for Tadfield, Jasmine Cottage. The witch answers. She doesn’t sound surprised. I’d love to come see what you’ve done with the place. Crowley, frustrated by Aziraphale's continued hesitance, attempts to make a new life for himself after the Apocalypse-that-Wasn't.

Seven Minutes (Years) in Heaven by LollipopCop (E)

Gabriel’s violet eyes widened, almost comically shocked, and then he smiled tightly. “Now, what’s this?” Crowley’s throat was dry, the flowers and chocolates suddenly heavy in his hands. “Um.” Grateful that the glasses hid his gaze, he looked to Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked ill with panic. Right. He’d have to save them both. It wouldn’t be the first time. First time from an archangel, but God loved to toy with him, didn’t She? He had to put his theological angst aside, because above all costs, Gabriel could not find out that Crowley was in a semi-relationship with his agent on earth; he would absolutely harm Aziraphale, and there was no way Crowley would let that happen. ~~ Inspired by the deleted scene of the bookshop's grand opening in episode 3. Aziraphale and Crowley start a relationship in Paris, 1793, but are torn apart.

Headlights by RoswellSmokingWoman (M)

Aziraphale made Crowley want to believe in the ineffability of a God that brought them together. Crowley made Aziraphale want to sacrifice his religion and worship their love instead. But that was then when love was enough to bring together two fools desperate to make it work. Three years after their divorce, Aziraphale and Crowley aren't talking. They've tried to move on, but neither can. It should be their anniversary, on New Year's Eve, but they're not together. They should be together. Aziraphale calls. He's not even sure whether Crowley will pick up, but he does. They see each other again for the first time in years, and it's a whirlwind. It's time to heal old wounds, put aside their differences, and make their relationship work again. They already know the alternative, and know they can't live like that anymore.

I Was Made For Lovin' You by midnightdragons (T)

Anthony Crowley is a big-shot stuntman, working on a movie alongside a new member of the industry, a cameraman named Aziraphale hopeful to create his own movie one day. The two's fling begins to evolve into something more, until there's an accident on set that leaves Crowley injured, and their relationship in shambles. Six years later, Crowley's called back for the first time since then -- to a movie that Aziraphale himself is directing. (An AU inspired by and with some dialogue taken from Ryan Gosling's The Fall Guy; stuntman!Crowley, director!Aziraphale.)

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

- Mod D

[seattledayone]

dina and caretaking

i think there’s a lot to be said for the situations we see dina in throughout tlou2 and how they tie into her backstory, as well as any potential guilt she may be carrying with her.

the first time we see her, she’s supervising a group of children. even though she’s not necessarily taking care of them, she’s still taken it upon herself to ensure their happiness and safety, and it seems like something she does often considering how ellie and jesse know exactly where to find her.

every time after that, she’s taking care of ellie (or, later on, jesse). she’s not a pushover by any means, but she allows ellie to take charge and is always there when the other woman comes back to her with cuts and bruises and bucketloads of trauma to sport. even when she starts to suspect she’s pregnant, she doesn’t say anything in favor of letting ellie finish her mission and keeping her the focus of the trip. when ellie returns from killing nora, broken and beaten, dina doesn’t berate her; she immediately takes to getting her comfortable and as patched up as she can.

when jesse arrives, the first thing dina does is help him take care of his wounds, and she makes sure to check in on ellie and stitch her up too. at the farmhouse, she literally says “you think this is easy? for you and for him, i deal with it,” implying that she sets her grief aside in order to take care of the two most important people in her life.

in my opinion, this all ties back to talia.

talia used to be the one to take care of her, alongside their parents back when they moved from place to place. however, once talia fell into grief-stricken depression, it was dina’s “duty” to lead them to a safe place and keep talia alive.

and she failed.

talia still died. she still succumbed to the world around her, though we don’t know how. no matter what dina did, no matter how much or how little she let herself feel, she couldn’t keep her sister alive.

i think she sees a lot of talia in ellie, particularly at the farmhouse. in her eyes, she may have failed with jesse and failed with talia and failed, even, with herself, but she has an opportunity to right those “wrongs.” she has an opportunity to save ellie. maybe she thinks that the reason talia died is because she pushed her too hard to keep going despite her grief, and that’s why she’s so overly lenient with ellie for the longest time.

until she isn’t.

again, this is all just my opinion, but i think that when dina says “im not gonna do this again,” she is not only referencing waiting in anxious anticipation for ellie to return but also finally admitting to herself that she can’t save everyone. she can’t be waiting with open arms for the sick and dying and traumatized to be patched up and coddled until they run off and do something reckless again. she cannot be the healer. finally, she understands that it isn’t her shortcomings that bring about the deaths of those she loves.

even if she doesn’t understand that quite yet, she now has a baby. she can’t afford to put herself or him in a situation like that — or around people like that, purely out of protectiveness over her son and his view of the world.

she’s letting herself and her peace and safety come first, something that, up until now, we haven’t ever seen her do.

[thatssonanii]

Chapter Fifteen

A/N: Still getting back into the swing of things and repair is still going on all over the city BUT I was able to finish this chapter! (Yay!) Hope yall enjoy it! Oh and shout to the anon who told me about my masterlist! All of them are working now!! Listen, I'm not gonna yie to yall ... this one is a lil heavy! Reblog, Share, Comment and Like!

Warning: Cursing, Fighting, Death, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS, 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen

DO NOT POST MY WORK ANYWHERE ELSE AND/OR CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN!

Being back in Texas usually gave Hassan a sense of dread and joy, both for obvious reasons but this time was different for him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the actual feelings he was having but if he had to put a label on it, they would be feelings of contentment. He had been the protector for as long as he could remember but today he felt protected. They way Tamara took charge since they stepped foot back in the state. Although he expected her to want him to do all the talking with his ex-wife, she didn’t. Besides a short greeting, he hadn’t been able to say a word.  Tamara was covering all the bases and then some.

“So as I was saying, I wanted to make sure you and I are on the same page with everything.”

They sat at the breakfast table, Hassan and Tamara on one side and Nadine on the other. The women maintaining eye contact, smiles on their faces. 

“I hate that you traveled all this way and wasted your time.” Nadine shrugged. “You and I don’t need to be on the same page about anything. I didn’t marry you nor did I lay down and have a kid with you which makes you insignificant to me, Tara.”

“It’s Tamara but you’re a smart chick so I know you already knew that. I get it, I understand,” she stressed, “Hassan is a great man and a great partner so it’s hard to realize that he’s moved on to someone else but that is the reality of the situation.”

Nadine glanced at her mute ex husband and chuckled. “You think you’re special? You know how many women he’s entertained after our divorce? None of them lasted because they were not me and you’ll be the same way. San loves me and will always love me.”

Tamara reached across the table to hold her hand. “Nadine, it doesn’t matter to me whether you accept this or you decide to continue to be delusional about it. But just know if you choose the latter, Hassan will no longer be taking your calls which also need to decrease in number.”

“Hassan would never,” she spat, snatching her hand back.

She smiled. “He would because you know like I know Hassan respects his relationships. Look, Moriah is already no contact with you. I’m sure you don’t want your only point of contact for her to be gone. Do you?”

Nadine tilted her head then moved her attention to her ex-husband. “You better get your little woman on a leash. You need to help her understand that threatening me is not something that she wants to do.”

Hassan, as calm as always, put a hand on Tamara’s arm to stop her before she responded. “She is not threatening you. She is simply explaining to you what is gonna happen if we cannot come to an agreement.”

“She doesn’t have anything to do with whatever agreement or non agreement that you and I have, Hassan. None. I don’t even know why you brought this bitch to my house!”

“His house,” Tamara chuckled, catching Hassan’s pointed look, “Sorry but its the truth.”

“Oh so you got her all in our business, huh? She’s met my daughter, she’s in our divorce decree. Hell, what else have you told her, Hassan?”

