#hes finally able to bring it home (look his boss favors him and EVERYONE knows it) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azurlily · 2 years ago

Text

Day 7 of 31 of the yandere month May challenge. These two yanderes work together well, so they're pretty scary.

Also a reminder to everyone this is the last month you can request a specific type of reader for free. After this month it becomes commission work. Ask any questions in either DM or on my asks/requests.

Your boss has been giving you a hard time. Vi and Caitlyn hear about and are not happy, they make the night all about you.(they also deal with your boss)

Yandere!Vi and Yandere!Caitlyn Kiramman SMUT

"I dont fucking care! If it's not done by Friday, you're off the team! Got it!?"

You nodded your head, got you hate this man. He's the embodiment of everything you hate. He stands there and glares at you before turning away in anger, you hear him mumble about 'idiot' while he walks away.

Slowly you turn around, turning your head up to stop the warm water dripping down your face. You walk out, it was the end of the day and Friday is only 2 days from now. You can work on the project at home, you hope your lovers would let you pay attention. They like to distract you from work.

Once your home you realise you see two coats, two pairs of shoes, and most importantly two women in the kitchen. Upon hearing the door close both women look up, a set of grey and a set of blue eyes look at you. The hold nothing but adoration, love, happiness, and kindness. Both of your girlfriends love you so much.

So it brought them both pain when you break down crying. Tears spill down you face, warm tears, refusing to stop. Vi is the first to run to you, she picks you up and holds you. She brings you into the kitchen, her face went from one of love to one of pure disgust.

Vi always has some sort of snark, smile, or relatively happy look on her face. Of course that's only for you and Caitlyn. Now, oh right now, she's absolutely pissed, and not afraid to show it.

"Honey? What's wrong, are you okay?"

You didn't say a word, it took you a good second to finally regain the ability to properly think. You push yourself off of Vi, Vi herself had switched back to a smile. She doesn't want to frighten you, poor you.

The three of you sit down and start talking. You explain what's been going on, specifically with your boss. You know that Caitlyn has more than enough money to support you and Vi, and she's never abuse that. You just wanted to be able to do things, and having a job was the best way. Your job wasn't always this demanding, it's your boss that's the problem.

While you were talking you didn't notice the slow changes in both Vi and Caitlyn's faces. They couldn't look at you properly, not right now at least. Both girls had one goal currently, and that was to kill you boss. How dare he yell at you!? Does he not know who you are, who your lovers are? They could ruin him with a snap of their fingers.

"G-girls. I'm going to go call someone real quick."

Vi didn't say anything else and stood up. She walked into the bedroom and called Jinx. The two have been having a good relationship so far. Their bond growing stronger, and therapy is helping too. While you sat on the couch and let Caitlyn coddle you, Vi was calling her sister for a favor.

"Hey, hey yeah. Yeah I need a favor, someone hasn't been all to kind to [name] I was wondering if you could deal with him. No- no I don't care what happens to him. Kill him if you want, just make him understand not to hurt her. Yeah, yeah I'll give you his info in a second."

Caitlyn had so many ideas stewing in her mind, how dare he. How dare your moronic, disgusting, disrespectful boss, EVER yell at you. Men like him need to be put down, maybe cut their balls off, like you would a dog or a cat. Teach him a lesson, he obviously doesn't see a goddess when it's in front of him.

Vi walks in with a smile, she had a good- great idea. You poor thing, you've been hurt so badly by your boss. You need all the love and care both of your very willing girlfriends can provide.

Vi sneaks over to Caitlyn with a smirk, whispering her plan into her ear. An equally devious smirk appears on Caitlyns face. Oh this, this is going to be fun, very fun. Caitlyn smiles sweetly at you, she gives you the smile that tells you many things. That she loves you, that she adores you, that she'd kill for you, that she want to fuck you so hard it hurts.

You assumed the latter was her choice.

"Sweetie, why don't you go undress in the bedroom, hm? Vi and I will be there soon, we're just going to grab a few toys."

Caitlyn stands up and give you a small peck on the lips before leaving with Vi. To large smirks on their face as they walk away. Their entire plan is to fuck you so raw you can't go to work, then when you do, your boss(if he's even alive) will have a whole new personality.

You walk to the bedroom, your face burning. Other parts of your body started to burn too, burn with need, with want. You didn't realise how pent up you were until now, god this was frustrating for you. You know your lovers, they love to tease.

After about ten minutes Caitlyn and Vi walk in. Vi has her boxers on, she also has a belt with a harness attached to it. The entire thing makes it look like thin, black(stylish) suspenders. Caitlyn though, oh she's wearing baby blue lingere. It looks so soft and pretty, you want to tear it off her, so very badly.

"You look so cute princess! I'm glad you were smart enough to only wear a bra and panties, if you wore anything else, well I would more than likely tear it!"

Vi always sounds so enthusiastic right before sex, you know it's her way of showing her interest. It's just scary sometimes, I mean the look on her face and the way she's talking are two very, very different things. She sounds happy, sweet, and kind, she looks like she wants to fuck you in front of hundreds of people and let them call you dirty things for her amusement.

"Mhm. Indeed, our beautiful little wife has learned, finally. I'm glad I dont need to worry about Vi destroying all your clothes anymore. Now, how about you lay back for us."

It wasn't a request, no instead it was a command. Caitlyn runs a tight ship, and you've learned bratting off only fucks you over further into the future. Not that it matters, you find it fun. You tilt your head and ask her to make you. A smile- dark, a dark smile finds it's way to her face. Caitlyn walks to you, she gently grabs a handful of your hair and pulls. A warning, she's warning you.

You know, you know all about her warnings. First a hair pull, then she'll bite your neck softly, lastly she grab you by the throat. Not roughly, but not soft either. You look up at her with faux innocence, you tilt you head in an attempt to feign innocence. You hear a deep growl from behind you, Vi. She's getting impatient.

Vi is the easier one to please out of the two, she just wants to make you scream. That's isn't hard to do, you just have to hit the right spots.

"I advise you to listen to Caitlyn, just because this night is about you doesn't mean we wont remind you how to listen. Dont test."

You decide it's best to save the brat for another day, you know their doing this to make you feel good. You told them everything, you're not surprised they had this cooked up. You nod slowly, you watch Caitlyn pull back, only for her to push you onto the bed. You lay back, spreading your legs and moving your arms above your head.

You know how they like it. You watch Caitlyn move and sit in a chair, it has gold trimmings and is a satin red. Vi smirks, this is how it goes. From now on, the words 'Vi' and 'Caitlyn' don't exist. It's daddy, and mistress. Honorifics, the things you call them by as a reminder of how they own you.

You watch Vi pull something from a box she had with her. A bright red, 8 inch long strap on. She looks between you and the strap, she sees the reaction on your face. Nothing but pure horny bliss, that's what she likes to see. If she saw that you were scared, she would have used a smaller one. One that would better fit you and your interests.

Vi attaches the strap to her, that's what the harness is for after all. She takes a few steps to you, she puts gets on the bed, her hips cornering you. You lay spread out, and she lays on top of you, look down. She takes your hands and cuffs them together, she. The harness has a belt attached to it, the cuffs were attached to the belt. Vi grins, she loves seeing you helpless, seeing that you need her.

You look over to Caitlyn, she's staring you both intently. She wants to see who will react first, if you say something, or will you meekly open your legs and let Vi have her fun. Caitlyn shakes with anticipation, making herself wetter than before. At some point Vi cant take it anymore, she grabs one of your legs and puts it over her shoulder. She dips the straps tip into you, nothing more, just the tip. She wants to see you shake, shake in pleasure, in pain, she wants to see all of it.

You jump and shake at the sudden intrusion, you body feels amazing and Vi just looks at you. She watches you twitch and shake as she slowly slips in and out ofr your pussy. She wants to see every reaction, every movement. Vi can't get enough of seeing you like this, she needs it, she becomes feral thinking about all the things she's going to do to you. Her pace quickened, hips starting to jam closer and closer to your. She needs this, badly.

Caitlyn watches you two with intense excitement. She loves seeing you like this, and it wasn't like she isn't getting any please out of this two. She had put a bullet vibrator in Vi, and she had a vibrator on herself too. She has the controls to Vis and hers, she turns Vis up by 1 and watches her shake. Caitlyn can see just how much shes getting off on this, and it makes her shiver thinking about it.

"Vi honey, if you want to cum at any point tonight, you're going to have to make our darling scream. I want to hear it loud and clear. Got that?"

"Mm, y-yes ma'am. Make her scream so I can c-cum."

Vi is absolutely losing it right not, her hips keep slamming into yours. No matter how many times you shake and spasm, your entire body is under her control. Vi on the other hand is under Caitlyns control, she knows Vi is chasing her oragsm, and hell get it. As long as Caitlyn gets to hear you scream. Vis thrusts get more and more manic, she's shaking, helping you into your orgasm, while chasing her own. God she needs it, so badly.

Your breath starts to shake more, you and Vi had changed positions a while ago, you are on your back and Vi has you holding onto her for dear life. You start scratching down Vis back, be it the pain of pleasure, you can take if anymore. You start crying and mumbling incoherently, you don't know what you're saying, and neither do Vi or Caitlyn. All that matter is you being absolutely destroyed, and you look oh so close.

"Vi, baby, I want you both to cum with me. Hold on just a bit longer babe, and Vi, I'll turn the vibe up."

You didn't know if you could hold on, it just felt so, so good. How the hell are you going to hold back like this!? At this rate you'll start breaking rules, one of those being don't cum unless given permission. You start hitting Vis back, hoping she slows down. You need her to or you wont last any longer, although you know Vi isn't going to listen. Even if you could talk properly, which you cannot.

"Fuck- cum! Both you of y-you, fuck!"

Permission, that's what you needed, and finally you were given it. Your body convulses against Vis, who does the exact same. You to shake and rock against eachother. Slowly you both come down from your highs. Caitlyn turns the bullet Vibrator off and turns hers off too. Vi slowly pulls out of you, she sees your freshly fucked face and almost laughs. You look so cute, all dumb like this.

"You both did so well for me, but now. Vi honey, please move. It's my turn to torture [name] body, and I intend to work thoroughly.

You look at her in your blissed out state, you should have known. Both if them want your body, they just like to take it in different ways.

#wlw #lesbian #arcane #arcane caitlyn #arcane vi #vi x reader #vi #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman x reader #yandere month challenge #yandere vi #yandere caitlyn kiramman

294 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 3 years ago

Text

One Night (Marius x Reader)

Teaching a Billionaire to Touch Grass (And a Minimum Wage Worker to Treat Herself)

Marius clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at 2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“Okay,” he seethes, drumming his fingers on the wheel as the traffic around him grows impossible slower. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks. “We’re going to talk about how inappropriate this was.”

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

MASTERLIST

The car is silent.

As Marius gets inside, he thinks that this might be the first time he’s not opening the passenger door seat for a lady partner, the first time he’s allowed himself to stalk straight into the driver's seat and angrily wait for his passenger to enter on their own.

Actually, he thinks, this is also the first time in years that he's actually driving. The first time someone managed to call for him so late that even his chauffeur was off-duty.

“I’m really sorry about this, Sir,” you mumble as you climb into the seat next to him, apologies never halting as you ramble on and on and on like an idiot who can't read a room. “I, ah, didn’t think this would happen, I'm so…”

Marius ignores you.

He glances out the passenger window and catches Darius Morgan’s equally-annoyed gaze. Seriously? the man seems to be asking, an unimpressed look crossed over his face as he eyes you through the car window. I don’t fucking know, Marius’s gaze says back, and he shakes his head the slightest as he starts the car.

“What’s your address?” he asks, interrupting your apologies. Propriety should make him feel somewhat embarrassed over the way he's acting, but he can’t bring himself to be even a little polite right now.

“It’s by the Harbor. Um, if you go straight on Main Street and turn right at the—”

“Forget it,” Marius interrupts you. He taps the small car screen on his right, opening up the GPS interface. “Just type it in. I’ll drop you off.”

Your face falls at his irate voice, but you wisely don't comment on it, instead typing in your address as he asked. He watches you cautiously the whole time, for once not caring about the performance anxiety his gaze naturally brings to everyone he looks at. To your merit, you don't mess up anymore than you already have, deft fingers moving with the preciseness he’s used to seeing from you, but the skill can hardly impress him after you called him to pick you up from here, of all places. As the GPS routing sequence activates, Marius lets out an annoyed huff. This is not where he wanted to be right now.

Then, the car hums to life as he presses down on the accelerator, and he’s speeding in the direction of your home, trying to abandon his anger with the jailhouse the two of you are leaving.

I should be at home right now, he thinks as he moves onto the highway. He thinks about how long it had taken for him to coordinate this night off from Vyn’s tutoring sessions, Pax’s board meetings, his schoolwork, and the NXX’s meetings. I should be sleeping, or painting, or calling Rosa, or—

“Fuck,” he mutters when traffic begins to slow down.

He’s in a traffic jam.

So much for sleeping. And painting. And calling Rosa.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, both at you and the cars around him. Why are there so many people on the road at—Marius glances at the car’s dashboard—2:38 in the morning? Why did the GPS's projected time to get to your home just double? Why is the universe out to get him today, on the one night Marius thought he could catch a break?

“I—I’m really sorry, Sir, I—”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Maybe he is, actually. Marius is too pissed to be sure. “What I want to know is why you thought it was okay to call me, of all people.”

He keeps his glare fixated on the road, knowing that if he shoots you with the same thunderous look he uses to fire people, you’ll probably be too terrified to speak. Still, when you finally start talking, he can sense the fear in your voice.

His grip on the steering wheel softens the slightest.

“I, ah, initially was planning on calling Mr. Vincent. But he—”

“Really?” Marius snaps. “You’re his assistant, right?” Marius thinks back to all the times he stalked into Pax Headquarters only to see Vincent there with his morning coffee in hand and you, always three feet behind, holding Vincent’s work files. The Board of Directors criticized Marius for allowing his assistant to have an assistant, but never did he imagine you to be so…

Incompetent, he wants to say. Foolish might be a better word for it, though.

“Ah, yes. His administrative assistant.”

“And you want me to believe,” Marius huffs, “That the first person you wanted to call to bail you out of jail was the man you’re an administrative assistant to?”

Traffic gets ever slower, and Marius’s car rolls to a complete stop.

“Yes,” you whisper, and you start wringing your fingers in a manner so sheepish that Marius almost wants to believe you. Almost. “I, ah, was going to call him first. But then I remembered that his vacation started last night and that he’s already left Stellis. So I figured that if I called him, he’d just call you, so I…”

He wouldn’t call me, Marius thinks. Vincent is smart enough to find someone else to pick you up from jail. Regular people don’t ask these kinds of favors from their boss. Especially not from their boss's boss.

“Do you know that people usually ask their friends for these things?” Marius asks. Some of his anger seeps away when he realizes how apologetic you actually are, and he moves forward in traffic the slightest. “Or family, perhaps. What you did was…” Marius tries to find a kinder word than completely inappropriate. “Was highly unusual.” He sighs. “Why didn’t you ask someone else?”

He stares at you through the corner of his eye. You’re pursing your lips, holding back tears. Again, his gaze softens.

“I don't have anyone else,” you whisper.

Marius thinks it’s strange for you to imply that you even have him, especially when he’s nothing more to you than a high-level corporate executive, one that you’ve never spoken directly to in your entire life, but he doesn’t press you any further.

Releasing the final remnants of his anger in a soft sigh, he switches lanes and decides to pull into the nearest exit.

“Darius said you were in that cell since yesterday afternoon. You haven’t had dinner yet, right?”

“No, but…”

“This traffic isn’t going anywhere. We may as well get you something to eat.”

He exits easily, pulling into a district of Stellis that he’s never been in before, and ignores your quiet sniffle.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Earlier, he was ignoring you out of spite. Now, he doesn’t respond because he wants to preserve your dignity.

As he focuses his attention on the district he's pulled to, ignoring the GPS which vehemently opposes everything he's doing, Marius realizes that he's pulled into a rather poor sector of Stellis. It’s filled with unhealthy fast food joints, late-night drunkards, and a bunch of loiterers who are eyeing his high-end car suspiciously.

After driving around and surveying the options, Marius sighs.

“The only places open are these fast-food restaurants,” he says, cleanly leaving out the option of getting food from a club or anywhere else a tabloid might be able to snap a picture. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah!” you chirp, and Marius finds that your smile is oddly sweet. “Ah, would you be okay with that one over there? I go there a lot, and their food is...better than other fast food places.”

Marius squints at you for a moment. He tries to recall your salary, and when he fails, he thinks of Vincent’s. Surely, you make a similar wage? You shouldn’t need to frequent fast-food restaurants like this, right?

Shaking his head, he decides not to ask about it. Things like where you eat are your business, not his, and it’s not his place to question you on your personal decisions.

He pulls up to the drive-through, somewhat relieved to find that the dine-in option isn’t even available at this hour, and lets you order whatever you want. You end up taking a meager meal, one that Marius doubts will actually fill your stomach when he can hear it growling so loudly, so when you turn to him and ask what he’ll get, he orders some fries in hopes that he can hand them off to you in case you’re still hungry.

Minutes later, the two of you are parked on the side of the road with your respective meals in your laps. Only once you’ve finished (and after Marius is starting to pawn his fries off to you, finding that they’re rather unappealing to his pallette) does he think it’s appropriate to actually breach the subject of why you were tossed in jail.

“So,” he drawls, listening to the cool hum of the air conditioner. “Drugs, huh?”

He hears you choke on a fry.

“Th-they weren’t mine!” you blurt. “Honest, Sir, they—”

“Relax,” he says, eyes flitting down. “I’m not going to have you fired over this. Vincent wouldn’t want that. If anything, the court will decide.”

You relax a little at that, but Marius can sense that you’re still on edge.

“I...appreciate that a lot, Sir. But, really, the drugs weren’t mine. I—I’m sure there’s video evidence to prove that. I was just coming home from work when a kid told me to hold onto this bag, and—”

Marius lifts an eyebrow. He may be out of touch with the realities of the common class, but even he knows how ridiculous your story is.

“I didn’t take it, though! He handed it to me and I put it on the ground! But...but an officer saw me put it on the ground and assumed it was mine...and then...you know what happened.”

Marius sighs. You've always been a good, low-profile worker. He has no reason to believe that you'd get involved with anything bad: but he can't help but doubt you. When he next speaks, his voice is laced with hesitance. “Is there anything to prove your innocence? Pax can help get you a good lawyer, but without evidence, it’ll—”

“There is!” Your eyes are too determined to be anything other than sincere. “Or, ah, there should be. It happened right outside my apartment. I’m sure someone there has surveillance footage of what happened.”

Marius ignores the quiet “hopefully” you add to the end of that.

“Alright,” he says, deciding that it’s not his place to decide whether or not he believes your story. “Tell me how you got my private number, then. Pax employees shouldn’t have access to that information.”

“Oh, ah…”

Your gaze turns sheepish. Marius grows even more interested in your response.

“Mr. Vincent had it written down a couple months ago. I accidentally saw it. I tried to forget, but…”

You seem to be kicking yourself over the blunder, but Marius is impressed. A mind that can remember something months after having seen it only once is a valuable thing, he thinks. It’s a waste for someone with your brain to be working as a mere assistant’s assistant.

“I’m really—”

“It’s okay,” Marius says. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m...not mad at you.”

And somehow, he really isn’t angry anymore.

The two of you finish your meal soon enough, Marius having successfully pressed his fries into your hands. It seems that you really are hungry because you down those in a manner of minutes, and the man almost regrets not having ordered more when he hears your stomach still grumbling beneath the hum of the car as he returns to the highway.

As Marius lets the GPS guide him back onto Stellis’s most frequented roads, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that all traffic is gone. He speeds down the road with a renewed vigor, somehow sidestepping the usual sleepiness that overcomes him during these kinds of drives with your idle commentary of the road, little mentions of “I once saw a turtle here” and “there used to be four lanes here, but they changed it to five” and “this mile-post had the wrong number on it for years before I reported it and highway patrol got it changed.”

If anything, there’s a faint smile on his face when he finally pulls off the freeway, almost amused by your quiet chit-chat.

“Is this the right neighborhood?” Marius asks as he pulls into one of Stellis’s residential districts.

“Yeah, it’s just a little further down.” You gather your purse in your lap and thank Marius for the umpteenth time.

“It's okay,” he says, slowing down. The apartments are looking poorer, now, dingier, but he tries not to let that show on his face. “Is it here?”

“Right at the end of the street,” you say, and with only a mildly concerned look on his face, Marius drives you further down the road.

His eyebrows furrow as he realizes what kind of neighborhood you live in, and he wonders if your wage truly is so poor that you have to live here, of all places. The apartment complexes here are unrenovated, a disappointing amount of them sporting broken glass or graffiti on them. Litter covers the grounds, and even in the thick, 3-AM darkness, Marius can make out hundreds of beer cans scattered across the lawns. Bushes are either dying or overgrown, and there are cigarette butts everywhere.

Marius realizes that between his suit, his car, and his three earrings, he might have more money on him than everyone who lives here combined.

“Which...which of these apartments is yours?”

He looks around warily, quietly hoping that you’ll say it’s none of them.

“Ah, it’s the first window on the second floor of that…” you trail off as your pointer finger lands on an apartment where all lights are lit—and three masked figures stand illuminated, clearly ransacking your house.

“Oh my god,” Marius blurts, already getting his phone out. “You’re getting robbed, what the—”

“No, no!” You’re quick to place a hand on Marius’s arm before he can dial Emergency Services. “Those are, ah, just the neighborhood boys. They...they do bad things, but they’re good kids. Don’t worry. I’ll chase them out in no time, you don’t have to—”

“Are you serious?” Marius asks, dumbfounded. “This—how can you go back to a home like that? You could die, or—or—”

“Sir,” you say, looking him in the eyes with more seriousness than he’s seen from you this entire night. “With all due respect, this is the best I can afford.”

Marius falls silent at that.

You open the door silently, casting your eyes down. ��Thank you again for everything,” you murmur. “I...I really appreciate it. I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again.”

But then, Marius thinks about the weak story you gave to him earlier, where you claimed that someone handed you drugs and then left you with them, and he wonders whether it might have actually been true. Whether this neighborhood, with its burglars and alcoholism and litter, could actually present you with that reality. Whether something like that may happen again to you, or, worse, Marius thinks as he glances back into your apartment at the three masked robbers, if you could actually get hurt.

Against all better judgment, his arm snaps out. He grips your wrist instantly, not thinking about propriety or class divisions or economic status or anything other than you, one of his company’s employees, and your safety.

“Don’t go there,” he blurts. When he realizes that you’re not tearing your arm free of him, he speaks again. “At least, not while they’re there. I’ll come back here with you tomorrow to make sure you can return in a safe environment, and—”

“Sir, I can’t just get a hotel or—”

“I have two guest bedrooms. You can take your pick. Just—ah—” Marius glances out the window at the poor neighborhood you live in, and he winces. “I can’t let you go home to this. Not...not while there are robbers in your house. Please understand.”

“This...this kind of problem doesn’t just go away,” you mumble, but Marius relaxes when he sees your grip on the door loosen. “And besides, it really wouldn’t be appropriate for me to stay in your apartment.”

“Most people wouldn’t call it appropriate to call your company’s CEO to bail you out of jail,” Marius jokes, but the humor of it is lost on you.

“I…”

Your face falls.

“A—that was a joke,” Marius stutters. “I was joking.”

“Right.”

The atmosphere of the car goes awkward, made even worse by the GPS’s automated reminder that your destination is on the left, but the more Marius looks out his window, the more he decides that he can’t possibly let you return to this apartment. He’ll give you a raise if he has to, but this is something no one should be subject to.

“Alright,” you finally relent after Marius makes it clear that he won’t speak unless it’s to plead with you more. “Just for one night.”

“Just for one night,” Marius agrees, already planning how he can make sure that you have a better home to return to than this one for all future nights to come.

#Word Count: 2.7k #female reader #tw: robbery #Tears of Themis #tot #tears of themis x reader #tears of themis marius #tears of themis lu jinghe #marius x reader #lu jinghe x reader #billionaire x poor girl #part of a series #i have extremely mixed feelings about this piece so eh #more to come in this hopefully

245 notes · View notes

fwkei · 3 years ago

Text

Remember...?

Draken x fem!reader (mainly fluff slight angst)

Finally got my first request yall 🥳 I couldn’t strictly follow the request like i wanted to but i hope thats alright, the gist is still there. anyways thank you sm for it and i hope you enjoy

TW/CW: Mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex work

WC: 7k (omg the most ive ever written🙆🏻‍��️)

Note: I changed my writing style a bit for this request so i hope yall don’t mind! and again i dont read my stuff over so my apologies if theres any mistakes lmao

------------------------------------

You sat on the street, overheating as you watched the ‘heat waves’ coming off the ground. You held your hair up with one of your hands since you had nothing to tie it with, while the other held a lukewarm water bottle. You sighed, you felt so anxious and frustrated.

What now?

You thought letting your mouth part due to your heavy breathing

You took things too fast. It had been about 3 weeks since you left your parents ‘home’ and why did you leave? Well there were a number of reasons that are a bit too much to list, but all that matters now is that you’re completely and utterly on your own.

You only managed to scavenge small jobs here and there to get some money to buy some basic necessities but nothing more.

“Sorry Y/n, my niece is coming down to Tokyo and I told her she could have a job here and stay at the studio above...I’m gonna have to let go. I’m sorry.” said your boss to you only a couple hours ago, with pity filled eyes

“...No it’s fine really! I understand.Thank you for taking me in while you could.” you said bowing your head at the man, biting your inner cheek trying to keep a level head

“I’m happy you understand. You can leave your apron and hat on the cashier. On your way out.” he said patting your shoulder as you slowly brought your head up

“Right..” you said taking off your apron and hat as you walked slowly to the cashier, placing it down

You brought your hands to your temples out of stress, trying to figure out what you could do now. You only had very little money, and there was a heat wave striking Japan this week. At least your boss allowed you to live and pay rent in the small studio right above his store, which had an AC, but now that was for his niece.

This had been the first time in a while where you had no idea what to do. You had always been the type of person to be able to take care of yourself and your problems..on your own. All your life since you can remember, you always had to be the one to take care of others, not that you mind or minded...but you were only so young. You never really had a childhood, at least not that you can remember. You do remember cleaning up after your parents who lost all will just to even... parent. You remember taking jobs as a babysitter at a really young age in your apartment complex to make some money.. You remember being the reliable older kid of your school and complex, where kids would come to you asking for help with things like homework all the way to buying something for them to eat because they were hungry. Not once did you ever say no, because you really did want to be there for those kids who’s parents didn’t give them the care they needed. But it just became too much.. You ended up spending all of your saved up money on them, just so they could have something to play with or something to eat.

Before you even realized it, you were in your last year of high school, with no money saved over, no scholarships, no one to rely on but yourself. Not even a friend. Was it really the right thing to do? Use all your money that you worked so hard for to help kids he lived next door? Or just plain stupid? You knew you couldn't support them forever...but you tried so hard to. All you wanted was to give them a childhood they never had, and someone to look up too. But now you left them. All because you were frustrated. You felt so unbearably guilty. All the work you put into your studies to get at least some type of scholarship just went to waste because you couldn't handle your life anymore. You were being so so so stupid.

Before you even knew it, the sun was going down, and you grew even more tired and sleepy. You signed, taking a jacket out of your bag and placing it on the ground so you could rest your head on it. You brought your hands to cushion your cheek as your eyes started to close. The air finally got a little cooler making it easier to breathe and well...do anything.

As you were falling asleep you could hear chatter and laughing, and finally a tap on your shoulder waking you up. You cringed your eyes before opening them up more to see 2 women. One had blonde hair and the other had pinkish hair. They looked older than you, maybe in their 20’s. One held a bag and the other held a bottle of wine with two glasses, they bent down so their heads could be closer to yours. After examining you for a bit they turned to each other and smiled happily before turning back their gaze to your confused face.

“Hey?” you said sitting up more, a little startled by the intimate contact they were giving you

“Hey there, say...what’s a pretty girl like you sleeping on the street for?” asked the girl with pinkish hair that was tied into pigtails

“I uh..don’t have a place right now so..” you said scratching your head

“Really? Hmmm.” said he one with blonde hair

“How old are you? And what’s your name? I think we can help you out! Woman to woman!” said the pink haired girl smiling sweetly making you feel fuzzy at their niceness

“18, and it’s Y/n.” you said smiling nervously

“Nice to meet you Y/n, I’m Remi, this is Rema, my twin sister.” said the pink haired girl pointing to the blonde as she waved sweetly

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you too..!” you said bringing your hands to your thighs smiling

“So did you just turn 18?” asked Rema

“Sorta, 2 months ago, why?” you asked

“Oh good!” they both said

“Well, it’s your choice really. One of the girls left today, and the boss sent us to scout another girl to take her place, buttt we just went to buy food with no intentions of finding someone but luckily we just found you! It’s perfect!” said Remi

“Oh? What work?” you asked getting excited

“Oh silly, we live in a brothel! It’s really not all that bad you know, great pay and rooms...so what do you think?” asked Rema

“A brothel..” you said under your breath

Your mind was in a serious state of concentration.

It can’t be all that bad, right? You just have to please people and go on with your day so… that’s what i've been doing my whole life… plus… there's a bunch of women in those things right? I probably won't get too much attention from customers if there's sweethearts like Remi and Rema walking around...so...just for the time being… I think it could really work out in my favor.

You thought to yourself

You brought your head up, giving the girls a closed eyes smile before shaking your head ‘yes’ making them jump in excitement.

“Oh good!” yelled Remi grabbing your hands

“I’m so excited! We haven't had a new girl in years! How do you think Ken will react?” asked Rema smiling as you 3 all started to walk

“Ken?” you asked furrowing your eyebrows at the familiar name

“Oh right, We’ll have to introduce you to him and everyone else tomorrow. He’s the bosses foster kid..I think you two are actually the same age.” said Rema bringing her pointer finger to her chin

“Mhm mhm! Oh and since you're new, tomorrow I will take your pictures for the board, you can borrow one of my sets till you can afford to buy one for yourself, how does that sound Y/n?” asked Remi smiling and holding your hand

“It sounds..great! Thank you so much.” you said bowing your head slightly

“No worries! Hopefully the boss will take you in.” said Remi patting your head

“Yeah..” you said as you 3 continued to walk to the brothel

You couldn't seem to get your mind off of that familiar name..Ken? You swore you knew someone named that. It definitely wasn't a popular name so it’s not like you knew it from some type of T.V program.. After thinking hard your whole way to your new home you couldn't seem to remember them. The person named Ken. And so you decided to brush it off for the time being.

The brothel was pretty big, and consisted of 12 girls, not including yourself. It was really late so everyone was asleep. Remi and Rema showed you to your room which was much more spacious than your room at home. They told you that you were allowed to decorate it and style it however you wanted. But they told you it was important to know that this was the room where business would be done, and not to leave important things around since some of the men came into brothels for the sole purpose of stealing. Remi even told you a story about how one of her clients tried to steal one of her panites, but then the boy named Ken stopped him by knocking him out with one punch to the stomach.

“He sounds strong-” you laughed as they gave you a small tour

“He sure is! Like the bodyguard of this place! He’s a sweetheart!” said Remi smiling

“I’m sure..!” you smiled

“Alright that’s about it, you should shower now and get ready for tomorrow. The boss will probably wanna take a look at you before seeing if he wants you. But I'm sure he will! You're pretty so it’ll go smoothly!” said Remi handing you her shower stuff for you to use for tonight and a set

“Got it, and again...thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” you said again

“Of course! Remember..we’re neighbors so feel free to knock whenever you need something..Also I can give you some tips before your first client so you know what to do.” she said smiling

“Right, goodnight then!..” you said feeling your face get hot at how she so easily talked about sex.

