#didn't mean to split the chapter but it all would have been too long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 7 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.”

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.

But is this really any better?

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are.

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick.

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.

“May I have this dance?”

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

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

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bahablastplz · 2 months ago

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All in | Chapter 14

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: You try to make amends with Seungmin. Chan wants to meet with both you and Felix.

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings.

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

<< previous ♡ next >>

Felix shakes you awake in the early morning to let you know he’s leaving. You want him to stay just a little longer, to relish in his warmth, but you know it’s too risky to actually be caught in bed with him. He gives you a kiss on the forehead and you find yourself smiling as he shuts the door behind him. He invites you to train after breakfast, with both him and Changbin this time. You don’t downright decline his offer but you tell him there’s something you need to do first.

Seungmin’s absence at breakfast is notable. The tension is in fact palpable and you find it gnawing away at your insides. You know deep down nobody here actually blames you for what happens (except maybe Seungmin), but you still can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.

Felix knew where you were going after breakfast before you even told him. You weren’t surprised by this. Still, at 10 a.m. you knock on what you know to be Seungmin’s room. You pick at the split-end strands of hair while you wait for a response. It’s Jeongin who answers the door.

He lets you in wordlessly. You wonder if Seungmin would have done the same.

You stare at his sleeping frame on his mattress. You can tell these sheets are fresh because the ones stained in blood sit in a heap in the corner of his room. When he’s sleeping like this he looks awfully young for his age. You can’t help feeling sorry for him, for all of them really, having experienced way more than a lifetime of trauma. You’re reminded that he’s human, that you’re all human, but Seungmin in particular is just trying his best to get by. Surely, things were smooth before you’d arrived and you’ve just become a hindrance.

You almost think for a moment that maybe you should have brought flowers and you nearly laugh. Would you have picked them from the backyard? Re-purposed the ones Chan gave you for your date? That probably would have been rude. Seungmin doesn’t seem the kind to appreciate the gesture behind giving flowers, at the moment.

“He’s not mad at you, you know,” Jeongin says. You suppose you had been staring at Seungmin just a bit too long, not saying anything. You let out a half-hearted laugh at his words. “No, I know,” he starts, running his hands through his hair. “I mean it though. The aggression, the anger, it’s not you it’s really directed at.”

You mull over his words. “Felix said the same thing yesterday.” Jeongin gives you a sad smile, looking up at the ceiling.

“He’s not the only one upset with Chan,” he says finally. “I think we all are, in our own ways.”

“You’re angry at Chan?” you ask quietly.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says quickly, almost defensive. “I… I don’t know that I’m allowed to say that. If I’m allowed to be angry at him. It’s just, I… we all owe him so much, you know?”

You swallow thickly at his words. “That sort of sounds like a toxic relationship to me, don’t you think?” you joke. It’s not a joke.

Jeongin doesn’t look at you. He just smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Did he promise you something too?” you ask, walking a little bit closer to him. You’re worried if you pry too much, he’ll close up and not reveal anything else to you.

“You don’t… you don’t know the whole story,” he explains.

“I don’t,” you confirm. “But I know that something’s not right. I know you could probably be doing something so much more. You have passions, desires, dreams…”

“I can’t get there on my own.” He’s justifying it, whether to you or himself, you’re unsure.

“Jeongin, what did he promise you?” you ask him finally.

“He’d pay for my school,” he tells you, finally making eye contact. “He would pay for my fashion school in full. I can’t afford it without him, without this.” Your heart sinks in your chest. You wonder how long Chan has been holding that over him for. You don’t get a chance to respond, however, because another voice interrupts you.

“Y/N?” Seungmin asks groggily. He seems to have just woken up, but he’s definitely still a little bit out of it.

“Hey,” you say, walking to the side of his bed. He reaches his hand out for you and it takes you by surprise. You tentatively accept his reach, intertwining your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, voice raspy. Out of all things, you were not expecting this. This is not the same Seungmin who screamed bloody murder last night, who had to get dragged out of the room because he was in hysterics. This is the Seungmin you have come to know.

“Don’t be,” you console. “It was a perfectly justifiable reaction. I’m sorry, really. I hope you get better soon.”

He squeezes your hand before letting it go. He really, truly seems remorseful for last night. You’re unsure if he has anything to apologize for. You probably would have done the same.

“Seungmin, you want meds?” Jeongin asks, shaking a little orange pill bottle. Seungmin takes the bottle, dry swallowing two blue pills. You don’t want to know what it is.

“He’s going to be a little out of it,” Jeongin tells you. “You’re probably good to go.” You wave to Seungmin, wishing him well before you leave the room. You shut the door behind you, taking a deep breath. You feel better now that you have a little more closure. It went better than you thought it would.

You meet Changbin and Felix in the training room shortly after. You’re flipped onto your back more times than you can count during self-defense training, and though you’re slightly frustrated you can’t help but notice your own improvement. Even though you’re defeated, it takes a lot longer to get you there. You can get in a few hits, and you’re doing better at blocking and reading their hits.

You have shooting practice with Jisung after. It goes… a little less smooth, admittedly. But you can’t help but feel like you’ve become a force to be reckoned with. You’re not the same, easily threatened girl that showed up a month ago, beaten close to death. You’re not the same girl that Woojin dared to mess with, and you’re certainly not the same girl that you were before you were in captivity and watched Jungwon die. You’re confident–you’re different. You’re glad you accepted Felix’s help after all.

And so that night you drag Felix into your room after dinner. You can’t keep your hands off of him. You’re not sure what has gotten into you, but the two of you rush. Clothes are discarded without a second thought, and when hands roam each other's bodies it’s fast, hard, for quick pleasure rather than explorative or sensual.

Felix licks onto your neck and you need to remind him not to suck; you can’t risk him leaving a mark. When his hand finds your center you’re already soaking, bucking your hips desperately into his hand.

He’s quick to bend you over your mattress and fuck you from behind. His hands cup your breasts, using them as leverage when he snaps his hips into yours. You’re surprised how quiet he is–he’s usually the talkative type, but it seems you both have one thing in mind.

Your release comes fast and his follows. He helps you dress, look presentable again. He sits on your bed and you sit next to him, your head resting on his shoulder. You play with his fingers, running your fingertips up and down his calloused hands. You’re not sure why it feels so different this time, why there’s a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Why neither of you are talking.

Then the knock comes.

It’s as if you had both expected it before it happened, like you had a sixth sense for being interrupted in these quiet moments with one another.

It’s not Minho you’re expecting. But it’s the news he brings that you are.

“Chan wants to see you.”

“I’ve been summoned,” you say, cracking an anxious smile at Felix as you make to leave your room.

“Actually, he wants to see both of you.” Oh. Oh. That you were not expecting. Felix seems perplexed by this news as well, and the two of you walk to Chan’s office in silence.

When you open the door, Chan is standing with his arms crossed across his chest. It makes you nervous, immediately thinking that he knows. He knows about you and Felix and something bad is about to happen, you’re sure of it. But once again, your intuition proves you wrong.

“Sit,” Chan urges.

You do.

“I wanted to check in with you, Y/N, after what happened last night,” he starts, still not sitting.

“Oh, um, it’s okay, really. Everything’s alright now.” You smooth your hands out on your lap, torn between making eye contact and staring at the floor. You choose to meet his gaze despite the way it unnerves you.

“I’m glad to hear that.” he clears his throat. “As you now know, Heeseung has been making efforts to move forward against SKZ. He has been pushing with some more aggressive tactics.”

“Won’t it end if you just let me go?” you ask him.

“Ahhhh. Well, you know better than that, don’t you? He has it out for you sure, but he has it out for us just as much. So, no. Nice try, though.”

You wring your hands together, choosing your next words carefully.

“You could let me into ENHA, to infiltrate.”

Felix stands abruptly but Chan silences him with a single gesture. He immediately sits back down.

“Are you out of your mind?” Chan says with a charming smile that doesn’t match his tone. “You must be mad. I’m not going to turn you over to the enemy.”

“Think about it,” you say. “I show up, beg Heeseung for forgiveness—”

“Forget about it.”

“And when he’s least expecting it, I kill him. Our problem is solved, Chan! Nobody will have to get hurt because of me again.”

“I said NO.” His voice booms as he enunciates the word. You watch his chest rise and fall and he rounds the desk to where you’re seated. He crouches right in front of you, his face inches from your own.

“What do you know about killing?” he asks, voice laced with venom. “What do you know about attacking someone, about infiltration? You’re weak. This is not a job meant for you, Y/N.”

You’re weak. You try not to smile at that. Because whereas that might have stung a while ago, not an ounce of you believes that to be true. Felix blinks.

Chan stands, his back cracking as he stretches his arms above his head.

“Felix, I was hoping I could borrow you tomorrow for a mission,” Chan says, ignoring the way your jaw clenches when he doesn’t meet your gaze.

“Yeah, whatever you need,” Felix confirms.

“Y/N, you’re dismissed,” Chan states, his eyes still on Felix. With a small huff you stand, making your way to the door of his office before you hear him suck air through his teeth. “Wait,” he says, closing the distance between the two of you.” Your heart stills for a moment as he gets infinitesimally close, his warm breath against your skin.

“Y/N…” he pauses, his fingers gliding up your neck to poke a spot against your neck. “What the fuck is this.”

“Um… Chan, what…”

He lets out a sigh, his fingers running through his hair. “A hickey. You have a fucking hickey, Y/N. Want to explain how that happened?”

You close your eyes just so you don’t look at Felix by mistake, but Chan’s fist slams into the wall next to your head, causing them to shoot open. A frame on the wall falls to the ground, the glass on it shattering open.

You don’t bother to deny the accusation. What’s done is done. You cannot help but guffaw when Felix finally speaks, incriminating himself when he tells Chan “It was me.”

Chan does not seem surprised by this information. He blinks once, twice, and lets out a half-hearted, cold laugh.

When Chan crosses the room in an instant punching Felix square in the face you let out a blood-curdling scream. Felix does nothing to block the hits, taking them one after another. At one point you recognize your own body crossing the room, grabbing onto Chan’s bicep, begging, pleading for him to stop. You make eye contact with Felix for one split second, watch him spit blood out of his mouth before smiling a sad smile at you, and you’re pulling onto Chan again before you hear a loud thwap.

He has just backhanded you across the face. You barely register the pain–you more feel the warmth radiating across your face.

It’s now that Felix has stood up and the fight has truly begun.

It gets messy fast. A slew of curses and fists are flying, and you even get in a hit or two of your own. Chan doesn’t hit you again, but someone does have to pry you off of his back where you’re desperately trying to get him to stop his fight against Felix. You think it’s Minho’s arms that wrap around you, pulling you away from the man, and you see Changbin step in between Chan and Felix.

“Y/N, go to your room,” Chan spits harshly.

“Don’t hurt him, please, I’m sorry, just please don’t hurt him–”

“I’m not going to repeat myself.”

And so you walk to your room, a mess of tears and snot and blood that’s not your own. You’re not sure why you’re even following his directions, but you don’t know what you would do otherwise. When you get to your room you slam the door behind you and slump to the floor, succumbing to your sadness.

A hickey. You got caught over a fucking hickey and the problem is you can’t even recount the exact time that Felix left it. You thought you had been so careful… that gut feeling you had that something was wrong wasn’t so far off after all.

Twenty minutes have passed by the time Chan enters your room. You look up at him from your spot on the floor, shaking only slightly.

“I said this to Felix, but I’m going to tell you as well. If I ever catch you two touching ever again, you’re dead. Both of you. Are we clear?” You nod your head at him with a grimace. “And as for you… you are not to leave this room. The only person to give you permission to leave is me, the only person allowed in is me. You’ll have meals in here from now on until I decide you can handle otherwise.”

You don’t dare to speak or protest. You feel sick to your stomach.

When Chan leaves your room, he shuts your door behind you. The loud click that comes after is deafening. After a few minutes you check that, yes, the door is indeed locked from the outside. You’re stuck in here. The window is already bolted shut from your escape attempt on your first night here, and now you are completely locked in this room, stuck between these four walls.

The only good thing about this place has been taken away from you, though, and it’s not even your freedom. You never really had that to begin with, did you? What you did have was someone who showed you kindness, someone who cared and made you smile. Someone who saved you time and time again but then helped you to get stronger so you could save yourself on your own.

You cry yourself to sleep but you are smug in the fact that you got in more than one hit on Chan. You stood up for yourself in that room and fought back even if it wasn’t a success.

You are not the same person you once were. You will find a way out of this.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

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morgansorgans-org · 22 days ago

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Collection of nrmt/klpl fics!

An oomf on Instagram asked if I could compile all my favorite Ace Attorney fics! They are all and Wrightworth and Klapollo fics. The first few are my favorites (usually means they made me cry or emotionally impacted me 🧍) but I like all the others I linked here ofc as well! Many of these came from rec lists on tumblr, because that’s how I started out reading aa fics!

Wrightworth fics

Legal Partners by Miggy, 132k words, 34/34 chapters, 2013

Summary: Miles Edgeworth isn't totally sure how he ended up in this bet to demonstrate the strength of his and Phoenix Wright's (entirely professional and platonic! really!) relationship, but he knows it's Klavier's fault.

Absolutely one of my most favorite fics ever, I’m not gonna lie. Genuinely so good. I was clutching my phone the entire third act of the fic, absolutely ridden with anxiety. I read for 12 hours straight that third act, during exam season, eyes absolutely bloodshot and had a splitting headache by the end because I was staring at my phone for far too long. It’s so good.

I think my biggest qualm I have with this master class of a fic if I had to say, would probably be the characterization of Klavier? he feels too straight in this I don’t know how else to put it. But honestly it’s so minor I don’t really care and I’ve read this twice (which I never do)

Project Matchmakers by WingSongHalo, 126k words, 16/16 chapters, 2018

Summary: It was quite distressing, Pearl thought. For years previously, she had been quite fixated on the idea of her cousin and Mr. Nick living happily ever after. Even after she had accepted that this would never happen, she was always somewhat enamored of the idea that one of them would someday be caught up in a whirlwind romance, passionate and adventurous.

So she was rather surprised to find herself immensely enjoying the steady, familiar relationship she saw between a defense attorney and a prosecutor. It wasn't loud or flashy or wild, but calm and reliable and quiet. Rather than a blazing fire that consumed everything, theirs was an affection like a candle flame, bringing forth light and warmth.

Well, except for when they were in court. Then they were rather more like two overzealous flamethrowers.

An excitable group of girls (and a reluctant Apollo) team up to make Phoenix and Miles realize they're crazy about each other. But are such measures really necessary?

Canon universe.

Loved this one. Very good. I loved the side casefic it had and how it affected the main characters as well. I love the everyone ships wrightworth trope so much.

A Night You’ll Never Regret by MaudMoon (Idle_Wanderings), 88k words, 7/7 chapters, 2018

Summary: After learning about a clerical error on their wedding certificate, Maggey and Gumshoe decide to go all out and invite their friends and family to a vow renewal ceremony in Las Vegas. Edgeworth, spurred on by his sister's threats encouragements, decides to use the trip as an opportunity to express feelings he's been holding onto for years.

However when Edgeworth, Larry, and Phoenix wake up the morning after Gumshoe's bachelor party, it doesn't take them long to realize things didn't go as planned: Edgeworth's cards have been declined, Larry has been mysteriously injured, and Phoenix wakes up wearing a wedding ring. And, to top it all off, Gumshoe is missing. They'll need to rush against time to find Gumshoe before his wedding, and to do that they'll need to figure out what the hell exactly happened last night.

Soooo good! I love the mystery aspect of it all and everyone recounting and slowly piecing together what happened. It’s very sweet too and also kinda nsfw be warned…. also Maya x Rhoda was definitely not what I was expecting tbh

To play due process like a fiddle by Harmony, 19k words, 1/1 chapters, 2024

Summary: As far as Miles can tell, Agent Lang's initial impression of certified hot mess Phoenix "That Man" Wright upon their first meeting wasn't exactly the most positive, and tragically enough, it's not like Miles can really blame him for having that perception.

That said, they both probably should've known that Phoenix hadn't been named the Turnabout Terror for nothing.

(Or: what it means to judge solely based on first appearances and then have all of your expectations rocked off-balance, especially when they revolve around one of the most outstanding attorneys the criminal justice system has ever known).

Deeeeeelicious. So good. Love the tension between Phoenix and Lang and them essentially kinda fighting for Edgeworth even though it’s a very skewed battle against Lang. Aaaagh

A fool in love (with you) by gen, 17k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016

Summary: Miles and Phoenix (finally, no really, after two years of being engaged) decide to tie the knot. On the day of the wedding, they are reminded of all the moments that got them there.

Sooooo cute! This one helped inspire me for my last chapter of my own wrightworth fic actually! This author actually wrote a klapollo long fic I’ve been meaning to check out actually, called The Sound of Silence. I’ve been scared off by how heavy the warnings of the angst ahead are ngl. But this one shot in contrast is very fluffy and sweet!

A Beginner’s Guide on how Not to Write Steel Samurai Fanfiction by chameleonwrites, 16k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021

Summary: Verity Baytum, a court stenographer, has a secret passion for writing Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. When she finds an unlikely source of inspiration during her job, she can't help but watch court proceedings in search of further lines that fit her fics.

Miles Edgeworth, said source of inspiration, has a secret passion for reading Steel Samurai fanfiction based around the pairing Magisteel. It doesn't take long for him to realise the reason the characters sound like him and Wright is not due to personal projection.

I really liked this one, it’s very funny and sweet. I also realized this fic kind of predicted the name Verity for an AA character…

Yours, Mine, and Maybe Ours by estelraca, 13k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015

Summary: Phoenix convinces Miles to bring Trucy in with him for Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, despite Miles' misgivings. Everything becomes even more complicated when Kay Faraday and Shi-Long Lang call on him for assistance. Set between the original trilogy and Apollo Justice; mild spoilers for both Investigations games.

Loved this one! I really like any fics with Trucy as a bigger character (wow who knew look at all my SNS accounts with trucy pfps) especially ones that delve deeper into her relationship between her and Edgeworth.

The Prosecution Rests by Commander_Freddy, 4k words, 1/1 chapters, 2016

Summary: Miles Edgeworth goes to bed, and then wakes up.

