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osarina · 8 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you.

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then…

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before.

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him.

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man?

Who is that?

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering?

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia.

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it?

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know.

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake.

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust.

A mistake.

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake.

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that.

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake.

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors.

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself.

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki.

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him.

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye.

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him.

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him.

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did.

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently.

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.”

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?”

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild.

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy.

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him.

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused.

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth.

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has.

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could.

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away.

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached.

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is.

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum.

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.”

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before.

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia.

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born.

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City.

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go.

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings.

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone.

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly.

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive.

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in.

Odasaku saved him.

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed.

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat.

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it.

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out.

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying.

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway.

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed.

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building.

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him.

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports.

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks.

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place.

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead.

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger.

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

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percervall · 6 months ago

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it's a bad idea (fuck it, it's fine) — part 2

Summary: your housemates give you an offer you can't refuse. What's the worst that could happen? Pairing: Jenson Button x fem!reader, Fernando Alonso x fem!reader, Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: discussions around consent Word count: 827

Part 2 of the Fuck It series

Pushing the plate away from you, you lean back in the chair as you rest the coffee mug on the knee that’s pulled up to your chest. You’re lucky that Fernando is also more of a coffee person and quickly learnt just how you like yours once you moved in. Sometimes you still wonder how on God’s green earth you ended up being roommates with some of motorsports finest.

Looking around the table, you can’t help but smile as they tease each other about something that happened during the last race. Jenson laughs at Fernando’s misfortune although he is quick to sympathise seeing as they’re in the same boat with regards to their cars being nowhere near Mercedes or even Sebastian’s Ferrari. For as long as you’ve known him, Jenson has always been easy going. His teasing and generally positive attitude is what led to the two of you becoming friends in the first place. And because of that friendship, you became a lot closer to Fernando as well when he rejoined McLaren. The two of them had an easy partnership, both on and off the track, and whenever you joined a race, Jenson made sure to include you in their conversations. Somehow being friends with both of them also meant you got to know Mark a lot better, and in turn Sebastian as well. The Aussie had retired from the sport well before you met Jenson, but he remained a constant in the paddock with his punditry job for Channel4. And from what you were told, the German driver had mellowed out since his RedBull days. The four of them seem to have such a deep understanding of each other, they work together seamlessly. Apparently even more so than you had expected.

And therein also lies the problem. Because while sharing seems to be somewhat normal for them, it makes you wonder where that leaves you in this arrangement. Would it always be like this morning, where they’re all involved in one way or another? How can you make sure it’s equal? Would they take turns? The thought alone has you swallowing thickly as your mind whirls with fantasies.

“Are you okay, doll?” Jenson’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. Just-.. Just thinking,” you reply, taking another sip from your now luke-warm coffee. The men share a look that you decide to ignore as you down what’s left of your coffee.

“I don’t regret this morning,” you say, worried they will misinterpret your hesitancy.

“But?” Sebastian fills in for you.

“But it leaves me with. Questions,” you add, not making eye contact.

“You can ask us anything, sweetheart,” Mark says gently and Jenson gives your knee a squeeze. Taking a moment to gather your thoughts you look out of the window.

“I guess the biggest question I have is how will this work? If we’re really gonna do this, if I’m gonna-.. Will it always be one on one or-.. Or will everyone be involved?” Something like desire swoops low in your stomach as you voice the latter part of the question and you can feel your cheeks heat up.

“That is very much up to you, sweetheart,” Mark says, as the other three nod in agreement.

“We should have some sort of system, like to check if you’re okay with whatever will happen,” Sebastian offers, “do you have a safe word already?”

“A safe word? I-.. No, my ex wasn’t one for anything other than missionary and the occasional oral,” you confess, stomach in knots at the implications of maybe having to use a safe word.

“I use traffic light system, very easy to follow and understand,” Fernando comments. Your imagination runs wild with all the possible scenarios in which Fernando would use this system.

“Hey, it’s just a way to make sure it’s fun and pleasurable for everyone,” Jenson says quietly, picking up on the way your head is going about a mile a minute. You nod, taking a deep breath. The longer you think about it, the more sense it makes. Having this in place will make sure, like Jenson said, that everyone is having a good time. You had just never considered that you are allowed to check in and see whether you’re okay with what’s about to happen. While it never felt like you didn’t have a choice in your previous relationship, consent was not something that was actively discussed; It was just always assumed. And in hindsight you maybe let him get away with blurring more boundaries than you had realised.

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” you say, relaxing back into the chair.

“Like Mark said, whatever we do, it’s up to you,” Sebastian reiterates. You nod in understanding once more, the knot in your stomach untangling slowly. You had trusted them enough to be roommates for the last year and a half without them overstepping a boundary or taking advantage of you. They care, you think, they’re not him. Fernando presses a kiss to your temple as he pours you another cup.

“It’ll be fun, nena,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes, and the implications have you clenching your thighs together. Something tells you Fernando could very well be right.

A smaller part to establish the relationship between the five of them a little bit more and to set things up for what's to come 👀

Feel free to let me know what you think (or any ideas you have for this series), your comments, tags, and likes means the world to me 💜

taglist: @2pagenumb @alishamai @anotherblackreader @Barbare2 @blackcat-mors13 @cassielikesreading @champomiel @dannyramirezwife @darkwaterrose @brklynlewis @the-depressed-fellow @emlynblack @forza55 @heyheyheyggg @hiireadstuff @honkyscats @hrts4scarr @jeffs77 @jaimeleannavanlloman @Leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @lightdragonrayne @mehrmonga @prttypqrtts @raizelchrysanderoctavius @ruledbyproblematique @scarlett11xo @skatingiswalkingincursive @tallrock35 @thatsadsmallchild @szobosz @vinvantae @whoreforeveryon @woozarts @zagreus

#f1 fanfic #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #fuck it fic

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hotchfiles · 2 months ago

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smells like roses — aaron hotchner x gn!reader

WHUMPTOBER ENTRY FOR @tobias-hankel; prompts: suicide/attempted suicide, "you can't save everyone"

Aaron thinks you might be mad at him, so he tries to surprise you with flowers and a cozy night in. He finds your dead body instead.

Wordcount: 1,094

Content Headsup: SUICIDE. Main character death (apparently I'm never stopping the always kills the reader allegations). The suicide is not graphically described, reader is found inside a bathtub but I didn't write in the method, the state of the body (aside from dead, heavy and drenched), so it isn't THAT bad. This is pretty much just Aaron's POV to the day he finds you dead, so HEAVY ANGST, but not graphic. It is not implied that Aaron was at fault for it, the reasons behind the suicide are never discussed, reader is just depressed. Also, no dialogue and no use of y/n.

You can’t save everyone.

Those are the words flowing around his head. He can’t save everyone and that has always been his biggest fear. His Achilles heel.

He can’t save everyone and worse than that: Aaron couldn’t save you.

It’s his curse, really. Falling for someone only to inevitably lose them. It has happened every single time before: Haley, Kate, Haley again. Beth moves to Hong Kong and he meets you. He should’ve realized sooner that he wasn’t born to love or be loved for long.

Still, when you first smiled at him that one Monday morning back in June two years ago he knew he had to try. He had no choice but to love you.

And he did it so easily, made an effort to show you what he effortlessly felt for you from the beginning, as if he was never hurt before, like a teenage boy with a crush on someone pretty.

First time he saw you taking pills Aaron didn’t question it, thought to himself they were probably vitamins or something unimportant like that. Then he witnessed the panic in your eyes when you thought you had run out of it before your appointment for the prescriptions.

Antidepressants. He felt the guilt of not noticing it wash over him like a tsunami, his chest tight, his heart heavy. A profiler and your boyfriend and he missed all clues hidden under your smiles and your loving touch.

Aaron made sure not to let guilt paralyze him, calming you down, showing you no judgment and helping you find the missing pills you still had.

He acts normal on your good days but doubles the way he cares for you on your bad ones, even when busy on a case he calls, reassures you of his love, sends you food and asks to see you eating it.

He thought that would be enough. You were medicated and seemed effortlessly happy most of the time. Aaron really believed that and being by your side would be enough.

He worried. Worried about your well being. Made sure you wouldn’t starve yourself or forget to care for yourself on bad days. But he never worried about having to try to save you and failing to do so. He never laid awake thinking about finding your lifeless body in your bathtub. He wasn’t prepared for this.

The day started as it always does for Aaron, so early it can’t be considered bright. 5 AM on the dot, fresh coffee being made by the smart coffee maker you got him for Christmas last year the only noise heard as he quietly enters his boy’s bedroom. It’s too early and he feels sorry for Jack, but he has to be taken to his aunt’s before Aaron heads to the BAU.

Jessica’s car is at a mechanic and will only be done after lunch, it will be easier for her to take the metro with Jack this way.

Normal issues of a normal day. The worst he imagined could happen was an impromptu case, a flat tire even. If only he knew how his day would end.

It’s 10 AM and he should’ve paid more attention to the fact you haven’t texted him good morning. No breakfast pictures, no horoscope screenshots. But you’ve been working so hard and have been so obviously tired that he’s glad you’re sleeping in. You might be more of a workaholic than he is and Aaron just wants you to enjoy resting for a bit.

By noon he is swamped, drowning in paperwork and consultations that need his full attention, and Aaron knows he’s not at fault for doing his job but he wishes he did more than just snap a picture of his salad, he wishes he noticed it sooner, how you didn’t react to it, how he still didn’t know what you had for breakfast or what the day held for Scorpios.

8 PM he finishes work and it dawns on him how absent he was and how silent you’ve being. He curses under his breath, silent treatment was never a thing for the both of you so he assumes you must be extremely mad and Aaron learned from past experiences that he’s not the best at noticing subtlety when it comes to his love life. Maybe it was something he did or said, maybe it’s something he forgot.

Since meeting you he has been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, buying you singles or full bouquets almost every week, but still, that’s the first thing he does after leaving work, however mad you are, flowers and a surprise visit should be enough to melt it away.

He’s happy, annoyingly so if he thinks back, he’s not worried, it’s always easy to solve problems with you and he’s excited to see you, it wasn’t on his plans and that makes him extra giddy, a night surrounded by your scent and your voice is all he needs to feel recharged.

Aaron texts Jess to ask her to keep Jack for the night, tells her he can pick him up if she needs to, but he’s lucky she always seems to be prepared when he needs her, which is often, but less now with your help.

Maybe it would be better if he was worried. It would be less painful, less shocking.

Maybe if Aaron didn’t think you were just asleep when he turned the keys you gave him only to find a dark silent living room, the pained shriek that left his throat after following the bathroom light wouldn’t have been so loud.

But he didn’t worry. So when the bathtub overflown water hit his shoes, the flowers hit the floor, desperately let go as he yelled your name, his arms flying quickly to your cold body, trying to get you out as much as hugging you.

There’s something to be said about lifting dead drenched weight, especially over wet tiles. He slips to his knees before being able to, ends up dragging you out with him.

Aaron does CPR, the paramedics called by the neighbors don’t hide the pity in their eyes when they arrive and see him still trying.

Your name a begging sound, hurting more than the sore muscles of his arms from trying to lift and CPR a dead body.

The wet and stepped on roses leave a lingering scent, one he won’t ever forget.

He’s been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, and now they are forever linked, intertwined with death. Yours.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x you #hotch x y/n

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thecuriousbeauty · 3 months ago

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Traitor-The Present (Harry Styles au- Mafia!Harry)

Chapter Six

A/N:- Hold on tight cause this is going to be a roller coaster kind of chapter. If you haven't read the other parts, I suggest you read them cause this chapter holds important details. You can find the other parts here.

Series Synopsis:- y/n is a hard working painter, trying to make the ends meet. She lives with and takes care of her sick Uncle, the only one she has for a family. She has dreams to make it big, and when the desperation for money strikes, she has to make a choice. Walk away after listening to an incredible deal that would fix all her problems, or take up the deal. A top secret, risky deal, which involves meeting Harry Styles.A man once rumored to be a dangerous secret weapon of a leading mafia.

Warnings: Violence, use of guns, physical assault, mentions of nightmare, killings. Some smut and a lot of angst.

Word Count: 8k

__________________________________________________________

y/n jumps as she hears the sound of the glass window breaking. Someone's blood was splattered on her hands, and on the walls. Then she flinches as she hears the gunshot.

y/n wakes up with a gasp, and sees Harry's green eyes staring back at her.

"W-What?", she whispers, hand on her heart.

"You okay?", he asks, hand reaching to stroke her hair and move it away from her sweaty face. "Same dream again?"

"Yeah..", she sighs, taking a deep breath. "I-I'm sorry for waking you up.."

"No, I wasn’t sleeping.", Harry runs his hand down y/n's bare back as she curls up to him, placing her head on his chest. It was around midday and y/n had fallen asleep after their mind blowing sex and a nice relaxing shower. She thought Harry had too.

She looks up at him, noticing how his eyebrows were furrowed, and his soft lips laying in a straight line. “Were you thinking about Reagen?”

Harry nods, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You should figure out what those nightmares are about, love. You’re getting them more often.”

Yes, she had to, but that wasn’t the most pressing matter right now. "If Reagen’s alive, why is she not searching for you? What was she doing all these years?"

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe she's planning something, like she was that night. She was hiding something from me. I can't remember what.."

The thought of Reagen being alive opened up many more questions in y/n's head. If everything Romania, Hans and Oliver told her was true, Reagen was capable of anything. She was the best in their gang, and the only one who came close to her capabilities was Harry. Did something happen in the gang? Did she find someone doing something they weren't supposed to be doing?

She knew Reagen was friendly, happy and treated everyone nicely. Hans said they were her family. Then why wouldn't she come back to that family if she was alive? Unless, she wanted everyone to think she was dead while she was secretly plotting something.

What if Reagen wasn't the kind of woman they thought she was? What if she had another face? One that they didn't know existed.

"We had a fight...", Harry’s voice wavers as he tries to remember. "T-That's all I can remember now..I'm getting glimpses back, can't piece it all together yet."

"A physical..fight?", y/n asks.

"I think so..yeah.", Harry closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "My head hurts.."

"Okay, it's okay..relax.", y/n doesn't hesitate to pull him into a hug. She couldn’t imagine what he must be going through as he remembered those glimpses. "Shh..it's okay, you're okay.", she whispers, scooting up on the bed so he could bury his head in her chest.

y/n had also thought about it, and she came up with a lot of evil Reagan possibilities as well. But one thing that drowned out all those suspicious was the fact that they were in love, and they were going to get married. Harry was going to propose to her. They were soulmates.

"I want to go back.", Harry whispers to her. "I don't feel good about this, we have to go back y/n."

She wanted to agree and go back to San Francisco, but they had about a day and a half left.

"W-We've come so close. We'll go back soon babe. I promised Sania I'd drop the car off..."

"Fine. Let's get going then.", he sits up. "Did you get his number?"

"N-Number?"

"Your friend's, who told you about my story?"

"I um, no, he hasn't gotten back to me on social media yet.", she lies, looking away from him. Harry suddenly grabs her face, fingers around her jaw as he lifts her face up so her eyes look into his deep green ones.

"I believe it's the truth you're telling me, sunshine.", he says softly, his tone wasn’t rough at all. That's what made it more scary. The usual tone of endearment didn't sound so good now. Harry was remembering things and she was scared. Will the person whom everyone fears, come out? Will the Harry she loves disappear to become the one he used to be?

"I-It is.", she whispers, goosebumps starting to creep up her arms from the coldness of his fingers. Why was he so freezing cold? His eyes studied hers, and she was tempted to yank her face away from his hold, but she stayed still. He wouldn't hurt her, he said so himself.

But he admitted that he had a physical fight with Reagen. What if Harry was the one who was hiding something and Reagen found out.

She resists a flinch as Harry lets go of her jaw and his hand moves to her head. But it was to check on her bruise. “Mm, that’s healing up well..”

She tries for a smile as he kisses the skin right above the wound.

