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Down the Rabbit Hole at the El Royale

A/N: Have I had this plot line rolling around in my head since I saw Bad Times in theaters years ago? Yes. Do I know this will get like twelve notes? Also yes. But I liked writing it. So, maybe you guys will enjoy reading it. Pairing: Miles Miller/F!Reader Word Count: 5.4k

Trigger Warnings: violence, organized crime, drug-use, war, murder—please do not read if any of this will upset you!

Summary: Five times Miles is excited to see you and the one time he wished he never met you OR a mysterious woman walks into the El Royale.

The first time Miles saw you, he had thought you were some sort of silver screen starlet, lost on her way to California. You walked in and pulled the silk scarf from around your hair before shoving it into the pocket of your coat. After filling a cup of coffee and grabbing one of the small packets of sugar and creamer, you walked to the front desk with a breezy smile that waned the smallest bit when you spotted him behind the desk.

“You’re new,” you said. It wasn’t a question. Your (pretty) eyes tracked to the nametag on his chest and nodded, as if his name suited him. Before he could say anything else, you placed a crisp ten dollar bill beneath the coffee and slid it toward him. “You look like you could use it.”

Heat tracked up Miles’ cheeks as he shyly took the cup and set it beneath the counter. He’d happily drink it later. “Let me get you your change,” he said, looking away, sure he could start a fire with the warmth burning on his face.

“Oh, get yourself a piece of pie with it. You look like a cherry guy. Am I right?” Leaning over the counter with another smile, Miles could smell your expensive perfume. Light and floral.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I do like it.”

That earned him a laugh as you leaned back. “Good. The guy before you liked pecan and only pecan. No taste whatsoever.”

You were distracting and beautiful and around his age, if he was willing to bet. And a repeat customer, apparently. He didn’t even need to tell you to sign the ledger before you asked for Room 3 in Nevada. You had the cash ready and you waved to him as you left, your high heels tapping lightly on the well-worn carpet before you disappeared. Miles waited for just a moment before grabbing at the ledger just to see your name. And there it was, just beneath the couple who had checked in two days ago.

Carole Lewis. He didn’t think the name suited you.

And then the phone in the back office rang. Miles was quick to answer it, already knowing what the low voice on the other end was going to ask. “Room 3. Nevada.” The line went dead before he could say anything. It always did. But just this once, Miles wanted to ask what you could possibly be doing to warrant being recorded. Maybe you actually were a starlet. Either way, Miles dragged his feet down the dark hallway and toward Room 3 and set a new reel in the camera pointed at your room. As the camera started to whirl, Miles let himself one moment of selfishness.

Just this once, just for a little, he wanted to look, too.

You opened your pristine suitcase and took out a small briefcase and set it on the small nightstand. You frowned, perfect lips pulling down at the corners before you glanced at the mirror as if feeling Miles’ stare. Then you moved the small bag on the nightstand just a fraction; making sure the broad side of it was tilted. As your fingers drifted across the case’s locks, your mouth twisted to the side and Miles would swear he saw tears in your eyes.

You were gone in the morning. The only trace of you was the faintest trace of your perfume in the air of your untouched room. The key to room 3 was tucked neatly back into the cupboard behind the desk as if you had never checked in at all.

The second time Miles saw you came a handful of weeks later. He had been expecting literally anyone else when he heard the front desk bell ding. But there you stood, just as beautiful as last time, with dangling diamond earrings and that same floral perfume. You also had a cup of coffee and a slice of pie from the machine for him. “I see you’re keeping the old place in good shape,” you said, with a smile. There was another ten dollar bill under the coffee. “I was a little worried they’d run you off.”

“Not yet,” he said, voice softer than he intended.

“Good. I’m selfishly happy I get to see a familiar face.” Your smile widened just a fraction and you once again asked for Room 3 in Nevada, handing over more cash for your stay. And he was once again tasked with setting up the camera outside your room. Again, you set a small briefcase on the nightstand and angled it strangely before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The tiny skirt of your dress rode up the slightest bit and Miles had to pull his eyes away from the long expanse of skin just on the other side of the glass.

That night, when he checked in a man and woman who were definitely married and not to each other, he checked the ledger. You had signed Dr. Mouse. He barely had the other couple out of the lobby before he saw your car, a powder blue Mercedes, roll out of the parking lot. When he went, selfishly–again, to check the camera pointed at your room, the small briefcase had been left behind. When he went to “clean” your room the next day, it was gone.

You had your secrets, too.

The third time Miles saw you came during the last snowfall of the season. It had been a few months since you had vanished from your room again and it seemed the months had brought you trouble. The familiar silk scarf and oversized sunglasses did little to disguise the swelling of your cheek and the cut he saw arcing over your brow. Your knuckles were wrapped beneath your gloves that you tucked into your thick coat’s pockets so you could hand over the money for the room.

“Still want Room 3?”

You smiled; it wasn’t as wide. Probably to avoid opening up the split on your lip. “You’re so good to me, Miles.”

He blushed and turned to grab the key, trying to ignore how his heart was inching its way up his throat. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly, the points of the Nevada keyring digging into his palm. “Is there anything I can-”

“You wanna know what happened?” You asked, looking at him over the edge of your sunglasses as he gave a jerky nod. Humming, you took the key from him and stood straight. “I hit something stupid.”

Yes. You had secrets. Miles was abundantly aware of that when he watched you sign “J. Abberwock.” He watched you walk away, another question on his tongue but he held back. He’d already overstepped. And he was sure he was going to be asked to spy on you again. He knew it. But when you paused at the door and turned back to him, he still hoped that you would say something. Anything.

“I may need a bit of cherry pie tonight. Want to join me?”

The phone rang in the back office but for the first time, Miles let it get to the second ring. “I-I’d like that.”

“Good. See you in an hour.” And, as promised, you appeared an hour later and bought several slices of cherry pie and a cup of coffee of Miles.

“None for you?” He asked as you pushed the cup toward him.

“I can’t stand the taste of it. But I’m sure you have a long night ahead of you.” You had taken off the scarf and sunglasses and the dim light of the hotel’s empty lounge only served to exacerbate your injuries to Miles’ eye. But, as you steered the conversation toward television shows and then toward music and the other guests you had encountered at the rundown hotel, Miles couldn’t bring himself to ask again. He understood needing an escape.

You were funny. And smart. And kind. And had the terrible and wonderful habit of touching the back of Miles’ hand whenever he made you laugh. His poor heart nearly hopped out of his chest when you reached up to push an errant strand of his hair off his forehead when he was telling you a story of a drunk groom who had run away from his wedding a few counties over. The words stalled on his tongue for a moment as your gentle fingers swept across his skin before you tilted your head to the side, wordlessly allowing him to continue with his story.

“You ever think about it?” You asked as he finished.

“What?”

“Getting married. With a face like that, I’d be surprised if you don’t have a string of broken hearts in your wake.” You giggled at the blush you coaxed out of him.

“N-no. I mean, one day. Maybe.” He wanted that. He wanted a different life outside the hotel. He wanted someone to tell his secrets and sins to and hear theirs in return. He wanted to love and be loved. And your pretty eyes always seemed to take center stage in those fantasies.

You hummed around your next bite of cherry pie, licking your lips free of the sticky red sweet. “I could see it. You’d make a handsome groom—a better husband than most have these days.”

“And you?” He asked quietly, half hoping half dreading your answer. “Do you want to get married?”

You sighed. “Maybe. One day. Hard to do in my line of work.”

And before he could stop himself, Miles asked, “what do you do?”

Your smile was all teeth. It reminded Miles of one of the coyotes that had stepped into a trap on his family’s farm back in Indiana. “I’m a transport specialist, of sorts.”

Miles didn’t think transporting anything was supposed to be dangerous. But then again, hotel desk clerks usually didn’t have to send reels of film off to a post office box for things he wasn’t allowed to ask about—so, maybe you had another thing in common. And, when Miles felt sleep finally start to wash over him as the needle rolled out of his grip, he could only think of how soft your touch had been.

The fourth time Miles saw you was over a year later. He had nearly given up on seeing you again after that late night talk. He knew it was ridiculous. He hardly knew you. He didn’t even know your real name and he hated how long it took him to realize you’d always signed in with some sort of Alice in Wonderland pseudonym. But that did not stop his mind from conjuring your face, both bruised and unblemished, when it hazed with drug-induced sleep.

You had made a mark on him, for better or for worse.

And when you walked in on a cool Spring evening, Miles couldn’t hold it against you. You were wearing another short dress; your boots, shiny and probably expensive, made little noise as you crossed the lobby to lean across the desk again, and your smile was just as bright as he remembered. “Hey, stranger.”

And that was it. Miles found himself sitting across from you at the same booth you’d occupied last time, sharing a rhubarb pie because the machine was out of cherry. Neither of you seemed to mind. And it was you who brought up your absence. “Had to take a few jobs on the east coast for a bit.”

“Was there less stupid for you to hit out there?”

You snorted and halfheartedly whacked his arm. “Plenty of stupid on the east coast. Just a different kind. But there were no Miles Millers on the east coast so it was decidedly less fun.”

A familiar warmth bloomed in Miles’ cheeks as he stabbed at the remnants of the pie with his fork. “You’re makin’ fun of me.”

“I’m not,” you said, earnest and honest as your hand settled over his on the table. “I missed you. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

Miles looked up at you again. The low light was making your eyes sparkle and he could still smell your perfume. And maybe Miles could be brave again. “I missed you, too.”

Your answering smile was dazzling. And you just kept smiling at him as you continued to trade stories of your lives. Yours seemed decidedly more exciting, even if he would wager that you were only telling him half of it, but you were just as interested in what he told you, too. The stories about rowdy guests, of the food delivery men being caught eating half his promised delivery, all of it. Any of it. Just to keep that smile on your face. But the third time he yawned just before midnight, you were the one to suggest him going to bed.

“Will you be here in the morning?” He just wanted to see you in the light of the morning. Just once. Just to know you were near for the night. Another bit of selfishness.

You gave him another smile. “Maybe, Miles. Maybe.”

He thought about your smile as he watched you walk away. He thought about your smile as he shucked his ill-fitting blazer and grabbed the familiar bag and needles rattled in his drawer. He thought about it as his body sagged, veins thrumming. It was the last thought he had before sleep finally claimed him. You and your pretty smile.

“You are a good man, Miles Miller,” a voice whispered to him. A warm hand pressed against his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. This was a nice dream. It was you, sitting on the edge of his makeshift bed, so close he could smell your perfume. Yes, this was a nice dream. Your skillful fingers carefully took the needle from his arm and undid the tourniquet before pressing your fine silk scarf to the crux of his elbow.

“Pretty…” He murmured, the syllables slow like molasses on his tongue.

You pulled the threadbare blanket over him and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “You deserve more than this. Good, sweet man.” Then, with a press of your beautiful lips against his temple, you were gone.

Miles woke the next morning and felt his eyes sting with tears as he saw the blood speckled bit of silk crumpled beneath his arm. It hadn’t been a dream. He walked on unsteady feet down the dark, familiar hallway to Nevada 3 and his entire body sagged when he saw the familiar sight of your still-neatly made bed. You were gone. Again. A flash of pink caught his eye and Miles turned, heart in his throat.

See you soon!

You’d written it backward, in your lipstick, just out of frame of the camera in the corner of the mirror. This was for Miles. Just for Miles. You knew about the cameras and you didn’t care. And you said you would see him again soon. Miles let himself smile as he loaded up the film. You’d see him soon. He glanced at the ledger and saw you had signed in as Kat Cheshire.

Miles wished the leap of his heart was out of joy when he saw you for the fifth time. But it wasn’t. You stumbled in, hand pressed to your stomach but Miles could still see the blooming crimson on your pretty white blouse. He threw the desk open and grabbed at your sides, ignoring your pained hiss as he dragged you back into the maintenance closet and let you crumple onto his unmade bed before grabbing at towels and a bottle of antiseptic. You were quiet as he set to work, barely a grunt of pain as he started to stem the bleeding before dumping half the bottle of antiseptic on the wound.

“Bullet or knife?” He asked.

“Knife.” A grimace marred your features as your head tipped back. “Lousy aim. Doesn’t feel like they hit anything important.”

“This happen often enough for you to know that?” He asked. But he could already see the scars twisting up and down your torso.

“Something like that,” you said from between gritted teeth. “And what about you, huh? Where’d you learn to do this?” Your pretty eyes were unfocused but still trained on him.

“The war,” he whispered after a long stretch.

And you only hummed. “Bet it taught you a lot of things you shouldn’t’ve had to learn.”

Miles couldn’t look at you, only peeling the towel back for a moment to make sure the bleeding had at least slowed to a trickle. “Do you know how to sew this shut?”

You nodded as your hand covered his on the towel. “My Grammy would whoop me for the shit knots, but I know how to make sure it’s closed.” The following laugh had an extra bit of blood pooling in the towel.

Someone hit the bell out on the desk but Miles didn’t budge from your side. At least, not until the toe of your expensive shoe nudged against his knee. “Go. I got this.”

“Not gonna disappear on me this time?”

And you fucking smiled. “Not this time.”

The entire time Miles gave his speech to a man who looked suspiciously like a congressman and two women who weren’t his wife, his mind was on you. You in his room with a needle and floss digging into your skin. You in his room and surrounded by a few of his deepest shames. You in his room.

Your smile seemed a little less strained when he finally handed over the key to the honeymoon suite and hurried back to you. He knew the phone would ring in a moment, it always did with guests like that. And you were here, too. It would be a two camera night. But that didn’t matter right now.

You did.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you stood near his rumpled bed. Your blood stained blouse was open now; he could see the twisted loops of the stitches you had sewn and how blood had soaked into the band of your pretty pink bra. “Can I have Room 3, again, please?”

The phone rang.

An hour later, you were back in the lobby in a new shirt and a familiar sparkle in your eye as you leaned against the front desk. Two slices of cherry pie were pushed in his direction. “I think I owe you a bit of an explanation.” For the first time, your smile was timid. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”

The pair of you spoke for hours. Hours. He told you everything he could. Everything he had buried. Everything he carried. And you told him just the same. It had been a pair of cruel twists of fate for both of you to fall into your lines of work. Miles had needed a job, something quiet and stable after the war had ripped him apart. Management had preyed on that, knowing he needed this job. And you had come from the wrong side of the tracks and witnessed something you shouldn’t have. You cut a deal, work for them and make more money than you could have ever dreamed of or take a short trip in the back of a van. It was an easy decision. And you were good at it: making sure people paid what they ‘promised’ and delivering it to places like the El Royale where it could be given to the people who were expecting it. Sometimes people needed to be convinced to hand over what they had been told to pay. It wasn’t always money. And you hated knowing that the weight of folded bills differed greatly from…well, other things. The cameras pointed at your room were supposed to be a precaution, to make sure you didn’t take anything from the case and the right person picked it up. Apparently the people Miles worked for knew the people you worked for and had an agreement. Or they were the same people. Neither of you were entirely sure.

“Meeting you has been a silver lining,” you murmured. “You’ve been my bright spot.”

And that was probably one of the saddest and kindest things Miles had ever heard. He had never been anyone’s bright spot. Not since his number was called and he was shipped out. But here you were, in the dim light of the El Royale, holding your secrets up to his like some sort of burnt offering. The song you had picked on the jukebox was coming to a close and Miles almost smiled when you had first picked it, Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit.” It seemed to suit you. But as the final notes rang out through the lobby, you were quick to skitter back toward the jukebox, steps a little stilted but still graceful. The next song started and you made your way back to him, slowing to a stop in front of him.

You stretched out a hand to him with a growing smile. “Dance with me?”

And Miles couldn’t tell you no. He stood and let your smooth hand slide into his as the other rested against his shoulder. His fingers twitched as he grasped at your waist and started to lead you in a muted type of waltz, still mindful of your injuries.

Then he listened to the lyrics.

And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much… Are you still mine? I need your love…

This was a love song.

Lonely rivers sigh, ‘wait for me, wait for me…’ I’ll be coming home, wait for me…

“This song makes me think of you,” you murmured, face turned away, but he could feel each syllable of it with your cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Is that weird?”

“No. No, it isn’t strange.” It was heaven in a sentence. Having you in his arms, surrounded by your perfume and feeling the warmth of you so close…it was heaven.

But the song was short, too short for what Miles wanted. He could have held you forever and the sad look in your eyes as you pulled back made him think you wanted that, too. He could have asked you to stay. Could have asked you to finally finally finally tell him your real name. Could have asked you to dinner. A real dinner—not just pie from the machine. But when your soft lips brushed against the corner of his mouth, all of those questions fizzled to stardust.

“I have to go, Miles. Stay safe for me.”

And then you were gone.

It wasn’t until he was checking out the congressman the next morning that he looked at the ledger. There, in your familiar handwriting, was W. Rabbit.

He would never get to learn your name, would he? He would never get to look at you in the morning light. He would never get to smell your perfume again. He would never get to tell you that he couldn’t listen to that song without thinking of you. He would never learn your name. And with the revelation that Father Flynn wasn’t actually a priest, it seemed that Miles wouldn’t be able to do anything he had hoped to do before he died.

Unforgiven and unfulfilled.

But at least you weren’t here. You were safe. Right?

“Found another one!” One of the hippies shouted as the front doors chimed. And there you were, being dragged in, blood and rain soaking you down to the bone. “This one killed-”

“The lady killed someone?” Billy Lee laughed. Laughed. “Are you sure?”

The other hippie nodded and threw you down to the ground beside the unmoving body of Emily Summerspring. “Beat them to death with my tire iron.”

Billy Lee walked over to you and shoved his foot beneath your ribs, turning you over with another laugh. “Aren’t you something else?”

“I’m something else,” you said, words bloated and slow. “And they were lazy. Easy to kill.” That all but smacked the smile off the hippie’s face.

“Tie her up. Put her with the others.”

You were unceremoniously dragged to your feet again and tied to a chair beside Darlene. Your pretty eyes widened as you finally took in Miles’ appearance. “Miles…”

No.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be safe. You were supposed to be okay. Miles shook his head, feeling his chin quake with another sting of tears. He didn’t want to see you. Not now. If all your late night talks and pretty smiles meant that you ended up here, now, he wished he had never met you.

“Oh, are we on a first name basis with the bellboy?” Billy Lee asked as he draped himself over your shoulders once the ropes were sufficiently tight. “What’s the story there?”

“Leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t asking you, altar boy.”

You winced as the other man tugged at the dangling diamonds in your ear. “He’s my friend. And he isn’t a fucking bellboy.”

Billy Lee hummed and tugged at your earring again until your ear bled. “No. No, I think there’s something more. Friends don’t look at friends like that, do they, Boots?”

“Nah, I think he’s in love with her. But they haven’t fucked yet,” the youngest of the bunch answered, a southern twang almost softening the crassness of her words. Miles vaguely remembered her name was Rose.

It made Billy Lee laugh. “I think you’re right! There’s so much tension!”

All it did was make Miles’ stomach sink. Was this going to be another game to them? One woman was dead and the hippies seemed intent on having another round. He had already survived one round—would he survive another? Would you?

The room suddenly fell into darkness, the hum of the hotel’s power cutting out on the whim of the raging storm to pitch the group into an unsteady quiet. But as the hippies argued over what to do next and the fake priest and sweet Darlene were roped into the labyrinthine conversation about where the mess of money came from, Miles looked at you. There was a nasty gash at your hairline and the rain water had swept a bit of the blood down your face to stain the collar of your dress. But your eyes were bright and focused on him, too. Despite the absolute bloodbath that was sure to come, you smiled.

Wouldn’t that be the best thing for him to see before he died? Just your pretty smile. He may not get the opportunity to confess, but he got to see you one last time. And hopefully you would be able to walk away from all of this. That was what Miles wanted for you. He wanted you to see the morning light for him.

And Darlene started to sing, “Oh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch; a long, lonely time…”

Your eyes found Miles’ again and your smile was small this time, a quiet nudge that you remembered the dance you had shared with him to this song. This was your song. And that was all the time he would get to spend with you.

“And time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much…”

But he wanted more. He wanted to leave this behind. He wanted to know how it truly felt to be yours, and you could be his. He wanted to know your name.

“Are you still mine-”

Darlene’s beautiful voice halted as Billy Lee spun the roulette table again. “I’ve heard better.”

The game had begun again.

Then everything happened at once. Father Flynn stood and slammed his head into Billy Lee’s face. Two shots were fired, missing their targets, as Flynn and Billy Lee tumbled through one of the fire pits. Darlene shoved herself back, toppling her chair and taking one of the other hippies down, too. Miles flung himself down, managing to crawl toward the safety of the lounge’s wrap around railing.

But where were you?

Miles turned his head and saw the toppled roulette table, the scattered cash, and the gun. And he froze. He couldn’t do it. 123 people already hung on his soul, he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t. He didn’t even realize he was saying it over and over again, out loud, until Darlene called out to him, kind eyes pleading.

“Miles, help us!”

Fire spilled out from the destroyed fire pits. The hotel was going to burn down.

“I can’t kill no more people,” he muttered, heart in his throat, angry flashes of dead men cycling through his mind.

“How many people have you killed, Miles?”

His next breath stuttered in his throat. “123.”

There was a long stretch of silence before Darlene managed to smile. “It’s all right. You don’t have to kill more people.”

Something settled in his bones with that simple set of sentences. He didn’t have to. There was no superior officer barking orders at him. There was no threat of a court martial. There were no empty promises of bullshit patriotic duty. He had no obligation.

But then you screamed. And Miles moved.

The gun was a familiar weight in his hand as his fingers curled around it and he pulled back the hammer. He watched the man drag you by the hair to stand near Flynn as Billy Lee pointed a shotgun at you both. Aiming was easy. And so was pulling the trigger.

Rose screamed and dove for Billy Lee’s unmoving form, hands framing his face as she sobbed. But Miles hardly heard it as he moved to shoot the other man, and then the woman who had tried to hide behind a lounge couch, before handing the pistol off to Flynn and hurrying to your side. A new bruise was starting to swell on your cheek but you barely acknowledged it as you started to tug at the rope still tying his hands together. He could smell your perfume, tinged with rainwater and blood.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Your deft fingers faltered and your pretty eyes shot to his. “Sweetheart. That’s new.”