Very good. Short but impactful and angsty and sweet. Commander Freddy has some other very good AA fics you should check out also.

Archeology by sunsmasher, 8k words, 1/1 chapters, 2014

Summary: Phoenix and Maya finally clean out Mia's office. Far, far too many people help.

Very short but very good. Deals with Mia grief and also has side Wrightworth content.

To Their Happiness by ,,,,, 41k words, 10/10 chapters, 2024

Summary: Trucy Wright sees that her daddy's friend, Miles Edgeworth, makes him happy in a way she can't. She knows he's sad and lonely, despite trying his best to hide it from her. She makes a promise to herself that she would try to have Miles around as often as she could, for his happiness.

Or, an evolution of Wrightworth's relationship through Trucy's eyes. Trucy and co. sees Phoenix and Miles feel that special way that adults feel for each other and tries to matchmake them. It's mostly Trucy doing that, though.

teehee. you think I wouldn’t go without promoting my OWN fic? you thought wrong!!! I’m also working on a Klapollo fic (it’s like 37k words so far) but I’ll be lucky if it gets uploaded by the end of 2024 with the pace I’m writing it at. It’s so close to completion though…

Klapollo fics

Hot for Justice by indirectkissesiniceland, 43k words, 26/26 chapters, 2013

Summary: After the events of State v. Misham, Klavier finds himself in a slump, stressed at the prosecutor's office and unable to pen new songs. To his surprise, he finds creative inspiration—and unexpected feelings—spending time with Apollo. Now if only he could release the new tracks without raising any suspicion as to whom his love songs are for.

God, is there a klapollo fic rec list without Hot for Justice on it? It’s such a classic, and rightfully so. This fic also inspired me as well to write my next fic! It’s just this good.

Vacation All I Wanted by JJsADragon, 111k words, 24/24 chapters, 2020

Summary: “A vacation?” Apollo asked.

“Yeah! You know what a vacation is, right Polly? When are you going to get another opportunity like this? A beach vacation? A pool? It’s not like you could afford this place without splitting the cost.”

One condo. Six lawyers. Seven secret plans. What could possibly go wrong?

This fic is like. A need I go on? Moment. It’s so iconic and good. This along with Legal Partners probably permanently organized my brain chemistry, I think. Good god the angst. The fluff. this fic genuinely made me sob which. A book hasn’t done that to me in a very long time! there’s a scene where Apollo talks about grief and that was very relatable. This fic also does breach the subject of suicidal ideation, but it is brief. In general this is a lighthearted fic!

If it’s really me you seek by seamint, 83k words, 21/21 chapters, 2021

Summary: “Anyway,” Ema keeps going, fully ignoring his sarcasm in favor of staring at a neat corner where the walls meet the ceiling. “I asked if he wanted to go to your party together, but he said he wasn’t going.”

“What?” Apollo suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. “Why?”

“Hell if I know,” Ema says nonchalantly, but then she turns to him with a smirk. “See if you can figure it out: I believe he told me, and I quote—ahem—'Ach, I would, Fräulein, but I believe Herr Justice would be more comfortable without me there.’”

Or, when Apollo comes home from Khura'in only to learn that Prosecutor Gavin is avoiding him, the last thing he expected was for Gavin to offer to let Apollo stay at his house while he looks for a new apartment.

It’s been a hot minute since I read this one (one of the first klapollo fics I read) but this one was veryyy good. Very much inspired me. Honestly all of Seamint’s stuff is good.

And if all my wishes could come true by seamint, 45k words, 8/8 chapters, 2022

Summary: “‘Our son’ my ass. You’re getting way too into this,” Apollo grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Is this your dream? Do you dream of being divorced and paying alimony, Gavin?”

Klavier doesn’t tell him that as far as dreams go, his is to live in a world where a relationship with Apollo, past tense or otherwise, is at all possible. Apollo doesn’t need specifics, or terrible confessions in vet clinics that show how badly Klavier wants to play pretend with him.

Or, Klavier, Apollo, and how cats bring people together in the most convoluted ways possible.

Looove this. Very fluffy. Mikeko being the center of attention as well and that’s of course why we’re reading this who cares abt klapollo frrr

Turnabout Dungeons (and Dragons) by Synthpop, 170k words, 33 chapters, 2016

Summary: According to Mr. Wright, Dungeons and Dragons is good, if not crucial, for cultivating trusting relationships between friends and coworkers. Apollo has his doubts.

So goood. I love D&D and Klapollo and this is the perfect mix of this. Bard klavier, paladin apollo, need I go on? Phoenix is the dungeon master and Ema, Trucy, Athena and Simon are also apart of the party as well

can I go where you go by parchmints, 40k words, 6/6 chapters, 2021

Summary: Apollo Justice has rotten luck: he actually wins the grand prize for a mail-in contest, but It's a couple's getaway to a fancy ski lodge in the mountains and Apollo is aggressively single. With no one to go with, Apollo offers them to Klavier since surely, a rockstar would be able to find a date before then, but Klavier has a better idea—they go together and pretend they're a couple. That way, they both get a vacation, plus free food and wine.

And well, Apollo's never been one to pass up free food.

So good!!! There’s some wonderful art in this one as well!! I remember being super hooked by this one and giggling over the fake dating stuff. Loved it

Things are as they are by hechima, 34k words, 3/3 chapters, 2021

Summary: Klapollo cabin fic. That's really all this is.

Need I say more? Yes, two cabin fic recs back to back. One cabin in the snow and the other in some desert. Loved the character analysis in this one.

Gravity by Euphorion, 46k words, 7/7 chapters, 2014

Summary: In the aftermath of his brother's arrest, Klavier is trying to balance his law career and a solo music career, with some success—but with less savory consequences as well. His fans are fixating on every aspect of his life, desperate for his attention and jealous of his relationships with the people around him. They've singled out his courtroom rival, Apollo Justice, as the target of their frustrations.

hooo boy this one is pretty angsty in a way. Lots of things going on in this one. We have some crazy Gavinners fans in this, endangerment of lives, stalking, mail… it’s a bit dark but very engaging!

It’s all that I am and all that I have by eternalmagic, 58k words, 12/12 chapters, 2016

Summary: Apollo sucks in a breath, attempting to steel his nerves. Should he honestly send this...? He doesn't even know who this man is. This is a huge, huge mistake. But, even so, he hits send before he can remind himself of how awful an idea this is.

Dear You,

I think I love you. Just wanted you to know.

From,

Klavier's phone pings with an email notification, and the moment he reads it, the smile fades from his face. God, this was so much easier when he didn't know that the sender hated him in real life.

[ or, the you've got mail au. ]

Sooo good! I’ve never watched the movie before, and honestly, you don’t have to. It’s very engaging and oh my goddd the angst you have to get through to get to the fluff…. So worth it.

Anyway, Here’s Guilty Love by u_andcloud, 129k words, 22/22 chapters

Summary: The entirety of Ivy U is smitten with Klavier Gavin—with one exception. Apollo Justice could do without Klavier’s constant presence in the quad, where he serenades passerby with acoustic versions of his band's songs. Apollo is also not particularly fond of Klavier’s clothes, his hair, his tendency to sprinkle German into his conversations, or the fact that, despite all of this, Klavier is still at the top of the class.

So when Klavier asks Apollo to help him start a club for aspiring lawyers on campus, Apollo isn’t entirely sure why he accepts. It’s a resume builder, he tells himself. It’s not like he has to like the guy.

Except, well....he's starting to think that he might.

[Or, a simple college AU turned AA4 re-imagining.]

AHHHHH. College AU fic set in Ivy U. In AU fics like these, I’m always interested in how the author will deal with Kristoph, considering his story is so intertwined with both Apollo and Klavier. This fic did it so well and seamlessly my goddd. I loved it.

Undeniable you (the currents pulling me onward) by experimentaldragonfire, 59k words, 11/11 chapters, 2020

Summary: Kristoph Gavin is found dead in his prison cell, and Klavier Gavin is the prime suspect.

With nobody else available to defend him, Apollo Justice flies in from Khura'in to take the case--but during the course of the trial and its aftermath, long-hidden secrets come to light.

I looove Klavier being suspected of murder fics. They executed this concept very well. I know abt experimentaldragonfire as they were one of the hosts for the klapollo minibang (2024) I was apart of! Their writing is indeed, fire. Check out their other fics as well!

Apollo Justice: Between the Cases by joggingoctopus, 84k words, 18/18 chapters, 2023

Summary: What happened between cases in the Apollo Justice game? Here's one way things could have played out!

A retelling of apollo Justice, kind of! I really liked how the author explained some of the stuff in Ace Attorney, and it will go into my personal AA belief system I think. They also have a sequel fic which I’ve yet to read bc im very scared! (Clay things)

Delicate by ronsenberg, 30k words, 5/5 chapters, 2020

Summary: Everything about the situation is wrong, from the suitcase in Apollo’s arms to the blaring of car horns from the cars waiting behind him. It doesn’t matter. “I have been thinking-” he starts, voice faltering. It is very unlike him to be at such a loss for words, but he has never found himself in a situation quite like this before. “Ach, wondering, really-”

Apollo raises his brow, glancing at the digital clock on the dash and back into Klavier’s eyes in quick succession. “Klavier, my flight-”

“-Marry me?” The words come out in a rushed and poorly articulated interruption. Apollo blinks, his mouth falling slightly open in surprise. “When you come back, ja? Marry me.”

A Post-Spirit of Justice Proposal fic.

As of writing this right now, I just finished this fic so it’s very fresh in my memory! I really liked it! The way they wrote what would most likely be a realistic depiction of Klapollo if it were to happen in real life. It has all the downs and lows and the highs that you’d expect in a realistic relationship.

Glowing embers dying fire by virtualmushroom, 88k words, 20/20 chapters, 2023

Summary: Klavier has a crush on Apollo and he makes that abundantly clear.

Apollo, however, is oblivious and takes Klavier's enamored flirting for simple teasing. After all, why would a famous prosecutor rockstar come to like an "average" guy like him?

Despite that, Apollo comes to unlearn the preconception he has of Klavier and see beyond his mask, into the person he really is, someone not as cheerful as he may appear.

An also realistic in-canon depiction of Klapollo I really like! This was also written by my good friend!

Words Come Fluently by ItsyRoyal, 50k words, 12/12 chapters, 2021

Summary: Klavier Gavin is the most famous rockstar in the world. Guilty Love is about to go platinum and the tour sold out fourteen stadiums. So there's really, really no reason why one anonymous music critic on Youtube who hates him should get under his skin. And yet somehow he'd do just about anything to convince MikekoMusic to like him.

Apollo has been doing Youtube as a fun side hustle while he tries to break into the talent management industry, and he's just landed an assistant gig working for Kristoph Gavin. Whose main client is his golden boy younger brother. Whose music Apollo has been anonymously trashing for years.

Yeah, this is all going to go fine.

auuuuuuuuuuugh oh my god the DRAMA in this. Really good. The best part about this is the reassurance of no murders and clay BEING ALIVE!! I love clay alive fics, esp if they’re of him reacting to Klapollo.

Mission Control by ForeheadandFop, 12k words, 1/1 chapters, 2015

Summary: Like any good friend, Clay takes an interest in Apollo's career; he can't help it if the most interesting part is Klavier.

Loved this as well. Very good. It fulfills my needs of clay reacting to klapollo as mentioned above but however. This is canon compliant….🧍happy ending though …

I think that’s it for my list for recommendations! Sorry a lot of them are long fics 😭😭

#ace attorney #apollo justice #klapollo #wrightworth #wrightworth fic recs #wrightworth fics #klapollo fic recs #klapollo fics

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [7]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 2,800

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: this one is on the shorter side, but I didn't want to leave y'all with nothing (ironically I wrote this while on a plane to my conference/vacation). The Las Vegas trip will all be one large chapter (someone asked if I was gonna split that into parts, but I won't). Part 8 will just be viva las vegas the entire time, baby.]

07: BEING VULNERABLE SUCKS ASS

"i don't have an explanation as to how you pull me in, you just do. you've always had a gravity that i've never been able to overcome." -JmStorm

The cost of a mani-pedi never seemed worth it to you in the past. You saved your money for other more necessary things like bills and groceries. Sitting in the padded chair with your feet resting in the heated water of the foot bath, you realized how much you had been missing out on.

“I can’t believe that bitch showed up where you work.” Nima scoffed. She sat in the chair beside you with her feet in her own bath. You had used Joel’s money to pay for her to get a mani-pedi as well and that made you happier than the treatment itself. Over the years, Nima would pay for meals and drinks and times the two of you went out and she always did it nonchalantly and in a way that never felt like charity. It felt good to be able to buy her something for once. “How did she even find you?”

You shrugged, “No idea. Sugar baby grapevine?”

“Bitches do be talking.” Nima hummed. You chuckled and leaned back in your seat. This spa offered mimosas and you held your empty flute. Nima picked up her phone to shoot off a message before turning to look at you. “So? Viva las Vegas, baby. You excited?”

“Yeah,” You nodded once then tilted your head with a slight wince, “Well, I mean, I’m kind of nervous too. This is my first time going away with him. He’s stuck with me for a full 72 hours.” Once you started talking you found all your bottled worries spilling out. “What if he thinks I’m annoying and gets tired of me? I’m too scared to ask him if we’re staying in the same room or a different room because I don’t know what I want the answer to be. If he says no then I’ll be disappointed and worry that he is getting sick of me, but if he says yes then I’ll panic⏤ Is he not the man I thought he was and he’s expecting something from me? Or what if it is innocent and he got me a second bed, but then he hears me snore and thinks it’s gross?” You paused to catch your breath and realized Nima was just blankly staring at you with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Nima shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked past you and raised a hand to catch the attention of an employee. “Hi! Yes, we need more alcohol please. As soon as possible.” You groaned and hung your head. Nima let out a low whistle. “Is that what your brain sounds like all the time? Jesus, babe.”

“I know I’m overthinking.” You admitted. A woman came by with a champagne bottle and you thanked her after she filled your glass⏤ turning down the juice she offered with it. You took a long sip. “I like him.” Nima’s eyes widened. “Yeah, yeah, you were right, okay? I… I like him. A lot.” A hand drifted up to hold the sunflower charm on your new necklace between your fingers. Tomorrow morning you’d be boarding a private jet with Joel and you’d be spending the weekend with a guy you were seriously crushing on. “I know it’s so stupid to start falling for a guy who is literally paying me to hang around him…”

Nima sighed, “Oh, babe.”

“This is the first time I’ve felt like this since… since Nathan.” You said. At the mention of you ex-boyfriend’s name, Nima’s eyebrows furrowed in pain. You didn’t often mention him, hardly said his name, and it was in part because just the thought of him hurt. Whether he meant to or not, Nathan made you feel like you had not been enough. Joel made you feel worthy. You hadn’t even realized that the hole Nathan left in your heart had been so deep until Joel began to fill it with care. “Maybe I shouldn’t go…”

Nima reached out and grasped your wrist. “No. You have to.”

“You told me liking him was a bad idea.”

“I know, but…” Nima shrugged. “You seem happier these days. Relaxed. I can’t tell you if this is going to end well or not, I have no idea, but… even if this is just some kind of emotional rebound, I think it’s good for you.” You gave her a small smile and Nima squeezed your wrist. “Nathan was a tool. You deserve to be happy. Even if happy comes in the form of a cowboy sugar daddy.”

You chuckled at her phrasing. Joel did make you happy. The negative, anxiety riddled part of your brain screamed that being a sugar baby was hardly the same thing as being loved. However, for the first time in your life you were choosing to ignore the logistics of the scenario and just focus on how you felt.

“I keep telling myself to just be like you.” You admitted and Nima’s eyes widened. You chuckled and shrugged. “You’re never scared, Nima, and I feel… I feel like I’m always scared. You just explore love, guns a’blazing, and I wish⏤ I wish I could do that.”

Nima turned so fast in her seat that water sloshed out of the foot bath. She frowned, “Are you kidding me?? Of course, I’m scared! Loving someone, opening up yourself to be loved, is the scariest thing anyone could ever do.” Her lips pressed together and she reached out so both her hands held tight to yours. “So, don’t stress yourself out over it. How you feel is totally normal. Being vulnerable sucks ass.”

You shot her a firm smile as a few employees came over to discuss any specific nail styles you may want. Worrying about it too much would only ruin the trip. You had already come this far⏤ may as well keep jumping in head first.

It had been ages since you’ve flown, literal years, and never had it been in a private jet. Standing on the tarmac watching part of the flight crew roll your bags to be loaded, you just stared. Eventually, a large hand settled in the middle of your back. Joel saddled up beside you and he offered you a small smile.

“You gonna board or just stare at it all day, darlin?” He chuckled. He wore one of his suits, but he had already stripped of his coat.

You nodded, “Yeah, sorry, I just can’t believe I’m about to board a private jet.” Without preamble or question, Joel’s hand slipped from your back to slide down your arm and tangle his fingers with yours. It was almost a habit now for Joel to take your hand. He led you toward the jet. “Do you always ride in style like this?”

“Not always.” Joel replied. “But I will say that ridin’ like this has spoiled me of public airlines.”

“No kidding.” You chuckled and Joel motioned for you to walk up the stairs to the jet’s door first. He followed only a step behind, hand not leaving yours. The inside of the jet was simple but luxurious. Couches rather than single seats and one side had a booth like table. “I can’t imagine going from this to Spirit airlines.”

Joel snorted behind you and stepped around you so he could lead you toward one of the couches. “If you think I’m ever gonna let you fly Spirit, sugar, you’re crazy.”

You sat down and your eyebrows lifted when Joel walked toward the back rather than sit beside you. He briefly disappeared from sight, it sounded like he was speaking to an attendant, and you took that time to gaze around the plush interior of the jet. This was your life for now. It felt like a dream.

Joel walked back and he had two champagne flutes. Your lips pulled up into a grin as he settled right beside you and offered you a flute. “For the pretty lady.”

“Why thank you.” You chuckled. The two of you lightly clinked your glasses together before sipping at it. Despite the jet having, ample space, Joel sat close enough to drape his arm over the back of the couch behind you. “How long is this flight?”

“A little over an hour or so.”