After that, you did exactly as she said, you showered. You thoroughly washed your body, face, and hair. Getting out you looked down at the set Remi gave you. It was just a black bra and matching panties with a silk cover up which made you feel better knowing you could cover up with that.

You rubbed your mouth as you started to rethink your decision. I mean...you respected sex workers..but was this life what you were willing to settle for? Aimlessly waiting around for some random horny man to choose you and do things with you just for you to get only 40% of the payment? Was this all really worth it? Leaving home to avoid your problems...to end up here? You were grateful, yes, Remi and Rema were so sweet and open with you. You could only hope that the others were just as nice. You really wanted things to go well, and that can only start with some good rest.

You woke up to a knock on your door, to see Remi and Rema walking in with a smile

“Morninggg!” they sang as you quickly got out of bed

“Hi!” you said frantically

“No need to rush! Usually men start coming in at 10, but since you don't work here officially yet you got to sleep in a bit! But the boss called for you, you should go to the set up room down the hall to get ready, remember it?” asked Rema

“Yeah I do. Thank you for waking me-!” you said smiling and grabbing your stuff and shoes

“Course, good luck Y/n!” they said as you quickly walked out of your room to get ready

As you walked in, there were a few other girls getting ready. You smiled and introduced yourself to them, and them to you. They were all so nice and pretty. It made you feel a little bit better about being here, and less nervous since they complimented your looks. You got ready in about 10 minutes, letting one of the other girls help you out with your hair and stuff like that. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror before stepping out and waving to the girls ‘bye.’

You nervously walked to the boss's door. You took a deep breath before knocking. You heard a muffled ‘come in!’ so you walked in smiling while holding your covering close. You gave a nervous closed eyes smile before seeing his office was simple, just a desk with a bunch of papers and a chair on the other side.

“Y/n, correct?” he asked placing down his paper and taking off his glasses to look at you

“Yes.” you said smiling

“Pleasure-” he said leaning over the desk to shake your hand

“Likewise.” you said smiling, shaking his hand firmly before sitting down

“Well, I’m sure Remi and Rema told you just about everything you need to know, I take 60% of your earrings, I use that stuff to pay for rent and bills for you girls and my kid… which usually takes up about 30% of that 60%, meaning you make a profit of 40, while I make only a profit of 30 per girl.” he said

“Yeah, I was told.” you said smiling nervously fiddling with your hands

“Good good, now that that's over with..” he said getting up ad signing

“I’m just gonna take a look at you, no need to be nervous I’m not gonna touch you or anything, so please don’t feel worried.” he said smiling

“Right!” you said getting up

“Alright just do a quick 360 with arms up.” he said smiling

“Okay.” you said doing as he said

He looked you up and down but not in a lustful way at all, it was more of like a ‘just seeing how you’ll hold up’ kinda look, almost like he was a bit worried for you.

“Thank you-” he said sitting back down as you did the same feeling nervous

“I was also told you’re 18? Right?” he asked looking down at his papers

“Yeah that's right.” you said

“Well I don't usually have this talk with the other woman because they're older. I know the age of consent in Japan is 16 and blah blah, but you’re still pretty young, are you sure you wanna work like this?” he asked looked into your eyes

“...Not entirely but it’s the best I can do right now.” you said with a determined face

“I see- we’ll then welcome, and just remember you can leave whenever you want, but give a 2 weeks notice. When Remi is done, ask her to take your picture.” he said

“Understood, thank you!” you said said smiling and leaving

You walked out of the room, closing the door carefully signing in relieve

That went pretty well.

You thought

You started to walk down the hall so that you could ask Remi to take your picture. But when you put your ear to the door, you heard lewd noises letting you know she wasn’t done just yet. It was already 5, and the brothel closes at 10. You didn’t really know what to do, so you walked over to the kitchen, sitting down at one of the stools waiting for Remi and or Rema to finish up with their work. You tapped the pen that was on the table and started to look around the kitchen. You remembered Remi told you there were snacks in the cabinets, so you got up and started to open and close them one by one to find something to eat. You finally found a cabinet filled instant ramen, you grabbed one and started to pour water into it, popping it into the microwave that was on the counter top. You stood in front of it waiting, playing with the loose strings of you covering when suddenly you heard the door open.

“I’m home.” said the tall boy with dark hair tied back to reveal a dragon tattoo on the side of his head

Is this Ken?

You thought as the microwave beeped, making his eyes turn to you

You quickly shot your eyes to the microwave, hoping he didn’t notice your stare. He looked so familiar it was almost irritating how you couldn’t remember him. You took the hot cup out of the microwave, placing it down on the counter top, ignoring his presence as he walked over, placing down the plastic bag in his hand, noticing your frustrated face trying to figure out where the utensils are.

“Left of the sink are where they are.” he said sitting down on the stool across from you after looking at your face a bit

“Thank you.” you said smiling nervously turning around to grab a pair of chopsticks

“Are you new here?” he asked taking out a styrofoam box from the plastic bag, opening it to reveal a hot meal of meat and rice and vegetables

“Yeah..I was supposed to start today but I don’t have my pictures taken yet.” you said smiling turning back to mix your noodles

“Could you grab me a pair too?” he asked realizing he forgot to take a pair of chopsticks from the restaurant

“Sure-” you said turning back quickly to grab some for him, placing it in his hands as he gave you a soft smile making your eyes widen slightly.

“You look familiar..” you both said at the same time making both your eyebrows raise in shock then turn into a slight scoff from the both of you

“Glad we’re on the same page then.” he said taking a bite of his food as you did the same still standing

“You know you can sit down, don’t feel nervous.” he said looking up you slightly

“..yeah.” you said smiling, walking around and sitting next to him.

“So when’d you come?” he asked turning his head slightly to see your mouth filled with noodles making him smile a bit

“..I came by last night, really late with Remi and Rema.” you said after finishing your bite

“I see...I feel like I remember you from somewhere, can’t pinpoint it though.” he said looking back down at his food

“Same here, and you must be Ken though, right? When I first heard your name I swore the same thing but I just can’t remember..” you said before sipping some of the broth of your soup

“Yeah, but you can call me Draken and your name?” he asked getting up to grab a napkin from across the table

“Draken...sure! Oh right, my bad. It’s Y/n. Nice to meet you-” you said smiling holding your hand out for him to shake

He only completely shot up to look into your eyes with his wide ones. You gave him a confused look as you watched him get knocked out of his thoughts, bring his hand up to shake your hand before clearing his throat and walking back over to sit. Maybe you struck a nerve? Maybe had the same name as someone who hurt him in the past? You really didn’t know but it made you feel interested. He looked like he just had his life flash before his eyes or something.

“Are you okay?” you asked

“Uh yeah, I’m fine. My head just hurts a bit.” he said looking as if he was deep in thought

“Oh? I have some tylenol in my room.. You want one? Or I can make you a cold drink, you’re probably dehydrated?” you asked smiling a bit

Draken turned his head to look at you, his mouth was parted, and he just looked so..anxious? You couldn’t even tell, almost like congested because he wanted to say something.

Draken felt his heartbeat quicken when he heard your name. As soon as you said it, a random memory that was buried deep in the back of his mind hit him as he quickly re-lived it. But could it really be you? The Y/n he knew from so so so long ago? Around 10 years ago? There could be no way, he remembers the girl moving to a different city..the chances were so low that it could really be you already.

But the second you said those words.. Those words of offering to make something for him, or give him something, despite you thinking you only just met him...Made him know that it was really the Y/n he met when he was only a little boy...but how the hell did you turn up here? In a place and part of town like this? He was so confused and just wanted to ask you...but you still didn’t remember him.

“..No I’m alright, thanks..can I ask you somethin-” said Draken before being interrupted

“Y/n!! Come on, let's take your pictures!” yelled Remi coming out of her room waving as a man walked out too buttoning his shirt

“Sorry, just remember what you wanted to say and tell me later.” you said smiling and standing up and walking over to Remi

Draken watched you as you walked away. He saw Remi give you a hug, and the man that was walking out checked you out to which Draken gave him a pissed off look. Making the man smile nervously, wave, and leave.

Do you really wanna live your life like this, Y/n?

He thought to himself before packing up his trash and throwing it away

Remi took your pictures, telling you to do different poses etc, and you finally settled on one. You walked over to the front of the house to place your picture in its designated area above your name. You signed, stepping back to look at it, fixing your gaze to see Draken was walking over with his hands in his pocket, looking as he was going to leave. You saw him glance at the photo making you feel slightly embarrassed.

“Nice.” he said smiling but looking into your eyes in a way where it looked like he was concerned for you.

Just as you were about to thank him a man walked in and started looking at you making you feel nervous. The man requested you, and so you smiled at him pointing your hand to where the showers were, as you started to walk behind him, you turned your hand giving a thumbs up to Draken with a nervously flushed face, smiling, as he he brought his hand up giving you a thumbs up with soft and concerning eyes before opening the door and leaving. It made your smile fade slightly, you’ve seen that face before from him. But not from today.. And it was all you could think about during your work.

As you laid in your room, after work you couldn’t help but feel a little bit...stupid? You felt so unsatisfied, not because of your customers but because you just couldn’t remember. It felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch hard enough, and with every interaction you had with the boy almost felt like a tease, like the itch just became more itchy and your scratches just became more weak. Maybe if you spend more time with him, you’ll remember?

It had been about 4 weeks, 4 weeks of saving your money, and every 4 weeks the boss collected his fair share of the cut. It wasn’t a pretty 4 weeks, it was probably the worst 4 weeks of your life. But... you and Draken would often exchange stories about your lives late at night which you enjoyed a lot. It always makes you feel better. But yet again you still couldn't figure him out. You felt as though you’ve met him before, and as though you two have had these kinds of talks before.

Draken only grew more and more helpless, seeing how you still haven’t remembered. He was slowly watching your life crumble. He felt so angry that you settled and believed you deserved to live like this, barely scraping by. He felt so awful, and saw how you grew so tired of it all. He just so badly wanted you to remember him, so that he could once again talk to you like he did before.

You had one last customer before closing, going through your usual routine, this n that, the man offered you a drink. You stupid obliged drinking it, hoping it would make your time more enjoyable but you were wrong, so very wrong, and so very stupid for drinking that stupid drink. You remember some parts, you did your job, then it all went black.. You woke up after hearing knocking on your door. You jumped out of bed, confused. You remember seeing the man leave as you started to fall asleep but that's about it. Usually you never fall asleep after the work because you never do much, your mind started to panic. But the door opened revealing Remi smiling.

“Hey sleepy! Boss says it’s your turn, come on, get your cash!” she said smiling

“Right let me just..it’s in my drawer..I don't know why I fell asleep so fast I think alcohol makes me sleepy.” you said getting out of bed and kneeling in front of your drawer to get the envelope of cash you had been saving.

“Heh, same here. I never accepted drinks from clients..they never had good intentions with that!” she said coming over and sitting at your bed

“..yeah.” you said starting to feel that panic arise in your body when seeing the envelope was...gone.

“What's wrong?” asked Remi noticing you were frozen

“I- the money..It’s gone..he took it..” you said with wide eyes feeling as though you were about to sob realizing you had just lost thousands of yen.

“Don’t say that..it..it probably just got misplaced! Come on, I'll help you look!” said Remi getting up

You couldn't even respond because of the amount of panic you were in. Your heart was racing and you felt tears fall from your eyes. After about 15 minutes of looking, you two found nothing. Absolutely nothing. You sat on the floor with your hand over your mouth, again, trying to keep a level head.

What now..?

You thought to yourself feeling hot tears stream from your face.

“Hey..guys? Boss is calling for you Y/n..what’s going on?” asked Rema walking in seeing you covering your face, crying

“She was robbed by the guy who just left, he put something in her drink to knock her out while he looked around and took the money...she doesn’t have the money.” said Remi

Rema’s mouth parted in shock and pity.

How could you mess up something so easy? All you had to do was keep your money safe. But you even failed at that.

“You have to tell him, Y/n.” said Rema rubbing your back

“Yea..yeah, could you two just give me a second? I’ll be right out.” you said smiling while wiping your face

“Sure.” they said frowning and walking out

You fisted your hands, and grabbed your covers before screaming into them to muffle your sounds..

Okay..it was a couple of thousand yen...not too bad right? I can promise the money by tomorrow..I’ll pick up some sort of street job...yeah! That’s good. Everything is fine..it’s fine.

You thought to yourself before wiping your face on more time and slapping both sides of your cheeks to wake you up.

You got up and walked to the bosses door feeling the eyes of people on your back. You knocked on the door before opening it slowly, refusing to make eye contact as you went to stand in front of the man with your arms behind your back.

“Alrighttt, let’s see here, in the last four weeks you had a total of 37 customers, so you should have around 300,000 yen, correct?” he asked looking at his paper

“Yes.” you said still looking down

“Alright, just hand it to me so I can count and divide it, you can sit.” he said smiling holding his hand out

“I..I don-” you said before being interrupted by a knock

“Come in.” he said

“Hey sorry dad, Y/n left her money with me while she went out. Thought I should bring it to her. Remember, Y/n?” said Draken walking in with an envelop in his hand smiling as he came to stand next to you, as you nodded your head ‘yes’

“Oh, thank you Ken.” he said smiling and taking the envelop

Your mouth parted as you gave a confused look, Draken only smiled and gave you a thumbs up while his dad counted the money. You felt so guilty and shocked, and all you could do was just stand there, like an idiot.

“Here you are...120,000 back..” he said, patting the money on the table to make it flat, putting it back into the envelope and handing it to you

You hesitantly brought your hand to grab it, glancing over at Draken who gave you small smile

“Thank you-” you said to him seeing Draken was already opening the door to leave

You quickly followed after him as he walked into his room. Before entering his room he turned around and looked down at you

You felt your eyes soften as you felt as though you were about to cry again, you tilted your head and neck down biting the inside of your cheek to keep in your cry.

“I promise I’ll pay all of it back by tomorrow, all 300,000.” you said

“Do you ever give yourself a break?” he asked as you brought your head up to look at him seeing he looked almost irritated

“You didn’t even ask why I did it, you just immediately jumped to feeling guilty. And you don’t need to pay me back. Really.” he said bringing his hand to close to the door, but you stopped him by grabbing his wrist making his breath hitch

“Why?” you asked looking into his eyes

“You still don’t remember? Even after all this time we’ve spent together?” he asked smiling as you took your hand off his wrist

“Remember...?” you asked furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, but then it suddenly hit you

“I swear it wasn’t me! I didn't steal!” yelled a little boy with blonde hair as two cops stood in front of him

You tilted your head and walked closer, but still keeping your distance to hear. It was a winter day and you were on your way to the corner store to buy some snacks, but you were met with an interesting scene. You kept your hands in your pockets as you listened over to the boy screaming and pleading his innocence

“I wouldn’t steal something so stupid! What would a kid like me need a lighter for!! I don’t know how it ended up in my pocket! Lay off!” he yelled as the officer dangled the lighter in front of his face

A lighter?

“Keep it down! We know how troubled you kids are here! Especially with those tattoos!” yelled back the cop as the boy grew angry and fisted his hands, ready to punch the cop

“Hey!!!” he heard a voice yelled

“Hey wait a minute!” you yelled waving your hand smiling as you ran to the scene

“Can we help you?” asked one of the cops in a soft tone

The blonde boy grew quiet, and you saw his hands loosen as he looked at your smiling face

“Yeah, why are you two yelling at my brother?” you asked furrowing your brows at the two grown man

“...Your so-called brother stole a lighter from the corner store right behind you, where are your parents? We would like to have a word with them.” he said standing up straight

“Yeah, and talk about how they let their son tattoo himself already..” said one under his breath making the other laugh

You looked over at the boy growing angry, you gave him a smile..making him calm down.

“He said it was just an accident, I asked him to pick up a lighter from the store so that we could light a candle at our father’s grave! See!” you said digging into your bag to pull out a candle

“He probably felt pressured because I asked him to get it, so if you’re gonna get mad at someone, get mad at me!” you said as you started to fake cry

“It’s our father's death anniversary, and you're yelling at kids for making a mistake.” you faked cried

“Yeah!!” yelled the boy making you smile under your hands as the two officers became anxious, feeling bad for what they had just done.

“..we’re sorry. Please let us apologize.” they said slightly bowing at you two

“I don’t think we can accept it...you two also made fun of the dragon tattoo on his head!...dragons were our dads favorite animal. He risked his life fighting for Japan and you two are laughing at him! Is that how your mother taught you how to behave?” you asked pretending to wipe you tears as the blonde boy watched you in awe seeing you toy with grown men

“Please let us treat you both to whatever you’d like from the corner store as an apology!” they both said bowing lower making you smile and look back at the boy. You gave him a thumbs up as a smile grew on his face

“Fine..come on then?” you said as both the officers raised their heads, opening the doors of the corner store for you both

You and the blonde boy walked around the store, filling your baskets with all types of things. The blonde boy watched you in just pure awe as you walked around picking your favorite snacks, as he did the same, glancing at you every now and then.

“Here.” you said smiling at the cops

“Right!” they said frantically taking out their wallets as the boy placed down his stuff nervously, still watching you

“Oh and-” you said reaching your hand to grab the lighter from the officer and placing it into the bunch of snacks

You smiled, your hands were behind your back as you watched the officers pay for yours and the boys' food, placing them into bags for you guys too. You grabbed the lighter and your bag, as the boy did the same

“Mom told us to meet her at the cemetery steps, remember?” you said looking into the boys eyes

“..yeah, I remember.” he said smiling feeling his face become hot

“Let’s go then.” you said smiling and taking his hand as you two ran out of the store

After a bit you two stopped and sat on the curbside while you both chose a snack to eat.

“Here’s your lighter, you don’t have to stay with me by the way.” you said handing him the steel lighter

“..Thanks” he said

“Sure- what do you need it for anyway?” you asked smiling

“My boss asked for it.” he said putting it in his pocket

“Oh, are you in some type of delinquent group?” you asked looking at him

“Yeah..” he said smiling

“That's cool, what do you guys do?” you asked taking a sip of your drink

“We kinda just...like...do stupid stuff and fight..” he said

“Sounds fun, but...stupid.” you said laughing making him scoff

“Why’d you do it?” he asked

“Do what?” you asked back turning you gaze to him

“Come in to cover me. You could’ve gotten in a lot of trouble because of me.” he said with a frustrated face

“You’re right, I just wanted to, that's all.” you said smiling making his mouth part and cheeks redden

“You seem pretty fun too so I thought we could be friends or something..” you said nervously

“Yeah! Sure- We can be friends!” he said happily making you feel flustered

“Well then, it’s nice to meet you, my name is Y/n, yours?” you asked holding over your hand

“Ken, but you can call me Draken-” he said taking ahold of your hand gently as you gave him a closed eyed smile blushing

“where the hell did you find that candle and com up with that whole sob story Y/n?”

“Dunno, I saw the candle on the ground by a newspaper, I kinda just winged it- “

After that day you remember hanging out with Draken almost every other day. You remember him telling you how he and his close friends started their own gang and needed some sort of funding, and so you gave it to him, on his birthday.

“I saved up! You said that you and your friends needed some money to start off so that you guys could buy a flag or banner? Right? Well, here’s 30,000 yen for your birthday!” you said handing him an envelope and a small balloon.

“Are-are you serious right now Y/n?” he asked taking the gifts, opening the envelope to look inside to see the money as his eyes lit up

“Yeah, I babysit more kids now so I was able to put some aside for you.” you said smiling satisfied with his reaction

He didn’t even say anything, all he did was bring his arms around you upper body, hugging you tight making you laugh as you brought yours to hug him back

“Thank you- you’re the best! The guys will be so happy!” he said smiling while grasping your wrists in excitement. Your eyes traced over his face as they soften. You smiled.

“Likewise.”

And- after that, you remember the day you 2 separated as friends. You both sat on the curbside, you remembered you called him to come and see you. It was a winter night and the sun was going down.

“I uh..well I don’t really know how to say this without sounding cliche but-”

“What? Are you gonna confess that you’re madly in love with me or something?” he asked grinning, making you sweat drop

“Jeez be quiet...I’m trying to make this a memorable moment-” you signed smiling, placing your palms on the cold cement

“Alright let’s hear it then Y/n-!” he said bringing his hands to the back of his head as he laid down looking up at the stars

You only frowned slightly, you shifted your position so that you could sit beside him and have a good look at his face.

“You’re scaring me..” he said jokingly making you smile

“It was really fun the past year.” you said smiling as Draken shot his head up to look at you face to face

“The hell are you talking like that for?” he asked furrowing his brows

“My parents can’t afford living in any districts in Tokyo anymore, so we’re moving to another city… about 4 hours train ride from Tokyo so-” you said looking down at your hands on the floor

“So? You act like I won't be able to come and see you or you come and see me..” he said ducking his head a bit so that you could look at him

“Draken, train tickets are about 220 yen per person, I can't afford it, and if you came by to see me I'd feel guilty because you’d be wasting your money just to only see me for like an hour.” you said

“How can I be wasting my money on you? It’s not wasting if I wanna do it and see you, plus what makes you think it'll only be a couple hours?” he asked

“I’ll have to start working once we get there, so I wouldn’t have anytime...I wanna start saving so that one day I can come back to Tokyo and live here, so that I can see your dream come true of helping your friend create a ‘new era of delinquents’ you know? I’ll even help you guys if you want with financial stuff or something.” you said smiling at him

Draken bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to tell you so bad how he felt but..

“Look, I have a feeling I know what you’re gonna say..just remember what you wanted to say and tell me later, okay?” you said placing your hand on top of his causing his eyes to widen

“...You’ll remember me, right?” he asked looking into your eyes deeply making your mouth part

“Yeah, I’ll remember you as long as you remember what you wanted to tell me. Cause I feel the same” you said smiling as a tear fell from your eyes

“good...I will.” he said smiling back and tilting his head and wiping it off your face

After the memories hit you, you stood there with wide eyes and tears, with your wrist covering your quivering mouth. You had completely suppressed your memories of Draken, and your feelings because you knew you wouldn't be able handle being apart from him for so long. And he did the same. You couldn’t imagine how unbearable it was for him to be waiting up like this. You looked up at him seeing his eyes were softly looking at you. You could do nothing but bring your arms around him hugging him, as he brought his arms around you to do the same. You were still such in shock.

“I never thought you’d end up in a place like this, living a life like this.” he said against your ear

“I don’t wanna see you like this, please let me take care of you like you did for me..” he said said tightening his grip slightly

You could only cry at his words, you didn’t even wanna try to speak because you knew it would only come out as a sob. Was it really alright for you to rely on someone so much?

He pulled back from the hug and looked at your face, seeing you were still crying as you nodded your head ‘yes’, he smiled and wiped them away with his thumb. The smile on his face...he looked so satisfied...and happy...happy that you finally remembered. Finally remembered him.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revenger x reader #draken #draken x reader #fluff #angst #idk lmfao #toman #draken x y/n #tokyo rev

239 notes · View notes

themculibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Peter 1, Peter 2, Peter 3 Masterlist

All Good Things Come In Threes (ao3) - batsbatsbatsbats G, 3k

Summary: It took weeks of brainstorming, getting barely any sleep, and slaving away but he’s finally done it. He successfully made a way to see the other Spider-Man again.

He dropped both transporters off and explained the mechanics of them before heading back to his own dimension.

Maybe they’ll use them, maybe they won’t. At least he left the choice to come back up to them instead of forcing them to stick around.

I mean why would they choose to stay.

Or:

Peter’s 2 and 3 visit the youngest Spider-Man after they get their dimension hoppers and aren’t too pleased about how burned out he is and how insecure he feels about his place in their lives.

Brothers (ao3) - Nock_and_Bolt peter/gwen T, 1k

Summary: “I’ve always wanted brothers,” he says, and there’s a lightness to it, an electric spark glimmering across the chasm beneath the words.

Good Things Come In Threes (fanfiction.net) - Val-Creative

Summary: Peter-3 and Peter-2 deal with their injuries and some usual feelings of attraction. They look after a grieving Peter-1. (Spiderman: No Way Home Movie Spoilers.)

I just wanna let you know I'm proud (ao3) - Supreme_OverGnome peter/mary, peter/gwen, mj/peter

Summary: After No Way Home, the Peter Parkers are having personal struggles. No one really understands Spiderman like Spiderman does.

So by some fateful miracle, they are able to write to each other, and get the encouragement, help, love (platonic), and listening ear they need.

in search of someone else (ao3) - merikai N/R, 4k

Summary: no way home spoilers in tags and in summary

And it's strange; the only way they got here last time was through Strange’s portal, and that's probably how they got here now. But—Strange doesn't remember him. That's impossible. Except they're standing right in front of him, and it's all he's got.

Moving on and Mourning (At Last) (ao3) - redshirt36 G, 6k

Summary: “I mean, sure.” Wade said as he sat up a bit. “But what about the reflexes? That’s super handy in a fight.”

“Yeah. But- I mean, all of us have pretty good reflexes. Wade, I’ve seen you dodge bullets before- well, not that that really matters, anyways. And Matt, you caught that brick that got thrown through the window.”

For a moment, the room went quiet before Matt finally spoke up. “Peter, what brick?”

no matter the distance, no matter the difference, and no matter the issue (ao3) - Never_Give_In peter/mary T, 6k

Summary: Alternatively, 5 times Peter Two and Peter Three visit Peter One's dimension, and the 2 times Peter One visits theirs.

parker and the ring ^3 (ao3) - galaxyquill mj/peter T, 14k

Summary: With the casting of a spell, Peter Parker lost everyone that he loved.

Well, almost everyone.

(It’s kind of hard to forget Peter Parker when you’re Peter Parker, isn’t it?)

When the world forgets Peter One, the Sling Ring brings his fellow Spider-Men swinging into his universe - right when he needs them the most. And how could he not return the favor for his new brothers?

pieces into place (ao3) - pinklemonades T, 2k

Summary: “If anyone was the leader, it would have been Tony Stark, Iron Man.”

With a confident grin, Peter 3 snaps his fingers. “Let me guess: he was a guy made out of iron!”

“Um, no. Not exactly.”

(aka a self-indulgent fic of Peter 1, 2, & 3 just chilling together with a slight addition of hurt/comfort)

Protocol: Hasta la Vista (ao3) - Petra4President peter/mj T, 7k

Summary: “Boss has programmed me to always listen, even when inert. At the use of the word ‘underoos,’ a new file has been unlocked.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, setting the headpiece back on his lap. His alternative selves remained silent, listening in awe. He wondered if AI’s existed in their universes.

“What kind of file is it?”

“A video file. Boss requested that it can only be viewed by you under two circumstances: you must say ‘underoos’ and in the event of his death.” He froze at that, eyes widening as realization hit him like a semi-truck.

Tony left him a video. A video that he could only watch if he had died. A final goodbye message to him.

OR, the one where Peter One discovers one last message to him from Tony Stark. Good thing he has his Spider-Bros for emotional support.

Tergeminus (ao3) - jade_rabbit peter/mary jane, mj/peter N/R, 13k

Summary: SPOILERS FOR SPIDERMAN: NO WAY HOME. The following is a fix-it story of sorts following the events of the movie.

-----

They made an incredible team and even Strange had to admit that he was proud to see how well they moved together once they figured out how to dodge each other’s webs. He saw out of the corner of his eye when the teenaged girl had fallen off the platform -when one Peter couldn’t reach her, another took his place without a second thought, driven by the deep need to do the right thing.

Of all the people in all the universes, of course it’d be Peter Parker who’d make the best teammates with himself, Strange thought with exasperation and fondness.

The Oath (ao3) - jade_rabbit christine/stephen, peter/mary jane

Summary: SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: NO-WAY HOME. Takes place in my Tergeminus AU, where Tom Holland's Peter has figured out a way to reunite with his brothers using the magical ring that he took from Ned/Strange.

-------

The youngest Peter’s shoulders sagged with defeat at those words. He wiped at his wet eyes. “I hate this,” he whispered, “People always get hurt because of me.”

Peter-Three said nothing for a long, pregnant pause. “No. People will get hurt anyways,” he admitted finally, “Spiderman is just there to do his best and minimize the damage.”

Peter-One gave a sad laugh. “You sounded like Peter-Two just now.”

The taller Peter’s mouth went dry at the compliment. He laid a hand on Peter-Two’s bloodied chest. “Yeah, well, I try.”

The Workings of Webs (ao3) - eldritchopossum G, 9k

Summary: Spoilers for No Way Home below this line.

Peters One and Three are curious about Peter Two's spinnerets.

three is the magic number (ao3) - Goldiee (Pastel_Gold) peter/gwen G, 587

Summary: “May is dead because of me!” His voice cracked. “MJ and Ned can’t live normal lives because of me,” He sobbed. “Now all these villains are here, and I don’t know what to do!”

"It's all my fault!" Peter cried, holding his head in his hands.

Suddenly, strong arms encircled him from both sides. Peter gasped and moved his hands away from his face.

“You’re just a kid, Peter.” Peter Two spoke softly.

----

While waiting on the Statue of Liberty, Peter feels insecure and thinks he's not good enough. His multiverse buddies comfort him and convince him that's not true.

three, that’s the magic number (ao3) - zippe peter/gwen G, 7k

Summary: Peter gets sick. Good news is he's got people who care and want to help. Bad news is he doesn’t know he’s got people… and some of them are across the multiverse

Better news is that it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out (and a universal gap isn’t as big as it seems)

To Meet Again (ao3) - RikuKingdomHearts3 T, 33k

Summary: Though the memories of Peter Parker are gone and everyone forgot, it doesn't mean they are truly gone. The memories are merely broken from a chain, but they still remain. Those broken memories sometimes can find their way into dreams, but that is something Peter has yet to figure out.

For now he learned that there is a bond between him and the Spider-Men, and it is a bond that can even transcend the multiverse itself. That bond may just be what Peter needs to get through this new start to his life and help him discover what is needed.

two unread messages (ao3) - zippe peter/mary

Summary: It’s a long way home, but Peter makes it there. He doesn’t realize how much misses it, and how much time he has, until he’s back

Where the Sunlight Ends (ao3) - thelostcolony peter/mary T, 76k

Summary: Peter Parker (One) is alone. That's the first thing. Now he just has to figure out all the others.

Peter Parker Number Three only just got brothers. He doesn’t want to let them go—not for anything, not even world colliding, ground shattering villain things. Peter Parker Number Three is also a scientist. So he puts on his lab coat, hunkers down, and gets to work.

Peter Parker #2 is the oldest. He's the oldest; the first of them to be told that with great power comes great responsibility. That great power has now extended to two mini-Petes across the universe—both of whom need him.

OR: It's time to really multiverse this shit, baby.

with great power, there must also come great responsibility (ao3) - hunkahulkaaburningfudge G, 79k

Summary: The Avengers watch their future.

A Spider-Man: No Way Home + Venom: Let There Be Carnage post-credits watch-it fic.

Wise Guy (ao3) - honeysucklesonata G, 6k

Summary: Who knew Peter 3 would be a little trouble maker off of anesthesia?

Peter 1 & 2 take care of Peter 3 after he gets wisdom teeth removed. Sounds simple, right?

#themculibrary #mcu #marvel #spiderman: no way home #spiderman: no way home masterlist #masterlists #peter 1 #peter 2 #peter 3 #peter parker

7 notes · View notes

racheloveyunho · 3 years ago

Text

Till Death do us part - 1

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess, bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 2486

TW: Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug, kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

Chapter 1

I still wonder what would have happened if I didn’t meet him during this gloomy night? We were young and I was way too brave for my own good. Maybe it was my faith or maybe it was a sheer coincidence but now, I know that I will love him till death do us part.