A familiar heat crawled up his cheeks. “Y-you never told me your name.”

“Will you still call me sweetheart if I tell you?” The ropes around his wrists fell to heap around your feet. He was free.

“‘Course I will.”

Another one of your smiles lit up your face before it quickly dropped as your hands slammed into Miles’ chest as you shoved him to the side. Before he could ask what you were doing, Rose had leapt at you, knife in hand. You managed to keep the blade from sliding into your stomach as the younger girl seethed. Your arms shook with the effort but you still managed to force her backward, boots sliding across the carpet, until her back hit the dividing wall. Miles didn’t see you move. Didn’t see your hands turn the knife around. Didn’t see you shove one last time. But Rose fell anyway. And didn’t move again.

Everything after that was a blur. Miles hardly remembered you gently pushing him into the passenger side of your car before peeling out of the parking lot as rain continued to lash against the windshield. He hardly remembered the mumbled goodbyes he gave to Flynn and Darlene before they went their separate ways. He hardly remembered how you promised to ‘handle’ management when they were bound to have questions. “They aren’t a fan of hippies either, you know. We’re going to be just fine.”

But Miles remembered the skies clearing and the dark of the night giving way to a lilac dawn just as you slowed to a stop in front of a small church a few hours later. St. Joseph’s Catholic Church — it was written in faded blue paint just above the door.

“I’ll wait out here, okay? Then we can go see this girl I know; she’ll make sure we get all that buckshot out of you.”

An hour later, Miles walked out of the church, soul a little lighter. And there you stood, leaning against your car in the morning light.

Miles stepped to your side and let his hands settle over your hips. Quiet as the wind, you whispered your name. Miles inched his way closer, shoes knocking into yours and making your smile widen the slightest bit. He reached up and gently cupped your face, mindful of your bruising, and was nearly giddy as you pressed further into his grasp. Then slowly, happily, he leaned in. He whispered your name against your lips and kissed you. It sounded right. You felt right. At that moment, Miles knew he’d follow you anywhere. Down any path, any rabbit hole, as long as you were at his side.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#miles miller x reader #miles miller x you #miles miller #bad times at the el royale #female reader

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corner-stories · 4 months

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a fever dream of a scene

Mikasa Ackerman. Jean Kirschtein. Film Sets. Edgy Music Videos. Fake Blood. Actors AU. 1789 words. (ao3.) reposting bc i'm an idiot who posted this on the wrong blog...

It’s fair to say that this piece differs from her usual on-camera fare. Is it abstract? Yes. Did she agree to be paid scale despite all the expensive costumes and props? Of course. Is it not marred with discussions from casting directors over whether she’s Asian enough to play Yakuza #3? Absolutely.

As Mikasa slowly looks up to the camera, she hopes that both the tear in her left eye and the fake blood in her mouth move down her face in a way that adheres to the creator’s vision. All the storyboards and sketches she had looked over didn’t compare to actually creating the shot, a process that required her to become the clay that conforms to the sculptor’s needs. The camera is focused on her and nothing else in the room, in her head she can already imagine that everything behind her is a blur.

She’s not sure how much time passes until she hears Jean say, “Cut!”

She takes a moment to catch her breath, then glances at Jean near the monitor. Instead of looking at the screen he’s talking to Armin, discussing the details of the shot as his trusty cinematographer adjusts the camera.

Before she can truly tune into the conversation, Mikasa is approached by the make-up artist.

Pieck is exceedingly chipper for someone who’s been handling fake blood all day, especially fake blood that’s been swirling in the gums of the talent. The most amusing thing of all is that the goop isn’t even dyed red, but pitch black to better appear on camera.

With a dissonantly serene smile Pieck walks up to Mikasa at the end of the table, reaching over with a paper cup to allow the talent to spit out whatever’s left in her mouth.

“Chin up, buttercup?” Pieck asks and Mikasa does so, allowing the make-up artist to wipe off the remaining blood with a cotton pad. “Thank you.”

Mikasa is used to this treatment, the hankering feeling that she’s being absolutely pampered while the other crew members do their jobs around her. In the corner of her eye she can spot the lighting team adjusting the c-stands around the dining room, as well as Connie tending to the camera like most 1st ACs would. They move with a kind of rhythm that she’s scared to disrupt, so in the time that she remains where she is to recollect herself.

The shooting location is large by New York standards, an Upper East Side townhouse that just screams early Gossip Girl. Despite that, the studio seems determined to pack as many people in the room as they can before it becomes a fire hazard, as time is money despite their abundance of that as well. It’s not as ungodly hot as some sets she’s been on, but Mikasa is still relieved when she spots an overworked PA cracking a window and letting the room breathe.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Pieck soon says, catching Mikasa’s attention.

“Do what?”

Pieck reaches for her trusty make-up artist tool belt and pulls out a brush, then begins fixing the foundation on the talent’s face. “Cry on cue.”

Mikasa lets out a hum. It’s moments like this where she’s thankful to be a working actress — what other career warrants putting “Can Cry Realistically” on her resume? It’s certainly been a while she’s been able to flex that skill as well, as the demands of her theatre work would be marred by the presence of tears. Singing eight shows a week and sobbing each time is definitely a recipe for disaster, as she’s discovered the hard way.

“I’m a dweller,” she soon answers. “I dwell.”

Pieck begins using a fine-toothed comb on Mikasa’s hair, doing her best to keep it brushed out of her pretty face. “Dwell on what?”

Mikasa shrugs. “Everything… everything that’s bad. There’s a lot of that, isn’t there?”

There is a beat while the only sound Mikasa can hear is that of the busy film crew, the bustle of Manhattan outside the window, and Pieck applying some hairspray to a loose strand.

Soon Pieck lets out a scoff. “Well damn, I could never do that,” she partially jokes, but there is a slight sense of seriousness to her tone. “If I started crying I’d never stop.”

Mikasa hums once more, which is usually as close as she can get to a laugh. Before she can say anything else she hears the 1st ADs voice from across the set.

“Roll on playback!” Historia’s voice commands. For someone who’s barely above the five-foot line, she’s certainly an expert at making a whole-ass film crew listen to her. What she lacks in height she truly makes up for in sheer tenacity.

Mikasa glances at the monitor set-up to see Jean and Armin watching the screen. For a second Jean looks to her, then gestures for her to come over.

“Wanna see?” he asks, and Mikasa nods her head.

She stands from the table and walks over, doing her best to avoid tripping on cables and harming the gown she’s been given. Being told that the garment costs more than her rent makes her act extra careful as she traverses the set, and that’s saying something because New York will be New York. She can’t help but wonder if the producers struggled to find “dress insurance” before shooting began, especially since such a pretty outfit will spend an entire day near fake blood.

Mikasa arrives at the monitor just in time to see the footage play. On the screen she is colored in black and white, depicted in the center of a narrower aspect ratio that makes the image to evoke the energy of a vintage photograph, just crisper. She looks straight down the barrel with a death glare, the blood on her lip and the tear down her face moving with more synchronicity than she expected. Jean and Armin did mention that they were using the project as an opportunity to experiment, and if the unconventional framing wasn’t an indicator than the shot of blood dribbling down her chin certainly was.

Her shoulder brushes Jean’s as she stands next to him. When she looks over she thinks he looks the most “director-ly” as he’s ever appeared — with his weathered baseball cap, worn-in work boots, and his month-old unkempt beard that tells the world exactly how much sleep he’s been getting. He looks happier in this particular element as well, free to express and to explore within a wider range of imagery and concepts — far less confined to whatever the studio wants him to do in order to get the best return on investment. A monochrome music video for some indie band she’s never heard of is certainly a change of pace from his usual work, which is usually limited to whatever teen drama about vampires needs a director that day.

The vision on the monitor resembles what he had pitched the studio, that being if a Christian Dior ad had an edgy child and neglected it. If anything, Jean is both earning his paycheque and his stripes as a horror director.

As the footage plays, Jean turns to his side and their gazes meet. He gives her a smile that masks his sleep deprivation and nudges her shoulder like she did to him.

“I think we’re printing this one,” he tells her softly. “So you’re done crying for the day.”

“I can handle it,” Mikasa insists, rolling her eyes. Though deep down a part of her is grateful, less for the lack of crying and more for no longer having to put that gnarly mix of corn syrup and food coloring in her mouth.

“I know,” Jean agrees, smiling playfully.

He puts an arm around her and holds her close. She doesn’t protest his gesture, even if it’s a more affectionate sign than she expected him to show on set. With everyone moving around them so quickly she can’t imagine someone has the time to judge the director and lead actress who just happen to be romantically involved. Though she is slightly surprised that no one has questioned the director’s choice to cast his partner in the role of a woman who kills and cannibalizes her wealthy husband before stealing all his money.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” he makes sure to say, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.

Mikasa can’t hide the smile on her face, even when a part of her knows that they’re technically on the job and need to maintain a certain air of professionalism. Her life and career has always been a series of ups and downs — standing with her boyfriend in an expensive dress as they watch a fever dream of a scene is never where she expected to be, but it’s a place she is grateful for irregardless. To have someone always in her corner, especially in this industry, is a blessing in the purest form.

Mikasa turns to him and presses a kiss to his cheek, something he seems happy to receive even if only for a second.

Once it’s all done he slips into director mode again. Historia walks up to him and asks if he likes the shot, and when Jean says yes she loudly announces to the crew that they’re moving on.

Everyone traverses the set as diligently as they can. The lighting team moves the c-stands and sand bags, the art director wipes off the fake blood from the ebony table, and the script supervisor is furiously jotting down information about the last shot. Mikasa finds one of the folding chairs near the monitor and sits, preferring to remain out of the way as the people who actually have shit to do go on their way. She’s not exactly sure which scene they’ll be setting up next, but her best guess is that it’s either the one where she runs barefoot down a shadowy hall or burns handwritten letters in a fire. No matter which one, she has a few minutes to spare before Jean calls her to block the scene.

As Mikasa settles into her spot, she sees Jean walking up to Armin and Connie at the camera. As Armin tinkers with the device like most cinematographers would, she spots Connie sporting a wide smirk on his face.

“Hey…” Connie starts, playfully nudging the director. “What do I get when I’m doing great?”

Mikasa looks amused while Jean looks a lot less so. There is a beat while he glares daggers at his friend, staring in a way that would imply a certain degree of annoyance, then in one swift movement Jean kisses the palm of his hand before pressing it flat against Connie’s face.

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #mikasa ackermann #armin arlert #connie springer #pieck finger #historia reiss #snk #actors au #modern au #oh the stories u concoct when u actually work on film sets

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1lesbianisms1 · 1 year

Text

And They Were Roomates

Enid x Wednesday

Author’s Notes: This is one of my favorite pairs and I hold out hope that they’ll become canon (though I highly doubt it 😔) I’m a sucker for a grumpy x sunshine trope, especially when their sapphic ‼️

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Another day wasted in this penitentiary, Wednesday grimaced. The day’s classes had finally ended and Wednesday couldn’t be more thrilled . She desperately wanted to get back to her typewriter and cello. She needed to find a way out of this school, but she also needed to solve the problem of the troll. Such an inconvenient dilemma, she mused.

Stepping into the half darkness of her shared dorm made Wednesday calm. It was quiet, not accompanied with the usual sounds of giggles and multicolored nails tapping away on a phone. Enid wasn’t here, perfect. Now she could play her cello in peace. As Wednesday set her bag down she heard the familiar tapping of her favorite disembodied hand.

Thing appeared from behind her typewriter, welcoming her back. Wednesday said hello to her friend before making her way over to the grand cello case. She wanted to get as much practice in before Enid came back and even worse, if Enid came back with Ajax in tow. She already had to deal with Enid’s incessant giggles at her phone, she didn’t need the sound of kissing to make her throw herself from the window of this dorm.

Lugging the cello outside to the balcony, Wednesday sat and began to ponder what to play. She had been learning a new piece that she wasn’t 100% sure with, it didn’t hurt to practice, she supposed. Wednesday began playing at the grand instrument, plucking its strings and dragging her bow along the thin threads, creating a melancholic song fit for a funeral, or a wedding. Same thing really.

Wednesday sat playing for a long while with the luxury of zero distractions, her only audience being Thing, who cheered and snapped when she perfected the song she’d been practicing. She was just about to start another song when the door of their dorm opened and her peaceful playing with no distractions was shattered. Enid was back. Strangely, Enid didn’t come to greet Thing or Wednesday, very out of character for Sinclair.

As Wednesday began playing again, she signaled Thing to go check on the werewolf. Thing swiftly scattered into the apartment, he seemed more worried for Enid than he let on. Wednesday left the potential crying to Thing, who was surprisingly comforting for a rogue hand. Wednesday was in the throes of another piece, feeling herself become lost in the music, in the deep, smooth notes of the string instrument, when she felt the cool touch of familiar fingers. Thing was back with intel.

Enid was crying, but from something that warranted tears. Ajax had broken up with her. The werewolf wouldn’t disclose the reason why, but Thing could tell the Sinclair was distressed. Wednesday was already planning a way to make word on her threat to Ajax if he hurt Enid. Where would Wednesday find a nail gun? Thing interrupted Wednesday’s murderous daydream with another tap to her leg, more aggressive this time. Thing was urging Wednesday to go in and comfort the girl.

“Thing, you know I’m no good with comfort, that’s what I have you for,” Wednesday explained in her usual deadpan voice. Thing tapped the balcony below them impatiently. Wednesday sighed, but got up to comfort the werewolf with little argument.

“Enid, what’s wrong? What happened?” Wednesday asked, though her delivery was as dry as usual, she genuinely did hate to see Enid cry.

“It’s Ajax,” Enid responded tearfully, revealing her face and the mix of pink glittery eyeshadow and dark mascara that had begun to trickle down her pale cheeks that were equally as decorated with blush and tears.

“What’d he do? Do I need to nail gun his heart?” Wednesday asked, sitting on Enid’s bed, even though the oversaturation of colors made her skin crawl, she braced it… for Enid. The werewolf smiled at Wednesday’s proposal, grabbing a tissue to wipe the fallen makeup and tears.

“No, of course not, roomie,” Enid joked, playfully punching Wednesday’s arm. Usually, this would earn Enid a death stare, but Wednesday felt sorry for her dorm mate so she allowed her the physical touch, just this once.

“What’d he do?” Wednesday asked. Enid seemed to be in higher spirits, so she thought maybe asking now would be better. Plus, she needed to know exactly what he did to find the best method of revenge possible.

Enid was silent for a moment, looking down at her bright bed sheets, then to Wednesday, then back to her bedsheets. Wednesday sat patiently, awaiting her dorm mate’s response,

“He said there was someone else and that I’m a sweet girl. He just wants to date someone else. He said we could still be friends, but I don’t know if I want that,” Enid spoke, her eyes were becoming glossy and Wednesday could tell she was about to cry. Enid clutched her tissue in her hand, desperately trying to keep her claws from springing forth. Her leg was shaking and Wednesday could tell she wasn’t alright. So, the Addams girl did something she never thought she’d do. She put her hand on Enid’s shoulder and rubbed a few small circles in the soft cotton of the pink fleece sweater Enid wore.

Wednesday quickly pulled her hand away again, but not before Enid looked at her, and then her shoulder where Wednesday’s cold hand had been, and then back at the Addams girl. Wednesday was surprised by the action, though Enid couldn’t tell behind Wednesday’s usual stoic expression. However, Wednesday could very clearly read Enid’s shock. The girl did not have a good poker face at all. Wednesday couldn’t tell if it was teasing or genuine, but she could see Enid’s mouth curve into the slightest smile.

“Wow, I thought you didn’t do emotions?” Enid asked in a teasing manner, clearly her spirits had been lifted. Wednesday took a moment before replying, for once, Wednesday didn’t have an answer. She was speechless.

“I don’t… but I don’t like to see you cry either,” Wednesday replied, looking away from Enid’s undoubtedly happy face.

“Aww roomie, you’re so sweet,” Enid gushed and Wednesday could feel the swell of her cheeks turn the slightest bit warmer. “But I thought seeing people cry was like, your favorite thing,” Enid inquired. Wednesday turned back to Enid who had her head tilted, expecting an answer.

“Yes, but that’s people who deserve to cry,” Wednesday claimed. She could feel herself digging deeper into a hole, one she would never come out of.

“So you think I don’t deserve to cry?” Enid asked, moving closer to Wednesday. The Addams girl looked up to see Sinclair smiling at her with something unknown just beyond her eyes. Wednesday could feel herself remembering why she didn’t give comfort, all she wanted was the soothing notes of her cello back.

“Yes. Ajax however…” Wednesday started, but before she could finish, Enid had moved significantly closer to her. She was still staring with that unknown smile, but Wednesday was starting to get a few ideas about what that look meant.

“Enid… what are you doing?” Wednesday asked, backing away a little before realizing if she backed away further she’d fall straight off the bed. So, she stayed where she was and hoped calling her out would get Sinclair to stop acting strange.

“I’m not doing anything, roomie,” Enid replied. Wednesday didn’t buy it, something was off with this girl. Before Wednesday could find a way to reply, she heard the taps of Thing. She turned to find him observing from under Enid’s bed. He was signaling to Wednesday that Enid wanted to kiss her. Kiss? Wednesday couldn’t believe it. Enid was head over heels for Ajax a couple of hours ago, but now she wanted Wednesday? Wednesday, of all people? The Addams girl was almost flattered at the prospect.

Looking back to Enid, the werewolf was still just staring at her. Did she want Wednesday to make the first move? She couldn’t bring herself to move, she just stared at Enid with an equally unreadable expression until the Sinclair cracked, “Wednesday… can I kiss you?” Enid asked, looking at Wednesday through her eyelashes that still had bits of pink glitter on them. Wednesday didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t need to. Sinclair saw her dark counterpart leaning in, ever so slightly. Not wanting to drag this out any longer, Enid connected their lips finally.

Wednesday was scared, scared of getting another vision, scared of ruining whatever relationship she had with Enid, but when Enid’s lips touched hers, everything was alright. No visions, nothing, just Enid and her. Wednesday felt Enid’s hand cup her face and pull her deeper into the kiss. She smelled like flowers and sweets and her hand was soft against Wednesday’s cool skin.

Wednesday felt the hand that once lay on her knee move to the bed, closer to Enid as Enid used her other hand to grab Wednesday by her uniform and pull. She fell towards Enid, but Sinclair didn’t miss a beat, just kept kissing Wednesday while the Addams girl still wrapped her head around what was happening to her right now.

Enid fell against her mattress, wrapping both her hands around Wednesday’s neck and pulling her close. Enid was so warm against Wednesday it almost burned. Wednesday’s hand traveled to Enid’s waist against her better judgment. Wednesday was still wrestling with herself when she felt Enid’s legs wrap around her and pull her even closer. With that, Wednesday let every bit of doubt she had fall to the wayside. She was in too deep to quit now, so she might as well enjoy the opportunity she’d been given.

Wednesday pulled away, catching her breath as Enid did the same. She lay against Enid’s neck and breathed in her scent. Her skin felt like velvet under Wednesday’s rough fingertips. When Wednesday couldn’t wait any longer, she began kissing her way up Sinclair’s neck, noticing the way her pulse jumped and she gasped every time Wednesday’s lips made contact with her skin.

“Enid…” Wednesday whispered, sucking at the soft flesh below the girl’s earlobe. Enid let a groan slip from her throat while she curled into Wednesday's surprisingly comforting sandalwood and bergamot scent.

“Yes, Wednesday?” Enid responded, leaving her own feathery kisses to the side of Wednesday’s neck while she fought the goosebumps that threatened to erupt beneath Sinclair’s lips.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Enid?” Wednesday asked, moving to look Enid in her eyes. Enid had a smile on her face, but her eyes still looked puffy from all the crying and now her lips were puffy and a deep purple on account of Wednesday’s lipstick.

“Of course, I am. Now get down here, I’m getting impatient,” Enid responded, grabbing Wednesday by the tie she still bore and pulled her down, connecting with the softness of her lips again. Wednesday liked this assertive side of Enid, it let her know maybe Enid really was tougher than she let on. Wednesday grabbed hold of Enid’s waist, gripping her hips through the thick sweater she wore. Her other hand found her way to Enid’s thigh, sliding up her leg, slowly enough to make the werewolf shiver.

Enid’s hands found their way to Wednesday’s hair, playing with the soft, silk braids. Enid flipped them over quite easily and began straddling the Addams girl. Her hands grabbed Wednesday’s wrist and held them above her head, trying her hardest not to hold on too tightly and risk hurting Wednesday. Though, Sinclair knew Wednesday could handle herself. Enid could feel Wednesday roll against her, even hear some whimpers leave the Addams girl as she kissed her like they’d never see one another again.

Wednesday could feel herself slipping, could feel her attention falling from her grasp and at Enid’s feet. She couldn’t focus on anything but the girl on top of her. Her wrists burned with the force Enid was using to keep them in her grasp. She could feel Enid getting just as restless on top of her, grinding against Wednesday while she struggled not to let her claws show.

Enid pulled away, letting go of Wednesday’s wrists as she took a breather, pulling her hair back and taking in a breath of fresh air. She looked down at Wednesday whose lipstick was completely smudged and wiped off, some having found its way onto Enid’s mouth. Wednesday just laid and waited for Enid to come back down.

Enid then looked at Wednesday with a glint in her eyes and Wednesday eyed her back confused. Sinclair just continued to smile at her until she was grabbing the bottom of her sweater and pulling up. Just before she could get the sweater past her bra, the door of their dorm opened. Quickly, they scrambled, pulling off each other. Enid practically threw herself from Wednesday’s lap and Wednesday quickly got up from Enid’s bed.

“Hey, I tried knocking, but you didn’t answer,” Xavier exclaimed.

“What do you need, Xavier,” Wednesday replied, back to her normal monotone self. The one Enid liked so much.