“Oh, that’s not bad.” You hummed. “Is anyone else flying with us?”

Joel shook his head. “Tess is gonna meet us there on day two, and Tommy never comes to the Vegas conference.”

“Why?” You asked then paused. “To both situations.”

Joel chuckled. “Day one is kind of pointless for us to be there. All the work and meetings my company is involved in starts day two.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Then how come we’re going for day one?”

Joel shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “I figured it’d be fun to sight see together? If you’re interested that is.” You always loved watching him grow slightly nervous when asking you something like that because the smile he shot you after you inevitably said yes was damn near radiant. You nodded in excitement and Joel’s eyes lit up in response. “Good, and as for Tommy,” Joel gave a little shrug, “He’s got a history of gettin' involved in shit he shouldn’t. He’s got his head straight on now, mostly, but it’s just safer if keeps away from the temptation altogether.”

The pilot poked his head in to let you both know he was ready and suggest you strap in. You glanced around to see if there was a place you could set your flute down but the closest table was on Joel’s side. He set his own flute down briefly and reached out. You thought he’d take the flute, but instead Joel reached down to click your seat belt around your waist. It was such a simple motion yet you felt a warmth fill your cheeks.

“Thanks.” You mumbled. The plane taxied out to the runway and you quietly sipped at your champagne. You felt a rumbling underfoot as the plane picked up speed and when it began to rise your stomach lurched. Startled, your hand shot out to steady yourself on the closest object which just so happened to be Joel’s thigh.

Before you could even fully comprehend how awkward this could be, your hand squeezed as the plane continued to rise— your only focus on the sensation of taking off. As the plane leveled off, you were able to feel other aspects around you, such as how thick and firm Joel’s thigh felt under hand.

He cleared his throat and peeled your hand off his thigh. Embarrassment flooded your soul, but Joel kept your hand in his. He laced his fingers between yours, shifting closer so his thigh was pressed against yours, and lifted your hand to his lips to set a soft kiss at the back of your hand.

“Are you alright, sugar?” Joel asked with nothing but concern.

“Sorry.” You shook your head. “It’s been a while since…”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve asked if you were a nervous flyer.”

“I didn’t think I was.” You chuckled and swallowed the lump in your throat as the plane hit a patch of turbulence and wavered. Joel continued to trace circles against the back of your hand with his thumb and you focused on that alone. Somehow, his presence alone was enough to soothe your frayed nerves. You leaned your head against his shoulder and Joel shifted so you’d be able to rest in a comfortable spot. You really did like this way too much.

Joel hummed, “Lemme know if you feel sick. We got a first aid kit on here somewhere with some motion sickness patches, I think.”

“I’m okay.” You replied, loathing the idea of him getting up or anything right now, “Where are we staying in Vegas?”

“The Wynn.”

“Is that where you usually stay?”

“No, actually.” Joel said. “I usually stay at Mandalay Bay, but I thought you’d like the Wynn better.”

You were glad you were resting your head on his shoulder so he couldn’t see the absolute stupid smile that crossed your features. He had changed his usual routine and picked a hotel that specifically made him think of you⏤ one he thought you’d enjoy best. Maybe the bar was just on the floor from your last boyfriend, but it was no wonder you were falling for Joel Miller when he did such sweet, considerate things.

“Why?” You asked.

“It’s real pretty. You’ll see.”

The two of you continued to chat idly and you listened to Joel tell stories about past conferences and the things he was looking forward to and wasn’t. Your stomach had mostly settled now that the plane was smoothly soaring at its cruising altitude. So, you figured now was as good a time as any to use the restroom. You excused yourself and cautiously walked to the lavatory. As you finished up and washed your hands, your eyes glanced up in the mirror at yourself. You may as well have been glowing. For the millionth time, you thanked your lucky stars that Joel had somehow found you.

At the thought, you paused. This entire time you wondered how Rosalind randomly found you at work, but what were the chances that Joel Miller would randomly walk into a failing bakery and see you behind the counter? You shut off the water, dried your hands, and walked back out. Joel was using the plane phone when he spotted you.

“Yeah, we’ll see you when you get here.” Joel stared at you as he spoke, his gaze soft. “Just call me if you need anythin’. Mhmm. Right. Bye, Tess.” He hung up and set the phone aside. “All good, sugar?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Course.” Joel nodded and you settled back in your seat beside him.

You didn’t lay your head on his shoulder and turned just enough so you could face him while the two of you spoke, “How did you find me?” Joel raised an eyebrow in confusion. “At the bakery. Were you just passing by and saw me through the window? Or were you coming in for baked goods randomly?”

Joel suddenly looked sheepish. He cleared his throat, “It’s… Alright, this might not sound too good or flatterin’ toward myself.” You furrowed your own brows in confusion this time. “That week I was at a work site a few blocks down from the bakery. I had stepped off site to take a call and… and I saw you.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t break his gaze. “I recognized you from the coffee shop, figured you were going to work, and I… I followed you.” Joel closed his eyes and shook his head at the admission. “Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest creep. I swear I didn’t mean to. It was like… I was movin’ before I even knew it. I nearly followed you right into the bakery, but I stopped and came to my senses.” He reopened his eyes and there was regret and shame in his brown eyes⏤ two emotions you didn’t like seeing there. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I know it was stupid and I tried to stay away, but I… I couldn’t get you out of my head. I broke down a few days later and came in. Told myself I was just gonna pay you back for the coffee and be done with it, but once I got to talkin’ to you…”

“It’s okay, Joel.” You said softly.

“No, it really isn’t.” He shook his head. There was a firmness in his words that echoed the shame he felt. “I should’ve told you much sooner than this and definitely not on a plane 40,000 feet in the air where you can’t even run from me.”

“I’m not gonna run.” You chuckled. Maybe you should be more concerned than you were, but Joel had been nothing but respectful the entire time you had known him. Besides, the only thing you could grasp from his words was the fact that it seemed Joel felt drawn to you the same way you felt toward him. It could just be naive optimism or a delusion, but you began to wonder if it were possible that Joel liked you as much as you liked him⏤ as more than just the sugar daddy and sugar baby ties between the two of you.

You turned in your seat to lay on his shoulder once more. Joel seemed mildly startled by the motion, but he was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders to hold you in place. You reached up to play with his hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Joel chuckled, “I’m never gonna lie to you, sugar.”

The pilot came over the intercom to announce he’d be starting the landing process soon and you wondered if Vegas was going to be the start of a new chapter of your relationship with Joel.

taglist (closed):

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #female reader #reader insert

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sumicchin · 4 months ago

Text

CHIMES OF THE HEART

❃ a wind breaker (satoru nii) reader insert

Chapter 6

Umemiya regrets telling everyone that conversation = fist fight. (1.9k words)

cw: female reader, umemiya spoiler, tsubakino referred to as they/them, i made up stuff about makochi

"You're just going to let her go, Sakura?" Suo says next to him, eyes not tearing away from the direction you went.

Sakura clenches his fist, forehead scrunching from the sudden stress, "I..."

"(F/n) probably won't go out of town, r-right? She did say she had to find something! I'm sure we can help her out!" Nirei optimistically says as he catches up to the two after giving Kakiuchi to his other classmates. He takes a good look at Sakura's face and sees his eyes wide.

Sakura is reminded of your conversation last night—of how he saw himself in you, and how much pain your eyes held.

It wasn't his concern, but he knew you needed help. He wasn't letting anyone go through what he did before.

"Sa...kura?" Nirei attempts to calm him down, until he sees Sakura take out his phone.

He gestures his hand towards the phone and Nirei becomes even more confused, "I need to call him... he'll know what to do."

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Umemiya, despite his childhood, grew up to be a fine man. No one would imagine that a well-rounded guy like him, oh so cheery and charming, experienced hell on earth as a child. Anyone would feel bitter about losing their parents, and Umemiya was not free of that. He struggled, thinking he wasn't deserving of being saved.

Survivor's guilt.

But he grew to see what was important in front of him—to honor his parent's sacrifice by giving back love to those around him. To make everyone feel like family, and never let anyone feel like they're alone in this world.

"You're...amazing, Umemiya," you both stare into each other's eyes, holding massive respect for what he's been through and how he achieved his goals.

Umemiya chuckles, ruffling your hair, "I didn't tell you my story to pity me, you know? Was hoping you'd reconsider and stay here in Makochi, with us."

With...them?

It's too strange. Everyone in this town is strange. Were city folks always this welcoming towards outsiders?

"I don't want to keep bothering anyone...I can't go back to the shrine so I'm practically homeless." Supposedly, you were to be taken away by your husband after the vows, but now you aren't so sure if he's hot on your trail. But one thing was agreed upon—the shrine people and all its inhabitants except you were to remain unharmed. So long as you didn't go back to your previous residence, everyone was safe. Hayami, the friendly Mikos and the priest who you were thankful for secured the shrine. If anything else happens, Sojiro can take care of it. He was strong, unlike you. Everyone can trust in him.

Unlike you, already causing havoc in a new place.

"Sakura must be uncomfortable with me staying at his house," you mutter. "It doesn't sit right with me to live like everything's handed to me."

You're thankful, really, for the help you've received thus far. But how were you going to repay the kindness they've showered you with if your tracks only lingered with danger?

"You're all too kind... I'll carry the guilt of bringing danger to this town if I stay too long."

An overthinker that you are, Umemiya observes. "Makochi wasn't always like this, you know?"

He proceeds to tell you how Makochi used to be terrorized by delinquents day and night, the local businesses having trouble with their operations and families often fearing for their safety. Umemiya mentions a couple who led and funded the restoration of Makochi's properties, him in particular being a recipient of their kindness.

"The orphanage I grew up in was funded by a couple," he starts, pointing at the statue nearby the fountain. "I discussed the situation with the staff earlier and had my hunch confirmed. Everything checks out, you'd be the same age as their child if she were alive today. You're a split image of them too."

Then, that means...

He shows you a picture from his phone. Just like he says, you had their features.

Umemiya notices your trembling figure, immediately reaching out to pat the small of your back.

"I could've met my parents."

You grab Umemiya's blazer tight, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, "They're not gone yet, r-right? They're waiting for me?"

For once, you held onto hope—but Umemiya's look said otherwise.

"I'm...sorry," he says, almost whispering.

You couldn't help but let the tears flow uncontrollably, hanging onto Umemiya while he continued to calm you down in his own way. He knows the feeling all too well, and this time he'll be sure to help you out.

"Even if you were an outsider, we'd still help you to the best of our capabilities." He says, wrapping his arms around you, shielding you from any negative thoughts. "I...and the rest of Bofurin will protect you, (F/n)."

You look at Umemiya, giving you a bittersweet smile. "Welcome back, (F/n)."

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Sakura, Nirei, and Suo found themselves walking to the park where Umemiya had instructed them to go. They eventually find Bofurin's leader and (F/n) in an embrace.

"Oh, if it isn't my favorite first years!" The boys look at the new group approaching them, led by Tsubaki and the Sakaki twins.

Sakura immediately signals to keep quiet, earning him a chuckle from the newcomers. "It's all fine! Ume told us to gather here, didn't you receive a message?"

Nirei checked his phone and lo and behold was a message from their leader, "Ah! We were too occupied searching for (F/n)."

Suo lets out a grin next to him, "It all worked out in the end, thanks to Sakura's plan!"

Said boy became heated from the mention, saying it was all Umemiya who did the work. He knew it was the right call to let Bofurin's leader handle the situation seeing how at ease you were next to him. Almost like they were intruding a special moment between two lovers at the park. He blushes at the sight, feeling a pang in his chest.

Now aware of more people's presence, you immediately get out of Umemiya's embrace and bow your head down, not letting him see your puffy red eyes and runny nose that may or may not have gotten into his uniform. He places his hand on your shoulder and gently asks, "Think you can face them?"

Standing up to acknowledge his peers, you turn your head towards the large group of students now approaching their leader. "Yo! Looks like everyone's here," Umemiya scans the group, "Even Kaji came, that's surprising!"

Kaji tenses at the special mention and feels all of his peers stare at him. His vice-captains laugh and Enomoto talks for his defense, albeit in a teasing manner, "Kaji said he wanted to fetch his jacket back and definitely not because he was worried about 'er or anything." Now this puts a nail in the coffin and everyone swore Kaji would've pounced on his friends if it weren't for Hiragi pulling him back.

"You're all too lively," Tamon's captain says as he drags Kaji by the hoodie, "Give (F/n) a break, don't wanna overwhelm her."

You watch the boys bickering and Umemiya notices the faint smile from your lips.

"Fun bunch, aren't they?" You nod.

"You can trust them, just open your heart."

Trusting them, a couple of teenagers who seemed rough around the edges, with your heart?

Maybe you should let loose this time. Umemiya, Kotoha, and Sakura are just the few people you've met today, yet they all radiate the same warmth and comfort you've been yearning for all these years. If everyone shares the same kindness, you'd probably think you're living in some kind of fantasy.

Recalling Hayami's last request for you—to live an earnest and free life. Maybe you can trust them to achieve it.

In a daze, you didn't notice someone approaching you giddily, almost a hope to their step.

"I'm so glad you're doing better now!" A tall figure immediately stood in front of you, but it didn't phase you one bit. Their presence wasn't trying to intimidate you. "I'm Tsubakino Tasuku, but Tsubaki-chan or anything will do, love!"

Tsubaki lets out a wide smile, enthusiastic to see you well and standing despite your puffy eyes and cheeks. You stand still though, and this immediately raised a concern with everyone.

"A-ah, did I scare you—"

Your eyes suddenly twinkle with excitement, and you yell what was running on your mind without a filter. "You're really beautiful! Very much!"

"It's a great honor meeting you!" Shaking hands with Tsubaki, everyone was startled with the sudden change in personality. This was most likely the enthusiasm you've been hiding all these years, suppressed by loneliness. Umemiya beside the two of you finds your exchange with Tsubaki very endearing, already making notes on how he'll elicit this kind of reaction from you soon. Hopefully you like plants!

Tsubaki on the other hand was already enamored with you, listening to every word you say. "Your hair and the way you dress, and the makeup really accentuates your features! The ones I see in the magazine don't compare to Tsubaki-chan!" You stop your rambling and see Tsubaki endearingly smiling at you with a blush.

"S-sorry! I just, get too excited seeing new things." You chuckle and Tsubaki does too.

It's hard to resist not taking you out this weekend, Tsubaki thinks. The trip will probably take a huge hit on their savings, but money can always be earned. Seeing your smile is a reward in itself for Tsubaki.

Everyone watches as Tsubaki continues to coddle you, happy to see you engaging enthusiastically. Suo lightly pushes a blushing Sakura, whose romance sensor has been going rampant since earlier, towards you and Tsubaki.

"H-hey! What gives?!" Sakura exclaims towards his eye-patched friend who only signalled a gesture for friend, linking his hands together.

Oh right, you probably hate him right now for what he did earlier at Pothos. Tsubaki seemed to understand the situation with how tense the two of you were, patting your head before leaving to stand next to Umemiya.

Just you and Sakura again, this time not so comfortable. "U-uh...about what happened earlier," his mouth becomes pouty, struggling to look you in the eye but he does so anyway, "I shouldn't have forced the idea...s-so...sorry."

His irises were trembling, searching desperately for a reaction from you. Sakura, despite his tough and standoffish attitude, always meant well and tried his best to help his peers. Last night's conversation was purely between two aloof individuals, both yearning to be in the presence of others, yet their struggles distinct. Hearts that were afraid of being vulnerable, not knowing if they were worth of affection.

"You were just looking out for me," you trail, "It's me who should be apologizing...for being stubborn."

Similar to how Anzai tried to reject everyone's help during the fight with KEEL, there was no escape from Sakura's headstrong personality. He'll find a way to worm in and help you out. He was just that selfless.

"He probably filled you in already on how this town operates and stuff," Sakura points at Umemiya, referencing his request earlier during their phone call. "Violence isn't something this town's had enough of."

"So you don't have to worry about us. Don't be afraid of asking for help, that's just how it is here."

You were indeed afraid. The concept of friendship and trust blurry to you not until yesterday, with Sakura declaring he was there to help you out, as a friend. It was a foreign feeling, and the boy reciprocated the confusion you must've felt before his bold intrusion. Even he was surprised by his actions last night. Everyone in Makochi must've been rubbing off of him—in the best possible way.

So, he tries to apply what he's learned so far.

"If you're still not convinced, let's settle this with a fight."

Or not.

"H-hey now, there's a time and place for fighting Sakura." Nirei visibly sweatdrops, "You can discuss things with (F/n) like a normal person, you know???" The boy looks to his other side and sees Suo with an approving smile. This is hopeless, Nirei concludes.

"If you win, I'll let you do what you want. If I win, you stay here in this town and let us protect you."

Hiragi, Tsubaki, and Umemiya all look confused.

Kaji and his vice-captains are all in awe with Sakura's naivety.

The Sakaki twins think this is a regular Friday. They've heard about you and how you can fend for yourself, so front row seats to see the real deal were nice.

The two first years, Suo and Nirei, were concerned, but Suo was just a tad bit curious to intervene. Nirei on the other hand thought otherwise.

Surely you're not that crazy enough to actually go with it?

"Fine with me," you reply.

Nirei just wants to curl up and do the pillbug stance right now.

tag list: @wutap, @the2ndl

#windbreaker x reader #haruka sakura x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader

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fanficonly · 4 months ago

Text

Wenclair x Reader -

What are you?- Part 10

Okay so yeah I have been gone... For like ... A long time... Sorry! I cannot give just one reason life has just been a lot to put it lightly. I am getting back into my writing and forgot how much I love it and fanfiction and just Wenclair in general. So I hope this chapter is good enough to move this story along and that some, if any, of you are still interested in it then I will be continuing so for now this is part 10 and more will be happening soon.

Enjoy reading 😋

"You were spying on me?!" You practically yell. Wednesday makes no attempt to explain herself but Enid fumbles over her words stepping towards you prompting you to step back instinctively

"I'm sorry. We're sorry. It was an accident!" She shouts back in defense, not aggressively but more panicked and worried as she dreaded your reaction.

"I- WHAT- This is too weird I-" you clutch the shirt in your hands, letting the fabric crease between your tensed knuckles as you start towards the door again.