---------

5 years ago.

"Hey Y/N, wake up sleepyhead! It’s time to go to school and I will surely not wait for the princess to wake up" my brother yelled loudly from the first floor, waking me up in the process.

I groaned and shifted uncomfortably in my bed; it was too much noise at such an early time of the day. My long-browned hair was messy from the last night, as always. I was the type of girl to move a lot during my sleep and my morning head was always a funny one, swollen, with small eyes and with some of my lightly curled hair stuck in my mouth. After five minutes of rethinking my life decisions, I found enough motivation to get out of my bed and walked down the stairs.

"Why the hell did I agree to help other students during holidays, huh?” I asked my brother as I lazily rubbed my tummy.

“Maybe because you are too dumb to say no to your teachers?” he answered, his mouth full of food.

“Do you mind keeping your mouth shut while you are eating? It’s disgusting.” I shook my head disapprovingly.

I headed toward the kitchen to get a cup of fresh milk. Jin, my brother, childishly opened his mouth wide to show me the content of it. I let out a long “Ew!” before smashing his arm playfully.

“No, but seriously Y/N. There’s no use to be brilliant at school if that means you have to help your classmates with their studies during holidays” Jin said after taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, but the teacher who asked me this favor told me that he will write a recommendation for me if I agreed to help him” I answered.

“You don’t even need a recommendation, we’re from a rich family” Jin mumbled to himself but it was loud enough for me to hear it.

He wasn’t totally wrong and I knew it. We were born with a silver spoon in our mouth. We were “cake eater” as the other kids used to call us when we were younger, we never knew what it felt like to run out of money and everyone at school was jealous of me because of that.

But they didn’t know. No one knew how hard it actually was for me and my brother.

My mother passed away 2 years ago, and since then, my father didn’t stay at home with us longer than a week straight. He was always working, working, and working again, his job had literally become his life. He was one of the richest men in Korea and still, he was always eager for more and worked every day and night for it.

He wasn’t a good father for me and Jin. He never made any compliments to us, all he was able to do was to pressure us to be as perfect as possible or at least perfect enough to not ashamed him and his reputation. Unlike my brother, I wanted to hear my father say that he was proud of me, just for once. That’s why I was trying hard to be the perfect daughter, with good grades, good manners, and good appearance but even if I tried my best, it wasn’t enough for him.

“Do you know why I’m working so hard, Jin?” I asked him, voice as soft as a whisper, almost not daring to tell the truth.

“Why?” Jin put a hand on the top of mine, a sign of comfort since he already knew my upcoming answer.

“I don’t want to follow his rules forever. I’m still a minor so I had to stick at them but when I’ll turn 20, I will leave this house and will never come back” I sadly stated, “I want to marry a man I’m in love with, I want to do a job I like and most of all, I don’t want our father to commend my life.”

Jin tightened his grip on my hand. He understood me, he understood me too well. We were indeed rich but we were far from being happy. Jin was 6 years older than me which means he was already an adult. He wanted to leave this house as much as me but couldn’t bring himself to do so and leave me behind.

Unlike me, Jin has never been a good student, he always has been considered a failure to our father, and even if he finally was able to run away from here, he stayed there for me. I was really lucky to have a brother like him and I was well aware of that.

I took my breakfast and came back to my room to take a quick shower and get ready for this day I knew would be exhausting.

My brother was already waiting in his car. Jin took me to school as often as he could. He was working on a supermarket he owned and even if he was pretty busy, he wanted to spend his mornings with his “sweet baby sister” as he liked to call me.

I am indeed lucky to have a brother like him.

8 pm, it was already late when I heard the bell ring for the last time today. I was the last one to leave the class as I helped my teacher with the preparation of some material for the next day. It didn’t bother me too much, I wasn’t in a hurry to get home since I knew my dad was finally coming back home from his work.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t miss him at all, even after all this time. I wandered here and there even though the street was already pitch black.

“Oh! It’s been a while since I last went to the haunted alley!” I happily exclaimed to myself.

I knew every nook and cranny of Seoul, I grew up there after all. My favorite place was the haunted alley. As its name suggests and according to some beliefs, that path would be haunted.

It was an old story I heard with my friends when I was less than 10 years old. A grandma from our neighborhood scolded us and told us not to stay there because there was a woman who had been murdered in the walkway and that since then, one could hear her cry every night.

A simple way to scare naïve kids you may think, and you are more than right. However, this story is known by everyone, not just by kids. That’s the reason why I love this place, thanks to all of these rumors, no one uses this path except me. It was like my secret place.

I walked around the alley with heavy steps, thinking about my father and his upcoming lecture about how to be a good girl. My thoughts were suddenly stopped by the voice of two men who seemed to be fighting each other. I stayed still for a moment, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.

“You piece of shit! And you claim yourself as the Boss” son?” One voice laughed.

I hid in the dark and saw what could have been mistaken with a scene from a horror movie. Between two old houses, a tall man was beating up a boy who seemed to be around my age.

I felt shivers down my spine but before I could even think straight, my body started to move with its own will.

“Hey! Let him go!” I shouted, my voice betraying me by showing how scared I really was.

I moved closer to the two men, I could now see them more clearly.

The young boy was sitting on the ground, badly bleeding, whereas the tall man was standing in front of him, blood on his hand and his nose broken.

They were watching me. The silence was heavy, the only thing I could hear was the beating of my racing heart and the shake of my knees that were begging me to run away from this place. The silence was soon replaced by an ominous laugh.

“Wow. What a beauty! Is she your girlfriend? Huh?” The tall man laughed and hit the youngest on his stomach before coming closer to me.

He came closer, until he was in front of me. I had a better view of his poor state. He wasn’t less bleeding than the other man, his blood was actually covering his whole face.

I don’t know what had taken into me at this exact moment, the adrenaline was rushing in my veins and even though my feet were stuck on the ground, unable to move, my hand reached the pepper spray I always carried in my bag. Before the man could react, I used my weapon against him.

When the chemical product had reached his eyes, he screamed and placed his hands on his face, trying desperately to soothe the pain. I took advantage of the situation and kicked him as hard as I could on his crotch before he fell loudly on the ground.

I quickly grabbed the boy by his arm and helped him stand up. He was badly injured but followed me without any complaint.

I was panting when I reached a lighted street. We stopped there, trying to catch our breath. I turned around to face the man I was still holding and my breath hitched in my throat, not from the run I previously had but because of how beautiful this man looked.

“Are you okay? What is your name?” I asked him but he simply stayed silent, staring at me with his piercing eyes.

I took a better look at his features, he was really handsome with a well-defined face. He wasn't older than me but he hadn't the body of a teenager either. His broad shoulders and his arms muscles could be seen without any effort from him. His dark hair was harmonizing with the dark of his eyes and his dimples were visible as the border of his lips turned upright in an inviting smirk.

How can someone like him be involved in such a fight?

“The sight is at your taste?” he giggled, his smile spreading wider.

I finally took notice of my staring when I heard him laugh. I must say it was the most beautiful laugh I ever heard, slightly high-pitched but almost bewitching.

“I wasn’t staring!” I shouted from embarrassment. Fortunately, the darkness of the night was covering the redness on my cheeks.

“Sure, you weren’t” He added, amused by my reaction “I’m San. Choi San. I didn’t need your help earlier but thank you, I’m glad you rescued me”

He came closer to me and gave me a sincere smile, showing even more his dimples.

My heart was going crazy in my chest. This boy seemed small earlier compared to the other man but he was way taller than me, maybe 7 inches taller.

“You’re welcome”

I was a bit intimidated by him but I dared not to look away. He had something special, an aura that seemed as dangerous as comforting. His gaze was intense and deep, it was like he was looking through me, memorizing every detail of my face.

He didn’t move and didn’t talk for at least 2 minutes and even if I was feeling uncomfortable, I did my best not to let him know.

“Where is your house?” he finally asked after what felt like an eternity.

He startled me with his sudden question, I didn’t expect him to talk this soon. Why did he want to know where I lived? He probably wanted to walk me home and I would have gladly let this handsome guy walk me home if I hadn’t met him in an odd situation.

‘But he is really handsome…’ I thought, sighing softly, making San arch an eyebrow.

“It’s okay, I live near here, no need to walk me home. You can go ahead…” I said “Go ahead to…the hospital, your house or…go murdering someone…whichever comes first” I added, lowering my voice at the end of my sentence.

His face changed into a surprised expression “I wasn’t going to walk you home, don’t worry”

I sighed in relief even if I felt a bit disappointed, maybe he wasn't that bad after all.

“I want to stalk you” he stared at me with his beautiful smile as if it was the most natural thing to say.

‘What the fuck?’

“Sure, stalking me haha, it was obvious, silly me!” I gently hit my head and laughed awkwardly, taking a step back from him.

He laughed sweetly and took my chin between his thumb and his index to lift my face up. His mouth came closer to my ear and he whispered a small “Just joking” before turning his heels back and leaving me, alone, in the dark street.

I was finally back home. Fortunately for me, my dad hadn’t noticed me since he was already sleeping on the couch.

I quickly went upstairs to my room and collapsed on my bed, my mind still processing what had happened earlier. It was scary to say the least but fascinating at the same time. I was still confused even after showering. This San had a deep effect on me, not only mentally but physically too.

“Choi San…” I muttered before closing my eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.

---------

This is my first story, it’s bad but I’ll try to improve myself!

This series will be uploaded slowly since I don't have a lot of time.

Thank you for reading!

#choi san #san ateez #san #mafia ateez #mafia au #ateez scenario #ateez au #kpop #kpop mafia #ateez angst #ateez fluff #strangers to lovers #ateez series

132 notes · View notes

kerie-prince · 4 years ago

Text

We're Worlds Apart (2)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: light cursing, mentions of death, angsty Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

(gif not mine)

The surrounding neighbors have been very nice; one elderly couple walked up to Draco’s door with an apple pie, quite the American staple, and he seemed to appreciate it. They seemed normal and sweet. Much unlike the feeling he had for his neighbor. Y/N. He hasn't made any attempts in the month that he's lived in the small suburban neighborhood to see her. He avoided her like she was a deadly plague.

Albeit, it was probably harsh and extremely childish. The whole point of him becoming a new person was changing his views he had been taught in adolescence. Or else why did he help Harry Potter all those years ago when he swore he hated him?

It was currently around 3 in the morning, he was standing in his backyard and made sure no one would be awake as he sent his owl to send a letter to his best friend, Blaise. He was the only person who still contacted Draco on a regular basis besides the occasional letter from Theodore. Gregory cut all contact with Draco after the Battle, especially since Vincent had died that night in the fire in the Room of Requirement. Pansy was living her life somewhere, and although the Golden Trio had forgiven Draco for his actions, it didn't start any friendships. But Draco was fine; Blaise and Theo had been there for him in more ways he cares to admit.

He never mentioned a word about Y/N to Blaise until now when he asked what Draco’s American neighbors were like. Majority of the letter contained contents of how work has been, the differences in not only culture but also how things are called, and just his own well being. He did say something short for the elderly couple, but when it came to Y/N he had a lot to say.

These muggles are far different from the ones in England, Blaise. They know things about the magic world but input a fantasy in their heads. They believe they can actually practice witchcraft and wizardry, calling themselves “Wiccan” or whatever rubbish it is. Bloody hell, they even have films and tv programs of them. My neighbor is one of these and she does the most ludacris things in her house. Quite laughable, really. If Salazar was alive today to see this happening, I’d bet he’d curse the whole lot.

She had been lingering in his mind since that day of his discovery. It was annoying him. Every night, he would catch her in her room doing whatever the hell she was doing and he felt as if the universe was mocking him. This is what people think what you really are was the message he got from it all. Draco never thought something like this would make him feel like a freak. But he did. This act of hers was an indirect insult of what he was capable of. And she had no idea.

—

It was a fine autumn morning. The shop was closed today, so you had lots of time at home to catch up with cleaning. You stood over your bathroom sink brushing your teeth and saw from the reflection of your mirror your cat stretching herself before walking into the bathroom to rub herself on your legs. “Good morning, Aurora,” you cooed at her. She purred in response and ran off to her tower in the living room.

After getting changed into some comfortable clothes, you walked up to a closet in the hallway that had collections of crystals, oils, sage bundles and more. “Let’s see, where did I put the angelica root?” you asked out loud to yourself. Going through the shelves, you pulled some sea salt, ground lemon balm, ground angelica root, and a feather. You carried the items outside in a bowl to your backyard and set them at a small garden table. Walking over to your garden, you pulled some elderberry flowers and started your cleansing spell.

You sprinkled the salt onto a censor dish and placed a charcoal dish on it and lit it up. In the bowl you had used to carry the items out, you started mixing the herbs together as you waited for the charcoal to burn red. Once it did, you sprinkled the herbs on top, creating a cleansing incense. You picked it up from the bottom of the censor dish, picked up the feather and made your way steadily to your front door, lightly wafting smoke towards it. Reaching your front door, you drew a pentagram over it with the feather and smoke,

“Be gone negativity,

Here now blessed be.”

You repeat your incantations throughout the house until you have finished and walked back to your living room, drawing one last pentagram. You placed your feather and censor dish on the bare floor, stood up and tapped your foot three times,

“By my will, so shall it be.

Sealed now shall this cleansing be.”

You sat on your couch and turned on the television, waiting for the incense to burn out so you could scatter it around your backyard. After a couple of hours of watching a guilty pleasure of yours, you decided to get some actual cleaning done. First thing was to do some trimming and gardening outside, so you grabbed some gloves and headed out back to your yard.

Before grabbing your garden scissors, you looked up and saw something rather strange. There was an owl in your neighbors yard. In broad daylight. From the backyard, you heard a car pull in and peeked over the fence to see that it was your neighbor coming home. You ran to the front leaving a dirt trail in your house and ran out the front door.

He hadn’t walked in yet, so you started waving your arm, “Hello! I’m Y/N!”

He had just nodded his head and walked a straight line to his door. Not wanting to lose this chance of having a conversation with him, you yelled for him one more time, “There’s an owl in your yard!” His eyes widened and without a word, he ran into his house in a panic. From a distance, you heard him say 'shit' before closing the door.

Building up confidence, you walked up to his door and knocked a few times and patiently waited. You fixed your hair and stood surprised as he hastily opened the door. “H-hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I'm Y/N,” you stretched your hand out to shake his hand. He looked at it and had a displeased look, causing unease within you. Looking at your hand, you noticed you still had your gardening gloves on with dirt on it.

“Oops, sorry!” you chuckled as you took it off and reached out again.

Again, he just looked at you with a straight face for a couple of seconds before finally speaking, “Look, I’m really busy, so if you don't mind.” He shut the door without giving you any chance to say anything back. You stood there in shock, replaying his British voice in your head. And as you stood there, you wondered why it is that he doesn't want to talk to you. The Charles couple across from your house were able to introduce themselves, and even got a smile from him. But for some reason, you could never get the same treatment.

—

Ian had proposed to Draco a housewarming party during lunch. Of course Draco had never been to one, much less hosted one.

“It’s alright, boss. I can fix all the arrangements up. All you gotta do is relax,” Ashley proposed. To say that Draco is extremely happy is an understatement. He had friends that actually enjoyed his company and not his influence. Not that he had much of that anyway.

America was really working out for him; work was great, people were nice, and the area he lived in was peaceful. Yes, he didn't like his neighbor, but she wasn't ruining his life in this new country. He just didn't like what she did.

“Thank you, Ashley. And you know you can just call me ‘Draco’.”

“I know,” she replied. Ashley grabbed her Blackberry phone and started drafting up an email, asking for his address so she could let people know where it would be. “Is this Friday a good time?”

“Yes, that should be fine. I don't have any plans that day.”

“Great, it's sent out to everyone in our department. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an attending to watch over for a surgery. See you guys later!” Draco, Blaine and Ian waved at Ashley as she left.

Blaine left soon after, leaving Ian with Draco. “Alright man, how’s it going on your street? Are you finally settled in?”

“I finally got the last of my things delivered from London yesterday. I was a bit nervous though. That mugg— I mean No-Maj neighbor of mine saw my mum’s owl in my yard. Thankfully, she didn't ask any questions,” Draco said as he cleared his lunch tray.

“Wait, you still use an owl? Ha, I didn’t think people still did,” Ian chuckled. “Well, of course I do. Do you not?”

“No, most wizards here in the States just use the usual ground post that No-Maj’s use. Things are a bit more modern around here. Speaking of your neighbor actually, have you ever spoken to her?”

Draco shrugged nonchalantly and said a simple ‘No’ when he really wanted to scrunch his nose and eyebrows in disgust and say ‘Fuck no.’ Ian, however, is gifted in Legilimens. He heard what Draco really meant but kept to himself. I guess things are different in the UK he thought.

—

“Hello my dear baby, I just wanted to call and give you a heads up; your brother and I are coming for Thanksgiving. He’s bringing Stephanie so do me a favor, please no witchy stuff.”

The voicemail played out loud in the kitchen. Please no witchy stuff. Your mother had repeatedly explained to you that she was okay with ‘it’ all, but growing up you never really got on the same page with her. And you knew it was because of your practice. Your younger brother would say comments every now and then when you grew up, but he always stood up for you when other people called you a ‘satanic freak’. But never once did you regret starting the Craft. You enjoyed it and it made you feel whole.

It had been a week since your encounter with your, now known British, neighbor. It bothered you a lot that he didn’t seem to want to get to know you. You were lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice the doorbell going off. You answered the door and saw your neighbor.

“Hi dear, do you think you could help me and my husband with something?” Mrs. Charles smiled sweetly at you. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“My grandson is coming in from Vermont, would it be alright if you could give us a ride to the airport? I’d ask Draco but he’s always busy at work and I don’t want to be a bother.”

Draco? “I’m sorry, who’s that?” you had a confused look.

“Our new neighbor, dear. I thought you had met him already. You two are the same age after all,” she informed you. Draco. How unique. You instantly recognized the name from the star constellation. It was nice to finally put a name to a face. Distracted again, Mrs. Charles waited for your answer, “Y/N? Can you do it?”

“O-oh, sorry. Of course I’ll help. Frankie was his name, correct?”

“Yes, it’s Frankie. Thank you so much. His flight comes in on Friday. I’ll see you then,” you wished her a good night and looked out your window to make sure she crossed the street safely. The rest of the night consisted of you and and your cat laying on your couch watching TV, but what was on the screen didn’t have your attention. Draco did. And you had no idea why.

—

“Dude, why do you not have a TV?” Blaine looked around Draco’s house and studied the arrangements he had. It was quite plain, almost minimalistic. Looking around, Draco couldn’t help but think how different it was from the Manor back in London. Instead of grand chandeliers, moving portraits of the Malfoy’s before him, and intricate designs on the walls, he had simple white walls with just one moving picture of him, Blaise and Theo a couple minutes before a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. He had a bookshelf full of old school books from Hogwarts and some small relics he liked from the Manor.

“I’ve never had one growing up, and once I moved here I just never gave any second thought of it. Besides, what would I even watch?” Draco replied. Despite having one letter off from being the same name as his best friend, Blaine reminded Draco of Theo. They were both funny and outspoken. He would’ve loved for them to have met. They’d probably get on.

A few moments later, Ashley and Ian knocked on Draco’s door. The door was unlocked for them to be able to open the door. They looked around the living room before settling onto the couches. “Okay so I was thinking that we can just have some trays of snacks and desserts with some champagne. Does that sound good to you guys?” Ashley suggested. They just nodded along to whatever she said. She had gone to the store with Blaine to get everything prepared before the party tonight.

Ian looked at the pictures of Draco with his friends and one of his mother that laid on top of a chimney. “Do you still have lots of friends from Hogwarts?”

Draco thought about it, “You know, I actually didn’t have a lot of friends back in school. Back then, I only hung out with probably six people. But now it’s just two.” He sounded a bit sad, but figured that two were better than none.

“Do you think of what happened a lot?” Ian implied about that day at Hogwarts. He had been the only one that Draco trusted enough to tell. “Sometimes,” Draco gave a short reply. The action of opening up was still new to him, but he knew he shouldn’t wallow in it. Plus he’d rather have a friend instead of a doctor to talk about it.

Ian really felt bad for Draco. It must have been really traumatizing for someone to go through something like that at just the age of 17. Sure, Draco wasn’t the best person at the time. Who is he kidding, he was probably the biggest git in the whole school. It didn’t necessarily mean that he had to go through what he did. He lost one of his friends in a fire, and one left him after said friend died. Another left for no apparent reason. And another wanted something different in her life. Those things affected Draco, and probably will for the rest of his life.

He didn’t pity Draco, but was feeling sympathetic. “Well if it makes you feel any better, I don’t have much friends from Ilvermorny. It sucks now, but hey, down the line you get new ones.” Ian held a fisted hand out, waiting for Draco to bump it. It made him laugh as he bumped Ian’s fist.

Outside, Ian looked out to see a certain neighbor walk to her car. “Hey, is that that chick you were talking about?” Draco looked out the window and saw you grab some things out of your trunk and into your house. “Yeah, that’s her.” Ian never really pressed on Draco to explain why he didn’t like his No-Maj neighbor like he did the elderly couple across the street.

“Well, I gotta say. She’s a sight for sore eyes for a weirdo.” She’s a what? Beyond the nightly activities he had caught you doing on occasion in your bedroom, he never really looked at your face. Or really just at you. But now that Ian mentioned something, he started studying you. She’s not so bad looking— wait, what are you thinking?

By accident, Ian snorted at the words Draco thought. “Did… did I say that out loud?” Draco asked with suspicion in his voice. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t really mean to be invading your mind or anything. It runs in my family,” Ian laughed nervously.

“It’s okay. My godfather was also good at Legilimens and Occlumency. I’m pretty sure he’s heard worse during his classes. Come on, I’ll give you a full tour of the place.”

“If the other rooms are anything like the living room, I’m sure I’ve seen the whole place then,” Ian joked.

“Piss off.” As Ian walked towards the bathroom, Draco looked back outside to see you again. He watched as you helped the Charles couple in your car and drove off to Merlin knows where.

—

The party was rather fun. It lasted until almost 1 in the morning. He thanked Ashley for handling everything and spent the night talking and laughing with his colleagues. Once everyone left, he changed into comfortable sweats and a plain black t-shirt. Out on his bedroom window was Blaise’s owl with a sealed letter. He quickly opened the window, grabbed the letter and looked out to make sure no one was watching. Your room was dark and it seemed as the drapes were down. He guided his friends’ owl with his hands to a small, make-shift owl post against the fence that separated your yards. It had food and was enchanted to be at a comfortable temperature. His owl laid on one side of the post, resting as Blaise’s owl joined it.

Draco opened the letter and read its contents to himself.

Well mate, I’m glad you’re having a good time in America. There’s not much going on here in London. I’m just working at Gringotts until something opens up at the Ministry. Not really sure what I want to do, but I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I think you’ll be pleased to hear that Theo and I are going to be joining you for the holidays. Theo got a hold of a couple American muggle films and he figured that if the women there were as fit as the actresses, then you must be living the best life and he wants to join. As for that muggle neighbor of yours, I can’t wait to see her in person. We’ll see you, Malfoy.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw lights turn on in your room and your shadow walk around before turning off once more. Sorry Blaise, but there’s no way in hell you’ll meet her.

—

Frankie’s flight was delayed, causing you to get home so late. You were extremely tired and your feet and back were sore. Usually, you’d take a bath with some salts and oils to relax yourself, but tonight you were really lazy. So lazy that you just shook your shoes off and plopped yourself on the bed.

The second you hit the mattress, you dozed off. Your mind was wandering and found yourself dreaming.

You sat in your backyard in a pretty sundress. There was a slight breeze in the air and you held a cup of coffee in your hands. Someone sat at the chair opposite you and blocked the sun’s light in your face. You looked next to you and saw your friend smiling at you.

Draco.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x muggle!reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x reader

133 notes · View notes

noaltbruh · 3 years ago

Text

Il mio fato

Chapter two: Benvenuta nella squadra!

Feeling her arms and legs shaking, the newbie desperately hoped for someone to open their mouth to speak, or just... Acknowledge her presence. She didn't dare to look past her feet, her hands glued together like those of a servant. The others exchanged some confused looks, they were used to Bucciarati bringing a new member by now, and it wasn't much of surprise that Giorno would do the same, but this? They were mafiosi, what was a little girl that could barely articulate a phrase without panicking doing among these people? She looked like she couldn't have kept up a fight with a butterfly (Which wasn't false).

While he knew that it was what Eleonora wanted, Giorno refused to interfere immediately. He trusted her, and he was sure that she could keep the situation under control, there was no need to push her any further.

The uncanny silence that seemed to be lasting for an eternity, was finally interrupted by the sound of some of the chairs moving, but she couldn't make out whose they were, exactly. "Fine, if you all are just going to be jerks and not even say hi, I'll handle this" "Trish, what the heck are you doing?!" "What? Can't you see she's terrified? She's one of us now, we gotta make sure she feels at home here!" "You shouldn't trust her in the moment y-" "Ya know what's up? I'm with Trish on this. Come on guys, we were all super awkward when we first met the others, let's give her a little help" Narancia added, as he stood up, and approached the the young girl together with his friend.

"Heya, it's nice to meet you too! My name's Trish Una, even though you've probably already figured it out by now, haven't you?" She began, putting both of her hands on her hips, like she was striking a pose...She always found a way to be 'extra', somehow.

"Sup girl? The name's Narancia Ghirga, but you can call me Narancia, everyone calls me by my first name here" The boy smirked, and accidentally dropped the pencil in his pocket. While he was genuinely curious about meeting her, it was no secret that it was partially an excuse to get distracted a bit from his homework. "Now that I think about it, though...Why do you keep on calling me like this?! I'm almost eighteen! You should bring me more respect"

The girl with pink hair let out a small laugh. "Pffft...Please, I could NEVER call you Ghirga, it sounds too weird!" "Said the person whose surname is Una, is that why you're wearing a skirt with Maths on it?" "Well...I don't tell you to call me by my surname!" "But I'm older than-" "I-I'm sorry to interrupt you b-but...Could you slow down a-a little bit? I...Can't keep up"

Their sudden approach had caused the other to instinctively take a step back, they had gotten so invested in their argument, to almost forget who they were introducing themselves to in the first place.

Trish's smile disappeared for a brief moment, then she continued. "Oh Gosh! No no dear, we should be the ones apologizing, this isn't about us" Narancia crossed his arms, his smug grin had no intention to leave. "Even though...If you're gonna stick around, you better get used to all this noise!"

A similar amount of energy was not something the brunette was used to, she was not prepared to see them getting so close to her out of nowhere; despite this, a little smile formed on her face. While she wasn't good at showing it...Having them so eager to get to know her filled her with joy. With a bit of reluctance, she extended her arm in their direction, fixing her glasses with her other hand. "Thank you for your welcome...I really appreciate your kindness"

Narancia energetically took her hand with both of his, and shook it so hard to make her entire body shake. "It's no big deal! Sorry if I scared ya" "But...Uh...Can I ask you a little favor?" "Mh?" "Can you...Well...Show your face a little more? I can't even see your eyes, besides, I think I'm prettier than the floor!"

As her cheeks turned red for the embarrassment, she raised her head, allowing them to take a better look at her. She didn't like the feeling of their green and purple eyes staring at every centimeter of her body, but she wouldn't even think about letting it show.

"Come on! No need to be all tense and dense, we don't bite" "Narancia's right, how about you sit next to us?" Before even receiving a response, the latter had already picked up a chair from a nearby table, holding it proudly in the air like it was an heavy boulder. The girl timidly approached him, volunteering to carry it, but he declined her help, insisting that he was perfectly fine. "Please...Give it to me, there's no need for you to-" "Nah, I got this, don't cha worry about me" "Are you sure about this? There's barely enough space for you guys already, maybe I-" "Oh please, don't make us beg you! I'm sure we can find a place for you with no big troubles"

Suddenly, Fugo, who wasn't bothering paying attention to "Whatever those two dumbasses were doing", felt Narancia touching his head from behind with the chair. "What the hell do you want now?!" "Move your butt a little, or I can't make this thing fit here" "So what? That's not my problem, put it somewhere el-"

Before he could finish his sentence, something else pushed him aside, almost making him fall from his chair: it was Trish's Spice Girl, who gave a thumbs up to her master before disappearing. "ARE YOU HIGH OR SOMETHING? Why are you so damn excited about this whole thing?!" He said, nervously picking up a wrinkled piece of paper from the table, and scrapping it to smaller pieces, as a way to calm himself. "Why?! Oh...Excuse me, but being surrounded by SIX BOYS gets lame after a while. Thank you, by the way~" Narancia giggled, trying not to let Fugo notice, hearing someone talking back to the blonde like that was satisfying. He put the chair down, and sat once again.

"Cut her some slack, the little girl just wants someone to talk with about all that cheesy stuff" "I'm talking to you as well, Narancia" "Oh? Sorry, I can't hear ya, I'm WAYYYYY too invested in this homework that you've given me" He took the pencil that had rolled under the table after falling from his pocket, then went back to stare at his own piece of paper, having no clue of what to do next with the operations in front of him. Seeing him struggle, Eleonora felt the need to step in, she couldn't stand watching someone having troubles with school work, it was one of the few things she considered herself actually good at. However, her attempt didn't go as she hoped it would have had.

"Uhm...Please, forgive me for interfering, but maybe I could-" "Narancia is ok, he doesn't need your help for something as basic as this, he's not a child"

Fugo brutally cut her off, impeding her from even pointing out a single wrong calculus. She immediately looked away, feeling bad for the older boy, but knowing well that if she insisted, she would have put him in troubles as well. "O-ok...I'm sorry"

Trish, who was sitting on her right, whispered to her ear, making sure that the boy in green couldn't hear her. "Hey, don't let Fugo intimidate you, just let them do their things, don't worry about them for now" "But...Narancia was being so nice to me...I wanted to pay him back" "You'll do it another time, it's better like this, trust me" She sighed, feeling disappointed for not being able to do more. She tried to put that thought aside and focus on the other, eventually managing to distract herself a little.

Giorno sat at the table as well, observing the scene like it was a theatrical spectacle. He couldn't help but smile seeing her already bonding with someone, and in reality, he had already imagined that something similar would have happened, he was very familiar with Trish's discontent about being the only female member of the group. Similar to him, Bucciarati also saw it as an opportunity to analyse the newcomer, seeing her interactions with the others was fundamental in his eyes, he would have had other opportunities to talk to her directly.

Abbacchio was silently sipping some tea, all that noise was hurting his head, and he couldn't stand the thought of 'having to look after another one of those things'.

That damn brat...It was bad enough when Bruno brought here random children from the streets, but this is simply ridiculous. I swear if he wasn't the Boss, I'd-

"Abbacchio, you alright? What are you thinking about?" Mista said, swinging an hand in front of his face, making him snap out of those spiteful thoughts and bringing him back to reality. "None of your business" He simply answered, staring at his half-empty teapot. "Nice as always, I see" "What do you want?" "Are you...Uh...Planning on giving her the 'Giorno treatment'?" "...No, not this time"

At first sight, one would think that the man was the kind of person that wouldn't let nothing nor no one intimidate him, and while that was mostly true, it couldn't always be like this. He knew his limits, his place, and most importantly, he knew better than to directly mess with someone under Giorno's protection. While everyone treated him like a normal member of the team, Abbacchio thought that it was better to play it safe.

"But that doesn't mean that I'm just going to sit here and watch" "Uh? What do you mean?" He put his earphones down, turning in her direction with a killer look.