He wiped his hand down his face. This is why he hated to have communication with her. The smallest things would get blown out of proportion just to satisfy her. More than two decades of her never changing but progressively getting worse had made him tired. 

“If you’re asking what I know you’re asking then no, I have not told her that. Nadine, we have to move into a better place for the sake of me and for the sake of my relationship. Moriah is an adult so I no longer owe you a relationship, an explanation or an update in or about my life. The only thing I will continue to extend to you is cordiality and updates passed through Moriah specifically for you.” He paused to allow her to speak. When she didn’t he continued, he did. “If you cannot accept these terms then unless there is an emergency, you and I will no longer be speaking.”

Nadine covered her face, chuckling a little to herself. Her phone vibrated on the table in front of her, when she brought her hands down and spotted the name she quickly grabbed it, excusing herself from the table to the nearest bathroom.

“Hey. Everything okay,” she whispered.

“Oh, are you working? I’m sorry, I got your schedule mixed up.”

“You’re fine, DJ. I’m not at work. I have guests and I don’t want them in my business.”

He laughed at that. “Just call me back later. I just wanted to check on you. Enjoy your company.”

“I don’t see that happening.Hassan is here and he’s brought his new girlfriend,” she scoffed.

Dewayne paused to think about his response. Despite his lover’s feelings, he couldn’t find a bad thing to say about Hassan. When the two met by way of his cousin, he expected to have to fight the other man or get into an argument but none of that happened. Hassan was polite, he was calm, he was collected. All things Nadine never described him to be, it caught him off guard. But even if she had described him as such, Dewayne knew how he would act if he had to meet the man that was sleeping with his wife and it wouldn’t be anything like the other man. 

“Nadine, just listen to whatever they have to say, keep your smart comments to a minimum and it’ll be over quickly.” He spoke softly, hoping she didn’t take it the wrong way. The line went silent for a moment. “Beautiful, you still there?” 

“I’m here and fine.” She let out a frustrated puff of air. “I’ll call you when they leave.” 

“Good. Straighten your face, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Returning to the table, Nadine looked between the couple with a small, polite smile. She could tell that the two of them had some type of conversation that had put Tamara in a much brighter mood. She made a note to check her cameras later.

“Sorry about that. An important call.” She moved her chair closer to the table so she could prop her elbows on it. “Hassan, I’m happy for you. Glad you’ve found someone to be happy with, that’s … it's great. And I understand that your girlfriend is uncomfortable with the communication between us.”

Tamara raised a brow and spoke up. “That’s not what I said.”

Nadine continued to talk, not acknowledging the other woman’s interjection. “So if it will make her more secure in your relationship then I will try to be more mindful. I will send you a text before I call and you can let me know if it is a good time or not.”

Hassan put his hand on Tamara’s thigh, squeezing it gently knowing she was going to interject again. “A text would do fine. But one text. If I don’t answer right away please do not bombard me with more texts or call anyway.”

“Sure,” Nadine agreed with a smile. “I do have one ask though. I do not care that she has met Moriah or that they have a relationship as long as Moriah is okay with it. All I ask is that when it comes to matters between us and our daughter that she is not involved nor does she comment about it to me unless she is asked.”

Turning to the side, Tamara stared at the side of Hassan’s face and he could feel the anger radiating off of her. He knew what his girlfriend wanted but he also knew the only way they were going to get peace. Peace was much more important than buttons being pushed. 

“I can agree to that but Tamara is going to be here for a while so as our relationship matures, she’s going to be allowed into conversations where appropriate. Just as I would allow if you decide to get serious with someone.”

Getting what she wanted brought a big, genuine smile to her face which she directed at Tamara. And seeing how upset the other woman was only made her happier. 

“Well this was very … enlightening but I do have other things to do so if you two don’t mind leaving my house. Sorry I mean Hassan’s house,” Nadine laughed obnoxiously. 

Hassan helped Tamara from her chair then pushed both of their chairs up. He allowed Tamara to walk in front of him. “Alright now, Nadine, that’s enough. There ain’t no need for that.”

Nadine shrugged, still laughing, “I’m just trying to have a little fin. Lighten the mood. It was nice meeting you, Tamara. Are you okay with me hugging you?”

Tamara glanced at Hassan, who nodded. Even though she was unsure, she accepted the hug not missing the words Nadine whispered into her ear. When the two pulled away, Nadnie moved to hug her ex-husband as well. 

“Gabi wasn’t lying when she said Nadine was crazy,” Tamara mumbled, getting situated into their rental.

When therapy first started it scared Zilla much more than he cared to admit. There were so many emotions that he buried down so deep, he had no idea what his life would look like when or if they ever came up. But now more than ten sessions in with Dr. Barnes and it felt more like talking to an uncle about his issues. The emotions that had surfaced thus far didn’t affect anything negatively. Things were hard to talk about but the tools from the doctor made it easier for him. Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he actually enjoyed their sessions. So much so that he opted for two hour sessions over the previous one.

“You remember I told you about that girl at work that like me?”

“The frog eyed girl,” Dr. Barnes chuckled. “Yes, I remember you telling me about Gia. What about her?”

Zilla stretched out on the sofa, tossing one of the small balls Dr. Barnes had around up in the air. “Aight so last week I’m in class or whatever, talkin’ to Bronco and Josh.”

“Josh? The cousin that doesn’t like Fat?” Dr. Barnes asked from his relaxed position.

Zilla nodded. “Yeah him. So I’m talkin’ to both of them and I get these texts from here back to back. She had sent me videos of her ya know and then gon say it was an accident.”

“And you don’t believe it was an accident?”

Zilla stopped throwing the ball up to look at the doctor with his face frowned up. “Hell nah. She did that shit on purpose.”

“I’m just asking,” he laughed, “Keep going. Why do you think it was on purpose?”

“She make it obvious as hell that she like me, always touchin me and shit and she always messaging me on instagram tryna flirt with me.”

“Wait, she texted the videos to your phone or on instagram?”

“She texted my phone, doc.”

Dr. Barnes flipped through his notes for a second then glanced up at the younger man. “That’s strange. You told me she didn’t have your number, that her correspondence were only on instagram.”

Yeah, I know.” Zilla paused then sat up. “How the fuck she got my number?”

Dr. Barnes pointed his pen at him. “That’s the question I have. You’re sure you never gave it to her?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do no shit like that to even make her think she had a chance with me.”

“So then she must have gotten your number from somewhere. Do you think it was your cousin?” He asked.

Zilla shook his head quickly. “Nah, he don’t like Fat but he not stupid.”

“Bronco?”

“No, he answered immediately. 

“Then who do you think?”

“Don’t know, ima find out.” Zilla thought for a second, reminding himself to come back to that later. “But so I get the shit, I don’t respond or nothin’. I got my cousin on one side tellin me to delete it and act like it ain’t happen then I got B tellin me to tell Fat.”

“And what did you want to do?”

He shrugged. “Whatever was gonna keep me outta trouble with Fat. She already don’t like that girl and I don’t wanna be collateral damage in her way.”

“I get it, I know you don’t want to be in trouble but I know you know that honesty is the best answer. So what was the outcome?”

When Zilla didn’t see his girlfriend for two more days following that and she was off of night shift and when he did see her he could tell that Moriah was in no mood to hear any bad news. There were some things she was dealing with herself, things he tried to get her to talk about but she declined, so he didn’t want to add onto that.

“I ain’t said shit to her yet. She got some shit goin on and she still tryna bounce back from workin night shift.” He rubbed his hands together, falling backwards against the back of the sofa. 

Dr. Barnes wrote a few notes and hummed. “I think you know what part of your homework is. Shifting gears to Fat, how are things?”

“Things is good. We good.”

He raised a brow. “You told me after you got tattoos for Angel you planned on having sex because she mentioned the two of you had barely been doing so since the revelation of Angel and what followed. However, when it came time you couldn’t and thankfully there was an interruption before she realized.” The two men made eye contact, a bashful look on Zilla’s face. “So I’ll ask again. How are you two? Are you still having an issue?”