"Y/N I have a proposition" Wednesday speaks abruptly, as if snapping out of thought, and the brazen tone she uses stops you from going any further. What could she possibly say that would help the situation right now? No wonder they are suspicious of you, making that phone call didn't make it any better and they had literally creeped on you from a closet! How the hell are you suppose to just let this go?

"A proposition? You spied on me while I was- you know that's not cool guys how did you even get there how did I not notice you?" Your voice trails off as you remember the last hour of time you spent in your room unaware of the prying eyes.

"We are incredibly skilled in being conspicuous" Wednesday says this with a hint of pride seeping out from the cracks of her blunt tone.

"Clearly" you sigh shaking your head a little in disbelief. I mean you didn't want to admit that it didn't completely freak you out because this is something that any normal person should have this reaction too... So you just continue with this course of action.

"We weren't trying to be conspicuous though, we didn't plan it!" Enid looks at Wednesday in matched disbelief. Honestly the thrill the Addams girl gets from stalking someone is a tad worrying but to brag about it like it was some master plan ...God she couldn't believe her girlfriend sometimes.

"Anyway as I was saying, I suggest we all move on from this" she puts it out there and for a split second you almost don't see the gravity of the situation and think the way she talks about it really minimises how you should feel.

Even Enid matches your expression giving Wednesday a puzzled look. How could you just forget about this? What could she possibly say that could stop the pure anger that was subtly building within you now?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the monotones of Wednesday

"We have apologised for spying on you" she says "You have apologised for hurting Enid" again you look away in shame, did she have to keep bringing that up like damn.

Wednesday continued as you drag your mind back the conversation at hand "I suggest we call it even and in return you will forgive us and I will halt all plans to end your life unexpectedly because of your crimes against my girlfriend" Wednesday makes a good point. Maybe this way you could start fresh almost. Yes it was wrong of them but at the same time it was wrong of you to nearly kill Enid on your first day. Seems like a good trade off

"Wow. That... That actually makes sense" you blink in surprise not expecting such a godsend and you smile lightly, recounting everything in your head. Weirdly enough, if you could all just forget about both incidents then maybe you could start building a foundation for friendship or at the very least have no qualms with eachother and not spend the rest of your days looking over your shoulders. You think you can do it.

Wednesday side eyes Enid, and smirks slightly at the puppy dog eyes she was giving her, clearly the wolf enjoys a little bit of violence in her honour. You could tell Enid was trying to contain herself from jumping her girlfriend's bones at the thought of her gerring all protective.

"Of course it makes sense I am a completely competent person with a proven track record for peacemaking" Wednesday let her face rise in another light smirk and Enid giggles. Did she just make .. a joke? Or is she serious?

You look at her quizzically

"Ok perhaps not the peacekeeping but that is what my Enid is for" you slightly giggle to yourself when Wednesday pets the werewolfs head affectionately causing her to raise her shoulders in glee, letting her eyes flutter shut at the touch of her mate.

The way she says "My Enid" and delicately trails her eyes lovingly towards her makes your heart melt and you nod

"Okay fine ..." You hold one hand out while the other still grips your shirt intensely " Truce." Quickly shaking hands with Enid, settling your emotions through meditation and earning a nod from Wednesday indicating she would decline your physical contact, you return to a less nervous state.

"Now... Can Wednesday still ... You know" Enid points to the surgical instruments and you sigh. Honestly at this point you have no choice you cant just leave so instead you say

"Yes thank you" and stand there awaiting instructions again.

"Lay on the bed" Enid motions for you to move, her tone was not demanding more a soft suggestion and you do as you're told.

You smile and lay face down, accepting the pillow Wednesday silently hands you and beginning to get more comfortable.

"How is your pain tolerance?" Wednesday asks as you hear the clatter of tools behind you. The sound urges you to twist your head around, curious as to what she was doing.

"Ummm fairly used to it" you say turning away again.

"Good" Wednesday says and you swear you can just tell she has some kind of sinister smirk covering her features.

"No not good why? Do you get into a lot of fights?" Enid asks casually pulling up a chair to the end of the bed to keep you company as Wednesday prepares her tools.

"Yeah you could say that" you let out a nervous laugh propping your head up with your hands placed under your chin for stability. It really baffles you how easy it was to get back to ... Well yeah normal is the right word you guess.

Enid smiles comforting you and says "Brace yourself" looking behind you apologetically.

"Huh?" You furrow your brow in confusion until "Fuck!" The word leaves your lips harshly as you grip the edge of the mattress in an attempt to ignore the pain you just felt as Wednesday jabs what feels like a burning rod into your scarred body.

words. And as you trail your eyes towards Enid your heart breaks for a second time at her pained expression. She must have felt terrible for bringing it up. You can't stand to see her like this.

"It's okay" you practically vomit out the words harshly trying to stop the tears that threatened Enid's eyes from falling "I- well I grew up with other children around me but no they weren't my siblings". Your mind drifts off thinking about the programme. Other children just like you nothing but numbers in rooms, day after day experiments, fighting and abuse being the core memories of your childhood. .

"So like a group home?" Enid asks and you twitch a little as Wednesday continues her handy work

"God you ask a lot of questions" you opt to deflect that one because how do you describe the home ...house... Building...you were raised in.

The tragic tales of Godmother forcing you all to enhance and control your abilities by using eachother as test dummies and the horrid realisation that this is your life forever. Forever until nevermore that is. Thank god for Nevermore. .

"How else are we suppose to get to know you" Enid smiles. She really did just want to get to know you? There was something so wholesome about her demeanor but again that little voice in your head remained skeptical so you ask "Why do you want to get to know me?" You move to prop you chin up with your hands further, elbows resting on the pillow to see more of the werewolf girl.

"So we can be friends silly" Enid pats your head similar to how Wednesday had petted her earlier and pairs it with a little "Oop" noise which was by far the cutest sound ever to leave the lips of a human.

"You guys want to be my friend?" You ask and almost smack yourself silly for how desperate and weak you sounded.

"Enid does,I prefer the term ally" Wednesday speaks from behind you once again and you crane your neck to give her a half smile in response. She barely changes her face instead running anesthetic around your wound after shooting you a quick look.

"Sure but I am a very private person" you warn hoping this might urge them to lighten up on the police style questioning you were being subjected to.

"So was Wednesday when we first met, now I know all her dirty little secrets" Enid smiles widely again and giggles menacingly.

"Yeah but she's your girlfriend that's different" you raise your eyebrows and smirk.

"I prefer the term soulmate" Wednesday chimes in preparing the hot iron for the third hole on your back.

"Soooo why did you come to Nevermore?" She continues with her "Getting to know you" plan and you bury your face in the pillow as Wednesday cauterizes your third wound. You also note that that's not what she wants to ask you. She wants to ask what you are? What you did? What happened earlier? But here she is luring you into a false sense of security. Either that or she actually planned to stick to the deal of forgiving and forgetting the events. When you don't say anything Enid looks at Wednesday. .

It's still hard to focus with the light grazes of cold fingertips trailing down your back. As Enid stops questioning you your mind races as you become more aware of the Seers hands touching your body.

Luckily you have something else to focus your attention on and instead you're watching Enid again stare at Wednesday. It's as if they are reading each others minds or something but you calm down a little trying to pay attention to the beautiful blonde Infront of you instead of the stunning darker haired girl touching your back.

Stop it. Settle your emotions. Breathing exercises. You close your eyes. God these girls really bought out all these confusing feelings and it was not good for your... Gift .

Suddenly Wednesday presses into your cut and you immediately screech out a noise you have never heard yourself emit before,burying your face into the pillow as Enid reaches for you in concern

"My apologies" she murmurs as you bite into the pillow then your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers glide up your back slowly ... This doesn't feel like she's stitching you up and you panic, what is she doing, that feels .... That's ...

""What are you-" you begin to ask but without warning she presses her full palm onto the uncut part of your upper back once again. .

The rush of feelings electrify your body, every muscle, every bone in your body seizes up and your head whips back as you feel yourself uncontrollable roll off of the bed. A swirl of golden dust surrounds the two of you ... It's happening again but this time it hurts like really hurts ... What is happening?! .

And then you see it.

Flashes. Images, drilling into your head with a migraine inducing force.

A vision of sorts rushes through your brain, partially distorted and yet painfully clear.

It's you

It's Wednesday, Enid and You. All 3 of you cuddled on a bed together. You look happy ... You look like ... You're in... Then suddenly nothing.

Darkness.

Abyss.

...

Y/N!!!" The loud whisper rings in your ears "Y/N can you hear me?" The voice is drowned out, but your vision starts to return, the blurry figures of what you know to be Wednesday and Enid looming over you

"I told you not do it yet!" You hear Enid's voice, muffling but it's. almost like static is penetrating your ears.

"I don't know what happened Cara Mia this doesn't make sense, she should not have felt anything" the sultry tone of Wednesday voice is clearer as your ears regain their ability to hear coherently

"Y/N?" The voice buzzes again

"Urrrgh" you groan, your vision finally focussing and feeling returning your limbs, as you notice you are now situated on the cold wooden floor of their dorm room.

Ouch.

Continuing to squint and widen your eyes in an attempt to sort the feelings and thoughts that accompanied the impending realisation of what had just happened

And then...

You sit up suddenly connecting the dots, the head rush it was accompanied by, threatening to bring up yesterday's dinner. Wednesday is a Seer! And you stupidly let your guard down and piggybacked on a vision she obviously induced when she pressed onto your back.

Fuck.

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imagines--galore · 7 months ago

Text

||The Thread of Fate|| Part Sixteen

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure. Allusion to death, but nothing graphic.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen,

A/N: Thank you for much for all those people who left their remarks for the last chapter. You have no idea how much it means to me!

The bird sat on the window ledge, twittering as it discovered the flowers that were sitting prettily in a vase. It hovered over the biggest one, dipping in it's long beak and drinking from the nectar it found there.

A slight disturbance from beyond the window ledge had the bird flitting about, annoyed at having it's lunch disturbed, before he flew off.

Inside the apartment Zuko groaned as his eyelids flickered. His entire body felt like he'd been kicked around by a Komodo Rhino. And his head, Spirits he felt like his head would split open any moment. His eyes felt too hot for him to open, the act hurting him almost physically.

"You're burning up." He heard his Uncle's voice echo through the darkness. The sound of water dripping reached his ears before something cool was pressed to his forehead. "You have an intense fever. This will help cool you down."

Zuko's only response was a low moan. His throat felt like it was on fire. Despite his entire body protesting, he tried his best to sit up, his arms trembled with effort. "So thirsty." He croaked, his voice weak even to his own ears.

A set of hands pressed against his shoulders, gently pushing him to lie back down. "Orora will be returning with the water soon." He hadn't even finished his sentence when the door slid open and the young waterbender girl walked in, lugging a bucket of water beside her.

"Is he awake?" At the sound of her soft voice, Zuko forced his eyes to open slightly. Despite his blurry sight, he could see as she approached him and was at his side. Placing the bucket of water next to him she tipped some water into a cup using a ladle. He felt her gently hold the back of his head as she brought the cup to his lips. "Here, drink."

As soon as he felt the cool liquid touch his lips, he drank greedily. But it wasn't enough. Pushing aside the now empty cup, he grasped the bucket of water and all but threw the water down his throat. A lot of it trickled down the side and on the mat he was lying on.

"No! Zuko don't!" He wasn't even halfway done when the bucket was snatched from his hands and thrown to the side. Loosing whatever strength he had, he fell back onto the mat.

"You can't drink that fast. Your body is too hot to take in all that cold water." He heard her. Even through the haze of his fever, he could imagine the disapproving look in her eyes. He wanted to answer back, to argue with her, but all that came from his lips was a cough which soon intensified, prompting him to curl into himself and turn to the side.

On either side of him, his Uncle and Soulmate glanced at one another, worry and anxiousness clear in their eyes.

————————–

Stuffing the last of her purchase in her bag, Orora quickly paid the vendor before she began her sprint down the dirt path. The mid-spring sun shone down hot and unrelenting. Sweat lined her forehead as she weaved her way through the slightly crowded streets. With how fast she was running it was no surprise that by the time she reached the apartment there was a stitch at her side and she was panting heavily.

But that didn't stop her from bounding up the stairs and bursting into the apartment. "I got everything Master." She managed to say as she tried to catch her breath. Iroh looked up from where he had been wringing a wet cloth sitting in the middle of the living area. Her frantic blue eyes landed on the figure lying next to him.

"Is he any better?" She asked, her voice soft as she closed the door behind her and placed her bag on the table before coming to sit on Zuko's other side.

Iroh shook his head, even as she reached out to place a gentle hand over his forehead. Orora pursed her lips. "Is the water still cool enough?" She gestured to the small bucket that Iroh was using. Her Master nodded. "It is, though we might need to change it in a little while."

She removed her hand, so that Iroh could replace it with the wet cloth he had been wringing.

Her worried gaze assessed Zuko with the eyes of a Healer.

He was shivering, despite his body being hot to the touch. Sweat lined his forehead and neck, and she was sure it covered his chest as well. Iroh had taken off his shirt a long time ago so he would be more comfortable, and covered hims with a blanket. His breathing was deep and hoarse, as if the very air hurt his throat.

A lump formed in her throat but she quickly pushed it down. This was no time to be distressed. She was a Healer, and she would do her job properly.

"I'll start making some broth and tea." She said, standing up and moving to the table where she began to take out all manners of ingredients. "They had a merchant come in with new stock, so I was able to get fresh ingredients."

Taking out a small white paper packet, she unfolded it to reveal some leaves. "The next time he wakes up, try to get him to take this tea." She said, already bending water into the small teapot and placing it atop the stove. A small clicking sound followed as she used to spark rocks to make a fire. "Its a remedy that is tried and true. We used it up North whenever someone had a high fever." She continued, as she pulled out a jar of honey. "Add some honey to it, and he'll feel much better."

"Orora."

Iroh's voice had her straightening up where she stood in front of the stove. Gulping back her nerves, she turned her head to look at her Master. He smiled at her in a gentle and reassuring manner, though his eyes shone with worry as he glanced at his nephew. "I know you are worried, but he will be fine my dear." He reassured her, seeing the film of unshed tears in her eyes.

"He was in a far worse condition after the Agni Kai with his father." She tried not to flinch at the old man's words, but couldn't help herself. "He pulled through it, and he will pull through this ailment as well."

Heaving a shuddering breath, the young girl closed her eyes briefly to compose herself. She nodded. "I'm sure he will Uncle. After all," Her gaze turned soft as she trained an affectionate smile towards the feverish Prince. "He's much too stubborn to be brought down by a simple fever."

Iroh smiled in approval. It would not do to have Orora feel dismal about Zuko's current state. It was important that she remained optimistic, and not let her worries effect her abilities as a Healer. Iroh knew she would never forgive herself if she did not do her job properly. His young pupil already had a hard life, and a harder one still up ahead, and Iroh did not want her to make it even more difficult by putting herself down.

Fate was a funny thing, he mused. He lost his son, and yet he gained two children of his own. Both of them with a desperation to be loved and accepted.

As he ran the wet cloth over his nephew's forehead once more, Iroh's resolve to be there for his two charges resolved only harder.

He would never abandon either of them if he could help it.

They'd both been disappointed by enough adults in their lives.

————————–

He was dreaming.

It was a dream.

He was the Fire Lord, sitting in the throne room of the Fire Palace, a platoon of soldiers standing at attention in front of him. The fire burning behind him cast an ominous glow about the room, strange shadows flickering and dancing as if to the sound of the flames itself.

There was no scar on his eye.

On each side of him there were pillars, and even as he stared straight ahead, he could see the two dragons circling around them out of the corner of his eyes.

One Red, one Blue.

Even if it was a dream, he could sense their raw power, the heat of the fire they were created from. And yet, he stared straight ahead, not even blinking as the Blue Dragon began to circle around him.

"It's getting late." The Dragon spoke. Zuko recognized his sister's voice. "Are you planning to retire soon, My Lord?"

Zuko stared ahead, undeterred. "I'm not tired."

But the Blue Dragon did not move away. "Relax, Fire Lord Zuko. Just let go. Give in to it. Shut your eyes for a while." The voice continued to whisper, and Zuko could feel his eyes begin to shut as he finally began to give into the exhaustion he felt.

"No, Fire Lord Zuko!" The Red Dragon growled in his Uncle's voice, as it neared him. "Do not listen to the Blue Dragon. You should get out of here right now." The Dragon urged. "Go! Before it's too late!"

But the Blue Dragon was not deterred. "Sleep now, Fire Lord Zuko." It whispered one last time before both Dragons disappeared.

Suddenly, the entire room, along with the soldiers crumble into nothing, leaving Zuko to sit on the Throne where he had been, with nothing surrounding him but utter darkness.

In front of him, twin lights blinked and the Blue Dragon appeared. "Sleep." It growled, slowly nearing him. "Just like Mother!" It opened it's maw, showing row upon row of razor sharp teeth, as it closed in rapidly.

Zuko tried to move out of the way, tried to fight back, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was watch the dragon draw nearer.

But then it disappeared.

And he saw a hooded figure in front of him. "Zuko!"

He recognized his voice. He wanted so badly to call out to her, and say that he was there, but no sound would come out of it.

His mother sounded just as frightened as she looked as she lowered her hood to look at him with helpless eyes.

"Help me!"

He had almost held up his hand to reach out to her, but then the floor opened up beneath him and he fell through, his cries echoing in the unending darkness that surrounded him.

————————–

The tea had steeped enough, so she quickly brought it over to Iroh. Silently, she spooned some honey into a cup, her eyes flitting to Zuko who was starting to stir. Iroh poured the tea.

"You should know that this is not a natural sickness, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying tea." The Prince sat up, his body still trembling with the effort.

"What's happening?" He asked, his voice sounding just as weak as he looked.

"Your critical decision." Iroh replied. Orora gave him a confused look. "What you did beneath that lake. It was in such conflict with your image of yourself that you are now at war within your own mind and body." He urged Zuko to drink more of the warm liquid Orora had prepared.

"What's that mean?" It seemed even the briefest of conversations was enough to have him coughing. He quickly laid back down, his entire body jolting with every cough.

"You are going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be."