"Kid, let me ask you something"

His deep voice caught everyone off guard, nobody expected him to speak up out of the blue. Everyone knew the drill about Abbacchio and his behavior towards the 'newest member', but sadly, it was something that you had to endure if you wanted to become a part of them.

The brunette knew about this too, and most importantly, she knew about the way he treated Giorno when he first joined the squad. With a neutral expression, she stared back at him.

"...Yes?" "Why did you come here? What did you expect to find? Are you planning on fighting? Putting your life on the line?"

She hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of how to answer. Was this a test? She had already thought beforehand that he would have tried to put her under pressure, but she assumed that it would have been something a bit more...Explicit. On the other hand, due to her...Ahem...Introduction, perhaps it made more sense like this, he wanted to see if she could talk back to him, she couldn't let them walk all over her.

"That is...Something that I'm willing to do" She replied. The Albino let out a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. " 'Willing to do'? I don't think you understood how things work around here, brat. It's not something 'optional', this is our normality, people respect us, because we make them respect us, because we scare them. But you? You couldn't even scare a child with that baby face. I really hope that you're going to change this behavior of yours, or else...Your little heart might break, both literally and figuratively"

"Abbacchio, I think that's enou-" Bruno tried to interfere, but he was stopped by Giorno, who put an hand on his shoulder. "Bucciarati wait, let's see what happens first, give her the chance to defend herself" He concluded, with a stoic expression.

"My...Little heart?" Eleonora began, moving her bang to the side. "I'm n-not nearly as strong as any of you...Do you think I don't know that? But if Giorno recognised me as a worthy member of the team, it means that I've earned my place here, I think. I'm...D-Disposable, but I want to change, is that good enough for you? She put her right elbow on the table, clenched her hand into a fist and rested her cheek on it. "Sorry if I'm not scary enough to wear dark makeup and clothes at any hour of the day"

The whole table went silent for an entire minute, as the girl with the chemise felt everyone's eyes on her. She hadn't even realized she's talked so much, and that she probably shouldn't have added that last comment. It was a bad habit of her, when she got carried away, she'd end up forgetting to pay attention to what she was saying, without thinking about the words that came out of her mouth.

A small "oof" could be heard coming from Narancia's direction, as Mista and Trish tried to contain their laughter. Bruno's face looked like one of a worried mother after hearing her child swear for the first time, while Fugo just sat there with an expression of slight shock. Giorno was smiling in a smug way, the scene reminded him of how everyone reacted after "his own test".

The most surprising one, however, was Abbacchio's reaction. He didn't look pissed, not in the slightest; he was wearing a provocative smirk, and his arms were crossed.

"Oh yeah? Is the kitty trying to get his claws out? How terrifying...Buona fortuna ragazzina, ne avrai bisogno" He put his earphones back on, acting like nothing had happened.

Narancia patted her on the shoulder, smiling satisfied.

"Dude, what in the world was that?!" "I'm s-sorry...I kinda lost track of my words...A-and-" "Girl, chill a little! We're not mad at ya, he always acts like an a**hole with the newcomers" Trish added, pointing one of her finger in his direction, before winking at her. "And let me say something, you've got some guts talking back to a dude like him in that way" "B-but I..."

Their conversation was cut off by the waiter, obviously looking distressed for having to serve such group of people. "F-Forgive me for interrupting, but would you like me to bring you the bill?" "Yes, thank you" Bruno replied.

After they were done paying for everything, they quickly left the place with the intention of heading back home. Bucciarati loved that restaurant, he had lunch there with his companions almost everyday, but he hated to remain there after he was done eating. He didn't think it was respectful to occupy a sit that he didn't need anymore, while somebody else actually did. What he didn't know, was that no one ever sat at their table, even when they weren't there. It was a silent agreement that it was their place, nobody would even consider "taking it away from them".

"Well...I'd say that this new arrival went surprisingly well. Things are usually a bit more...Lively around here, wouldn't you guys agree?" He commented, opening the front door, as the rest rapidly followed him outside. "I must say that you're right, Bruno, but that doesn't surprise me. Eleonora has always been a calm person, ever since I've known her, her introduction to all of you couldn't have been much different" Giorno responded, when he noticed that the girl was shyly walking at the end of the group, quite far away from him, who was leading the way. "Would you mind walking next to me? I'd prefer to keep you under my watch" He said to her, turning his head a little. "Ah, uhm...Of course! I'm sorry...I thought it was fair for me to stay here behind, since... Well..."

She interrupted the sentence there, realizing that it was probably for the best not to finish it, she didn't want to bring herself down too much in front of the others. She quietly walked up to him, luckily the sidewalk was wide enough for her to move without accidentally bumping into anyone else.

"I'm sorry if I'm stating the obvious but...We're heading to your house, right?" "Precisely, it's not far away from here, we should reach it in a couple of minutes" "I...I see. Uhm...Would it be okay if I went to my hotel after all of you arrive home? I'd like to pick up some of my...Well...Properties" "Of course, but perhaps I should accompany you" "T-there's no need to! I remember the way...I hope"

One could see from miles away that she had no idea of how to go back to that building, but that wasn't the only reason why Giorno didn't want her to go alone. He didn't feel safe letting her wander on her own in a city like this, she still had a lot to learn, and she might have gotten into troubles, people around there...Weren't always honest as they may have seemed at first.

In no time, they reached their destination. The villa that erected in front of her was even more majestic than how she had imagined it in her mind. It was a two-storey house, with white walls and a roof made of glass and wood. It was surrounded by an immense backyard; while it couldn't be seen clearly, the young one could already spot some fruit trees, small flower beds and bushes. A multitude of windows revealed certain areas of the house, but it was almost impossible to see through them, as they were too high for one to reach them. The front door was decorated with some golden and green ornaments, it seemed wide enough to allow two people to pass through it at the same time. Its boundary was defined by a white railing, with some colourful stains of...Something... scattered here and there, they were probably someone's doing.

"Well, here we are" The boy with green eyes commented, tilting his head to look at Eleonora's face. Her expression exuded an aura of wonder and incredulity, her eyes shined brightly with excitement, and a smile was printed on her lips.

"Look at your face, I've never seen you look like this before" His words didn't reach her for how amazed she was, she felt like time had stopped flowing for a few seconds. "So, what do you think?" He put an hand on her shoulder, remembering her of the world around. "I...D-Don't know what to say...It's just...It's so...Breathtaking" "It's alright to be nervous, we all were when we first arrived here. Take your time, I know that a new territory can be threatening"

The girl took a step forward the mansion. "Do you think...I could really belong here?" "You can, and you already do, you don't need to doubt it even for a second"

Seeing such genuine and pure happiness on her face was not something to take for granted, he wanted to cherish it as much as he could.

"Benvenuta nella squadra"

22 notes · View notes

blouisparadise · 4 years ago

Photo

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list.

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

260 notes · View notes

thejilyship · 4 years ago

Text

11. A Step Behind You

Hey everyone! I wanted to post this last week, but I only just got the internet situation figured out, so thank you for your patience! This is the third prompt that I’ve written for Jilytober from my list that you all voted on!

Muggle office romance au

WC: 2.2k

James just wanted to get home before Sirius, Remus and Peter ate all of his mother’s Christmas biscuits.

He had tried to steal a couple before heading into the office, but Mia Potter had insisted that he had to wait until tonight and then kicked him out of the house after she caught him in the kitchen ten minutes later, again, trying to knick a biscuit before he had to go to work.

Also, he was angry that he had to be in the office this close to Christmas in the first place.

He typed away at his computer, wondering why his boss had been so adamant that he wanted James in the office, when he clearly could have finished up these reports at home.

There were a few other people scattered through the office, looking just as miserable as he felt.

He was falling into a hypnotic state, hearing nothing but the sound of the keys at the ticking of the clock. Still thinking about the Christmas biscuits.

And then, out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of red.

His breath hitched and he whipped his head around, spotting her rushing down the hallway.

He didn’t know her name, he only saw her every few weeks, and he’d never been able to work out which department that she worked in. He didn’t want to be a creep either, so he couldn’t try too hard. He had just kept hoping that they would eventually run into one another.

Now, she was carrying a watering can.

And that just felt like the kind of thing he was allowed to follow her down the hallway to ask about.

He jumped up from his chair, work and biscuits pushed from his mind, as he followed after her.

“Excuse me!” He called out, spotting her at the other end of the hallway.

She stopped short, her hair swinging back and forth like a pendulum in her plait. She spun around to face him. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?” He asked, his hand jumping to his hair now that she was looking directly at him. Her eyes were green. He hadn’t noticed that before. They were a brilliant shade of green as well.

She looked down at the watering can and then up at him. “I’m surprised no one else has asked me yet,” She gave him a small smile and his heart skipped in his chest. “I came in to pick up my plants before Christmas break, but then I noticed that almost everyone in my office left plants here, so I thought that I would just water them so they’re not all dead when everyone comes back next week.”

“Oh,” James blinked, not knowing what he had thought her answer was going to be, but the one that she’d given him was just so damn sweet. “Would you like some help?”

She smiled again, dimples forming at the corners of her mouth. “I’d love some help.” Then she waved for him to follow her and turned around, continuing down the hallway.

James jogged after her so he could catch up.

And he found out that she worked on his floor.

For the last few months, all he had to do was follow her down this one hallway and he would have found out that she worked in billing, on the same floor as he did. How had they not ran into one another?

“My name is Lily, by the way.” She said, turning to look over her shoulder as she stepped into the first cubicle in the room and then turned to carefully pour water on a fern on the corner of the desk. “I’m not sure that we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t.” James said, and then he furrowed his brow. Did he say that too quickly? “I’ve seen you around before, but I didn’t know that you worked just down the hall here. My name is James.” He knew that he needn’t have said all of that and he could feel his ears warming.

Luckily, she didn’t notice his embarrassment, because she was now focusing on a second fern on the other side of the desk. “Well, I walk past your office almost every day, so I’ve definitely seen you around before.” She looked up and smiled at him, and then she was off to the next cubicle.

He blinked after her and then followed her again. “What can I do to help?”

Lily shrugged her shoulders. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t get wise on me, but I only have one watering can. I was hoping to keep you around for the company so that I could ask you for a favor in a few minutes.”

James had already been intrigued by this girl but she had him on her rope now. He crossed his arms over his chest. “The company? And what if I have important things I should be doing right now?”

She turned to face him fully, smiling with her dimples again. “Then you probably wouldn’t have offered to help me water plants. Here,” She handed him the watering can and then riffled through the top drawer for a pad of sticky notes and a pen. “Go to the next one, I’ll be right there.”

James didn’t even question why he was listening to her, he just did as he was told. Which, if anyone who knew him could see him just then, they would think that was very strange. James Potter never did something just because he was told to do it.

But now he was watering plants, and Lily was following behind him with the sticky notes and the pen.

“What are you writing?” He asked after the fourth desk.

“Goodbye notes.” She said, drawing a very embellished heart.

“But they won’t see these notes until they see you again. Aren’t we watering the plants because-” He stopped and pushed his glasses up his nose. “You said that you were coming to collect your plants.”

Lily nodded. “I did say that. I got a new job that I started after the new year. My last day was yesterday.”

James frowned and Lily smiled at him.

“This is where most people would congratulate a person.”

“Right,” James nodded, “Right of course, congratulations! Where is your new job?”

“At a primary school a few blocks west of here,” Lily smiled. “I’ve finally gotten my degree finished, so I get to start teaching!”

“In the middle of the year?”

“Yes,” Lily grinned. “One of the teachers went on maternity leave a week ago, so I’ll be taking over her classroom until she gets back.”

“Well that worked out perfectly!” He should have tried to talk to her before today.

“Yes,” Lily was still grinning and James’ heart was still jumping around in his chest. “I’ve actually had a string of good luck lately.”

And now she was about to tell him that she had a boyfriend and demolish his hopes even further.

“Like when you asked me what I was doing. That was lucky.”

James narrowed his brow. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Why was that lucky?”

“Because I’d never had a reason to go into your office, so I’d never had an opportunity to talk to you before. And I’m never going to have a reason to come back into this building, so,” She shrugged and the peeled off the sticky note and stuck it to the pot that James had just watered. “I don’t know, I’ve got nothing to lose here so I might as well be honest, yes? I think you are rather handsome.”

James blinked at her, taken aback at her straightforward comment, but also completely shocked that she had noticed him in the same capacity that he had noticed her.

“Biscuits?” He said stupidly and Lily wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“I- I,” His hand was already buried in his hair at this point and he furrowed his brow. “That isn’t what I meant to say.”

“I thought not,” Lily nodded and then started tapping the pen on her pad of sticky notes. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable-”

“You didn’t.” He said quickly. “I think my brain just- listen,” He dropped his hand from his hair to his side and thens et the watering can down on the desk. “I have obviously noticed you around the office before, and a moment ago I was just kicking myself for never trying to catch you in the hallway.”

She was smiling again, and James took that to be a good sign. “And you said biscuits because…”

“My mum is having a holiday biscuit party tonight. I’ve been thinking about them all day.” He shook his head. “Which sounds dumb, but I’m trying to ask you if you’d like to come with me. Unless that’s a terrible idea. I’m saying it outloud and it sounds like it might be a terrible idea.”

Lily’s smile disappeared. “Is it a terrible idea?”

“I just asked you to come to a family Christmas party for a first date, that definitely sounds like something that will scare you off.”

“But it’s a biscuit party.”

“Yes.”

“I like like biscuits and I’m not afraid of meeting people either. How many biscuits could I eat before people look at me weird?”

James started smiling again. It felt very nice to know that his intuition about this girl had been right. “I mean, so long as we don’t see the biscuits that you eat again, no one is going to look at your weird.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you want to come then?”

“Yes,” Lily nodded, poking his arm with the end of the pen.

“Do you have an ugly Christmas jumper?”

“Of course.” Lily bounced on her heels and James laughed. “I love Christmas parties and it’s been a while so I’m very excited. Let’s finish up here so I can get home and change!”

James laughed again and nodded, “Alright, let’s go.” And he picked up the watering can again and headed to the next desk, now even more anxious to get off work.

He still didn’t think that it was a good idea to bring Lily on a first date where not only Remus and Peter would be, but also Sirius and his mother. It actually seemed like a terrible idea when he remembered that Sirius and his mother would be there. It was almost a guarantee that they would scare her off.

“Are you sure you want to come? I can take you-”

“I’m sure I want to come,” Lily cut him off, peeling off another note and sticking it to another coworkers desk. “The fact that you’re second guessing so much only makes me want to come more.”

“Giving me a hard time already? We haven’t known each other for more than twenty minutes.” James sighed as he moved on to the next plant. “You’re going to fit right in at this party.”

She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling. “I knew I was going to like you.”

“Yeah, well, just remember that when my mum starts asking you how many kids you want.”

She laughed out loud, startling him slightly, but then he was chuckling along with her.

“Six.” She said suddenly, looking back at her sticky notes.

“Six?” James’ eyes widened.

“Four?” Lily offered, looking back up at him. “I’m not entirely sure, but I know it has to be an even number more than two. I was one of two, and my sister and I don’t get along. I think if there were a few more siblings, then we would have had more people to fight with and it would have been spread out more.”

“I was an only child growing up, so my mother will be thrilled with that answer.”

“Excellent.” She poked him with the pen again. “Alright, I think that’s everyone. Can you help me carry my things down to my car? I don’t know how I managed to accumulate so much stuff over the last year.”

“Of course,” James set down the watering can and followed her to a counter on the back wall that had two boxes, one full of plants, the other full of books and trinkets. The contents of either box could comfortably fit into the other. “This isn’t so much.”

“I had a bigger box that I took home with me yesterday.” Lily admitted. “But I uh,” She cocked her head to the side and eyed him before picking up the box with the books in it. “I wanted to make sure that I had enough stuff left here for two boxes so I could ask you for help.”

“You know,” James picked up the box of plants. “For someone who hasn’t had the nerve to just walk into my office and talk to me, you’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Lily laughed, “Yes, well, you’re bringing me home to meet your family. My confidence has been bolstered.”

And as he followed her down to her car, carrying a box of plants that she’d packed separately just so she’d have a reason to talk to him, his heart skipping happily in his chest and his cheeks already sore from all the smiling he’d been doing, he had a feeling that he was stepping into the rest of his life.

Because he was quite certain that there weren't many places that he wouldn’t follow Lily.

#jily #jilytober #muggle au #jily au #office romance au #jilytober 2020 prompts

121 notes · View notes

imaginesandinserts · 4 years ago

Text

Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me

Title: Irreverent Pt. 38 - Miss Me Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 7380

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Working with another team was weird and uncomfortable. You'd never quite realized how many men there were in the Bureau. The BAU had always been almost fifty-fifty so you'd never really felt like the only woman save for the few months JJ and Emily had been away. Even then you'd had Garcia in your ear most times and it wasn't as though Hotch, Derek, Rossi, and Reid had ever once felt threatening or belittled you.

McKinney had put you on a local taskforce for the week while Hotch and the team went off to a case in Nevada. There was an embezzlement ring being conducted out of the back of various DC gentlemen's clubs and you had been asked to tag along and create a profile for the ring leader. From the second you'd arrived at the location where the taskforce members were set up, you'd been questioned at every turn. Every single thing you said, ignored. Every suggestion you made, brushed off. It had been like that all week. The only thing that made it bearable was being able to go home every night and hang out with Jack.

You have to call Mrs. Avery Thursday afternoon and tell her that you won't be making it home in time for dinner. You'd been at work since seven in the morning and all signs pointed to you being able to close in on the suspect. The team had been able to use a paper trail and using the details of the profile you'd created (not that you got any credit for it) had managed to tighten the noose. The arrest was quick but the interrogation lasted till late that night. Every single time you asked to be let into the interrogation room, your request was denied.

By the time you walked through the door, you had been on your feet for hours and couldn't wait to just crawl into bed. The house was dimly lit and you knew Jack would be long asleep. You'd have to apologize to Mrs. Avery for keeping her so late.

"You're home," Aaron's voice startles you as you closed the door. He's sitting on the couch wearing his pajamas, a case file in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other, reading by the single light in the corner of the room.

You can feel the tension leaving your body as he smiles at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Dropping your bag and toeing off your shoes you walk over to him, grabbing both the file and the scotch away and placing them on the coffee table, before climbing into his lap facing him and wrapping yourself around him.

He's a little surprised, but quickly folds his legs up to hold you closer, bringing his arms around you. "Rough week?" he asks his voice low and calm, as you burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

Later, you'd tell him all about the case and Agent Jones being an asshole and how much working without him sucked. Later you'd tell him that you weren't sure about what Jones was going to tell McKinney about your performance and that you're worried. He would remind you that not everyone knew how capable you were and that sometimes you have to get in people's faces a bit, even if they intimidate you. Jones trusted men more than women, but would respect you more if you stood up to him and called him out. He would remind you that you still had the best interview he'd ever seen and ask you where that girl was, the one that had left them all speechless. Later, he'd tell you how proud he was of you for venturing out and doing all of this on your own.

However right then, you only nod, so he lets you be, holding you tighter.

*------------*

You'd become friendly with McKinney's assistant, Gladys Prince, who liked her coffee to be a white mocha, thank you kindly. It was because of her, that the next day you arrived at work wearing a dress, red lips, and five inch heels which resulted in Emily asking if you and Hotch were about to do some boss secretary roleplay after everyone else left. You chose not to dignify that with an answer.

You had a feeling you were about to be pulled into a case today, based on Penelope being in and out of Hotch's office, and that was making you anxious. You were annoying Spencer with how erratically your fingers moved across your keyboard. He glared at you from across the way and opened his mouth to say something snarky, when Hotch called everyone up to be briefed on the case. Crap.

The words "Wheels up in 30" had never annoyed you quite so much. He couldn't have pushed this by an hour? You return to your desk to gather your stuff and you're just about to accept defeat, when there's a voice right next to your ear.

"Hello love."

You have to bite back your smirk before you turn around. "Clyde!" You quickly stand to greet him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You can see the slight surprise on his face as he takes you in, before he greets Reid, Derek, and Emily behind you.

"Clyde," Emily stands to meet him, "what're you doing here?"

"Oh just in the neighborhood. Thought I'd pop by and say hello to my favorite FBI agents," he smirks and winks in your direction, resulting in you giggling and tucking your hair behind your hair.

Derek comes over as well to shake his hand while Spencer waves and walks off to fetch JJ for the drive over to the airport.

"It's a shame you just got here," you say, placing a delicate hand to his arm. "We're about to fly out for a case. How long are you in town for?"

"I'll be here a week. Wrap up quick and let's grab drinks when you're back?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow in your direction.

You smile, biting your lip. "Definitely."

You all said your goodbyes to him and you walked up the stairs to grab Hotch and Rossi for the ride over to the airport.

You're sat next to Hotch in your usual seat as he wraps up the preliminary profile discussion on the plane, when Derek and Emily finally turn to you.

"So, what was that earlier with you and Easter?" Derek asks, with a glance in Hotch's direction as if to gauge whether or not he's listening.

You have to suppress an eyeroll. They'd been so very obvious with their curiosity ever since they'd watched you talking to Clyde. However, you didn't really feel like telling them quite so easily. Sometimes it's fun to keep people guessing. "What do you mean?" you ask, forcing your voice to be as neutral as possible.

"Oh come on, Y/N," Emily says from across you, "what was with the flirting?"

Wow Em, not like my boyfriend is seated right next to me. But sure, call me out for flirting with someone else.

You have to suppress a smirk at that, knowing Aaron's listening now even though his eyes are on the file in his hand. "Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition," you smirk, nudging Aaron with your elbow.

You can feel Aaron's internal groan at you dragging him into it. "Stop."

"What?" you ask him, thoroughly amused.

He looks up then, not at you but at Emily and Derek. "Easter's leading a joint taskforce between Interpol and the Bureau," he explains in his no nonsense voice that no longer works on you. All you have to do is call him Agent Hotchner and it changes instantly into the deeper, darker tone he reserves just for you. "She," he continues, "wants in."

What a spoilsport.

"You're okay with that?" Derek asks him.

You'd talked to him about Easter earlier - of course you had. He'd even helped pick out the outfit. He had been surprisingly alright with the tactic, which you hadn't quite anticipated. If anything you'd expected some sort of weird jealousy when you'd explained that you and Clyde had gotten to know one another during the time he was away. But of course, Aaron Hotchner was above such base emotions such as jealousy.

He has a small smile on his face as he finally looks in your direction. "I don't control her."

Yeah, okay. Tell that to the guy that practically ordered me to join him in the shower this morning.

Emily scoffs as though she doesn't believe that for even a second. "Bet you'd feel different if you'd seen her. Oh Clyde you're here! Of course we should get drinks."

You narrow your eyes at her. "I don't sound like that."

Derek and Emily exchange looks saying that they think you sound exactly like that.

"Is that really how you want to get the spot though?" JJ asks, apparently having been listening the whole time. Why any of you thought plane conversations were private was a mystery.

You look at her, seated across from Rossi, and scoff. "Please, people already think far worse about me. I might as well have it work in my favor for once." Which was definitely true. You'd been in the bathroom the other day and overheard some very defamatory things about yourself and Director McKinney. The man was married. As if! People needed to get lives.

Aaron tenses a bit at that. He knew your relationship becoming public had definitely been harder on you. The rumor mill was constant and even a professional environment like the Bureau wasn't immune to petty gossip.

"Do you think it'll actually work?" Spencer asks, flipping shut his novel. Apparently this was more interesting for everyone, even him.

Before you can respond, however, Rossi decides to put his two cents in. "Of course it'll work. Look at her with the dress and the fuck-me-heels. You really think any man in his right mind would deny her anything?"

You cringe and color at that. Rossi was basically the closest thing to a father figure you had at this point. A Hugh Hefner shaped father figure, sure, but still. The heels weren't even that bad.

"Gee, thanks Rossi."

Aaron shakes his head in disapproval, turning back to his files, indicating to everyone that this conversation was definitely over.

He feels your hand against his arm and he turns to look at your concerned face. Are you okay?

He nods, but still tucks your hand into the crook of his arm before turning back to his files. He was content with the knowledge that the only man who actually got to see you in nothing but the fuck-me-heels was him.

*------------*

Rossi had been right. Who could deny you anything? Clyde had offered you the spot on the taskforce the second you landed back in DC. Which was great, because it had been the only assignment that you'd actually wanted. It employed your language skills, was interesting, and had the exact amount of visibility to help you move ahead afterwards. Plus, it didn't hurt that you felt very comfortable with Clyde despite his flirty attitude.

Once you'd actually gotten the job, you'd immediately told him you were with Hotch. Fortunately, he'd already known from his conversation with McKinney and had chosen you anyways. You could rest assured that he hadn't chosen you just because he thought he had a shot.

You'd spent three weeks away from the team, only flying back midway so you could be there for Jack's school play. You called Jack and Aaron nightly but it wasn't quite the same. Once this taskforce was over, you'd have to find something more local because otherwise, between you and the BAU team's cases, you and Aaron could easily go months without seeing one another and you didn't really like the thought of that. It felt too close to how things had gone bad with him and Haley.

When you landed back in DC, it was early morning but you knew that by the time you got home, Aaron would be at work and Jack at school. Deciding to surprise him and take advantage of having time off from the assignment with Interpol, you walked into work later in the morning.

"Hey, you're here!" Emily gets up to greet you, placing a quick kiss to your cheek, and the first thing you notice is her hair.

"Hey, you got bangs."

Misconstruing the surprised look on your face, she immediately asks, "Is it that bad?"

"No, sorry. Just surprised. It looks really good," you reassure her, reaching out and touching her shorter hair.

"Sugar, you're back!" You hear Penelope come up from behind you, tablet in hand.

"Hi Pen, long time no see." You'd missed her and the two of you had some tv shows to catch up on once you settled in.

"Come along my little defenders of the earth. We have a case," she says, drawing you all upstairs.

You walk into the briefing room and see everyone else already upstairs around the table. You quickly greet everyone hello and take a seat across from Aaron. He's wearing his grey suit that you love on him and the black tie which happens to match the black top you're wearing but you always tell him black is a cop out - and yet it's nice to see that some things don't change. He has a cup of coffee in front of him that you know is his third of the morning.

He smiles, pleasantly surprised, when he sees you. "Welcome back," he says, his voice warm and inviting and everything you'd missed while you were gone. Hearing his voice on the phone really wasn't good enough.

"Hey," you smile back, before noticing the new face at the table seated next to him. "Hi, I don't think we've met."

Aaron turns to the young blonde girl seated to his right, as if he'd forgotten she even existed. "Y/N, this is the new intern, Natalie Scott. Natalie, this is Agent L/N. She's also part of the team but has been away on another consult."

You rise and reach across the table to shake her hand. Natalie was model pretty with her long blonde hair, giant eyes, and sharp cheekbones with a skirt that reached mid thigh. That definitely is not regulation.

After the briefing, you were hoping to sneak a moment alone with Aaron, however Emily and JJ ask you to drive to the airport with them, insisting that they had some major catching up to do. You shoot Aaron an apologetic smile, conveying that you'd catch him later, before following the two of them and Morgan to the parking garage.

"Alright, so catch me up, what's going on?" you ask as Derek pulls out of the garage, expecting some news from Emily on a new guy.

JJ however is the one to speak first. "What'd you think of Natalie?"

You hadn't been expecting that question to say the least, so you simply shrug. "I don't know enough to think one way or the other," you reply, curious as to why she'd even ask.

"You should watch her," Emily says, leaning around from the front seat.

Your brow furrows as you look at her and JJ and then Derek. Derek is firmly keeping his hands on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead as though he wants nothing to do with whatever is going on.

"Why?" you ask, but you already have a bad feeling about this.

You watch as JJ and Emily exchange a look and have a silent fight about which one of them was going to speak. Emily loses, so she turns back to you to reply. "She's a little…friendly with Hotch."

"What do you mean by friendly?" you ask, now completely confused.

Emily and JJ together explain how Natalie would always bring Hotch coffee. How Natalie always sat next to Hotch, how she angled herself towards him all the time. How she'd reach across the table just to make sure that he got an eyeful of her if he looked up. With each example of Natalie's friendliness you can feel your eyebrows rising slightly higher.

You can tell they were looking out for you, however as you pause and really think it through, you realize that you're not overly concerned. It sounded like Natalie had a little crush on Hotch, which can happen of course. Of all people, you could understand someone having a thing for him. As long as she didn't actually act on it, it was harmless.

"I'm sure it's fine, you guys. Thanks for telling me, but I trust Aaron," you tell them.

You know they're not as unconcerned as you are but they let it go as you all pull into the airplane hangar. You grab your bag and climb the steps, eager to sit down next to Aaron and tell him all about your time away (the parts of it that weren't classified at least). When you get on the plane, you see that Aaron was sat in his usual spot across from Rossi. However, your seat is conspicuously occupied by the leggy blonde intern. You catch Emily throwing a look your way as if to say I told you so. Suppressing your eyeroll, you take a seat on the couch next to Derek instead - you didn't want to sit across from Emily and suffer through her looks the entire plane ride.

"His loss," Derek leans in to whisper to you, throwing a quick wink in your direction.

You shake your head, a smile finally breaking out on your face.

It was a relatively short plane ride to Orlando during which the team spoke through the case details and explored the preliminary profile. You found yourself a little distracted by the way Natalie seemed to always lean across Hotch to grab the files from someone, or the way she brought back a water bottle for him when she sauntered her way to the back of the plane. Now, she was asking him if he wanted a snack - apparently he'd love some pretzels if she was going to be grabbing them. You meet Emily's gaze, knowing she also saw that interaction, and you quickly look away, annoyed that you had let their words get to you. Shifting your focus back to the case, you read through the Medical Examiner's report on the two bodies that had been found, in an attempt to avoid staring at the two people who were now sharing a bag of pretzels. Apparently there was a pretzel shortage.

You volunteered yourself and Derek to go talk to the witnesses once you'd landed, knowing Hotch would want to keep Reid for the geographic profile and you didn't want to risk jumping the gun and asking Rossi what was up with Natalie. Emily and JJ were simply out of the question as they kept throwing looks at you, not at all subtly. Derek really was your best option. This way you could spend the majority of the day driving around and not have to watch as Natalie's long and shapely legs strutted around as if she was walking a runway. Who was that tall?

Derek - bless him - had picked up on your mood and very kindly changed the subject to your assignment and how you'd liked Paris. You'd spent a summer in Paris during college so you had spent your time off visiting old haunts and discovering new pastry shops. You'd managed to squeeze in a cooking lesson with a renowned pastry chef known for her pistachio croissants and were planning on making them when you return for the whole team. Derek was definitely excited about that.

The two of you had called in your findings throughout the day and met up with the rest of the team at the hotel lobby in the evening. You walk in to find everyone congregated together while Hotch is on a call. It looked like Natalie had been sent to fetch the room keys as you could see her speaking with the front clerk.

"I can't wait to take a shower. What's taking so long?" JJ was standing, leaning against Emily, the two of them looking worse for wear.

"What happened to you two?" Derek asks, handing you your bag that he'd carried over from the parking garage.

The two of them glance at one another and you can tell that whatever happened had to be embarrassing for at least one of them. JJ is the one to explain how they'd had to literally chase down a lead through downtown and that Emily had ended up tripping down a fire escape and falling into a compost dumpster. It seemed she hadn't taken well to JJ's teasing, as JJ was just as trash-covered and smelly as her. Your face scrunches up as you get a waft, and you quickly shift to stand across instead of next to them.