“I was just wondering if you had the homework for Ms. Thornhill’s class?” Xavier asked, standing with his hands in his pockets, swaying from side to side. Slightly awkward. Enid could see the snarky reply building in Wednesday’s head, so before she even had the chance, Enid spoke, “I have it. You can borrow it, just return it to me when you’re finished,” Enid smiled, quickly getting the work from her bag and handing it to Xavier, clearly trying to make him leave.

“Thanks, Enid. Bye, Wednesday,” Xavier waved before leaving as quickly as he came. Enid skipped over to Wednesday who was still watching the door Xavier had just exited from.

“You really don’t like him do you?” Enid asked, giggling as she wrapped her hands around Wednesday’s waist. Pleasantly surprised when Wednesday didn’t pull away from her embrace, even feeling Wednesday relax in her arms, though maybe that could be her mind playing tricks on her.

“I don’t trust him,” Wednesday replied, still glaring at the door. Maybe Enid needed to worry about Wednesday being the one to bear her claws. Wednesday relaxed when she felt Enid’s kisses against her neck.

“Shall we continue, then?” Enid asked, wiggling her eyebrows at Wednesday. Wednesday couldn’t hide the small smile that decorated her lips, letting Enid drag her to the bed again.

Luckily, they had Thing to lock the door and keep watch. Hopefully, not of them.

#wednesday #wednesday x enid #lesbian #sapphic #wlw post #wlw fiction #wednesday is soft for enid #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #lesbian pride #wlw concepts #gay girls #fanfic #fandom #wlw community #wlw

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casitafallz-a · 2 years

Photo

Decay AU | Compromise

Agustín sighed heavily as he undressed for the night, hanging up his suit and tie before he headed back to bed in simply his boxers though his lovely wife was in bed, she had a book propped open but her eyes remained stationary on the page as he pulled his PJs from under his pillow.

“You okay, Mi Amor?” He asked, pulling them on

Her gaze lifted from the page though it pulled at him to see the tiredness and conflict swimming in those brown eyes and her lip pursed a little, telling him enough to slip into bed and pulled her into his side. Julieta’s book dug into his sternum before she pushed it down the bed covers.

“What’s bothering you?” He asked, letting her settle across his chest, running his fingers through her dark and greying hair that was now free of its usual bun.

Her eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch but the trouble lingered in the soft dent of her eyebrows.

“Isabela.”

Agustín should have guessed, their eldest amongst a field of issues that had cropped up and…he supposed given what had happened outside Mirabel’s room earlier should be discussed, he had already spoken to Felix but…he should speak to his wife now. It was clearly eating at her. He wanted her to sleep easily.

“Is this about earlier with the cactus?”

Julieta shook her head, “No.” she hesitated, “Well… yes. Sort of.”

Agustín nodded but decided not to make assumptions. He hadn’t actually seen Isa since then… maybe he needed to. Felix had mentioned she had made new plants and changes to her room that Abuela clearly didn’t like.

“She’s…changed her room…” Julieta bit her lip softly. “I…I don’t know how to feel about how she’s…used her gift.”

“Rooms do adapt and change for the owners.” He pointed out softly. “I can’t imagine it’s easy given it’s been the only space she has for her gift.” She was probably bored out of her mind and with a third person, chores were now a once-a-week thing; a lot of time on her hands though he hadn’t put much thought on what she’d be doing in there.

“It’s not that… It’s what she’d made that concerns me.” Julieta pulled away and lent more against the headboard. “I...don’t mind the trees… or the colours but…there’s so much more she’s capable that… I never considered.”

Agustín rubbed her arm, “why is that a bad thing, Mi Vida?”

Julieta swallowed, “I…I don’t know if the new is good…or if it’s a reflection of something bad. My gift doesn’t work when I am ill or how…hectic Pepa’s weather gets when she’s not well” She let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I’m just being silly but… I don’t understand why Isabela would think it’s okay to be this…drastic with her gift after what happened?”

“Amor….” Agustín started, trying to think of ways to spin this that wouldn’t undermine Julieta’s concerns. He could see what she meant but… he had a different feeling on the matter. “I think that…concern is warranted because this is…very close to what’s happened but… I think as long as it’s contained to her room then it’s okay. She’s probably just…bored.”

“What if it’s a bad thing? What if all the dark plants and change is her cry for help that something’s gone wrong and… that she might snap again… or—”

“Julieta..” he grasped her hand, pulling her attention away. “You know Isabela… she’s learnt her lesson.”

“I don’t.” Julieta looked away.

“What?”

“I…I don’t feel like I know her.” Her eyes welled up, “she’d been dating Mariano for over a year… I thought she wanted him. I thought she was happy. She looked happy. She acted happy… I thought I knew her. I thought her smiles were genuine. But she didn’t want him. Never did… and now I…” She paused, “I can’t take her at face value… I don’t know when I lost her. I…don’t know what happened to make her like this.”

Hearing those words set a low ache in his chest as the silent tears that dripped down her cheeks but he pulled her back into his chest though he rubbed at her arm in soft circles.

“Did I miss something?” Julieta’s voice muffled against his shirt between soft sobs.

Austin kissed the top of her head. “You’re a wonderful mother, Amor.” He assured, “Whatever happened, I missed as well. This isn’t all on you. I am her father as well.” Julieta’s breath shook but he didn’t let up on his soft assurances. “We’re doing better now, amor. Mirabel has her own room and she is so happy! That’s something we need to start as well, making sure our girls are happy.”

Julieta’s eyes peeked through her lashes. “How…how can we possibly balance everything? Mirabel’s terrified of Isabela and… and I can’t stay in the middle of them. Mirabel needs us but… what about Isabela? Luisa too… she’s so in the middle of all on this as well!.”

Agustín’s lips were pursed together. There was no easy answer and…all three of their daughters were their own person but… with one too scared to go near the other and with good reason… Luisa shouldn’t have to be that middle person. There was no mistake, Luisa always felt protective of Mirabel long before the girl didn’t get her gift. Now with the assault, it only validated that for their middle child. He certainly felt he had to do more, probably why he expected more resistance from Isabela; to feel that sense of purpose to protect Mirabel from her but… now he thought about it, he didn’t like how that made him feel.

“Mama…She suggested overseeing Isabela while we see to Luisa and Mirabel.” Julieta spoke, her eyes not meeting him. “I… I keep thinking about that offer…”

Agustín stroked her cheek, his heart pulling again. It had been mentioned on passing but only vaguely but he could see why Abuela would make such an offer in this time. It would give them more freedom but… the notion of abandoning their responsibilities as parents would certainly reflect… that they were abandoning Isabela in favour of her sisters… he disliked that.

Some might call that fair given how much that had slipped by them now, given how Isabela acted out and how much they had missed out with Mirabel.

He didn’t. Given how conflicted Julieta was, she was considering it and hated that she was.

“We shouldn’t abandon Isabela.” Agustín decided, “but… perhaps we should discuss this with Abuela? Talk through what that offer means and what that entails. I don’t want to agree with something and not know what Abuela plans. We know she means well… but she does expect a lot from the family.”

Julieta let out a shaky breath. “She wants us to be there more for Mirabel and Luisa…”

“We have a lot to make up for with our other daughters.” He agreed, “But leaving Isa in the dust won’t balance out the scales, even with that she did.” Agustín knew by now that Mirabel had her disagreements with Isabela’s punishments and how that made her feel bad…he didn’t want her to feel guilty about how they were handling Isa still.

His wife nodded softly, “I know. It’s just….so hard.

Agustín pulled her closer into his chest. “We’ll get through this, My Vida…”

“What if something happens again?”

“That’s a problem for later, right now we should focus on our current problems and manage that. The most we can do is keep an eye out, make sure our daughters know they can talk to us.” Even though it felt like pulling teeth. When did each of them become so tight-lipped?

Mirabel couldn’t stop the happiness as she balanced carefully on her new chest of draws as she delicately pained along the far wall. She was no expert painter but now she could look across her room –her room!—and see all the work she put into it. She could still smell the paint of fresh paint from the other walls but the walls were long-dry, no doubt Casita’s work in speeding up the process.

Her Papa had picked up the new paints earlier while she had sketched on the wall what she planned to do and Antonio was happily sat on her bed for now. He had been a little upset for missing the grand reveal and that she didn’t have a last night in the nursery with him but he had been allowed off school to help as long as he did some work in the afternoon. She planned to help with that and let Tio Felix worry about his own work and Tia when she came back from the fields

“Can I put a few animals here?” Antonio asked

“Well, I want to put Casita on this hill and a few houses. Maybe we can add the animals by the door.” Mirabel carefully clambered down from the draws with Casita’s assistance, patting the wall softly as thanks before she picked up the photograph of Casita though this one was colourless, that hadn’t been the main thought though she glanced down to the paints she had thoughtfully.

“I guess I need to pop into town for a few colours.” She mused, she needed a darker blue for the front door and something to mix with the yellow; one of the few colours she was low on given she had used most of the green on the mountains. “Mostly need blue for the front door and for making more green.”

“and Isabela’s tower, that’s got blue.”

“No. Isa’s tower is purple.”

“Not all of it.”

Mirabel stared blankly at her primo before she pursed her lips. She had walked up and down from the casita for years…. Isabela’s tower was purple. That was her whole colour. She wore purple and lived in a pink room….

“I’ll be back in a second.” She watched Antonio smile at her as she left, Casita’s tiles also seemed to be shifting in amusement before she walked out a few meters from Casita and looked up to the tower.

“huh…”

Antonio was right.

Isabela’s tower was purple with two balconies, the main first one was purple but the second was higher up and typically covered in flowers. But this time, there were no pink flowers. The top section was…blue and that blue carried on to a small slither that carried along just under the roof tiles along the top of other rooms that… Was Isabela’s tower not a tower?

“Mirabel?” Mirabel jumped, her hand shooting to her chest before she relaxed when she saw it was only Abuela.

“Abuela.”

“Are you okay?”

Mirabel nodded swiftly. “I was…just looking at Casita.”

Abuela’s eyes held a question of why, even as she too looked at the building.

“I was looking at colours… turns out Isabel’s room has blue on it. I did not know that…never noticed it before.”

“No, it’s— Oh.” Abuela seemed to realise as well, “Was that always blue?” There was a note of alarm in her voice that Mirabel didn’t get.

“I think we’d notice is she decorated.” Mirabel laughed awkwardly, “I was looking because I was going to paint Casita in my room.”

Abuela nodded, if a little distracted by the top section of Isabela’s tower. “That sounds nice.”

Mirabel peered at Abuela for a moment but decided… she’d leave Abuela to it. Antonio was still on her bed when she returned before making a note to get blue.

Abuela wasn’t sure what she had expected but the idea of Isabela changing her room would affect how it appeared on the outside… Would the rest of her tower go blue? There was no mistake that the change of colour would be spotted; Isabela’s tower was right at the front and facing the Encanto.

“Mama.” Abuela’s head turned a fraction as Julieta seemed to appear from the kitchen, wiping her hands down. “Can we talk?”

“Certainly.”

Abuela followed behind, the thoughts of Isabela’s tower a backburner as she noticed Agustín already sat at the table in the dining room, reading though a book and jotting down notes onto a pad beside it but the moment Julieta sat down, he marked the page and sat both aside. A mug of coffee was pushed along Casita’s side before Julieta set them down.

“Mama. We’ve been thinking about what you suggested after the…incident.” Julieta stated, her fingers tightening on her cup, “right now, I… I can’t commit to it.”

Abuela shifted a little but her spine remained straight. She had hoped Julieta’s choice was obvious and…if anything recently it certainly proved their hands were too full in handling all three. Isabela clearly needed a firm hand to guide her back and the other two needed their parent’s comfort in handling what their sister had done.

“Why not?”

Agustín lent forwards this time, his hand coming to Julieta’s back. “How it’ll look to others… or those as empathic as Mirabel, it may seem like we’re abandoning Isabela from our duties as parents. That we’re not doing a good enough job…”

Abuela shook her head. “You’re not abandoning Isabela. That’s far more dramatic than what I suggested.”

“Isabela is still Mirabel and Luisa’s sister. If we turn out attention to just them and Isabela, Mirabel’s going to notice. I… we know she feels a lot for her sister despite what she did.”

Abuela knew that was a huge factor of why Mirabel was for trying to get Isabela off her much-needed punishment was the guilt she had but there was a lot more Abuela needed to make up for was mistaking Isabela’s bullying for sisterly banter. She had clearly put too much attention onto Isabela’s shoulders to make her think she was untouchable… and while the last two weeks had been an improvement, the mess she had turned her room into yesterday and the flamboyant use of her gift…

It made her blood boil to see Isabela wasn’t trying as hard to repent. Two weeks was hardly enough time and she knew that Isabela needed a firmer hand. Julieta was… soft but that needed to go to the ones that needed it most. Mirabel for certain. Luisa would no doubt benefit. After Isabela, Luisa would be the next concern if there were a lapse.

Abuela hated it but with a new light…if Luisa snapped then the devastation was too extensive. Luisa’s capabilities of strength were unparalleled. Isabela might have taken her time in her assault in her rage, but a single poorly times swipe from Luisa would kill instantly. They had to make sure Luisa didn’t have the same stresses. It wasn’t worth it… they needed to tend to both with their fullest attention.

But… Mirabel would notice, as they said. Which meant that perhaps that they needed to find a way to ensure Mirabel didn’t wonder.

“What Isabela has done has…fractured this family.” Abuela started with. “There is a lot we’ve missed and a lot we need to do to make sure no one else repeats this incident. But to do that, Mija. We need to get ahead of it and stop it before it starts. Luisa needs you two to keep her stress down and Mirabel needs your comfort. But they’re both stuck her with Isabela which is going to slow that process. There is….a chance your bias’s as Isabela’s parents that might make you more lenient towards Isabela. That is my concern.”

Julieta stole a look at her husband. “What about you?”

“I will not allow myself to fall back into that habit. I cannot.” She stated firmly. “I am not going to be fooled again.”

Julieta took a heavy sip of her coffee.

“What if we compromise?” Agustín suggested carefully. “We know that…punishment wise could be left to you but let’s say for two months, we allow you have full rein over Isabela but—“ he added seeing both their looks “but if we feel something is over the line or something we’re uncomfortable with as her parents, we have final say over how that affects Isabela.”

Abuela’s jaw flexed but… she could see reason in that. It’d give them an idea to see how this would work out.

Julieta’s face relaxed. “Two months?”

“Too long?” Agustín asked with a mildly worried undertone to his voice, his hand pausing along Julieta’s back

Julieta shrugged, “I…never thought about a set time period of all of this.”

“I can agree to those suggestions. If all goes well, then I won’t need to impose any longer by the end of the two months but if there’s no improvement, then we can come back and talk.” She had her own doubts that two months wasn’t long enough for her but there was no need to announce it just yet. It was about her overseeing her, and for sure, Isabela’s punishments would certainly stay for longer if there was no improvement.

Julieta let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose.”

“Let’s keep this to ourselves for now.” She trusted Dolores to keep this quiet as well. She hadn’t let her down yet. “To spare Mirabel,” Abuela added, her chair scraping the floor as she rose but her mind was to everything she needed to make sure everything would be in order now.

With a final nod, Abuela hurried from the dining room.

Isabela pondered her room thoughtfully from the archway of her room. The new plants and life lingered but she knew in her bones she wasn’t going back to pink. She needed more… but she needed a blank slate but… she couldn’t go wild. Not again.

Abuela would hate that.

She needed to go basic but elegant. Isabela exhaled out slowly but slowly she let the flowers and vivid beauty wither and die into nothing, spreading out from her place until all the bushes and trees were gone from every surface; the walls, the floor, the ceiling, even those in pots withering away, furniture frames that had once held strong flowers to sit on.

The walls were lined with a textured surface; to allow for her plants to have fixated on permanently, the ground now nothing but damp soil. There was no breaking up of her room now without her walls, a few metallic frames stood in place which helped retain a reference to her room now it was…care. Even the flowers around her bed and furniture were gone and left a dull, textured frame underneath of her raised bed.

“Wow…” Isabela breathed, letting her eyes wander the vast space though felt her heart thud a little with how…much she had to do now… it was…a lot and the space felt overwhelming. It felt like a mistake to have killed it all and… well Abuela might think this was an improvement.

Her room did have its own water source; it had to for the sake of her flowers to stay alive; a small pond in the far corner and out of sight but… maybe she needed something else…something more alive. She knew the rooms could change to her desire; even if casita was mad at her, the building didn’t have right to dismiss her in her room; she could change it.

Her room had two distinct parts; one where she had her poised statues, her main room where her bed was then there was far left was her gazebo and more extra space… Her small pond wasn’t going to cut it. She needed more water… a river was too still.

“Waterfall… that’d work.” Her eyes drifted more to the space past her gazebo. That’d be good for the initial drop-down; far from the splash zone, a river could easily slice her room in half and break the room up. But, she needed more foundations.

It could have been hours…or minutes, Isabela didn’t know but she felt exhausted as the grass spread along her floor; it forced to order and a sense of cleanliness. She fought the impulse to crop up rows of vivid colours but settled to a blue and purple pallet to complement the slight design change. The walls had the lilac flowers back but she kept very geometric shapes of blue to break it up a little. A few Palma de cera at the back weren’t too intrusive as they had been before but otherwise kept the plants tame to expectation.

A waterfall she had wanted having formed, its water creating a natural pathway through her room, when descending down, it formed a 3-tire pool down and when it crossed her pathways, the river deepened under to form a natural bridge over, allowing the water to continue onwards towards the door, where only now a single pathway stood in front and a large pond that began to fill underneath. It only took a touch to fill it with plant life, like water lilies, submerged plants to keep it oxygenated and reeds. A few floating plants made it look stunning.

All in all, Isabela was exhaustedly content to leave it at that for now; her statue section could wait until she figured out what to do with it so she closed it off with a wall of a deep red curtain of flowers. Abuela may not like it, but Isabela hoped it would be enough. She wanted to do much more… but she knew better. What she had done today was enough and certainly after yesterday… it just wasn’t worth it to add too much.

Isabela inhaled deeply though she smiled softly as she looked into the pond. She’d get some fish for it, maybe liven it up a little if she was allowed.

She padded out from her room, humming to herself and headed straight to the kitchen. It was too early for lunch but she felt famished now with so much work. It didn’t take long to find spare food and start munching, filling her plate before her eyes caught her mother’s cookbooks.

Tio had been out but…she vaguely recalled what he had suggested. Books. Studying. Proper study and if she was seen studying…maybe they’d see her being careful. It had been a while since she had her gift since she needed to learn the basics; in the early days, she needed to learn how to keep her plants alive. She had learned what she needed to then.

Isabela set the plate down, coming to reach for the book before she pulled it down and flipped it open. Could she make herbs?

“What are you doing?”

Isabela jumped out of her skin, a vivid sensation of thorns growing suddenly along her shoulders before she turned to see her mother in the doorway, the book clattering onto the counter side and narrowly avoided her plate.

Julieta’s face was passive, though the look of disappointment hadn’t fully faded from her face, she looked puzzled before her eye flickered between her, the food and the book.

“I…I was just looking, Mama.” Isabela reasoned, immediately shaking the thorns away before her mother could see them. “I’m not in trouble for wanting to read now, am I?” She couldn’t help it as it slipped out but she didn’t see why she had to be questioned about this. Yesterday, sure and Isa had wished her mother hadn't left last night so she could properly explain... But this? it wasn’t like she was going to take it back to her room. God forbid, she’d lose it and then she would get into trouble.

Still, maybe she should turn her other space into a study area? She’d need a bookshelf…maybe redesign that section on paper than wing it. Isabela churned that idea more in her mind; she’d have to get books from in town when she could leave but still… it was a starting point.

“Of course not.” Julieta exhaled deeply. “I… just didn’t expect you to look through my books.” She carried on in and set her empty baskets on the side, dusting her hands off.

Still feeling her stare, Isabela pursed her lips before she picked the book up and shoved it back onto the shelf, ignoring the exasperated looks on her mother’s face at that. Clearly she’ll just get her own. Maybe she could find Luisa to help if Tio forgot.

“Isa…”

“What, Mama?”

“Don’t play passive-aggressive with me, please.” Julieta sighed out tiredly.

“I’m not. I’ve decided I don’t need your books to read.” Isabela remarked coolly, grabbing her plate again. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” She didn’t wait before she hurried off.

#encanto #encanto au #decay au #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #alma madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #dolores madrigal #agustin madrigal #agustín madrigal #decay madrigals #decay isabela #julieta madrigal #drabble

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huggybug · 2 years

Text

when it rains, it pours - matty beniers

word count: 1.4k words

um hello i wrote this in 30 mins at 1am so don’t hate me if it’s bad🫣 but the world needs more matty love and something about yelling at him in the rain is very therapeutic to my soul

“She’s still there?” You furrowed your eyebrows when you heard Brendan’s voice. Walking down the hallway in Matty’s new apartment in Seattle, you were quick to figure out that he was on facetime with his friend so you hung back, hoping to not disturb him.

“Yeah dude, I think she’s going home in a couple days” Matty replied.

“She better be gone before I get there, we’ve gotta tear shit up bro” Brendan said and Matty laughed loudly. You probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping but isn’t there a rule like if someone’s talking about you then it’s fair game? That’s what you’ll go with anyways.

“Yeah yeah, trust me I’ll have her back home long before that” Your breath hitched and you could feel the tears pricking you eyes. While maybe what he said wasn’t particularly bad, you had felt like you’d been walking on eggshells this entire trip.

He asked you to come out to see his new place and maybe catch a game or two. He bought you a plane ticket and picked you up at the airport before taking you around his new home, a place you could already tell he loved. However, with everything he showed you, it just made you feel out of place.

You were apart of his college life. The two years of fun he got to have before starting his career and as amazing as it was to see him finally playing in the NHL, you knew that you weren’t meant to be here alongside him.