She needed to know more information now before it was too late. They hit the road after getting some tacos for lunch, and drove for a straight two hours before stopping for a tea break.

"Let me make a few calls, be right back.", she tells Harry as she gets up from the seat next to him, and he nods, continuing to drink his tea silently.

She walks away, making sure he wouldn't hear her, before calling Romania.

"Hello, Romania isn't here, what's up?", it was Hans who answered.

"Hans..this is important."

"Duh, do you think I can't take important news? You will freak out if you know what my everyday job is-"

"-Fine, stop boasting.", she cuts him off in annoyance. "What has Harry done? Has he k-killed anyone? I need to know."

"Why do you need to know that, y/n?", Hans sounds more serious.

"Because..he's getting things back and I need to know who I'm traveling with!"

"And having sex with.", Hans adds, with a little chuckle. "Wait. You said he's remembering things, what did he say?"

"Hans, answer my question first-"

"-I make the rules y/n, tell me what you know and I'll tell you what you want to know."

She groans, she really hates him. She tells him everything.

"Wow..that is great progress. I'll tell everyone. Great talking to y/n-"

"-I will stop this right now and tell him everything if you don't tell me what the fuck I'm dealing with.", y/n snaps, and lowers her voice when she realizes it was loud. "Hans, please."

"Okay.", Hans sighs. "Yes, he has killed. Everyone in this gang has killed somebody, y/n. Harry shot his alcoholic dad before joining. He has planted microchips for spying on our enemies, hacked into their accounts, blew up their cars, hotels, houses, along with them and their family. He has led bombing missions along with Reagen, everything they both led was a success, until that gold smuggling mission. Anyone who crosses Harry is pretty much dead."

Harry killed people. The kind Doctor she knew used to kill people. Probably with that same gun he had in his bag. She couldn’t even start to imagine Harry doing all that now. No, he wouldn’t. That was in the past. She frowns as she realizes something, "Y-You didn't sound surprised when I told you that Reagen's alive."

"Um.."

"W-Were you all lying to me?", y/n gasps. She blindly trusted their dumb story.

"You wouldn't agree to do this if you knew the truth about Harry and Reagen. She is alive, but we don't have any information about her. Our people search for her every day. I do miss her, I didn't lie about that, y/n."

"What else are you hiding from me?", y/n asks. "Hans, I'm putting my life in danger here, for you guys."

"I know, y/n, and we're so grateful that you're doing this. Listen, it's just one more day. Tomorrow, we'll meet you at the location. Romania will call later to tell you all the details. Please, hold on for some more time."

She hangs up, and sighs. There was too much going on, she was going to go crazy if she continued talking to these people. She had to talk to someone normal. The only normal person in her life.

"Hi! I just finished baking some cookies.", Uncle Luke answers, making her smile. "Cookies? I wish I could have some of those right now."

"Aw, what happened? You sound tensed.", Uncle Luke says.

"I-I don't know what to do, Uncle Luke. Things are a bit confusing and scary..I'll have the money and I'll be back to you on the first flight tomorrow once everything is over, but..I don't know what'll happen in the next few hours."

She didn't know if Uncle Luke remembered where she was or why she was doing this, but she just had to tell him that.

"Trust your gut.", he replies. "Your instincts are always right, y/n. Do what you need to do. I'll be waiting for you."

She closes her eyes, taking in a fresh breath of air. It smelled like rain. The smell of the soil and the air when they’re preparing for the shower from above. She looks up at the sky as the gray clouds gather and little droplets of rain fall in crazy chaotic drops. The gusting wind carrying them in wild vertices one moment in diagonal sheets the next.

"Thanks Uncle Luke. I'll call you later! It's raining!", she covers her phone's speaker from the rain.

"Yeah, don't get sick in the rain! I love you!"

"I love you too, bye!"

y/n feels someone come up behind her, and turns around but it was only Harry. He held an umbrella, and his arm quickly ushered her to his side, so she was under the umbrella. She looks at him as he wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close. He had human blood on his hands in the past. y/n wondered why she didn't feel disgusted, or why her feelings for him didn't change after what she had learned about him. Maybe it was because she always suspected it.

"Come on darling, rain's getting heavier.", Harry brings her out of her daydream with a gentle kiss to her cheek, and they start walking to the car. Harry gets her in, before going to the other side.

"You okay?", the beautiful green eyes looked at hers.

She smiles and nods. "Thank you."

"Of course.", Harry smiles back and leans forward to cup her cheek with one hand, the other hand going to her hip. "I-I have a feeling things are going to change between us.", y/n can't help but voice her concern.

"Why do you feel so?", he asks, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I don't know, Harry.", she whispers, her arms wrapping around his neck and her hands interlocking at the back of his neck.

"I know I've done things, y/n..but it doesn't change my love for you. I fell in love with you since the day I met you.", he whispers. "You're so full of sunshine, maybe that's why I was attracted to you. You're the light to my darkness. I will burn down the world for you, baby. I can't explain how much I love you. You know I'm bad at expressing my feelings. I..I'll always have your back, and I wish things weren't like this. I'm so sorry."

"I-It's not your fault..", y/n whispers, stroking the hair at the back of his head. "I knew everything and I still fell in love with you."

"I never want to lose you.", Harry closes his eyes, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I can't live without you. I love you so much, sunshine."

It was like he was holding back something he really wanted to say.

"I love you too, Harry." She hugs him tight. "When you remember it all, will you go back to your old life or will you come back home with me?"

"I'll go where you go.", he mumbles. "Wasn't my speech clear enough?"

She laughs, throwing her head back as his lips attack all over her face, leaving gentle little loving kisses on her skin. She couldn't change his past, but she could change his present and the future. She didn’t know what was going to happen in the next 24 hours, but at least she has something to hold on to. She has Harry.

_________________________________________________

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. But what does the end of the world really mean? If all human beings die, does it mean the world does too? y/n wanted to ask what Uncle Luke thought about the end of the world. He usually had the right answers and the right thoughts.

y/n woke up that day with a feeling of dread hanging in the air. She felt like it was doomsday.

She knew that she would be on a plane back home by the end of the day, and even though Harry had said that he would go where she goes, she had a few doubts. Romania and her gang clearly want him back in their gang and they will go to any extent for that. What if they grab him and shove him in a kidnapper van and tell her to get away? No, she chides herself. Harry's strong and they're all scared of him, that can't happen.

The only bright side was that she would get her money, and she would be done with all this. She still felt bad for not telling Harry the complete truth. She would today, she would tell him everything.

Harry didn't look nervous, unlike y/n. Why would he? He didn't know what was going to happen. But he did seem to be deep in his thoughts that morning.

If nothing ended well, she would still cherish whatever memories they made.

Harry kisses her sweetly for a few minutes, running his hands all over her body, like he had it memorized. Every curve and every dip. y/n kisses his lips passionately. She couldn't stop, she needed it. His lips were softer than anything she's ever known, soft like a first snowball, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. He was so effortlessly sweet.

y/n and Harry loved having rough sex, and completely ruining each other, but that morning? That morning, Harry made love to her until she could call out his name in her dreams and reach for him in her sleep. Until she could think of no one and nothing beyond the touch of his hand, the caress of his lips. Their bodies intertwined and souls entwined as they drowned in each other.

It was like he knew this wasn’t going to happen for a while.

Later, they took a walk around the streets of Lupton, Arizona, where they had made their stop last night. They walked hand in hand, looking at the different shops on the streets, people going to work in their morning rush and children boarding school buses. They got some delicious chilaquiles for breakfast. A dish consisting of corn tortillas that are fried, cooked in salsa and sprinkled with cheese. They were served with eggs and beans.

Three hours and thirty minutes would be the travel time today. y/n thought this road trip idea would be horrible at first, but now, she didn't want it to end. Traveling to different places with Harry was so much fun.

"Are you remembering things?", y/n asks Harry as she sees him look outside the window, observing every little stall and the streets.

"Yes.", Harry replies, and she nods. "Where..where exactly are we going y/n?"

"Um, there's a great coffee shop on the way, just twenty minutes before New Mexico. I thought to make a stop there."

That was the location Romania had told her to get him to.

"Coffee shop..", he mumbles. "These roads seem familiar. I think we took it quite often."

"Yeah?", she asks, even though she had that information already.

She stays quiet, letting Harry put all the pieces together that were slowly coming back to him.

When they were near the location, y/n thinks Romania sent her the wrong address or something, because all she could see was an empty huge ground.

"Let me see, maybe I got the directions wrong-"

"No, you're right. There's the coffee shop." She looks up as Harry points to a distance. She squints and sure enough sees a small shed. It was a short walk away.

"Oh, great. Let's go get some coffee if it’s still open.", she mumbles nervously, and gets out before Harry studies her face. They start walking towards the abandoned shop, and she lets Harry walk forward, lingering behind him so she could call Romania.

She didn't answer the call, and she rolled her eyes. If her idea was to throw them in the middle of nowhere, it was working. Harry was standing a few feet away from the shop, staring at it.

"Harry?", she asks, coming up behind him. "What happened?"

"I remember everything.", he whispered, and turned to her. "This was where we had the accident and the fight."

y/n nods, eyes moving to the shop, and something strikes. The windows. They were broken, and stained. Wait..was that blood? She steps closer to look at it. Sure enough there was shattered glass falling inside the shop, and blood stained the walls. She takes a step inside, feeling shivers climb up her spine. She gasps when she realizes.

This was the exact same place in her repeated dreams.

She grabs Harry’s arm, heart hammering in her chest. "H-Harry, this is the place in m-my dreams..", she tells him, frantic.

"Yes, it is. I know.", Harry had no surprise. "Everything looks the same from five years ago."

"Why did I see this in my dream?", she asks him, confused. Harry's eyes ran over her face. "You tell me, y/n."

He said her name like he was mocking her.

"Harry.", she squeezes his arm. "W-What’s going on?”

He said he remembered everything. Did he remember something that suddenly made him change his tone towards her? Was he the old Harry again? She tried to figure it out through his eyes and demeanor, but he remained calm, and expression neutral.

"It's not me who has to remember.", Harry speaks and his eyes were staring at hers like he could read her soul. "Please stop playing this game."

"W-What game? Harry.", y/n gets scared now. "I-I'm not your enemy, I only tried to help you remember, and now you do. I-I know what you are capable of doing, but you wouldn’t do that now. I-I know who you are."

He cracks a smile, which soon turns into a grin and then he bursts into laughter. "You realize how silly you sound?"

y/n didn't understand what he was doing. "Harry, some people made me befriend you to get you to remember the things that happened five years ago. I-I did this for them, they agreed to give me money that I needed for Uncle Luke's treatment and a better home, and-" She takes in a breath, feeling her heart race at abnormal speed. "-I shouldn't have done it, I-I didn't mean to do this to you Harry. But whatever we had is true-"

"Shut up!"Harry spits out, his voice echoing through the empty ground and her lips pressed together as she takes one step away from him. She deserved it. He has the right to be angry at her.

"Whatever we had, huh?", he mocks. "I was blind. I was blindly in love with you and you betrayed me."

"I didn't betray you-"

She watches as a bunch of cars enter the ground. All the same. Black SUVs. There were five cars, and a white sedan behind it all. She figured it was Romania.

"See, those were the people who made me do this. I only followed what they told me to do, this trip, everything.", she tries to explain to Harry. People step out of the car. Men in black suits, each having a rifle. She recognised some of the men, they were involved in the fight that day. From one of the cars stepped out Romania and Oliver.

"R-Romania tell him, tell him you told me to do everything.", she tells her. Romania walks to stand in front of the men, folding her arms and looking at them. She didn't speak.

"Why did you do it?", Harry talks, making her look back at him. His eyes were blazing. "Why did you go behind my back? I was with you through everything. We were partners. I know you didn't do it for money, I know you didn't do it to become the number one. All of the memories we had..what was everything for? You were just a traitor in the end, Reagen."

Reagen? Why did he call her Reagen?

"I played this fucking game for you! It was killing me inside, acting like I don't remember anything, acting like I just met you for the first time in my life!", Harry shouts, tears clouding his eyes. "I-I believed there was a reason. There had to be something. You wouldn't have done that to me for nothing. T-Tell me why, Reagen, please. Why did you want me dead?"

She realizes everything with a chill. R-Reagen? Did they think she was Reagen? They were out of their minds. Harry played the game? He knew everything that happened five years ago. He was acting to get her..to get her to remember?

All the small hints he had dropped came to her mind. Since the very first day she saw him. He had known who she was the moment he saw her in that bar.

He lifted his head up suddenly and looked straight at her, like he knew she had been watching him. Their eyes connected for a second, before he looked away.

He knew how she painted, because he had seen it before.

The colors.", he answers, looking away from her again. "They have a hidden meaning, most of the time. The artist might not even have an idea when they start, but it turns out beautiful when they're done. Like they gave life to it."

The familiar feeling of his hand, of his arms, the feeling of safety and warmth.

He chose her drink in the bar because he already knew what she liked.

"I do like it.", she decides, taking another sip. "How did you know?"

"Just like that.", he shrugs.

All the times he asked her about her dream, trying to get her to figure out what they were about. He already knew what they were about.

"I-I..I don't believe in it."

"In love?", y/n asks, and he nods, bringing his hand back and looking at her with those beautiful eyes. "Do you believe in love y/n?"

y/n nods. "Of course. Love is like this overwhelming sentiment that keeps you up all night and makes you feel like a little child waiting for Christmas day. The feeling of having a soulmate and a place you can really call home, that sounds promising."

Harry's eyes ran over soft features, as he spoke, "You sound like you have been in love."

y/n laughs, biting into a cookie. "Nah, me? I talk too much, and I'm weird. Who would want to love me?"

"There might be someone.", Harry whispered softly.

All the times he got things right about her. She thought he was just very observant. But no, he had known everything about her. She had been his once before.

She remembers all his words. "You drive me fucking crazy. Why are you doing this to me? You’re mine, you've always been mine.

“You're mine and you'll always be mine."

"I've always loved you and I'll always love you."

"I'm so sorry."

She didn't even know who she was. She sees the hurt in Harry's eyes. She hated to see him like that, but she didn't know how to fix it.

"I'm not R-Reagen.", y/n cries, shaking her head. "Harry I'm sorry, I-I'm not Reagen. I'm y/n."

Harry closes his eyes, looking away. "You are Reagen. Y-You have no idea what I've been through in these five years. I..I'm done, I can't anymore."

She didn't understand anything. "H-Harry, I-I don't know anything..I don't know..", she cries. She wanted to cry into his chest, wanted him to pull her into his safe arms and console her. Tell her it was all just a bad dream.

A man walks up to Harry with a tray. It had a few rings, a chain and a few cigarattes. Harry takes the rings and puts them on his fingers. H and S.

Harry Styles.

He put on the chain, it had a silver cross pendant, much like the cross tattoo he had on his hand. He took the cigarette last, keeping it between his lips. The other man puts the lighter to it, and Harry takes a blow.

"Your time is up, Reagen. Four weeks is over.", Romania says, taking a step towards her.

"You bloody bitch, you did this to me-" She raised her hand to slap her, and someone grabs her wrists, pinning it to her back, and she yelps in pain as the person behind her kicks her behind the knee, making her drop to her knees.

"Don't make it worse for you.", she hears in ear and recognizes the voice. "S-Sania?”

Was she in on it too? The person she thought was her best friend? What were these people going to do to her?

Harry turns back to her, and pulls out the small velvet box.

"You already saw what's in this, right?", he asks her, and she sniffles. "It was for you.", he says, and crouches down to her. He opens the box, showing her the beautiful ring he had bought for Reagen, five years ago. "You ruined everything for what? Why did you try to kill me? You have one final chance to remember and spit out the truth. I have been so patient, but a man runs out of patience."

She sobs, shaking her head. She tried to remember, she only got glimpses of her dream. She didn't know anything else.

"Harry, please believe me, I-I don't know anything.", she whispers, and he throws away the ring and the box.