Wasn't he already beautiful though? Orora wandered, pouring some more tea in case Iroh needed a cup as well. "But Master why now when he helped free Appa? He saved my life at the North Pole, wouldn't that have been against his image as well?" She asked, curiously.

Iroh hummed. "I suspect my dear, that when he saved you he did so unconsciously. He went ahead and did what was instinct for him because you are his soulmate, even though he did not know it at the time."

Adjusting Zuko's blankets the Dragon of the West continued. "When he freed the Bison, it was a conscious effort on his part, which is why his body is warring within itself."

Orora pursed her lips, her blue eyes flitting to look at Zuko's face. He'd drifted back to sleep.

————————–

Another dream.

He was at the North Pole.

He was at the bridge where he had fought Zhao.

The moon was still red where she hung in the sky.

And in front of him, halfway down the bridge stood Zhao.

Holding Orora captive.

With a finger aimed at the side of her head, the tip of it alight with a vicious flame.

"No!" The cry ripped through him from the very depths of his being. He stumbled forward, his arm held out as if to reach Orora. But then he found them being held in place by two armored Fire Nation soldiers. Zhao only smiled cruelly.

"I would do the world a service by getting rid of such watertribe filth." He growled. Zuko's eyes met hers. She stared back at him, blue eyes full utter terror, cheeks stained with the tears that were rapidly falling.

"Zuko." She called out, her entire body seemed to tremble.

His heart stopped.

She sounded scared.

She sounded so scared.

"What would your father say when he finds out your soulmate is nothing but a commoner? A waterbender no less." Zhao sneered, looking at Orora with a disgusted look on his face.

He pressed his finger closer prompting Orora to whimper in fright as the flame burned closer to her skin. "Don't!" Zuko shouted, struggling against his captors. They didn't so much as flinch.

"Better that I take care of her now, then let your father deal with such filth."

So saying, he threw Orora to the side. Zuko saw her hit her head at the edge of the bridge, the skin above her temple splitting open, bright red blood escaping the wound and trickling down her beautiful brown skin. She slumped to the floor, barely conscious.

"Orora!" He struggled again, growling viciously, as she weakly lifted her head to look at him, her blue eyes already lifeless and dull.

"Orora!"

Zhao raised his hand, a bright yellow flame burning wickedly in his palm, ready to strike.

Ready to kill.

————————–

Orora pursed her lips.

"Its been hours. His fever should be coming down now." She hummed, looking at the shivering Prince. Her eyes darted to the small bucket of water that Iroh was still using. She scowled.

"It's not doing enough work." She stated, standing up. Without a backward glance she was out of the apartment, and marching down to the community well. Standing next to it she reached down with her arms, calling to the water that flowed underground and pulled up a huge bubble of water.

Circling her arms in the air in graceful strokes, the determined waterbender slowly made her way back up the stairs. She shifted the shape of the bubble whenever was necessary. Her brow creased in a frown of concentration as she focused on carrying the huge bubble up to the apartment.

Once inside she slowly walked to the washing area behind a decorative screen. Her arms lowered as the bubble of water settled into the large wooden tub. The water lapped gently against the edge before it settled. Without so much as a break in her stride, she quickly walked back to where Iroh was sitting.

Understanding what she was about to do, he had already pulled Zuko up, resting one arm over his shoulder to help his nephew to the tub. Orora took his other arm, trying to be as gentle as possible.

The Prince barely stirred as they half carried, half dragged him to the now full tub. With Orora holding him from under his arms, and with Iroh lifting from his feet, they managed to lower him into the cool water.

"Let me get a pillow for his head." Iroh said, quickly grabbing the pillow Zuko had been using and placing it under his nephew's head where it rested at the edge of the bath tub.

Beside him, Orora took a deep breath.

She raised her arms, palms facing downwards, her fingers relaxed and at level with the bath tub. The water began to glow as she allowed her Healing Abilities to flow through her body, to the tips of her fingers and into the water.

Her arms moved in a constant push and pull motion. The water followed her movement, back and forth along Zuko's feverish body.

Iroh stood beside her, watching on with utter fascination as his pupil concentrated on the task at hand. Never once did she falter in her movements, or lost concentration. The water continued to glow. Iroh wasn't sure how her abilities would heal Zuko since it wasn't a physical ailment he suffered from, but he was not about to stop Orora from trying.

"I shall go and prepare something to eat for both of you." He said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She gave a slight nod of her head in confirmation, her gaze never wavering from the face of the Prince as he continued to breath hoarsely.

————————–

Darkness.

All around him.

Nothing but darkness.

He was ten years old, his face buried in his arms, trying not to cry but failing. Even his firebending wasn't working. He felt weak and useless.

Exactly how his father made him feel.

He looked up, only to see a vision of his father standing above him, ready to strike and burn him.

Azula was born lucky

His father's voice echoed around him, magnified a hundred times over.

You were lucky to be born.

Over and over, the words continued to repeat in his father's hateful tone. There was no stopping it. No getting out of the nightmare. No one was coming to help him.

No one.

Something flickered.

He opened his tear filled eyes.

Blue.

A blue light flickering.

Flickering where the thread was tied around his finger.

His lips parted in surprise as the flicker became a continuous glow and slowly grew in length, snaking away from him and into the darkness.

The voices around him had begun to muffle as he turned his attention to the glowing string.

"Well, are you going to follow it?"

Zuko blinked and he wasn't surrounded by darkness anymore.

He was on a beach, the setting sun casting a warm red glow, bathing the sky in a gorgeous orange hue. The surf lapped gently at his feet, and he could feel the sand between his toes. There was no denying what this location was.

Ember Island, where his family used to come for vacation when they had been significantly happier.

But all of this wasn't what had his heart lurching in his throat.

It was actually the sight of his cousin standing just a few feet in front of him, smiling and very much alive.

Zuko couldn't help himself. He dashed forward, kicking up sand as he went and enveloping Lu Ten in a fierce embrace. The older prince chuckled, returning the hug.

"I've missed you too, Zuko." He spoke, affection coloring his tone as he smiled at him. "You've grown so much." Lu Ten added, stepping back from the hug to look at him properly. "You'll be as tall as I was."

Zuko pulled back only to star at Lu Ten who chuckled. "Yes, I really am gone Zuko, this is just something your mind has come up with."

Finally gaining back the ability to speak, Zuko voiced his thoughts. "I don't understand, what're you doing here?" He asked to which Lu Ten ruffled his hair playfully. "I'm here to guide you back home."

Stepping aside, he pointed to a building a little ways down the beach. Zuko frowned. "But, isn't home the Fire Palace?" He asked. Lu Ten smiled and shook his head.

"You'll know the meaning of the word home on your own Zuko. But for now, follow your string." He nodded towards Zuko's finger which still glowed blue. Raising his hand, Zuko realized the string was actually leading him towards the house.

He glanced at his cousin.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

A sad smile pulled at his cousin's lips as he shook his head. "I'm afraid not. You have to finish your journey on your own Zuko."

Feeling his heart clench, Zuko nodded reluctantly. "Un-Uncle misses you. A lot." The mention of his father, Lu Ten sighed deeply, his own eyes filling with a sorrow that even Zuko felt. "And I miss him. I wish our time wasn't cut short so soon, but fate had other plans." Placing a hand on Zuko's shoulder, Lu Ten continued.

"I am glad he has you Zuko. You are a great comfort to him." Zuko pursed his lips, looking crestfallen. "Can't you come back with me?" It was a childish question he knew, but he couldn't help himself.

Lu Ten shook his head sadly. "You know I cannot. But you can go back. You have to go back." He smiled. "Father can't loose a son a second time."

Trying hard to hold back his tears, to no avail, Zuko hugged his cousin, trying his best to commit his presence and his scent to memory, even if it was a dream. It was a good long while before he unwound his arms from around his cousin, who had been returning the hug with just as much heart and soul. "Be true to yourself Zuko, and always follow your own path." So saying, the former prince of the Fire Nation stepped away. "Take care of him for me little cousin. Now go! There is someone waiting for you!"

One moment he was there, and the next Zuko blinked and Lu Ten was gone.

He allowed himself a few moments to process what had just happened, before he turned his attention to the string that still glowed on his finger. Looking up at the house in the distance, he began to walk towards it.

And though it looked like it was a lot further down the beach, it didn't take him long to reach. As he drew closer, he saw a figure standing at the top of the stairs that led up to the entrance.

A figure dressed in the calm yet beautiful blue of the Water Tribe, with a red sash tied around their waist.

The person turned, and smiled at him.

And Zuko felt the whole world stop.

Orora.

"What took you so long?" She asked, looking so beautiful as she stood there with her hair so much longer then he had ever seen. Her gorgeous brown skin glowed in the setting sun, and her eyes looked like the very light of the stars was dancing in them. Zuko stood at the bottom of the steps, mesmerized by her. Orora held out a hand, the hand that glowed with her own string.

Her glow was red, of course.

"I've been waiting for you." She said, her voice soft, beckoning him to her. Watching her standing there, looking at him with such trust and adoration, her hair swaying gently in the breeze, Zuko didn't hesitate to take the last few steps towards her, his hand held out in front of him.

The moment their hands clasped together, fingers intertwining, he pulled her in for an embrace.

One that had the last remnant of darkness leaving his soul completely.

————————–

She had no idea how long she continued her Healing Session. All she knew was that by the time she was done, his body had stopped shivering and he didn't look as flushed as before. Her arms ached when she finally stopped. Her feet ached from where she had been standing for so long.

Very nearly slumping to the ground, Orora quickly caught herself on the edge of the bath tub. Her Superiors had warned her that using her Healing Abilities for so long would take a toll on her. Tiredness and hunger, two things that could be taken care of easily, but it didn't stop the body from feeling like it had been drained of it's very essence.

Iroh who had just changed Zuko's mat and blanket, patted her shoulder. "That is quite enough, my dear. You go and eat the food I have prepared. I shall finish getting him out and dressing him in dry clothes."

Too tired to even speak let alone argue, Orora shuffled her way out to the living area. There on the table was a bowl of hot soup. Spooning the warm broth into her mouth, one bite after another, she felt the exhaustion she was experiencing begin to settle into her bones. She had over-exerted herself. It would take time for her to recover properly.

It didn't take long for her to finish her meal and chase it down with a cool cup of water. By the time she was done, Iroh had already helped Zuko back on the mat. How he'd been able to lift his nephew was a mystery to Orora, but she couldn't think properly right then.

Instead she stumbled to Zuko's side laying down as she did, her head feeling just as heavy as her body. While Iroh moved to get a blanket and pillow for her as well, Zuko stirred slightly.

"Orora." He called out softly, his voice still hoarse from coughing.

She reached out to gently take his hand in her own. He opened his eyes halfway as he turned his head to look at her laying beside him. With whatever strength he had, he squeezed her hand.

"You're alright." He whispered in that same voice, though relief colored his tone. "You're here."

Orora was too tired to contemplate on what he was saying. Instead, she smiled at him and returned the squeeze with her own.

"I'm here, Zuko." She whispered, and her words seemed to reassure him that she was, indeed, fine. His eyes closed, and he went back to sleep, his breathing easy and no longer labored.

The young waterbender had been too tired to notice just how cool his hand felt as she too drifted off to sleep.

It was how Iroh found them a moment later. Asleep next to each other, holding hands.

The thread between them flickering with color for a good long while.

————————–

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lucid-loves · 15 days ago

Text

Black Blood Red Kiss ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley ~ Part 2

Pairing: Ghost x vampire!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Fangs”)

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, biting, teasing, kisses, grinding, dry humping, office sex.

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: Being turned into a vampire never stopped you from joining the military. In fact, it only made it easier for you with new strength, stamina, reflexes, and precision. The only challenge you now faced was keeping your true nature a secret. This is incredibly difficult to do when your new teammate, Ghost, smells so delicious. What will happen to your relationship with him once you both get a dangerous taste of each other?

Chapter Synopsis: Hoping that Ghost would forget about the bite, you've been dodging all of his efforts to talk to you. With an acute sense of his scent, it has been easy. Ghost finds a way to corner you, though, and things quickly get heated in more ways than one. (SMUT ALERT)

Part 1 ~ Part 2

Damn it, how much longer was he going to tail you? Ever since you bit him, Ghost has been trying to talk about it with you. You knew based on how he tried to approach you. Purposeful. Urgent. Each step he took said he was a man on a mission.

And you have been doing your best to completely avoid him.

Since the night you tore away on your motorcycle after drinking his blood, your mind has been scrambled. Horny, hungry, and anxious. You didn't mean to bite him. Instinct to satiate your hunger just took over. And now your whole life was in jeopardy if Ghost put the pieces together.

That's probably what he wanted to confirm with you.

Ignoring his sharp gazes, walking off before he could speak, and changing directions once you smelled him has helped you avoid the confrontation. Yeah, the boys thought you hated his guts, but it was better than having to explain that you were secretly a vampire.

Fighting maddening arousal too since you had to leave yourself hanging.

“That's all. Meeting adjourned.” Captain Price dismissed everyone after a rather long, agonizingly boring meeting. General overviews always had you feeling bored out of your mind. Besides the fact that this was a mandatory meeting, Ghost was also driving you nuts by sitting next to you the entire time.

He was sure to catch you this time.

Yet, as soon as Price dismissed the team, you bolted right out of the room. Before anyone even stood up, you were gone. At this point, Ghost was getting pissed. He's been chasing you all week.

When you dined and dashed on him, it left him stunned and unbelievably excited. He was so startled that he didn't stick around with the boys at the bar. All he did was say goodbye and head home. There wasn't a single second where his mind wasn't on you.

Aside from wanting an explanation on what happened that night, he's been dying to get some of your attention again.

But all he got from you was the cold shoulder.

Soap gave a small chuckle to lighten the mood. “You make her angry or something, L.T? It looks like she’s been avoiding you like the plague.”

“Kinda spooky how she knows when he’s coming too. One moment, I’m talking to her. The next, she’s out the door. Then just a second later, Ghost is in her place.” Gaz chimed in, his own nosiness coming through.

All Ghost did was give a curt grunt. He didn’t have a good answer for them. Were you angry at him? No, probably not. How could he explain that you drank his blood though? This was between you and him.

Price, noticing the growing tension, waved Soap and Gaz away to talk to Ghost in private. Like the observant captain that he is, he has realized that you were completely avoiding his lieutenant unless it was mandatory to be with him. At this point, he was concerned that something was splitting his team apart. “You didn’t get into a fight with Fangs, did you?”

Ghost looked away and crossed his arms. “Not exactly.”

“Then what? We are supposed to be a team. I’m not saying that you are at fault here since I don’t have the full context, but that’s exactly what I’m trying to understand. Can you give me anything that could help patch things up between the both of you?” Captain urged, taking this as seriously as a combat zone.

“To be honest, Captain. Even I don’t know the full context. I’m still figuring it out.”

“Well, figure it out soon if you can. We can’t have this strain during a mission.”

With those final orders, Ghost left the conference room with a heavy heart. That was it. He was going to talk to you now, whether you liked it or not.

Jesus, fucking finally! You have been around the entire base hiding from Ghost, and he finally disappeared. You had better speed and stamina as a vampire, but anyone would be exhausted trying to avoid a very stubborn man. You have barely gotten any work done all day since working at your desk was a no-go. You had no choice but to hang out in the ammo closet within the shooting range, laptop in hand to get what you could done. Unless you wanted to play the reverse bloodhound game with him again, it was gunpowder city for you.

After working for several hours to catch up, it was close to midnight when everyone should be done with work, asleep, or heading home. There was no way in hell Ghost should still be looking for you. Any sane person would have called it a night. With this benefit of the doubt, you exited the closet, returned your laptop to your desk, and began gathering your things.

You didn’t even notice him standing within the shadow near the door.

When the door closed, you jumped, startled that he could sneak up on you like this. Damn ammo closet probably clogged your sense of smell with the metallic scent of gunpowder. It didn’t help that Ghost always seemed to vaguely smell of it too. You cursed under your breath and attempted to take your leather jacket off from your desk chair.

A large hand held it down in place. “Talk to me, Fangs. What happened that night?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s forget it ever happened.” You tried to brush off, avoiding eye-contact as much as you could.

Ghost wasn’t ready to let up. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week about it. You’re not avoiding this.”

You scoffed and tugged the jacket out from under his grip. “It’s personal.”

“Yeah, it is fucking personal.” He agreed in his own way, before taking your wrists in his hands. Firm so you couldn’t escape like you always did, but gentle enough not to hurt you. To stop you from pushing and pulling, he stood extremely close to you. With your back against the desk and your chest facing his, you were pinned.

Even now, as irritated as you were, you were still so beautiful. “Tell me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

He had you now. You took your job so seriously that you wouldn’t dare disobey a direct order. Being on your best behavior made people less suspicious of your real identity. This habit still stuck. Clicking your tongue, you prepared to say goodbye to the life you worked hard to build.

“Isn’t it obvious? I drank your blood because I’m a hungry vampire. I hadn’t eaten in a while and you were a meal right in front of me. Anything else, Lieutenant?” You confessed with venom, hoping to somehow hurt him before he could hurt you.

The tension between the two of you was heated. Thick. Ghost had never heard you be so aggressively defensive before. So insulting with your tone. However, he knew you spoke the truth, as much as it sounded hard to believe. If you didn’t bite him that night, he probably wouldn’t have believed you.

Ghost wasn’t done yet. There was another pressing matter he needed to get closure on. The matter that did make all of this really personal. “When you bit me, it didn’t feel painful. Quite the opposite. Why?”

You finally met his eyes and blinked a few times incredulously. Was that really important right now? Was he really asking you why he was hard for you?! Your cheeks rapidly grew red with his blunt questions. The gunpowder stench that lingered on your nose was beginning to fade, allowing that sweet and spicy scent of Ghost to make your heart race.

Fuck, why did he have to smell so fucking good?! Why did his eyes have to be so blue?!

Ghost was feeling the pull too. It happened when he first saw your vulnerable side and it was happening now. His heart beat loudly in his chest as you became flustered. Brows furrowing in both frustration and embarrassment. Cheeks turning a cute rosy hue. Chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried not to lose the cool everyone knew you as.