It appeared that Hotch had finished up his call as he was walking towards you, when he's intercepted by Natalie. "Sir, it seems the hotel booked us one room short and they're all out of extra space. But it should be fine. I won't mind sharing with you, if that's alright."

You are so incredibly grateful that you'd turned away from them and had only heard what she said to him. Your eyebrows are fully in your hairline and your jaw drops open. Both JJ and Emily's faces are a mirror of yours. You have to really force yourself to not turn around and react impulsively - telling her to go back to Whoresville would probably be crossing a giant professional boundary. However you might be warranted because who else would proposition their boss in that manner? If she'd wanted to simply be helpful and accommodating, why not offer to bunk with one of the girls? Her voice had been far too sultry to be even remotely professional. Your teeth are quite literally biting into your tongue and you know that you'll have angry crescent shaped marks in your palms from how tightly clenched your fists have become. The sheer audacity!

"Ms. Scott," Hotch's voice is cool, professional, detached, "will you please step aside with me for a moment?"

You can hear the sound of her heels against the marble floor as her and Hotch walk slightly away from the rest of the group. Everyone is quiet and they're either watching you or Hotch and Natalie's interaction, which you refuse to turn and be a spectator to. It felt like giving away some power, for her to see you watching her in this moment. It was better to be entirely disengaged. You quickly schooled your face and relaxed your posture into one of unbothered indifference. They might all see through it, but so what? At least a stranger wouldn't be able to read what had happened just by the expression on your face.

"Here are everyone's room keys." Hotch arrives back with Natalie trudging behind him, and hands out keys to everyone but you. He has the key to your room in his hand. You don't look in Natalie's direction as you square your shoulders and follow Hotch's long strides down the hallway to your room. He'd kept the first floor one for the two of you, making it an easy central location for the rest of the team if need be.

"You can take first shower," you tell him, as he opens the door to your room and lets you in. They're the first words you've spoken directly to him that haven't been about the case since the briefing that morning. You can hear the slight edge in your tone and you know he can tell something is off as well.

Hotch only nods at you, before setting his bag down and heading off to the bathroom. As you hear the sound of the shower turning on, you force yourself to breathe in and out to help relax your mind and body. You're upset. You know you are. You're not sure how you feel about Natalie at the moment, aside from thinking her to be incredibly unprofessional. However you are still upset, and you come to the realization that its Hotch whom you're upset with. Hotch who had spent the past three weeks ignoring the signs of this girl's crush until it culminated in him being literally asked to bed her. Did he really ignore it though? Or did he enjoy the attention? Attention he wasn't getting from you, that's for sure. Hard to give your boyfriend attention when you're working in an entirely different country…

Aaron had watched you all day - from the moment you'd shown up back at work till the second you'd walked through the hotel room ahead of him. When you'd arrived that morning you'd been happy, cheerful, the promise of things to share radiating behind your gaze. He'd been happily surprised that you'd landed back ahead of schedule and even decided to hop onto the case with them. It would be nice to have you back - he'd spent the past three weeks really coming to terms with the fact that you were not on the team anymore. Sure you helped when you're around but he knew that if you got pulled into your other assignment, that would take precedence now. He didn't begrudge you that, despite how much both him and Jack missed you while you were away.

However, on the plane, you'd barely looked his way. Of course the intern girl had taken the seat next to him, and he couldn't be rude and ask his twenty one year old new employee to go sit somewhere else. Once you'd all landed, instead of sticking around the precinct you'd been away all day and he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Something had happened between the time the team had received the case and the plane ride to Florida and he couldn't possibly imagine what.

Then, of course, the intern had stepped out of line. She'd asked him to share a hotel room with her as though he wasn't her superior and it wouldn't be entirely inappropriate. Though, he had to admit, based on her body language she wouldn't mind him being inappropriate with her. He had had her step aside and explained to her that the hotel hadn't been one room short - that you and him were in a relationship and would be sharing. That what she'd said was inappropriate, however he would ignore it and pretend it didn't happen. The girl had been barely apologetic, not meeting his eyes. Instead, she had looked over at the group - at you - as though you had personally wronged her. There wasn't much to be done about that. If she continued to be this way, he'd have to ask Strauss to place her on a different team.

However, it was really you who his mind was invaded by as the two of you walked down the hallway and to the room. He hadn't had you to himself all day and he was looking forward to catching up, saying hello properly. However, the edge in your voice when you spoke gave him pause. Something was still wrong and he couldn't for the life of him imagine what it could be. Maybe something was going on with JJ or Prentiss. They had wanted to talk to you about something urgently after all.

He'd gone to take a shower, hoping that maybe all you needed was a moment to yourself, however when he exited you'd quickly brushed by him and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. He changed and got into bed, carrying the files from his bag with him. He'd made it through a reread of the Medical Examiner's report when you exited the bathroom, your towel wrapped around you. He watched, a little apprehensively, as you pulled out clothes from your bag and then unwrapped the towel from around you. Your skin was pinked all over from how much you'd scrubbed it, your hair still dripping wet. He found his eyes watching a single drop of water as it fell from your hair, trailed its way down the side of your neck, over the swell of your breasts, only to be covered by the little blush nightie that you slipped on. He hadn't seen you in three weeks and he could feel himself get uncomfortably aroused as his eyes followed the sway of your hips when you went to grab a bottle of water and then pushed yourself up onto the desk, facing him. Your face was composed as you took a small sip, your eyes unwavering in their appraisal of him.

"How long has she been flirting with you?" you finally ask, setting down the bottle of water and looking directly at him.

Aaron's face betrays his puzzlement at the question. You were undoubtedly asking about the intern but he couldn't imagine why that would even matter. "A while," he answers hesitantly. Were you jealous? He couldn't imagine that to be the case - not with you and especially not over the intern.

"Why did you let it go on for so long?" Your words are accusing and yet your voice doesn't change from its even cadence.

He's unsure of what to say and ends up blurting out the first words that come to mind. "Are you jealous?" He immediately regrets even voicing the thought as your eyes flash with the promise of a reckoning.

"No. I'm upset." You take a small leap down from the desk and walk over to him, standing at the edge of the bed. "I am upset, because instead of shutting her down immediately when you noticed her behavior, you allowed it to continue to the point at which she quite literally asked you to fuck her in front of the entire team." Your voice trembles ever so slightly and your jaw is locked into place. "She must have been given quite some leeway if she felt it was alright to do that."

Aaron's not sure what to say. He had let it go on too long, but it wasn't because he enjoyed the attention. He had never been on the receiving end of such blatant advances from a relative stranger and he'd felt uncomfortable assuming anything untoward, even though he'd known. How could he not? The intern was utterly transparent.

He's quiet for a moment as he watches your hands start to fidget with the fabric of your nightgown. Had he known how upset you'd be by this, he'd have shut her down immediately. He could hear the hurt in your voice and understood the betrayal you must have felt, thinking he was somehow enjoying the attention of some young girl. That was hardly the case.

However, before he can reassure you of this, he sees you place a knee on the bed and quickly straddle him, hands on his shoulders for support. He conceals his surprise incredibly poorly. He's half hard and he knows you felt him as your eyes lock on his and you grind yourself against him torturously teasing him. Your lips meet his in a bruising, punishing kiss, teeth biting his lower lip and drawing open a moan, making way for your tongue to harshly explore him.

He instinctively moves his hands to your waist to draw you in closer, and that's when you finally move away, your eyes swirling with fury, hurt, and something else that makes a knot start to coil in his stomach.

"No." You reach down and move his hands away from your waist and up towards the headboard. "You obviously didn't miss me. You don't get to touch."

How could you possibly think he hadn't missed you? He was half hard from just a look at you. He opens his mouth to contradict you, but you cover his mouth with yours again, drawing a groan from him. Pulling back, you fix him with a firm gaze. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, either."

Aaron is now impossibly hard, his pants tenting uncomfortably as his hips rut up into you. He nods, agreeing to follow your rules - for now at least. He tries to keep his hands away, focusing instead on the pleasant weight of you on top of him. The way your breasts press against him and the way the silk of your nightie feels against his stomach, causing a flurry of butterflies to explode there. Your touch tonight had been sharp, demanding, focused only on getting to whatever end you have in mind.

Your lips trailed down from his lips to his neck, biting and sucking in a way that tests every amount of self control he has. He knows you're leaving marks and is grateful that you still have the presence of mind to focus your attention to parts of him that will be covered by his shirt collar. Your hands brush his arms, his chest, his stomach - causing every muscle to tense and flex under your agonizing touch. You're slow and deliberate with your attentions, as if each kiss, each lick, each bite is designed to drive him insane.

Your hands reach the top of his waistband and he tilts up, helping you push the garment down his hips, revealing his weeping cock at full mast. You don't give him a moment's respite as you move to position yourself over him, using his shoulders as leverage. You lower yourself on him excruciatingly slow - the warm, wet, velvety feel of you encompassing him entirely. He groans, loud and deep, unable to contain himself, as you bottom out completely. You hadn't been as wet as usual and he can tell the stretch is just this side of painful for you from the wince on your face as you settle onto his lap and the way your short nails dig into his skin.

He looks down and sees how your nightgown flows around your hips, draping over his lap and covering where the two of you are connected in a manner he finds incredibly erotic. He finds himself focusing on the movement of the fabric as you push yourself up, your lips attaching themselves to a spot right on his collarbone. The need to touch you is overwhelming and he finds himself forming fists with his hands, his nails making crescent shaped marks in the skin of his palms, to keep himself from reaching out.

You're breathing heavily against his ear as you ride him and he can tell you're stifling every natural sound that's begging to be released. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction. You were only interested in chasing yours.

It won't be long for him now, not with how tight you are and how your walls have fluttered around him every time. He can feel your growing need based on the pace you're setting for yourself - you're furiously chasing your high and he can tell you won't reach it. Not without some help.

He surprises you by grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. There are unshed tears in your eyes and the frustration is clear in your face. You open your mouth to say something - likely to tell him off for touching you. He doesn't care anymore. Fuck the rules.

"Sweetheart, let me help, please." His voice is unbearably gentle as he speaks, his hand warm against your cheek. But no. He didn't get to do this. He didn't get to - the thought dies in your head as he kisses you - soft, gentle - a complete contrast to how you'd started the night.

You pull away, still determined to simply use him. Punish him by not letting him touch you.

He can feel the fight in your body and see the stubbornness in your posture. But he couldn't let you not finish. Not when he was so achingly close. Not when it was so desperately what you wanted. So Aaron decides to try something he never has before.

"Sweetheart, let Daddy help you."

The result is instantaneous. You still entirely. Your breath stutters. He feels your hands tremble against him. Your eyes - your eyes widen and look at him. You blink and for a second he has no idea what you're thinking. Then they open agonizingly slowly and he can see that your warm, welcoming eyes are entirely glazed over. Gone are the unshed tears, replaced by something that seems entirely, wantonly, lost.

"Daddy's going to take care of you," he repeats himself, moving his hands to circle your waist. There's no fight, no resistance. He lifts you easily and lays you down on the bed, before rolling over on top and positioning himself at your entrance. You look so pretty - soft and small under him - your eyes trained only on him and your pink lips forming a small circle. His mouth meets yours as he pushes in, drawing the first audible moan from you all night. It is like music to his ears. He reaches down on the right and finds your thigh, grabbing it to wrap around him. You instinctively mirror yourself on the other, both legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he thrusts into you.

"You take me so well, sweetheart. So good for me." His voice is like syrup, sweetly dripping down through you.

His hand reaches between your bodies and finds your clit, his thumb circling it and drawing sounds from you that he'd only had in his dreams the past three weeks.

"Such a good girl."

His other hand finds your breasts, working your nipples into tight peaks, pointing through the silk of your clothing. He can't help himself from taking one into his mouth, the fabric cool against his tongue as he licks and bites you through it. He sees your eyes roll backwards before your head tilts away from him.

You're entirely mindless, floating on a cloud ever since Aaron took control. The drag of him inside you is painfully euphoric. Every touch ignites a fire and you can feel your orgasm growing - a crescendo in your body that completely takes over as your toes curl and your back arches, pushing your breasts even more into his mouth.

You're far too sensitive as your arms cling to him, every nerve entirely aflame as he finishes within you not a moment later. His hand never lets up against your clit and as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, even through his own orgasm, you feel yourself clench once again, overwhelmed by him. Owned by him.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pleasant and welcome against your boneless body. You can feel his seed spilling out of you and you can only guess at how entirely depraved you must look. He slowly rolls off of you, pulling you with him.

Later, when you're both clean and tucked back into bed, his hands playing with your hair and your legs entangled with his, he asks softly, "Was that alright?"

You can feel his hesitancy and uncertainty, and you have to keep yourself from falling asleep against his warmth. You want to be honest with him. "It was," you say slowly. "I'm not sure if I'll ever say it, but I didn't mind you saying it." Actually saying it felt too close to admitting the very real trauma from your father's reign of terror.

He nods understandingly.

"You know that the intern doesn't mean anything, right?" he confirms. You should know that. He knows you know that.

"I do. I just, got scared for a minute. Being away is harder than I thought it would be," you admit.

He hums, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. The two of you fell asleep properly for the first time in days.

The next morning, Aaron was on a phone call with the local lead detective when you finished getting ready, so you indicated that you were headed to the breakfast bar, hoping to secure coffees and a muffin for you both. He nods and waves you off, knowing you'll fight off whomever to secure the last blueberry muffin for him.

You quickly grab two coffees and the last two blueberry muffins, before making your way to the table where the rest of the team - save for Rossi and the intern - were already sat.

"Someone had a good night." Only Emily could see through the layers of concealer on your neck.

You shake your head disapprovingly, but the large smile on your face gives you away, as both JJ and Derek join Emily in her teasing. Even Spencer joins in, if only for a moment.

You all quiet down quickly, however, as you see the intern approaching. You'd already resolved to be nothing but polite to her. She hadn't known you and Aaron were together - the two of you were relatively lowkey about the entire thing. Maybe her approach had worked for her before.

That resolve quickly crumbles as she comes to speak to you, however.

"You're not better than me, you know," Natalie spits out as she stands across from you on the other side of the table.

You have to force yourself to stay calm and not react, however your lack of an immediate reaction appears to encourage her.

"You were just like me - trying to sleep with the boss. So you don't get to sit there and think you're somehow better."

You could tell she'd spent the night researching you and Aaron - digging up any and all dirt she could on the two of you and your relationship. You look at her and there is a part of you that wants to be upset and go off on her - really put her in her place. However, you'd once been her age and in a place where you thought that was the only way to move ahead. While that might work sometimes, it had to come with boundaries. She'd crossed them.

You let out a deep breathe, knowing that the rest of them are just itching to take her down a peg but they know you'd prefer to fight your own battles.

"Natalie, you're young and impulsive. What you did yesterday was stupid. No man is worth ruining your reputation over - especially not a man who's a stranger to you."

She's quiet, surprised by what you've said and the lack of swearing and name calling involved.

"Yesterday you propositioned your boss in front of people who will all one day soon be running the Bureau. You will need their help and their support in moving ahead. In their eyes, you are the intern who asked her boss to sleep with her in front of witnesses. What exactly do you think they think of you?"

You see her shrivel at your words, her posture slacking as the truth of what you're saying resonates with her.

"Now," you continue, "I will do my best to forget everything that transpired here. The day you knock on my door, it will be as though it never happened. However, I can't make promises for anyone else."

With that, you've spotted Aaron walking over, so you quickly rise and grab your drinks and muffins to meet him halfway.

Aaron sees you walk over, and takes in the quiet at the team table. The intern was standing incredibly still. He sees the her walk off to grab coffee and the team return to normal. He had a feeling Natalie Scott would have to go. He'd give her a good recommendation to any other team, but he could tell - especially going off of the daggers Prentiss was glaring in the young girl's direction - that this wasn't quite the right fit for her.

You approached him, blueberry muffin successfully in hand, your face glowing. Taking the muffin and coffee from you, he presses a quick kiss to your hairline, warmth blooming in his chest.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #daddy hotch #irreverentseries

106 notes · View notes

secretkeeper13 · 4 years ago

Text

Match

Last month, a sweet guy named Craig popped into my head, and I wrote my first OC outside POV Hinny fic. I was blown away by the positive response to Craig, and decided to keep writing the rest of his story. It turned out a bit longer than I’d planned, but I hope it makes someone smile. There’s a Hinny appearance, of course. You’ll need to read Flirt first, otherwise, you won’t get the jokes.

This one is for everyone who asked for a happy ending for Craig- especially @constancezin! Full fic is on Ao3, but a teaser is below.

“Oi, mate!” Will called. “You ever coming out of the loo? You’re taking longer than a bird to get ready, and I need to piss!”

Craig sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be out in a mo’!”

He checked his reflection in the mirror one last time. He thought he’d managed to get his hair like how Cressida liked it, with the sandy, light brown strands slightly ruffled, but not too messy. He hoped the blue button down shirt he’d chosen looked smart. Figuring this was as good as he could look, he opened the door. Will was leaning against the opposite wall, drumming his fingers on the plaster.

“Finally,” Will groaned, pushing past him to enter the loo, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“All ready for the big date Craigey?” Will teased from the other side of the door. “Did you get your hair just so? How many outfits did you try on ‘til you found the one?”

“Fuck you,” Craig called back, as Will laughed. “And you know full well I’ve been on dates with her since she’s been back, you just want to take the mick.”

“Course I do,” he said, in his easy, teasing tone. “But this is a big one and you know it. Dinner with her boss and all. You’re getting closer, mate.”

Craig heard the rush of the faucet, and Will emerged from the loo.

“Come on, let’s have a drink before you go.”

“No way! I’m not going to fuck this up because I let you get me pissed.”

Will laughed again and clapped him on the back. “Aww, come off it. One drink. I’m doing you a favor- you need it for your nerves, I can tell.”

“All right,” Craig sighed, realizing Will had a point. He was nervous, after all, and a drink would take the edge off.

He flopped onto the sofa as Will summoned two glasses and a bottle of Ogden’s with a flick of his wand. With another flick, the bottle poured two glasses, the warm, amber liquid glowing in the lamp light.

“To Cressida finally letting you back in her pants tonight,” Will toasted with a roguish grin.

Craig rolled his eyes, but raised his glass. He took a sip, savoring the pleasant burn from the firewhisky. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he tried not to think about the stakes tonight. In the little over four months since Cressida came back from Egypt, things had progressed agonizingly slowly. He’d asked her out the first week she was back, of course, and she’d agreed to the date. But instead of ending the evening in his arms, she’d told him that she didn’t want to get back together straight away because she wanted to be able to devote all her attention to getting sorted in her new position at work.

In retrospect, he wasn’t surprised. Cressida was a bit of a perfectionist, the hardest worker in their year, with the marks to show for it. She’d been hired by Gringotts straight out of school as a curse breaker, and everyone knew they only took the best. And he loved that about her- that she was relentless, never settling until she reached her goal. Still, he’d been a bit disappointed that she’d wanted to wait.

It could be worse though. They’d still been seeing each other regularly, often spending Saturday nights at the Leaky with a group of their friends, and occasionally, they’d go out alone, talking and laughing the entire time, like they were back at Hogwarts. But the nights would end with a chaste kiss and nothing more, Cress firm in her rule that they not be together until she was sorted at work.

Last month, around the holidays, he could feel her start to relax. Her probationary period at work ended as of the new year, and naturally, she’d nothing to worry about, he thought proudly. On the first day back from the holiday, when she’d had her review, her boss had given her glowing remarks, and he’d invited her to dinner at his home that weekend, telling her to bring someone, if she liked. And she’d asked him to go with her. Craig couldn’t help but hope that if tonight went well, they’d be back together, officially, and finally get back to shagging.

“Oi,” Will said, snapping his fingers, jolting Craig from his thoughts.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he smiled sheepishly.

Will laughed. “Thinking about how the night could end, eh?” he said, waggling his eyebrow.

“Don’t jinx it, mate. I’ve got to make it through dinner with her boss without making a fool of myself first.”

“Aw, you’ll be alright. I mean, it isn’t like her boss is Harry Potter,” Will said cheekily, and then burst into laughter.

Craig glared at him. “Really? Will you never let me forget that day?”

“Never,” Will said solemnly, raising his hand as if taking an oath, then lowering it. “How often does your best mate try to chat up Harry Potter’s wife at the pub without realizing it?” Will’s straight face wavered as his shoulders shook.

Craig shook his head, trying to erase the mortifying memory of that disastrous afternoon a year ago with Ginny Potter from his mind, but it was no use. “Well, take the mick out of me all you want just-“

“Never tell Cressida,” Will mimicked, finishing the sentence. “Come off it, none of us have ever told her, or anyone else for that matter, you know that.”

Craig nodded, taking a gulp from his glass, still trying to forget that day. His friends were unfailingly loyal, he’d give them that, though they still teased him mercilessly about it when they were alone.

“Well, Cress likes her boss, at least. From what little she’s told me, he’s a nice bloke.”

“See, it’ll be alright then,” Will said, taking another sip. “Tonight’s the night, mate. Thought it was going to happen on New Years, actually. We all saw the pair of you snogging.”

Craig’s cheeks flushed recalling the taste of champagne and the feel of Cressida’s hands in his hair as his gentlemanly kiss at midnight quickly turned into something more. Just get through dinner, he thought. If things went well, he had a feeling he’d be spending the night at hers tonight.

He drained the rest of his glass in one sip, and stood. The firewhisky had settled his nerves a bit.

“I’ve got to meet her now.”

Will rose and clapped him on the back. “Go get her, mate.”

Craig put on his coat and grabbed his wand from the side table. “See you later!” he called as he walked out the door.

“I hope not!” Will called back.

Read the rest here- its too long for Tumblr ;)