This was different. Seattle had captured Matty’s heart in a way he’d sworn would never happen because he ‘loved Michigan too much’. He looked at home here, it was natural for him. His life was already set up and planned out without leaving room for you. It was just as well though because at the end of the day, you were in Ann Arbor and he was here, simple as that.

You ran back to the bedroom, taking a few deep breaths as you tried to collect yourself before figuring out the best move. It only took a few minutes and a text to your mom to have her book a flight back to Michigan and you were ready to go.

You were doing him a favour, he deserved to have a fresh start, to not have to worry about his girlfriend back in college across the country. It would be easier this way. Once your bags were packed, you towed them out to the main area of his apartment. Matty was still on the couch but his phone was resting on the table and he was watching a replay of his game last night.

“Oh hey, we’re gonna meet for dinner at- what are you doing?” Matty cuts himself off when he sees you standing with your suitcase. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going home” You say, your voice coming out a little hoarse but you clear your throat, ignoring the feeling.

“What? Your flight isn’t for another couple days babe, did something happen?” You’re frozen as he gets up off the couch and makes his way over to you.

“I think we should break up” You blurt out, surprising yourself just as much as him. You weren’t even sure if there was anything to break up. He claimed that he didn’t think labels were important, that your feelings should be enough to not warrant a silly label. In hindsight, that should have been a red flag.

“Can we talk about this?” He was confused. Everything was going well, he thought inviting you out here would show you how serious he was and that he wanted to take the next step with you, at least that’s what Nick told him.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going home, good luck here Matty, you’re going to do great” You knew he would. He was Matty freaking Beniers, of course he will be amazing, it just sucked that you wouldn’t be here with him.

“Y/n! You can’t just leave like this what the hell!” Matty yells and you flinch. He’s never yelled at you and you hated it. It lit a fire in you that gave you the courage to actually walk out the door. You grab your suitcase and practically run to the door but Matty’s quick behind you, trying to grab your hand to stop you.

“Stop- just let me go” You storm out of the house and into the rainy streets of Seattle, not even caring that you didn’t have a jacket, you just had to get away from him.

“Y/n! Stop! Come on!” You ignored Matty’s calls, focusing on your steps as you felt the rain mix with the tears on your cheeks. “Don’t do this! I love you!”You whip around to see him standing right behind you, panting a little from chasing you down the street.

“You’ve never loved me Matty, we both know that” It was all just a game to him, you were something to keep him busy while he waited for his real life to start. He never intended on bringing you along, you were never supposed to make it that far.

“Don’t say that” He huffed, reaching to grab your hands but you pull away. The rain continued to pelt down around you but the heat in his gaze was enough to distract you from your drenched clothes that were now sticking to your body.

“Why not? It’s true isn’t it? Isn’t that what you were talking to Brendan about?” Matty sucked in a sharp breath, he didn’t know that you heard him. “Yeah, you need me to leave so that you can go party with him so here you go, I’m making it easier on you”

“Babe, come on. That’s not-”

“Don’t. I can’t do this with you Matty” You didn’t want to hear a lame excuse. It would only make things worse.

“I thought bringing your out here would help make sense of everything. That it’d show us that long distance wouldn’t be so terrible and we could do it” He reached for your hand and this time, you let him. “Brendan was being an asshole, I swear whatever you heard it doesn’t mean anything”

“You don’t want me to leave?” You ask hesitantly and he scoffs, as if it were a completely ridiculous question.

“If you could, I would’ve had you move in with me in August” Matty smiled softly, “I always want you here, trust me”

“Swear?”

“I swear. Why wouldn’t I want my girl here?”

“Didn’t know I was your girl” You mumbled and Matty rolled his eyes.

“You wanna know the first thing I told Truss after I met you at that party?” He asked and you looked at him before nodding. “I said ‘if I don’t end up with her, I must’ve seriously fucked it up’ and yeah, maybe I was drunk out of my mind but I meant it and he reminds me of it all the time” You chuckle which makes him smile. “I love you and I’m not letting you go like this. You’re my everything, I don’t know when you decided that I wasn’t yours but you’ve always been mine” His eyes burned into yours and as much as you wanted to look away, to call a car to come pick you up and take you away, you couldn’t.

“I love you, always have and always will” You finally cave, squeezing his hands in reassurance.

“Yeah? So you’re not running out on me?” He asked humorously, smirking down at you.

“One condition”

“Anything” He grinned lazily.

“Am I your girlfriend?”

“Of course. I told you, you’re my everything give yourself any title you want, I don’t care. All I care about is if I have you” He pulls you into him and you go easily, finally feeling a little at ease in the new city. The moment seems to freeze when he kisses you, the rain falling around you goes silent and it’s suddenly just the two of you.

“This is so cliché Matty” You giggle once the moment ends. He wipes a tear from your face, still holding you close.

“What? Yelling at each other in the street?”

“No” You laugh, “Just something about the rain” It was something out of a movie but you loved it.

“Well it rains a lot in Seattle so you better get used to it” Matty replies, grabbing your bag as he guides you back to his apartment.

“Yeah I guess I should” You definitely plan on spending more time here, rain or not.

#matty beniers x reader #matty beniers imagine #matty beniers fic #seattle kraken #hockey writing #hockey fic #nhl players #nhl fanfiction

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

Hostage - Okkotsu Yuta

At first when I saw this my internal response was that there was nothing that I really wanted to write, no scenario that would warrant answering such a question. But I’ve given it time and well...what better thing to write than a horny for love delusional yandere? Gender neutral and Okkotsu in this has graduated from the school, I imagine him to be mid-20s 4.8k words

Content warnings: yandere shit(which in this context includes kidnapping, past stalking and being really fucking creepy), manipulation, noncon hand job

How long had you been here in this dark basement with only a red couch and a TV that wouldn’t turn on? There wasn’t a single window to tell you if it was day or night, no clock on the wall to say if it had been ten minutes or ten hours since you were kidnapped. You didn’t even know who could have taken you, knocked out from behind after hearing a mysterious voice.

There wasn’t a single lead to go on except for the fact that you would pass out from time to time and wake up to food on the low coffee table, hot meals that helped to soothe your otherwise empty mind and body for however short a time it allowed. Sometimes there would be candy stuffed into your pockets as well, candy that you never ate and let pile up in one of the corners of the room.

The door at the top of the stairs leading down to where you were stayed locked at all times and no amount of banging and screaming and trying to break it down worked. All your efforts were for nothing, you didn’t even make a scratch in the wood.

Whoever put you down here seemed too hesitant to show you their identity. You never heard anyone outside the door and whenever you thought you did, you would wake up however many hours later with food and no recollection of what happened before then.

Until today, when the door silently swayed open and there was the barely there tap of footsteps coming down to greet you. Scurrying behind the couch and crouching down, you were scared to finally meet your captor.

“Hello there.” He wasn’t at all what you imagined. A young man with noticeable bags under his eyes, hair with a few strands that fell into his face and an otherwise unassuming and slim build. His voice was soft and gentle like he was talking to a baby as he roused them from slumber.

He immediately noticed the way you were trying to stay away from him, making sure to keep the couch between you as he rounded it. A sad sigh left his lips, a short sound like he was already getting frustrated with what you were doing.

“Darling, why don’t you sit down? There’s a lot to discuss.” Gesturing toward the couch, he took a seat at the end. It was then that you noticed the sheathed sword he had on his back as he took it off and laid it on the table.

Your mouth hadn’t been used to speak to anyone in a long time, tongue heavy and foreign in your mouth. Having given up screaming for help a long time ago, you didn’t speak to anyone unless to yourself, and even then it had devolved to being just thoughts in your head.

So you shook your head no, trying to keep your sudden anxious breathing down to a minimum. You’d waited for this day to finally see who took you but now that he was here in front of you, just his presence brought you great stress.

“Are you feeling okay?” The man asked again, brows furrowing slightly. The look of genuine concern on his face is what caused you to speak, spiking anger in your heart.

“No!” You shouted, surprising both him and yourself.

“Why don’t you sit down, hm?” He patted the cushion next to him and you shook your head harder.

“No, no. L-let me go!” Tears were already beginning to collect in your eyes, some spilling out the sides. Were they from anger at being held captive? From how concerned he looked when he was the one who put you there? Was it from fear of what he could do to you? Perhaps hopelessness at the whole situation was starting to set into places you tried so hard to keep it out of.

“You shouldn’t yell, (Y/N), it’s not good for your throat.”

“What the fuck would you know.” Now anger was truly taking residency inside your chest, making it tighten with each pounding beat of your heart. This man had the nerve to call you by your first name as if he was a friend, the syllables rolling so smoothly off his tongue it sounded as if he had said it a hundred times.

“Don’t swear at me.” He snapped, face immediately going hard as he stared you down. The look made a shiver go down your spine, the anger quickly making space for fear to come as well. He sighed again, glancing at his sword before looking at you again. “Now please, won’t you sit down?”

This time when he asked, you listened. Hovering on the very edge of the cushion farthest from him, your entire body was painfully stiff and unyielding even to your own breathing. It was different when you were standing and he was sitting, it felt like there was a level of control that you still had.

But this felt like you were just a pitiful little rabbit with their neck caught right in a lion's mouth.

“Oh darling don’t cry, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His tone immediately shifted back to the soft and gentle one from earlier. Reaching his hand out, he stopped short of touching your arm when you curled yourself away. Putting his hand into a fist and tucking it back into his lap, he let out a sharp exhale. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t touch you, should I? You must be nervous now that I’m here.”

Sniffling and nodding were all you could do to answer him. Maybe there was a logical reason he might have taken you, there had to be a solution to whatever problem he had that involved you.

“It’s funny, I’d say. We’re soulmates and yet we’re still so nervous with each other.”

What?

“Why, it took me almost two weeks just to do this much! I finally stopped having Inumaki put you to sleep and-”

Huh?

“Before you know it this will all be a distant memory, we’ll be living together-”

“Wh-what the fuck.” Your voice was meek and trembling and there were fat tears streaming down your face that couldn’t be stopped now. Listening to this man go on and on about this life he’d made for the two of you all in his head was going to drive you insane.

“What was that?” He paused, a hopeful smile on his face. Glancing at him, you set your bleary eyes on the sword.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” As the swear left your lips, you flinched at his sudden inhale. “I-I don’t- I don’t know you. We’ve never met.” Burrowing your face in your hands was probably a bad idea, it was probably best to keep him in your line of sight, but you just couldn’t face him.

“Physically we’ve never met, but our hearts have. Our souls are connected, we just had to find each other.” There was a dip in the cushions and the ghost of his knee brushed yours.

“I don’t even know your name!” You croaked, further curling in on yourself by dropping your head to your knees. At this rate you were set to fall off the couch and onto the floor and you welcomed the reprieve not being next to him would bring.

“I’m Yuta. Yuta Okkotsu.” The first touch of his fingers on your shoulder made you yelp and jerk away, and you could imagine his hand hovering in the air. “But you can just call me your boyfriend, okay?”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Getting up from the couch the second time he touched you, you pressed yourself against the furthest wall next to a chess table with no pieces.

“Darling-”

“No, don’t fucking call me that!” Stamping your foot on the ground, you ignored his warning tone.

“(Y/N), I told you-”

“I don’t give a damn! I don’t want to be part of whatever bullshit you said earlier! Just- just let me go!” You were getting hysterical at this point, your whole body was hot and sweaty and your face was on fire. It was hard to hear anything over the ringing and pounding in your ears giving you headache.

Except you were able to hear the sound of a knife going through the air and feel it graze your cheek before sticking into the wall behind you. Everything fell away as you looked at the silver blade glinting in the harsh fluorescent light above you. There was just the tiniest hint of red at the edge, further proof that what you felt was real.

“I don’t mind you getting upset, I don’t mind you yelling and screaming at me. It’s a normal reaction to such a new situation.” Yuta’s low voice cut through the sudden silence and he stood up slowly, swaying slightly on his feet before planting them firmly on the ground. “But what I won’t have is such ugly words coming out of your mouth. That type of language doesn’t belong in a mouth as pretty as yours.”

He walked over to you slowly, building the tension with every step he took. It was then that you noticed, when he was only a foot away, that the silver of the knife matched the silver buttons on his shirt.

“If I have to remind you again, I promise I won’t miss.” Letting the sentence hang in the air, Yuta gave you a once over before grabbing onto your wrist and upper arm tightly and dragging you back to the couch. His strength was much more than you first assumed, there wasn’t a chance in hell that you could ever hope to wiggle out of his hold.

Sitting down with a huff, he pulled you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Putting your hands on his shoulders, he settled his on your hips, making sure you were properly seated on his outstretched legs. Staring at the buttons on his shirt, you tried to avoid getting too close - keeping at least some semblance of an arms length between you and making sure your sex was far from his.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” It was amazing how easily his mood shifted from one to the other. What had just been a quite heavy and intense moment was washed away by a little uptick of his lips and the tilt of his head to the side.

The things you wished to say were lodged in your mouth, waiting on the tip of your tongue for you to open up and let them fall out. But you couldn’t afford to keep testing his patience like this, not after what just happened.

“I suppose.” So you bite your tongue hard and say what you think will get you closer to getting out. Whatever it is he wants you can give him so long as it keeps him happy and lets you walk free.

“I knew you’d come around.” The smile on Yuta’s face takes proper form, pushing the apples of his cheeks up and wrinkling his eyes. One hand on your hips dares to venture further onto the small of your back. The warmth of his palm would be comforting in another setting.

“Y-yuta.” It almost makes you sick to say his name.

“Yes?” It makes his eyes light up.

“When will I get to leave?” Somewhere along the line you’d stopped crying and now only your eyes burned with the memory of the tears.

“When I know you’re ready, (Y/N).” He said softly, rubbing a hand on your back.

“Ready how?”

“I just want to make sure of a few things before we start our new life together. Is that okay?”

Did you really have a choice?

“What things?” You pushed, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about that right now. We’re together now and that’s all that matters.”

“Please tell me, I really want to know.”

“(Y/N).” He sang your name but it was anything but cheery. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, so drop it please.” Even though he was speaking his mouth barely moved, jaw locked tight in hardly hidden frustration.

“Okay.” You quickly let the subject go.

“Now darling…” Yuta brought a hand up to your face, trailing his fingers down your cheek softly. “Won’t you smile for me? You have such a pretty smile.”

The question of how he knew what your smile looked like cropped up in your head but you quickly stamped it out. Now wasn’t the time to worry about those things. Doing as he asked, you gave him your best smile.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” Skimming his thumb along your bottom lip, Yuta grasped your chin in his fingers. “I’ve been missing your smile so much lately, the recent missions I’ve been on have really put a damper on my mood.”

“I’m- I’m sorry to hear that.” Extending an olive branch wouldn’t hurt, right? It was clear he wanted your compliance in this scheme of his, desperate to have you love him. Your words shot straight into Yuta’s heart, making him bite his lip in to stop a shy giggle from coming out.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I have my darling with me.” A light blush went over his cheeks and Yuta let a sliver of the giggle out. “But there is something that would make me feel even better.”

“What’s that?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant when his thumb touched your lip again.

“A kiss. Just one, I promise.” Licking his own lips, Yuta grabbed onto your jaw more firmly. “I swear I’ll be gentle.” Weighing your options, the inkling that it wouldn’t be ‘just one’ was in the back of your head. But as long as it stayed just kissing, maybe you’d be okay.

“One.” You repeated, allowing him to pull you in and close the gap between you. Kissing Yuta was something that, once again, would feel nice in any other circumstance. The texture of his lips wasn’t bad, his breath didn’t smell and he seemed to know what he was doing. Maybe in another world, you really could have been soulmates.

Breaking the first kiss to take a short inhale, Yuta immediately went in for another. The hand that was on your jaw slid up to the back of your head, holding it firmly in his calloused hand to make sure you didn’t move.

“Y-yuta!” Whining against his lips, you tried to push away from him.

“Just one, I know! I know but-” He mumbled back, the tip of his tongue daring to touch your pursed lips. “I can’t help it, I love you so much.” Crushing you against him, Yuta got his tongue into your mouth when you gasped for air. The urge to bite him arose and you almost did, but he pulled away right as you made the decision to.

“You said only one!” Giving his chest a hard push, you wiped the spit off your lips in disgust.

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Putting his hands on your back, Yuta grimaced at you. “I’m sorry darling, I just got excited! I’ve been dreaming of kissing you for so long, can you blame me for wanting more?”

You could blame him for that and a few other things. Wiping your mouth off again, you huffed angrily and avoided his sorry eyes.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t lie to you anymore, I promise.” Yuta mumbled, already forcing you closer again. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Yuta, no.” Shaking your head, you put a hand over your mouth. The blush that was on Yuta’s cheeks got darker and a hand gripped the back of your neck.

“It may be a bit soon, but there are other places where I can kiss you.” Latching his lips onto the side of your neck, Yuta sucked on the skin lightly. He didn’t want to leave any unseemly marks on you and he wouldn’t dream of using his teeth.

“Yuta, get off.” Tugging on his collar, you squirmed at the feeling. “P-please, Yuta, get off.” You were getting more desperate by the moment, accelerated by his lips going down the column of your throat and to the collar of your top.

“I just want to kiss you, (Y/N).”

“No, no I don’t-” As his head nudged your chin up, you started to sweat and really yank at the fabric in your hands. “I don’t want you to kiss me there, Yuta!” Your voice reached a crescendo and the soft sound of his kisses stopped. Pulling away slowly, Yuta kept his head ducked down.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Releasing the hold on your neck, Yuta smooths his hand down your back once more and threads his fingers together at the base of your spine.

Struggling to catch your breath, you force yourself to relax and let your head dip down, uncurling the fingers fisting the fabric of Yutas shirt and letting the blood naturally flow back to them.

As the silent seconds tick by, there’s something that comes into your consciousness that can’t be ignored. There’s already a good amount of heat built up between you and Yuta from the kisses you shared and the struggle that ensued.

But was he that much of a repressed man that just kissing your lips and neck had his cock standing at half attention? It seemed so, because when you made a face at it, he chuckled sheepishly.

“Sorry.” Yuta wasn’t sorry for what was happening. He didn’t feel remorse for any of this, especially not the thing that was causing you distress now. It was only natural for such a reaction to occur! You were squirming so much on his lap while he kissed you that it was like you were begging him to get hard.

Gently raking his nails up and down your back, Yuta stared hard at your lips. His gaze almost pierced right through you and he wasn’t subtle about wanting another kiss. Another slurry of apologies left Yuta’s lips as he once again grabbed the back of your head and forced you to kiss him. His words got mushed together, spoken against your lips as he tried to work his tongue into your mouth.

Whatever screams of protest you had didn’t matter in this moment, Yuta was a man on a mission and desperate to take what was his. He felt bad about pushing your boundaries and ruining the chance of growing an actual relationship any time soon, but those were things he was willing to sacrifice.

And after all, good boyfriends help their partners grow in uncomfortable situations.

Moaning in a high pitch when your crotch just barely grazed his, Yuta took advantage of the fact you were too busy trying to push him away to focus on your lower half. Grabbing you tightly at the hips, he dragged you forward and fully pushed you against the front of his pants.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He panted as he moved your bodies in tandem, getting bolder and bucking his hips like a sad teenager dry humping for the first time. This continued for a while and you were sure he was going to cum when he suddenly stopped and flopped his head back against the couch.

Fervently wiping off your lips, the urge to slap him came over you in a blinding rage, and you quickly swiped your hand down. Fully expecting to make contact with his face, you put all the strength you could into the motion only to be stopped by Yuta grabbing your wrist.

“Hitting isn’t very nice, (Y/N).” He sounded like a disappointed preschool teacher and when you raised your other hand to try and slap him he caught that one as well. Holding both your wrists tightly in his grasp, Yuta stared at your heaving chest as he thought about what to do.

“Let me go.” You said, trying to tug yourself free.

“Sshh, I’m thinking.” His eyes wouldn’t leave your chest and he licked his lips. “I think I know a better use for your hands.” Letting go of one of them, Yuta was quick to go to the button on his jeans and undo them.

Your fingers were touching his clothed cock before you had a chance to protest. The speed Yuta moved at was dizzying and you seemed to be about 10 seconds behind him, left to scramble and catch up on whatever he’d done.

“Just a little, please?” Yuta whined and gripped your fingers around his cock, digging into the fabric of his dark underwear and outlining the shape of his cock.

“Yuta…” Back were the tears, a light misting this time that blurred your vision. It was gross touching him, even as the scent of a minty body wash rolled off him. This was gross, the heat from his cock and the way the skin moved beneath your fingers all felt horribly off.

“Just be good for me, (Y/N), I know you can do that.” Giving your lips a quick peck, Yuta let out a shaky exhale. His hand was holding yours so tightly your hand pulsed, throbbing from lack of circulation.

Touching him through his underwear quickly became not enough for Yuta and he hurriedly pulled his cock out, shoving his underwear down his thighs a bit to make more room. Unbuttoning the large overshirt he had on, Yuta let out another exhale as the sweat evaporated off his body.

“Are you shy? Here, touch it like this.” Gingerly now he wrapped your hand around his shaft, squeezing with just enough pressure to make sure you were really holding it. You tried to avoid looking at it, staring at the tanktop Yuta had on underneath his other shirt.

Tilting your head up, he kissed you gently as he worked your hand up and down his cock, slowly loosening his hold the longer he went until he was able to let go and you were still stroking him.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. “So, so much.” You whimpered in response, keeping your eyes tightly closed to avoid looking at him. “I’ve followed you for so long now, it feels amazing to finally be here with you.”

“Followed?” You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to know, you didn’t-

“Six months. For six long, agonizing months I watched you from the shadows. Making sure you were safe, following you home from work to make sure no one messed with you, going into your home when you weren’t there to make sure you didn’t have the stove on-”

“Stop.” Sniffling back another wave of tears, you shook your head. “I-I can’t, please-”

“You’re right, I’m killing the mood.” Chuckling softly, Yuta kissed at the corner of your eye. Putting his hand back on yours, he sped up the pace and bucked his hips up. “A-and I really don’t want to do that.”