“It sound bad but when we got back home she was tired so I didn’t have to try then she got on night shift and we wasn’t seein each other. But I did go visit her after a show that week and we had a quickie.”

“Yeah? Good. So you think that the issue has passed then?”

Zilla shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m attracted to Fat. I think she beautiful, fine as fuck, all that.”

“But,” Dr. Barnes asked.

He shrugged. “Just every time I think about it and I remember that we ain’t get rid of my condoms cause we wanna have a baby but cause we prolly can’t have one I can’t get hard. Like the shit don’t work at all.”

Taking a moment to write a few things down, Dr. Barnes observed Zilla’s body language. He was uncomfortable but it was manageable. “What was different with the quickie? What kept you from thinking about the other situation?”

He shrugged, a sneaky smile on his face. “We was havin a conversation then she caught me off guard askin me about Gia and she got all mad and shit. And it sound toxic as hell but she fine as shit when she get mad like that. So it was a mix of how she was lookin and talkin and the fact that it caught me off guard that I ain’t have time to dwell on the other shit.”

The older man laughed heartily, “It is toxic but I get it. I was young once. So do you think if you and her discussed it and she’s okay with it, that maybe going to get an opinion from a doctor about options and possibilities would make the problem stop? That way you have an answer or at least the direction of which way things could go.”

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe.” He scratched his face, sighing deeply. “Ima have to tell her though, ain’t I? Tell her that it ain’t workin.”

“That’s up to you, Zilla. I don’t think you have to tell her right now but you do need to discuss it with her at some point.”

“But what if we get the info from the doc and ion have the problem no more?”

“Then if you want to hide that from her then that’s your prerogative.”

Zilla groaned then repeated what Dr. Barnes drilled into him the first few sessions. “But being honest is the best option unless we know it’s going to hurt the other person for no reason.”

“I’m glad you finally remembered it correctly,” he laughed, “But like I said at the end of the day the choice is yours. If it makes you feel uncomfortable or emasculated you know you can always bring her to a session and I can be here to help.”

“Got rid of her damn mama and she still affecting my damn relationship with Fat. Can’t even do the fun shit.”

“She only affects what you allow, Zilla. She planted those seeds but it's your choice as to whether they get watered or not. Understand?”

“I got you, Doc.”

“Alright, any last minute admissions you wanna make before I give you your homework?”

“Naaaah,” he laughed, “Not this time.”

“Good. Your homework is to tell Fat about what Gia did. And I’ll send you a list of OBGYN that I think will be good for you two.”

“That’s it. Nothin else? You said that was half.”

Dr. Barnes stared at him. “Would you like for me to give you more? I was tryna take it easy on you but I can give you more.”

“Nope,” Zilla replied quickly getting up, “Nope, Zilla good. Zilla appreciate you, big dog.”

After he set up his next appointment, Zilla left the office and jumped into his car headed straight home. Moriah was off, he was off and he wanted to finally spend time with her. On the way home, he grabbed lunch for them and something to cheer her up. His mind went back and forth about the erectile issue he had been having, trying to figure out if he was going to tell her and hoping the issue cleared up on his own so he wouldn’t have to.

The music that flowed through his speakers stopped and alerted him that he had a call coming through. As soon as he saw Bronco's name, he answered.

“What good witchu?”

“You busy? You outta yo session?” Bronco asked in a rushed tone.

Zilla paused to merge onto the highway. “Yeah almost home. Everything good?”

“You talked to Gia?”

“Fuck no. You know I don’t talk to that delusional ass girl.”

“You sure you ain’t text her back or no shit?”

He blew a frustrated breath. “I’m sure. I opened it when we was all standing there and that was it. I ain’t text that girl. Why you askin me that?”

“Cause that ain’t what she tellin them other girls. Apparently she told them that after she told you that it was an accident that you told her it was aight and started flirtin with her and shit.”

“Man, you know I ain’t do no shit like that. I like my fuckin life and wanna keep my head on my fuckin shoulders, B. Ion even know how that bitch got my damn number.”

The thought that Gia was spreading that lie around made his blood boil. He regretted even being nice to her outside of the PC when he knew he shouldn’t have. He could stand being co-workers with her but now she was starting to step into the waters of his relationship and he couldn’t have that. They already had enough shit against them, they didn’t need anything else.  

 “I believe you but I had to check. How you think she got your number?”

“Shit don’t know but Ima find out, I know that much.” He pulled into his parking spot beside Moriah’s car and let out an aggravated groan. “Her ass need to go away. I’m not with this bullshit and Fat ain’t either.”

Bronco spoke to his brother in the background quickly. “Ima help you figure that shit out. I gotta go help Javi, hit me up if you need me, bro.”

Getting inside their shared apartment, Zilla put their food and her gift on the coffee table then went to the bedroom in search of her. He found her lying across the bed sleep with a pile of laundry in front of her. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed one of their empty baskets and dumped the clothes in it then climbed onto the bed hovering over her. He kissed all over her face until he saw her nose scrunch and a smile.

“You had these clothes in front of you before I left, Fat,” he laughed.

“I knoooow but then Mama called and I got distracted and then I fell asleep,” she pouted. “How was your session?”

Zilla kissed her face again then got off the bed pulling her with him. “It was good, I’ll tell you about it after you tell me what’s goin on with you.”

“What do you mean I’m okay.”

“Nah, you aint. I can tell when you got something on your mind and in that fat ass head,” he joked. He pulled her out to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. “Zilla even let you sit in his lap while you tell him all about it.”

With a shake of her head, Moriah eased into his lap sitting sideways so she could look at him. His hand rubbed up and down her bare thigh, giving her his undivided attention. 

“When I brought your bag up to the performance center, I ran into Josh. He took me to where you were and I watched for a second and he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?” His nostrils flared when she nodded. “He told yall ain’t talk and he aint tell me you came back there but go head.”

“I’m sure he didn’t tell you because then he would have had to tell you what he said to me.” She huffed trying to keep herself from crying over the memory. “He was telling me to save you some hurt and break up with you to save you from my mama bitter and destructive genes.”

“He said that shit to you? Fat, why you ain’t tell me?”

“Cause I was upset and I knew if you saw me crying that you woulda beat his ass and I didn’t want you to get in trouble at work. When I left out I did run into Bronco and I talked to him. He helped me cheer up.”

Zilla started to put the pieces together in his head. It now made sense to him why his cousin didn’t tell him about their interaction, why Bronco had been giving Josh the looks that he did and why Moriah barely wanted to talk when he called to check on her that night. It was Josh. Josh had done something that Zilla was sure he said not to do. Trying to spare Josh because of their familial bond wasn’t something Zilla was interested in anymore.

“Did you hear what I said, Zay?”

His eyes snapped back up to hers. “Nah my bad. Tell me again.”

“I said don’t fight your cousin. Let’s just ignore him, please.”

He kissed her shoulder a few times. “I can’t do that. I gotta show him that I mean what I say. Ion play bout you. I gave him two chances already.”

“Zay, please. He hurt my feelings so I should be the one to decide what happens to him.”

Dropping his head to his shoulder, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. She was right and he knew it but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Fine, if that’s what you want, Fat. But this is the third chance. There won’t be another one.”

“There won’t be another one because you’re not gonna give him room to have an opinion about our relationship. Lay out your boundaries and make them clear,” she shrugged. “Yall can still be family and not talk about me.”

“He made you cry,” he huffed seeing the pout on her face, “Okay, aight boundaries and all that shit. You happy?”

“Very. Thank you, baby. And there’s one more thing I need to tell you and I’m sure you’re not gonna agree to not beat this one up.”

He raised a brow at her. “What Thomas do?”

She laughed at his reaction. “The way you already knew but I ran into him in Target after that whole thing with Josh.”

“The fuck he do to you?”