"Don't do this to me, Reagen.", he said in his deep voice, coming closer to her and she gasped, trying to pull her head back but Sania grabbed her hair. "Don't move.”, she snarls in her ear.

She was shaking. She was terrified. y/n didn't even trust her own thoughts at this point. She was going to die. If she was Reagen, they were going to kill her. That was what Romania told her, if Harry didn't remember, we would have to kill him. They were fooling her by mentioning Harry, it was herself they were talking about.

She feels her heart shatter as she identifies the man who gets out of the wide sedan. He wore an expensive black suit, his beard was trimmed, hair was kept. He stood tall and straight, not at all looking sick and frail.

"U-Uncle Luke..", y/n looks at the person she thought was her Uncle Luke. He gives her a sad smile. "I tried to warn you, darling."

“You know, while I was making tea yesterday, I put in salt instead of sugar?"

"Oh god. That must have tasted horrible."

"My point is, y/n, don't trust everything you see or hear. You can't even differentiate salt from sugar if you don't look carefully."

He knew everything. Sania knew everything. Everyone she ever knew in her life was involved in this game, or whatever this was.

She was the clown.

"Y-You're all fucking evil.", she says in spite, and groans when she feels Sania’s grip on her hair tighten.

"Sania, step away.", Harry snaps at her, crouching down, and she immediately releases her, making her fall into Harry's arms. "She's mine to ruin."

"Harry, please..", y/n whispers to him. Why did she think that Harry could save her from this?

"You think I wanted it to end this way?", Harry asks her, holding her face and brushing her hair back with his gentle fingers. "I tried everything for it not to."

She sobs in his arms, and he reaches a hand to his back pocket, pulling out something. A gun. y/n shook with fear as he moved his other hand to the back of her head, holding her there as he pressed the gun to her forehead. The cold metal of the gun grazed her skin.

"You should know what it feels like to be betrayed by people you love.", Harry whispers. "Everyone told me to let it go, to kill you and bury you and forget that you ever existed. But I refused to believe it. I didn't want to believe that you were just a traitor. But I guess I was wrong, I've failed."

She closes her eyes as the gun presses into her head. "H-Harry.."

"Friends also betray you.", he grumbles.

"Have you been betrayed by a friend or a close one?", y/n asks.

"I don't remember.", he snaps, motioning for the bartender to fill up his drink.

This is how she's going to die. One shot to the head. She would be shot to death by the person whom she thought she loved. Her whole life was a lie. y/n didn't know how to feel. She didn't know her own identity. She felt lost in this world. She was already dead inside, he might as well just pull the trigger and end her misery. There was nothing she cared about anymore. She wasn't even sure if her name was y/n.

Was she really Reagen?

y/n waited for the sound of the gun when it cracked open her skull. Would death hurt?

No, she didn't think anything could hurt her more than everything she's just been through. Her heart was already bleeding and her brain was fried.

Harry couldn't pull the trigger. As he saw her shaking in front of him, tears running down her cheeks, escaping her closed eyelids and despite everything she's done to him in the past, despite her trying to kill him, Harry couldn't even hurt her. Then how could he kill her?

He pushed her away with a grunt, and y/n falls on the ground, bruising her elbows on the sand.

"Harry.", Romania says in a warning tone.

"Get her inside.", Harry gets up and turns away from her.

Romania and Sania look at each other at Harry's mood change.

"Want me to kill her for you boss?", one of the men asks.

"No.", Harry's voice was deep and clear, like anyone who dared to question him would be dead in one second.

"Harry, we agreed on this. You cannot fall for her stupid act, did you forget what she's capable of?", Romania grabs his arm as he starts to walk away.

"I know very well, Pelt. Do you have a problem following directions? Get her inside the car, Oliver. Take her with you.", he looks at the man standing with Luke. y/n thought Oliver was the only one giving her a sympathetic look. But she couldn't believe that either. He probably didn't care about her.

Oliver nods, going to y/n.

Romania gives the others a look behind Harry's back as he walks to the white sedan parked for him.

"Can we have our way with her back in the quarters? She might confess something-”

y/n shrinks into herself as she hears the shot. Harry had shot the man who said that, straight in his heart. He falls with a thud, blood oozing out of his chest. No one dared to speak again, or go close to the fallen man.

"New recruitment?", Harry looks at Romanina who nods. "You're getting sloppy. Another one like that and the bullet will be through your head."

"I'm sorry.", she mumbles, embarrassed and looking down at her feet.

"Get up.", Oliver grabs y/n's arm and pulls her up. She watches as Luke opens the door for Harry and he gets in. Everyone else starts getting into their cars too.

"Hands behind your back.", Oliver tells y/n, and she doesn't protest. She had seen enough. He kept her wrists together behind her back, and handcuffed them. "Walk.", he nods to one of the only two cars left.

"Keep a hand on her Olie, she'll make a run for it.", she hears Sania. y/n was going to open her mouth to tell her something in a very colorful language, but Oliver beats her to it.

"Enough Sania, clean that up.", Oliver grumbles to her, pointing to the dead body.

"Of course, I get all the dirty work.", Sania sighs, and waves to the two men remaining. "You heard the man."

Oliver opens the door for her, and ushers her inside his suv. "Don't try anything.", he warns, warm brown eyes looking into hers. One side of y/n's face was covered in sand, her bruise had opened up and was bleeding lightly again. Her head was pounding and her knees were aching.

"Do you think I can?", she scoffs, uncomfortable with the handcuffs. "Can you take it off?"

"No.", he simply says, classic Oliver.

She sighs as he slams the door and goes to the driver's seat. y/n looks outside at the unfamiliar streets. She had to be living in a dream, or an illusion. This couldn't be true.

Every time she thought about Harry, her chest burned. The hurt in his eyes was real, the sadness in his eyes as he begged her to remember was real. She knew that wasn't part of the act. Why would she ever try to kill him? She closes her eyes, trying to go back to the bits she remembered from the dream.

The blood, the broken windows, the gun shot. It hurt too much to think about the last four weeks. No, scratch that, her whole life. Now she wondered how long she was living in that play? Was it her whole life really? Or was it five years? Was it lesser than that?

Oliver looks at her from the rear view mirror. "Stop crying, it's not going to help and it's annoying."

y/n stares at him. "Nothing's going to help, so let me at least cry before you're going to kill me."

"You won't be killed if you remember what happened and tell Harry what he needs to know.", Oliver mumbles, eyes back on the road.

"I'm curious to know too, I'll let you know when it strikes.", she mutters, sniffling. Oliver sighs. "Sorry. For the acting."

"Fuck you."

He cracked a smile to her surprise. Oliver had the ability to smile?

"Enjoying my misery? You're all a bunch of sadists.", she tells him.

"I smiled because that sounded like the Reagen I know.", Oliver explains.

She remembers the emotion in his voice on their first morning. When he told her to bring his best friend back.

"You were my best friend? Not Harry's?", she asks, and he nods.

"Then why are you doing this to me, Oliver?"

Oliver doesn't answer immediately, he takes a deep breath. "What did I do? I never lied to you, neither did Hans. I said I want my best friend back, and that was about you. Too bad you didn't understand. And now, I'm just following Harry's orders. I have to."

"Why?"

"I owe him, he saved someone I love.", Oliver grumbles. "He's a bastard. We had a deal, and I can't do anything but listen to him. I liked you, you were the only one who understood me and you tried to help me."

"You know things.", y/n says, studying his face. "Do you know why I tried to kill Harry?"

"I'm not sure, but you did talk to me the night before that.", Oliver says. "You were angry. You never told me what was wrong, but you sounded strange. I remember. You were scared."

His eyes meet mine. "And Reagan never got scared."

"E-Everything you told me about Reagen and Harry..it's true?"

"Yes.", Oliver nods. "You were there for him when he was lost, you taught him a lot of things, Reagen. He's a dick, but I don't think he'll ever put your life on line. He didn't want to be the best, he didn't want to lead the gang. He was forced to, after your accident. He liked being the secret weapon. He looked up to you. So I have no idea why you wanted to kill him. You could have been blackmailed. I don't know, you have to remember that."

"I-I remember glimpses of the fight, but nothing more, Oliver.", she whispers. "I really can't."

"It'll come back, it has to.", Oliver takes a sharp left to wherever they were going. "You have time. Harry's not gonna kill you..yet."

"That's very reassuring.", she says sarcastically. "Where are you taking me now?"

"I'm following the car in front of me, but I think we're going to Marco's. One of the gang's um..let's say inside source. Harry has some information."

"Is he going to kill me there?"

"No.", Oliver smiles. "He's too emotional right now to make a decision, he'll take some time."

"S-Sania and Unc-", she cuts herself off. "Luke. They're your people?"

"Yes. He isn't really your uncle."

“And Hans? Is he also mean like Romania and Sania?”

“No. You were like a sister to Hans. He’s holding the fort down at the headquarters right now.”

Oliver pulls up with the other cars and jumps out to open your door. "Sorry about the handcuffs, they're all too scared of you. Reagen can still kill all of us and get the hell out of here if she decides to, handcuffs or not.", Oliver tells her as he looks at her.

"Are you telling me to try and make a run for it?"

"Not now."

Not now?

"Bring her out Oliver.", she hears Romania's poison-filled voice.

"Get out.", Oliver yanks on her arm roughly, and she whimpers as he pulls her out of the car. Romania was giving her a disgusting look. She was jealous, y/n confirms. She probably loved Harry but he clearly hated her.

Some of the men immediately filed on the sides, guns drawn out and eyes on her back, like they were waiting for her to make a move.

"All those for me?", she whispers to Oliver.

"Reagen would need more.", he whispers back, and clears his throat when Sania joins her other side. "How was the ride?", she asks.

"You fucking bitch, don’t talk to me.", she says through gritted teeth and Sania chuckles. "You thought I was the easy one, huh? I played my part the best, Olie here couldn't even look at you."

"You don't know shit, Sania.", he said back. Sania just grins, and they enter a big house. It was like a palace. y/n sees a massive pool right in the front. She would have loved to take a dip, under normal circumstances. She saw Harry marching up first, into the house. The other men again stand in two lines beside them.

"Why are you dragging me inside?", she asks Oliver.

"Quiet.", he said in return and she rolled her eyes. Sania stood outside. Romania went in behind Harry, Oliver by her side as they walked in too.

Harry was already sitting on the big white couch, talking to another man. He was shirtless, his big belly resting on top of white pants. He had a woman by his side. She was just in a lacy black bra and thongs. She sat next to him, hand rubbing up and down his arm.

Gross, y/n thought.

"Nice to see you again, Romania, Oliver. Oh my god, is that who I think it is?", the man looks at her with a gasp, his Mexican accent thick.

"Harry, you didn't tell me! Reagen Jones, it's been a while.", the man says to her with a big smile. She couldn't bother to smile back.

"She lost her memory.", Romania explains to him with an apologetic smile.

"Oh! I thought you can finally pick up your business now that Reagen's back. You know she's the real backbone Harry.", he tells Harry who swirls the drink around in his glass. "You're all roughed up Reagen dear, why is she in cuffs?"

"She's a threat to everyone until she remembers things.", Harry answers.

"I've rumors that you tried to kill Harry. You're the woman, Reagen.", Marco tells you with a grin.

"Wouldn't that be convenient for you.", Harry leans forward. "Why did you call us here?"

"I had a lead for you, on Tony.", Marco says.

"Where is he?", Harry asks, taking a puff from his cigarette. His shirt sleeves had been rolled back so his tattooed arms were visible.

"He's in Italy, here’s the exact location.", Marco passes him a piece of paper. Harry takes a look at it, smirks and hands it to Romania. "What do you think Romania?”

"Give me one minute to cross check, Boss." Romania pulls her phone out.

"Cross check what? It is the right address!", Marco said, and y/n could make out a little panic in his voice.

"Yes, it’s the same one.", Romania tells Harry and Harry laughs, making Marco frown. "You already knew?"

"You think you're so clever, don't you?", Harry asks. "I found out that you switched to Tony's side when he offered you a better deal. To spy on us. You think you can outsmart me?"

Marco gave him a sly smile, but there was a bit of fear behind it. "I don't know what you're talking about, Styles."

"Sure you don't. I know what's waiting for me if I believe you and go to find Tony. They've sprung a big trap there for me. My men have already checked it all out. Nice try of killing me, but you knew better than to try, Marco.", Harry snarls.

Marco chuckles, patting the girl's thigh and she gets up, going inside. "You're already dead inside, Harry. I hoped that you would end in the accident, I wasn't happy to hear that you survived. But then I got to know that you weren't the same. You died the day that Reagen betrayed you."

Harry moved, sleek as a panther as he grabbed the knife the girl was using to slice up the apples, and he moved behind Marco, arm wrapping around his head in a headlock, as the other hand held the knife to his throat. "You do talk a lot, Marco. That's what always got you into trouble. Do you know what we do to traitors?"

Harry looks straight at y/n, and she watches in horror as Harry stabs the knife in his throat. He didn't so much as flinch. Harry's eyes burned into hers, and she imagined herself being in Marco's place.

Marco's men immediately pointed guns at Harry.

"Drop your weapons or you'll all have the same fate as poor Marco here.", Romania orders. She, Sania and Oliver pulled out their guns too.

Harry breaks eye contact with y/n finally, pushing Marco down from the couch so he falls on the floor, red coating the white tiles. He was dead. Harry storms out, looking like a lion who just had his prey.

y/n flinches as shots are fired, and Oliver ducks her head down, quickly pulling her outside. He drags her back to the car. Harry was washing his blood stained hands.

"Stay here.", Oliver tells her, leaning her against the car. He went to talk to Harry, giving him a towel to wipe his hands. Harry nods and says something to him before getting in his car.

He was a monster.

y/n saw him kill two people in less than two hours. This was the same man who cuddled her when she had a nightmare, kissed her ever so sweetly, made love with her, treated her injury and held an umbrella for her so she wouldn't get wet in the rain.

He looked so fierce, and so angry, he could do anything. Only a matter of time before he slices her own throat. She wasn't very scared though. Maybe death will treat her better.

She remains quiet as Oliver drives her somewhere else. The sky was painted in hues as the sun set. She leaned her head on the window and shut her tired eyes.

"Reagen! Stop it!", she hears Harry as she pushes him to the wall. Harry had a cut on his cheek, blood flowing down from his skin. "Why are you doing this? We have gold in our car, Reagen, we have to go. Why are you fighting me?"

"Shut up!" She punches him square in the jaw. Harry groans, bringing a hand to his nose. "Fuck. What happened? Did someone tell you something about me?"

Harry still didn't make a move as she kneed his abdomen, making him bend over with pain. "I-I trusted you Harry.", she whispers, tears falling out of her eyes. Another kick to his stomach makes him fall on his knees. "You're j-just a liar."

"I never lied to you about anything baby please-" His head falls to the side as she punches his jaw.

"I-I have to kill you, Harry.", she whispers, taking her gun out and pointing it at him.

"You h-have to?", Harry looks up at her, blood oozing out of his nose and his lips, but his eyes held hope. "That means someone is forcing you, isn't it? Reagen, we'll take them down. Who are you doing this for? I'm y-your partner, why would you kill me?"

She lets out a sob, pressing the gun to his throat as she kneels down to his height. "S-Stop talking."

"Put away the gun Reagen.", Harry whispers, taking her hands with his shaking ones. "I-It's okay, I've got you."

"I-I trusted you.", she repeats, and before she could pull the trigger, Harry flips her so she lies on the ground, and he disarms her gun, twisting her hands behind her back. "I didn't do anything, Reagen, please. Stop whatever you're doing."

"Let me go!", she screams, and Harry pushes her head down further, applying pressure to her lower back. "Not until you tell me what this is about. Who’s threatening you darling?”

"W-We're gonna die if we don't get out of here.", she strains out.

"What do you mean?"

"T-There's going to be an explosion, to kill you.", she cries, not being able to do it. She couldn’t just lead him to his death.