Without even getting bitten first, Ghost wanted to fuck you right on your desk.

“Bite me.”

“Wh-What?!” You stuttered, unsure if you heard him right.

Ghost leaned forward closer to speak directly into your reddening ears. His voice became husky as he lifted up some balaclava to reveal a smooth neck. “Bite me, Fangs. That’s an order.”

Reacting on a mix of vampire and soldier instinct, you bit into him to taste his delicious blood. Electricity zipped on your tongue as you drank, the energy traveling all throughout your body. Power. Arousal. Fuck, this was good.

With a burst of strength, you broke out of his grasp and put him in yours instead. It was so sudden that Ghost had to brace his hands on the desk, papers and mugs shaking from the force. Sharp nails dug into his skin, tugged at his shirt, pulled him closer. Pressing your bodies together, you moaned, sending vibrations through Ghost that had him hiss from the sudden pleasure.

Of course, he was as hard as a rock. His cock pressed tight against his pants almost painfully. The bite didn’t even hurt with how strong the aphrodisiac effect was. But he was still unaware if you felt it too. To test this, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the desk. Now in between your legs, he pressed his clothed erection into your covered, dripping cunt. Just for a second.

That second was enough. Your body tensed and you moaned sharply. Dizziness overcame you so bad from your lost breath that you had to stop drinking. Panting hard, you tried to regain some control.

Ghost lost all of his, though.

Without a second thought, he took your hips into his hands and grinded into you some more. You gasped and released a melodic moan that just made Ghost more eager. Damnit, if there weren’t any fucking clothes in the way he would take you now.

For now, he wanted to make you cum just like this. Not that you were going to stop him at this point. You wanted to cum so badly too. Ever since last week you’ve wanted him to make you cum. His grip on you, the lingering taste of him, and bated breaths only heightened the feeling. The teasing. Your panties were hot and soaked for him. A dark, wet spot was starting to spread through the fabric of your pants.

“F-Fuck!” You whimpered, brows furrowing and back arching in hopes to make more pleasurable friction. Legs began to tremble as the pleasure spread. Drool began to drip down the corner of your mouth with how much you were salivating. Fuck, just a little bit more!

You weren’t the only one that was going crazy. Ghost was struggling to not tear your clothes apart with his bare hands. Miraculously, he was close to cumming just from the clothed grinding too. It was like you were a drug. A sexy, beautiful, blood-thirsty one. He couldn’t get enough of the way you cursed within your moans. How you moved your hips in-sync with his for more.

Your toes curled as you teetered right on the edge of orgasm. The feverish friction on your clit, against your folds, all of your wetness spreading around was getting too much. Noticing how close you were, Ghost grinded harder. Even if you squirmed, you weren’t going anywhere. Not again.

Eyes fluttered closed as the feeling overtook you. Before you knew it, you were screaming it all out, pussy tightening around nothing. You wished that his cock was buried deep inside you so badly that it almost hurt. The grip you had on his shirt was sure to stretch the fabric out. Not that Ghost cared. All he could focus on was how fucking hot it was to watch you climax which triggered his own.

You felt the pressure of his hands on you to keep you still. You noticed how he froze and held his breath before choking out a groan. Witnessing how much your lieutenant could fall apart in pleasure turned you on.

But, you were done. The both of you were. For now, at least. As you both tried to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your temples, you got back on the ground to be on your feet. Every nerve in your body felt like jelly, but at least some of the pent-up arousal you’ve been holding in all week was relieved. Not only that, you were recovering faster from the recent meal.

Out of habit, you began to put on your jacket to leave. Yet, Ghost wasn’t ready to let you go. His voice sounded deeper and strained when he spoke. “Wait. We’re not done talking.”

You sighed, exhaustion now a thing of the past for you. “You plan on telling everyone what I really am?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” He replied resolutely, startling you. There wasn’t a shred of dishonesty in his blues that told you otherwise.

It didn’t make sense on why he would keep this secret for you, but you weren’t going to question it. You didn’t want to give him second thoughts. “Then what? What else needs to be said?”

Ghost felt a sting in his heart from your curtness. Making you cum didn’t seem to soften your edges at all.

He wanted to fix that. Taking your hand gently in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m your Lieutenant. Rely on me more.”

Your heart skipped a beat from this gentle and confident side of his. The desire to kiss him passed through you for a moment. You haven’t even seen his face yet, but you knew that Ghost would be your undoing if you weren’t careful.

Pulling your hand back, you headed towards the door. With your back still turned to him, you paused at the doorway. “I’ll let you know when I’m hungry.”

“And I’ll feed you. Promise.”

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virginsexgod69 · 7 months ago

Text

3| Stormy Weather

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

summary You and Daryl get to know each other while cooped up in the bathroom, hiding from the tornado

cw none! This chapter is chill, but kinda heavy in dialogue

1.1k words

Series Masterlist

You and Daryl were both crammed in the empty bathtub, toe to toe with each of your knees to your chests. You didn’t know why you were in the bathtub, but it’s what you remember doing during tornadoes as a child. It was definitely awkward. The two of you sat in silence, avoiding eye contact.

“So,” you said, opening the door to awkward conversation, his blue eyes snapped up at you. “Did you have a camp before I found you?”

“Yeah. Lived in the prison with my group. You been here the whole time?” He asked. You sighed and nodded your head, not liking the direction the conversation you started was headed in. “Somewhat. A little after the outbreak, a couple of us took shelter here in my hus- ex husband’s cabin.” You cringed at your almost slip up.

“Anyway! How’d you get split from your group?” He told you about a man who called himself the Governor and the atrocities he committed on his group. You cringed at the story of what he went through. Because your cabin was in the middle of nowhere, you never really had run ins with any other people, save for the few times you’ve ran into people during runs. You hadn’t realized, or seen first hand how depraved people have become. You were grateful that it was Daryl who stumbled upon your cabin instead of someone like the man from his story.

“You by yerself now, too?” He asked.

“Nope. I shot a stranger and now he’s in an empty bathtub with me,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. A small smile graced his handsome face at your joke. He didn’t need to know that you were all alone in your cabin because your scumbag of a husband abandoned you in the midst of the apocalypse, so you didn’t tell him.

“When the weather clears up, are you gonna go out lookin’ for your friends? You asked. He grunted in the affirmative. You couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy you felt. He had people and he seemed pretty dedicated to them. You wondered if they even knew how lucky they were to have someone who’d look for them when they got split up, instead of having someone who couldn’t wait to ditch them, like the people you had.

“How nice of you,” you bitterly remarked. You didn’t mean to come off so cruel, but for the first time since meeting Daryl, you noticed how lonely you really were. He didn't say anything, but just glared at you.

"I'm goin' to sleep. Wake me up if something happens." You got as comfortable as you could with your pillow and closed your eyes, willing sleep to come quickly.

A loud thud and the sound of glass shattering jolted you awake. You looked around hastily in your state of disorientation before your eyes landed on Daryl and everything started coming back.

"W-what happened?" you asked blearily.

"Think a tree fell through a window." Panic shot through your spine. You couldn’t afford any damage to the cabin. Not only was this your home which held so many memories, both good and bad, but this place has kept you safe from the outside’s dangers for so long. A broken window would compromise that.

“I need to go check, I’ll be back,” you said as you scrambled out the tub and rushed for the door.

“Ain’ no point in checkin’ now. Storm’s still goin’,” Daryl nonchalantly said from the empty tub. He was right and you knew it, but you couldn’t help but feel drawn to leave. Anxiety clawed at your chest causing you to pace in circles around the small bathroom.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asked, unable to tune out your nervous behavior. He wondered if it had anything to do with those two locked rooms.

“Nothin’, I’m just worried about my house is all,” you told the half truth.

“It’s gon’ be fine. It didn’ seem like the tornado’s gon come through here.” Whether he said that to comfort you or not, you couldn’t tell, but it did help you relax a little.

“Were you a meteorologist before all this or somethin’?” You teased.

“Nah,” came his reply. Suddenly interested in the man, you sat down on the ledge of the tub to question him further.

“What did you do before all this, anyway?”

He removed his thumb from between his lips before he replied with an unsatisfying “Nothin.” You raised your eyebrows at him in disbelief. You didn’t know much, or anything, about him, but people who do nothing don’t usually look like Daryl. “I highly doubt that, but I’m guessin’ this is a touchy subject.” Maybe, if he ends up staying here long enough, he’d open up eventually.

“I was a marriage counselor, which is kinda ironic since I couldn’t save my own marriage,” you said before laughing to yourself. You had a tendency to overshare when you felt an awkward silence needed to be filled and right now it was biting you in the ass. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from sharing more about yourself since Daryl seemed not to be in the mood for conversation.

“I jus’ stuck with my brother. Did what he did. Drugs an’ stuff like that,” he replied vaguely.

“Oh wow, I would’ve guessed you were a model or somethin’.”

“Wha’ makes ya think that?” He asked.

“Pfff, look in a mirror when you get the chance.” You wouldn’t even try to deny that the man was good looking. Whenever you made eye contact with him, you felt timid under his piercing blue gaze. When you turned to face him, his ears were a soft pink and the skin of his thumb between his teeth.

You were woken up by Daryl gently shaking your shoulder. You blinked your eyes open and saw him towering over you, standing outside of the bathtub.

“C’mon, storm’s calmed down,” he informed as he held a hand out to help you up, which you accepted. Heat tingled in your cheeks when your hand touched his warm one. Your uncertainty from earlier rapidly made a reappearance and you hurried out the bathroom with a curious Daryl not far behind. You sighed in relief when you saw that the living room was fine, relatively untouched by the horrid weather. You then hurried back down the hallway and dug around in your pants pockets until you pulled out a key. Daryl watched closely as you hurriedly unlocked the door. In truth, he wanted to get inside and see where you were hiding his stuff. Even though it was raining pretty hard again, he knew he’d find a sense of comfort knowing where they were in case he needed them beforehand.

When Daryl first found out those doors were locked, he figured you were keeping something like an armory or pantry out of his reach, considering that he was just a stranger in your home. When you opened the door, he realized that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next Chapter ►

WOO! 3rd chapter, hell yea! >=] thanks for reading <3333

maybe this was kinda obvious, but i have no idea what to do during a tornado! i'm more of an earthquake girlie

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Taglist

@eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean

#the walking dead #fanfic #x reader #female reader #daryl dixon #fic rec #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fanfiction

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nethhiri · 9 months ago

Text

Marooned: Chapter 15

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Hangovers and Hang-ups

Killer leaned against the wall of Kid's workshop while Kid took a closer look at your log pose. "What's your plan with her?" Killer had taken care of you until you passed out. He had thrown you over his shoulder and taken you to Kid's huge bathtub. He had thought about tucking you into his bed so you would be more comfortable; he knew you would have a raging hangover in the morning and Killer could always sleep in Kid's bed so you could have his room to yourself. As nice as he could be, and even after you treated him, he didn't want you to puke in his sheets, so he settled for a pillow and comforter thrown into the tub with you. It would be easier to clean if you threw up there. He felt bad about leaving you in clothes covered in now-stale beer, but he felt worse when he thought about taking them off, unable to shake the image of your mouth around his fingers while your eyes burned into his through the holes in his mask. It brought heat rushing up his neck thinking about it now.

Kid shrugged. "Wire said we have another week until we get ta the next island. Our deal was that she gets off there." He continued to tinker with the log pose. "If I still want to fuck her by then, I'll make her change her mind. We need a doctor anyway."

"I think we need to figure out who she is before you think about keeping her on this ship, if she even wants to stay. You don't think it's odd that she won't tell anyone her name? That she can put up a fight?" Killer picked up your weapon that had been sitting on the corner of Kid's bench. It was a unique design, though he was certain he had seen something like it before. "Do you remember when we first started out, the time we got intercepted by marines?"

"Nah. Why?"

"No reason." It was fuzzy, yet the tool in his hands made Killer keep thinking back to that time. Something was there. He wanted to be sure before he brought it to Kid's attention. "If she doesn't want anyone to know her name, she must think we'll recognize it, which brings a few possibilities: she's from a rival crew, she's a marine, or she has a bounty. Maybe a combination of those. And then there's the separate matter of what she told me last night about not being able to swim. She might have a Devil Fruit."

Kid cackled. "If Trafalgar or Strawhat had a bonnie lass like that on their crew, I would have kidnapped her in Sabaody. Those two losers haven't seen a tit in their lives. Wouldn't even know what ta do with pussy." Kid seemed pleased with himself, whether it was from his own jab or his tinkering was unclear. The log pose split into two halves in front of him. "What a shit log pose... If a marine has a name that big, they would be an admiral and she isn't one." Kid paused to think, "Don't we have some old bounty posters somewhere? Go through them with Heat and see if she's there." Kid looked at the dials more closely. "Killer, look at this." His took one off and flipped it upside down.

Killer moved to the bench, setting your gun down. He picked up the pose's needle that Kid removed. "There's... a small piece of paper."

Kid took the other two needles off. "These too." The three needles on the table shifted, ever so slightly, in three separate directions.

"Those are vivre cards!" Killer was impressed with the ingenuity. It wasn't a real log pose at all, it was a tracker of sorts, and it seemed to be aimed at three people. Family? Friends? Or... enemies.

"What a clever little bitch." Kid reassembled it so that you wouldn't know it had been tampered with. "No wonder she wanted it back so badly." Kid had been confused initially. He showed it to Wire, who compared it to their own log pose, and concluded that it was broken since the needles didn't point the same as theirs.

"You mean no wonder she would tolerate fucking you for this long otherwise." Killer dodged a wrench launched in his direction.

Kid shoved the log pose in his pocket. He did say he would give it back. "DON'T BE JEALOUS!"

"I'm not," Killer said in a teasing tone, getting ready to slip out the door.

Kid narrowed his eyes in his best friend's direction. "Did she fuck you?" He thought back to what you had said before emptying your stomach over the railing. "KILLER?!"

The masked man left Kid's workshop with his captain's shouting trailing after him and a sly grin on his face. Killer thought it was fun to ruffle Kid's feathers and get him worked up. Killer knew Kid wouldn't be mad if he had fucked you; Kid simply liked keeping track of his playthings. And Killer also knew that Kid would have wanted to compare notes to make sure you weren't holding out on him.

Grumbling, Kid examined your weapon. He had made some improvements to it so that it met his standards. Kid was going to present it to you at the party as a gift, but he decided at the last minute that would be lame. It didn't have anything to do with the scenarios in his head where you didn't like it that left his hands clammy. He wasn't even going to do much to it, but he ran out of things to do when Killer told him his helmet was fixed and that he didn't need a new one. That concerned Kid for two reasons: anyone but him would have to weld it back together and there were no weld marks.

It fucking sucked waking up. You were sore from being in the hard tub all night, you were nauseated, and you had the worst headache of your life. For a while, you had turned on the hot water, still in clothes, and let it rain down on you after moving the pillow and sheets that Killer had left you out of the tub. There wasn't a lot that you remembered from last night other than winning a pair of pants, that you would be sure to collect on, and Killer holding your hair back when you got sick. How embarrassing... like a damn teenager. You pulled yourself up with a groan, plopped the soaked dress on the floor, and washed all of last night off.

When you were drying off, you heard a soft knock from Killer's end of the bathroom. You hadn't noticed the first time, but the captain's room and the first mate's were joined by this bathroom, a door on each end. Throwing the sheets around your shoulders to cover yourself, you opened the door to Killer's towering frame.

"You look like shit."

You blinked at him, simultaneously offended and amused. "I feel like shit."

He moved to let you walk past him. "You should drink some water."

You looked around. His room was more simple and less dark than Kid's. "Thank you, Dr. Massacre Soldier. I'll take that into consideration." It felt like an intrusion to sit directly on his bed. There weren't any chairs and he wasn't kicking you out though, so you sat on the floor next to the wall, bringing the sheet over your head to block the light. There was a creak as Killer's weight sank on his bed across from you.

"Wire says it'll be about a week before we reach the next island. What will you do then?"

The pounding in your head nearly drowned out his question. "Eager to get rid of me, huh?"

"No one's making you leave."

"Not yet."

"You know, you don't have to be a smart-ass all the time. There's no need to be so defensive" Killer couldn't gauge your reaction under the sheet. "You think you're so special that we'll even give a shit who you are?"

That made you laugh. "Well now you're just making me sound like an asshole." You uncovered your face to look Killer in the eyes, well, mask holes. "It's not about who I am. It's about who I used to be."

"We've all done things we aren't proud of... except Kid. I don't think he has regrets." Killer offered.

You sat up, pulling your knees in and burying your face in them. "The thing is... I was proud of it. Until I learned my career was a sham. Wasted part of my life doing..." You sighed. "Killer, I know you're trying to be sympathetic or whatever and I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm only trying to make it to land alive, so I can do what I have to do." You stood up and mumbled on your way out, "I've already been ripped apart and left for dead by a crew once. Don't need to relive it." It was impossible to be betrayed again if you had no one close enough to do so.

#kid x reader x killer #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #one piece #eustass kid x reader #killer x reader #marooned #x reader

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doe-eyed-fool · 6 months ago

Text

Prey | Chapter Seven

Alastor x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions Of Murder

The silence, was worst than rejection. This was a mistake. Probably the biggest mistake you've ever made. Of course Alastor wouldn't feel the same. You two had been friends for a long time. If he really felt the same way towards you, he would have done something by now. Wouldn't he?

Then again, Alastor had never shown much interest in relationships of the romantic type. You've not once heard him talk of a special lady in his life. And he most certainly could have any of them. So maybe it just wasn't meant to be...

"I-I'm sorry! I don't know why I asked that!" You say with a light laugh. "I mean, I know you like me. We're friends after all. That was a silly question, I'm sorry..." You try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes as you continued.

"Um, I think I'll be alright by myself for now. You can leave, I'll be fine." You motion your hand to the door and turn away from him. "I really should get to tidying up the place. It's a mess, like I said. And anyhow, I should be focusing on what I'm going to sing for my next performance. Can't be distracted, so if you'll please-"

Alastor caught your hand and spun you back to face him. "Y/n." He said firmly. You go quiet and avoid his eyes. Great. Not only had you confessed and gotten rejected, if that wasn't embarrassing enough, you just made a fool of yourself by rambling on like an idiot.