Kissing you again lest he start rambling again, Yuta moaned freely into your mouth. He had dreamed of this moment and so many others, staying up late at night just fantasizing about you touching him and finally being in his arms.

To say he was pent up was an understatement. Ever since he saw you, Yuta vowed not to touch himself, wanting you to be the only one that gave him such pleasure. It was a painful wait, but every time he saw you he knew it was worth it - and it was. He was already nearing an orgasm and it hadn’t even been that long.

“Oh darling-” His face started to screw up and Yuta broke the kiss, putting his head on your shoulder and making your hand go faster. “God I love you, (Y/N)! I lo-love-” He was babbling now, unable to focus on any full sentence coming out of his mouth. “Say it- tell me.”

“Say what?” You asked, struggling to keep your breathing even as you felt him get closer to the edge.

“You love me. Tell me you- tell me you love me, even if it’s not true yet.” Yuta was so close it hurt, but he refused to cum unless you said those words.

“I-I-” The desire to not say it was strong, keeping you from really forming the words. It wasn’t true right now and it would never be true. You would never love Yuta for as long as you lived.

“Say it, say it please!” Yuta wailed, his other hand gripping your waist so hard you were afraid he was going to break something. “I love you so much, just say it back!”

“I love you! Yuta, I love you, okay?” His hold was really starting to hurt and as soon as you said it, he let go. “I love you, I love you.” You repeated over and over until his body locked up and he came with an almost sobbing moan.

“Oh god, darling, I love you.” Yuta wasn’t crying but he might as well have been. His hand stopped for a brief moment before continuing, coating the back of his hand and your fingers in his cum. He kept going until he was able to squeeze the last drop of cum out of him, swiping at the tip with his thumb until the sensation began to hurt.

It was too quiet now in the room without Yuta’s frantic breathing and mindless babbles. Taking deep, gasping breaths, he forced himself to calm down and let go of your hand, letting his softening cock fall down against him.

“Here.” In his pocket he had a handkerchief and Yuta wiped your hand clean, diligently going between the digits and getting every last pearly drop. Throwing it onto the coffee table, Yuta collapsed back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

His face was impossibly blissed out, a dopey smile stretching his face and showing off his teeth. He couldn’t be happier in this moment, the weight of your body on his lap a constant reminder that this was real life, the reality that he had been dreaming of and striving for for so long.

The door he had entered from creaked open much faster than when he entered, and there were thundering footsteps descending the stairs quickly. Yuta immediately perked up, hugging you close to his chest as he turned over his shoulder to look at who came in.

“This is a surprise.” There was a tall, lanky man standing at the bottom of the steps, his white hair sticking up in all directions. You wondered how he could see with a blindfold on and Yuta seemed happy to see him.

“Gojo, hello!” Rushing to fix his pants, Yuta helped you off his lap and stood up.

“I see you’ve finally made yourself acquainted.” Gojo grinned, his head flicking towards you for a moment.

“Mhmm! We uh- we’re having a great time getting to know each other.” Yuta flushed, trying to not make it obvious that his pants had just been undone and that you’d just been jerking him off.

“Well I hate to break up a happy couple, but there’s a visitor here for you. I think you’re going to have another mission soon.”

“Really, so soon? I just-” Glancing at you, Yuta bit his tongue. “I’ll be back soon.” Grabbing his sword and the knife still stuck in the wall, Yuta gave you one more look before walking past Gojo and up the stairs. As soon as the door clicked closed, you shot up from the couch and walked around to Gojo.

“Please, you have to help me, get me out of here!” Clasping your hands together in front of you, you pleaded as hard as you could. “H-he’s absolutely crazy, please help me!” Unable to look Gojo in the eye, you could only assume he was looking back at you from the way his head moved.

“That’s not very nice, now is it?” He questioned, quirking a brow and crossing his arms. “Yuta loves you so much, you shouldn’t say those things about him.”

“Sir please, you don’t understand!” Shaking your head hard, you let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t belong here! He kidnapped me, don’t you understand?!” It felt like you were the only sane one left in the world. Gojo chuckled and sighed, placing a large hand on the top of your head and leaning forward.

“Actually, Yuta wasn’t the one that actually kidnapped you.” A soft ‘no’ escaped your lips and Gojo laughed again, drinking in the sinking feeling in your gut and the way it twisted your face in agony. “It was me.”

#tw: noncon #tw: yandere #jujutsu kaisen #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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wattpadscapcons · 3 years

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New Year Prompt: Ball Drop w/ Tsurugi Kinjo

Entry for @silladelareina

What was the hardest part of this whole ordeal? Convincing him to take a few days off so you could visit a major city in a foreign country for an event he really didn't care much about. Sure, Tsurugi loved spending time with you, being close to you was one of the things that kept him sane most days. But a foreign country? You couldn't possibly be serious.

"You expect me to take a week off of work to visit a place we both have never been just so you can watch the "Ball Drop"?"

"Yes."

"No way in hell."

"Whyyyyy?"

"I have better things to worry about than you getting lost in a big crowd on the streets of New York."

"That's why I want you to go with me."

"Y/N, as much as I want to spend New Years with you, you know I just can't stop in the middle of a case."

"I already asked you superior. They said it was fine. You haven't used any of your vacation days anyways."

He almost dropped his coffee mug. He felt a sting where some of the coffee spilled onto his uniform. You went behind his back to ask for him to get time off. You're absolutely going to pay for this, as for when though, you'll never expect it.

"I'm so getting you back for this."

"You can do that later, you have to get your suitcase packed."

"You had this planned didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Be glad you haven't done anything illegal."

"Stealing your heart isn't a crime?~"

"Don't push it Y/N."

Your plan was working flawlessly, he had his things packed and on the plane by the next morning. He wasn't doing so well with it though, you could describe it as him constantly squirming in his seat, but event that wouldn't fit his uneasiness. He was starting to create such a negative aura that people around the two of you were starting to feel it as well.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"I did kind of blackmail you didn't I?"

"I can arrest you later, I'm too tired for that now."

"Ah, the jet lag must be getting to you. Just try to take it easy."

"I'm so used to moving all of the time. This feels so unnatural."

"It'll only be.....12 hours. Mm lovely."

"There is no way in hell that anyone expects me to stay in one spot for that long."

"Well no. I don't think they'd think kindly of a police officer pacing back and forth in the isles though. There are movies you can watch. They even has some games downloaded for passengers to pass the time with, see?."

"Ugh...."

He had almost lost his mind by the time the plane had actually landed. How it was you were able to keep him calm the entire ride and keep him from tearing out his hair is a mystery to the other passengers on the flight. He practically dragged you off the plane, which in his case, was warranted.

"Thank god.... One more minute on that plane and I would have lost my damn mind."

"I know you're tired, but you know the time differences right?"

"You've got to be kidding me...."

"I'm sorry."

"This ball drop better be something special or a I swear to god."

"Just take it easy Tsurugi..."

What is there for a police officer to do after dealing with culture shock? You've been finding that he's been spacing out more and more as the week goes by. Trying to learn culture from a place he only knew the language from wasn't exactly his strong suit. Getting takeout seemed to be a hassle too sadly. You weren't expecting him to get so stressed out just by taking a week off. Maybe this was a bit too much of a change for him to take at once.

Comforting him every time his brain started to melt aside.... Everything else seemed to be ok. Shopping, eating out, actually getting him out of a police station for once, while those might all be foreign to him, he'll slowly become more accustom to it. There are a few nights that he gets up at some ungodly hour of the morning to "get ready for work" only to realize he can't even do that.

"I tried to tell you."

"I know...."

Finally came new years day! What a disaster that day was.

An hour before the drop was set to happen, he lost you in the crowd. He knew it would happen! He told you! He was starting to really freak out by the time that you spotted him. You were just as equally freaked out, he had walked away from you. You asked him to wait so you could look at something, and then turn around to see that he was gone. Did he not hear you over the music?

"There you are! I told you to wait, did you not hear me?"

You unintentionally scared him by grabbing him while his back was turned to you and he almost pulled his gun on you. You forgot that he could be spooked easily.

"Hey! It's just me. Calm down."

"....."

It only took him a second to regain his composure before he pulled you off to the side, where he could do damage control. The damn music in the area was too loud for him to even hear you then.

"Where were you? I turned around and you were gone!"

"I didn't hear say you were stopping."

You didn't really get to wait on the streets to see the event in person like you hoped. Tsurugi was too paranoid that he was going to lose you again in the crowd. God knows what could happen to you then! So, instead of being out on the street like you planned, you had to watch the event on tv from your hotel room.

"Well, that was a big waste of time..."

"Tsurugi, you have to be there in person to get the excitement of the event. You shouldn't just dismiss it..."

"I'm not letting you back outside just to lose you again. You are staying right here, where I can see you."

In short, your protective police officer was almost monitoring your every move until the trip was over, and you were home. That being said, he never wants to leave Japan without a security team again.

I made him a little more on the negative side, hope that's ok! I wasn't really feeling it for such a moody police officer.

#tsurugi kinjo #dra x reader #dra tsurugi x reader #dra tsurugi #super danganronpa another 2 #danganronpa #dra #danganronpa another

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redrobin-detective · 3 years

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exile

Maddie Fenton woke up on the worst day of her life with a headache. That wasn’t at all unusual, Jack’s snoring could be grating even when asleep. Combined with too many late nights in the lab, too much coffee and just general stress about her work and her kids... it seemed Maddie woke up with a headache more often then not. Jack was the early riser of the two of them so he was already awake and likely starting work in the lab. He’d knock on the kids’ doors to get them up but Danny always needed a special touch, or an aggressive shove, to get up.

Maddie got up and dressed and made her way downstairs, Jazz’s room was cracked and she heard her daughter bustling inside. Danny’s was still shut tight. She knocked forcefully on the door. “Danny honey, it’s 6:30, you need to start getting ready for school.” She got no answer but she didn’t always get one. She had a feeling it was going to be one of those mornings. Setting downstairs, she’d just started the coffee machine when the phone rang.

“Now who is calling at this hour?” Maddie asked herself, picking up the phone. “FentonWorks, this is Maddie Fen-”

“You tell my daughter to come home right this instant!” Pam Manson’s shrill voice came over the phone. Maddie winced and pulled the phone back from her ear. “And you tell her she can kiss that horrible death metal whatever concert she was going to on Saturday goodbye! I will not have my young, impressionable daughter thinking she can tramp around god knows where-”

“Pam, slow down,” Maddie interrupted, irate as always when dealing with the woman. “Sam isn’t here, I didn’t see her at all yesterday or today.” Or Danny, Maddie thought privately with a frown. Pamela’s fury and frustration was understandable in a way. Maddie also had no idea what her own child was up to most days.

“She’s not there?” Pam said quietly after a few moments of silence. “Are you sure?” She added a bit more frantically. “Because she’s not in her bedroom and her bed looks like she never slept in it. She’s not answering her phone but she sometimes doesn’t when she’s sees it’s-” Pam took a deep steadying breath. “Can you check and make certain she’s not there? I’m going to call Angela.” Pam hung up suddenly and Maddie pulled back and looked at the phone, biting her lip with nerves. The coffee maker screeching to life behind her startled her so much that she jumped.

“Goodness,” She said, setting the phone down and thinking. She was certain she hadn’t seen Sam. The last time she’d seen her son’s friend was the day before last when she and Tucker had dragged a very exhausted, bruised up Danny home. Took a fall down the stairs, they’d said, not explaining why their clothes were worn and hands scratched up. Frowning, she wandered to the top of the lab steps. “Jack, you haven’t seen Sam around, have you? Danny’s friend?”

“Sam?” She heard Jack shout back, he poked his head around the corner. “No, did she stay the night? By the way, did you move some of the weapons. I can’t seem to find a few of them...”

“Jack that’s not important right now, Pamela doesn’t know where she is,” Maddie said sharply. She felt a little bad watching as Jack’s face become pensive but she was too anxious herself to apologize. She turned and walked towards the upstairs steps. “I’m going to ask Danny.”

She can’t deny that a subtle little thrill went through her when she got onto the second floor landing and saw Danny’s door open. The sink was running in the bathroom and she knocked heartily on the door. “Daniel Fenton, Mrs. Manson can’t find her daughter and if I find you had her over without telling anyone you are going to be in so much-”

The door opened revealing Jazz with her eyes wide and a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. “Waz goin on?” she asked around the brush. She took out the brush and spit out into the sink. “I poked my head into Danny’s room to wake him up but he wasn’t in there.” Her eyebrows furrowed, “they can’t find Sam?”

Feeling lightheaded, Maddie walked down the hall to Danny’s room to find no one there. She can’t put her finger on why but it didn’t just feel empty but vacant. Danny’s clothes weren’t on the floor, his desk was practically clear for the first time since they bought it. His bed was made just as she’d done it the morning before when she’d rousted her son. Distantly, she heard the phone ringing again but Maddie couldn’t bring herself to leave the deserted room.

Danny had several photos on his wall and desk, she couldn’t help but notice that two were missing. A framed photo of the entire Fenton family they’d taken last year for New Years and a particularly nice shot of Danny with his friends Jazz had snapped. They say in a crime scene, something is always taken and left behind. But why... The sound of footsteps approached her rapidly from behind.

“Mom,” Jazz with a small fearful little tone. She was holding the house phone in one hand and her cell in the other, Danny’s contact information open on her screen. It was just ringing through. “It’s Mrs. Manson, not only is Sam not at Tucker’s but... the Foleys can’t find him either. I... I told them we don’t know where Danny is at the moment. I’m trying to call but its just ringing and ringing...”

“Jasmine, calm down,” Maddie said, taking the phone away from her. “Keep trying his cell and go get your father. Pam, are you still there?” Maddie said speaking into the phone. She was met with tears on the other end.

“Where are they? How could this happen? Sammy... she has a sizable trust and could be a target for ransom but your boy and Tucker? It doesn’t make sense.” Pamela paused to take a few loud, sobbing breaths that pounded at Maddie’s headache like a jackhammer. “Unless they ran away but why? Samantha’s always been spirited but nothing like this... God, I need to call the police, we’ll be in touch.” She clicked off without another word.

“-swer your phone, please little brother. Please, I know. Know-know, I was waiting for you to come to me but now we can’t find you, Sam or Tucker and everyone’s freaking out and we just need to know that you’re all okay.” She heard Jazz speak quickly into her cell, curling in on it like she used to do with her old stuffed animals. Jack’s hands gripping her shoulders from behind, taking in the abandoned room just like she’d been.

“Mads,” Jack whispered, “where’d he go?”

Maddie would ask herself that same question in the coming days, weeks, months and years that would pass. Over the course of front page headlines and tv spots begging for information. When they found a large amount had been transferred out of Sam’s trust, when Tucker’s phone and computer was found broken in two near the dump by the interstate, when their weapons catalogue came up short. As more time passed, it became increasingly obviously the kids not only had left of their own volition but it had been a calculated, planned affair.

Maddie would lie awake late into the night and wonder where it all went wrong? What had she, or any of the grieving parents, done to warrant their children to up and leave in the middle of the night. Something had happened, something that had been under their noses, something they’d missed. And they were now paying for it.

Back in the present moment, with her husband’s warm hands on her shoulders, her daughter’s increasingly more frantic voice talking into Danny’s phone that just kept ringing and her headache pounding worse than ever, all she could do was moan. “I don’t know, they’re just gone.”

The worst day of her life was just getting started and was going to continue for a long, long while.

#my writing #written to exile by taylor bc it hit that air of missed tragedy #gonna confess this would be the start to a much longer fic I've been playing with for a few days #one I do and dont want to write #so consider this my trial run if I want to continue this #i kept some of the specific details out so this functions just as is as a one shot #i just couldnt get the image of the families waking up to find the kids have abandoned their lives and ran out of my head #anyway happy wednesday have some grief :)#if its not obvious this takes place in the sweet spot when Danny and co are actively ghost fighting but Jazz knows but isn't in the group ye #I will say that ghosts are common knowledge so think about mid S1 between public enemies and the ultimate enemy

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yumeyooa · 3 years

Text

hopelessly in love | sakusa kiyoomi

—sakusa’s got a secret: he’s a hopeless romantic; and it’s all thanks to you.

➢ pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x gender neutral! reader

➢ word count: 1.9k+

➢ warning: nothing major :>>

➢ love letter: this was supposed to be a short timestamp but it became a full blown drabble i-- T_T. i absolutely live for the trope wherein kiyoomi is a loving soft person once he’s comfortable so i just indulged myself IM SORRY i hope y’all like it and let me know what you think <33

navigation | anime masterlist

Not many people know this, but Sakusa Kiyoomi is a hopeless romantic.

It’s a secret he likes to keep to himself, afraid that if it were to fall on the ears of another, he would never be able to live it down. More so if it were the rowdy bunch he calls a team. He was sure that Atsumu, that insufferable idiot, would tease him for it every chance he got should he have known.

Which was why he keeps it discreet, hiding his wishes and desires behind a cold facade that warranted others to believe that he was anything but hopelessly in love with the idea of romance.

Well, everyone except for you.

The chimes of the bell ring as Sakusa enters your quiet bookstore just ten minutes away from his home. For the longest time, Sakusa had always loved books. They allowed him to indulge in his romantic fantasies without being so overtly apparent to the prying eyes of the world.

“Ah, Kiyoomi! Welcome back!” Like milk and honey, your voice greets him as he enters the place he had considered a paradise for the past two years. You stand up from where you sat on your desk, glasses perched atop your head as you give him a warm smile, causing a fuzzy feeling to grow in his chest.

You and Sakusa go way back, all the way to your days as a book-loving library assistant and a covert volleyball fanatic (not that Sakusa would ever admit it, but you knew better). The two of you had been classmates all throughout your high school journey, and Sakusa considered you to be one of the closest friends he had, even to this day. After all, as time has proven, nothing between the two of you has changed.

Sakusa greets you with a nod, although there’s still a kind glint in his eyes that makes you grin. As a man of few words, Sakusa’s emotions reigned supreme in the hidden crevices of his actions. Sometimes it’d take an expert or a long-time friend to even notice those tiny nuances. However, you had known Sakusa for years. It practically came like second nature to you at this point.

He sets down the book he bought from his last trip-- a translated copy of The Fault in Our Stars. There’s a determined gaze in his eyes as he softly nudges the book to you, and you try to hide your desire to coo at him, waiting for him to speak with a patient smile.

“This,” he finally says, averting his eyes. He was still embarrassed to admit he enjoyed romantic novels, even if it was in front of you. “Are there any more books like this?”

“Plot-wise? Or do you want something from the same author?” You ask curiously, already making your way around the counter to face Sakusa. He looks at you with a shy glance before mumbling “Author,” and you smile once more, gesturing to the tall player to follow you down the aisles.

“Here you go!” You say, handing him a few fresh translated copies of Paper Towns and Looking for Alaska. “These just came in the other day. You’re pretty lucky, Kiyoomi!”

“Thanks,” he mutters as he grabs the books from you gently, fingers hovering over the cover as his heart pumps with excitement at the thought of unwinding himself to another fantastic story. The last one had him hooked until the end, and he had broken his carefully crafted sleep schedule just to finish it. He couldn’t wait to dive into a whole new world waiting for him within the pages of these books.

But most of all, he couldn’t wait to talk about them with you.

With a knowing smile, you quickly usher Kiyoomi into your back office, knowing that the counter wouldn’t need you for a while. No one else would come to your store at 1 in the afternoon, except for the old lady that came by every so often, but she could wait.

“Here,” you say as you hand Kiyoomi a warm cup of tea. “Freshly brewed, just for you!” Kiyoomi smiles, although you don’t see it as it’s hidden by his mask. He removes his mask, placing it gently into the ziplock he had brought with him before grabbing hold of the mug you had specially reserved for him and taking a sip.

It was soothing and relaxing, just the way he liked it. He can feel his muscles relax as he leans back into his chair, sighing in bliss as he closes his eyes. “You like it that much?” You ask with a giggle, setting down a plate of cookies you had bought from the bakery across the street.

“Of course,” he replies, watching as you take a seat in front of him, taking a cookie to eat. “There’s nothing like your tea, you know that.”

Of course, you did. For the past two years, ever since you and Sakusa had rekindled your friendship and had begun to meet up regularly, you had been brewing him a cup of warm tea. It wasn’t meant to be a habit, but somehow it became that way ever since the first time Sakusa had decided to open up and rave about romance novels with you.

You remember the first time it happened. Sakusa had dropped by for a surprise visit after the two of you bumped into each other on a trip to the supermarket earlier that day. You mentioned that you ran a bookstore, but you never expected him to show up to it. It was a pleasant surprise, one that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

He had asked for a book recommendation, not knowing how else to reignite that connection you two had back in high school. He remembers the days where he used to escape to the library, and you’d keep him company, rambling on and on about the books you were sorting out and how much you loved them.

Those were the most enjoyable times throughout Sakusa’s high school life, and how he wished to reclaim those memories and renew them once more now that you were adults.

That day, you had recommended him to read Pride and Prejudice, to which Skausa initially grimaced, remembering how much he had hated the book back then when he was younger. But with your encouragement, he had decided to purchase it without giving it any thought until he finally read it on his rare day off.

And to say he was floored would be an understatement.

“Incredible,” he had mentioned to you, in a frenzy the next day, returning to your store like a man who had just been shown the truth of the universe. “Utterly Amazing!”

“Sakusa?” You had called back, confused at his sudden behavior. From your puzzled expression, Sakusa finally snapped out of his senses and cleared his throat, embarrassed at his sudden outburst.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze. “It’s fine,” you say, reassuringly gesturing him to follow you to the back office that would soon become a special hangout place for the two of you.

“What was it you were talking about?” You ask as you prepare your first-ever cup of tea for him (the first of many). At your question, Sakusa perks up, grabbing the book he had purchased from his bag and setting it down on the table in front of him.

“This was incredible,” he reiterates, and you turn your head to see what he was talking about, only to nod in understanding. “How does one write love in such a compelling and enchanting way? It seems too good to be true. I can’t believe I didn’t appreciate this masterpiece back in high school.”