#hinny fanfic #fluff #hinny fluff #poor craig #a little cringe #a little sweet

37 notes · View notes

fijiangecko · 4 years ago

Text

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 6 - Search and Rescue

previous | next

Read it on AO3 here

A/N: school is over (thank god)

~~~~~~

You stood in that doorway for God knows how long. Shivers traveled down your spine when Kuroo slammed that damned door, and slowly the static built over your frozen muscles. How could you let this happen? He’s right, you could’ve just told them and maybe things would’ve been different. If you really did trust them like you claimed, why didn’t you just admit to everyone and ask for guidance?

Your instincts kicked in. For a long while, you pushed them back and remained the new person you so desperately wanted to keep around. You knew, somewhere deep down, that if you went back to your old self, that would be the only thing they would talk about. That being said, you weren’t going to back down from a challenge or downplay your strengths, but that killer instinct that those bastards drilled into your head needed to take the back burner for a couple of years.

Too bad you pushed your luck and now it was all boiling over.

Your attention was brought back to that pot, and finally when those reactions kick back in your legs carry you across the apartment. Only grab what’s necessary, burn the rest and get the fuck out. Easy enough, considering you always knew something like this might happen. Just like back in the office, you didn’t own much. It was easy to only have a large duffle bag worth of stuff, clothes and sentimental items mostly.

You made a decision when you first left the Port Mafia to keep other things, clues one might say, as to your involvement with them in a separate location. Weapons too; you never knew when you were gonna need some extra firepower.

Anything else in the apartment that you knew could be used for evidence or could lead anyone back to the office you burned with your belongings. Better to be safe than sorry.

It doesn’t matter if he tells them, you think as you hoist the materials into the metal garbage bin in the parking lot. You’d be gone within the hour because either the Mafia is on their way, or Tooru and Hajmie will stop by in the morning. All you wanted was to protect them.

You patched the back windshield up with a bit of duct tape and a trash bag in the meantime. At least it would keep the cops from pulling you over while you headed over to the shop. Glass shards still litter the back seat, but you could care less as you set the duffle in the passenger's seat and start the engine.

With one last glance, you look to your apartment, the nearby trash can as flames lick the edges of the metal. All of your work suits were in there. All the funky ties Bokuto had given to you as jokes every year at the Christmas parties; all of the pens Akaashi and Kenma had lent you; all of the files Oikawa and Iwaizumi had forgotten at your place over the years; all the little sticky notes Kuroo left on your keyboard-

A tear hits your cheek. It’s a shock to your system and it brings you back to the present. You quickly wipe it off and swing the car out of its spot and head off.

A plan bubbles in the back of your mind. A way to keep everyone out of danger and clear your involvement. You think of the countless possibilities and endings this could have as your drive down the streets. The trees get denser and the sunlight shines through them like ribbons as you speed down the highway, only thinking of how to survive.

The first thing you’d like to do is to fix the damn windshield. Off the top of your head, you can think of a few people that might be able to help you out, just some local shops that still owed you back when you did people “favors” and that sort of thing. Again, not your brightest moments but they were your moments nonetheless.

Memories flood your system of those times. Back when you practically had the whole mafia under you. Every goon, henchmen and officer looked down when you walked down a corridor. Only those on an equal footing or on your personal squad would even bother trying to talk with you.

Not that you were authoritative or anything. Far from it, actually. Out of all of the four executives, you were the most forgiving, the most human. But it was the fact that you were an executive; the shared second in command position for all of the Port Mafia. With a brain and a gift like yours, it was an obvious choice but called for you to make a lot of tough decisions.

“Y/N,” Ushijima greeted you with a bow, and once he stood to his full height he stared directly into your eyes. The vertical distance was pretty large at the time, considering this was almost seven years ago. You remember looking up at him and feeling nothing despite his size and stature. Slightly behind him on the left stood a man, almost equally as tall with bright red hair.

“Hello boys,” a coy smile tugged at the edge of your lips. You used to be so full of yourself, and you roll your eyes at the thought. You were not only the youngest mafia member to become an executive, but also the first female to achieve the position despite who the boss was. Is? Hell if you knew whether that old bat is still kicking it.

Tendou had the tendency to lean over Ushijima’s shoulder and look down on you, almost like you were an animal in a zoo, but you got along with him just fine otherwise. Whenever you guys were in the same room you’d joke around, try and get on Ushi’s nerves but nothing ever seemed to work. On occasion he’d try and get you both to meet up for dinner but you’d always end up busy with meetings.

You saw him as a friend. Someone to kill the time with. Not much else, but you always saw the small shimmer in his eyes when he’d try and make those dinner plans. You felt in your gut that a question might pop up one of those nights if you sat down in a fancy restaurant with him.

“I don’t think Washijo is gonna appreciate you doing all of those construction deals in the southwest.” The redhead sang to you in a tune that was unrecognizable.

“Why wouldn’t he? It’s only making us more money and I did it ‘legally’ this time.” Unfazed by his teasing, you continued into the meeting room and took your place on the left side, by the head of the long conference table.

Ushijima followed opposite of you, taking up the chair directly across from you on the right. The spaces next to either of you that follow down the long edge of the hardwood were left empty, and your respective teams filled in the chairs after that point.

Everyone was dressed up, black and white attire. You always opted for a pantsuit rather than a dress or skirt purely because the port brought in the seaside winds and you’d rather not flash anyone. Oikawa, Iwaizumi and two others sit in their suits further down the table, hands folded and placed atop the table. They made small chit chat with the other squads, Oikawa smiled and bantered while Iwa usually just sat and listened.

They were members of your personal squad almost the entire time you held the title of “executive”.Them and the two others that sat next to them, Matsukawa and Hanamaki. You kept your personal group small since you’d be around them constantly. Those four were always funny together, always made things lighthearted despite the horrid situations you found yourselves in.

“She’s right Tendou,” Ushijima’s voice could’ve rattled the whole building if he spoke louder. “Out of us four she’s pulled in the most territory and revenue over the last quarter.”

“That’s because she's not doing the best in one category Washijo will strip her title, no questions asked.” Oikawa whispered to Iwa, very cautious of who might hear him. From what you can remember, a fair amount of the members weren’t as progressive as you had hoped when you first joined, but it didn’t stop you from climbing the ranks.

Your thumb beats against the steering wheel at the memories. Were you really happy then? Were you really doing what you wanted?

It’s taken you years to find the answer, but you’ve concluded that both are no. You hated working for them. You hated the senseless murder, especially if it was for a bullshit excuse like “it’s all for a better Yokohama”. To hell with it all, you’d tell yourself after spending nights hiding in homes that were starting to fall apart. For half a year you lived as though the modern world didn’t exist, all by yourself. You would only go into town to buy groceries or if it was absolutely necessary.

It was a sad life, but it was better than living in a high-rise apartment where goons would pretend to be buddy-buddy with you just to up their rank. It was better than pretending to care what that old fool had to say about your operating style and the fact you didn’t do anything “by the book”.

Your thumb stops drumming a while ago and your fists tighten around the wheel, knuckles turning red and white as you press your skin firmly into the rubber. The morning rays dissipated a while ago as well, the sun fully shining her light down on the city. The further you drive, the more recognizable the area becomes. Dreary, dark streets turn into buildings and stores with an even darker past. Your stomach churns with every old memory seeping back into your brain, only the faces of the agency members keep you going as you pull into an all too familiar lot.

Iwaizumi’s hands run through his dark hair, gripping the strands and pulling them as he looks at the disaster around him. Chairs broken into pieces, glass shards all across the floors, papers littering every nook and cranny of your apartment. Nothing was salvageable. Anything you had bought was destroyed either by your own hands or someone else's.

Oikawa dug through the cabinets and drawers to find anything that could be an affirmative that this was the Port Mafia’s doing, or at least give them an idea of who it could’ve been. The dumpster fire outside was obviously your doing, either of the boys recognized that in an instant considering it was all of your clothes and it was practically only embers by the time they had gotten there.

Hajime’s heart is pounding heavily in his chest. He was the one who protected the ones he cared about. That was his gift and his duty to you all, and he failed miserably at it since you’re gone and now everything is on fire (literally and figuratively).

“They left the stamp!” Tooru stumbles over bits and pieces of debris as he rushes to show Hajime the small insignia that was left on a scrap of paper. The Port Mafia always left them at raids so either rival gangs or the police knew exactly who beat them to it.

Iwaizumi snaps out of his little trance, the iron grip on his hair loosens enough for his hands to run down the back of his head to the base of his neck. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, but it narrowed down some of their options.

He grasps the small paper and double checks it to make sure every design detail was exactly the same, that this wasn’t a dupe or some imposters work. Tooru watches with careful eyes as Iwa mimics his exact same actions from just moments ago.

Kuroo walks up to the complex, hands in his pockets and head hung low. After being told off by Takeda, he was instructed to go help look for you. Since you’re all still on a case together, and “regardless of personal affairs”, you were all assigned to this case for a reason, or that’s what he said at least.

In his mind, Kuroo is in the right. He has every right to be angry with you. For three years you withheld that one of the greatest crime organizations was a past employer. I must be the biggest fucking joke.

He knows deep down that this is all just pain coming out as anger. He just lost one of his best friends, one of the few people in his life that he genuinely cares about enough to hang out with on his days off - and one of the only people he’s been interested in years.

Everytime he thinks about your laugh, or your little smile when you finish a stack of paperwork, his heart hurts a little more. The tightness in his chest is something he only experienced when his parents divorced when he was eleven, but it wasn’t even bad compared to now.

How could he not be angry?

Once his feet hit the asphalt of the parking lot, he finally glances up and realizes the chaos around him. The pile of garbage in the bin was merely smoldering at this point. He looks to the apartment and notices the two figures standing in the living room, which he can see through the window. Both seem to be inspecting something in the palm of Iwaizumi’s hand, unaware that Kuroo is standing in the parking lot.

“Guys…?” Kuroo’s voice is soft as he passes through the threshold into your apartment. “What the fuck is going on?” Iwaizumi and Oikawa turn to face him immediately, not expecting anyone else to be here and they certainly were not expecting it to be Kuroo.

“Y/N’s gone.” Tooru speaks clearly as he glares daggers at the man who dared to speak against you only thirty minutes ago. Iwa crumples the stamped paper in his hand and clenches his jaw.

“Yeah… I can see that.” Kuroo’s eyes shift between all corners of the room, processing every bit of information his eyes came across.

Hajime nudges Tooru with his hand (rather harshly but the anger wasn’t directed at him) and he walks out of the apartment, shoulder checking Kuroo as they pass by. There was nothing more for them there, and now Tooru and himself are going to have to think of a way to find you.

Kuroo remains in his spot as a weight starts to bear down on his body. The couch he crashed on when he was too drunk, the table you guys mulled over paperwork together - the apartment he had made so many memories in was completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but start to think that this might just be his fault. He left you last night in the exact spot he’s standing in right now. Yes, he was upset. What you two had built was entirely based off of trust, and Kuroo hasn’t trusted someone that much in a very long time (Kenma can attest to that).

You deemed that information as potentially harmful to him, and he told you that you had no right. What kind of idiot am I? As he looks around the space, he realizes now just how dangerous this all really is.

Iwaizumi stomps his way back onto the main roads and keeps a hand clutched around the stamped paper. “Who the hell does he think he is?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone, but Tooru knows this is how he expresses his anger without going to the gym.

“Takeda probably sent him since everyone at the agency still doesn't know what’s going on.” Tooru pulls on his jacket and follows Iwa down the sidewalk.

“Better off just leaving us the hell alone. Ukai and Takeda aren’t stupid and they both know something has always been up with Y/N. As soon as we came into the picture I’m pretty sure they picked up on us being involved with her too. Kuroo shouldn’t be sticking his nose in this,” Iwa huffs, but Oikawa makes the motion to start talking before he is swiftly cut off. “And I don’t give a shit what Y/N told him. The only reason she did so was because she had too after last night. There was no way for her to cover up that encounter with Tendou and you know it.”

“Do you think she would’ve kept it from them forever though?”

“I don’t know. She’s never really told us why she left in the first place, but Y/N was with the Port Mafia for years. Most of her teenage and early adult life was spent with them before she just up and left.” Iwaizumi shoves the paper into his pocket as he talks, also placing his jacket over his shoulders. He guides the pair back to the subway station.

“Guys!” The two stop walking for a moment, each processing whose voice was calling out but once it registers that it’s only Kuroo, they continue down the steps into the station. “Wait up!”

Their pace picks up as they pull out their passes to scan and get through the bars as quickly as possible. Too bad Kuroo’s legs are long and he catches up to them in the nick of time. Just as Tooru swipes his card, Kuroo is hot on his heels as he fumbles around to find his own train pass. “Wait- please.”

Tooru can tell that he’s desperate, but when Iwa glances over his shoulder to check on the situation Tooru can see the anger starting to bubble up again. His own stomach churns at the thought that Kuroo can just switch on a dime if need be. That even though you explained everything to him, it still took seeing all of the damage for him to realize what kind of scenario this really is.

“Please Oikawa,” Kuroo grabs his shoulder once he makes it past the turnstiles. “Let me help you guys find Y/N.”

“And why the hell would we want your help?” Ignoring that he called for Oikawa, Hajime fully turns around and marches over to Kuroo. Although he is shorter than both of them, Hajime has this air about him that says I will kill you here and now depending on how you answer.

Kuroo’s chest pounds against itself. He snapped out of his own thoughts pretty quickly back at the apartment and realized that you could actually be hurt. This wasn’t just something nonchalant, there was a reason you kept this from him.

After coming to, he figured the only thing he can do in this situation is to find you. Iwaizumi and Oikawa were involved in this somehow. There was a reason they weren’t at your apartment last night having that same discussion. “I know you two are the only ones who are gonna be able to find her-” he pauses to take a few deep breaths “-and I owe her an apology.”

“No shit you owe her an apology after all of the fucking chaos you caused back at the office. You’re lucky I didn’t deck you in your fucking chair.” Iwaizumi steps closer to Kuroo, almost chest to chest, and stares right into his irises.

Oikawa grabs at Iwa’s bicep and tugs him back. “Let’s just go Hajime.” Iwa snarls and stomps away.

“Please…” Kuroo can’t mess this up, he knows that. This is the only shot he has at finding you is by getting in with these two. “I know I screwed up.”

Oikawa slows his pace, listening to the pleas of someone he once considered more than an acquaintance. His mind is telling him to follow Hajime and find you as quickly as possibly, but he also knows in his heart that Kuroo meant well. You trusted him enough to explain everything to him.

“I don’t know if Y/N’s dead.” Kuroo’s voice cracks as he thinks out loud of what might be. “I- I know I messed up really bad but I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Look,” Oikawa stops fully and turns his head to speak, “most likely she’s not dead since there weren’t any signs of struggle at the apartment. Her car was gone and her personal belongings were either missing or charred in the trash can in the parking lot. The mafia just destroyed her house, but my bet is that she’s still alive.”

Iwaizumi had stopped walking as well, listening to Kuroo’s plight. Although he was full of anger, he heard the crack in his voice. He hears his pleas and Hajime is torn on what is the right decision.

The three are silent as civilians walk past them, hurrying from one train to the next. Hajime takes a deep breath and rubs his eyebrows with the index and thumb of his right hand. “You have a lot of shit to make up for and explain after this morning, especially if you’re gonna help find her.”

Oikawa and Kuroo look at him in shock. “So I can come-”

“We’re still working on a case together and Y/N is a part of this.” Iwa cuts him off with both his words and a glare. “Nothing more. Once we know she’s alive we’re done. We’ll do what we have too, but you don’t get to go any further than that. Y/N wanted to protect you and everyone at the agency, so the least you can do is stay out of all of this. For her sake.��

Wordlessly, Kuroo nods and the pair in front of him start to walk further down the pathways, hopping onto a train and heading into the city. Hajime’s expression is stern, Tooru has an air of uncertainty about him and Kuroo clenches his fists around nothing, wondering where you could be and what’s going to happen now.

“Where are we going?” Kuroo asks once they all press themselves amongst the crowd of people.

“Back to the agency. We left some of our gear there and then we’ll have to stop by Iwaizumi’s house to get some more.” Oikawa looks around the train cautiously.

Kuroo opens to speak again, but then closes his mouth. That just means I’ll have to explain what’s going on to everyone else.

“Everyone there has had their suspicions about Y/N and the both of us, so it really doesn’t matter if you tell them we’re ex-members as well.” Hajime outright confirms the next thing on Kuroo’s mind. He had the intention of asking, but wasn’t sure how to bring it up in conversation. “I’m getting in and getting out as quickly as I possibly can. I don’t owe these people any explanations as to why I’m choosing to find Y/N, or why this matters to me.”

Respectable is the only word that comes to mind when Kuroo thinks of Iwaizumi. He’s a gentleman, chivalrous and makes good on his word. Although he has a mild temper at times, Kuroo has never known him to say something he does not mean.

“Y/N may have been our boss, but she cared for us more than anyone in that damned organization ever would’ve if we stayed. We owe her a lot, and finding her and helping her can only pay a small portion of that back.” Oikawa pipes up, sprinkling more bits and pieces of information for Kuroo to pick up on. “She’s like a sister to me and it would kill me to know that she might be out there, struggling when I could’ve helped. The same goes for Iwa-chan.”

The rest of the train ride is silent between the three. Kuroo tries his best to wrap his head around everything that has happened in less than twelve hours. Not only was it revealed to him that you were an ex-mafia member, but two of his other co-workers were as well, and you used to be an executive. You ran a portion of the city for years, Iwaizumi and Oikawa working under you until you left for unknown reasons and joined the Armed Detective Agency sometime later.

You were one of the most powerful people in Yokohama, but why did you leave it all? What drove you out? Oikawa didn’t really give a reason as to why they left, but it was related to you in some way.

Walking in the agency doors with a new perspective gave Kuroo an icky feeling. Everyone in the office turns to see who it is, and their eyes go wide when the three figures walk through the door. Oikawa and Iwaizumi beeline it over to their desks and start to rummage through the drawers and shoving things in their pockets. Kuroo stands awkwardly by the door before walking slowly over to his belongings and picking up what he thinks he’ll need.

Bokuto and Akaashi watch him carefully, waiting for an opportunity to ask what was happening. It was Ukai, who walked into the main office right after the front door slammed shut, that broke the deafening silence.

“My office. Now.” The three halt their movements for a moment, knowing the order was directed towards them but each unwilling to actually make their way over. Surprisingly Oikawa moves first, eyes watching the ground as he moves to follow the blonde. Iwaizumi and Kuroo follow shortly after, the other detectives shifting slightly in their seats to try and get a better position to listen in.

Ukai’s private office space only had two guest chairs, so Kuroo was forced to lean against the back wall as they held conversation.

“I’m assuming that under all the circumstances brought up today, Y/N wasn’t at her house and now you’re all back to try and find her.” Ukai’s eyes shift around the room, glaring at each of them individually but lingering on Kuroo’s a split second longer than the others.

“That would be correct.” Tooru confirms. He never feared vocal confrontation since he usually charmed his way out of things, but this was a situation he knew that required a certain level of honesty.

“So she’s not dead, just missing, and your plan is to find her and then what?” The butt of his cigarette package is beaten at the base of his palm before he opens the backing and pulls one out. He lets the question linger in the air for a moment before placing the filter to his lips. A small black lighter that’s usually kept in the desk drawer is rummaged out before flickering to life. Ukai takes a long drag in, and slowly exhales the thick smoke into the cramped room.

A noxious smell enters the senses of every other man in the room, each scowling when they realize that the air conditioner isn’t running and the windows are shut. Ukai’s set on getting his answers, one way or another.

With a light cough, the charmer opens his mouth once more. “Y/N must have a plan if she decided to burn everything and run. Once we find her, Iwaizumi and myself plan on helping her in whatever she decides. Kuroo will be returning to the agency. Depending on what happens with Y/N we may or may not be coming back.”

The end of the cigarette burns bright when Ukai inhales. He’s attentive to every word and weighs the possibilities in his mind, although he knows that two of them have every intention to find you regardless if Ukai wants them too.

“Is her apartment gone?”

“No, just trashed from the Port Mafia.” Oikawa speaks again, knowing that Kuroo is in no position to speak and Iwaizumi would rather be out looking for you.

“You said she burned everything, is that correct?”

“Yes. She burnt her personal belongings and took her car. There was nothing left in her house at the time of arrival but the furniture was smashed to pieces.” Tooru’s mouth dries as he speaks, taking a breath to swallow his spit and think of his next words. “We think that she left her apartment right after she explained everything to Kuroo and the mafia found her address a few hours later.”

Using his better judgement, he thought it would be better to be upfront about everything than only tell Ukai bits. After working with him for so long, Oikawa knows that Ukai isn’t a fool.

A beat of silence passes over them. Ukai takes into consideration all of his options, or what he can control. Kuroo looks down at his hands and remains passive; Iwaizumi doing the same but shaking his leg, hoping that the time would pass quicker so they can get out there and start searching.

“Do you think you can actually find her?” The cigarette is only a butt now, the ashes have been tapped into a tray sitting on the edge of Ukai’s desk, who stares into the stern irises of Iwaizumi. He matches the intensity and responds without hesitation.

“Yes. It might take a couple of nights, but I doubt she left the city.”

Ukai runs his tongue across his upper teeth, lips shut as he looks at this rag-tag team sitting before him. Three men who want to find you desperately, two with the same intent and the third still a mystery to him considering the events from just an hour ago. “I want reports on everything once you get back.” Kuroo’s head snaps up only to find the Ukai is looking between them as he smothers the cig in it’s ashtray. “Go find her.”

23 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 4 years ago

Text

my whole trajectory's toward you, and it's not losing momentum (call it anything we want)

Summary: Anthony had expected a certain amount of trouble when he took over managing the Danbury campaign. He didn’t imagine this amount. He didn’t imagine that it might at some point become something other than trouble.

There was mention of rival political campaign managers Kate and Anthony and even though I couldn’t quite get there - or make a scene happen which directly featured Newton 😔 - I did manage rivals and political campaigning. So here’s something to serve as incentive, congratulation, or brief respite depending on how far @thesokovianaccords has gotten in her grad school application process. Sorry if it’s a bit OOC, Livia - maybe it’s just the right degree to make sense in a modern AU? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read on AO3

A week into running Dr. Danbury’s campaign, Anthony realizes that he has made a grave error in allowing himself to give in when his mother requested “a bit of a favor.”

At the time she’d asked, he had just gotten the news that his previous candidate was dropping out of his own race for health reasons, and of course, Dr. Danbury has been a fixture for his entire life so he might well have stepped up merely because she needed help (despite knowing that the reason she needed the help was that she’d fired her entire previous campaign team). Besides that, he has rarely been able to deny his mother anything, and that’s even before she brings up the number of hours she spent in labor with him (twenty-two, as he well knows by now) but still...he damn well should have ignored all that this time.

For his money, the most annoying part of not being listened to by the candidate is that her instincts have mostly served her well. Three days after he started, she ignored the common wisdom of maintaining decorum and not insulting the opposition which he had reminded her of before she went on camera, and had only benefited from it; apparently the majority of the constituency agreed that the particular candidate she had been asked about was indeed a “first class wanker who should pray nightly for the brains God gave a goose.” At least she had heeded Anthony’s advice to refer to the man as “my opponent” rather than using his name and giving him free advertising in the soundbite as it was played on nearly every news broadcast for the next several days.

“Well, we seem to have come out of this one all right,” she says, sipping her coffee and looking just the slightest bit smug - he doesn’t lie to candidates, so he had been obliged to report that the latest polling numbers actually went up after the incident. “Anything else, Bridgerton?”

Swallowing the speech he wants to give about how easily things could shift during a campaign, not to mention the difference between what people told a pollster and how they actually cast their votes, he says, “Perhaps we might look to hire a policy director, ma’am? To help...guide the campaign a bit more?”

“If we did, I should wonder what I had hired you for.” She looks at him over the tops of her glasses as if she can tell he is dreaming of responding that ah, well, it seems he is unnecessary, and perhaps he will just excuse himself from the position now. He makes sure his expression remains neutral and finally she waves a hand. “Well, let me see some names and CVs after the weekend, and I shall decide then.”

“Very good.” He extremely purposefully does not sigh until he is out of her office and striding along the corridor of their campaign headquarters. There are plenty of people who will take a call from him on short notice and who will back him with the candidate. Yes, if he can’t quit altogether (and he can’t if he wants his regular seat at Christmas dinner) then having someone in his corner is just the ticket.

He arrives for work on Monday even earlier than his traditional first thing in the morning, wondering to himself whether it will be better to simply present his top applicants or if he should throw in a decoy or two to make his choices shine even brighter - although perhaps that’s just the sort of ploy that the candidate would sniff out in a heartbeat after a career of wrangling university students. Still debating, he turns the corner toward his office, only to find Dr. Danbury in the hall outside, speaking with someone. Anthony doesn’t recognize the person from the back, can only see a fall of shiny, dark hair, so he guesses it is one of the volunteers, perhaps someone new who has arrived early for orientation. He hopes that Dr. Danbury isn’t being too intimidating.

“Ah, Bridgerton,” the lady in question calls down the hallway, and something about her tone makes Anthony’s spine go straight. “Good morning.”

Still, he clings to his good mood as he greets her. “Let me put my things down, and then we can go over your schedule for the day. And I have those CVs you had requested as well.”

“Nevermind those,” she says, and the little smile on her lips makes every one of his nerves stand on end. “Did you know that your mother and I went out for a drink on Friday evening? Oh, yes, we had a wonderful time, and your brother Colin came around to escort us home. Such a lovely boy, had some delightful stories about his trip to Greece - and so interested in the campaign. In fact, he had a brilliant thought when I mentioned your idea for bringing on someone new to help shape things alongside the two of us.”

Whatever virtues his brother Colin might possess, interest in the campaign is absolutely not among them. Skin humming all over, Anthony manages a casual, “Oh?”

“Indeed, and luckily I was able to organize it all over the weekend so you wouldn’t have to do a thing.” She gestures toward her companion, and with a sick swoop in his stomach, Anthony knows who he is going to see before she shifts around.

“I believe you two have met before?” Dr. Danbury says, voice fading just a bit beneath the static in Anthony’s ears as Kate Sheffield turns to face him.

They have not actually met before, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t know of each other.

The first time Anthony heard her name, it was her sister saying it - about twenty times in a row, if he’s being honest. He met Edie Sheffield two years back at one of his mother’s galas. Edie ran a different prestigious kids charity than the one Mum was fundraising for, so he’d wondered if inviting her was somehow inviting the enemy or maybe bragging. But Edie was sweet, and passionate about her job, and looked absolutely gorgeous in sapphire satin, and he settled into a night of getting her drinks and chatting her up, despite the fact that she didn’t seem as interested in speaking with him as she did in mentioning that he really must talk with her sister.

He’d stayed the night in the hotel where the gala had been held (alone, in one of the rooms which had been set aside for guests from the event; he’d put Edie in a car at about 11) and was planning on taking his mother to breakfast after she came down from her own room. When he went to check out, however, the desk attendant handed him a message which had been taken down for him on hotel stationary.

Dickheads like you shouldn’t try to get with my sister. Don’t do it again.

“Is there anything else that I can assist you with?” asked the attendant, holding onto her poker face remarkably. Perhaps they taught that in hospitality programs.

He’d crushed the note in his hand before smoothing his own face placidly and handing over his credit card. His mother was all smiles and chatter during breakfast, but his mind was still on the note, which seemed to have burned itself behind his eyelids.

Dickheads like you - oh, so only other types of dickheads need apply? And get with? Were they twelve years old and couldn’t use grownup words? Not to mention the signature, such as it was. Trying to play mafia boss, expecting that he’d know who had sent it. He did, but it took a lot of bloody gall to assume that he would.

Not as much gall as Don’t do it again. He couldn’t even think of that part, the demeaning certainty of it, without a certain vein beginning to throb in his forehead.

In the two years since, he found himself falling back into analysis of the note - it was barely more than a dozen words, so how could there still be so much to parse? - whenever her name came up, which became more and more frequent as she moved from nothing campaigns in the most forgotten corners of the country to deputy deputy whatever on somewhat more consequential ones. She was gaining a reputation among his peers. They said she was smart and canny, that she had a knack for looking at the bigger picture and acting on her instincts.

(Someone who’d once worked with her had also mentioned that it helped that she didn’t have a high opinion of her looks, didn’t flaunt herself the way some women did around the office - she certainly didn’t have a reason to do so, but sometimes that didn’t stop them.

“Oh, be fair,” said the other man. “She does have quite a nice—”

They’d shut up when he’d walked into the room - everyone knew better than to talk that way around him, and it wasn’t just because of “all those sisters” the way some people said. Eloise had been interning with the campaign that summer, and for the rest of the day while he’d talked with human resources, he’d let her make mistakes on all of their lunch and coffee orders and give them the wrong data for their reports when they’d made her look it up instead of doing it themselves. When he’d fired them, he spread the word on why, but left the particulars out of it.)

The note returns to his mind whenever someone new has their one experience of suggesting Kate Sheffield as a potential hire, or when he thinks he’s seen her in the background of some press conference or event for another candidate, or if he runs into Edie at another charity function, where he absolutely does not flirt with her just that extra bit harder while part of his mind thinks Your move directly toward her sister who he has never actually met in person.

Until now.

“We’re acquainted,” he tells Dr. Danbury, managing to remain polite by avoiding Kate’s gaze. He leaves it at that.

They’re the first two in the conference room for the all-staff the next morning, and somehow he’s not surprised.

“Good morning,” he says as he comes in to find her over by the coffee. She’s doctoring it significantly, clearly already familiar with the quality to be found in a campaign office. He always buys his own; he can’t stand the amount of milk and sugar and oddly flavored creamers required to make the other stuff palatable (and don’t even get him started on the alleged tea).

Tone cool, she replies, “Mr. Bridgerton,” and takes a sip from her mug.

It isn’t as if the staff goes around calling him “Tony” or “boss,” and only the most knock-kneed newcomers call him “sir.” He’s Anthony to most. He has no inclination to correct her.

He works to keep his tone casual and courteous as usual when he introduces her to everyone (“And this is Kate Sheffield, who will be doing some consulting for us”) but something about it must catch Dr. Danbury’s attention, because she raises an eyebrow at him from her end of the table and rests both hands atop her stick.

The fact that the candidate is aware that something is going on between the two of them makes it all the more exasperating when two days later she signs off on Kate’s media and advertising plan over his own. He shows up for dinner with Daphne and Simon that evening as planned, knowing that Daphne would be completely willing to pull the pregnancy card if he tried to get out of it, but she sends him home before the waiter has brought the dessert menus because he keeps muttering about how more people travel by tube and railways and for longer distances but are more likely to take more individual rides on buses and what that means for posting print ads.

(The numbers are seared into his mind, considering she’d included a full breakdown with three kinds of graphs and bloody footnotes in her presentation.)

Getting released from the restaurant early gives him extra time to go back to the office for a bit and put together a preliminary get out the vote strategy. He calls in several favors as a part of it, including one from an old friend of his father’s who asks incredulously, “Really? For this?” clearly wondering whether Anthony’s reputation is deserved if he’s pulling out all the stops for something so routine.

It’s well worth it, however, when Dr. Danbury raises an eyebrow as she looks over the document he’d put together, and tells him, “Well done, Bridgerton, very well done indeed. I think this shall do nicely.”

He does not even glance toward Kate; there really isn’t any need to gloat.

Well, one tiny peek won’t hurt.

Her jaw is set and her eyes are flinty, but she gives him just the slightest nod, as if to say that he might have won this round, but she’d like to see him try the next one.

Just before three in the morning, he wakes himself, panting, from a dream that makes him think he might have to report himself for workplace sexual harassment.

“I would have hoped you’d have better self-preservation instincts,” he says aloud to his body. “Or at least better taste.”

Collapsing back against the pillows, he pushes his mind toward images of ex-girlfriends and celebrities, but no, there is Kate, strong and challenging and gorgeous above him, a vivid afterimage that refuses to go away, and he sighs and gives into it, trying to set himself to rights so he can get past this and find at least a bit more sleep.

Anthony has never been the sort of boss who shouts at people in the office - he has always tended toward cold anger and “you know what you’ve done, now fix it” stares, and doesn’t intend to act differently now. But as he stalks over to Kate’s desk, he finds a fiercer anger taking over, just a bit.

“You changed my media statement,” he says, voice silken with it as he leans his palms down on her desktop and rests his weight on them. He is speaking low, the words just for her, although his eyes roam over the others moving busily around the main space of the office.

She turns her chair slightly, so that he feels the brush of her hair on his forearms where his sleeves are rolled up; it shifts his attention fully in her direction. Her hair tie had snapped earlier, and the thick topknot she tried twisting for herself has collapsed, leaving it free around her shoulders. He snaps himself back from examining the shining curls as she says, “Yes, I did.”

Part of him admires her straightforwardness, that she takes responsibility without even trying to deny it. The other part...well, the anger hasn’t exactly disappeared.

In a level tone which would have his siblings looking over in alarm, he says. “I had worked that statement out with the entire communications department.”

“The entire communications department does what you tell them to do. It��s what you pay them for.”

“And what, exactly, do I pay you for?”

They are facing each other now, their bodies a bit too close for it. She is looking directly at him, voice sharp and clear as glass. “I was hired by the candidate, to help run the campaign that she wants. Your statement was just a polite walkback of her words.”

He has the sudden thought that the brown of her eyes could be warm, that her gaze probably is warm when she’s looking at her sister or the dog whose photo she has framed on her desk (a plump, panting little corgi wearing a bright blue bow tie, absurd), but he’s never seen her that way. He’s only ever gotten this, annoyance and disdain and perhaps disappointment.

Still, he responds, “Her words need to be walked back if she wants to someday be more than the candidate. In this constituency, colonial reparations aren’t a popular enough issue to increase turnout for those who weren’t already interested, and it’s exactly the sort of thing which will put off those who were on the fence. We’re trying to flip a seat by reminding people of what their current MP is doing wrong; we have to stay on message, not muddy things with topics too few understand. Sending out a statement moderating the comment is the right move.”

“But that statement isn’t what the candidate believes, and her future constituents should know what her actual position is - they likely aren’t as stupid as you seem to think. And besides that, she has the right stance in the first place.”

In the weeks since she arrived, he’s found that the things people said of her were true: she is smart, perhaps too smart for the good of either of them, and decisive, easily seeing what’s been done and what needs to be and acting on it, the exact sort of person you would want at your side as you plot a course forward. But he hadn’t realized that she was a believer.

There are fewer idealists in politics than one might think, or at least who have risen to her level. He always finds them a bit off-putting, and it startles him even more with her - he had thought he recognized in her a sharpness and pragmatism which reminded him of his own.

“Don’t do anything like this again,” he says, trying to temper his own abruptness even as he is somewhat unsettled by the conviction in her. “Or I’ll fire you, and I don’t care what the candidate says about it.”

“I think she would have quite a lot to say in that circumstance,” Kate tells him, but she turns back to her keyboard and doesn’t argue anymore.

At least until the next day, when they end up nearly nose to nose in his office as Anthony maintains that they can’t get anyone’s hopes up with a promise of immediate action on climate change, especially considering the priorities in the party platform and the likely makeup of the next parliament, and Kate practically shouts that they’re showing people where their convictions lie and that Dr. Danbury will fight for them if she gets the chance.