“He didn’t technically do anything to me, it’s what he said. He tried to give me this bullshit about how our careers might be in jeopardy because of the little girl who had the hernia surgery. Saying that me and him did something wrong.”

He frowned, tilting his head a bit. “You and him did something wrong? How he figure that?”

“Exactly! I told him that I didn’t do shit and whatever he did is on him. He was the one doing things when the doctor turned his back. And I feel like he’s gonna try to put me in his shit if something happens to that little girl.”

“If you want me to, I’ll go have a lil conversation with him. Make sure he don’t.” He offered softly, moving his hand from her thigh to her face. “Whatever way you want Zilla to support you, that’s what Zilla gon do. Just let me know.”

“What if I don’t know what I want? What if I just want you to do what you think is best?” She asked, meeting his gaze.

“That’s fine, Fat. We can do that, baby. Whatever you want.”

“I love you, Zay.”

“Zilla love you too.” He kissed her then grabbed his phone from his pocket passing it to her. “Unlock it and go to my messages. Its a 464 number, open that.”

Doing what he said, she went to the thread prepared to ask him what was going on. A frown took over her face as the video played. 

“Um what the fuck, Isayah? Who the hell is this?”

“The day Josh was at the PC, Gia sent me that. She claimed it was an accident but then told some other girls on the roster that I was flirtin with her.” He held her hips when she tried to get off his lap. “Chill you see that thread and you know ion want that girl. You know I only want you, Moriah.”

“How the hell that frog eyed bitch get your number anyway? She really want me to beat her ass, sending you some shit like knowing I’m not the one to play with.”

“Ion know how she got it, I’m tryna figure that out too. I can’t let you beat her ass though, I can’t do that.”

Moriah’s body jerked to turn more in his lap. “What do you mean you can’t let me? You protecting that frog eyed bitch? Do I need to beat your ass too?”

He laughed, bringing her face to his so he could kiss her. “Ain’t protectin her, I’m protectin you and your career. She look like she can’t fight so I know you gon beat her ass and she might call them people on you. My Fat too pretty to go to jail.”

“Ion care about that, she need to stop playing with me. Ima show her what happens when people play with me,” Moriah spat trying to move out of his hold. 

“Nah, nah, nah. You not finna fuck up what you worked hard to build up. You not about to let somebody that don’t matter ruin you or us. Aight?”

She rolled her eyes, obviously irritated. “I’m just supposed to let her do that?”

“Ima get that handled, don’t worry about that shit. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was goin on.” He lifted her chin when he noticed her gaze was wandering away from his.”Don’t no queen come queen come off her throne to address no peasant, baby. Let me do this. Please.”

As mad as she was, she had to admit that she liked him wanting to take care of it on his own for her and that he cared enough about her livelihood and her life even when she didn’t. The love he had for her was evident in the fact that he was so ready to go to war with her but as soon as she even thought about having her own war, he sat that aside and stepped into hers. Some parts of their story may not have been ideal but moments like this made her remember why she loved it so much.

“Okay, Zay. I’ll let you handle it.” She leaned down to kiss him then put her forehead against his. “But the next time, that bitch may not be so lucky. So she better be thankful.”

He bit his lip, his impure thoughts running rampant again. “Yes ma’am, Fat.”

A soft gasp escaped feeling the twitch against her. “Zay, really?”

“I can’t help it,” he laughed softly. “My bad.”

“Uhuh,” she laughed, “You better help it because I’m hungry.”

“I can feed you, Fat.”

“I’m hungry for food not dick, Isayah.” She laughed moving off his lap. “Stop playin so we can eat.”

Knowing this probably wouldn’t happen again later, Zilla pulled her close to him kissing up her neck. “You know I can make it quick. Real quick then you can eat.”

“Zay,” she pouted softly. “I’m hungry.”

“And so am I.” He whispered in her ear. “Zilla even let you get on top. Please, Fat.”

She turned in his arms, staring at him trying to ignore the grin on his face. “You lucky you’re cute when you beg.” 

The only Parker women allowed in Leata’s house sat around her living room, bringing happiness and peace to her already calm home. Everything with Nadine still sat in her mind but to see the kids thriving and having these ladies around her again after a long while helped her push Nadine to the back of her mind. 

“I hate to ruin the mood but you have yet to tell me what my daughter did that had you upset in Target.” Trenice said pointedly then took a sip of her tea. “And before you start your usual thing, I don’t care if she was little baby Jesus, wrong is wrong and I want you to tell me about it.”

Leata and Kamille shared a laugh. 

“After Moriah shared with me about having her tubes tied, Kamille agreed to have me over to talk to Nadine. I’ll admit I did not go over there in the best mood,” she explained.

Trenice wagged her finger. “No ma’am. You don’t need to preface it. I know how you were feeling and I understand. Keep going.”

“I just asked her straight out if that’s what she did and why she did. We went back and forth for a second and she talked about the boys father then she wished death on my baby. And I,” she paused to collect herself, “I had enough of letting her slide with her remarks and I slapped her.”

Kamille laughed. “Correction. You slapped the crap outta her. Mama, she hit the floor and everything.”

“Kamille,” the older woman admonished with a small smile, “That’s not nice. Don’t laugh. But I will say if anyone deserved it, my daughter most definitely did. You do not let anybody talk about any of your babies in that manner. She was raised better than that but when that thing gets backed into a corner, she can be as vicious as a lioness.”

“Oh trust me, I know, Trenice. But she met her match. The only reason I was letting it slide before was for Rye but now that Rye has done what she should have done years ago, I’m done as well.”

“Sometimes our absence teaches people more than our presence.” 

“Mama, that was deep,” Kamille joked. “Maybe I need to find her a man. That’ll do it. She hasn’t had one since Hassan. And that was a very long time ago.”

Leata snorted while taking a sip of her coffee. “Nadine has a man and has had one since before her and San divorced.”

Mother and daughter paused to stare at the other woman. “Repeat that for me.” Kamille said in a serious tone.

“And me as well.”

“Oh I guess she never told you guys. Too busy in Rye’s business.” Leata sassed. “She had an affair with Eddie’s cousin while she was married to Hassan. She didn’t know they were cousins, don’t know how but she didn’t at first. But that didn’t stop her.”

Trenice looked between her tea and the other women. “I’m gonna need to add some whiskey to this. Did Hassan know?”

“Not at first but when Eddie found out, he told his cousin and he told Hassan. Had the two of them meet.” She recounted, situating herself on the sofa. “As far as I know, she doesn’t know that he even knows.”

“So did the cousin stop once they met?” Kamille asked.

“For a little while, not long. The two of them kept at it and still are. He’s loved Nadine for a long time and I think in some way, she loves him too but I don’t think she would ever make it official with him.”

“Well yeah because if she did that she knows what a hypocrite she’d be for all the time she spent bad mouthing this family,” Trenice added. “Is that the real reason she stopped liking you and your family?”

“Yup, she was trying to make sure Eddie didn’t tell San but that obviously still happened.”

The room fell silent, only the low hum of the cool air blowing from the air conditioner could be heard.It probably wasn’t the best thing to share and she remembered promising Eddie that she wouldn’t tell a single soul unless Hassan told first. He was just going to have to forgive her for breaking this one promise. The way that Nadine had rained hell all over Moriah and Zilla, she deserved this and then some. There wasn’t much she could do that could match the level of treachery that Nadine imposed but getting as close to it as possible was good enough for her. 

Kamille broke the silence clearing her throat. “So tell me to mind my business but how long has it been? If you know.”

Leata counted quietly to herself. “Since Rye was about eight and she’s 26 now, so18 years.”

Both Parker women choked on their tea, sputtering and coughing. “18 years? You have got to be kidding me right now.” Trenice sat her mug aside to get herself together. “There is no way that girl cried to me about getting divorced when she spent half if not more of her marriage sleeping with another man.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” she responded matter of factly. “I think it was like a year or so that they weren’t seeing each other.”