You laugh, setting down the cup of tea. It’s the first time you’ve seen Sakusa this expressive. It reminds you of back in the day, in those few moments where you would catch him in a rave about how fantastic volleyball was as you rearranged the science books on the shelves. It was in those moments that you found the usually quiet man quite charming.

“(Y/N)?” Sakusa asks, bringing you out of your trance. You look up at him, snapping out of your thoughts as you tilted your head in question. “You okay? You’ve been out of it for a few minutes.”

“Oh,” you giggle, realizing your mistake. “Sorry, Kiyoomi, I was just reminiscing about the past, that’s all. How did you find the book?”

“Heartbreaking.”

You blink, caught off guard by how blunt he was before letting out a hearty laugh, to which Sakusa frowns, not quite understanding why you were laughing. “What’s so funny?” He asks, a pout settling on his lips.

“Nothing Kiyoomi, It’s just, I didn’t expect you to say that so bluntly,” you say, wiping off the tears that had begun to form at the corner of your eye from too much laughter. “Continue.”

“You wouldn’t believe the number of times I cried while reading the book. How could John—whatever his name is—write something so heartbreaking and expect to get away with it?”

Your laughter rings through the room, and Sakusa can feel it tug on his heartstrings. He wasn’t one to express his thoughts out loud. But being around you just made him do it. You had this magic about you, something Sakusa couldn’t quite put his fingers on. Perhaps that was just your natural charm to draw people into your rhythm, and Sakusa wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well, just wait till you read the other two. They’re both as equally amazing as the last one.” You say, gesturing to the books in front of Sakusa tenderly. “Are they just as heartbreaking?” He asks, already giddy with anticipation.

“Hmm, you’ll have to read to find out.” You tease, causing another pout to form on his lips as he groans, choosing to chug down the remainder of his tea.

The two of you continued your conversation, talking about anything and everything about your lives at the moment. Sakusa vented about their most recent game, which was a win for the team. However, he didn’t play as well as he wanted, which caused him to be benched for two sets. It was a low blow on his part, but he knew that with proper training and motivation, he could overcome it.

“Of course you can!” You said once he was done voicing out his doubts. “You’re the Sakusa Kiyoomi I know and love. Of course, you’re going to ace it!”

Your words cause Sakusa’s heart to skip a beat, trying to process what you had just said. Did you really love him? Was it in a platonic or more romantic way? Why did you have to say that? Don’t you know how much it drives Sakusa wild?

“Thanks,” is all he says, looking down to hide the blush that was beginning to form on his cheeks. Was this what all the books were telling him about? Was he slowly but surely falling in love with you? Because if he was, then Sakusa would wholeheartedly admit that this was the best feeling in the world.

Falling in love felt surreal.

As he leaves your store, two new books in hand, greeting you goodbye as you wave him off, Sakusa can feel the love in him continue to grow. He makes the short trip home, yet all he can do is think of you and how much you’ve become part of his life. You had wormed your way into his heart and made yourself stay, and honestly, Sakusa didn’t mind.

He was a hopeless romantic after all. And if this was the beginning of a life-changing love story with you by his side, then so be it.

He would fall until you’d catch him in your arms and love him until love could be no more. And would wholeheartedly do it all over again.

➢ general taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @loveinhaikyuu @mirakeul

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #hq x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you

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purplellamanator · 3 years

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So, I'm sorry I don't really know what to call this and did not give it a name- but, this is a product heavily inspired by these head-canon's created and posted by @detectivegeekshin! Please check them out if you haven't already! (if you're following me though you probably already did :D) This is insanely long though and I hope ya'll like it! Sorry @detectivegeekshin that it took me so long! I've been working on this for more than two months I think- so again, sorry!!! Thank you for allowing me to use your ideas to make, what was supposed to be a drabble, story and I hope I did your head-canon's justice! Please excuse my grammar mistakes! I tried my best to clean it up! Thank you again!

Read below the cut for the story :)

Stealing wasn't exactly the word he wanted to use. He didn't consider himself to be a thief. Was it really even stealing if he was taking it from someone it didn't actually belong to? Shinichi didn't think so.

And it wasn't about giving the wealth back to the poor. He wouldn't necessarily call himself Robin Hood either. It was about returning something to its rightful place; to the rightful owner.

It was wrong. All of it. It went against the very morals he himself created to follow when he first decided he'd be the greatest detective of the era. Stealing was wrong no matter if it was stealing something that was already stolen. It was the law and if the law was followed, then it would work out correctly in the end either way.

But that way of thinking wasn't always true. He realized that the longer he worked in this business and the more experience he gathered. It would be a nice world to live in when the law could fix everything. And unfortunately he wasn't naïve enough to actually believe that world existed anymore.

The first time he did it, it had gone against every fiber of his being. The mental crisis he thrusted his entire being into had sidelined him for weeks. So ashamed, Shinichi couldn't bring himself to work on another case. What right did he have? To expose criminals for killing? For kidnapping? For stealing?

He had no right. He was no better than those criminals. Because that was what he was now- a criminal.

The stress and just anxiety that this put him under- Shinichi considered dropping his dream of being a detective. His morals and guilt had been tearing him apart inside.

Until he turned on the news and remembered why he did what he did.

A woman was crying. They were tears of joy and happiness. And she was thankful. Thankful that the heirloom that had gone missing for decades had miraculously found its place back on her dresser. That she had no idea who or how it happened but she was grateful to whomever had given her this.

And that was when Shinichi was reminded of what finally pushed him to this. What made him crack.

He was a detective and he had done his job. He found the precious necklace that had eluded every private eye hired before him. He located it and all they had to do was retrieve it and return it back where it belonged.

But the police couldn't. They needed warrants and that took time. Time they did not have enough of. It would be sold once more on the black market and disappear likely for another decade before they were even served.

The adrenaline that had coursed through him when he finally decided what he would do. He had never felt more satisfied. There had been no disguises; no gimmicks. Just himself. His own face and his own brain. And they still hadn't caught him. It had been easy. So much easier than waiting on the courts.

After that day he saw the news, Shinichi had walked with his head held higher than any other day. He didn't know why exactly. It wasn't like anybody else besides him knew what he had done. No one but him was aware that the woman got that necklace back because of his own actions. Yet hearing people congratulate and whisper about how amazing the mystery was made him smug.

Shinichi told himself it would be a one time thing. Seeing that woman from before distraught and sobbing that her family's prized possession would likely never be returned in her lifetime- it had done something to him. It made him act. Even though he usually did so well detaching himself emotionally from his cases, that one alone had gotten to him. But he'd do better next time. Even if the outcome would be bittersweet and leave him feeling like he failed, he could not do it again. No matter who the victim was or if they cried.

But he didn't stick to that clearly because he did it again a month later, and then soon after that, and again after that.

His excuse each time- he had done so well not getting caught before. What could it hurt to do it again? It was easier. It was faster. With his genius he was sure he would get away with it no matter how many times he tried this. He couldn't be caught. He couldn't be beat. He was just too . . good at it.

Until he wasn't.

He had gotten too cocky; too arrogant. He should've stopped while he was ahead. He had gotten away with it so many times and yet he kept pushing it. And he pushed the boundaries each time. He got more and more careless than the last. And now he was stuck explaining to the last person he ever wanted to find out, why he was parading around as some law abiding detective when he was really a thief.

In the midst of his newly found hobby, Ran- one of his best friends, had realized he was not acting the same as usual. Shinichi didn't allow her to join him to certain cases anymore. He would be secretive about where he was going afterwards as well as if she had somehow already been there, he had even told her to straight up leave.

He should've known that Ran would notice something sooner. It wasn't like him to ever hide things from her and it definitely was not normal for him to tell her to leave a crime scene- unless it was a rather dangerous one. Cases that had to do with robbery didn't normally fall under that. Those were the cases he'd usually rather her witness. She didn't like anything with too much gore and like any normal person, she got scared if she even saw a corpse.

But each time he told her to leave or that she shouldn't follow him. Most of the time he did lie and say it was because he worried it would turn violent. Other times he didn't give a reason. And he definitely should've noticed her suspicion because he normally loved having her witness his cases and deductions. He liked impressing her.

Unfortunately, he didn't notice in time that he was actually worrying her. His sudden change was concerning to her and she ended up following him when he said the Inspector had called and asked for him to come by the station.

Shinichi never went to the station. There had never been a call. Instead, donning his change of clothes, he took a train almost a full hour out till he reached his actual destination.

When he said he had started pushing the boundaries, he had meant it. No longer did his thefts remain with cases within the Japanese Police. He started digging for unresolved cases in the black markets.

The entire time Ran had been tailing him. She had followed him the entire way and he hadn't noticed a single thing, which he didn't know if he should be annoyed by or impressed.

When he had almost been shot however and Ran's foot suddenly came down on the guards head, he settled on being impressed. Because though he was furious she had followed him into such a dangerous underground location, she had saved his ass. And it didn't help that Ran was aware of that fact.

She hadn't pressured him for an explanation. Shinichi thought she would yell at him and demand to know what he was doing and why. Ran hadn't done any of that. Instead, she took it upon herself to be his lookout as he finished what he originally set out to do.

Ran kept her thoughts to herself at first. It had made him nervous considering he was expecting her anger. When he hadn't gotten it, he didn't know what to expect now. Her moral compass was just as strong as his had been. When she realized what he was doing- and she definitely already had, he could only assume it'd upset her. Why wouldn't it? At this point he was no better than-

"Are you Kaito Kid?"

Kaito Kid. Obviously he knew who she was talking about. And it was actually insulting and ticked him off.

What he did took more skill. He wasn't some magic freak with a couple fog machines and pet doves. He had no disguise. If Shinichi wanted something, he walked in there and took it. With his own face.

With a stony expression, he denied the accusation. As far as he was concerned, he always thought of the Phantom Thief as, exactly that, a thief. Truthfully, he hadn't run into the magician too much after his new found discovery. And at the thought he realized that it must mean Kid wasn't after just any treasure. He must've been looking for something in particular which reminded him that he didn't know the guy's actual motive behind his crimes. Maybe like him, he realized, Kid might have a valid reason for turning to crime.

When he started sympathizing with a criminal however he noticed how far in his own crimes he actually was.

Ran took his denial in stride. She didn't seem all that surprised by his response. She clearly didn't actually think he was the Phantom Thief. But oddly enough, she didn't really ask for an explanation. If he wasn't doing this as Kid, then why was he doing it? She didn't claim to want to know.

Oddly enough, that annoyed him as well. It should be a good thing she wasn't drilling him for answers. She was just accepting what he was doing and not going to stop him.

"You're that vigilante thief they're talking about all over the news. . . aren't you? The Night Baron?"

Night Baron? Out of all the things, that's what they decided to go with? And though it was exactly what he was, the word vigilante left a bad taste in his mouth.

This accusation was different however. Unlike the Phantom Thief one, she uttered this one with confidence. If he denied this, Ran would not believe him. There was no point in trying anyway when she had literally caught him in the act.

It took him aback a little that she had caught on so easily. The Night Baron wasn't as common in the news. He hadn't been doing this nearly as long as the other well known thief. It made him question if she'd been contemplating this for awhile. How long had she suspected him? And how could she not say this without any ounce of anger?

"Well. . . I have faith in you, Shinichi," she finally said when he asked. "I know you and I know you wouldn't be doing this unless you had a good reason or you thought it was right."

"And what you're doing is right. The Night Baron helps people."

The amount of trust she put in his character made him feel warm inside. It was embarrassing but that sentiment made the corners of his eyes almost prickle. Shinichi hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted to hear those words. He thought he had come to terms with his guilt. But clearly he had not if hearing Ran say that almost made him get choked up.

Ran didn't think less of him for losing his morals. She didn't look at him in disgust. She approved of it. She encouraged him for doing it. No explanation given yet and she had already determined that what he did, he did for good. He had no desire or intention for personal gain. And he had never felt like someone had ever seen him so clearly before.

Again, she didn't push for his actual reasonings. Based off her earlier assumptions, she likely already knew them. But though it was clear she didn't think it, he didn't want to risk her assuming he was some mindless criminal. Without her prompting, he gave his explanation.

The law wasn't enough sometimes. And though it was sad and went against what he engrained in his own head, this was the best and more efficient option. After all, if you want something done correctly, do it yourself then, right?

Ran hadn't so much as flinched. And it was staggering.

"You're not upset?" He couldn't help the disbelieving tone he used. It was almost a little concerning she wasn't more opposed to this.

Ran shrugged. "I am a little. Clearly you've been doing this by yourself and lying to me when you could've just told me."

Tell her? Why would he want to tell her?

"Shinichi, you were almost shot. Clearly you need help doing this."

Absolutely not.

That had been his initial reaction. If he ever for some reason got caught, it would likely drag her down with him. And that was the last thing he wanted.

But after sleeping on it for a quite a few days, and also that he couldn't sneak off anymore once Ran realized what he was going, Shinichi began to see the possible perks to working with a partner. And not just any partner but Ran specifically.

She was smart. He was definitely the mastermind behind all of their plans but that was not to say Ran couldn't come up with a plan of her own. Her insight gave another perspective that sometimes, he never would've thought of. If she didn't like an idea, she said it. If she thought they should do something else, she told him. Shinichi wasn't perfect. He missed things sometimes. It was good to have her pair of eyes as well.

It was just as helpful to have her brute strength as well. He assumed most would find it somewhat emasculating to be physically weaker than their female counterpart. Shinichi didn't mind at all. He was strong as well but admittedly, there were things Ran could do that he could not. Like denting a wall with her bare fist.

With Ran added into the picture, it came with even more possibilities. And perks.

The one person he didn't want to have to lie to, he didn't have to anymore. And they worked close.

He liked that too.

Ran was a good asset and made his job a whole lot easier. He really took note of that fact when instead of climbing through an air duct to sneak into some party, Ran had somehow managed to get them clearance through the front door.

And that wasn't nearly all she was able to do.

Ran is gorgeous. It was the bitter sweet conclusion he came to when Ran easily had the host eating out of the palm of her hand. The guy probably would've just given her the painting they were after if she simply asked properly.

The thought annoyed him.

He always knew he had a thing for Ran. He was pretty sure everybody knew that fact besides the girl herself. He had known her for a long time now. They had been friends since the first year of college. Their friend group was also the same and their parents both had ties to the Japanese Police Force. And she was stunning to look at. He'd argue it would be impossible for him not to take a liking to his friend.

He never told her though. He didn't know if she felt the same and after this partnership they just started, he wasn't sure it was worth the risk. If he tried a move and it scared her off, he'd have to revert to working alone. And he didn't want to do that for more reasons than one.

Like he acknowledged before, Ran was beautiful. He was not alone in that belief. It made it all the more difficult to witness guys flaunt their wealth and good looks in her face. He didn't want to see that. They didn't actually know her. Ran was his friend for three years. They didn't deserve her especially when clearly all they wanted was to undress her. And they were arguably worse criminals than half the people he got locked up.

So it was all instinct when he finally cracked. Some guy whom they didn't know was trying to dance with Ran. And he wasn't just 'trying'. He was touching and caressing her arm. Gritting his teeth, Shinichi couldn't help himself when he wrapped an arm around Ran's waist and tugged her back into his chest.

"I thought the first dance was mine, wife."

It was stupid. He had no idea why he allowed that to slip out. If he didn't have better control of his emotions he probably would've turned flustered all the way to his toes.

Ran's eyes bulged. "W-wife?!"

Honestly, her surprise couldn't be helped. He had totally blindsided her. It was his fault. And he definitely didn't have a valid enough reason to interfere like he did.

Sensing something was off between the couple, the other guy raised a brow as he eyed the arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "You don't recognize your own husband?"

Shinichi wanted to bash his own head against the wall. This was why they weren't supposed to go against the plan. Posing as her husband had definitely not been part of what they discussed earlier. It caused too many questions that they did not prepare beforehand to answer-

A hand suddenly slid up and brushed against his cheek softly. "We're not married just yet, Shin-chan. Only engaged so it's a bit too soon to be saying that," she chastised with a giggle; her acting on point.

Beyond his control, he could feel a slight heat rise to his cheeks. The intimate way she touched his face wasn't helping either. He swallowed hard as he looked down at her eyes, meeting her softened gaze.

"Oh, forgive me. I didn't see the ring."

The ring?

Ring?

A ring!

They didn't even have rings to back up their story-!

It was at that point Shinichi didn't know if the guy was actually apologetic for hitting on a married woman or suspicious that they weren't actually a couple that was engaged.

"No, it's our fault really," Ran said sheepishly. "This dummy here didn't get me the right ring size so it's sadly getting resized."

Shinichi was a little insulted. He would've most definitely did his research to get her the correct ring size before proposing.

After the guy walked away, they both found their way to the dance floor with all the other couples and joined in the slow sway. If asked why, he'd argue it was to back up their story even more. Deep down though, Shinichi knew better.

Ran was oddly silent however.

"Shin-chan?" He grumbled with forced annoyance. At the time it had completely caught him off guard. The nickname that his mother used for him. At the time he figured it was payback for the confusion he started. It didn't mean he hated the name any less.

But just as easily, she quipped back, "Wife?" She raised a brow as if to drive her point and he immediately shut his mouth.

It was definitely payback.

Ran never did question why he stepped in that night. They were on a job after all and he deduced that likely she had already forgotten what he'd done. Besides the little hiccup, every thing else went according to plan. Everything else stayed the same.

Until their next job. And the job after that. And the one after that.

Because that one night when they had taken the painting; it had started a trend of sorts. A trend where one or the either would claim to be in a relationship with the other. Before it had started with a dance which at the time, neither had been prepared for and both were too awkward to acknowledge properly. But the next time they are holding hands and eventually it becomes normal for Ran to hug his arm to her chest or for him to hold her waist.

Each time is a mystery to them. Neither have any idea what they'll be. It was a constant cycle of being married, to dating, to two already taken spouses in a very wanton and promiscuous love affair. And the stories they came up with on the spot were more extravagant and extra than the last. And they were never prepared before hand. Suddenly it was a game for them. How deep could they take this? What tale could they come up with this time? It was getting out hand. The stories were getting more detailed each time, he almost believed the lies himself.

Shinichi didn't usually snap back out of it until he saw her again in class the next day. They weren't childhood friends that had been together since preschool days. He hadn't dramatically confessed his love in London while the Big Ben chimed behind them. They hadn't shared a first kiss at Kiyomizu-dera on a school trip to Kyoto.

And it didn't stop there. If they weren't already talking to each other, they would always be touching in some form. Whether that was by a hand resting against his thigh or his fingers dragging dangerously low on her lower back.

It was a very small line they were tiptoeing against and the blatant flirting they joined in with was starting to toy with his emotions. It was one thing to elaborate or give false truths to further their disguises. It was another entirely to grope each other secretly. There was no witness to convince. Who were they showing off for other than each other?

It was getting increasingly more difficult to act like nothing was going on- or at least nothing was going on with his end. He was stressed and constantly filled with anxiety that at some point these lies would eventually bleed into their actual daily lives. Because when he once again had to suppress the urge to grab her hand as they walked from class, he was realizing once again who they actually were.

They were Shinichi and Ran. A Shinichi and Ran that had met three years ago in a shared psychology class. A Shinichi and Ran that were best friends and nothing more. A Shinichi that had been mooning after the same girl since he first met her. A Ran that as far as he could tell, didn't share that same sentiment.

This whole thing was a dangerous idea where his emotions were involved. And due to his argument that they didn't need to stop this 'charade' or whatever was the proper term to call it, it wasn't a matter of if this would affect their personal lives. It was a matter of when.

Surprisingly, it wasn't him that cracked.

It had been an honest mistake- one Shinichi didn't exactly mind. They had been in a study session with Sonoko and Nakamichi. It was a hot day and they had all taken refuge in the campus library. And to also help combat the heat, Shinichi had a water bottle that he was casually sipping on. One that Ran had easily grabbed from his hands to take a swig out of.

Shinichi didn't mind. He really didn't and truthfully, he probably wouldn't of even noticed if it weren't for the fact all their friends froze to gap at her incredulously. She had done this to him numerous times on a job. Asking for a sip of his champagne or simply stealing a bite of food off his plate. It had been a shock the first time but it in the moment he knew that was likely her intention to get a rise out of him. Now however, he was positive that she had fell into that act by mistake. She didn't mean anything by it, he was sure- not like she used to.

Nakamichi whom had been in the process of reading out his answer for one of the questions on the study guide had trailed off slowly, almost completely floored by what he had witnessed. Sonoko looked like she would fall out of her seat.

It was almost laughable that Ran didn't realize the stares that were being drilled into her. Attempting to keep his face neutral, he nudged his knee into hers gently and it was only at that she finally began to realize her mistake.

Features turning a scorching red, she quickly forced the water back into his hands. "I-I'm so sorry!" she burst. "I have no idea why I did that! I don't know what I was thinking," she sputtered. "I-it was just so hot and I-I-"

She was drowning; sinking further into her panic and he tried to save her.

"Ran, it's okay," he said calmly even though on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as she was. "It's hot outside and I've known you forever. We can share a water bottle." Shinichi was trying to play it cool. For the sake of their image with their friends.

Of course it wouldn't be enough to deter the teases they were sure to receive from their friends but what else could he do? He couldn't very well say she grabbed his by mistake. It had literally been in his hand. He had just drank out of it and been going to sip out of it again when she grabbed it. And he definitely couldn't say that she did this to him all the time when pretending to be his wife.

There was absolutely nothing they could say to excuse this. The whole scene had been way too casual even for the two of them. Sonoko, whom had made numerous jokes that they were actually a married couple, looked like this was too much for even her to comprehend. Because whether she knew he had a thing for Ran or not, anything she said before this had been harmless taunts.

"How long has then been going?!" Sonoko having determined that the study session was now over, pointed between them furiously. And that wasn't just an exaggeration. Sonoko looked irritated. Not because they were seemingly dating but because she had both missed and not been informed when it happened.