"Fuck.", Harry curses, and gets up, pulling her up. "Let's get out of here."

"N-No, I can't. You have to d-die or t-they'll.." She pushes Harry to the small stall, she was supposed to get him inside it.

"They'll what? Reagen, please. We'll figure it out. You don't want to do this.", Harry resists, and she gets dragged with him to the stall. There were people going after the gold in their car, she could hear them arguing and shots being fired.

"I love you, I'll kill whoever’s making you do this, sunshine, let's get out of here.", Harry croaks as she pushes his collar towards the entrance of the small stall.

"I-It's too late Harry, I'm sorry-"

Everything blew up. The bomb went off and everything went black.

__________________________________________

Taglist: @harrydeary, @harryswifee, @harrysbxtchh, @gracelovesethan

Let me know if you want me to add your names to my tag list! There will be a last chapter to Traitor-The Present and that's going to keep you at the edge of your seats as you read it. Please ask away if you have any questions about this fic, or anything else, I'd love to talk to you guys. Thanks for reading!

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s0urw00lf · 3 months ago

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Hii, I would like to request a Derek Morgan angst/fluff imagine

Like she sees him with another women and thinks he’s with that women and she’s heartbroken. So her and Spencer (because why would Spence miss out on messing with Derek) come up with a plan to make him jealous. So she and spencer pretend to be together, yk hugging each other and being touchy when everyone is around and so Derek finally confronts her like “so when we’re you going to tell me about you and spencer.” You can make up the rest but that’s basically it!

Two can play that game

Pairing: Derek Morgan x reader, Spencer Reid x platonic!reader

Summary: Derek cant keep himself from seeing other women (or so you thought) so with the help of spence you give him a taste of his own medicine

Warning: Derek is a man whore, Spencer is a sweetheart, the literal tiniest bit of angst.

AN: whoever requested this I love you. When I read your request I was so excited to start it.

You knew Derek Morgan was a… lady’s man, to put it lightly, which is why he made it so easy for you to fall for him. He was good-looking and a natural flirt but also a protective sweetheart who cared more about the people he loved than anything else. So when he walked into the BAU headquarters with a pretty woman at his side your heart nearly dropped. It wasn’t one of his sisters or his mother so who was she? They seemed to be in a pretty serious conversation, one that you couldn’t hear.

The two of you had been more involved than not, but you weren’t dating much to your dismay, so that meant technically he could still lay with any woman he wanted to and you guess he did.

You hadn’t realized you were staring until a hand waved in front of your face. “You okay?” You looked up to see Spencer holding a coffee in his hand, you’d forgotten that you asked him to make you one when he went to make his. “Do you know her?” You asked nodding your head to where Derek and the unknown lady stood. He looked over tilting his head. “I can't say I do no” he replied with a frown. He turned back to you “Why did something happen?” He asked. You sighed leaning back in your chair and grabbing your coffee from his hand as you did so.

Spencer wasn’t good at social cues, but it didn’t take a lot for him to see that you were jealous, the way you intently watched Derek and the mystery woman with creased brows and an unmistakable frown that only made its way to your face when the situation involved Derek. “Are you jealous?” Spencer asks quietly, tilting his head in question. You almost choked on your coffee at the question. “Sorry, what?” You quickly asked, clearing your throat. “No, I'm not I'm just… curious” you finished with a tight-lipped smile. “Oh she’s jealous,” Penelope spoke from behind you.

You whipped your head towards her “Seriously pen?” You hissed. She shrugged while sipping her coffee “Not like you're trying to hide it, even Reid picked up on it” she said with a playful smirk, gesturing to the curly-headed man standing next to you, he looked offended at the statement. “Okay so what, maybe I'm the tiniest bit jealous.” You muttered, looking back at Derek and the woman. “So, make him jealous,” Penelope said, dragging out the ‘so’. “And how do you suppose I do that?” You asked, leaning back in your chair. “Very simply, use Spencer,” she said casually.

Both you and Spencer turned toward her, “Think about it, as much as he wouldn’t admit it, Spencer is kinda like his best friend, other than me obviously. And there’s no doubt he's attracted to you” she said. You thought about it, looking at Spencer who shrugged “I don't mind” he said. So you nodded, agreeing to her plan. Penelope squealed in excitement, “This is so going to backfire on me but if it means you two finally get together I am completely okay with that” she said. Just then, Pen's face dropped and she urgently whispered “he's coming, Spencer be natural and not so well… you.” She said before scurrying off in her hot pink kitten heels.

Derek approached you and Spencer, eyeing the scurrying blonde, “what was that about” he asked with a raised eyebrow pointing to Penelope’s office. You and Spencer looked at each other and shrugged “No idea” Spencer answered. Derek didn’t look convinced but decided against saying anything. Then Spencer placed an arm over your shoulder, “We should get to work, I'll see you later hmm?” He asked, you were surprised at how naturally it came out but didn’t let it show. Smiling you nodded with a quiet ‘yeah’ playing into your part. Derek's brows raised even more at the interaction, he didn’t seem pleased with it. “Wanna tell me what that was about?” He asked, tone a little deeper than usual.

You held back a smirk and let a confused look consume your features “What?” You asked. He pointed between you and Spencer who had just sat down at his desk “There something goin’ on between you two” he asked skeptically. You huffed a laugh “C’mon Derek you know better than that” you said purposefully sounding unconvincing. His expression hardened, giving you and Spencer a look before walking off.

Penelope's plan was officially in action and you and Spencer were playing your parts perfectly. As the day progressed the two of you got more and more into it. Hugging, whispering, even going as far as holding hands. And it went on for days, the team could feel the tension radiating between the three of you.

“I don't think I can do this much longer, he looks like he wants to murder me every time he lays his eyes on me” Spencer whispered to you as he walked you to your desk. You laughed “I can see that, don't worry he'll break soon. I can feel it,” you said, and even right there, and then you could feel Derek’s glare from his desk.

Derek's final straw had been when the team got a new case and instead of sitting in your usual spot, you sat next to decided to sit with Spencer. So when you landed Hotch assigned you and Derek the task of talking to the victim's parents. The tension in the car was unmistakable. You were holding your breath, waiting for the moment he decided to say something. You didn’t have to wait very long because about three minutes into the car ride he started “So something is going on with you and Reid” he said with an even tone. “No, I told you that already” you replied, matching his tone. he scoffed “So this past week with the giggling, hugging, and secrets, you're still telling me nothing is going on” he pushed. You smiled “If I didn’t know any better Derek Morgan I'd say you sound a little jealous,” you said teasingly. He took his sunglasses off, keeping his eyes focused on the road “I just want to know the truth” he sighed.

You frowned slightly. “Derek nothing going on between Spencer and I,” you told him honestly. “But,” you said, making him tense. You tried not to let him see the smile growing on your face “We did exceed our plan” you laughed. His face morphed into confusion “What are you talking about?” He asked “Well… we kinda came up with a plan to make you jealous and it worked very well,” you said dragging out the ‘well’. He looked as if he was processing the information before he let out a laugh “So you mean to tell me this whole week has been a big joke” he asked. You nodded, humming a ‘mhm’ with a smirk. “Oh y’all play dirty,” he said. You laughed even louder “Oh yes we do” you confirmed. He nodded “Alright I'll give it to you, but what made you do it anyway?” He asked. Your smile dropped at his question “You're a profiler, I'm sure you can figure it out” you said, turning to look at him.

You watched the gears turning in his head, and then you could see the answer dawned on him. “This about last Tuesday?” He questioned. You nodded “Right in the net Derek Morgan” you answered. “Now it was his turn to laugh “Baby girl, you tellin’ me you did all this because of my cousin?” He asked. You frowned in confusion turning your whole body to face him. “Cousin? That’s who she was?” You asked. He laughed, giving you a nod “Yes she was arranging for a family dinner, wouldn’t leave ‘till she had a date to set” he clarified. Your face burned and you wished you could crawl out of your skin. “I thought you slept with her.” You muttered embarrassed. He laughed extra loud at this “You should know there ain’t nobody else for me but you miss thing” he smiled.

“I- you-“ you stuttered but he cut you off “I’ve been waiting for the right time to ask you,” he said. You sighed, sinking into your seat. He stopped in the driveway of the victim's home and grabbed your hand “Come on, pretty mama let me see that pretty face” he teased. You sat up looking at him “How about this, after this case is over I'll take you on a date and we can go from there.” He said. You nodded in agreement he smiled giving you a quick pack on the lips. “Now come on mama, let's go talk to these parents,” he said exiting the car.

#s0urw00lf #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #spencer reid fluff #derek morgan fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert

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purplesoulcollection · 1 month ago

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Hello, I really like your fanfic about Suho😊🤩😘. I imagine Suho accidentally catching Reader, who is free falling in the air. They don't remember anything about their past. Suho will have to learn how to take care of someone who doesn't even have an ID and there is no missing person news or missing case. The police are also stumped by Reader's case.

Hello, anonym, I tried my very best to fulfill your request. Hope you enjoyed it.

Fallen Angel?!

Aargh--

There was a faint sound that seemed to come from nowhere.

It was the kind of sound that was easy to overlook, too indistinct to pinpoint, so most people simply ignored it because they think it's just an illusion

But Suho caught it—the echo of a scream that felt distant and unstable But he can't pinpoint where did that sound come from the sound echoed faintly in his ears.

Beru, who was with him, also noticed it, his senses heightened at the thought of an impending confrontation.

Suho scanned his surroundings, finding nothing unusual, until he finally glanced up at the sky. That’s when he saw her—a woman plummeting from above, with no tall buildings around to indicate where she might have fallen from.

There was no time to being surprised and ponder how she ended up there; if Suho didn’t act fast, she would hit the ground hard, with no way to soften her fall.

Suho didn't hesitate for a moment as he dashed to save the woman, who was plummeting faster due to the pull of gravity. In his panic, he completely forgot about the Monarch's authority and his own abilities.

With a loud thud, Suho managed to catch her, his body jolting from the sudden weight and force of the fall. Thankfully, he held on tight, letting out a sigh of relief as he realized he hadn’t let her slip away.

If my reflexes hadn’t been quick, I wouldn’t have been able to catch her at all.

Gently, Suho placed the woman on the ground. She was unconscious now, despite having screamed just moments before. Perhaps the shock of her near-death experience had taken its toll.

I was left with a burning curiosity about what had happened to her without nobody I can asked. I can I can rub my hair in annoyance, don't know what to do with this sudden incident.

I analyze the girl appearance further. The beautiful woman had long hair and wore a simple shirt and pants, showing no visible injuries. At first glance, she appeared perfectly normal, but Suho sensed something was off.

He realized that something wasn’t right. With no tall buildings around, there were only two explanations: she had either flown through the sky or had been dropped from above.

"Young master, I believe that she part of itarim, an ordinary human being cannot possibly fall from the sky without knowing where she fell from." Beru wisely tried to persuade Suho that the woman was dangerous and should be killed immediately before causing trouble to his young master.

Suho pondered the possibility that what Beru was said might actually be true.

Beru had a point; ordinary humans typically wouldn’t encounter bizarre occurrences like this, even in a world where dungeons could appear unpredictably.

For an average person lacking special abilities, the worst fate would be to get pulled into a dungeon and perish without a chance to escape. However, falling from the sky certainly indicated that this woman was mixed up in something questionable.

He realized why Beru suggest to kill this woman; there was a desire to protect him from any potential danger, as his responsibility was to accompany and safeguard him on his father's orders, who was far away fighting.

Yet, Suho couldn’t bring himself to do what Beru say, His human sense does not allow that, harm an innocent person who had fainted from shock simply because he suspected she might be connected to Itarim is unacceptable.

He was resolved to grow stronger so he could reunite with his parents, but he also didn’t want to resort to senseless violence against those who were uninvolved.

"No Beru, I won't kill her just because your suspicions. We have to bring her to the hospital to check her condition. Even though he doesn't have any wounds, it's possible the wounds are internal."

He picked her up again in princess style and ignored Beru's protests until he circled around Suho.

Even if she was really part of the itarim, he should at least save this woman's life for interrogation.

It seemed to validate Beru's concerns. The woman's identity remained unverified.

She lacked any personal identification in Korea's advanced system, and there were no missing person reports that matched her description from the internet.

This left Suho feeling overwhelmed; he even reached out to his uncle Yoo Jinho for assistance in allowing the woman to receive treatment without needing to establish her identity.

The risk was significant if it became known that the woman had no identity here. Suho and her could face arrest and deportation without any warning. Indeed, if someone have a connection with powerful people, it can make things easier for the shady things too.

Now, all Suho and Beru could do was wait for the woman to wake up to answer their questions whether she like it or not.

The doctor said that she's fine, but he have to analyze more deeply once she wakes up to see any illness that only appear once she awakes.

Suho was restless, tapping his feet in a display of impatience, while Beru shot disapproving glances at the woman. He was uneasy about leaving potential threats unaddressed, but the young master had made his choice, and all he could do was comply.

As time passed, Suho's anxiety grew when the woman remained unresponsive, despite the doctor assuring them she was fine.

Could he really leave her alone in the hospital? Should he head home and just hope she wouldn’t wake up before he returned?

Perhaps fate was on his side, nudging her back from the depths of unconsciousness.

Both Suho and Beru noticed the woman stirring when her finger twitched, prompting them to ring for the doctor.

The doctor arrived promptly, conducting a thorough examination that included checking her eyes, asking questions, and performing responsiveness tests—leaving Suho and Beru puzzled by the process.

After completing the tests, the doctor approached Suho with a concerned look. "Mr. Suho, we believe the woman you brought in may be suffering from amnesia. She seems unable to recall any events from her life." Suho felt a jolt of shock at the doctor's revelation.

Amnesia?! A mysterious condition that could conveniently obscure someone's past identity. He never imagined he would find himself in such a predicament.

The doctor departed after advising Suho not to pressure the woman into remembering anything and to allow her to remain calm. Suho merely nodded, his attention fixed on the woman, who appeared lost in thought, nobody knows what in her mind.

"Do you even know your name atleast?" Suho's voice emerged slowly, momentarily shattering the silence. The woman, who had been lost in thought, finally turned her gaze toward him for the first time.

Her eyes, filled with confusion, reflected her struggle to process the question Suho had just posed, though she remained silent.

Impatiently, Suho drummed his fingers, eager for a response, but ultimately, she shook her head, signaling her lack of knowledge.

Watching her confused expression and the way she shook her head left Suho feeling uneasy and drained. He took a deep breath, knowing that the challenges ahead would be tough.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave this woman, whose identity remained a mystery. The chance that she could be an adversary loomed large. It was up to Suho to keep a watchful eye on her.

"Do you want me to pick a temporary name for you, or would you like to choose one yourself until you can recall something from your past?"

He didn't want to call her this woman all the time, at least if this woman remembered her name, it would make his life a little easier.

Instead of answering, the woman just stared at me, looking puzzled as if she thought I was joking. "Don't you recognize me? Aren't you the one who brought me here?"

"I only brought you here because I found you unconscious. I don’t know you at all."

"Then why not choose a name for me? I'm not sure if the name I come up with will suit me."

"You may have lost your memory, but you still remember that you might not pick a good name?"

"It's just a gut feeling…" The woman turned her gaze away, embarrassed by her struggle to think of a suitable name for herself.

Suho pondered over a fitting name for her. She was a woman with an unknown age and identity, and he didn’t know her well enough to determine if she was part of itarim or not.

However, as an art student, Suho understood that a name plays a significant role in shaping a person's identity, so he took the time to think of a beautiful and appropriate name for her.

"...Name, do you like that name?"

She looks surprised with that name. Her eyes widened and her breath caught, as if I had struck a chord. I noticed the person flinch, scratching at the smooth skin marred by a wound. A nervous sound escaped her lips, leaving me uncertain if I had truly guessed her name.

"I like it. Name, huh?" Those were her first words since waking, her voice raspy from sleep. Perhaps that was why she had been silent at first. I offered her some water and reassured her that I would look after her.