“My head hurts,” Kamille complained. 

Trenice mumbled a bit to herself and God, trying to collect her thoughts.”When I get my hands on her she may find the sense we thought you lost. Got the nerve to be running around here tryna keep her away from your family all the while dipping into it herself.”

“Well at least we see where Rye got her taste in men from.” Kamille joked.

“I’m pretty sure I already know the answer,” Trenice sighed, “Does Rye know?”

“No, she knows nothing about it. I’m sure she doesn’t even remember meeting him.” Leata shrugged.

Kamille put her mug down on the coffee table and threw her hands up, “He met Moriah? My niece … Rye … he met her?”

“Yes ma’am,” Leata answered coolly. “Multiple times. That’s the only part Hassan doesn’t know. Before Rye was old enough to stay home alone or we would be busy and she couldn’t come over when Hassan would be out of town and they had plans, Nadine took Rye along with her.”

“And so what … she was just sitting around waiting on them to finish?” Kamille asked, bewildered by her sister’s actions.

Leata shrugged. “If he had his daughter then they would play together while her and him were in the other room. If she didn’t, she would play and watch TV. He always bought toys and things for her so there was always something.”

“Wow. Just wow.” Kamille scoffed. “I can’t believe her. It’s one thing to cheat on your husband 

but it’s another to take your kid with you and introduce them to your affair partner.”

Trenice sat quietly drowning out her daughter and Leata. She started to think back trying to remember if there was anything she missed or overlooked with Nadine. Anything that was said or done that wasn’t quite right but she let it slide at the time. That daughter of hers had ways about her that had been lying dormant clearly waiting for the right opportunity to slip out. Trenice massaged her temple trying to will the oncoming migraine. 

“Mama, you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just … a lot to process. It’s like I don’t even know this girl that I carried and birthed. The older she gets, the more I find out about her and I don’t like it.”

Kamille rubbed her mother’s back. “I know, Mama. I feel the same way.”

“Please don’t stress yourself out, Trenice. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just thought after all this time you guys should know what’s going on.” Leata sat her mug down and stood from the sofa. “I’ll get you some advil, stretch out on the sofa if you need to.”

Kamille helped her mother lay back on the sofa, she kneeled beside her on the floor and brushed her hair back from her face. “Mama, you been taking your medicine?”

“Of course, I have. I don’t miss a day and if I did you know your daddy would have a fit if I didn’t.” Trenice chuckled. “I’m alright, you worry too much.”

“That may be true but so what? You my mama and I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Disguised as an early run before heading to work, Bronco and Zilla rode out together in the latter’s blacked out mustang. The car cruised through the still dark, early morning streets. When Zilla called his friend the night before while Moriah was showering, Bronco was immediately down for whatever moves needed to be made and used a few of his connections in the city to find Thomas’ address. Draped in all black they approached the small townhouse, taking notice of his lack of cameras and security as his yard was missing the ‘ADT’ sign that all his other neighbors had. He was living in a false sense of security or he couldn’t afford it and that would be his downfall.

Bronco knocked on the door, careful not to bang too hard and scare him then both men stepped out of range for the peephole. He was getting ready for work so it would be an easy trip. As soon as the door opened, Bronco pushed the smaller man back into the house and followed him in with Zilla right behind, closing the door behind them.

“What the … look I don’t have any money.” Thomas offered, stumbling back. “Just take whatever you want and leave.” He was visibly shaken and scared. He trembled slightly at the two men hovering over him. 

“I thought we talked about this, Dr. Gardner.” Zilla spoke softly as he flipped on the nearest light switch. He smiled when he saw the recognition on Thomas’ face. “Did we not?”

“I’m calling the police!” He tried to move around Bronco but was snatched back and tossed onto his sofa, he landed with an audible grunt. “I haven’t done anything to her! Why are you here?” He attempted to get up but one buck from Bronco and he was backing down.

“Man, sit yo ass back and shut up. Always runnin yo damn mouth, that’s why you can’t follow directions.” Bronco barked.

“The lil girl you mentioned to Fat when you saw her in Target. That shit sound familiar?” Zilla asked, moving closer to him.

Thomas extended his hands in surrender. “Listen, I was trying to warn her. I didn’t want her to be blindsided in the event something happened to the little girl.”

 Zilla stared at him. “Warn her for what? What she had to do with that?”

“She was in the surgery with me. I saw her.”

“You seen sis do what?” Bronco asked, moving closer.

Thomas stuttered, scooting to the other end of the sofa. “I saw her when the doctor turned his back.” As Thomas was continuing his rebuttal, the back of Zilla’s hand connected with his mouth. He cried out in pain, holding his bleeding mouth. 

Zilla grabbed him by his shirt, bringing him up from the sofa, eye level to him. “You think she stupid or some shit? You think she ain’t gon remember what she did and didn’t do in that surgery?”

“I didn’t say that,” he struggled in the larger man’s grip. “I didn’t.”

“That’s what the fuck it sound like to me,” Zilla grunted, still holding on to him. “Or you think she gon lie for you?” Yeah, that’s what you think.”

Throwing the man down to the floor, Zilla and Bronco took turns kicking him in his sides ignoring the shouts of protest. The beatdown lasted for at least five minutes before Bronco snatched him up from the floor again, making him stand up. They smiled now, able to see the extent of their handy work. Thomas wobbled, holding his sides whimpering softly. 

“If something happen to that lil girl and Fat get in that shit, that hospital gon be down a med student. Feel me?” Zilla asked, staring straight into his eyes.

Thomas nodded, wincing slightly. “I hear you.”

“And you know we ain’t shit to play with,” Bronco added. “We was nice to yo ass this time, next time we won’t be. Comprende?”

Zilla started to walk away but circled back, shaking his finger in Thomas’ direction. “I know I prolly don’t needa say this but our talk stays between us.”

“Okay, okay, just leave.”

Bronco snarled at him. “Aye, mind ya manners. Rude ass.”

The friends walked out the door, closing it behind them leaving Thomas to collect himself. He crumpled down onto the sofa, gingerly checking his mouth then his ribs. Leaning his head back on the sofa, he started to wish he never got himself involved in any of it. Although he liked Moriah and thought she was beautiful, she was not worth all of the pain and turmoil she had come with. 

“Somebody help her! Please help my daughter!”

Hearing the yells from the waiting room, Moriah and Toni rushed out to see what was going on. Mrs. Jones stood in the middle of the room with her daughter cradled in her arms who had tears streaming down her face. Moriah rushed to her, taking Nia from her gently. 

“What happened?” Moriah asked, leading them into a bay with an empty bed. 

Mrs.Jones wiped at her eyes and nose. “We were at my mom’s house and she was playing with her cousins and then she started screaming and holding her stomach. She kept saying that it hurt.”

Moriah started to check her out, comforting her as much as she could. “I know, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Does it hurt when I press your tummy?”

Nia nodded, tears still streaming. “Yes.”

“Okay, sweetie. Mom, did she vomit?”

“Yeah, she did. She vomited on the floor there and in the car.” Mrs. Jones answered, keeping her eyes on her daughter.

Moriah and Toni made eye contact, then looked down at Nia who started to convulse. “I got her, T. I got it.”

“I’ll go page Dr.Harris!”

“Mrs. Jones, I got her, I promise.” Moriah assured as calmly as she could while trying to stabilize Nia. “Where’s your husband?”

“He’s …. He’s um he’s at work.” She stuttered out.

“Okay, why don’t you go step out and call him? I’m sure he wants to know what’s going on.” Moriah suggested.

“I don’t wanna leave her. What if she needs me?”

Moriah gave her a sympathetic smile. “I promise I will take care of her while you’re gone. And if she asks for you while you’re out, I will come get you. Okay?”

Reluctantly, Mrs. Jones agreed, just as she was stepping out of the bay Dr. Harris and Toni stepped back in. Both sanitizing their hands then donning gloves then moved to the opposite side of the bed. 