But there was nothing to tell. Nothing was going on- or rather nothing in the way she was thinking. No matter how many times they both told her that, the Suzuki heiress did not look convinced. Not even Nakamichi seemed to trust it but unlike the other girl, he thankfully kept his accusations shut till they were in private.

"Look- I'm not saying I'm mad or anything. It just sucks a little that you didn't tell me," his friend finally admitted when they left the two girls at the library.

Neither had been worried or surprised when Sonoko said they would catch up with them later. Shinichi felt bad for abandoning Ran but he knew that Sonoko would want to grill her for answers. It would've been more humiliating for both of them to be present for that.

Nakamichi wasn't nearly as difficult as Suzuki to deal with but Shinichi still found himself rolling his eyes. "I already told you," he said tiredly. "Ran and I are not dating." Shinichi wasn't sure how many more times he would have to say just that. He didn't even know if there was any other way to word what he was trying to get through his friend's apparently thick skull.

Suddenly his friend stopping walking, forcing him to do the same. For some reason his eyes were wide and a slight red was forming on his cheeks. "Oh."

Oh? Shinichi raised a confused brow. "What?"

"Well- I just never thought Ran-chan would ever. . . " Nakamichi trailed off, scratching behind his ear awkwardly. "She just doesn't seem the type, you know?"

Huh?

"Her . . type?"

And then suddenly his friend looked concerned, waving his hands in front of him defensively. "Hey- I'm not judging! Whatever you wanna call it- I support it!"

Suddenly Shinichi was freezing himself. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked aggravatedly.

"You and Ran-chan aren't dating but you're. . . you know," Nakamichi said pointedly. "You still could've told me though. I'm not going to tell anybody. Have some faith man. We've know each other since grade school."

Shinichi's eyes bulged and all the blood rushed to his face as understanding finally hit him.

"Ran and I aren't dating and we're not doing t-that either!" he exploded.

oOo

Without Ran even needing to tell him, Shinichi knew Sonoko must've given her a hard time afterwards. Nakamichi probably wasn't nearly as difficult to deal with but it still had been an uncomfortable conversation nonetheless.

His friend actually thought that he and Ran were having . . . sex on the side.

He wouldn't be so lucky.

Shinichi was flushing at the thought alone. It had been so humiliating.

But what made it worse however was when Ran actually apologized to him again in private. She reiterated once more that she couldn't understand what she had been thinking in the moment. She also suggested that maybe it would be best to stop pretending. It was mixing them up in real life and confusing for both of them.

A small part of him was crushed by her suggestion no matter how logical it was. It hurt.

Shinichi rejected the idea. He agreed that maybe they could tone it down some. They didn't need to be a couple every time they did a job. But he also argued that sometimes the act actually did make their job easier. And deep down there was another reason he didn't want to share.

Because if they gave up their little charade, then he knew what that would mean. There was no logical circumstance that would allow him to touch her and flirt with her like when they were on a job. And he desperately didn't want to lose that. Even if their act escalated each time.

But he knew Ran had a point.

Their next job was once again at another extravagant and fancy party. And this time, they both arrived alone. The two had snuck in separately and at different times as well. And throughout the entire night, neither acknowledged the other. They acted like perfect strangers.

This time the showcase was a pearl. A pearl that would surprisingly 'go missing' by the end of the night. And like every other job they did, he had a plan that they had gone over in detail numerous times. One that didn't work out at all considering the whole night had been derailed by the sudden appearance of the Phantom Thief.

The moment that magician's calling card appeared, Shinichi knew they'd have to make adjustments to their plan and they needed to do it now. If KID followed and stuck by the time on his announcement, then the pearl they were both after would be long gone by the time they got anywhere near it.

They had to improvise which was difficult without them even talking to each other. Besides that factor added in, throwing Kid into the mix only derailed everything further. If they wanted any hope of beating Kid, then they had to act right then.

To be honest, it wasn't very surprising they were almost caught. It hadn't been particularly smart of him to continue with his intentions of stealing the pearl. Just Kaito Kid being there caused too much of a scene. Any calling card that arrived meant it would soon be followed by police and a camera crew. The Phantom Thief brought media attention wherever he went. It was dumb of him to not just give the pearl to the thief. Especially cause-

Kaito Kid had mentioned the Night Baron in his calling card. He had made it clear he was aware that he wasn't the only thief present with their sights set on the pearl. And he had mentioned the other thief by name.

That gave a lot of insight Shinichi wasn't even sure Kid meant to give. That calling card told the detective that either Kid knew what types of jobs the Night Baron targeted or worse- that he knew the true identity of the Night Baron. And if the latter was correct, then it meant that someone had been watching him for a long time. Someone was probably watching him right now. And if that were the case, Kid knew his entire plan.

The right thing to do would be to pull back. To grab Ran and bail. The plans he had made were done without taking Kaito Kid into account. But if the other thief really had been watching him, then those plans could be tossed out a window. Nothing was worth getting both him and Ran caught and possibly arrested. The logical conclusion was to escape while they could.

Shinichi was too prideful for that. And stubborn. This wasn't his first run-in with the Moonlight Thief. Shinichi had dealt with him quite a few times when helping Inspector Nakamouri or Inspector Meguire. This would however be the first time he ran into the guy when he was on one of his own little side jobs.

And he was not prepared. Fighting against him as a detective had numerous resources. He had the Japanese Police Force at his disposal. As well as when he was working his real job- he did not need to hide his own face. Not only could he be recognized by the police, he had also made a name as a criminal. If somehow his face was linked to the scene of all those crimes- he was done for.

But like the idiot he was, he couldn't help but take this as a challenge. The fact Kaito Kid mentioned him by name in his calling card told him that the thief knew he was there and also he didn't really care nor was he stressed by that.

It wasn't like him to panic. But in the end, that was what he'd done. His actions had been panicked and rushed and honestly- thoughtless. Ran hadn't scolded him at all through the night; probably thinking now wasn't the time when they were running from police officers. Shinichi could just feel her disapproval however. He knew the moment they were out of here and alone at his house, he'd receive the yelling of a lifetime.

Getting an earful would be the least of his worries if they couldn't find a way out of this building. All of the usual exit points had been closed or cut off due to Kid's warning for his appearance. The guy was a showoff and frustrating. Shinichi knew it was all part of the guy's show to leave people wondering just how he made his escape.

Shinichi wanted to throttle him.

Because of that hack of a magician, he'd get caught. Because of him, Ran would get in trouble with him. The two of them had been running nonstop and even if they had the layout of the mansion memorized, it wouldn't help with guards standing at every single entrance and exit- which is what they had been doing the moment Shinichi triggered their alarm.

The panic and just straight anxiety that he felt in that moment, could not be paralleled to anything else in his life. He knew they were running out of options. Usually he was the one with all the plans but he couldn't even gather his thoughts to try to formulate one. All he could think was how much of a sad excuse for a thief, a detective, and a friend he was-

No. If there was one thing he would do, it was to save Ran. He got Ran involved in this and he would not allow her to go down with him. Already he had given up on finding escape. Now all he was trying to do was deduce just how he was going to explain Ran's side of things. He'd force her to pose as his hostage if he had to. He would not allow her to be ruined from this-

Abruptly his thoughts caught off when Ran very suddenly gripped his fingers tightly. When he glanced over in her direction, he found she was already looking at him. They were both running as fast as they could trying to put more and more distance between them and the heavy footfalls coming from behind them. Unlike him however, she did not appear scared or stressed. In fact, while he was internally having a meltdown, Ran shot him a quick but soft smile.

And suddenly she was pushing ahead of him; her fingers still clenching his tightly as she tugged him behind her.

She was taking them further in though, he noticed incredulously. In fact she was taking them towards the rooms. Shinichi had to stare into the back of her head, as if wondering if she'd lost her mind. There was no exit to the outside this far in. Nothing but windows which they already realized was not going to be an option. There would be officers outside each window waiting for them. They would not be able to get far.

Just when he had been about to reprimand her himself, he found himself being tugged to the side again. Ran's goal hadn't been the window. She had pulled him into one of the numerous bedrooms that lined the hall. Which he guessed would be nice for shock value but again, he found himself wanting to question her. Sure hiding in a room would be unexpected at first but he highly doubted they would fail to check these rooms. All it would do is buy them some time before they were eventually captured. And a simple search would prove that he was in possession of the pearl that was currently missing.

They had put quite a bit of distance between them and the task force that was chasing them. They would have a few minutes at most. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with those few minutes.

"Ran, what the hell?" he spun on her only for his eyes to grow bigger even more. He had turned to find her turning on the table lamp and he really thought she had lost it. They were trying to hide. They should be turning lights out, he wanted to yell as he watched her come back over to him. Anything he was meaning to say was gone when she was suddenly pulling him again and he only watched in confusion as she seemed to position him just in front of the table she had walked to.

His eyes bulged when she grabbed one of his hands and placed it around her ribs. And when she placed the other very firmly onto her rear, he turned into a sputtering mess.

"R-Ran . . . " The way he said her name this time was unlike before. It was smaller he knew but it was definitely nervous as well. By this point he was less concerned about the police chasing them than he was about his partner's behavior. He had given up on talking when suddenly she was pressing her palm flat against his chest. He followed the movement with his eyes until her other hand caressed his cheek forcing him to look directly at her.

She wasn't saying anything. And even if he wanted to, she didn't give him enough time to try. Palm on his chest scrunching into a fist, all he could do was gasp when suddenly he was tugged down into a kiss.

He froze. His eyes had bulged even more he was sure and he felt his features flood red- redder than they had been. It was hard for him to comprehend what exactly was happening right now. Ran hadn't given him a chance to process anything and the moment her lips touched his, his mind went blank. He was pretty sure he wasn't even breathing at this point.

She must've felt how frozen he was because suddenly she was pushing forward more, her mouth pressing insistently against his own. As if yelling at him to do something. And that was all he needed.

Taking notice that her eyes were shut, he did the same before he leaned into her willingly. His hand that she had pressed against her rear- that he had left there mostly out of shock, grabbed her and pressed her against him more firmly. The movement made her gasp and going off her response, his other hand rose to bury itself in her hair where he angled her face to fit more comfortably against his.

The kiss was slow but it didn't mean it was any less sensuous. Tongues were brushing against each other, their breath intermingling as it panted against the other's lips. Shinichi wasn't sure exactly why Ran felt the need to kiss him now, but as far as first kisses could go- he wasn't complaining. Was a reason really necessary?

No. He didn't think so.

Was he going to ask her why she was suddenly tugging his shirt from where it was neatly tucked into his pants?

Maybe later- definitely not now though. He didn't question it. He didn't question hearing what sounded like a door opening before being slammed shut. He didn't want to. If Ran wasn't, then why should he? All he knew in that moment was that something that he had been waiting for- something he had been wanting, was finally happening and he wasn't going to waste his time trying to get an explanation of why.

But even without wasting his time, it still wasn't enough. All too soon he felt Ran begin to pull away. Her hands released their tight grip on his shirt and hair and came to rest smoothly against his chest. Shinichi felt the retreat. She was moving away from him. And the realization made him panic.

No. He felt his mind shout. That wasn't enough. It's not enough.

Surging forward, just after their lips had completely separated, he found them slamming against hers once more. This time because of him. And when she gasped into his mouth he just couldn't help himself. Arms gripping her firmly, he turned to the side forcing her into the wall just beside the shelf she had him pressed against. His fingers had never left her hair and instead his fingers buried deeper into the long strands. If the grip was painful, Ran didn't say. If anything, it sounded like she liked it with the way she released a moan into his mouth.

Shinichi had her pressed into the wall, the hand that wasn't angling her face closer to his, gripping the bare skin of her thigh. In the moment, he didn't care to process or wonder just how his hand got through the slit of her dress. All he wanted to do was just get closer and closer and as close as he could get, he concluded as he forced her leg to stay raised against his hip. When it got to the point they needed a second to just breathe, he had his lips slanting across the smooth skin of her neck. From this position he could feel her panting heavily against his ear. He could feel her desperately trying to draw in air to her lungs. He also felt when she stiffened.

When he had practically picked her up, forcing her into the wall, Ran's hands had both slid to the front of his shirt. When she gripped the lapels of his suit coat she had used force to tug his mouth closer to her neck. Suddenly however, he felt that grip slacken.

"I t-think. . . I think they're gone now. . "

That was like a wake up call.

His own common sense kicking in, he remembered where they were. What they were doing. Who was chasing them. Gently, he released his hold of her thigh and set her to rest on her own feet. Taking a glance at her he noticed she was redder than he was.

"I-I'm sorry. I knew they would find us either way so I-I . . improvised. . . "

Improvised?

Improvised.

Still sort of stuck in some dazed haze, it took him longer than it should to understand what exactly she meant.

Improvised, he repeated again in his thoughts.

That was what she kissed him for? Shinichi could remember discreetly at some point the door opening and then slamming shut shortly after. At the time he hadn't really cared that much to question it. He had been way too focused and interested in something else.

Something else that she 'improvised'.

The bitter thought left the same taste is his mouth.

Frowning, and face turning a darker shade, he took a step back.

"Right . . . " he agreed swallowing hard.

Of course they couldn't stay there any longer than they already had. There was always the possibility that the police would realize their mistake and return. If they were smart, they shouldn't be here for if or when that happens. There was no time to just stand there awkwardly. Though that was what he proceeded to do.

The reminder she gave for why they had hid in this room in the first place, did nothing for him. He should've been like her; scrambling to fix their appearance to look somewhat normal. But he couldn't be bothered. Shinichi watched as she hurriedly straightened her dress and finally, began the process of cleaning himself up. His motions were slow and sluggish however compared to her quick and hastened ones. It was only after a few moments of him pulling his tie forward that he realized his shirt was untucked.

"Does my hair look okay?"

All at once he was distracted. Again. Pausing with his shirt, and glancing back at her. Did her hair look okay?

"Yes."

Belatedly he realized what she actually meant. Was her hair fixed? Did she look normal? And still looking at the hair that he knew she had styled meticulously beforehand, it was tangled and frizzed. The long strands were very obviously out of place.

He startled a little when suddenly Ran was just before him, brushing her fingers through his hair. He was taller than her so she was on her toes, stretching to reach his height. He acknowledged that but seemed to struggle to realize maybe he should lean down to make it easier for her. The thought didn't occur to him. Not at first anyway. Once the thought hit that maybe she was trying to kiss him again, he found himself bending down. Her face was close to his again and he caught the scent of whatever it was she was wearing.

The sudden movement clearly caught her off guard and his eyes that had apparently been focused on her mouth watched as she didn't pull away, but instead rested flat on her feet again. Her hands were still in his hear however and he had to take a moment to wonder if she was going to use that to grab him again.

"Shinichi! What are you doing?" she practically hissed the question; her movements still hurried. "You look like a mess. Hurry up!"

And with a blushing face he realized that no, she wasn't trying to kiss him again. She was trying to fix his hair because it looked ridiculous. And he was just standing there, taking his time. Like an idiot.

Hearing noises in the distance however, they had run out of time. Immediately whatever stupor he had been in, broke and not willing to use anymore time, they bolted.

Shinichi was sure they looked like quite the pair. There was no way people would look at them and think they hadn't done something. He guessed that meant the plan worked but it didn't make it any less humiliating having to push through snickering guests that 'just knew what they'd been up to'.

They hadn't been up to anything however. Just 'improvising'.

And all he had said in response was, 'right'.

Shinichi hated how that one word was all he said. It gave the impression that they were on the same page. And if that was all that kiss was to her, then clearly they weren't. In the moment he hadn't the brain to make the connection between her actions and the situation they had been stuck in.

He wasn't surprised he didn't get her intentions to begin with. Unlike her, it never crossed his mind to use that as a . . disguise? And the fact that they didn't think exactly alike is what saved them.

But he was still mad.

It was laughable and dramatic and infuriating. Because he couldn't do or say anything in response and he knew it. How could he be angry? How could he complain if her plan actually worked? Yeah, sure his pride was hurt and he was a little embarrassed when he realized they were not on the same page. But he could admit, hurt feelings were easier to deal with than jail time.

It didn't mean he couldn't feel the sting still.

Shinichi knew why it hurt so much. He knew the real reason. Because for once he actually believed that Ran saw him as he saw her. Not just best friends or partners in crime but maybe something . . . more.

They had met years prior in a shared class on psychology. And he didn't want to say it was love at first sight but- it was definitely a lasting first impression.

He knew from early on that he held interest there. An interest that was built upon by the constant joint study sessions and realization that they also held numerous moral similarities. They were just pursuing them in different ways. She wanted to be a lawyer and he wanted to be a detective. Quite often he'd make the joke that they'd be an unstoppable pair in law enforcement; jokes that deep down held a hint of seriousness that, at the time, he hoped she didn't notice.

The truth was much harder to swallow. It had come like a bucket of ice, cold water dumped over his head. It felt like a slap to his face. A stone, hard slap of reality. His subtly backfired or rather- his lack of action did. Because again, how could he be mad when he never made his desires known?

He was a real coward. He never could bring himself to confess no matter how often the thought occurred to him. The excuse being- Ran had never gave any indication that she felt the same. Shinichi didn't want to ruin the strong bond they already had; their friendship that they had built on for years. It just wasn't worth the risk when he couldn't be confident in her answer nor her reaction.

But then she kissed him. His whole mind had shut down. And when they separated, possibilities flooded him. He could confess or was a confession really necessary at this point? Ran liked him. Ran wanted him.

That's what he first thought. So he responded. He had kissed her back. And if that already wasn't an obvious display of his feelings, he had acted like a totally catatonic fool directly afterwards.

Once they knew they were in the clear, Ran had become oddly silent. And distanced. She wouldn't meet his gaze and her cheeks were still a suspicious amount of pink. She seemed extremely fidgety to be beside him and the moment they said their goodbyes for the night, she had bolted.

Shinichi didn't know what he had been expecting exactly. An apology? Maybe even a confrontation over his obvious infatuation with her? But she had said nothing. And she had fled like the police were still chasing them.

Maybe what made it worse was that he couldn't be sure if it was because she had kissed him or, that she realized how he saw her and she panicked. Neither meant well for him. Both gave the impression that kissing him made her uncomfortable.

Shinichi wanted to punch something.

And his shirt still needed to be tucked in.

He got more than halfway of doing that before he remembered he was already home and began asking himself why exactly he was fixing it now. He had no need to do it now and grumbling irritatedly to himself, he instead began taking it off.

They didn't take on another job for almost an entire month after that. Waiting in between gigs wasn't unusual but not planning the next however, was. Normally by this point, he'd already be casing their next event. By this time he would've already consulted Ran.

He had done neither.

Instead, he went to school as normal and also continued helping Inspector Meguire when prompted. Nothing appeared different except the absence of their little side cases.

And that Ran was avoiding him.

It wouldn't of been as bad if it wasn't for their friends noticing that something was off. It also didn't help that even the media was pointing out the unusually long hiatus for the Night Baron.

"So about this . . . thing . . that's not really a thing with Mouri-san. . . Do you wanna talk about it?"

And there was his other issue. Shinichi had long given up trying to explain to Nakamichi that absolutely nothing romantic was going on between him and Ran. Now, after their earlier predicament, it became even more difficult to deny. His friend was convinced that the two were simply trying to keep it under wraps. That for some reason they didn't want anybody to know they were seeing each other. Nakamichi had already switched to asking why exactly Mouri-san wanted to hide things because he was confident the two were already together and that there was no way Shinichi would be the one wanting to hide it.

Grudgingly, Shinichi wasn't sure if he should be insulted by that last comment. Deeming that Nakamichi was correct and there was absolutely no way he'd want to hide the fact they were dating, Shinichi decided to keep his mouth shut. If they were dating, he wouldn't want to hide it. If they were dating, he'd walk home with her instead of his dork of a friend. If they were dating, he wouldn't have to explain why she suddenly decided to drink from his drink at a group study session. If they were dating, it would've been his idea to kiss the life out of her while running from the police. If they were dating-

Hand flying to his head, he could feel the strands of his hair getting scrunched between his fingers. And just as quickly as the tangent had started in his head, it stopped. As if the only thing keeping it all together was his hand against his head.

What was he thinking? He mentally hissed at himself as his teeth clenched. Entertaining Nakamichi's story. He was spiraling in his own thoughts and elaborating an idea that had not, and by the looks of it, would not be happening. Ran and him hadn't even spoken properly to each other since the last job. If they did, it was curt, in passing, or in the presence of someone else. Meaning it was a guarantee they could not discuss anything that had happened- her actions nor his seemingly obvious to him confession. Which all he could do was assume that was her intention.

He wanted to pull his hair from his scalp, it was so frustrating. Was he supposed to take this as a rejection? Was he not worth the time to say she wasn't interested directly to his face? Or did she think he would not accept her refusal? Did she think that low of him? He wouldn't lie- he liked her a lot. The rejection would hurt but they could at least be friends still. She didn't need to run from him as if he had the plague. Shinichi swore he could see the panic in her face anytime she happened to stumble upon him unexpectedly.

The space that stretched between them seemed to be widening. And worried the gap would become much too big to mend, Shinichi did the only thing he could do.

He found them another job.

At first, his intentions had been different. He had wanted to use this as a way to get her to talk to him; to address what exactly happened between them almost a month ago. If it was on a job, that was a guarantee they would have a moment alone. But at the realization of how that would probably make Ran feel- he paused. He would be cornering her. And that realization made him wince internally.

Shinichi didn't want Ran to feel trapped. He didn't want her to feel like she couldn't talk to him anymore just because she didn't want him the same way. They could be friends still. He wanted that more than anything. The rest, he could learn to deal with. He was well aware more than anybody about how kind Ran was. Her silence was most likely her way of sparing his feelings and easing her guilt about not returning his affections. She didn't need to feel guilt though. She wasn't obligated to feel any certain type of way. Ran didn't owe him anything regardless of how much he wanted it.

If he had considered it, he knew Ran must've come to the same conclusion- that he was trying to force her to talk. It would likely explain why she took her time responding to his invitation of working again. Her response had come in the middle of the night when he must've been dead asleep. Shinichi had only noticed the text message after turning his alarm off that morning.