"Suho, help me!" A cry that has echoed in my mind countless times since I chose to care for someone who lost her memory.

Whenever I see her in distress, she ends up shattering something I just cleaned. Perhaps she meant to lend a hand, but it always results in an accident.

This same person, whom I decided to look after, has indeed brought chaos into my life, just as I had anticipated.

I can't tell if she was always this way before her memory loss, but it seems she is quite careless. I have no idea what her life was like before we crossed paths.

When I first welcomed her into my home, her actions turned my home upside down, testing my patience to the limit. It's hard to believe that someone so beautiful struggles to take care of herself.

Honestly, I've grown accustomed to tidying up my own space because the harsh teaching from my parents, unlike my friends, who can be just as messy as she is, but of course less careless as her antics. So when i see her mess, i became more sensitive to it.

I could only tell her to leave the rest to me, and she ran away quickly avoiding my babbling which I was already tired of doing. It's faster if I do it without talking.

I've actually reached the stage where I doubt that she's part of Itarim because she's so careless and she doesn't show any suspicious signs. Maybe she only the ordinary people who was caught in a certain situation that caused her to fall from the sky.

I want to believe from my bottom heart that she's not the worst, that I should fight with. I only hoping that Name is a good person so that we can have good relationship and maybe become closer…

Because even when I mad at her antics to destroy my home, she still accompany me like now, she think she hide herself but i can still see her, peeping with guilty face. I don't feel lonely in this wide home again when my parents being missing and leaving me alone.

Even Beru can't understand this lonely. Because he'll left me once my father call him, to nowhere I don't know.

"Name, do you want to go outside?"

Nama's expression, which had been filled with guilt, instantly transformed into one of joy. Her eyes widened in surprise as he realized I was speaking to him.

"Can I go outside?" she asked, moving closer to me, his excitement palpable after being cooped up for so long since his hospital release.

I nodded; Nama wasn’t a prisoner who needed to be confined all the time. She just had to be cautious about not being discovered without an identity in this world.

"Come with me. I'll take you for a stroll," I said, and his face lit up with a smile.

"That sounds perfect! You have to take me somewhere nice, Suho," she exclaimed joyfully before heading to his room to change into the clothes I had ordered for her online.

Soon, we made our way to the mall and eventually strolled through a park that wasn’t too crowded. Seeing several small children playing together and adults also walking around like us created an indescribably peaceful scene.

I’m really eager to paint this scene, but sadly, I forgot to bring my supplies.

"This is for you," the name rings a bell. I glanced at Nama, puzzled, until I noticed what she was offering.

A drawing book and a pencil. Where did she bring those?

"Suho wanted to draw it, right? Your hands always seem to move when you want to create something. Plus, you’re always painting, so I thought you might need this," she explained to me and i take it.

"But you didn’t bring any paint?" My question made Nama hesitate as she rummaged through her bag, which I assumed held my drawing book earlier.

With a hint of sadness, she looked at me and asked, "Do you need some? You usually just use a pencil, don’t you?"

Seeing her worried expression made me laugh; she really thought I was in trouble. "Just kidding! A pencil is all I need." I waved my pencil dramatically before focusing on capturing the scene.

My pencil danced across the page, creating a sketch until I finally completed it.

"Is it not done yet?" Nama asked, eyeing the unfinished sketch.

"I’ve just made a rough draft; I’ll polish it up at home. If I finish it here, I might not get it done tonight…"

As we walked home, I still had my doubts about Nama’s true identity. I want to believe that her name isn’t tied to Itarim and that I can genuinely like her, but that’s depends in the future that will happen.

For now, i will try to enjoy this company...

The End

Do you like it, whoever request this fic?

#fanfic #x reader #manhwa #manhwa x reader #fem reader #reader insert #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling ragnarok #sung suho #oneshot #solo leveling

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unreliablesnake · 2 years ago

Text

Territorial (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You meet your old high school crush and can't help but tell Vincent about it. But he's certainly not happy to hear this story.

Note: Takes place after my other Vincent fics, but you don't need to read them. / I wrote it in like an hour with breaks and it shows. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Warnings: smut (fingering) so MINORS DNI!!!

“Imagine my surprise when I found out it was him! He changed so much throughout the years. He was never the type to wear suits.”

You were laughing, excited that someone from your years in high school showed up in your life again. It was a nice surprise; you used to be on good terms with him, maybe even had a crush that stayed with you in the back of your mind. And now you were working in the same office building, so the two of you were already making plans to have lunch together in the following days.

“He’s been working there for almost as long as I do. How is it that we haven’t met yet? What are the chances?” you asked your boyfriend before taking another bite of your dinner.

But Vincent remained silent, his jaw tightening as you kept talking about your old friend. It took you some minutes to finally realize he didn’t want to hear about any of this. You shut your mouth the moment it dawned on you, and bit on your lower lip as you looked down at your plate guiltily, as if you had done something wrong.

“Are you done?” he asked with a frown, and after a few moments of thinking, you nodded. “I haven’t seen you this excited about a friend before, love. Or was he more than just a friend? Do I have a reason to worry?”

You gulped loudly upon hearing his question. He could see right through you as always, he knew about your crush without you saying anything about it. Too bad that to him it didn’t matter if you still had any feelings for that guy or not. You once had and that was enough for him to get mad at you.

Because he was mad, you knew that. It wasn’t jealousy, it was pure anger that he felt times like this. Every time a guy looked at you the wrong way, every time you dared to be nice to another man, Vincent got angry and took it out on you.

Of course, he would never hit you. Sure, he would spank you, maybe even choke you a little, but all of this would happen in the safety of your bedroom. He would never seriously think about hurting you, he loved you too much for that.

Or so you thought.

Now there was a glint in his green eyes, something you had never seen before. It was pure rage, fueled by your story about this old flame. “He’s just a friend, I promise,” you tried weakly, but despite being sure you loved only him, your thin voice made even you question if it was true.

He suddenly put down his fork and knife, took a sip of his wine–his eyes never leaving yours–then stood up and extended his hand to help you up. With your legs already shaking, you took his hand and stood up as well. For the first time in a while, you had absolutely no idea what he was about to do. Was it really that bad that you were so excited about meeting an old friend?

His fingers wrapped around yours tightly enough to make you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying out loud. You followed him across the rooms obediently, not asking him what he was planning to do now.

Once you stepped inside the bedroom, he slammed in the door and pulled you into a hungry, demanding kiss. You tried to push him away a little to breathe, but he only put his hand on the base of your skull and pulled you even closer. This was a first; he had never been this aggressive before, but now he seemed desperate to show you who you belonged to.

His hands were quick to remove your clothes when he finally let you breathe, fingers exploring every single curve of your body as if he had never seen you naked before. Then they moved between your legs, expert fingers slipping between your folds which drew a pathetic moan out of you, making you weak in the knees.

“Who do you belong to, hm?” he asked you before kissing you again. “Tell me, love, do you remember where you belong?”

“I belong to you,” you replied weakly as you put your hands on his chest to steady yourself. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot, and it was hard to keep yourself together by now. “I’m so sorry,” you added.

While his fingers were pumping at a steady pace, chasing you towards your first high, Vincent looked you in the eye and tilted his head to the side a little. “Good girl. Never forget this,” he warned you darkly.

Your first orgasm made you collapse into his arms, but he didn't seem to mind, it only made him more determined to overstimulate you. By now you knew what this was all about. He wanted to mark his territory, showing you how good he was for you, how perfectly you fit together.

Jealous Vincent wasn't new. He was rough and focused on his own needs, using you as a simple fleshlight. But territorial Vincent was someone you hadn't met before. He wasn't controlled by his anger; he was driven by something else, as if he was desperately trying to prove to you that he was the only one who had a place in your heart.

It wasn't unusual for him to focus on your needs, but this was different. You couldn't quite put a finger on what the difference was, but you could feel it in your bones that something wasn't the same.

He kept calling you a good girl, telling you how badly he needed you, how you belonged to him, and how the two of you were brought together by fate. He was almost too sentimental, something he barely was with you. If you didn't know any better, you would have assumed he was worried about losing you.

“What's wrong?” you asked when you were lying in bed with you resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him.

But he remained silent, the only reaction was the way his grip on your hip tightened. Just when you were about to give up, he suddenly spoke up. “I want you to keep your distance with him. Lunches on weekdays are okay, but I don't want you to meet outside of that building. Can you promise me that?”

You thought about it, but it was a fair request. So you nodded, agreeing while also hoping for a change of his heart in the future. If that was enough to make him feel better, you were willing to do it for now. After all, you didn't want to ruin your engagement so soon.

#vincent de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #vincent de gramont #marquis vincent de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #john wick #john wick 4 #john wick chapter 4 #i actually had a guy from high school working on the same building like eight out nine years ago #we met on the tram by total accident like three times in row and it turned out he worked on the floor below is for almost as long as i did #we didn't keep in touch though

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majinbangus · 2 months ago

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Majin~ idk if my original ask sent so I'm gonna send it again just in case, Tumblr must find my asks delicious bc they get eaten like 85% of the time 🥲

Hello! Idk it you're taking requests now, or if you've already done this prompt/theme before, but I was wondering what it'd be like to be one of the many people Johnny flirts with on base, and you brush it off bc he's such a flirt. And yes, while Johnny will flirt with just about anyone bc thats his default setting, he's low-key going out of his mind bc he wants you to see that with you, it's different! It's genuine and sincere! What will it take for you to realize that the only person he's got a huge crush on is you?

Idk just wanted to see this from your perspective! No worries if you don't feel like writing anything for this, still love ya!! 😘

hey anon, sorry for the wait, getting my groove back slowly, but here it is. i might do another version of this some other time tho bc i had another vision for it but ended up with this

You don't know why he's been so affectionate with you lately. His playful flirting has gotten excessive, too. It's weird. He's being weird.

It's not like you dislike the attention, but you know he doesn't mean anything by it. That's just how he is. You know you're firmly designated as ‘friend’ in his eyes. A painful fact you've known ever since he made that comment to his ex about never seeing you in a different light because you ‘weren't his type.’

Yeah, that stung a bit, and you were a little offended, but that was more ego talking and less romantic feelings at the time.

Unfortunately, things have changed. Feelings have changed. Yours, specifically.

You don't quite remember when exactly it happened, but you know it was sometime during the last few months of his last relationship. That was an agonizing time, and over a year since the end of that relationship plus several flings later, you're still pathetically pining over a man who will never see you as anything more than a friend because quote ‘he could never be attracted to someone who wasn’t his type’ unquote.

Now, you have to put on a smile and pretend it doesn't make your heart malfunction whenever he flashes that dimpled smile at you, or when he rests an arm over your shoulder while he walks next to you calling you all sorts of pet names he's never called you before. Not to mention all the times he feeds you a piece of his lunch, and when he grabs your wrist and makes you feed him. That barely scratches the surface of his newfound behavior around you.

Soap has never shown you more flirtation than the usual shallow amount he gives to anyone he's not dating. To be bathed in it out of nowhere is a shock to your system. An enigma you can't comprehend, nor are you eager to question it lest you lose his sudden affection. And despite the delusional part of you wishing he meant something by it, deep down you know it's simply false hope making you imagine the romantic adoration reflecting in those pretty ocean blues of his.

“–so what do you say?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You blink a few times, trying to force yourself to focus on Soap and not how bright his eyes are, or how warm his body feels pressed up against yours with his arm slung around your shoulder. He's so close, it's making your heart do fireworks.

“I asked if you wanna meet up next time we're on leave? We rarely hang out outside of work and drinks at the pub.”

“I can't.” It's not that you don't want to, but you don't really see the logic behind it, either. “One, we don’t live remotely close to each other, and two, I have family coming to visit.”

Soap laughs at your excuses, tightening his arm and pulling you impossibly closer. “That just means I can meet them, love! I've been meaning to sight see where you’re from anyway!”

It's your turn to bark out an incredulous laugh. “Sight see what? Soap, the city I live in is shit.”

“Och, can't be that bad if the locals are half as lovely as you, darlin’.”

“That was terrible!” You giggle, nearly doubling over at his cheesy flirtation, but despite yourself, you can't stop the fluttering in your heart, hoping he doesn't realize how much you actually like his attention and stupid charming words, or how you can barely share the same space with him without feeling like your chest is going to burst, or the obvious hearts in your eyes every time you look at him. “Please tell me you use better lines than that!”

Soap pays no mind to your laughter with that lopsided smile on his lips. He stares at you with those stupid, pretty blue eyes, strong arm still around you almost as if he's staking some kind of claim on you, like a leash or collar. You wish that was the case. You'd give anything to be marked as his.

“They seemed to work for me so far.”

“Oh, really?”

“Aye.”

“Psh, then save the cheese for someone you want.”

“What if I want you?”

“What?” He sounds so earnest you have to stop a moment, shrugging off his arm, and turning to face him. Soap doesn’t flinch, staring back at you with such intensity you laugh uncomfortably to ease the growing tension in your chest. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Soap. You almost got me.”

“I’m being serious. I want you.”

“Since when?”

It’s a genuine question. You’re not playing dumb intentionally–well, maybe a little–but after so long of pining after him, this is something you need him to spell out for you. Even then, a part of you is ready to laugh off whatever he says next.

Because what you have with Soap doesn’t go any deeper than a close friendship. It never has and never will be anything more than that. Even when you want it to be more, you know he’d never love someone like you.

“Soap?” You tilt your head at him when he doesn’t answer. His smile has dropped and he’s looking at you with that cute frown of his you’ve always loved. The one when he’s deep in thought, doing all sorts of calculations or analysis on whatever has him stumped.

“I don’t know how I can be any clearer, hen.” He talks slowly. Low and soft as if in disbelief. “Thought I’ve been obvious with my flirtin.”

“We ‘flirt’ all the time!” You laugh, trying to deflect the growing hope you feel. “We’re friends, Soap. Stop messing with me! Besides, I know I’m not your type.”

Surprisingly, he sounds offended when he asks, “Where’d you get that idea?”

“What, that I’m not your type? You said it.”

“When?”

“When you were with what’s-her-face? The crazy possessive instagram model.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’, that always stuck with me, so thanks for that.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

You give a derisive laugh. “Then why’d you say it?”

“She was insecure.” Soap furrows his brows in regret, running a hand through his mohawk. “I thought I liked her at the time, so I said it to make her feel better. She didn't like you.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” You mutter bitterly. “I respected boundaries, and she always thought I was trying to ‘steal you from her.’”

Soap mumbles under his breath, “Don’t think I would have complained if you did.”

“What was that?”

“Nothin’, bon.” He sighs, the tension falling out of his shoulders before he squares them again, staring at you in a way that makes your breath catch. “Listen. I know it might be hard to believe, but I’m not takin’ the piss. If you give me the chance, let me prove how serious I am about you.”

“Soap…”

“Darlin’...”

Fuck. A flash of those blue eyes and you can feel yourself hope. Would it really hurt to give in? Just this once? Maybe, maybe not.

Sighing, you inwardly scold yourself knowing you’re jumping headfirst into the unknown, but…

“Fine. One chance.”

Soap’s never broken that trust before, and from the grin on his face, it tells you he’ll always be there to catch you.

“One chance is all I need.”

#bangus answers #anon #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soapy thoughts :]

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uplatterme · 2 years ago

Text

Just a sample or two, I’m sure you’ll manage.

—sub!dottore/dom!reader, zandik!dottore, transmasc!reader (this is mostly dottore!receiving so no mention of the reader’s genitalia, but it’s still implied reader is transmasc), masochistic!dottore/sadistic!reader | imagined knifeplay (cuts), overstimulation, crying, degradation, slight dumbification, slight blood play, pain kink, unnegotiated kinks but everything is consensual (idk about safe or sane though because it’s dottore)

—i don’t know how to feel about this fic tbh. but it’s here. it’s okay. (edit: i reread it and its quite good)

Zandik knocks over the cup of coffee on his desk when he hears his door getting banged on. He swears that whoever is outside that door is going to get it, he’ll tear them apart into shreds and feed their body to the tigers…

With an annoyed face, Zandik opens up the door, ready to “politely” tell them to get the hell out of his face. The words are already on the tip of his tongue but he rests easy when he recognizes that it's only you, his next-door neighbor.