“How long has she’s been seizing?” He asked.

“At least three minutes. Her mom said she started to complain of intense stomach pain, she vomited twice and from what I can feel by touching her, she’s got a fever.” Moriah rattled off.

Nia’s body finally stopped convulsing and she laid out, shallow breathing and barely conscious. Dr. Harris rubbed her cheek gingerly, trying to coax her awake. “Hey, little bit. Open your eyes for me,” he demanded gently. “Let’s see those brown eyes, girl.”

Her eyes fluttered bringing a small smile to their faces.

“There she is,” Moriah cooed. “Can you keep em open for us?”

She tried to keep them open then reached for her stomach, cradling it in pain and crying. “It hurts! It hurts!”

“I know, little bit. I have to touch your stomach so I can try and help. It might hurt a little.” Dr. Harris nodded for Moriah and Toni to help stretch her back out. He lifted her shirt and as gently as he could pressed around her belly button and abdomen. “I’m sorry, almost done. Did you do a check, Nurse DeBreaux?”

“Yes sir.”

“What did you feel?” He asked, now moving to listen to her heart.  

“Like a big, hard knot.”

Dr. Harris went quiet for a moment then told Toni what pain medicine to give Nia. He motioned for Moriah to join him outside the bay. He closed the sliding door to the bay, his hands going to his hips as frustration plagued his face. 

“I know you’re not a doctor but I wanna hear what you think that is.” 

Moriah bit her lip, slightly nervous to offer her own medical opinion. “Bowel obstruction or rupture I think.”

Dr. Harris nodded. “Caused by?”

She shrugged. “Either the hernia came back or something went wrong during surgery.”

“Something went wrong with surgery,” he repeated, staring down at her. “Do you know what?”

“I don’t know exactly what and I did not do it.” She answered quickly.

He hummed, glancing back in the room at the little girl. “But you saw something?”

“Yes. Me and a few other nurses as well.”

It was unusual to see Dr. Harris do anything but smile, it unsettled Moriah even though she knew she wasn’t to blame for it. He took a moment to take a few deep breaths and think on his next move.

“I need blood work, x-rays and a cat scan immediately. Take her now then take her to the pediatric ICU, I’ll meet you there.” Dr. Harris ordered. “I’m gonna go find Dr. Miller and Dr. Gardner. We’re gonna fix her up and then we’re getting to the bottom of everything.”

“Yes sir.”

The four adults stood in front of the scans and x-rays pretty much understanding the severity of the situation. There was a rupture in her bowels which led to the pain Nia was having. Dr. Miller stared a hole in the side of Thomas’ face while Dr. Harris wasn’t looking and Moriah looked everywhere but at him.

“You see that there? The two inch line?” Dr. Harris asked, pointing to the x-ray. “That is a rupture. I won’t know if it was man made or her body did it while recovering but I’ll know when I open her up to repair it.” The others stood quietly listening to him, not really sure of what to say back. “Miller and Nurse DeBreaux, you’re coming into surgery with me. Gardner, you’re watching from the booth. I don’t know what happened the last time that little girl was on my table but you can bet your asses I’m gonna find out.”

“Yes sir,” they all mumbled together. 

“Miller, come with me so we can talk to the parents.” Dr. Harris ordered. “Nurse DeBreaux, let them know to get my OR ready for me, please.”

With that, Dr. Harris and Dr. Miller walked off leaving Moriah and Thomas. She scoffed when he attempted to move closer to her. She put her hand up, pushing him in his chest away from her noticing the slight hiss. 

“Get your dumbass away from me, Thomas.”

“We could be in a lot of trouble and you’re still not wanting to stick together. I get you don’t like me but we need to be a united front.” He spat harshly.

Moriah chuckled, now taking in his appearance, she raised her brow. “I see you got a visit from my man and you still tryna put this on me. You gotta be stupid as hell. I had nothing to do with that and you know it.”

“I was assaulted, it’s not funny. You’re in it as much as I am.”

Moriah poked her lip out then laughed. “You got your ass beat for trying me and you’re gonna get your ass beat again when I tell him that you still trying me. The only thing I’m guilty of is not saying something sooner but I didn’t think you were stupid and careless enough to do this.” He growled under his breath then lashed out moving closer to her.

“Stop calling me stupid! I’m not stupid!”  

She stared at him unmoved. “Don’t get your ass beat in here, Thomas. Stop yelling at me and back the hell up.”

“No, I’m tired of your ungrateful ass,” he yelled, pointing in her face. “I do all this to try and show you that I’m a better guy than that felon, that I can treat you better and take care of you and this is what I get? Fucking attitude.”

“Nobody asked you for any of that. I asked you to stay away from me,” she spat smacking his finger out of her face, “You better watch your tone. Don’t be mad at me because you fucked up. You better hope her body did that and not you or you’ll be a felon too.”

Thomas brought his hands up as if he wanted to choke her, she kept her eyes on him daring him to do so. Giving up, he let out a loud groan and walked off. Just one more thing to tell Zilla or maybe she would handle this one on her own but whatever the decision is was going to have to wait. She had a job to do. 

Thomas paced back and forth watching Nia’s surgery in the overhead booth. He prayed that the rupture was something her body did and that she would make it through without any lingering side effects. 

“Uuuh, Dr. Harris, her blood pressure is dropping rapidly.”

Dr. Harris glanced at the nurse that came from then at her vitals. “I’m almost done, just need a few more minutes.”

Moriah took a look at her vitals, the numbers made her heart drop to her stomach. “I don’t think she has a few more minutes, Dr. Harris.”

“She’s a strong girl. She can make it, she can do it. Right, little bit?” He encouraged trying to work as quickly and efficiently as he could. Dr. Miller remained quiet as he helped his mentor. “Just a few more minutes, a few more and she’ll be good as new.”

“Her heart rate is dropping,” the nurse called out in a slight panic. 

“I think her body is going into shock,” Moriah added, trying to do what she could.

Dr. Harris continued to work, praying he did what he needed to do before the unthinkable happened. He had to drown out the nurse continuing to rattle off Nia’s numbers so he could focus.

“She’s in distress,” Dr. Miller called out just as she flatlined.

The team worked for eight minutes trying to get her heart started to no avail while Thomas watched helplessly, biting away at his fingernails. The operating room went silent, all eyes on her lifeless little body open on the table. There wasn’t one dry eye in the room but none of the tears fell. Dr. Harris snatched his mask and protective gear off, tossing it to the side cursing under his breath.

“Miller, close her up, please. I gotta,” he paused to clear his throat, “I gotta go talk to her parents.”

Moriah spoke up, going over to him. “I’ll go with you, Dr. Harris.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. But just let me do all the talking.”

Getting to the room Nia was occupying, they stepped in allowing the door to shut behind themselves. Nia’s parents stood from their seats immediately, they held onto each other trying to read the facial expressions.

“The rupture and the leak had been going on far too long and got into her blood as well as some organs, caused a bit of tissue death,” Dr. Harris explained in a soothing voice. “Dr. Miller and I were trying to do as much clean up and repair as we could but her body went into shock before we could complete it. Her heart stopped on the table and we weren’t able to get it back. I’m so sorry.”

Her mother let out a scream that brought tears down their faces and echoed in their heads. Mr. Jones held his wife against him, trying to keep her from hitting the floor. His own tears spilled over.”

“What? What does that mean?” He asked in a froggy voice.

Dr. Harris cleared his throat, thumbing away the tears on his face. “Nia didn’t make it, Mr. Jones. She died during surgery.”

The screams grew louder from Mrs. Jones, Moriah attempted to help Mr. Jones console her only to be pushed away. Dr. Harris put his hands on Moriah's shoulders, turning her towards the door. He offered one more set of condolences before guiding them out of the room. 

“Was that your first time?” He asked softly, sighing when she nodded. “Go home. Get your stuff, go home. Do you think you can drive?”