When Anthony dreams of her again that night, they are not talking about policy at all. But when he wakes up, edgy and aching as he is, he finds himself hoping one day to see her smile at him the way he did in his sleep; he wants to know if her eyes really are as warm as he imagined.

On Saturday, there’s such persistent nagging in the older sibling groupchat that Anthony finally gives in and agrees to leave the office for a night out. Forcing him into some allegedly relaxing activity is a time-honored tradition when they’re coming into the final stretch of a campaign; he’s certain the others have been discussing tactics in one of the numerous other chats that are always going on. (The last he’d glimpsed, the sibling group which didn’t include Gregory, Hyacinth, or himself - but did, irritatingly, include Simon - was named “Anthony’s Scary Forehead Vein.”)

“Please tell me that we aren’t going to paint ceramics again,” Anthony says as he walks, hands in his pockets, beside Benedict. Their group is too large to all move together on the sidewalk, which is a bit of a relief. “I don’t think I could put up with another night of Eloise reminding me that there are stencils if I need them.”

Benedict very narrowly and very obviously avoids laughing at him. Now that Anthony thinks about it, actually, his brother had spent that particular outing using a dozen colors to intricately decorate a mug, spending so long on it that they had nearly closed the place around him. Their mother drinks her tea from it frequently, however. “Thankfully there won’t be any pottery or painting tonight.”

“And it’s not—”

“Not a club,” Benedict assures him, then grins. “Can you imagine Simon trying to make certain no one came within a foot radius of Daph on the dance floor?”

Anthony shakes his head, looking ahead of them to where his sister and brother-in-law are walking together, not holding hands, but so close that they might as well be. He still feels a bit strange about the two of them together, especially after all the drama on the way, but he can see that they’re in love each other, even if he can’t really imagine why anyone would want to be, and they’re extremely obviously happy, so he’s trying to grow accustomed to it. He can also absolutely see Simon working himself into knots playing mosh pit bodyguard.

“So where are we going, then?” he asks, but before Benedict can answer, Eloise, broken away from her friend Penelope, tosses her arms over their shoulders and wriggles her face between them.

“You’ll just have to see,” she says, and Anthony doesn’t have to look at her to know that she is twitching her eyebrows at them. He probably could get it out of her if he tried, but he actually is finding himself feeling a little lighter being out with everyone, so he just waits and ten minutes later, they’re entering an already fairly crowded pub. Colin and Eloise go over to register them as a trivia team - or more likely to bicker over what name their team should have. As if realizing the same, Daphne squeezes Simon’s hand once and pushes over to join them.

(Her stomach is still flat, even for someone looking, but Anthony notices that she places a protective hand over it as she walks through the crush anyway.)

The rest of them go to claim a table and start putting together an order for drinks and appetizers. Anthony is leaning across, shouting a promise that if Penelope doesn’t finish her chili loaded potato wedges, they’ll certainly be taken care of, when someone behind him asks, “Excuse me, can we borrow this chair?”

“Sorry, there are more of us coming,” he says politely, turning to face the woman. She’s thirtyish and tall, but that’s all he takes in before he spots, over her shoulder, the rest of her group. They’re all chatting with each other, wearing matching T-shirts in a variety of bold colors which declare them the Quizzie Bennets, and in the center, her hair up in a ponytail and definite warmth in her eyes, is Kate. Edie stands beside her, picture perfect nose crinkled in a teasing way, but all Anthony can notice is that he’s never seen Kate in jeans like this, that the odd, bright purple of her shirt looks electric instead of ugly against the dark of her hair, and all he can think is that he never imagined her as relaxed as she is, weapons laid down.

She seems to detect his gaze then, and as she meets it he expects the weapons to be picked right back up. There’s certainly surprise, a guardedness to her eyes as they meet his, but then she narrows them in his direction, as if saying game on.

So that’s how she wants to play it, he thinks, then turns to the others and says, “No alcohol.”

Benedict blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“In solidarity with Daphne,” Anthony offers.

“Daph does know that it’s pub trivia,” Simon says. “And she’s not—”

“Fine,” Anthony interrupts before the compliment train can get rolling. He sets his jaw. “I mean that we need to keep clear heads if we’re going to absolutely trounce everyone here.”

Penelope looks a bit alarmed by the vehemence in his tone and Simon quirks a brow, but the others are game enough - Bridgertons have always had a competitive streak, and apparently the rest of them actually chose this particular trivia night because it’s done aloud, infinite bounce style, instead of on paper.

“We play with live ammo around here,” Eloise declares gleefully once she’s returned and been updated on what she missed.

“Damn right we do,” Anthony mutters to himself, glad that he is seated with his back to Kate so he can resist the temptation to see how irritated she looks just now, or how face might be a little flushed and her ponytail loosened from the heat of everyone packed together inside…

“Who exactly do you keep looking for?” asks Colin, who’d plopped himself into the chair Kate’s teammate had asked about. He cranes obviously around, and Anthony turns firmly back to the table before his brother can follow his line of vision.

For all that they didn’t pick their team in order to be serious contenders, they do cover the bases fairly well. Anthony has politics and current events, obviously, along with history. Penelope plays backup there as well, and covers literature alongside Colin, who handily takes on geography too. (Anthony has always inwardly wondered how reasonable it was to build a career around wanderlust and Instagram and freelancing for travel magazines, but if it brings them victory tonight, he will never question again.) Benedict apparently took in more about nature than any of the rest of them who grew up in the Kentish countryside, and knows quite a bit more about art and art history than Anthony had expected. Daphne, unpredictably, knows a lot about sports - she claims that it’s what happens when you spend your life being rambled at as “another one of the boys” - and, more predictably, music.

Anthony hadn’t expected Simon’s skill with numbers to be particularly helpful, but now he’ll have to buy him a drink at some point, both for doubting and for pulling them out of a sticky situation involving Bernstein's constant. He wishes that Francesca wasn’t too young to have come out with them - there are several instances where they could have used her chiming in with quiet calm about anything related to economics or science, but they instead have to all give questionable contributions in that regard. They all chip in for pop culture, too, although Eloise is clearly the master - she actually yawns as she announces that of course the country where Monica’s boyfriend Pete Becker took her on their first date was Italy, and Anthony has never been more grateful that he lets everyone sponge off his Netflix login (although would it really kill them to not be using all the screens on the rare occasions he actually has the time and inclination to watch something?).

The trouble is that there are plenty of other teams who are clearly regulars, and they were put together in order to be serious contenders. The questions and answers are flying through the air, the quizmaster, a skinny older man with big hair shouting “Correct! For ten points,” more often than not, and most importantly, the Quizzie Bennets are availing themselves nicely. (He should have guessed as soon as he saw the matching T-shirts.)

Questions his team can’t answer correctly bounce to them next, and he can’t help but toss Kate an incredulous look after she not only answers that Angela Merkel was voted chancellor of November rather than October 2005, but also rattles off the margin for and against. Her eyes meet his as if she was expecting his glance, but she just shrugs before wrapping her lips around her straw and taking a dainty sip of her drink. He has to look away then.

Still, Team Quizerton (apparently the name that both Colin and Eloise had hated enough for Daphne to negotiate them to agreement) has done well enough that Anthony feels confident as they move into the final round.

“And what will the twist be tonight?” the excitable quizmaster asks, although he then just presses a button on his phone rather than spinning some kind of enormous wheel. His face lights up as he announces grandly, “Ah, the ladder!”

He quickly outlines the rules: each team will have five questions selected for them in ascending order of difficulty, with point values from ten to fifty. For each correct answer, they will receive the corresponding points and the option of requesting a related bonus question for half the initial question’s value. Wrong answers mean a point deduction, double for bonus questions, and the end of play for that team. You can also pass, choosing another team to answer and forfeiting further questions for yours but freezing your points where they stand.

It’s more like a game show than any trivia night that Anthony is familiar with, but he actually appreciates the strategy element; he can understand why this would be Kate’s preferred contest.

He considers giving a pep talk to the table, but all of them - except for Simon, who’s looking somewhere between vaguely amused and bored - are dialed in, ready to claim victory, so he settles back and readies himself for it too.

It happens in the final round. Anthony is just allowing himself to feel the slightest bit smug at having earned them another 75 points by not only correctly responding that Sri Lanka was the first country to have a female prime minister, but answering the bonus of her name (Sirimavo Bandaranaike) and year of election (1960) as well. The quizmaster nods, turns, and reads off the next question: “This famous playwright’s last words were reportedly ‘I knew it! I knew it! Born in a hotel room and, goddamn it, dying in a hotel room.’”

There’s a strange, deep silence, then a buzz of whispering among the Quizzie Bennets, and Anthony is struck by the realization that they don’t know the answer. He certainly doesn’t either, and a glance around at his group tells him that they would have been screwed had they gotten the question, but it doesn’t matter. Excitement licks up his throat, victory so close he can taste it…

And then Kate’s head comes up from the huddle, and her eyes meet his, and he knows exactly what she is going to do before she does it.

“Ten seconds!” says the quizmaster.

“Trust me,” Kate mouths to her teammates, and then says aloud, “We’d like to pass, and give the Know It Ales a chance to answer.”

Anthony’s mouth goes dry. Stupid team name aside, they’ve been confidently answering questions all night, and this time is no different. Their leader is nearly bored as he immediately says, “Eugene O’Neill.” And Anthony can barely hear the room around him over the blood rushing in his ears as they answer the follow-up too.

When the quizmaster declares the Know It Ales the champions for the evening, Kate slings her arms around her teammates and cheers as if he’s announced her name instead. The other Quizzie Bennets look puzzled, but when she stares defiantly at Anthony, chin raised, beaming, glowing not like she’s in the spotlight but like she’s the light itself, he somewhat suspects that she’s the winner indeed.

“Isn’t that—” Colin starts somewhere close to Anthony’s ear.

“No, it is not,” Anthony tells him firmly, and wrestles him off to pay their tab.

Later that night, after he’s somewhat successfully distracted himself with work and somewhat less successfully distracted himself with looking for something to watch (why isn’t everyone asleep, and even if they are up, could they really not leave him one available screen?) he finds himself sitting on the edge of his bed with his work phone in one hand and his personal one in the other. And even though he knows exactly how bad an idea it is, he very carefully references the campaign contact group and keys one number into a new text message in his personal phone.

Sorry that this didn’t seem to be your night. Best of luck to your team next time.

He shoves out a breath and stands as soon as he’s sent it, forces himself to start getting ready for bed; she’s probably asleep now, or she might read it as rude or sarcastic and choose not to respond, and the text is just going to sit there, awkward and interminable…

There are plenty of ways to be lucky, thanks very much, and I think we found one - although I look forward to reclaiming my rightful title someday soon. See you on Monday, Bridgerton.

Regardless of what he tells himself, he can’t quite get the stupid grin off his face as he shuts off the light. He’s under no illusions about who his dreams will feature tonight.

Monday night before the election, Anthony leaves the office past eleven. He rubs his eyes as he walks past dark cubicles and conference rooms - unsurprisingly, he’s the last one around - and decides that what he needs more than sleep is something to eat, and not whatever cup noodles or single egg he might come up with at home. No, he needs comfort food, something generous and hot and greasy as Benedict’s face the year he was thirteen (not that his at fifteen was much better).

His favorite hole in the wall is open until midnight, so he stumbles over there and buys the biggest order of chips he can, the enormous burger nearly an afterthought. The place is tiny and not the sort of spot that has ever even heard of ambiance, but he’s tired and the idea of waiting to get back to his flat and eating in its emptiness isn’t particularly appealing. He turns with his food in hand and finds Kate looking up at him, startled, from one of the three tables.

He could take one of the others, leave them to eat in awkward peace, or he could pretend he had always intended to have his food to go. Instead he comes over and asks, “Can I join you?”

Her capable hands moving just a note too slowly, as though giving him time to reconsider, she collects the documents from the opposite side of the table, tapping them into order as he waits patiently. She folds her fingers atop the neat stack in front of her once she’s finished, watching as he dives into his meal; he should probably be embarrassed about it, but he doesn’t really have the energy.

They talk about inconsequential things - how the weather forecast might cause trouble with voter turnout, the unfortunate office incident with Johnson and the speakerphone last week, mutual political acquaintances - and Anthony realizes that it’s the first time they’ve ever done this, just made small talk without disagreeing. Kate doesn’t lose her sharp tongue simply because they are in casual conversation, but it’s different when her remarks aren’t directed at him; hearing her pert analyses of other candidates and campaign staffers actually makes him laugh.

She’s left half a piece of cold fish and polished off more than a few of his chips (completely unthinkingly, he’s sure) when they’re informed that closing time’s come and they have to clear the table. It would be completely natural for them to part ways and see each other in the morning for another round of sparring, but he finds himself saying, “I think I might go get a drink,” and finds her answering, “I think I might join you.”

He regrets it just a bit when he’s balanced on the bar stool (he really is exhausted; this is the earliest he’s been out of the office in days) but then Kate raises her wineglass and says, “To the homestretch,” and smiles just a bit as he touches his glass to hers. The light falls cozy and dim around them and he can still see exactly how long and competent her fingers are, wrapped around the stem, the places where strands of hair have escaped their pins, trailing down to rest against her exposed throat.

Right, he thinks inanely to himself. Right, excellent, this was a good choice, and belts back his scotch before signaling for another.

“Those were your siblings?” she asks, taking a sip of her own drink. “At trivia the other night?”

“Some of them were...are…” He shakes his head, trying to straighten out his own meaning. “It was some of my siblings, the oldest four, and my brother-in-law, and my sister’s best friend.” Then, before he can stop himself, he adds, “I saw your sister was there as well.”

“Hmm,” she says, taking another sip of her cabernet, and he can see her spine stiffening, armor reasserting itself.

For the first time, he realizes that she could easily hate Edie, her younger sister - her younger half-sister, even - who is sweet and accomplished and more apparently pretty, the one people’s eyes turn to when the Sheffield girls are around, but what Kate displays is no begrudging love.

It would probably be better for him to change the topic, get them back on safer ground, but though he might be smart, he’s not necessarily wise, so he tosses back his second scotch and asks, “Why did you warn me off her the first time? You didn’t even know me.”

“Yes, but I knew of you,” she says. As always, she faces the comment head on, doesn’t even pretend not to remember exactly what he’s talking about. “I was starting in the industry, I needed to have an ear to the ground and at least a general sense of the players, and I didn’t like the sense I got about you. It didn't make me think you were the kind of person to trust with my sister.”

“I’ve never—I would never—I don’t think I’ve—” he says, stumbling, slightly stricken. He knows that there are whisper networks about the people - the men - in their field, knows exactly who some of the whispers are about and has done his best to be the type of person who helps make those whispers into shouts. It would kill him a bit to find out that he’s done something that would make someone feel the need to speak about him that way.

“Not necessarily on a personal level,” she says, suddenly gentle, then circles her finger around the rim of her glass and amends, “Well, not that way. People actually said you were very smart and a good employer, but when I learned more about your history, the jobs you’d worked on in the past, it didn’t feel like there was any principle to your choices. As if you were just willing to sell yourself to whoever asked, or at least whoever looked good on a resume. Edwina deserves more than that.”

She is looking at him extremely frankly, as if she hasn’t just shrugged away the idea of the career he’s built, but with the way she says her sister’s name, the softness of it, how she somehow makes the full, old-fashioned version more personal than the nickname - he understands that sort of devotion. Hearing it from her steals the irritation beginning to build even as she continues. “I could never even entirely figure out why you went into politics rather than something else. You’re reasonably intelligent, you could have done any number of things if you weren’t particularly invested in the issues.”

Somehow, instead of the protest he was expecting, that he was intending, what comes out is simply, “It’s the family business.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Bridgerton Group. My father started it.” By her expression, she doesn’t think that two generations exactly makes a family legacy, but for once she holds her tongue, and his, loose with drink and exhaustion, can’t hold back.

“I grew up playing under the table at a dozen campaign offices across London and having poster mock-ups as my placemats. When I was a bit older, I was allowed to volunteer, and I loved seeing him there, in his element, listening to proposals and then telling everyone, ‘Well, here’s what we’re going to do.’” He swallows. “He—My father died, just after my first year at university, and I wasn’t old or experienced enough to take his place. The staff went off to work for other people, and all I could think about was how disappointed he would have been, to see this thing he’d built, this thing he loved, fall apart so easily. The entire time until I graduated, while I was getting experience with other consulting firms and working on other campaigns, I was just waiting until I could do justice to what he left behind for me.

“He nearly called it ABC Consulting, but my mother told him that it sounded too juvenile. My parents had me and my brothers fairly young - he was still a student when Benedict and I were born - and he wanted to name it after us.”

He realizes as soon as he’s said it that he’s only ever admitted that once before, to Simon on a similarly drunken night during their final year at school, forgetting the way that Simon and his father were, or weren’t, with each other; his friend’s face had closed up as soon as the words had left Anthony’s mouth, and they’d never talked about it again. But Kate’s face is open, listening, more than he thinks he’s ever seen from her, in such a way that he thinks he could reveal anything to her.

He could tell her about the trouble he and his brothers got up to as children, or how he likes watching baking shows to relax even though he’s not worth a damn in the kitchen, or that he can’t stop himself from adding another mile to his morning run each time he finds a gray hair. He could start talking about how complicated his feelings have grown regarding the man who was once his best friend, or about the way his entire chest had burned as his mother placed a squalling Hyacinth into his nineteen-year-old hands before closing her eyes and about how he never wants either of them to know that he’d tried to force himself not to tremble and had trembled anyway. But this isn’t the time for any of that, so he continues.

“I wanted to put it back together for him. There were candidates I took on in the early days who were stepping stones, necessary to building a reputation but who I wouldn’t work with again now that I have the reputation and the choices that come with it. And I have my own opinions on the issues - some of which might match yours more closely than you’d expect - but I’m there to make sure that the candidates who hire me succeed in getting where they want to be. I’m good at that, and I’m committed to it, and I’ve never run a campaign I wasn’t proud of. Sometimes, though, being around you, I wonder if you're going to eventually talk me into a different philosophy.”

His glass is full again though he isn’t sure when that happened, and a group of middle-aged men with ties undone and suitcases beneath their eyes fumbles past the bar behind them toward a booth, but the only thing he is paying attention to is Kate’s considering gaze on him as she absently swirls the wine remaining in her glass.

“I have the feeling,” she finally says, “that when you say a different philosophy, you consider it a more naïve one. And I’m not certain that our opinions on the issues would really match up considering that you grew up with family money.” Her voice is not arch or insulting, though, and he would certainly know.

“We were...comfortable,” he admits. She raises a waspish eyebrow in response.

“No one who’s actually middle class would ever put it like that,” she informs him. “You most definitely have a trust fund.” But she actually smiles at him, and for once he knows what it’s like to have Kate Sheffield look at him with warmth in her eyes.

He’d quite like to have that again.

“Do you think—?”

“That we should dignify the remarks with a response? No, I absolutely do not.”

Anthony glares down at the article he has pulled up on his phone, then looks over at Kate, striding down the hall beside him, eating slices of peach out of a reusable container. For a moment he’s distracted from the rumormongering on behalf of one of their opposing campaigns; he thinks of Kate’s hands carefully working the knife around the fruit, of the way her tongue flicks over to catch the juice when she takes a bite…

“I could reach out,” he says, too loudly, before he walks into a wall. “I know the head of the campaign over there, I can remind him about the spirit of fair play and all that, especially this close to the finish line.”

She looks over at him incredulously, snapping the top onto her empty Tupperware. “I don’t care if you were the best man at his wedding, he’ll laugh you off the phone. I’ve had at least three listicles of our candidate’s best insults toward her opponents forwarded to me just this morning.”

“I had the feeling that wouldn’t work.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Just three days left, for better or worse. “Fine, so we say nothing and hope that it passes out of the media cycle quickly and doesn’t do too much damage to the absentee votes.”

“As I said from the beginning.”

“You are far too determined never to let me have the last word,” he says, just the slightest bit amused, as they circle around the desks of the main office, edging their way over to hers.

She snags the toe of her ballet flat on a computer charger trailing across the floor, stumbles, but he catches her hand just in time and sets her upright again. She continues walking as if it hadn’t even happened, raising her voice enough to be heard over the chatter and buzz of phone calls as she teases, “What would be the fun in that?”

Aghast, he says, “We aren’t here to have fun, Sheffield.”

“Oh, did you actually want to win?” She tosses the empty container onto her desk as she drops into her chair, then looks up at him, swiveling slightly from side to side and shaking her head. “You really are a cliché.”

“Yeah, well, here’s another one: get to work.”

“I’m not sure that’s technically a cliché, but I suppose I could do that,” she says, with a shrug and a grin, turning toward her computer. He watches her for another few seconds, and then takes himself off to his office before he becomes too much of a cliché himself.

Despite the phone call he had earlier with his mother promising her that he wouldn’t, he falls asleep on his desk the night before the election, startling himself awake hours later.

“Too bloody old for this,” he mutters to himself, grimacing as seemingly every joint and muscle in his body quite firmly announces itself when he stands. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he gathers his things and makes his way through the darkened office.

Except it isn’t as dark as he’d expected. He scans the desks to try to figure out who left their lamp on, and finds Kate with her head resting on her arms, essentially imitating him from ten minutes prior.

Briefly, he stands there, not entirely sure what to do, but then he walks over, hand hovering by her shoulder before he gives her a light shake.

“Kate,” he says softly, crouching so he’s closer to her level. Her loose ponytail drapes over the burgundy of her blouse, quite close to his hand. He had not realized that he would recognize the scent of her, clean and straightforward with a subtly delicate edge; he should have known - he’s been smelling it in his dreams for weeks. He swallows and shakes her once more. “Kate, you should go home.”

“That was meant to be my line,” she says, far more lucidly than he would have expected. He shifts back as she stirs and sits up, massaging her fingers over her eyes. “I had the feeling that you weren’t going to leave at a sensible time, so I was planning on reminding you before I went home, only apparently I can’t leave at a sensible time either.”

“No, I suspect that sensible times to leave the office don’t involve the letters A or M,” he agrees. “Not that I would know anything about that.”

As she readies herself to leave, he tries to remember that the way she stretches out her back or takes down her hair, how she swings her bag over her shoulder, the quick, assessing way her eyes cover the room to make certain everything is in its place: all of that should be unremarkable. But there’s a moment, just the tiniest sliver of time, when she’s flicked off her desk lamp and they begin to walk out together in the glow of the emergency exit signs and the dim light of windows from other office buildings - she glances over at him, his hair rumpled, tie and briefcase dangling from one hand, and he thinks that he sees her swallow in a way that he recognizes all too well.

And then the moment is gone, and they’re out on the sidewalk, about to go their separate ways, the car he’d called for her already waiting.

“Big day tomorrow,” he says over the top of the door, holding it open as she climbs in. “Are you ready for it?”

“I’m always ready.”

He laughs, soft as the night around them. “Yes, I suppose you are. Good night, then.”

She looks at him one last time in the yellow beam of the streetlight, still a bit sleepy-eyed but no less aware for it. “Good night, Bridgerton,” she tells him, and drives away, and he can’t help but wonder about what if she hadn’t, what if he’d said something or she had made a choice, what if she didn’t drive away from him again.

The day of the election is always the worst for him - all the work behind him, nothing really to be done but let the people vote. He’s in the office earlier than usual anyway, early enough that he isn't certain it was worthwhile going home, but this, at least, he can control. He manages to keep himself busy throughout the day, but it’s all just a countdown to that night.

Somehow, despite - or perhaps because of - the sleeplessness and planning and stress, it isn’t one those contests that drag on. Dr. Danbury is brought on stage at about a quarter to one alongside the other candidates; the results, when the returning officer announces them, are decisive.

She’d brushed away his offers to help or choose a staffer or hire someone to work on her speech with her; instead she’s written it herself, and although brief, it’s as firm and irreverent as she is. He suspects that no one will ever pack as much sarcasm into referring to certain colleagues as “the right honorable.”

He makes some calls and receives congratulations from his mother and siblings, who have long since ceased to find these sorts of things interesting enough to attend but who make certain to keep up from home. As Dr. Danbury frees from handshaking and small talking, he makes his way over to her.

“Congratulations, ma’am.” He holds out his hand, which she eyes with a lifted brow.

“Anthony Bridgerton, I’ve known you since you were charming people from your mother’s arms, and considering that - not to mention all we’ve been through together over these last months - I think you can stand to give me more than just a handshake.”

He hugs her, which feels odd and tells him more than anything that the campaign is over. When he pulls away from her, she pats his cheek. “Now, go celebrate. You’ve earned it. I’m certainly going to.” And she winks.

The campaign staff is making plans for drinks and dancing and even just going home to raise a glass with loved ones. He wades into the group, patting backs and shaking hands, speaking briefly to some of them, smiling all the while.

And then he sees Kate, toward the edge of the crowd, chatting with one of the young guys from finance. Edwina is beside them, likely not as inured to the excitement of the night as the Bridgertons.

Kate, the taller of the two, spots him, leaning over to say something to her sister before weaving her way over. He tips his head toward a quieter little hallway, and they go over together, leaning against parallel walls.

“Congratulations,” they say to each other at the same time, and then immediately after, “I only wanted to say—”

He nods at her to go first. It’s only polite. But there’s an unusual sort of trepidation about her face, a pause that he doesn’t expect, that makes him wonder if she wishes that he’d taken the initiative. Still, she’s Kate, so she takes a breath and comes out with, “Edwina is here tonight, and if you still wanted—Clearly I misjudged you, and so if you were still interested in her, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Oh,” he says, and that is all he can manage for the moment, standing frozen and watching Kate force her shoulders back and her gaze to his.

He does not know precisely how to communicate the depths to which he has realized that he does not want to date Edie Sheffield, that he never wanted to date her, that his interest lies entirely elsewhere. What he says instead is, “I had wanted to ask you to stay on with the Group. Permanently. You’re very, very good at what you do, and I think that...You know, your perspective and your clarity during the campaign was extremely helpful, extremely valuable, to me.”

He can picture it plainly, has been picturing it already: Kate taking him to task about every little issue, forcing him to remember the things outside of the campaign itself, the bigger things. Kate, with her hair swept up and her eyes bright and furious, challenging him to be the best version of himself, or at least to want to try.

But then she looks up at him and says, “I’ve actually had another job offer recently. The candidate—I’m sorry, the MP-elect wants me to be her new chief of staff, and I was already inclined to accept.”

“You’re going to be incredible at that,” he says immediately, blank shock quickly giving way to sincerity then laughter. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. Maybe I just didn’t think that Parliament was ready for it.”

“That’s probably for the best, though. Element of surprise and all.”

Her voice doesn’t trail away but as his laughter does, so does her smile, her animation; the air seems to fall thin and still. He doesn’t know that there’s ever been a beat of awkwardness between them like this, not even when they have been at their most prickly with each other, but it’s there now, in her eyes as she looks across at him, in his gut as he wonders what to say next.

“I’m glad you got another job offer,” is what comes out, and there is her unamused, interrogative eyebrow, hovering upward.

“So you weren’t serious with yours?”

“No, of course I was, it’s only that...Well, I’ve been your boss up until now, regardless of how much you might believe it should be the other way around.” That even gets him a slight returning smile, enough for him to ignore the dryness in his mouth and the franticness of his chest to say, “And if you had taken the job with me, I would have continued to be your boss. Which would have made it rather unacceptable for me to ask you out.”

In the space of that breath, with the silence heavy between them even as they stand right beside a crowded room, even as Dr. Danbury’s voice crows easily above the others, still practiced from projecting through the university lecture hall, he wonders if she is going to leave him like this, cards on the table, only the fall below him.

“Well,” she finally says, slow as anything. She is looking up at him, considering and careful, but he knows that her mind must be working at triple its already remarkable speed. “If I’m going to be around the city, and there’s no conflict of interest…”

He doesn’t entirely like the way it is turning into something neat and logical in front of him when he’s never felt anything close to that around her. He doesn’t like the way she looks tentative, pushing back against the edge of something more than caution - fear, perhaps, as if this might be a trick, as if the idea of allowing herself to crack open is unbearably terrifying, and it looks wrong on her face, so bold and familiar, he never wants to see that expression there again. He reaches out across the space, and when she reaches back, he takes her hand.

“Kate,” he says. “You are the most infuriating person I’ve ever known and possibly the smartest, you are wildly, overly principled and somehow make me want to be the same, you never let me have a moment’s peace, I can’t stop thinking about you, and I’d like to go on a date with you.”

“Well, that does sum things up nicely, Anthony,” she tells him, and despite herself, he can see a little snatch of a smile just there, the warmth growing in her eyes as they look right into him, the fear working its way from her. Still, she tries for nonchalance as she says, “My contract with the campaign doesn’t end until Friday. We can do Saturday night, if you’re up for it.”

He’s up for it. He takes her out Saturday night for dinner, hides a smile as she pokes fun at his shoes, gets into an argument with her about education funding, and goes to bed more distracted by a half hour of pressing her against her front door (and then onto her sofa for another twenty minutes) than he has any right to be considering he isn’t fourteen. He spends Sunday night with her too, and on Monday they go to see a movie they both hate but can’t stop talking about, and he is fairly certain he is going to spend essentially every night with her for the rest of his life.

It isn’t peaceful - and only likely to get busier once they both really get back to work - and her dog is a nuisance and Colin tries to take credit for the whole thing, and they’re so happy that neither of them cares.

#Bridgerton #Bridgerton fic #Anthony Bridgerton #Kate Sheffield #kathony #(is that what we're calling them?)#Kate/Anthony

20 notes · View notes

ruubles · 3 years ago

Text

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 7,234

“It has been quite some time since I was last in this room, four years if my memory serves me correctly.” (Y/N)’s hands entwined themselves with one another, nails digging harshly into the subtly soft skin along the back of her hand. Across the table were numerous pairs of eyes trailed along every movement as if at any moment she would seize the opportunity to kill. If it had been back before her leave, then perhaps she would’ve taken the gamble and gone for such a kill; But time has its way of weakening even the strongest of wills

“I believe you’re right. The last meeting you attended was just before you had taken the position in Russia.” There was no helping the sharp laugh that scratched through her throat, bleeding into the air as if it were a snarl from a wild beast. Ogai quirked an eyebrow as he took his rightful spot at the head of the table, it was as though he hadn’t remembered that day the same as she had.

It had been merely a week after Oda’s passing and without Dazai, Mori knew of no way to keep her ability under his control: Everyone in the Port Mafia was under high pressure with the sudden disappearance of an executive. The people under her command during that time must have informed Ogai of a sudden increase in impulsive decisions because before there was time to fix it she had been called to his office. There wasn’t room for objection when he informed (Y/N) of her new position, a reassignment to the Russian wing of the mafia effective immediately. That same night she was on a plane flying two thousand miles away from the only home she’d ever known.

That was four years ago and the most that had been heard from the boss were small orders spread thinly across the months, each one less and less specified until he had eventually stopped communication all together. It had been for the better benefits of both parties, without Ogai constantly looking over her shoulder she was truly able to help the mafia flourish and even go as far as berading the Russian Mafia into equal standing. Without the threat of her abilities looming in his ranks, Mori had taken over a large deal of the weapons smuggling in Japan which in turn had nearly doubled the yearly profits.

“Taking the position would imply that it had been offered, where I am certain it had been ordered. You hadn’t given me the choice to stay or to go before you handed me an executive order and told me to make my way to the headquarters.” Their gazes met from across the table, his eyes as cold as the continuous fall of snow that occured on a daily basis in Russia. Her words seemed to have sparked a memory in his steelin eyes, glossing them over as he recalled what the happenstance for her leave had been.

Russia wasn’t that bad of a place, it was actually quite the opposite once she had managed to sort through the chaos that was the mafia. It had only taken a month to reclaim almost all of the Far East and once that area was under her command, SIberia was quick to follow suit. Though Ural had been a warzone for a year before they managed to snuff out any traces of the Russian Mob, but by defying odds, they managed to come out of it with the lesser amount of casualties. As of now there are attempts to make connections in Volga, though it is slow moving since the mob seemed to know every move that had been planned to make. The northwestern, central, and north regions are still under the unwavering control of the mob: People loyalties didn’t seem to change even as they watched the rise in strength of the Port Mafia.

Southern Russia was a whole different tale for both sides. It was a no man's land filled to the brim with rats. No matter how long they fought with the mob, both sides had come to terms with the liabilities faced with the presence of such insullant people in what had been claimed as their land. Both could kill each other ruthlessly for months, but in the end they’d both agreed that the destruction of Dostoevsky was to come first and foremost: He posed a greater threat even with such slim numbers.

“My apology, it must have slipped my mind at some point since your departure. It was quite a hectic time for us all.” Ogai lowered his gaze, no longer holding that insufferable chill but instead what resembled some sorts of regret. For the seven years (Y/N) had been working under him, she hadn’t seen him hold such a sorrowful look since the Dragon’s Head Conflict. Even then it was more ruth than regret, he hadn’t been sorry for the lives that were lost but for those who survived to hold their memory. Ogai Mori focused on the future and honored those that had paid for it with their lives, he hadn’t time to mourn their passing.

“Hectic is an understatement. It was chaotic.” Her hands fiddled with the fork, a chunk of chocolate cake still sitting soundly on its tip. It had nearly forgotten as they’d moved to a topic she’d tried so desperately to forget. Now it seemed to be the only thing that could capture her attention. “Any word on Dazai? Last time he and I spoke was before Oda’s death and then he was gone.”

“He resurfaced two years ago working under the Armed Detective Agency.” Ogai seemed delighted to change the topic, but he wanted even more to return to why she’d been brought back to Japan. He wouldn’t be as rude as to force the conversation to go back to it but eventually they'd need to delve deeper into the issue they were facing. For now, a sense of normality should be rebuilt to keep everybody in the organization calm.

“Yukichi been giving you a hard time Ogai?” Yukichi Fukuzawa and Mori Ogai had both done a large favor for her shortly after she’d agreed to work under the mafia’s guidance, though the two fought for opposing goals. Her situation had managed to bring them to a mutual point of interest- one that brought reward for both parties involved. If it hadn’t been for their aid then both her and Isaac would likely be far different people than the ones who work so diligently to protect the few things they’d managed to so selfishly cling to for these years. “That old man is as hard headed as ever I assume. It must be difficult for any of you to make any progress in furthering your goals.”

Ogai nodded and with nimble fingers took off his gloves, the white material slipping off digit after digit to reveal the pale skin that seemed to radiate with a grim promise of light. If it wasn’t for the blood that stained them red he would surely be seen as an angel. Usually Mori preferred to keep his gloves on, but in the presence of someone who could now be considered of equal status it was more so a show of distrust. This was his motion to return the conversation to the topic that has been standing still in the room, even if we diverted the people’s ears to something else their minds would still be clouded with the possibility of losing their abilities. A simple gesture that spoke so much if you had the skill that was required to read the motions of other people. She had been taught that skill for longer than I could remember, it had become more of a curse than a blessing.