He quickly tries to remember if his room is a mess. Fuck, he did do laundry a while back, yeah? Does his room smell good? Is his bed fixed?

He panics, why are you even here?

He thinks all of that within three seconds.

“Zandik! I hope I'm not bothering you?” You stand outside his door, bearing that smile he somehow can’t say no to.

“You’re fine, come in.” He says as cool as he can, you’re the only person in your darshan that he can get along with. Hell, you’re the only person in the Akademiya he can tolerate.

“So, uhm.” You start, you’re carrying your bag so he assumes you just came from a class.

“Yes?”

“I have a favor to ask.”

He doesn’t miss the way you seem to be dancing around the topic. It’s not as if he cares what that favor is, if you ask him to kill a person for you then he’d do it, no questions asked.

“Spit it out then.”

You sigh, sitting down on his bed.

“You know I'm a scholar of Amurta.”

“Of course, you never fail to not bring it up every time I ask you about the subject of human anatomy.” He states, as if that wasn’t obvious already.

“I may need a…sample of sorts.”

Oh, that’s an easy fix. Were you too shy to ask for his blood? That’s strangely endearing.

“How much?” Zandik asks.

“Well, a cup? Maybe two so I don't mess up.” You quickly answer, you appear to be surprised at his immediate response.

“For blood? That seems quite a lot.” Zandik questions, it’s not that he won’t give you it, he’s just a bit confused.

“Not that…”

“What is it then?”

He hears you whisper something and Zandik swears that his ears are fucking with him.

“…Say that again?”

“Seminal Fluid?”

He's stunned for a bit. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it back once he discerns that that’s not the proper response to this situation.

“C-Can’t you do it yourself?” He asks, looking away from you.

Despite his wanting to be with you romantically, you two have never engaged in any of the sort. The most you’ve done is the slight brushing of your hands when working on an experiment.

“Zandik, you know I can't.”

He almost asks again why that is when he realizes.

“Oh.”

He blushes furiously and to your perspective, this might look strange. But when he hears you tearing up someone’s guts next door past bedtime hours, it’s hard not to imagine himself being the one who’s in your partner’s position.

In other words, he’s dreamed too much of being dicked down by you that he forgot about your case to begin with, not that it really matters to him.

And he would never admit to this, but sometimes the noises get a bit too loud for comfort that he has to take care of himself alone while he visualizes you doing that to him.

He hears you cough, standing up and trying to walk away from this whole thing as if nothing ever happened.

“You know what, I'll leave. I’ll find someone else.”

It is an embarrassing situation, this was not a scene that he had expected and prepared for.

“W-Wait,” He calls out, his hand grasping your wrist.

“Zandik, you don’t have to. I’ll just pay someone else to do it.” You explained to him that it really isn’t that big of a deal. “I think I came here because you’re my go-to person.” You chuckle.

Zandik really wants to cuss you out, you can’t just say that to him out of nowhere and then decide to leave right after.

He stammers out a response, “I-I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

It’s just silence for a few seconds until you decide to leave him be to do his business, telling him that you’ll just be next door and to take as much time as he needs.

And when the door slams in front of his face, is when he realizes the severity of his decision.

You’re telling him he’s supposed to jack off while knowing that you’re aware he’s doing exactly that?

Zandik unbuckles his belt, deciding that he might as well get this over with as soon as possible.

Then thirty minutes pass by.

Zandik has not filled a cup, nor is he even halfway to a climax. He tries to think of everything. Well, everything but you, imagining things that would turn him on that aren't you or fantasies that involve you.

He somehow finds this task to be difficult.

His cock is sitting on his leg half-hard, he’s racking his brain to find something that will make this easier and he soon realizes that every single time he’s masturbated somehow involved you in some kind of way.

He doesn’t want to believe that at all, surely not.

Is he really that into you?

He reminisces of each time you’ve been with him, the times when you lay an arm on his shoulder, pulling him closer to you without notice. The times when you whisper directly into his ear in the library that sends the poor man into a shock with how he feels your breathing on his neck, wanting you to lay those lips on his skin, to just mark him without care while trying not to get caught by the other students passing by your table.

Zandik whimpers just at the thought of it. He snaps out of his thoughts once he notices that he’s fully hard now, with precum even oozing out his dick.

He plays with the white liquid, he relishes the fact that you’re able to affect him like this when you’re not even here, to begin with. He grits his teeth, warming the tip with his palm, the stickiness making Zandik slightly quiver from how messy it is.

His control over his own thoughts and body is slowly starting to slip, his hips moving on their own as his cock longs for the warmth of his hand. He stifles back a moan, thinking about you has his mind going dumb.

He wonders if you know about these feelings of his, the way he has to excuse himself each instance your touches linger on for too long, his entire body stiffening as a pathetic noise tries to escape his throat.

“Haah…”

He wants to stay quiet, knowing that the walls are quite thin and that if he can hear you from back then, so is the opposite.

He breathes impatiently. This isn’t enough at all, he needs more.

Zandik wants to know how it would feel to have you explore his entire body, to have you see every vein and how his blood flows throughout his skin. He knows you’d grow fascinated by him, like you would with any cadaver.

His head tilts back at the thought of you slicing him open, drawing cuts with a scalpel on his thighs as he bleeds, the wounds aching as your tongue licks them oh so slowly. His cock twitches, the stroking of his length getting more and more desperate.

He grows weak as he envisions you squeezing them as you penetrate him, spreading him apart without any preparation whatsoever. He sobs at that, he needs you to put him into his place, to shame him for thinking such disgusting things. To treat him as nothing more than trash, that he’s a whore for enjoying these kinds of acts.

His left hand grips the sheets for stability, the other continuing to pump himself until he spills. His vision blurs from both the pleasure and the tears, almost forgetting about the reason why he’s doing this to begin with, too high of his lust for you.

He stumbles over, aiming for the cups you’ve given him.

Zandik moans loudly as he finishes, not all of his fluid gets into the containers. In fact, most of it splattered all over his bed and his legs. He waits until he stops cumming, panting heavily as sweat drips off his forehead.

It’s worrying how much of a pull you have toward him.

He sits there for a few minutes, resting easy until he hears knocking on the door.

“Y-Yeah?” He calls out from his bed, too tired to stand up.

“Are you done?”

Zandik immediately rushes to the door, taking his blanket with him to cover his lower half.

He opens the door with a slight shake of his hand, openly oblivious to how he looks right now to you.

His hair is a mess, his face…

He looks as if he’s in a daze, and he is, for the most part. There are traces of tears from his wet eyelashes, eyes staring at you as if he’s begging for you to take a bite out of him, to fuck him right then and there.

He looks so pitiful and vulnerable, an appearance that you’ve never seen of him, an appearance that he’d never show others, an appearance that he’d only show to you.

His legs are bare, the blanket doing nothing to hide the shape of his hips. There’s cum dripping down his legs and you knew you should have knocked later. But once you heard your friend sound like that, your urges got the best of you.

You’re sure glad you didn’t stop yourself.

“R-Right…You need it warm, yes?” Zandik says, embarrassed at what he’s just done and thought of while he got himself off.

“Yeah…” You answer, mind focused on his figure instead of what you initially came here for.

He hands you the containers you’ve given him, the liquid splashing.

“Thank you, Zandik.”

“Of course, anytime…” He replies.

You could just leave, pretend as if you didn’t hear him earlier or those other times he’s fucked himself alone while moaning out your name, distracting you even if you were in bed with another.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

You know he’s into you, and the gods know you’d be lying if you claimed you weren’t turned on by Zandik right now.

The next few moments are a blur and Zandik is unsure how he’s ended up at a loss for words, his legs being spread apart by your hands as he’s forced to bear the shame of you seeing him already so stiffened despite just cumming a few minutes ago.

“So soaked…”

“S-Sorry…” He apologizes, trying to look away.

Zandik blushes at the fact he hasn’t trimmed there in a while.

“Cute.”

His heart beats loudly in his chest, unsure of how to process this whole thing.

He’s not complaining at all, no. He’s just surprised at how you’re being so forward with him like this, not sure whether to take this as a one-time thing or if there’s something more to your actions.

“What would you like me to do?” You question.

That’s a loaded question. What doesn’t he want you to do?

Everything, he wants to say. He wants to be greedy. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen for so long, it’d be a waste to just be shy and act like this.

Still, thinking that is easier than actually doing it.

“T-Touch me, please.”

“How? Won’t you show me how you do it, Zandik?”

He nods shyly, bringing his hand to his cock. He’s much more sensitive now than before since he’s just had his orgasm. He ponders on what lay behind those eyes of yours, staring him down intensely as he tries to focus on himself.

It doesn’t take much for him to be hard, especially with how your hands feel on his thighs. It’s shameful to see himself leaking so much already, a lot quicker than when he did this alone earlier.

His hips convulse while he strokes himself, “Aren’t you eager?” You ask him, but that just makes him whine impatiently.

This is a lot tamer than he had imagined but that doesn’t erase the satisfaction that he’s getting right now.

“I might cum…” He simply says, still keeping at the same pace.

“Are you asking for permission?”

Zandik whimpers out softly, nodding his head at your question.

“Do you think you deserve it?”

Does he? He thinks he does, but what if you don’t think the same way? A loud gasp escapes him, he can’t hold it for much longer. Tears start to form again from his ducts, a sobbing mess who just wants to please you as much as he can.

Chants of your name and pleading continue, yet it won’t seem like you’re taking that as an answer.

A sudden pain shocks his entire body when he feels your nails digging down his thighs. Each second is a nightmare, your nails going deeper and deeper as blood drips down to his sides, staining the sheets of his bed.

God, that feels so fucking good.

“H-Hurts…” He says.

“Yeah? Maybe, If you answer my question, I’ll let you go.” You continue pressing on the newmade wounds, raising a moan out of him.

“I-I don't know…”

“Ah, but Zandik. Aren’t you the smart one?”

He sobs, he’s supposed to agree with you but doesn’t find it in his mind to do so right now. “Please—can’t hold it.”

You continue to stare at him in silence, even as Zandik loses control, apologizing repeatedly for finishing with your say.

His thighs twitch every few seconds, his eyelids getting heavier when he tries to focus on the fact that you’re still on top of him.

“My, I’m still here you know?”

You make that perfectly clear when you shove your fingers into his gaping mouth, the taste of his own cum and blood makes him gag, yet you continue to push your fingers down his throat. He slobbers all over them, yet he takes it with no resistance. He wants you to go even deeper, to ruin his throat.

Eventually, you pull away. The sound that comes out of him is hoarse, yet he still stares at you with loving eyes.

“Want you.” Zandik begs,

“Prove it, darling.”

#plattered writings #dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #il dottore x reader #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #dom reader #sub dottore #dom!reader #sub!dottore

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onceuponastory · 9 months ago

Text

twelve minutes - bucky barnes x reader

But for now we stay so far 'Til our lonely limbs collide I can't keep you in these arms So I'll keep you in my mind - you and i by PVRIS

Plot: Almost a year after their breakup, Y/N sees Bucky Barnes again. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (past) Warnings: Mentions of a breakup and heartbreak, angst without a happy ending. Bucky being a shitty boyfriend. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know! Notes: So You and I by PVRIS, one of my favourite songs ever, turned 8 on Friday, and I had to write another fic for it to celebrate (please ignore I'm a few days late) so here we are!

Not beta'd, so any mistakes are my own.

One night, Y/N stands outside the Avengers tower in the cold New York air. A chilly wind blows, and she shivers. She can still hear the party inside, the muffled music and laughter. Maybe she should just go inside? Isn't that better than being out here, alone and in the cold?

But just as she’s about to turn back, she shakes her head. She didn’t even want to come tonight. Although the Avengers are still her friends, a party attended by her ex, Bucky Barnes, was not the ideal way to spend her night. But Natasha whined and begged for her to come, promising her she’d have a good time and it wouldn’t be that awkward. Unfortunately, it was just as awkward as Y/N expected. In fact, it was worse.

Sure, people still spoke to her, but she could tell they all had one question on their lips, one she was not willing to answer: "So, when are you and Bucky getting back together?"

And so, Y/N left. She types on her phone, ordering an Uber to take her home. Sighing, she wraps her jacket around herself as another chilly wind blows. Soon, she’ll be home and can eat her sorrows in ice cream.

“Leaving so soon?” A familiar voice asks. One that Y/N was hoping not to hear tonight.

“Hey Bucky.” He looks different from the last time she saw him, almost a year ago, now. Just over ten months, in fact. Not that she’s counting or anything. He’s bulkier, no doubt an effect of Steve’s constant early morning runs. Each time he left their bed, he promised to come back, kissing her cheek softly. Even now, her skin tingles just thinking about it. Bucky smiles, brushing some of his longer hair out of his face.

He looks good.

He looks great, actually. She can’t deny it - he still looks as attractive ever. Deep down, something registers in her gut. It’s a strong, passionate longing feeling, the same one she used to have whenever she thought of Bucky. One that she thought disappeared a long time ago. But seeing him now is reigniting that feeling. Desperately, she tries to bury it.

“Good to see you again.” He murmurs, a sign that he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. After all, how often do you run into your ex at a party you didn’t even want to go to? “Nat never said you were coming.” He looks around, a brow raised. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours? She said he’s a lawyer.” Of course she fucking did. She’s going to kill her next time she sees her. “Can’t imagine he’d pass up a moment to spend time with you.”

“We um. We broke up. Well, he dumped me for his secretary, actually. So… yeah.” She’s immediately embarrassed, not meaning to spill her heartbreak to anyone, let alone Bucky fucking Barnes, her ex of all people. Honestly, part of her reasoning for coming tonight and hopefully dragging Harry along with her was to make Bucky jealous, show him that their breakup wasn’t affecting her that badly.

And look how well that turned out.

But her wounds are still raw. Perhaps, after suppressing her feelings for so long, she simply needed to release and express her frustration and pain to someone. And Bucky just happens to be the one she’s letting it out to, the welcome respite she’s needed for so long. That's how things used to be between them. Whenever something was wrong, Y/N and Bucky relied on each other for comfort. They would spend hours in each other’s arms, talking about their problems until they felt better. Y/N still aches for that comforting grasp, even now.

But now, things are different. Including her and Bucky.

Especially her and Bucky.

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He sighs. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay.” She lies, but knows that if she dwells on it too long, she’ll start sobbing in front of him. Her chest tightens in an all too familiar way. This is what people like Bucky Barnes do. They come into your life and leave a mark. Once they’re gone, you work so hard to heal yourself and make a new life, and then they come back in and destroy everything all over again. And she won’t put herself through that again.

“Looking back on it now, we just weren’t a good fit. Or at least, he didn’t like me as much as I liked him.” The heat on her cheeks deepens, as if she’s embarrassed to admit falling in love with and getting her heart broken by someone like her ex. To admit that she subjected herself to so much pain and heartbreak yet again. But thankfully, Bucky doesn’t mention it.

“Honestly, it’s his loss. You deserve better.”

“Thanks.” And again, silence envelops them. She wonders if he’ll start talking about their breakup, or continue ignoring the enormous elephant in the room. And honestly…. she doesn’t know which she’d rather have. To lay everything out in the open, or just ignore it all again, pretending everything is fine. When her eyes drift back to him, he’s not looking at her anymore, and despite how angry she was at Bucky for what happened, and how much she likes to kid herself that she doesn’t care about Bucky anymore, it still stings.

Deep down, she wants him to want her, like she wants him. To still want her, even now.

“Can we talk?” He asks suddenly. She already hates the idea of being forced to spend time with another ex so soon after losing another relationship, but there’s not much else she can do. And honestly…. She misses Bucky a lot.