Shinichi hated to think it, but Ran's presence- in a roundabout way- likely did more harm than good for his well being. He had already gotten a little risker the more jobs he took on. He acted rash and with no regard for his own safety after a certain point. Once Ran's presence in the form of an accomplice was assured, the possibilities became endless. And so did the risk. If Ran hadn't been there backing him, he surely would've been done for numerous times. He knew that. But that was also why he even attempted those risks.

Having their first real interaction since their last job being another mission, was a mistake. Not addressing what had happened between them before starting this, was a mistake. He acknowledged that when Ran still wouldn't even look at him directly. She definitely made sure to keep her distance as well.

Shinichi had already decided before meeting up that he would not be mentioning 'that job'. It wouldn't be right and it wouldn't be fair of him to try that. Clearly however, Ran hadn't grasped that yet. Any moment he would be about to start talking, she would tense. As if preparing herself for the inevitable.

That meant she knew this could've been a perfect moment for him to question her. She knew that, yet she came anyway. Not even the possible awkward conversation of unrequited feelings would she leave him to fend for himself. She had started joining him on these jobs to defend him in the first place. Whether she didn't want him the same or not, it was still nice to know that at least that wouldn't change.

He just wished that she would relax. There was no way for him to tell her he wouldn't talk about it without actually bringing it up. By the time she might've understood that, they had already put their 'plan' into motion. If it could even be called that. How could they plan when neither could even look the other in the face let alone have a conversation?

This whole night was a bad idea. Shinichi had the feeling throughout the night and as things progressed, it only got worse. Why would he even think this was a good idea? Any person with half a brain would've just dodged the bullet and asked to have the conversation. He had already come to terms in his head that clearly she didn't want him that way. He knew that. Her avoidance spoke louder than anything she could ever tell him. Yet he also knew, hearing it aloud and in the open provided a confirmation her silence didn't give.

Shinichi needed to hear it; aloud. Regardless if deep down he already knew. He needed it. If anything for his piece of mind and for closure. He had pined for her for a long time. Moving on would not be easy. It would take time. But the process wouldn't begin until she gave her refusal outright.

Having all of this sit on him, literally weighing down on his mind, just before a job was dumb. Her presence was only making it more difficult as was her refusal to even properly acknowledge him. He wasn't doing much better, he'd admit. But he had tried to bridge that gap and Ran wasn't reaching from her end.

How Ran felt was everything to him. Shinichi didn't want his presence to be uncomfortable for her. He was doing everything- even down to the plan- to show it was okay. She didn't have to feel the same way. It was fine. He would be fine.

Where as normally they would walk in as a couple when it came to balls and galas, he decided they could work this one a little more separately. Shinichi was doing everything he could possibly think of, to show her that he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. And after the revelation a month ago, pretending to be his wife would surely do that.

Ran only got more tense. And that only made him more nervous. Neither a good sign when communication and teamwork was the most important aspect to be able to successfully carry out these jobs. That should've been the biggest indicator that once again, this was a bad idea.

He messed up. He knew that. Even in the moment when he forcibly shoved that guy away from her, he knew he was the one at fault. There was no reason for his actions. No logical one anyway. The only thing that powered him in the moment was jealousy. It fueled and burned through him stronger than anything he could remember. Nothing had ever cut off his thought process so quickly. Not even the time Ran kissed him.

But this was not what he'd been expecting when Ran said she would 'make an opening for him'. The sensation that sunk deep into the pit of his stomach was similar to being sick. That was the feeling he got when watching Ran disappear into a hallway with the 'owner' of this gem.

He didn't trust it. Not the look in the guy's eye nor the impatient tug he seemed to give Ran. Shinichi didn't trust any of it. And no, it had nothing to do with his jealousy. It was for Ran's safety that he followed them; that instead of going the clear way his partner indicated, that he trailed behind the two out of sight.

Nothing to do with his personal emotions at all.

Peeking around the corner to find his partner pushed against a door about to be kissed however was, again, nothing he had been expecting. Yet the reaction was instantaneous.

This anger he felt was different. This was a different kind of rage that reared its head forward. A nasty emotion he had never experienced so strongly. With a mixture of fury, possessiveness, and just about anything in-between, before his brain could even catch up and actually think- he was already across the hall and shoving the man roughly.

Ran seemed as surprised as the guy. Her eyes had bulged when suddenly the arms that had been bracing her weight disappeared. She stumbled in her satin dress but Shinichi was too furious to help her straighten. His attention was too focused on the creep that was still on the floor, mostly in shock. Shinichi had pushed him hard. Probably too hard if it was able to knock the guy off his feet but in the moment, he could care less. There was nothing that could be said to him then that would make him believe this guy didn't deserve it. He had been touching Ran. That was enough for him.

After finally realizing what just happened, the guy's eyes shot up to look at him angrily. Shinichi wasn't sure exactly what made the guy do it. He honestly thought he just initiated a fist brawl. But likely taking one look at the simple fury on his face, the guy stood up while wiping the blood off his bottom lip; the anger gone from his eyes and instead a smirk that was anything but happy. With a promise to get security for the both of them, the guy exited the hall from where they had come.

They couldn't let him go; not if they wanted their plan to succeed. Both of them had to know that. But neither of them did a thing till he was long out of sight.

It was Ran that reacted first. It was his turn to be shoved as she pushed her hands against his chest angrily.

"What are you doing?" She questioned him furiously. And from that alone he realized the shove was more out of panicked frustration than any real anger.

Shinichi was fine with that. He was sure he had enough anger for the both of them.

"No- what are you doing?" His voice was incredulous just like his face.

"I thought my job. You said to get close to him. You told me to make sure he was distracted."

"I didn't mean like that."

Ran sighed as if she were exhausted. "Well what did you mean, Shinichi?"

"I-I don't know- just anything except making out with him," he snapped and in his frustration he couldn't help but stutter.

"Why are you getting so upset?"

It was clear to him then before she even spoke that Ran understood he was mad. He knew that when her eyes softened towards him. But from her question, she clearly couldn't understand why he was mad. And if possible that was making him angrier. Because from his last sentence alone, it should be obvious why he was upset. If they took away everything that had happened between them a month ago, with his words alone that he spoke tonight, her answer was still right in front of her. He wasn't understanding why she just wasn't getting it.

"Y-you can't do something like that!"

"And why can't I? I swear you don't make any sense to me, Shinichi. I was only doing what I thought you wanted."

She was only trying to make his job easier for him. And if he weren't so heated he'd recognize that what she had been trying to do really would've made the job easier. That disgusting lowlife would've been so distracted. But to achieve that in that way was unacceptable to him.

"Why would I want you to kiss him?"

"Why would you not?" she countered.

His eyes blazed. "Are you actually serious?" he asked incredulously.

"You're mad." The way she stated it- it wasn't a question. It was a fact. And he was mad. He was so furious it was almost insane how personally he had taken this. Because this wasn't acting for him. It had never been. He never had to pretend to feel more for her. This was something he wanted. Not just on jobs but all the time. Him and Ran together. Him and Ran being a couple.

And he knew he had no right to be so upset. She never gave any indication that this would happen outside of their side jobs. He was the one that was turning it into something it wasn't meant to be- a reality. But she could at least do him the courtesy of not acting clueless. He had clearly kissed her that night without any other intention except that he simply wanted to. She knew that. She wouldn't of avoided him in their regular daily lives if that weren't the case.

He needed to step back. It was too soon to come back to this when clearly he wasn't over it. There wouldn't be another job until he could get over his feelings for her. And if that never happened, so be it. He was done with this conversation.

Shaking his head, Shinichi went to walk away. "Forget it."

Ran being quicker than him however, shot forward and gripped his arm. "How am I supposed to 'forget it'? You're obviously angry. Just tell me why." And for the first time in this conversation, he saw that she was actually beginning to get mad.

He had already decided what he would do though and instead he just shook his head again. "If you don't get it on your own, then it doesn't matter," he responded calmly.

Ran obviously rejected that idea.

"It matters to me! I played my part in your plan. I was going to do something I didn't even want to do-"

He wanted to argue that he never forced her to join him as the Night Baron. But it didn't matter now because this would be the last time.

"-so you could grab a stupid rock-"

That rock could sell for over 500,000 yen, he wanted to say but instead he remained stoic.

"-and you just storm in here like a jealous boyfriend-"

He was jealous. But he wasn't going to engage in this any further.

"-which we're not together-"

They're not. He knew that. He would work on it.

"-which you made that perfectly clear in your plan-"

He knew they weren't together. That's why he switched up their usual plan-

...

"What?!"

Shinichi was actually stunned into silence. There wasn't a lot that could do that for him either. But to bring up the plan that he made specifically to make her comfortable and complain about it, had him even more aggravated. She seemed like she wanted to continue but he wasn't about to allow that to slide.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he finally cut her off, not even paying attention to what she was currently saying. His earlier idea to just let this whole thing go, vanished as quickly as it had come.

Probably thinking she said too much, her tone got quiet and her face went pink.

Regardless of her obvious embarrassment however, she didn't try to take back what she said. "There's other ways to say you're not interested besides pushing me to the side for some side act. You could've told me how you felt. I wouldn't of left you to do this alone," she said with that hint of frustration still there.

But Shinichi was still stuck. Because now nothing was making sense to him. After all this time and he thought he finally figured out why Ran was avoiding him before, what she was saying now completely contradicted all of that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he flat out asked.

A frown marred her features. "You know what we usually do as these kinds of parties. You know what . . acts work better here. And you changed that on purpose," she accused.

"You avoided me!" was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

"Only because I didn't know what to do!" she raised her voice with a completely flustered face now.

"How about talking to me-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Immediately their shouting was cut off; both of them jerking in shock before going on the defensive. They were still on a job after all. But once they saw just who it was that had the audacity to interrupt their argument, they both froze with widened eyes and slackened jaws.

Kaito Kid didn't seem to care if he was intruding or not. For some reason, he looked frustrated as he stormed out behind a pillar.

"Are you two actually kidding me?" And the other pair watched as he came closer without a care.

"Some of us are actually trying to work. I've literally been sitting alone in that room waiting and neither of you came to do anything. I could've bailed an hour ago while you guys were griping during a heist. Not to mention the guy I had to knock unconscious on my way over here," he jabbed a thumb behind him and lo and behold the guy he had shoved to the ground was currently leaning unconscious against the far wall. But the Phantom Thief didn't seem to be through.

"Which- how has this not been resolved yet?"

Shinichi and Ran both flushed scarlet and taking that as his answer, Kid threw his hands up in frustration.

"I swear there has been absolutely no progression between the two of you since the first time I saw you. Do you have any idea how obnoxious that is for a bystander?"

"She avoided you because she kissed you and actually liked it," he pointed a finger at Ran who flushed brighter at his words before turning it to Shinichi next who went pale, "and he changed the plan because he thought you avoiding him meant you didn't like it!"

"Do you see how easy that was? Is there anything that you two do not understand?"

At their mutual silence, Kaitou Kid shook his head aggravatedly before spinning around, his cape billowing out behind him. "And you guys are my rivals?" he grumbled bitterly under his breath. "You guys better have this sorted out before next time."

Even long after Kid left, the two remained standing there completely frozen. They both were staring at where the thief had made his exit but neither seemed to want to break the silence first. Neither wanted to be the first to confirm or deny the accusations thrown at them.

Instead, realizing that they were still very much in the open with an unconscious body and that this job was definitely ruined, Shinichi turned a glance towards Ran. Unsurprisingly she was avoiding looking at him again and her face was still insanely red. But his was too and if it were for the same reason. . . then they had a lot to discuss.

"Do-" he started before cutting himself off. He wasn't sure if now was the right time when they were standing in the hall of one of their heists after having a shouting match. But when her eyes flit up to his quickly at the sound of his voice and saw they looked hopeful, he didn't care.

"Do you want to get something to eat. . . with me?" And then he cleared his throat realizing how informal that sounded and that he better be clear because obviously she didn't go off hints.

"Would like you to go out to dinner with me?"

Her face still impossibly red, she bit her lip before nodding slowly. "I'd like that."

oOo

Months later, Shinichi found himself at another gala. It was the usual type of party he hated attending but he'd have to admit as his eyes followed one figure across the room, this one wasn't too bad.

Until it got closer and certain features became clearer and he realized this was actually the worst one yet.

"Ah, Shin-chan, did you see they have a chocolate fountain?" she beamed excitedly before reaching for him.

Immediately he side stepped the arm that went to link with his own making 'Ran' pout at him. Shinichi didn't care until he noticed the confused stare from across him. He had stated this was his fiancé after all and froze when he caught their puzzled looks.

This time, when she went to link her arm with his, grudgingly, he allowed it. No matter if he was cringing so badly inside, his teeth gnashing together irately. "Yes. I saw," he bit out. And barely getting the whole statement out, his champagne flute he held was snatched from his other hand that wasn't currently wrapped around 'Ran'.

Shinichi had to grit his teeth as he watched her swallow practically the whole thing in one gulp. With a cheeky grin he was sure was meant to seem mockingly innocent considering the actual Ran had done this numerous times before, she held the glass out to him with the one measly sip that was left in it as an offering.

"Keep it," he bit out still trying to keep his cool. There were people still watching them after all. And shrugging she downed the rest of it.

Probably noticing the peculiar tension between the two, it was quite easy to dismiss themselves. And as soon as they were somewhere deemed a little private, Shinichi turned angrily.

"Where is she?"

And mocking him further, violet eyes widened comically as brows scrunched in faux confusion. "Where is who?"

The voice was exact. Purely feminine and a complete copy.

But it wasn't real. It was fake and he could tell.

Or rather he noticed the obvious struggle for Kid to keep his knees bent. It was quite embarrassing and even more infuriating to notice that his girlfriend whom he had been trying to ogle had in fact not actually been his girlfriend. But in actuality a hack of a magician doing his best to maintain the height and appearance of a young woman.

More mortified that he believed for a moment this was his girlfriend enough to ogle her, Shinichi had no patience. Fully irritated now, he gripped Kid's arm furiously while snapping in a harsh whisper, "Where is Ran?" The grip only loosened when he realized they were still technically in the open and he forced a small grin at anybody that looked their way.

"Calm down," the still female voice tried to wave him off. "We had a small issue so we had to do a little switch."

Doing his best to ignore that this wasn't actually Ran though it was her voice, Shinichi prodded further. "What do you mean a 'small issue'? What happened?"

"Well something didn't exactly go according to plan and since we both agree your girlfriend has monster strength, I decided as a last resort we can rely on that," the imposter smiled happily.

He was so proud of himself.

Not really sure if he wants to know what that means, Shinichi began heading towards the hall where he knew Ran would be then. "And you just left her there alone."

"What?" Kid pouted. "You don't have confidence in me, Shinichi?" They were in the hall now and Kid was trailing behind him still in that irritating disguise. He had given up on trying to maintain a shortened height and was walking normally, but out of all the things Shinichi could pick apart about the disguise, it was something else that disturbed him more.

"Do not do that," he spun around angrily. It was one thing to call him 'Shin-chan'. Ran would never call him that except for that single time before. But to speak to him how she actually does- it was starting to freak him out.

Kid frowned for real this time. "Don't do what?"

"Stop sounding like her!" He snapped uncomfortably.

Seeming to finally understand, Kid shrugged before saying in his own voice, "Fine."

But that was just as bad. Hearing that voice with Ran's face.

"Never mind- that's worse," Shinichi sighed heavily and fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Just stop talking."

This was the first and only time they'd ever team up again. Shinichi couldn't believe they managed to talk him into it in the first place. They had been right. There was no point in the two thieves fighting over who stole the ring first when it was clear the goal was the same. Not like last time when the two men both stumbled into a treasure's room two weeks ago wanting to steal the same thing. And after they managed to almost both get caught last time due to them arguing, Ran had been the one to present this idea.

But Shinichi couldn't get over what the dunce had accused him of. 'Stealing his thunder'- as if they were competing to be the most wanted criminal in the fraud department. He wasn't trying to steal anything. As far as he was concerned, Kid could carry all media attention he wanted. Shinichi would never try to take that. But he couldn't help it if fans of theirs constantly argued over who the best thief actually was.

And yes, amazingly that was a thing.

Shinichi resented that though. He was no thief. And after watching him a little more closely, Shinichi realized that just maybe . . . Kid wasn't either.

Neither one wanted the treasure for themselves. Besides Kid's weird rule that he needed to 'look' at the gem before they decided anything. It was clear the Phantom Thief was looking for a treasure and once he found it, he wouldn't be giving it back. Shinichi wondered if that was likely the reasoning for what Kaito Kid was doing in the first place. He had never thought much of the guy. He had always just assumed that he was some mindless criminal that flaunted and attempted to disguise what he was- a criminal- behind obnoxious magic acts. Because that's all they were. Even if sometimes it took a bit to realize how the thief had done it, he always figured it out. There was always an explanation. And that's why Shinichi didn't understand nor did he care to learn just why Kid paraded around like a magician.

But now working with him, it annoyed him, but his curious mind made it easy for him to at least attempt to analyze his behavior.

Kid was doing this for a reason. A reason other than crime at least. He was positive Kid would never try to actually kill or harm a cop or bystander. He always took the treasure and bailed. And every single time, he would read the next day that the treasure had magically been 'returned' to the rightful owner.

Kaito Kid never held onto a single gem he stole. Not a single time.

It was difficult for him to admit, but Ran was right. The two were very similar. Even if they carried it out differently or if their way of doings things were the opposite of the others, their outcome was always the same. Shinichi wasn't foolish enough to believe they had the same goal; that they did this for the same reason. It was clear that Kid was looking for something and once he found it, he would not be returning it. But though he would never say it aloud, the Magician was not a bad person. He always wanted to believe there was no good enough reason to break the law. There was nothing that warranted another person committing a crime. But if that were actually true- then what were he and Ran doing? He wanted to believe they were doing the right thing. And so grudgingly, he accepted that about the Phantom Thief.

Things were very rarely black and white.

oOo

"Who was your nice date?"

The soft voice called over to him gently from up ahead on the path. Recognition immediately pulled his attention away from his feet he had been watching dejectedly; his hands stuffed inside his suit pockets. The words that filtered in however had him perking up.

Supressing a grin he shrugged. "Just some girl I met in college psychology."

Ran blushed slightly but smiled all the same. It wasn't till he reached her that she began walking beside him. "She seemed to be dressed a bit risqué though, don't you think?"

Shinichi peeked over at her as she stayed beside him. She wasn't looking back but he could only assume she was wondering how he liked her dress.

Which he refused to judge after having only seen Kaito Kid wearing it.

Referring back to her question, he snorted. "Probably because the wrong person was in it."

He would've much rather seen the real Ran wearing it.

Finally breaking composure- stopping whatever roundabout way she was trying to ask, she stopped walking. "But it was a perfect copy!" she protested pouting and Shinichi had to wonder what exactly she was after here. He had a feeling he'd be in trouble no matter the answer he gave her.

But perfect? Perfect clone, his ass.

"There are just some things that can't be copied," he supplied simply even though in his mind, he knew exactly what parts of Ran couldn't be imitated.

Ran was not content with his response. If anything, she almost became suspicious as he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Like what?"

Realizing he might've steered this conversation somewhere he definitely didn't want, Shinichi swallowed hard when she raised a brow.

"What did he not copy?" she asked outright.

If she wants an honest explanation . . .

Sighing, he looked away, turning his nose up. "Your chest does not sit that high. Not only does he not have any, but your breasts are large. He most likely had to make them rest higher to disguise that. And though your thighs do have quite a bit of muscle, they are much softer than what he presented- not to mention he was actually walking around with his knees bent slightly to accommodate the height difference."

Ran didn't respond right away. Her silence dragged on and eventually he became nervous. He definitely confessed too much. Even if she was his girlfriend, surely it would make her uncomfortable to realize he watched her that intently. And on every little detail as well. But Shinichi couldn't help but to be insulted that she said Kid was an exact copy. That would never be possible. Ran could not be replicated. Especially when Shinichi could pick out so many things that the magician had gotten wrong in his disguise. Of course the detective knew there was only so much one could do in a disguise. But still, Shinichi was too much of a perfectionist and Ran was perfect in his eyes.

Suddenly his arm was being gripped gently and Shinichi blinked oddly when Ran slowly wrapped her arms around his. At first he thought she would be mad. He had openly admitted to ogling her. And if she asked him to be more honest, he would have to say he'd been watching her long before they started dating.

"Thank you," she said softly, startling him by breaking the silence and catching him off guard with her response. The confusion must've clearly been on his face because she turned red again. Her smile didn't drop though.

"It's nice to know that you could tell it wasn't me. . . that all you see if me."

They had begun walking again and Shinichi couldn't help but think he definitely dodged a bullet. But he would've been lying if he said anything else. And though it made him anxious to know that all his thoughts and feelings were out and on the table, he was sick of hiding them. Ran deserved to know exactly how he thought about her. She deserved to know just how much he noticed her and for how long he wanted to be with her.

And if he was rewarded for honestly. . .

"I guess that means you'll have to wear that dress again so I can actually give you an opinion on it," he said nonchalantly even though his gaze continued to rest ahead of him. He hoped it came out like a suggestion because he really hadn't gotten to see her in it. Currently she was wearing jeans and coat after having to give up the dress for Kid's impromptu disguise.

"Can't. I'm pretty sure Kid went home in it," Ran innocently said completely missing why he wanted her to wear it again and bursting his bubble in the process.

Deflating, he changed his mind. "He really is a thief," he grumbled.

Ran raised a brow. "And then what are you, Night Baron?"

"Alright," he said sternly while narrowing his eyes and she began giggling.

Clenching her arms much more firmly around his arm, he felt her chest press against it even more making him gulp. "Don't worry. I have something else I can wear just for you," she whispered.

#dcmk #shinran #fanfic #fanfiction #shinran fanfic #dcmk fanfic #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #maybe a little phantom thief #kaito kid #;)#og #my wrtitng

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