Moriah nodded, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t have to leave. I can stay.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, offering her a small smile. “You’re not okay. Go home, Moriah.”

Not wanting to argue knowing he was right, Moriah went back down to the ER to grab her stuff. Toni called her several times but she was so zoned out she didn't hear her prompting Toni to follow her into the employee lounge. Moriah jumped, feeling the hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just me, It’s just me.” She assured softly, now noticing the tears in her eyes and on her face. “Why the tears? What’s going on? Did Thomas do something?” Moriah shook her head and hugged Toni, laying her head on the older woman’s chest. “Okay not Thomas. It’s Nia? Did her surgery not go good?”

“No,” Moriah croaked. “She died.”

Toni held her tight, rubbing her back and her head. “Oh, babygirl. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. Are you going home?” Moriah nodded against her. “Okay, You can’t drive. I’ll take you.”

“You don’t–,” she sniffled. “You don’t have to. I can do it.”

“So you can crash cause you can’t see? No ma’am." She chastised. “They will be okay without me for an hour. I’ll have the boys pick me back up. I got your stuff, come on.”

[hbyrde36]

Honey, You're Familiar

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild Hozier Project

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

WC limit: 3000 | Song prompt: From Eden by Hozier

Rating: G | WC: 2998 | also on ao3

Steve and Eddie had been best friends since The Beginning. 

From the moment angels were blinked into existence, in a flurry of wide powerful wings and otherworldly beauty, they were inseparable, happy, right up until God made something new. 

Humans.

Curious creatures with souls and hearts capable of a full spectrum of emotions, given the one thing angels had been denied. 

Free will. 

Eddie hated them. Part of their job as angels was to watch over these new creations, but the more they watched, the more withdrawn Eddie became. 

He claimed God favored them, these beings who hardly knew of divine existence and whose lifespans were so short they barely mattered in the grand scheme of things. Steve disagreed, arguing that God didn’t play favorites, and surely, even if They did, the angels who’d been gifted with power and immortality were the preferred children. 

They debated about it– a lot, until friendly arguments turned into shouting matches. 

Was this anger?

This unpleasant thing that served no purpose except to make Eddie fly away from him in a huff. Was it sorrow that made his friend’s eyes shimmer, his lips turn down in that awful way? 

Eddie was changing, and Steve didn’t know what to do. He much preferred the days when they could laugh and smile together. It always left him feeling warm inside.

“You envy them.” Steve accused one day when Eddie was especially prickly. “Why? Is it not enough to be as you are and live here in Heaven with God? With me?”

“No! It’s not enough!” 

Eddie’s hands wound into his own hair and pulled, as if he’d tear it out from the root. “Why do they get the freedom to form such relationships? Why do they get to have it, and I don’t?!”

Steve tilted his head, perplexed. “To have what?”

“Love!”

“But, you do.” Steve said, still not understanding. “God loves us, and we love Them.”

Eddie sighed mournfully, all the fight draining out of him at once. “It’s not their love I ache for, Steve.”

It was no surprise when Eddie sided with Lucifer in the war and consequently fell from Heaven. Steve was there when it happened, forced to bear witness to the first and greatest loss he’d ever known. 

He was… sad, when Eddie was gone. 

Steve tried to pretend otherwise, but whenever he was alone and he thought of how he would never see his friend again, his eyes leaked and he would feel a terrible pain in his chest. 

Was he broken? 

He hadn’t thought angels were capable of such sentiments, but that couldn’t be true. Eddie’d had these things, feelings. They were what led him on his doomed path.

It was possible, it just wasn’t allowed.

He did his best to go on as before. It was difficult, nearly impossible sometimes, but it all became easier when a new flock of angels was made to replace their numbers, and Robin came barreling into his life. 

Part of him wanted to resist, to keep the space next to him forever empty, preserving the memory of who’d been there before, but he’d been alone for so long. 

Robin grew on him, and they quickly became close. While she could never replace Eddie, their friendship went a long way in filling the hole losing him had left behind. 

They complimented each other well. Where Steve was quiet and contemplative these days, Robin talked almost constantly. Not one to sit in silence, she always preferred to fill it. 

Just like Eddie. 

They were quite alike actually, Eddie and Robin. Steve couldn't help thinking that if they’d ever met they would’ve become fast friends, or killed one another. 

Things were ok for a while, Steve managed, until he was sent to Earth for the first time. He begged Robin to come along, nervous to walk amongst the humans when he’d only ever watched from afar, but she wasn’t allowed. 

Guardian angel for a day. An easy job, mostly watching and waiting, ensuring his charge remained safe. In all likelihood, he wouldn’t even be needed. 

The human in question was a kind older man, who ran a small coffee counter in a park, in a city Steve couldn't remember the name of. He ordered a drink and took a seat, doing his best to go unnoticed.

He observed much over the course of the day. Joyous reunions and somber goodbyes. First kisses and last kisses, and not one but two chance meetings where sparks flew. It was a magical thing to see someone find their soulmate. 

Steve returned to Heaven with a heavy heart. 

It'd been a very long time since their last conversation, but he could still hear Eddie’s voice… how resigned it had sounded, how devastated, when he’d looked at him and said “It’s not their love I ache for.” 

Finally, he got it. Eddie had loved him. 

Steve loved Eddie too, though he hadn’t realized it back then, so caught up in what they were supposed to be. He’d witnessed it up close now, love. Recognized it and the power it held, even as it made the wielder feel powerless. 

It was agony. 

Unable to hold it in anymore, he told Robin. 

It was probably the most words he’d ever said to her at once. He didn’t mention Eddie’s name, or admit whether the object of his desire was angel or otherwise. He didn’t want to rebel, but he couldn’t continue on as if nothing had changed. Couldn’t live the lie anymore. He was supposed to love only God, and it simply wasn’t true. 

Robin said he should talk to God, convinced that They had grown softer since the fall. Steve wasn’t so sure about that but he trusted her, and had little choice.

Thankfully, she’d been right. God was understanding, in Their way, and not wishing to see Steve so unhappy decided to gift him– a chance.   

He didn’t know what it meant, and that was as ominous as it was thrilling. It had felt a little too easy, in the end. All he knew was he was bound for earth, and as he prepared for the journey he could only wonder what the catch would be.

Steve woke up feeling like he’d been having the strangest dream. He couldn't recall the details apart from a beautiful boy’s face framed in soft dark curls, but wasn’t that always the way? 

He hopped out of bed with a spring in his step. It was a big day, the grand opening of his and Robin’s new coffee shop and he couldn't wait to greet their first customers.

Eddie cut ties with Lucifer shortly after the fall, uninterested in trading one leader demanding blind faith and allegiance for another. 

He was still a demon, technically, as were all who fell, but although he hated humans, he had no desire to harm them. 

He wasn’t evil, he was angry. 

At them, at God, even Steve, but mostly at himself. 

He’d let his feelings overtake his sense, and in his effort to fight for more he’d somehow wound up with less, only managing to get himself banished– sent as far away from the one he loved as it was possible to be. 

Eddie didn’t spend much time on Earth, still too bitter. He wasn’t exactly welcome in Hell either, but over the years had found his fair share of quiet corners to inhabit. 

He kept in touch with some others who’d also refused to follow Lucifer as he made the transition from fallen angel to Devil. Gareth, Jeff, and Grant. They became friends, of a sort. Kept an eye on eachother, gave warnings of trouble on the horizon, and a heads up about other interesting goings-on.

Which was how Eddie found out about the first time Steve set foot on earth. 

He’d gotten rip-roaring drunk once, on a rare night where all the boys were together in one place, and spilled his guts about Steve.They teased him a little, but only in good fun. They’d had their own motivations for taking up the cause and agreed love was as good a reason as any.

When Gareth came by to say an angel had been spotted in Central Park who bared a striking resemblance to his Steve, Eddie panicked. He’d been existing as if he’d never see the angel again, because he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t, and spent many long years pushing it all down, pretending he didn’t care anymore because it was the only way he could function.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to the surface, his heart becoming a gaping wound, open to the world all over again. 