“Sure. You have….” she peers down at her phone screen, the light illuminating the space. “Twelve minutes.” Bucky raises a brow.

“Twelve? That’s very… specific.” He chuckles awkwardly. Y/N doesn’t laugh.

“It’s how long until my Uber arrives.”

“Oh.” There’s disappointment lacing his tone, which Y/N picks up on. She stares at him, waiting for his response. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened between us.”

“Okay. Me too.” She nods. Bucky raises a brow.

“...That’s it? Y-You’re not going to say anything?”

“What can I say? You said that you’re sorry for how it ended, and so am I.” She shrugs. “There’s no point in beating ourselves up, Bucky. We just never worked out. You were always too busy, and after a while I just stopped waiting for you. The fights got too much, and we just stopped loving one another.” Honestly, she never stopped loving him. But it’s better to lie and tell him that the feeling is mutual than waste all her tears on someone who actually stopped loving her. She stopped being important to him and was no longer the key priority in his life. Missions were his priority, followed by dinners, drinks, and world trips with teammates - things she stopped being invited to. As an Avenger, he can't refuse to save the world, but she thought she mattered to him. Realising she didn't hurt her deeply.

So one day, she decided enough was enough, and… it was over. And she’s missed him terribly since then.

“You really think I stopped loving you?” Bucky frowns. There’s a strange mix of guilt and accusation in his tone. Y/N nods. “Well, I didn’t. I never stopped.”

Y/N gasps, and his revelation makes her heart pound. What if this is a good sign? A chance for them to make things right? “I thought you did. I thought you stopped caring.” For a moment, she wonders how he’ll react, if he’ll take her into his arms again, and whisper sweet nothings. Maybe they’ll finally make things right.

Instead, he turns defensive. “I didn’t. And it’s not all my fault, you know. I did try to make it home to you, but you didn’t understand how busy I was sometimes.” He snaps, sending a fresh strike of pain through her already damaged heart and destroying all hope she ever had of them rekindling their relationship..

“You had a funny way of showing it.” She retorts, rolling her eyes. Anger flows through her veins, overtaking her last shred of guilt. Why is it her who has to fix things first? To be the villain, the one who has to admit that they’re in the wrong? Angry and bitter tears sting at her eyes. “But yeah, whatever. It’s my fault our relationship fell apart.”

Immediately, Bucky regrets his words. “Look, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.” He hates that this is what they’ve come to now, unable to speak to one another without anger, bitterness and hurt feelings. But maybe this is a chance to make things right? A whole twelve…well, probably ten minutes, now. “And I’m sorry if it seemed I wasn’t trying hard enough. I loved you a lot.” He sighs. “I still do.”

“I never stopped either.” She admits, and Bucky’s eyes widen.

“Really?” He gasps. “W-Well, do you wanna get a drink somewhere? Or some dinner?”

“Wait.” She raises a hand, cutting him off. She sighs. “Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow? I’ll wait. We can go whenever you want.” He urges. But Y/N just can’t ignore the feeling deep inside her, of guilt and apprehension. What if she lets him back in and it happens all over again? If she gives him all of her heart and gets it back broken, yet again? She’s already been through two heartbreaks in this lifetime, and she can’t go through that pain again.

Especially not one caused by Bucky.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She whispers, biting her bottom lip. Bucky frowns, confused.

“What do you mean? W-Why not?”

“Because I can’t do this again.” She whimpers, her voice cracking. “Our break up destroyed me, and I’ve just been through another one. Another break up between us would actually finish me off.” She shakes her head. “Maybe one day we can talk…but not now.”

Bucky opens his mouth, ready to speak. But he nods. “I understand.” He sighs. He keeps his gaze on her, his blue eyes imploring and hopeful. Suddenly, the sound of an engine approaches. Y/N sighs. “Guess my twelve minutes are up.” Bucky chuckles nervously.

“Goodnight Bucky.” She says, getting into the car and closing the door. He watches her go, looking crestfallen. She looks out of the window, locking eyes with him.

“You okay?” The driver asks. “Need a minute?” Y/N’s heart aches, and her chest aches.

“No.” she murmurs. “You can keep driving.” And then they pull away, and Bucky fades into the distance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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luminouslywriting · 6 months ago

Note

How do you think the guys would react when one of their friends starts dating their sister? Like maybe she read in a letter that their buddy wasn’t getting any and decided to take matters into her own hands and strike up a pen pal-ship with them that becomes serious…

Imagine coming home from war and your baby sister runs straight past you to jump your buddy who she can’t possibly know

DeMarco?? As a brother? And Brady? As a lover?? I can see it now. LISTEN, I have thoughts under the cut, so buckle up kiddos haha! Reminder that my requests are definitely open and I don't mind spam :)

Cut for length, more under the cut, some light occasional spice haha:

-It doesn't mean to happen??? Like actually though?? Benny mentions in one of his letters home that a friend of his does not have a girlfriend and is feeling a little lonely at times

-And you, being the angel that you are, just take matters into your own hands

-So imagine Brady's surprise the week before he goes down in the Stalag to receiving a letter signed Y/N DeMarco

-There he is, going about his day, trying to get training in, and just minding his own business, and mail call comes and he has a letter?? He doesn't recognize the return address and he's a little baffled. But he's not about to turn down mail.

-So he opens it up and starts reading and it's this very sweet letter explaining that your brother mentioned he had a friend who didn't have anyone writing him and you were just going to fix that for Brady :)

-John Brady is many things—including flattered—but he's also like WTF?? Like where did this person come from, how old are you (is this allowed lol), and maybe it'll be nice to have a friend??

-So he writes you a letter back with these questions included and he fully means to mention it to DeMarco

-It's just that DeMarco goes down on a mission with Gale Cleven and there's nothing he can do about that

-And then HE goes down on a mission with Bucky Egan

-He honestly forgets all about it until letters to the Stalag start to arrive

-The thing about this entire situation is that he likes having a little something to himself? It's hard to get privacy and anything that's really 'yours' in the Stalag, and so these letters become an escape and a safe place for him

-He relies on your good humor and stories to get him through the day and all the while, he's falling in love with the person that you are without ever having seen you

-And it's the exact same situation for you

-Brady isn't stupid though, he burns all of the letters that you send him so that the Germans can't use anything against him when it comes to you

-So by the time that they switch Stalags again and again and he hasn't gotten a letter in months, he's already decided that he's in love with you and is going to ask you to marry him

-The only problem in this foolproof little plan of his is a short king with a dog named Benny DeMarco who will be absolutely furious about the turn of events that he has not been clued in on for over a year and a half

-So he figures that it's probably best to just....not mention anything until he sees you??

-LOL SIR NO

-But anyways, the war ends and the boys get to go home

-And Benny DeMarco is having a GREAT day. He's ready to see his family, his beloved little sister, eat some good chow, and sleep in an actual bed.

-He's fully prepared for the tears on the train platform and everything else

-What he's not prepared for is to see you run PAST him and jump into the arms of none other than Captain John Brady

^Actual footage of Benny DeMarco, seconds after seeing you and Brady kissing at the train station^

-So yes, he's baffled, bamboozled, shocked, dismayed, BETRAYED and majorly confused

-But after a whole sit down conversation about the letters and everything, he's super jazzed to be getting Brady as a brother in law and he's actually pretty happy about the whole thing

-But he absolutely turns to the younger siblings that you both have and warns them to never do something like this lol

-And yes, there may have been a fist fight that you heard about later between Brady and DeMarco, but it was never really that serious....just a protective older brother making sure Brady was good enough for you lol

#mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #ladies who brady #john brady headcanons #john brady x reader #john brady #benny demarco #benny demarco headcanons

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clarisse0o · 3 months ago

Text

Camp Wiegman-Part 55

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Wednesday, February 17; 9:15 AM - Ski Resort

I still find it hard to believe what we're about to do today. The days are passing, and we're already halfway through our trip. Me, a sun-loving girl who's only ever been to beaches, is now discovering a ski resort for the first time. Ever since I heard the news, I've had a lump in my throat. I just can't wrap my head around it.

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it?” Mapi asks me, standing by my side.

I take a deep breath. Thankfully, in the worst scenarios, my best friend is always there to face things with me.

"It’s up to you to feel it. Are you still in a lot of pain?” I ask, referring to her leg.

“It depends on the day... I hope it’ll be okay.”

“Have you talked to Ingrid about it?”

“Yeah, we had a chance to talk. She knows I don’t like to bring it up, but she knows what happened.”

“Then you don’t need to worry. I’m sure she’ll be careful.”

“You think so?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “From what I’ve seen these past few days, she seems attentive to you. I have no doubt she’ll know when to stop you if you push too hard.”

“Blah, blah, blah.”

We laugh, fully aware that this is exactly what will happen. Mapi loves challenges, and once she’s conquered them, she tends to not want to stop. I understand her fear, though. Skiing puts a lot of strain on your legs. She’ll likely feel pain at some point, even with the effective treatment she’s been on for years. Skiing... Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps. I’m not at all comfortable with this idea, especially after our last two nights. The waitress Aitana flirted with invited us to some private parties. The first one was quite wild for some, and we got back late. We didn’t want to do much the next day. Most of us stayed at the hotel to relax, while the two other couples and I preferred to head back into town. We went out again last night, but it was much more low-key. The girls didn’t want to waste another day doing nothing. They had used their day at the hotel to look into things to do. The ski resort was their top recommendation. When they suggested it to us, I was the only one not very enthusiastic. I tend to enjoy walking in the snow in different ways, but I realize that’s not everyone’s preference. The girls were starting to lose patience and really wanted to do something more dynamic. This activity was definitely a lot more energetic than the previous ones. The weather was on our side, with the snow having stopped today, so it was the perfect time to plan sledding and skiing. The last time I was in a place like this, I must have been six years old. My mom wasn’t a fan of mountain vacations, being someone who had always lived in the sun. We went once thanks to my dad, who granted my wish. Those were the most memorable holidays for me because it was the first time I ever went sledding. However, I never skied, and the same goes for Mapi, who, unlike me, is seeing snow for the first time after her first visit to Manchester. We were supposed to go sledding this morning, but because of our little handicap, our girlfriends, who are currently ahead of us, decided to change the plan for the four of us. Since Mapi hadn’t changed her behavior, I thought it was a good opportunity for just the two of us. I needed to talk to her. I could sense something was bothering her, and I didn’t like it. I tried sending Alexia in my place, but she couldn’t get much out of her. Either Mapi didn’t understand her intention, or I was really imagining things, which I doubt.

“So, can I ask you a question?” she starts again. “But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?”

“Why would I take it the wrong way?”

“It’s about Lucy.”

The mention catches me off guard. Is she trying to talk about it? The timing couldn’t be better. At least we can clear the air before today’s activities because we both know there’s some tension.

“I’m listening.”

“Promise me you won’t take it the wrong way?” she insists.

“Mapi, we’ve always told each other everything up until now. Why would you be afraid of my reaction?”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax. Her behavior towards me over the past two days remains a mystery. The way she kept pulling me away from Lucy left me puzzled and annoyed. I started wondering if she had a problem with her, and now I’m starting to believe it more and more. I hope it’s nothing serious. I don’t particularly want them to stop talking, or worse, have to choose between the two.

“So why didn’t you come talk to me yourself? You sent Alexia, didn’t you? I’m not that clueless.”

I bite my lip, caught off guard. Alexia had warned me that it would be better if I went myself, but I didn’t listen. Now, I’m already regretting that bad decision.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, you’re right.”

“So, you really sent her?”

“I could tell you were on edge. I was afraid it would get worse if I came first.”

We look at each other for a moment, then laugh together. We both feel a bit silly, I think. There’s good reason for it. We’ve never been afraid to tell each other things. That’s what I’ve always loved about Mapi. Even if we knew it wouldn’t please the other, we’ve always been honest.

“Sorry, I was really nervous about bringing it up.”

“You didn’t need to be,” I sigh. “So... it’s about Lucy, right?”

“Yeah, um...” she starts, suddenly feeling awkward. “I don’t really know how to say this. First, does she still hold a grudge against me?”

“What?” I frown. “No! Why would she have something against you?”

I look at my girlfriend who’s ahead of us with Ingrid. We’ve slowed down our walk since we started talking, creating a bigger gap than before. They’re both in an animated conversation, laughing from time to time. I think about all the ways Lucy could have made her think that, but nothing comes to mind. She did give her a bit of a hard look the day she pulled me away from her during the walk, but that passed quickly when she found it amusing that I was angrier than she was. Anyway, since we’ve been together, it’s different. She no longer sees Mapi as a threat, but simply as someone very important to me.

“Well, I don’t know... I felt like she was giving me dirty looks last time. Sorry, I might be imagining things.”

“Lucy has no problem with you, I assure you. She really likes you and knows what you mean to me. If it were otherwise, she would have told me, and I would have fixed things.”

“Okay...” she murmurs. “You love her, don’t you? I’ve never seen you so attached to someone like her.”

I breathe softly. Oh yes, I love her, and I spend all my time glued to her. I was never that person before, but she made me this way. In none of my previous relationships did I seek physical contact as I do now.

“Does it bother you?”

She looks at me for a moment. I can see the internal struggle she’s having. She doesn’t know how to respond, and it’s all the more unsettling. I give her a friendly nudge.

“Come on, spill it. We’re talking about it for a reason, after all.”

“I was very surprised,” she begins. “I think your Valentine’s Day made me jealous. Not romantically. Ingrid is wonderful to me, and I appreciate her more and more each day,” she quickly justifies. “But in terms of us, our relationship, our friendship...”

Now that she says it, it’s true that after I shared everything we did, her behavior changed. I frown at this realization. Without saying anything, she continues.

“I never knew how to give you the same things she does. Just look at the day you spent together. It’s obvious she thought of you first in her plans. I’ve never been able to do that for you. Not even for a day.”

“Mapi—”

“I know our relationship is different from yours. It was powerful in another way, and it was during another period. We were younger and a bit more carefree. But what she’s done with you in just a few months is just... impressive. She’s transformed you, and I feel lousy for not being able to give you the same support and help you grow like she has.”

Regret, remorse. That’s all I hear in her words, and now it’s my turn to feel bad. How did she get to the point of feeling so worthless? She doesn’t even realize how much she’s helped me. Her return after Feli sparked a lot of progress that she doesn’t seem to have noticed. I release my lip from between my teeth and reply without thinking.

“You have nothing to blame yourself for. You’re the one who gave me the most support before I joined this school. You did the hardest part by getting me out of my room.”

I smile just remembering it. She had to drag me, but she did it, and she stayed with me the whole time. It was her, and no one else, who accomplished that feat.

"I have to admit, being away from my problems was the best idea my mom ever had. You’ve never set foot in my school, but we all have our problems, often similar, sometimes completely different."

Korbin's situation comes to mind. She just never had the chance to grow up in a stable environment, which led to her circumstances. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

"I'm not saying you can't understand, but they teach us to open up, to trust each other. Like with Alexia, you know? We’ve confided in each other about our issues. Plus, we're also guided. Especially by Lucy, in my case, but not just her. It’s a collective thing, you see? It's not just Lucy who helped me evolve, as you said."

"And in all this, what happens to me?"

"What do you mean, what happens to you?" I teased. "You’re still my best friend, no matter what. Nothing will change that. Neither new friendships nor our new relationships. We’re still us."

"Good, I’m relieved," she said, clearly feeling better. "Because I’ve applied for a transfer for next year."

"Really?" I said, excited.

She had mentioned wanting to follow me, but hadn’t said what she was planning. Knowing she’ll be here next year makes me really happy. Even though the school keeps me busy, I miss her a lot.

"Of course! You’re not getting rid of me that easily," she giggled. "My teacher said there shouldn’t be any problem. The school in Manchester has a better reputation, but with my good grades, I should get accepted. He even said it would be better for me."

"That’s awesome!"