There were no hiding the tears now. You inwardly sigh and await for the worst.

"It seems you've misunderstood me." Said Alastor. Yes. You know that. You are more than painfully aware. Why did he have to rub it in? "And it seems I've been less than gentlemanly. What kind of man treats a woman on like I have been?"

Wait, what? You glance at him, a bit confused. Alastor sighs. "Y/n, I'm sure you know how I feel about these kinds of things. Romance and all that. So, I'm sure you also understand how this might feel for me, indulging in such things."

Now you were really confused. You face him properly. "What are you saying?" You ask. "I do like you, Y/n, to put it simply." Alastor says, making your heart stop for a moment. "It's just a shame I couldn't, and still cant, tell or show you properly."

"Alastor..."

"Why must it be me?" Alastor asks. "Has there be no one else that's caught your eye?" Your expression soften. "No." You says simply. "It's always been you. I'm not sure if anyone could compare, to someone like you."

"Someone like me..." Alastor repeats under his breath. He shook his head with a light chuckle. "Y/n, I don't think you understand just what you're asking for. 'Someone like me'...I can be...a bit much. You know that."

"Yes." You nod. "And I'm fine with that. There are so many great things about you Alastor. I'd be talking all day long just listing it all off. It's just...I don't want to ruin this. Us. You've been more than an amazing friend to me all these years. I don't want my emotions getting in the way of that."

"We have been friends for a while, yes." Alastor smiles softly. "Nothing will ever change my view of you, my care for you Y/n. Nothing. And as I've already said, I do like you."

"Do you?" You ask sadly. "Maybe I'm just mistaking your care for love. Maybe you are too." You try to move your hand away from his. It was too good to be true.

And yet, Alastor didn't budge. "That is entirely my fault." He says. "It was a constant back and forth with myself. A part of me wanted to give in, and the other, wanted to keep you at an arms length..."

"So...Which is it?" You ask. The uncertainty was worse than flat out rejection. Suddenly, you felt Alastor pull you close. "I'd love nothing more, than to give in." He says softly. The two of you were but inches from each other.

"Then why don't you?" You ask. Alastor's eyes glanced down at your lips for a split second, before trailing back to your eyes. Maybe it was build up from years of longing for Alastor that made you so bold.

You leaned up to kiss him gently. It was short and sweet, only lasting for a few seconds, before you pulling back to figure out his reaction.

You weren't parted long, before Alastor pulled you back in for a deeper, longer lasting kiss. Your chest felt like it was filled with butterflies and a soft warmth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, a soft sigh left you.

After a moment, you part once again. "By the way." You start. "Your charm has always worked on me."

Luck truly must have been on your side. Not only were you able to confess to the man you loved for years, and he return the feeling, but your career as a singer was really taking off. You were bringing in crowds of people any night you were preforming.

Mimzy would be the only person more happy about it than you, as it did wonders for her lounge getting more and more popular. Oh, and the money that was made from it too, of course.

But she wasn't the only one getting paid. For once, you were finally able to make a decent check. You had enough money for necessities and some extra spending money to have some fun with.

Before, any amount of money you made went right towards rent and food. But now, you didn't have to worry about keeping the lights on, or making sure you had something to eat at the end of the day.

You're weren't rich, but you had money to live off of now. And honestly, you might as well consider yourself rich, knowing that.

More than the money though, you just enjoyed singing. You loved lighting up the room when you walked out on stage, hearing the applause of the crowd, the music in your ears, and of course, singing your heart out.

And to top it all off, you were finally able to be with the man you loved. Being Alastor's partner was a dream. He was there for you, to hold your hand, to keep you close.

Never a day went by, where you not loved and appreciated. Even though a week had gone by, you still felt as giddy as the day he accepted your feelings. Yes, nothing could bring your mood down.

Except for maybe one thing...

"Oh my gosh..." You say under your breath, as you read over the news article for the third time. "Alastor, have you read this?" You ask, holding up the newspaper slightly.

You were over at Alastor's home this morning, as he offered to make breakfast for you the previous evening. And you weren't about to pass up that kind of offer.

"Afraid not, dear. Haven't gotten the chance to sit down and look it over yet." Alastor says as he turns off the stove. "What's it say?" He asks.

You look at the article again, furrowing your brows in grimace as you read. The article read of mysterious blood stains in an alleyway downtown, as well as a few strands of hair. So far, the police have no leads to what happened, or any potential suspects.

Alastor froze a moment before speaking. "Are you sure that's not another fake article, to spark panic or interest? You know, there's been quite a few of those lately. Seems some will do anything to catch the attention of the easily fooled."

"I don't think so Alastor." You mutter. "It seems pretty serious. Who could have done such a thing?" Alastor joined your side, sitting down at the table. "I'm sure it's fine. Perhaps some drunkard fell and injured himself. Or it could have been a disagreement between two people, that got out of hand."

"That's what I'm afraid of." You tell him. "Do you...Do you think it might have been a murder?" You say quietly. Alastor took your hands with his. "No dear, I don't think so. This side of the city hasn't had a crime that serious in a while. There's nothing to worry about."

"But, it's still a scary thought. That something like that could have happened..." You say, not wanting to think too hard about it. "Well." Alastor starts. "If, and I do mean if, something like that were to happen. You won't need to worry yourself about it. And do you know why?"

"Why?" You ask. Alastor took one of your hands and raised it to his lips, he kissed it before speaking again. "Because you have me to keep you safe. Nothing will harm you as long as I'm around, dearest."

A small smile found it's way onto your face. "I know. You always have protected me, Alastor."

"And I always will." Alastor says with a soft smile. "Now, let's not have this food getting cold."

A potential murder, one would have to admit, can inspire a man such as Alastor to speak on the topic. He can't let the papers get all the attention, now could he? Though, perhaps he would have to fight for the attention, had this accident gone unnoticed...

Oh well. He was in need of new things to talk about on his radio show anyhow.

"Good evening all! It's your beloved radio host, Alastor Thurman here to give you all another outstanding broadcast, for you eager listeners. How about we jump on the topic that's gotten everyone in a tizzy." Alastor leans forward slightly in his chair, his grin ever present, even when alone in his studio.

"A potential murder case, and the unknown suspect still in hiding!" He begins. "The location of the victim's body is unknown." Alastor says lowly, to amplify the intensity. "No leads on a potential suspect either. Yes, this is quite the tricky case indeed. Careful on your way home tonight folks." He chuckles.

"Now, onto a lighter subject!"

Honestly. A mistake like that was unforgivable. The fool deserved to be locked up for that alone. It was like he was trying to get caught.

However, it was almost worth it.

Alastor's grin grows sinister as he recalled that night. That horrid man's screams, the fear in his eyes, and the pitiful last breath he took. Alastor had finally gotten rid of him. Now his beloved would have nothing to fret about. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't do it for himself too.

He wanted to kill that man the moment he had the misfortune of meeting him. And that day he dared to put his filthy hands on you only amplified that want. The world was better off, without people like him around anyhow.

As delighted as it made him feel, that mistake could have ruined everything. It's bad enough you were worried by it, but if you were to ever find out about his...hobbies, there is no doubt that you'd leave him.

And he knew it. And so, mistakes like this will never happen again on his watch.

The tension among folks would only rise when there was an official missing person case out in the open. A local owner of a small diner had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Cops weren't the only ones linking the disappearance to the scene in that alleyway.

And despite law enforcements best efforts, there was no calming the every growing concern among the people.

Especially you. You hated the fact that your former boss might have been murdered, as much as you disliked the man. No one deserves that. But you couldn't allow yourself to stay frightened, you had a show coming up. You couldn't allow your nerves to get the better of you and ruin that night.

Besides, you had Alastor to keep you safe. And as long as he was around, there would be nothing for you to fear.

Tags-

@martinys-world

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader

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electronicwitchcollection · 1 year ago

Text

Accidental mate; chapter 5

I’m going to stop introducing other characters and bring you more Grimmjow/reader interactions soon, honest 😂

You had made the long walk to your own division in search of Captain Kuchiki, wanting to brief him of your mission and return home. You replayed the conversation you had with the Head Captain through your mind as you traveled. He had asked if you believed you could be the one to teach Grimmjow, bring him into the fold. You sincerely hoped he would forget that ridiculous notion.

A week was more than long enough spent in his company. You didn't want to be lumbered with that task, you'd go crazy. You and Grimmjow were just too different. Yet quite similar, you hated to admit. You were both stubborn, unafraid of speak what was on your mind. You had always thought you were quite even tempered, not rising to anger, simply letting things go. Yet with Grimmjow you matched his outbursts.

There was just something about him that riled you up, made you quick to snap at his snarky remarks. You didn't like that, you weren't mean or violent, yet he made you want to throttle him multiple times a day. It would be better for everyone if someone else took over his training, better for him better for you. Familiar faces passing by snapped you from your musings, sending your comrades a cheery wave as you made your way past the Captains koi pond. You hurried up to the main office, hoping your captain would be in a good mood and allow you the rest of the day off.

You knocked on the open office door, peaking your head through as you softly called out "Captain Kuchiki?" You heard a rustle of papers, the drag of a chair against wooden floorboards followed by the sound of footsteps, too heavy to be the soft footed Captain.

"He's not here" Lieutenant Abari called to you as he made his way through the office. Face splitting into a wide familiar grin as you came into view, "YN! " He wrapped you in a brief but powerful bear hug which you happily returned. It was refreshing having human contact without the threat of your arm being bitten off

"Hey Renji, Captain isn't here?" You asked, walking further into the room at Renji's beckoning hand gesture. He walked back to his desk, perching on the edge of it to face you. He had his arms crossed over his chest loosely, already shaking his head

"He got called away to deal with some noble clan stuff, how was your trip?" The grin he gave you told you everything you needed to know, Renji had already had the pleasure of meeting Grimmjow. The amount of glee on his face at the prospect of you spending the whole week with him was irking you ever so slightly. You had the feeling Renji was the one to nominate you to the Head Captain for that particular task, simultaneously sidestepping the privilege and dropping you well and truly in it.

His smug grin only cemented your suspicions. You and Renji had become friends through another mutual friend many years ago. Your friendship was very much that of squabbling siblings, plenty of teasing and and good natured jabs . You loved him dearly though, and knew he felt the same about you. He was as protective over you as he was all his friends and you made sure he was looking after himself when he got consumed with training or work.

"Probably went as good as you think it did" you shot him a knowing look, falling heavily onto the chair facing his desk. The weeks travel and the extreme emotions you've been dealing with the past week were catching up to you, you were exhausted "It was a nightmare Renji."

Renji chucked at the look on your face, reaching over to mess up your hair playfully, retracting it quickly just before you swatted his hand away "and here I thought you were just the girl for the job"

"I knew it was you!" Suspicions confirmed. You would be getting him back for this, mark your words. "I've already told the Head Captain my report, he seemed happy with the way the mission went"

"How was it really?" He asked, Lieutenant mask replacing his shit eating grin. Renji took his position seriously, and while he was happy to be be friendly, tease and joke with his subordinates, he could knuckle down and be serious when the time called for it. It was something you actually really admired about him, not that you would ever voice that, his head was big enough as it was

"I had seen what I needed too. He's a good fighter, strong, talented. " you decided to give him the brief report, he could read all the details in your written report when you finally get a chance to write it. "But he's got an issue with authority. He doesn't work well as part of a team, and, I cannot stress this enough, he is the biggest asshole I've ever had the misfortune of meeting"

Renji threw his head back as he barked out his most honest laugh. His stance had relaxed at your less than official end to your report, easing back into his relaxed posture. You were sure he wasn't even aware of it anymore, how effortlessly he changed between lieutenant and friend "Yeah, he's a real piece of work. Tries to take off Ichigo's head every time they see eachother, and every one likes that guy"

He wasn't wrong. You didn't know Ichigo well, had spoken a few times in passing due to having similar friends. Even without the fact that Ichigo had saved soul society multiple times, often at his own risk, he was a really nice guy. The fact that Grimmjow couldn't stand him spoke volumes about Grimmjow himself. "Well, now you can add me to the list of people Grimmjow would rather see without their head" you mumble from behind your hands, tiredly rubbing your face. Fatigue was catching up quickly, and as much as you enjoyed Renji's company, if you didn't leave soon you'd end up asleep on this chair

"Did he hurt you?" The dangerous change in tone had you peeking through your fingers. Renji's posture had straightened up, deeply unhappy look on his face. He looked just about ready to go find the espada himself, fingers slowly curling into loose fists. Renji had an unbreakable sense of honour, and hitting women was at the top of that list. He wouldn't stand for it, in any situation, especially if it involved on of his friends. You couldn't help but smile at his overprotectiveness.

"No, Renji. He didn't hurt me." You placate him quickly, watching the sudden anger fizzle out of him. His hotheadedness hadn't change much over the years, though he was working on listening to the full story before reacting. Something you greatly appreciated in that moment, you didn't want to chase him all over souls society trying to calm him down "We just argued the whole time, you know me, I don't usually bite my tongue"

Renji smile at your attempt of humour. He knew that all too well, you've both hand your share of arguments with eachother, both to stubborn to let the other have the win, wether you were right or wrong. "Hope you gave as good as you got"

"Of course." You match his smile, standing with an exaggerated stretch "Im going to head home for the rest of the day. Can you let the Captain know I'll report in first thing in the morning? I'll try and write up the report tonight"

Renji nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he walked you to the door "try and get some rest. You look like shit" you elbowed him roughly in the side, enjoying the grunt you pulled from him. Asshole. He should try spending the week with Grimmjow on the road, bet he wouldn't look half as good as you managed to look.

——————————————————

Grimmjow was practically vibrating with pent up frustration. After the Captains had disappeared, and you had stormed off, he attempted to follow the captains to finish what they had started. Especially that big one. The one that dared to approach you, you, covered in his scent. His mark. Luckily for them, Grimmjow had lost the scent, too many shinigami polluting the air.

He had been aimlessly stalking around, trying to let off steam. He wasn't yet ready to return to where he was staying. He hadn't been allocated a place yet, wouldn't until he was placed into a division. He was temporarily staying in a room changed into a makeshift bedroom in that hat wearing idiots lab, near the edge of the twelfth division. The location wasn't bad, it was just outside a large Forrest, perfect for running and training. Further into the Forrest, leaving the walls that surrounded the shinigamis territory, he had found a few hollows he could hunt.

He didn't know if that goofy bastard was here or in the world of the living though, and wasn't in the mood to put up with his moronic insistence of trying to engage Grimmjow in conversation. During his rage filled walk, Grimmjow had gotten a little turned around. Actually, he didn't have a damn clue where he was. All the streets and buildings looked the exact same, so he didn't notice the fact he was in an unknown division until it was too late to retrace his steps

He wasn't lost. He just wasn't where he thought he was. He couldn't pick up any scents to indicate where he was, or in which direction he should be headed. He would rather chew off his own arm than ask one of the shinigami hurrying past him, avoiding eye contact, for directions . Fucking looking at him as though he were going to bite them. Idiots. Shinigami wouldn't taste good anyway.

The memory of your arousal coating his tongue pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. He could practically taste the phantom memory, mouth filling with saliva. Grimmjow angrily kicked at the ground, sending a puff of dust into the air and startling two shinigami that were passing by. Pussies. Grimmjow snarled at them for good measure, watching disgusted as they scarpered.

His skin was crawling. He hated how you were still invading his mind. Damn witch. It had been a couple of hours since he last saw you, with each passing hour his stomach twisted harder with a deep sense of unease. He was loosing his damn mind. He could still taste you on his tongue, feel you in his arms, smell you in the air. Wait. No, he could actually smell you in the air.

Grimmjow came to an abrupt halt, picking up the faint notes of your scent, his own signature musk intertwined with it. He followed the invisible trail, inhaling deeply, keeping it locked in his sights. As the smell became stronger, the buildings became further apart. Trees could be spotted over the top of the wall, the smell of grass filtering through the leaves.

He came to a stop out side of a small building where your scent was most powerful. This must be your den. Catching movement in one of the windows, Grimmjow jumped up the wall, camouflaging in the lush leaves of the tree, perching on a sturdy branch. He waited patiently, scanning the windows for sign of movement. He should leave. What was he even doing there, watching, waiting for any sign of you. It was pathetic. Weak. He growled deep in his chest at his behaviour, willing himself to leave.

Then you appeared. A light flicked on in a room containing a large nest, his eyes locked on to you. You had all your hair tied up behind your head, the strands swaying side to side with every step you took. Your body was wrapped in pink, flimsy material, it looked shiny under the light. It exposed your thighs, brushing over the soft skin there. He watched as you reached your bed, crawling over the space to lay on your stomach. You kicked up your legs, lazily swinging them back and forth, feet twisting together, rubbing over the back of your shins.

Grimmjow swallowed roughly, adjusting his stance as he crawled nearer for a better look. His trousers were tightening, restricting his slowly inflating dick. You had something thin and black in your hand. A pen, you were writing. Hand quickly scribbling over the paper laid before you. He watched as you tilted your head, flicking your hair down over one shoulder, teasing him with your exposed neck, his mark, shining brightly against your pale skin. Sending unknowingly, a flush of heat through Grimmjow's body. Grimmjow's tongue darted out to wet his suddenly dry lips, battling with himself internally

Screaming at himself to leave, to run as fast as he could away from you. His body refused to listen to his demands, eyes staying fixated on you. What was happening to him? Grimmjow was strong, he was powerful, he was an alpha. It infuriated him, the spell you had cast on him. He needed to find a way to break it. He needed to leave. Grimmjow pulled all his determination, ready to leap from his hiding spot in the tree, find his way back to his own nest. Then you slowly rolled the pen across your full bottom lip, parting your lips you pulled the pen into your mouth and sucked on the tip gently.