He wanted to go to him, of course he did, but it’d been eons since they last spoke. Would Steve want to see him? Would he care? Even if he did, what would it matter? 

It would change nothing.

Deciding it would be more painful to see him now and lose him all over again than to never see him at all, Eddie buried his head in the sand. By the time it hit him that regardless of the pain he’d regret not going forever, it was too late. Steve was gone, nothing but an empty cup of coffee on a table to prove he’d been there at all. 

When fate conspired only days later to give Eddie a second chance, he knew he couldn’t waste it.

He’d gotten an address from Jeff and had to huff a laugh when he spotted the place. A cute little indie coffee shop. Was Steve the fucking coffee fairy now or something?

The front of the cafe was a wall of windows, and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat as he spotted Steve through the glass. He froze with his hand on the door, unsure if he was ready to face whatever was about to happen. 

Steve stood behind the counter next to a girl with a mischievous smile, laughing raucously at something she’d said. His eyes shone bright, and he was as beautiful as Eddie remembered– though he did miss the way his wings had framed his body. A pity angels weren't allowed to use them down here. 

Just when Eddie was building his resolve to finally go inside, Steve turned and their eyes met. The angel’s smile fell, mouth twisting into a curious expression, a wrinkle forming between his brows. 

He’d been prepared for a number of reactions, for Steve to be happy to see him, or angry and hating him, but he was wholly unprepared for Steve to look at him like that– as if he didn’t know him at all.

Eddie fled.

He didn’t run far, taking refuge in an alleyway across from the shop, well-versed in hiding in the shadows by now. 

He watched for days, unable to leave while Steve was near, but just as unable to approach him again.

In the evenings he would follow Steve home, never knowing where the girl went. Robin, as her name tag said. One second she'd be there and the next, poof, but Steve always walked to a small apartment where he’d spend the night hours alone before leaving again early the next morning.

What was he doing?

Who was his charge? 

Eddie had assumed it was Robin but the more he observed the more convinced he became that she was an angel too. 

None of it made sense. 

It all came to a head one night when he was lurking in his spot waiting for Steve to walk by, and found himself getting bodily thrown into a brick wall. A figure stepped into him, her small hand strong and firm around his throat, skin glowing ever-so-slightly with heavenly power.

Eddie raised his hands in the universal gesture for, I come in peace, and finally Robin let him go.

“What do you want, Demon?”

“I prefer Eddie, actually.”

She smirked, raising a single eyebrow. “Eddie the demon? What, you didn't want to come up with some fancy new name like all your buddies?”

They weren’t his buddies, not the demons she was referring too anyway, but she wasn't likely to believe that.

“Never been one for conformity, I guess.” Eddie grinned, stifling a laugh.

Understatement.

“Seriously, why are you watching him? What are you planning?”

“Nothing, just… looking in on an old friend. I swear.”

“Sure, you and Steve used to be friends. I’m supposed to believe you're not here to ruin his chance, attacking an old ally turned enemy now that he’s vulnerable?”

“What do you mean?”

She narrowed her eyes, considering him carefully.

“You actually don’t know, do you?” She backed away, looking him up and down. “You came to the door that first day, but never came inside. Why?”

“The way he looked, I… don’t think he remembered me.”

She snorted a laugh. 

Which Eddie did not appreciate. “Jeez, way to kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Sorry.” She said, not sorry at all. “Look, it’s nothing personal. He doesn’t remember anything. He’s human now.”

“What?! Why?”

Robin shrugged. “He wanted more. He loved another before God and They took mercy on him, sent him here for a chance at a different life.”

“Who?” Eddie gasped, reeling.

“Who, what?”

“Who did he love enough to leave Heaven for?”

“What do you care?!” She sneered, throwing her hands up. “Y’know what? Don’t answer that, It doesn’t matter. Not even I know who it is, and I'm his best friend.”

Best friend.

Eddie deflated. Had Steve replaced him so easily?

Robin plowed ahead, either unknowing or uncaring of the pain she was inflicting. “I know your kind. You’re bad news. If you really were friends before, if you ever cared about him, you’ll leave him alone.”

Eddie tried to go back to his life, such as it was. He wandered the underworld aimlessly, plagued by thoughts of Steve.

Was it Eddie… that he loved?

Was he okay? Was he happy? Was he safe? He was so vulnerable now– to sickness, and injury. Shit, humans dropped dead from heart attacks all the time!

Eddie could deal with it before, knowing he was out there somewhere, even if they couldn’t be together. But now… now Steve would grow old and die one day, and he couldn’t take that.

The idea of living forever in a world where Steve no longer existed was intolerable.

He went to Lucifer.

It was a long shot, he knew. He’d abandoned his de facto leader long ago, but back in the war Lucifer had been fond of him and Eddie hoped against hope that their history would help his case now. 

The former angel all but laughed in his face. He held no such power, not that he would ever grant Eddie’s wish if he did. 

“What a waste that would be,” the Devil had said, still holding out hope that someday Eddie would break and join him. 

Desperate, he returned to the coffee shop, taking up his old post, and waited for Robin to confront him.

As she stalked angrily into the alley, he hurried to explain. 

“I know what you’re going to say, but hear me out. I love him, Robin, always have. That’s why I fell. I was outraged at being denied this thing that humans were given freely to take for granted.” 

She pursed her lips. 

“You don’t believe me.”

Robin sighed heavily. “I can’t believe I'm saying this, but I do, actually.”

“Really?”

She pulled a scrap of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.

Eddie unfolded it with shaking hands, a perfect sketch of his face.

“I found this, along with several others. Apparently he’s been drawing them for weeks. Somehow, deep down, he remembers you.”

Tears poured down his face as he continued to stare at the proof of Steve’s feelings for him.

“Why did you come back here?” She asked.

“To beg you to take a request to God, plead my case… please.” 

“What for?”

“To make me human too.”

“Are you sure? If They agree to it you’ll be just like him, vulnerable, with no memory of who you were.”

“I know. I’ll just have to trust that we’ll find each other again.”

Eddie woke up feeling like he’d been having the strangest dream. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, rent was due soon and he still hadn’t found a job.

He set out for the corner store to pick up a newspaper and found himself drawn to an adorable little coffee shop along the way with a help wanted sign out front. He knew the prices at a place like that were well out of his budget, but one look at the beautiful man behind the counter was enough to have him thinking– screw the budget. 

Besides, it couldn’t hurt to put in an application, even if he had no experience as a barista.

The man looked up as Eddie entered the empty shop, and their eyes met. There was something familiar about him. The man paled, eyes going wide. It was a curious reaction, but Steve, as his nametag read, shook it off quickly and forced a smile. 

“Good Morning, what can I get you?”

Gorgeous and the voice of an angel? Eddie was half in love already. 

He ordered the cheapest thing on the menu, a drip coffee, which Steve poured with shaking hands, cursing as a little of the hot liquid sloshed over the cup’s side, burning him. 

“You okay?”

Steve turned, offering his first real smile, laughing at himself as he shook his head.

Without a word he reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a small sketchbook, sliding it across the counter. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think I've been dreaming about you.”

Steve showed him then, page after page filled with drawings of Eddie's face. 

Eddie’s stomach flipped, suddenly realizing why Steve had looked so familiar. “I think I've been dreaming about you, too.”

As always, all my love and thanks to @penny00dreadful beloved friend and beta.

Also to @hitlikehammers and @theheadlessphilosopher for listening to me talk about this and reading it through as I attempted to parse this down from 3400 words to it's current form.

Some tags of those I recall expressing interest or i think might like this? (sorry if i miss anyone or if you didn't want to be tagged!): @griefabyss69 @pearynice @eriquin @cranberrymoons @momotonescreaming @kikidoesfanfic @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @mentallyundone @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @vegasol