“Everyone’s been briefed on the bare minimum of the situation we’re facing and I’d like to know if you could add anything to it (Y/N).” Mori had already given as much as he knew of what they are up against and finding more was difficult to say the least. Information brokers had their loyalties but fear outweighed even the motion of getting paid for a job, but that fear gave hints as to who exactly could manufacture a drug like this one.

(Y/N) put the final piece of cake down, it had been on her fork for several minutes and yet she hadn’t found the heart to take the final bite. So many thoughts had found their way into her mind and dug into scorned memories that it made it difficult to even consider stomaching the delicious sweets from Ms.Young’s bakery.

Information was an important detail when it came to dealing with any affair, but finding any regarding this new threat would be more difficult than anyone could have thought. Assumptions made by (Y/n) always had a habit of playing out in one way or another. but with something so dangerous threatening to cut at our numbers, it was important that they worked more on fact than fiction.

“I’ve contacted seven brokers in the past twelve hours, none of them have any news on this drug you’re talking about. If it actually does exist then it’s a miracle you even found out about.” She grabbed the papers she’d brought with her and pushed the near finished plate of cake to the side. Fingers ran along the edges of the sheets filled with useless nonsense that wouldn’t help formulate even the simplest of plans. “Mori I need you to be honest with me, how did you find out about this drug.”

“One of our members got shot during a raid this week.” Her eyes moved up from the paperwork to the elder man sitting by Koyo, Ryuro Hirotsu. The black lizards were skilled members of the Port Mafia so being able to take down one of their members was an accomplishment to say the least. “Whoever manufactured that type of bullet knew what they were doing: She had completely lost her ability within five minutes of it being administered.”

“Where are they now?”

“Gone. Assassinated in her own home last night .” Everyone in the room could practically feel the anger radiating from Tachihara, his fists clenched the edge of the table as he gave his enraged answer. The Mafia was seen as cruel and heartless but even they cared for the lives of their members, their friends. Even people like (Y/N) who hadn’t found a close comrade would still take the time to learn the names and faces of those they would be working with: She herself had taken several hours to do so last night in hopes of knowing the majority of the people who would be attending this meeting.

A deep sigh rasped through her chest, chipping at the calm demeanor she’d managed to hold to since her return. Her head fell back and a loud smack was heard as it came into contact with the wooden back of the chair. Things never seemed to work out in favor of the young executive: You could see as such by the way her (E/C) eyes flickered with such hopeless pain and then returned to their usual gravely glare.

Chuuya watched his new partner with interest, his curiosity from last night now coming to a peak as he learned new bits of information about the woman who he’d only briefly spoken with. It seemed as though she was on good enough terms with Mori but that still didn’t gain his trust: In his line of work, it was important to hold his hand close to his chest as to not allow any scurrilous people to see who he’d become close with. For now he would hold his complaints with an overstrung tongue until she did what he expected from anyone who came close nowadays; Leave him to rot without a second thought as to how much of a pain it would be to fill the void they’d created.

“Have you moved the body?” Her head still remained laxed as she asked the question, addressing it to anyone who had an answer to give. It was as though such simple words had deflated her hopes, jabbing at any resilient confidence that she’d held to throughout the restless night.

“No.” Tachihara was quick to answer with a stern but simple response that left no room for doubt.

“There it is.” (Y/N) leaned forward, (H/L) hair masking her face in a cascading shadow. Her eyes trailed along the table as though she was placing pieces of a puzzle together, each one falling into its designated place as all those sitting around Mori’s table awaited her explanation. Chuuya leaned forward in anticipation to hear what this new comrade was saying. “The first lead.”

Around the table people collected their ideas and made harsh implications as to who exactly this mystery executive was. Out of the dozen people sitting solemnly in the room, only three had any prior knowledge of her and they made the correct decision not to hold a crude attitude towards her. Mori had, of course, known of (Y/N) for the longest time of the three: Having met her when she was only fifteen, several months after he’d taken the place of the former boss. Kouyou had shared little words with her but knew of her abilities to maintain such a high position in the mafia with what seemed to her as little effort. Hirotsu had merely known her name and had been tasked with keeping her under guard until this meeting, though he had ultimately failed, seeing as she managed to slip away only an hour after their first conversation.

(Y/N) pushed her chair away with a loud screech that seemed to push away the silence still filling the room. Her hands made deft work of the paper, their corners aligning in mere seconds as she ran her hands along their sides. The final piece of cake still laid untouched on the plate that now sat abandoned atop the table. Without a second glance, she turned, (E/C) eyes set sharply on the door, feet moving with gentle clicks of her heel; Her motions could be deemed practiced as she so confidently strode away from some of the most heinous criminals in the city. “Do you fear me?”

The room's quizzing thoughts seemed to come to a stop all at once, everyone’s eyes drifting back to the woman who was only inches from the door. Chuuya was prepared to follow her from the room, as they were now partners, but he stayed still with a significant interest in what she was saying. Of course she hadn’t meant to address any of those around the room as they had seen nothing of what abilities she truly possessed; Mori had.

“With your vehement skills I doubt there are many who do not fear for their life in your presence. I’ve been lucky to keep your loyalties under my reign, so I will not make the mistake of giving an answer to this question.” Mori stood, gloved hands folded behind his back in an almost arrogant manor. “I must commend how powerful you are (Y/N). Far beyond what I’d expected when I’d first had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Her laugh was gentle, like the crimson petals of a rose dripping with fresh morning dew in the fields of Elysium. It was a pleasant sound that caught any person’s ear and forced their head to her. “You are far more reserved than many of the people I’ve met in my lifetime, but I quite like that quality. Mori Ogai, may your rule over the mafia be beneficial to this city.”

Without another word, she left.

~ x ~

Chuuya hesitantly looked over to the passenger of his car, his vermillion eyes trapped by her hunched figure. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned over the passing city, lights twinkling in the gloomy darkness of the night. The two hadn’t spoken to one another since (Y/N) had made her departure from the meeting; Their current situation had come about when she’d seen Chuuya leaving and he motioned for her to join him. He’d had a plan to speak with her but the silence that followed his gracious offer had swatted away that idea near instantaneously

This scenario hadn’t gone to either of their likings, Chuuya had wanted to go alone without the burden of another partner weighing him down. Yet when he saw her standing still in the setting light, waiting for something, he had the urge to strike up what would hopefully be another exhilarating conversation. Perhaps that was his desire to know who he’d be working with in these coming days in fear that they would become someone similar to his last partner.

On the other hand, (Y/N) didn’t mind either way if he were to accompany her or not. She’d been standing before the mafia’s headquarters waiting for a car that Mori claimed would pick her up soon, but after ten minutes she’d given up hope and decided instead to join Chuuya. Personally, she’d wished to make her way to the scene as soon as she’d left the meeting, but Mori hadn’t given her the go ahead until the sun began to set. It had been an annoying situation in her opinion but with the added hours of recreational time she’d managed to check-in with the mafioso who’d taken to running the Russian portion of the Port Mafia in her absence. Everything was going according to plan, which would mean that hopefully she’d be flying back to Russia within the week.

A quiet ring fluttered through the stifling silence but neither of them made a move for their phones. Chuuya could see his dark screen, without any sign of contact from his underlings. He knew it had to be her who was receiving a call but never did she move to answer; Instead her eyes, hollow and void, stayed trailed on the passing buildings. Soon those towering works of architecture would turn to natural tree’s of a forest as they neared their destination. After several minutes, the phone’s ring stopped only to start a moment later.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached into her pocket and pulled the phone to where she could see it. Her hands made quick work to silence the ringer but she didn’t ignore the call. Instead she pressed the answer button and brought the device to her ear. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Isaac was quick to the point, annoyance obvious in the way his loud words stabbed through her ear. Chuuya heard mumbled shouts through the line but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. “Dinner’s ready and I’ve yet to even receive a message from you, so I’m going to make the assumption that you haven’t even left the office yet.”

“I’ve left the office.” (Y/N)’s eyed the street as Chuuya made a sharp right turn, it was a clean motion that made it clear he was well acquainted with his car. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. Mori has me doing some recon with a new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Isaac snapped through the phone, she could only imagine the look of anger that had likely appeared on his face from her honest claim. Her plan had been to take her time checking out the scene then be back to town in time for Isaac to take her home, but Mori had put her in a bit of disposition. Instead, it was late and she wouldn’t be back in town for a while. “If I had my ability connected to you then I’d drag you here myself, but I guess this can’t be helped. You better make it up to them though; Disappointing me is a usual occurrence for you but they deserve more than that.”

Chuuya felt a bit bad as he could see the tiredness on her face and he knew that whoever was shouting on the other end of the line wasn’t helping. He watched as she took a deep breath, chest beginning to rise and fall in a pattern. “I’ll find a way. Have a nice night.”

Not long after she’d wish him a nice night did Isaac hang up the phone, two beeps signaling the ending of the phone call. She pocketed the device and leaned into the window once more, heat from her body causing fog to slowly creep along the once clear glass. Chuuya opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, but there was little he could think to say as he watched her dissociate from her surrounding environment. Part of him believed she was naive, joining him in his car without even asking a question and the way she trusted him enough to turn her back to him in such a confined space, but he didn’t see her reflection. Though the latter was far different, her eyes had been glued to his reflection in the window from the moment she’d situated herself in his passenger seat; She waited for the moment he’d make an attempt to do something, anything, but it never came.

“Thank you for the ride.” It had taken a half hour for either of them to brave past the awkwardness inside the car and her tone was quiet as if she didn’t truly want to say them, but Chuuya took the moment to continue on.

“It’s no problem, I’d just finished up some paperwork and thought you could use a ride if we’re going to the same place. We are going to the same place, right?” The sudden realization hit that he hadn’t a clue where she wanted to go and he wanted to be sure that their destination was agreed upon. “The crime scene?”

(Y/N) chuckled at his distressed words, “That would be correct.”

Once again a silence overtook the car, their momentary conversation coming to an end after only a short share of sentences. (Y/N) had taken to her phone, it's screen alight as she scrolled through what seemed to be countless messages. After several minutes of reading she began to click away a very sternly worded message to one of her subordinates. Chuuya went back to driving, his eyes ever so often glancing at his GPS to ensure he was still driving in the right direction.

“You never answered my question.” (Y/N) slammed her phone down on her lap and Chuuya pretended not to notice her obvious anger. Chuuya quirked a brow at her question, head turning to meet her (E/C) eyes in the darkness. She was obviously tired with the way her eyes sunk into her skull and the bags presented them self so sternly. “Did you enjoy the wine?”

“Oh. Yeah, I did. It was quite the bottle, didn’t think I’d be drinking anything that fancy last night.” His face turned sour at an unpleasant memory. “Also didn’t think I’d be drinking as disgusting as the one your friend offered me.”

“In Isaac’s defense, I did ask him for the shittiest bottle he had on the shelf. Apparently it’s the one he gives to people he doesn’t like.” She smiled and turned her phone over when a message made the screen turn on once again. “Might explain why he gave it to me.”

“I thought you two looked close, was my assumption of friends not correct?”

(Y/N) dropped her head, skull smacking against the headrest as she let out a bitter laugh once again. “Isaac and I are a lot more than friends, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t hate him a majority of the time. He’s quite pretentious.”

“You’re different from that woman I met last night; More uptight, scrutinous. That woman who stole my hat wouldn’t have asked a mafia boss if he was scared of her.”

“What can I say, I have many different faces. Same could be said for you Mr.Nakahara.” (Y/N) jabbed at his last name, using a formality that he didn’t truly enjoy. Not many called him by his last name, though it was seen as informal in Japan, and he preferred it that way. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when you were yelling at that young man in the hallway this morning.”

Chuuya’s face fell as he recalled this morning's events: The hangover had only heightened his senses and formed a brutal knot that attacked his head throughout the day. While on his way to the meeting he’d had a run-in with a newer mafioso who had purposely bumped shoulders with Chuuya thinking he was better than the executive himself. That had ended in quite the outburst on the executives half, it had been loud but it got the point across. Disrespect was intolerable in Chuuya’s eyes and the ache in his head had only been nurtured by the yelling he’d done, so of course his anger at the newer member only increased as the day went on. He knew it was wrong but there was little he’d have done differently.

“He was a little punk.” Chuuya grumbled.

They both fell back into a silence, but it no longer rang with an unsaid tension or insatiable curiosity. Instead it seems to flutter with a peaceful wisp of camaraderie as both parties came to a mutual understanding: Neither of them wanted to be partners but until they could find a way out of this arraignment, they might as well do the bare minimum and get along with one another. It would be better not to build any new alliances to the core of the port mafia considering as soon as this was solved, (Y/N) would be flying back to Russia and likely wouldn’t maintain contact with anyone she’d met during her time here.

Finally, after what seemed to span the length of hours, Chuuya made the final turn into a large driveway. Whoever had passed was surely paid well during their time at the mafia. The driveway was circular, encasing a large tree with withered branches that seemed to scratch the star filled sky. Two cars were parked in front of a large house that seemed to hold remnants of classical French architecture, several hints of Japanese style building melded nicely with the classical look. It stood tall, enclosed by shorter surrounding trees, but it was still welcoming; Every part of it held a feeling of home as if someone had spent their whole life building wonderful memories inside the building.

(Y/N) was the first to leave the car, not waiting for any gestures of chivalry from the man who had been kind enough to drive her so far from the city. She’d realized quite a long time ago that people would do the bare minimum to help you but would ask for the world in return. Chuuya was quick to follow her lead, hand working to take the key from the ignition before leaving his car and being sure to lock it. The two walked fairly far from one another, their eyes wandering in case there were any unwarranted guests still lurking in the area.

The steps to the front door were quickly scaled, Chuuya using an unnecessary amount of his ability to propel himself up the half a dozen stone stairs. (Y/N) took the steps in pairs and in a moment was standing beside her newly assigned partner: Her eyes began to wander along his body, gathering every bit of his appearance to her memory- from the choker wrapped snugly around his neck and down to the slight heels of his boots. A light red coated his feet for a moment before eventually dissipating; She was left to assume it was his ability, Gravity Manipulation.

She’d spent her night researching the many new people who’d been taken to working under Mori in her absence; Many of them had dark and depressing tales, but she didn’t judge for her’s wasn’t much better. Instead she took note of which part of their past might have pushed them to be considered a vain and villainous member of the Port Mafia: Motives often told if someone would inevitably betray you. Yet the most elusive of them all seemed to be her partner himself, even if he were an executive she should still have had access to any documentation of his early life. Nothing. No mention of a family, no close friends, no reason to live a life like this.

All she got from an hour of scouring documents was his ability, an address, and several mission reports that when looked at through her perspective made little to no sense. Perhaps if she had been closer with Dazai around that time frame then some parts of it would have made more sense: King of Sheep, Arahabaki, Rando. Her only connections to Dazai during those few years were their shared title of executive, several miniature missions during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and Oda. None of it had made for long, friendly conversations; She was much like him in some ways, never attending the meetings where she might have met Chuuya, but unlike him she never was one to take to a partner or a trainee. Another person would only get in her way.

She was a shadow, faceless to all but those closest to her, feared by those who knew of her power: Mori made sure that her true identity remained furtive. One thing every person opposing the Mafia knew was that trust was never an option, it would only take a single wrong assumption before they’d be stabbed in the back by what was thought to be their friend. Once the Dragon’s Head Conflict had come to an end anybody who knew of her true identity had gone missing under what is still considered ‘Mysterious Circumstances’, of course there were several who still knew what she was capable of but those were the people that there was no need to kill: They were either an ally or to far in her past to matter during that time.

Lost in thought, she was only returned when Chuuya attempted to open the door, soon to realize that it remained locked, a disappointed groan rasped through his chest. He had thought that whoever had been here last might’ve had the common sense to leave it unlocked for when the next investigators were to arrive. The house didn’t officially have an address so supposedly the only people who knew of it were those in the mafia; Well now that list would also include whoever had taken her life. Perhaps it was best that they didn’t have a way into the building, it was very late and (Y/N) seemed to be tiring rather quickly. Chuuya was in a similar stance, his vermilion eyes sunken with the pain of an unending headache.

“Well this is a major bust.” Chuuya made a turn and began to make his way back to his car, its black nearly hiding it in the darkness of the night. After a moment he realized that the presence beside him was missing as (Y/N) still stood rooted to her spot before the large doors. The two waited in silence, Chuuya’s eyes on her and her eye’s on the door blocking her from completing the job.

(Y/N) reeled her leg back, jumpsuit clutching to every inch of her body except for her hands and face- (S/C) fingers balled into fists as she prepared for the incoming impact to the door, face rigid with seriousness but still being just as beautiful as it had been gleaming in the bar light. She was the definition of perfect with a body handcrafted by whatever god pulled the strings of life, it was strange to see how all her little imperfections came together to make something so stunning. Chuuya hadn’t time to admire any of that, instead his focus remained on the fact that she had only the need for a single kick to take the doors down. Their hinges creaked under the force before the doors well flat to the ground with a loud thud.

“No need for a door if she’s dead.” Her words would come off as heartless to anyone, but Chuuya understood what she meant by it. To the latter it was merely her way of saying that they’d come this far and without anyone living inside the building there wasn’t much of a need for a door anymore. Perhaps he should have been angry with the way that she’d worded it, so cruel to a fallen friend of his, but there wasn’t a need to strike an argument over something so trivial. He understood well enough that people in this line of work weren’t ones to usually feel remorse at the loss of a life.

She was first to enter the house, not waiting for her partner to say anything more as she set out to find the truth as to what exactly was the reason behind her return. Mori had given her little information and no broker in the city seemed to know anything so the last hope was dissecting the body of their fallen comrade. Of course she felt forlorn, she hadn’t known this woman but yet was asking her to sacrifice her body for the sake of others. (Y/N) had killed, there was no denying that, but even after all the lives she’d taken, she still wasn’t numb.

Numbness would only succumb when the light of her own eyes dwindled from its constant flicker to a mere ashy stare. Hundreds have died at her hand and she felt little remorse, but every person was like a scar- digging their scared nails across her skin as she killed without mercy. The first scratch always hurts the worst but with every new person falling to their knees before her, the pain slowly begins to fade; But it was still there, in the very depths of her mind. After so many years she might as well just be considered numb; Her dither long since gone and any guilt for the torutre she’d put people through had slowly leaked from her mind as if it were an open drain. Their lives meant little to her, only stepping stools to allow her to climb to her status at the top.

The house was dark, itching with a silence that crept along the corners in fear of being smothered by rattling steps. Chuuya noticed the uneasy air as he walked mere steps behind (Y/N), it was as though the silence itself had taken a conscious form and was preparing to strangle them in a single moment. Their steps mixed to one in a dance of paired solitude and both their breaths seemed to do the same: In seperate bodies they became one to make the sounds of their presence near indistinguishable. In that moment their minor disagreements had faded and they became a team made in heaven but fallen to the hellish life of the mafia. If anyone were to still be in that house then their life would likely soon be ended.

(Y/N) was the first to come to the end of the hall, her steps coming to a halt in a matter of seconds as she scanned the large open area. The hall they passed through had only been twenty paces through the door, meaning that whoever had broken in to commit the crime had either been very quiet or came in via a different route. They had passed several doors along their way but nothing inside them had caught her attention; An office in pristine shape with papers stacked high atop its glimmering wooden surface, a closet only half full of shoes and clothing that likely belonged to a mixture of genders, and a bathroom with a set of standard mission clothes laying on its tile floor. In her mind (Y/N) could see what had happened that night: She had entered her home and quickly stripped from her blood soaked clothing, as for the rest she would likely find more the further she explored the house.

Whoever this woman had been, she had quite the taste in architecture. The hall led into an area that seemed to act as a living room of sorts, a couch and television situated by a large wall of windows. On the other side of the glass was a large garden with paths leading further into the depths of its secrets. To the left was a floating staircase that led to the second story and to the right was a kitchen, only separated from the living room by a marble island.

“I’ll search upstairs and you can take it down here.” Chuuya pushed by (Y/N) as he spoke, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. He doubted that anyone was still in the house, even if there were then they likely knew of their presence, but being cautious in these times would not only keep himself safe but his partner as well. “If you need help then don’t be afraid to call.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the depths of the darkness. Standing alone in the center of the house made her surroundings feel so much larger, the space behind her was no longer radiated with warmth. Upstairs she could hear the creak of the floorboards as Chuuya walked down the halls, (Y/N) focused her sights on the kitchen and slowly crept over. Her hand ran along the smooth white walls and finally, upon stepping foot on the kitchen tiles, she felt the light panel beneath her fingers.

She flipped the switch and the light hanging from the ceiling lit the room with a brightness that not even the moon could provide at this hour. Without the darkness lingering through the air (Y/N) was finally able to properly see the area around her. It was sparkling and clean, pristine as though it had been cleaned thoroughly the day before. No blood, no body, and certainly no danger. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

(Y/N) could see the splatter of blood drenching the cushions of the light gray sofa, the red looked almost black from so far away but she knew the truth behind it. When blood is dried then it darkens and the stain is likely to never be clean from the surface. The woman had rid herself of her blood stained clothes and used a towel to wash away the visible streaks on her skin (It was impossible to erase the ones along her soul) and had rested upon the couch to recuperate from such a burdensome mission; Then she had been killed. Mori had said the body would be covered with a sheet in preparation of dissection, but yet there was no sheet in sight.

Someone had been here long before their arrival, and that person was no friend of the mafia. Whoever had come here and disturbed the scene had taken the body as to prevent any information from being extracted: With the blood having been left out for so long there was likely little remaining information to be collected from it. The body was gone and so were any of the leads that had been left with it. The only hope they had now was if those that had discovered the body before them had been wise enough to at least collect some samples of their DNA.

(Y/N) sighed and left the kitchen, light still fluttering throughout the bottom most floor of the house. Her feet clicked gently against the wooden floors as she slowly walked towards the blood stained couch. The blood clashed violently with the white cushions and it was obvious that her death had been the cause of blood loss, one large pool and several surrounding droplets proposed the idea of a knife wound rather than a gunshot.

She turned away from the stain in an almost defensive manner and scanned the rest of the area, eyes clawing through the darkness searching for something that wasn’t quite there. “Did you find anything down here?”

“Missing body. Cause of death likely a knife wound.” Chuuya jumped down the last two steps and stalked towards her, hands in his pocket. He walked past her and to the couch, his hand trailing along the top of the cushion and down to the stain.

“You figured all of that out from a couple of blood stains?” He nearly chuckled at the confidence that laced itself through her analyses.

“If it were poison there wouldn’t have been a blood stain. Gunshot wounds would be more splattered and less centered around a focal point. Whether it be a stab or a slice across the neck, a knife would cause the blood to drip to a specific point. It’s simple enough logic.” (Y/N) wasn’t paying attention to Chuuya as she spoke, her explanation dripping methodically from her mouth as her (E/C) eyes locked onto something.

The back doors gleamed with reflections of the kitchen's light, but through that bright light were shadows. Dark and dripping with mystery they encased the gazebo in an unnatural darkness. Chuuya continued to talk about what they were to do now, but his words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N)’s hand reached for the door handle. With one hard pull the door slid to the side and made an opening more than large enough for her to pass through. It seemed as though Chuuya hadn’t noticed as he continued to look around the lower floor to look at the stains on the couch.

With little hesitation, (Y/N) left the warmth of the house's walls and stepped into the cold breeze of the autumn outdoors. Her shoes had a different click as they went from the hardwood floor to a pathway of large rocks. The backyard was large and spiraled with countless flowers that danced in the moonlight, hundreds of bushes that still seemed to bloom even in the coming winter. Rows of Lilacs scatter around, their purple clashing violently with the numerous roses bushes scatter about, the red petals dancing with the color of blood and making (Y/N) cringe. They were such beautiful flowers, but they lulled people in with their beauty and then painted their petals red with their victims blood.

The closer she stepped to the gazebo, the more she noticed the shadows retreating as her eyes adjusted to the environment. Finally she was able to see what she had actually caught sight of from the house.

A head, severed from its body laid in a small pool of dried blood, far less than there should have been. It was clear that the head was from the victim, her long hair was matted with blood and the area where her neck met the concrete had gnarled skin and cuts that had scabbed with dried blood. Her eyes were open, glossed over as though she were still alive and trapped in a trance. Her mouth was slightly agape, trails of blood running from the corners of her mouth and down her face.

#bungou sd #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs kouyou #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #chuuuya #chuuya nakahara #tw alchohol mention #violence #blood #gore #xreader #reader insert #bsdxreader #mori ougai #port mafia #chuuya x reader #chuuyaxreader #chuuya nakahara x reader

15 notes · View notes

random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Blow Out that Cherry Bomb for Me {Incubus!Synyster Gates Oneshot}

This is based on a special request by anonymous. This is the sequel to ‘Devil’s Gonna Get You if I Don’t First.’

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2304 Summary: Even while distanced from one another, a relationship with an incubus can be interesting. Notes: Smut, swearing.

Synyster was glued to his phone every minute that he wasn’t busy working. Being on tour was usually the ride of his life, going through different cities and meeting tons of different people. But all that he could think about was being back home - back to his girlfriend. It had gotten to the point where the band had to have a talk with him about bringing his phone onto the stage, just in case she was to text. It fucked with the performance, because you’d pull it out between songs. It wasn’t fair to the rest of the band, and it really wasn’t fair to the audience. So it was only when they were on the road that he was looking at his phone, always keeping it charged. Barely interacting with anyone. They left him alone though - an incubus in love can be a very moody creature.

He was laying in his bunk, playing Solitaire, waiting for Tessa to call once she got off of work. The game went black for a second, and then her picture came up, along with her name. He grinned as he saw the picture of the two of them - despite seeing it multiple times a day, it never grew old. Lying together on the sands of Huntington Beach, her grinning face, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses. His own grin, the infamous hat perched on his head. Memories of an amazing day.

“Hey babe,” He said, picking up the call before the second ring could go through. He heard her struggling to take off her shoes. Those familiar little grunts that he knew so well. “Just get home?”

“Yeah,” Tessa sighed. “It’s been a long day, Syn. Gods, I wish that you were here. I need those magical hands to work a massage on me.”

Synyster smirked, closing the curtains to isolate the others from himself. They didn’t need to see what he had planned. “That bad? Run yourself a bath, love, and tell me about it.”

“I will - once I get these - damn - shoes off!” Tessa grunted, finally undoing the strap and slipped her feet out of the heels that she had been wearing for work. She let out a sigh of relief, and though it was just a small one, it was enough to get Synyster hard. As an incubus, he was already to go - and as her lover, every little thing that she did was able to turn him on.

He chuckled lowly, imagining Tessa stretching out her toes after having them be cramped all day. With his eyes closed, he could swear that he could imagine it.

Tessa started to talk about her day, though Synyster’s ears were straining to hear what was going on around her. Her feet passing across the carpet of the living room. The keys dropping into the bowl near the door. Her bag being set down on the couch. The coat hangers swinging as she hung her coat up. And then finally, the water being started in the bathtub.

“Do you need me to talk to your boss for you?” Synyster asked, once Tessa finally wrapped up her retelling of the day. “Because I’ll gladly make a call, and then fly you out to meet me.”

“I can’t just quit my job,” Tessa sighed. He could imagine her putting her smooth hand into the water, swirling it between her fingers, checking to see that it was the right temperature. And then the sound of a cap being opened. “As much as I would love to some days...”

“What kind of bubble bath are you using?” Synyster asked, cutting her off before she could go into further depression about not loving her job. He could even hear the liquid soap being poured into the water.

“Lavender,” Synyster told him. “And I’m throwing in some bath salts too. It really has been a long day. If I don’t destress, I think I might actually explode.”

“Don’t fall asleep in there,” Synyster advised. “You know how lavender affects you.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He could picture her smile now, the one that he thought was better than any model’s in a toothpaste commercial.

“Tessa - do me a favor.” Synyster commanded. It wasn’t a request - and so Tessa didn’t take it as one. She made a noise of affirmation. “When you get in the bath, think of me. Say my name. But only once you’re relaxed, okay?”

“Yes, Syn,” She agreed. He tapped his scree to end the call, and rested back against his pillow, eyes still closed, thinking of Tessa, and only Tessa. After a couple of minutes, he started to feel a tingling through his body, and the pictures in his imagination grew more and more intense. He could see her perfectly - her hair tied up out of her face, her head leaning back against the wall, her legs stretched out, nice and soapy. She was saying his name, like he had told her to do. Summoning him to her. It was time to make her day a whole lot better.

It was really like he was there with her, though his form couldn’t be seen. But it could be felt, if he focused hard enough, and managed to conjure up her own sexual energy. He started at her shoulders, rubbing them, pressing kisses onto her neck, just hard enough for her to feel. She moaned his name, and tried to push her shoulders back to feel him even more. It was building inside of him. He was becoming more heavy, though still could not be seen since he was not really there.

He then went on to fondle her breasts, which were sitting just below the water. It may have been warm due to the heat but he pulled on her nipples until they were hard, like she was sitting on an iceberg. “Oh fuck - Syn...” She said, adjusting herself in the tub.

Everytime that she moaned his name, or even thought about him, his own powers seemed to grow. That sexual energy had to go somewhere, and it went straight to him. As long as he was the one being thought about. He joined her in the bath, though the water didn’t so much as ripple or rise. He kissed along her collar bone, still playing with those beautiful breasts that he missed so much. He wished he could really taste the saltiness of her skin, but alas - his powers didn’t extend to that.

His hands went further down, until they were between her legs, to that magical place he loved. Yes - he would admit, he loved her and every inch of her body. At the feeling of his touch, Tessa shot up, sitting straight rather than slouching. “Are you here with me?” She asked, but he could not muster up a sound in response. He just kept exploring, touching her naked flesh. Going down her legs with his fingers, to the very tip of her toes. The straps from her shoes had cut into her flesh, leaving lines, which he was determined to massage away.

She settled back down, feeling safe under his touch. She knew that it had to be him. That no other incubus could affect her in this way because she had been claimed. She bore his mark, right on her hip. The deathbat with the fedora hat was tattooed, the ink a startling contrast to her otherwise unmarred skin. It only helped to further strengthen the bond between the two of them. Without it - he wouldn’t be able to be here like this. He would have gone mad if he had gone on tour and wasn’t able to have any of these visits.

He was able to influence her thoughts, but he could not control them. The more turned on that she got, the more power that he had with you. ‘Relax,’ He whispered to her, and watched as her body became less rigid, and she sunk back into the water once more. Now that she knew that it was him, she was much more open to being touched. To be helped to forget the day. To just soak in everything.

He kissed his way from her feet, back up her calf, and to her thighs. And he stayed between there, nibbling at her skin, grinning at the giggles that he heard. They were like music to his ears. Definitely more melodious than anything Zacky could come up with on his guitar. He started to suck on the skin right on her inner thigh, bringing a moan back out of you. Fucking delicious.

His own thoughts started to go wild. He wouldn’t be able to fuck her like this, but there was plenty of other things that he could do. Get her off. That sounded like a great goddamn start. Though he couldn’t fully taste her, he buried his face between her legs now, his tongue getting to work. The benefit of that was that he also couldn’t taste the soap in the water. The downside was he missed her taste upon his tongue. He really meant that he would fly her out. He needed her - and soon. He felt like he was wilting without her. Like a man walking around in the desert, looking for water.

Tessa was trying to reach him, her hands going to the space where she could feel his head against her thighs, but her hands touched nothing. “You’re such a fucking tease,” She said, growing exasperated, and gave up. She just put her hands on the edge of the tub instead. She clutched at the porcelain, feeing every little flicker of his tongue.

It was a tease. Synyster agreed with that. All he wanted was to pick her up, sopping wet, and take her to bed. Sheets be damned. And fuck her until her face was as red as the sheets that he had picked out. Make her hot and sweaty with exertion - because the best way to relax was in the afterglow of a good fucking. Everyone knew that.

Tessa’s legs started to squirm under the water. Fuck, it was beautiful seeing her face like that. Pretty as a picture. Enough to make him feel the blood running to his cock back in his body.

All that he could think about was fucking her. So many dirty thoughts running through his mind. They went straight through to hers, and he found that she was speaking under her breath. Speaking his own thoughts aloud.

“Oh my god baby...” She said, chest heaving. “I want you so fucking bad. I miss the taste of your skin. I miss the feeling of you. I just want to sink in and never leave.”

It was interesting, and it made Synyster smirk. He pulled his head away, and went back to work with his fingers, rubbing her, while returning his lips to her chest. He kept his thoughts going, so she could hear them coming out of her own lips.

“I want to feel you squeeze around my cock, you dirty girl. I want to feel you deep, deep inside. I want to watch you take all of me. I want you to scream my name as you come for me, you filthy girl.” This all came out of her mouth. She seemed surprised to hear herself say all of these things, but it helped. She was getting close. Synyster could feel it.

His thoughts left her, and she was alone with her own. She started to moan out his name, louder - and louder - reaching a crescendo as he plunged two fingers inside of her. He curled them to reach her spot. To rub against her inner lining. His thumb kept rotating circles around her clit.

Tessa didn’t know what to cling to. In this type of situation, it would usually be him. But her hands couldn’t grasp so she just kept holding onto the sides of the tub as the feeling of climax came over her. She shuddered, arching her back in the warm water, her toes curling, her mouth gaping open.

And with Tessa’s orgasm, Synyster returned to his own body, only to reach his own. He had made the mistake of not taking his cock out of his pajamas when he went over to her, so now he made quite a big, and sticky mess. He groaned, and finally got out of his bunk to rummage around in his bags and change.

“Ha! Syn made a mess of himself!” Johnny said, seeing Syn waddle.

“Fuck off,” He muttered. He found a new pair of pajamas, went into the bathroom and changed. Once he was feeling a little more clean, he returned to his bunk, just in time to see Tessa’s face coming up on his phone again. His mood was no longer tainted, and he grew excited to pick up his phone. “Well, hello there, beautiful.”

“That was fucking hot,” Tessa said into the phone. He could hear the water going down the drain in the background. He bit down on his fist to stop himself from getting aroused at the thought of you in just a towel. “I didn’t know that you could do that.”

“I have many talents, and a lot of time to showcase them. I want there to be some surprises in the future.”

“Oh my fuck, I’m a lucky gal,” Tessa said. He imagined her grinning into the phone. Maybe playing with her hair. Fixing the towel as it split. He chuckled, and laid back down on his bunk, closing the curtains for more privacy.

“No, love, I’m the lucky one.”

#Synyster Gates #Synyster Gates oneshot #Avenged Sevenfold #Avenged Sevenfold oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #synysterg

26 notes · View notes