FUCK

Grimmjow shoved his hand down his pants, groaning as he took hold of his throbbing erection and squeezing. His hungry eyes focused on your lips, drinking in the image of your lips surrounding the pen. Grimmjow pulled his hand over his cock, squeezing the tip before rolling it back down the length. With a dissatisfied groan, Grimmjow quickly removed his hand, licking wetly over his palm before shoving it back into the confines of his pants,taking his erection back into his hand with long, strong tugs. His hand felt insignificant compared to the tight, wet heat of your cunt

His hand didn't squeeze as tightly, didn't ripple across his length. It didn't coat his cock in sweet slick wetness. Didn't moan in pleasure as he rutted into it. He watched as you pulled out the pen, tip wet with your saliva as you studied the paper beneath you. You tapped the pen against your lips, teasing it between your teeth. Grimmjow groaned, hips jerkily thrusting into his hand, his precum leaking profusely, slicking up the glide of his hand, dampening the inside of his pants.

His breath came out in short pants, eyes narrowing as he watched you intently. The angle and the restrictions of his clothing were uncomfortable, not allowing him the proper movement to adequately stroke his full length. He watched your small hand resume marking the paper, imagining how it would look wrapped around his cock, how small it would look in comparison to his own. He imagined dragging his cock over you lips, painting them with his thick seed. How you would suck on the tip, lick up the length.

He moaned, deep and guttural, hips rutting into his palm. His head was swimming, protests to stop quieting at the dominating commands to take her. There you were, laid out, waiting, willing. His mate, his to use, his to fuck. You grabbed the paper, placing it on a table next to your bed with the pen. You pushed off the bed with your hands, back arching, ass pushed into the air invitingly as you stretched out your arms in front of you. His hand moved furiously over his cock, chasing the explosion that would clear his mind.

You were in the perfect submissive position, like you knew you were being watched. Putting on a show for your king, presenting yourself for his taking. His hand roughly pushed against the clothing covering his engorged cock, trying in vein to make more room for his rapid hand motions. You sat back on your legs, glancing out the window. He held his breath, suddenly nervous you would spot him hidden in the tree. His hand slowed down on his cock, trying to minimise any movement that might catch your eye.

He watched as you crawled closer to the window, staring out into the darkening street before pulling closed the cloth that blocked his view to your room. Grimmjow cursed quietly, no longer having you in his sights. His hand slowed on his length, coming to a complete stop in frustration. He pulled his hand free, disgusted with his actions, touching himself, hidden away like a desperate pup. Grimmjow roughly punched the thick trunk of the tree, bark splitting open the thin skin of his knuckles as it splintered beneath his power.

With new found determination, he jumped from the tree, into the garden beyond the wall. As soon as his feet hit the ground he ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction, away from you and your magic. Running with an erection was uncomfortable, he roughly palmed the ridged length, commanding it to go down. He stuck to the shadows, using his agility to stay undetected.

Grimmjow needed help. As much as it pained him to admit it, he didn't know how else to break the spell you had put him under. Now that he knew where you lived, he didn't trust his instincts not not cloud over his rational thought and kick down your damn door and take you. He needed someone to tell him how to get back control of his own mind. The only person he could think he could demand fix this problem, unfortunately, was also someone Grimmjow wanted to avoid at all costs. Annoying bastard would drive him insane.

——————————————————

You rolled your head back and forth, groaning at the satisfying cracks your neck gave. After returning home you had fallen into your couch, falling into a much needed nap. After waking, showering and having a delicious home cooked meal, you started working on the written report ready for Captain Kuchiki the following morning. You had been sitting at your table for too long, stiffness creeping up your spine. You reread over what you had already written, deciding it was up to your captains standards. You carefully gathered up the paper and pen, deciding to finish writing your conclusions in the comfort of your own bed

You resisted the desire run and leap on your bed, fall into the warm softness. Laying on your stomach you absentmindedly kick your legs up into the air, steadily swaying them back and forth as you began jotting down your explanations. You had written about finding the hollow you were sent to cleanse. The battle plan you had drawn up and how Grimmjow completely disregarded your ideas, running head first into, what you could only describe as, a violent slaughtering.

You wrote about Grimmjows skills, his shortcomings. What you felt he could work on and what you thought was a lost cause. You wrote your recommendations for a scouting team, highlighting his enhanced senses, and how you witnessed them being used in the field. You reread what you had written, rolling the pen across your lips, sucking on the tip. It was a habit you had from way back in your academy days, it helped clear your mind enough to focus solely on your task.

You wrote about Grimmjows lack of knowledge to human life. His struggle with reading and chopsticks, adding a few others you thought should be investigated. Concluding your report with what you had verbalised with the head captain. You believed Grimmjow could be a great ally, if only the time was given to help acclimate him into this unknown way of life. You attempted to think of an example of Grimmjows ability to pick up on things quickly, when your mind drifted into a less professional setting.

Grimmjow quickly picked up on your non-verbal cues, adjusting his treatment of you accordingly to your reactions. He learned quickly the best places to touch you to draw out sinful moans. Adjusted his pace at the minute gestures you gave, bringing you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had. Now how could you write about that while sounding professional? You tried to shake the thoughts, turning back to your report to make sure it was all correct

Everything seemed adequate as you chewed on the tip of your pen, looking over carefully for any mistakes or anything you could add. You had to force yourself to stop, before you spent the whole night adding and changing little details trying to make it perfect. You put everything on your bedside table before stretching out your stiff back. You stretched your arms over your head, kneeling up on your knees to elongate your spine and hear it pop multiple times.

Cracking your spine, all your joints really, was a habit that drove Renji crazy. He hated the noise, it made his skin crawl. So as any friend would, you did it as often as possible in his company. You huffed out an amused chuckle, sitting yourself back on your folded legs. You looked through your window, noticing how dark it was getting.

Grimmjow floated through your mind again. You couldn't help but wonder what he was doing. He didn't seem the time to go to the bar, socialise with the shinigami, did he even have friends? No, he was probably out picking fights like an idiot. Hopefully he had steered clear of the two captains from earlier, that particular fight wouldn't be pretty, and it wouldn't help him securing a place in the goeti.

You forced the thoughts away, closing your curtains to get ready to turn in. It didn't take you long to end up in darkness, sinking into your mattress with a long awaited sigh. You had missed being home, being in your bed. You tried to fall asleep, clearing your mind and relaxing into your mattress. Grimmjows cocky grin flashed behind your closed eyes, heart skipping a beat as you pushed the image away. You rolled to your back, screwing your eyes closed tight, willing sleep to take you.

Heat started to flush through your body, the first tingle of arousal made you squeeze your thighs together under the quilt. Your eyes snapped open, staring at your ceiling cast in darkness. Why was that brute still in your thoughts, it was a one time thing. A two time thing. It wasn't going to happen again, ever. Time to forget about it. There were plenty of single men around here, you were not short of options should you get an inch you needed help scratching.

You didn't notice your hand caressing over your body until it reached your breast. Your fingers circled your pebbling nipple under your gown, pinching gently. You moaned at the pressure, bringing up your other hand to give the same attention to your neglected breast. You tried to conjure up an image to help you raise your libido, images of bulging muscles and a chiselled jaw. You imagined strong hands replacing your own, following the curves of your body down to your core.

Your fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, remembering a heavy weight looming over you, pushing you into the mattress as they tease your opening. When you brush a finger over your hidden clit, hips rolling up to meet the sensation, Grimmjows face appeared looming over you, grinning down at you. Nope. You pulled your hands away from you, punching the mattress besides you in frustration. You were not going to lay here and touch yourself while thinking of that man,

You definitely turned to your side, grabbing your spare pillow to hug against your chest. You concentrated on emptying your mind, willing sleep to pull you under it's merciful hold. You fell asleep pushing away increasingly intrusive thoughts of Grimmjow as they infiltrated your mind, tossing and turning at the memories of Grimmjow growling into your ear. You dreamt of his hands on your body, the guttural way he'd groan in your ear. Reliving all the pleasure you had received in those two days that you would refuse to think about again.

#bleach fanfiction #bleach smut #bleach #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #accidental mate

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dearanakin · 1 year ago

Text

you gotta let me know

Summary: At a party, you overhear Steve revealing his feelings for you, but you're too drunk to remember what happened that night.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Munson!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/angst/mentions of alcohol

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Steve sat looking out the window for several minutes now. Eyes focused on the street before him. It had been not too long ago that Robin locked the both of you inside her apartment.

Six months ago, you and Steve had an argument over how he felt about you. You called him bullshit. Slurring incoherent words while drunk at some stupid party.

After that, he steered clear of you. Not wanting anything to do with you. And because of that, the two of you split up time between the small group of friends. Going back and forth just to avoid seeing each other.

He didn't want to see your face. He didn’t want to remember your drunken words. He didn’t want any of that. All because you didn't want to believe he actually liked you.

Despite his words about actually liking you for everything you were. You still took that one moment of sincerity and turned it into a joke. All because of a preference he used to have for girls.

"Do you even remember what you said that night?"

His words were cold and sharp. He didn’t dare look at you, worried what might happen if he did. He kept still at the window.

Fifteen seconds later, still no response.

The sad thing is, you don’t remember. All that came to mind was one moment where you threw your drink at him. You were so unbelievably drunk. Not that he could even take care of you. You wouldn’t let him.

He scoffed, and took a deep breath. Wiping a hand over his tired face. The silence was torture. But not nearly as bad as the noisy reactions he kept throwing over his shoulder at you. They felt like bullets.

“Wow. That doesn’t really surprise me at all.”

Scratch that, those felt like bullets.

He was right, of course. You couldn't really put the pieces together and remember everything that was said that night. Or any night after drinking. Your brother tried talking to him on your behalf. But he avoided every conversation about it. Wanting to forget that day ever happened.

Maybe you wanted it too. Especially after seeing the bitter pain it was bringing to your friend.

"Steve, I-" It was almost too difficult for you to speak about it. “I'm sure I didn't mean any of it. How can you think I was serious about that?”

He had both his hands holding his hips, while his gaze turned to be fixated on the floor. Away from you. His head dropped, almost defeated, as he chuckled.

"I just think you know what you did, but you never bothered coming after me and really asking me what happened".

"Well, you were avoiding me after that!" You snapped. It wouldn't hurt to go after him, that's right. But at the same time, you thought he was joking and mocking you.

"For fuck's sake, Munson. Of course I was. You can't even remember a single word you said" Steve felt offended. He'd felt like that for a long time, ever since that day. "I don't care if you were drunk or not, what happened that day changed our friendship."

You don't really remember what happened, the only thing you remember was how you humiliated him by throwing your drink at him. You don't know why. And he's still too upset to talk about it.

You wished you could dig a giant hole and hide your body under it. After whatever Steve just said, you were just trying to understand WHY he would like you. It's not like you have never dated before, but most guys tend to not look your way because the girl next to you is hotter and skinnier.

You kept watching him, your vision was completely distorted in virtue of drinking your ass off. Every single cup being chugged. And for what? You wanted to kiss him. You wanted him. You really did, but you didn't want to ruin your friendship.

His confused face and his hazel eyes kept a gaze at you, waiting for an answer.You froze at his admission. And the best you could even say was: "Are you fucking kidding me?". Every word slurred against him. If it could get any more confused than that, it was because you made it.

"Is this a fucking joke?" Your hands were shaking, your body was leaning against the kitchen island and Steve was holding your waist, afraid you'd stumble.

"Why would it be a joke, Y/N? It wasn't even supposed to happen like that. Can we just have this conversation another day? Especially when you're sober?" His eyes pleaded, but your stupid drunken brain refused to accept his offer.

"Why would you even like me, if I'm not as hot as the other girls you went out with? I'm not Nancy either!" You were screaming, and the few people passing by started looking at the both of you.

"I don't care if you're not like her. I don't fucking care you're not like them. I think you're fucking hot just the way you are, Munson. Is that so hard to understand?"

The point is, he wasn't in love with Nancy anymore. But he never liked it when Nancy was brought up in a conversation like that. And he hated that you were comparing yourself with someone else, because he liked you for you.

"I know. I'm such a terrible person. I'm really sorry, Steve" You were too ashamed to look at him now.

Sitting by the couch, not too close to him, you felt a weight over your shoulders pulling you down to the ground.

Shame. Jesus, why did you overreact like that? Why were you so fucking insecure?

"You will have to apologize a lot more than just this time, Y/N. It just doesn't wipe it out. You threw a drink at me, Jesus. Your brother even helped me out that day. Eddie was feeling so fucking sorry for me, it was embarrassing."

Eddie didn't tell you much about the party, either. He didn't want you to feel bad for what happened, but you needed the answer to that. He's been telling you for the past six months that Steve didn't ever want to bring that up.

He didn't want to remember the way you treated him when he said he liked you. And here you are, sitting close to him, and he can only feel sorry for himself. At least from your point of view. But still, he feels sorry for you as well, for your behavior. For your lack of confidence.

"He never really wanted to tell me whatever happened. He did say I shouldn't have done that" The hot tears were rolling out of your face without mercy. You can cry as much as you want, you won't have his friendship ever again.

Not even if you kneeled on a shit ton of beans spread on the floor and stayed there for hours.

"Robin wanted this to end well, and I don't blame her. But for all I know, I wouldn't want to carry on with this conversation" He sat down on the armchair, still refusing to look at you.

You bent your knees, resting your chin on them, still crying quietly. He knows you liked him. He knows you held feelings for him. But he can't do anything about it, not right now. He doesn't feel comfortable around you yet.

"Is there even anything I could do to make it right? Is there a way to make it up for you?" You were almost begging. You watched him run over a hand on his perfect hair, sighing heavily. "It can't be like this forever."

"No, it can't" Steve was starting to get emotional. He wanted to tell you he liked you, but in the right place, at the right time. "But right now, I don't know what else you can do."

You weren't supposed to overhear his conversation with Robin at the party, but he doesn't blame you for that.

He was fidgeting, thinking of his next words. "But I can't deal with this just yet. I know I was an asshole before, way before. I never really meant to be one, I just got carried away. And I won't admit to being called bullshit. We were always clear to each other, and you know that."

And then, a flash of memory of the conversation came back to your head.

You were still trying to look at him without feeling faint. If you kept staring at him for five more minutes, you might vomit at him. That wasn't even the worst case scenario. But what came next was.

You didn't even think twice when you threw your Cosmopolitan drink at him. It hit him on his chin, streaming down his shirt, making the fabric completely wet. A bunch of people passing through you both watched as it happened, some even made a few noises and you could hear some laughing.

Steve, on the other hand, was shocked. He wanted to ask what the fuck happened. He probably wanted to yell at you, but he wouldn't. Slowly, he looked at his shirt, and then looked back at you. You couldn't even stand on your feet because of the alcohol, but you knew what you did.

And yet, you didn't care.

You'd throw many drinks at him. "Don't bullshit me, Steve. That's bullshit. You're bullshit!" You yelled. He took a step back, not expecting you to react like that. "I'm drunk, but I'm not fucking stupid! Don't play that game with me!'

What game it was, you didn't know.

"Y/N, please. Let's just go home and sober up. For the love of God, you got me wet with alcohol, what the hell?" He wanted to pull you by your arm and get you out of the party, but you refused to.

"Why are you such a liar? Is that a fucking joke?" You pushed him. You tried to make him tell you the truth. But the truth was already there, he liked you. And you took his words and stepped on them. You were the one making fun of him now.

That's all you could still remember, a one-minute conversation of a whole situation that still didn't come to your mind.

"God, this is such a fucking mess. I'm sorry, Steve. I'm sorry I acted so dumb and incredibly horrific" You blurted out, feeling a lump in your throat. You could only remember the smallest bit of it, calling him bullshit and throwing a drink at him.

As much as you wanted to remember everything that was said, your memory was fuzzy and blurry. The way Steve reacted to the conversation was understandable, but you considered you had the right to know what went so wrong.

Steve, on the other hand, was hurt. He had been wishing for months that he could forget that night and move on with his life, but the feeling he had for you was unbearably significant. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't get rid of it. And that hurt him.

Whatever happened left scars and a feeling that he should never have told Robin anything, at least not at that party.

One second you were sitting on the couch, the next second you're kneeling towards him, your hands trying to grab a hold of his wrists. It was hard to make contact with him after a while, he smelled like creamy sandalwood, and it drove you crazy.

It made you feel needy, empty inside and desperate for his forgiveness. You were a mess of tears and hiccups. Steve was never one to actually hide when he was feeling emotional, but right now, he was fragile.

"Just tell me what to do. Please, don't push me away like that. Harrington, you know I love you" It sounded like you were already paying for your sins.

He doesn't let you in, he doesn't let you see him this vulnerable. He doesn't want to remember the times he used to be a dick and had that thrown back at his face for nothing. He knows you're hurting, but you humiliated him.

"Please, let go of me. I don't want to deal with this right now anymore" Steve couldn't look at you.

If he did, he might break down and let you in, forgive you. His tone was calm, slow, but painful.

When he got up, he went straight to Robin's bedroom and locked himself in. Then, you sat there in the living room for another half an hour, until she got back home.

You called Eddie and asked him to pick you up. The entire ride back home, you didn't say anything. He wouldn't bring it up, either. Your face said it all.

After getting back home, you went to your bed in the bedroom you shared with Eddie. Uncle Wayne wasn't home yet, which was probably for the best, because he would always want to give advice about life.

Not a single word was spoken about what happened between you and Steve, and your brother took your silence, respecting it. He was in the kitchen making dinner, while you were bawling your eyes out in the bedroom.

You only stopped crying when he stepped up and sat next to you, stroking your arm gently. He didn't know what to say, exactly. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better.

"Dinner is ready, sis. I think it's good that you eat something. You don't need to talk about it" Eddie squeezed your forearm gently.

It was always hard to say no to him. As much as he got this weird looking and hardcore attitude, he was always a really great brother. And a really great guy as well. Eddie was the most genuine person you know.

You made your way to the kitchen slowly, your eyes were still puffy and you felt your head pound. He made you both mac and cheese. And there were glasses of juice on the table.

It's not like you're going to drink alcohol again after what happened, really.

You kept looking at him, trying to find a way to speak up. Your curiosity about what happened that night was speaking loudly. It made you want an explanation of what Steve told him, or what he told Steve.

"That night- at the party... You- You and Steve" Your words were trembling out of your mouth. "He said you helped him after what I did".

You were expecting him to retract himself and not say a word. Instead, he took a deep breath before finally telling you about that day.

"This might hurt you, sis. I want you to understand why Steve has been avoiding you since then" Eddie started. You swallowed a huge lump in your throat. "But I don't think he should know I told you what happened."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #userashe

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