I hugged her tightly. She doesn’t have an official response yet, but I’m confident it will work out. Mapi is a very diligent student, even if it doesn’t always seem that way. After all, she’s doing what she loves.

"I’m really happy, honestly."

"Can I confess something else while we’re at it?" she asked, pulling away from my embrace. "But you won’t take it the wrong way, right?"

"What now?" I asked, holding back a small laugh.

"I used to wonder if Lucy would be enough for you," she admitted, making me frown. "That was before you were together. I thought she was too calm and too sensible. Not to mention she didn’t seem to enjoy parties. You just have to see how she reacted to last night’s party agai—"

"She wasn’t feeling well yesterday," I defended her immediately. "She had a migraine, and the party wasn’t the best for her, but she still wanted to come."

"Whatever," she said, waving her hand as if it didn’t matter. "That’s not the point, it was just an example. I thought she’d be boring for you in the long run. I talked about it with Ingrid before you were together, and she got mad, saying I didn’t know Lucy. And I have to admit, she was right."

Her last sentence brought me instant relief. I was already worried she might say she no longer saw me with Lucy, which would have been strange since she’s the one who kind of pushed us together.

"So, you’ve changed your mind?" I asked hesitantly, making her shrug.

"I have to admit she knows how to handle you," she replied with a small smile that made me laugh. "That’s all that matters, and if you’re happy with her, that’s what’s important."

"I am. She’s really sweet and adorable. I didn’t expect that either."

"Oh, really?" she said, surprised.

"Well, yeah… She’s always been caring towards me, but I found her so closed off before that I didn’t know what to expect if she ever opened up."

"I see… So how is it?"

"It’s really great. She’s confided in me little by little, but now, she’s so open that I can see her expressions, you know? That wasn’t the case before."

"Hmm, hmm," she smiled. "Are you sure it’s not you who finally opened your eyes to how she feels?"

"Of course not," I replied, gently hitting her arm, making her laugh.

"I’m telling you, Ona. She was already smitten the first time I saw her interact with you. I even told Lucy. You were just too oblivious to notice."

I blushed just thinking about it. We really were blind, according to our friends.

"Maybe you’re right… We’re together now," I said pensively. "You know, I wanted to use this vacation to get closer to her. I was really scared of my reactions when starting a new relationship," I confessed to her.

"You haven’t slept together yet, have you?"

"No," I grimaced. "Do you think Lucy will be patient with that? I’m worried."

"Yeah, don’t worry. Knowing her, she has the patience of a saint. If she needs it, I bet she’ll let you know."

"If you say so… Anyway, don’t scare me like that again. I really need your positive opinion, and you know that, right?"

"I know, yeah," she smiled. "And you have it. She even managed to make me jealous, and that’s saying something."

I chuckled, shaking my head. At least she’s not afraid to admit it. Others would have denied it. Not her, and I love that about her.

"And you, with Ingrid?" I changed the subject.

"She’s great, really," she answered instantly, clearly expecting the question. "Much better than Ana. She’s cool, we laugh a lot, and she’s laid back. Oh, and also, in bed, she’s pretty good."

"Oh, Maps, please, spare me the details."

"What? You don’t want to know?"

"No, thanks," I grimaced.

"Are you sure?"

She laughed, fully aware that this is one of the few topics we can’t discuss. I’m not prudish, but I’d rather not know what my ex does with her new girlfriends. Talking about it makes me feel like we’re back in the past, and I’d rather avoid that. After this little laugh, we both sighed softly. We really needed this conversation to clear the air.

"Looks like our wild nights are over now."

"Seems like it, yeah," I chuckled.

"I think I’m a bit scared of this new change, you know, becoming an adult, having responsibilities. Ingrid even says I often act like a child," she laughed, making me smile.

I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me. She rested her head on my shoulder, accepting my embrace.

"We’ll do it together, don’t worry. Never one without the other."

She nodded and kissed my cheek afterward, making me smile. All she needed was reassurance. I regret letting things get to the point where she felt neglected and unheard. I’ll have to figure out how to balance things better in the future. I’ve already hurt her enough in the past, I don’t need to add anything else.

"I guess I owe Lucy an apology now."

"Oh, it’s not necessary."

"It is. Knowing you, you’ll tell her everything, so I might as well do it myself," she replied.

I laughed because she’s so right. I can’t hide anything from Lucy. Especially since she’s been glancing over at us, and I imagine she’ll have questions for me.

"And I’ll have to thank her too," Mapi said, drawing my attention back to her.

"For what?"

"Thanks to you two, I met Ingrid," she answered with a small smile. "We exchanged numbers to talk about you mainly, but we hit it off so well that we got closer. So, thank you too."

"It’s my pleasure if we helped you. Your happiness is important to me, you know that. Now that everything’s clear, how about a hug?"

"Damn right, I’ve been waiting for that."

I laughed as I barely had time to catch her in my arms for a tight embrace. I missed her touch. Mapi will always be the first person who helped me out of that dark place. She’s indispensable to me, and she should know that. I closed my eyes, savoring this moment that I had missed. It’s different from being with Lucy, but just as familiar.

"Come on, we should catch up with them before they start wondering where we are."

Now that she mentioned it, I realized we couldn’t see our girlfriends anymore. Instead, a small wooden cabin stood before us. I easily guessed it was the chalet where we were supposed to pick up our gear, thanks to the sign. I nodded and let her go in first. Our girlfriends were in line, so we joined them.

- "Well, what took you so long, girls?" Ingrid asked as we approached.

- "Sorry, we were just talking," Mapi explained as she pulled away from me to enjoy a hug from her girlfriend.

I nestled into Lucy's embrace, just as Mapi did with Ingrid. Lucy's expression was full of curiosity after I stole a kiss. I snuggled into her neck and whispered:

- "I'll explain later."

My answer seemed to satisfy her because she hugged me tightly and kissed my temple. I smiled as I watched the other couple interact. It was clear who was in charge between them, and it was a bit surprising. Normally, Mapi was the one who took control, but not in Ingrid's arms, it seemed. Given Ingrid's playful nature, I hadn’t expected her to take on that role.

- "When will you tell me?"

I turned my attention back to Lucy. It was only then that I noticed her impatience, which made me smile.

- "Be patient. You'll know everything tonight, I promise."

- "Hmm... Okay," she said, pouting adorably, which made me smile.

It was funny how eager she was to know. Since I’d become better at reading her expressions, I’d discovered many traits I hadn’t known about before. Curiosity was one of them. I admired her so much for being able to hide it and not bombard me with questions. That's probably what I would have done in her place, but she knew that would have made me run. I wouldn’t have been able to handle it. With these thoughts in mind, I stood on my tiptoes to kiss her again, hoping it would satisfy her for now. I could tell she was frustrated about not knowing our conversation, but I didn’t want to discuss it in front of the girls. It seemed my idea worked because she returned my kiss with a hidden smile.

- "It’s our turn," Ingrid pointed out.

We noticed she was right as we turned to the counter.

- "Can you help me pick out my equipment?" I asked Lucy. "I don’t really know what I’m doing."

- "Of course."

We walked forward with her hand resting on my waist. The receptionist handed us our gear based on Lucy’s instructions. I didn’t know anything about this, so I trusted her judgment.

- "Can’t we snowboard instead of skiing?" I asked when I saw a snowboard nearby.

- "Learn to ski first, will you?" she chuckled. "Snowboarding is much harder."

- "Really? But it’s just one board under your feet."

- "Exactly," she laughed. "It’s much harder to balance and stay on your feet. We’ll try it someday when you’ve mastered skiing."

- "So that means we’ll come back?"

- "We’ll go wherever you want, whenever you want, and as many times as you want, sweetheart."

I bit my lip at how affectionate she was becoming day by day. She had never been this sweet with me before. The tough, relentless Lucy was long gone, and I couldn’t even say which version I preferred now. I felt more and more important in her eyes, and that’s all I ever wanted.

- "Come on, let’s get going," she pulled me out of my daydream.

We thanked the man for his service, and the four of us headed outside with our equipment. We found a bench where we could sit and put on our skis. Aside from my grumbling, it was a pretty quiet moment. Lucy had a teasing smile as she watched me struggle. I had just managed to put on the boots she had chosen for me. I was surprised that she had picked the right size without even asking.

- "You could help instead of just laughing at me."

- "Of course," she said, her smile widening. "Since you asked so nicely."

- "Hey!" I protested, pouting.

- "I’m kidding."

As if she’d been doing this her whole life, she effortlessly got up and crouched down in front of me. She started by tightening the straps on my boots, which apparently weren’t tight enough for her. Then she placed the skis flat on the ground, and I finally understood the system when she positioned the tip of my foot in front of the clips. She then asked me to press down with my heel, and I heard my boot click into the ski. I did the same with the other one. At first, the sensation of having something under my feet was very strange, especially when I tried to slide them back and forth. The real fun was about to start. We exchanged a smile, as if she was thinking the same thing as I was when she stood up. She pecked my lips and held out her hands.

- "Come on, princess. It’s time to stand up."

- "Oh my God," I murmured as I wobbled the moment she pulled me to my feet.

The feeling was very weird. I probably would have slipped if Lucy hadn’t been holding me in her strong arms. She chuckled, gently pulling me closer. I regretted having such a bulky jacket on because I couldn’t feel her touch on my skin.

- "Okay... So what now?"

- "I’m going to let go and grab your poles."

- "And if I fall?"

- "You won’t fall," she laughed.

To make sure of it, she kept one arm around my waist as she moved to grab our poles. Once she had them, she let go of me and stood beside me. I glanced over at the girls who were watching us.

- "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "And now?"

- "Now we move forward."

I blinked as I saw Mapi following Ingrid. It was like she had been doing this forever. I parted my lips and looked at Lucy, who was laughing at me.

- "H-how did she do that?"

Lucy burst into laughter, which annoyed me. I had a feeling I’d be the last one today, and I hated that.

- "It’s not hard. It’s like walking. Just take small steps. It’ll help you get used to the skis and work on your balance. Then we’ll start sliding."

- "I’m suddenly not feeling so confident..."

- "Hey, it’ll be okay, alright? There will be falls and probably a lot of bruises tonight, but you’ll be fine. I’ll help you, and I won’t let you leave until you’ve made at least one descent."

- "Oh my God..." I muttered. "And what if I’m sore tonight?"

- "I have a little solution for that... But it’ll be up to you to decide when the time comes."

- "When you say things like that, it’s usually something I won’t like..."

- "Who knows... You’ll tell me tonight."

Wednesday, February 17th, 8:30 PM - Hotel Room.

All day, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Lucy’s suggestion would be. I turned it over in my mind a thousand times, hoping that in the end, it would be the jacuzzi we’d go to. As I had predicted, all my muscles were sore from this simultaneously disastrous and rewarding day. If I learned anything today, it’s that I’m a walking disaster. Though that’s not new, I was really bad at skiing. Once again, Lucy showed incredible patience with me. Unlike me, Mapi picked it up quickly. She’s always been more athletic and daring than me, so it wasn’t surprising. Lucy didn’t mind that we stayed at the bottom of the slope all day, while the girls and the rest of our friends who joined us after lunch went up to do runs. I think Lucy was happy we could spend some time together, uninterrupted for once. When we got back, I expected her to announce her idea right away, but she wanted us to have dinner with our friends first. It made me feel confused and reluctant, knowing that the pool had a closing time and would probably be closed by the time we were done. I was slightly disappointed since I had been dreaming about it all day, but now that I’m facing her real proposal, I don’t know how to react. I agreed, of course, but that didn’t make me any less nervous.

- "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I’d understand if you didn’t, you know. We’ve only been together for two weeks, and then-"

- "Luce, I told you I wanted to do it. Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?" I half-joked.

The panic in her eyes disappeared for a moment, replaced by tenderness.

- "I haven’t. It’s just that I don’t want you to be scared or think I’m rushing things."

"We’re in swimsuits. What am I supposed to be scared of? We’ve already been in the pool, in a jacuzzi, and even in a spa. It’s not a bubble bath we’re going to take in swimsuits that’s going to scare me. »

- It's smaller, more intimate, and... private.

- That's what makes it even more romantic, right? I want us to spend some time together, just the two of us. For once, we actually have the time.

She giggles as she turns off the water that had been running until now when he gets halfway to the bathtub. To be honest, I'm in total panic inside. I can't even explain why. Lucy is everything you could want in a girlfriend. She didn't run away when I told her that I had isolated myself from the world for half a year. On the contrary, she wanted to prove to me that I'm no longer alone. Maybe it's because I know that this situation will bring us to an even deeper stage in our relationship. I push the thought away and speak.

- You getting in first? I murmur.

She nods softly, stepping one foot at a time into the tub. My eyes don't leave her for a second as she sits at the back of the tub. I hesitate for a moment, but her reassuring smile tells me I have nothing to fear. She's the only person I've never been afraid of, at least not in the context of a relationship. Of course, I fear her when she's in a black rage, especially at me, but never otherwise. I return her smile and join her. Instead of leaning my back against hers, I decide to snuggle up against her side. My tension quickly evaporates as my sore muscles relax and Lucy runs a hand through my hair, wrapping her other arm around me. The water is boiling hot, but there's nothing better after this cold day. She kisses my forehead with a satisfied sigh.

- Here we are, in this bath.

I giggle, burying my head in her neck. She had been dreaming about this, and now I finally understand why.

- Have you been dreaming of this moment all day too?

- You could say that... Did you know I wanted to do this?

- No, not the bath, I admit. But now that we're here, it was a very good idea.

And I mean it. The steam rising from the bath creates a strange atmosphere in the room. From where I'm sitting, I can see the mirror, which fogged up in no time. When I look down at the bath, I'm glad to see that the bubbles cover my bruised body.

- Do you know why Mapi's been acting weird lately? I start the conversation with a hint of amusement in my voice.

I break the silence now that we're alone, in the calm. Lucy hums slightly at my question.

- So there was a reason?

- In a way, yes...

I lift my head to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. I smile, finding her adorable like this. She always makes that face when something bothers her or when she doesn't understand what's going on.

- Hmm... So... What was the reason?

- Lots of things... Jealousy, worry, doubts...

- In what way? she asks, skeptical. She thinks I wouldn't take good care of you?

- No, that's not it.

I smile in amusement, detecting impatience in her movements. She knows Mapi's opinion matters to me. Just to tease her a little longer, I reluctantly get up to straddle her. She removes her hands from me, placing them on the edge of the tub while watching me with confusion. I lose track of our conversation, mesmerized by the beauty in front of me. The setting really enhances Lucy. My fingers trace her exposed neck. She had pulled her hair into a messy bun right after our meal. She wanted to be comfortable. I appreciate seeing her so natural. I might not be the first to see her like this, but at least I'm the first among the students at Camp Wiegman. So, she's no longer the terrifying instructor everyone fears. She's just my girlfriend, who grants me the privilege of seeing her true self. Our evenings alone are my favorite moments so far, even though I've also enjoyed the parties. She seems almost innocent and harmless, which is far from the case at school. I almost dread the moment we have to go back. I don't know how she'll react, nor how I'll react. We'll resume our roles, and I won't be able to enjoy her company in her room as I'll have to return to mine.

- What are you thinking about, looking at me so sadly?

My eyes, which were focused on her mouth where my fingers are now, rise to meet hers. Her excitement has faded into concern. I feel guilty for making her worry, just because my thoughts, which were positive before getting in the bath, suddenly veered to a darker side. It was stronger than me. The idea that we might not be able to live this normally anymore doesn't sit well with me. Especially not after the amazing week we've been having.

- Did I do something wrong? she asks, making me shake my head. Did Mapi say something she shouldn't have? she continues.

I shake my head again. Words fail me, preventing me from defending against things she might believe because of my silence. Unable to find the words, I lean in to kiss her. Hard. Though slightly hesitant, she kisses me back, her hands gently caressing my waist. I seek even more contact, but she stops me.

- Hey, hey, stop. I get that this environment can give ideas, but that's not the point of this evening.

Her words cool my ardor, and I blush, realizing what I've just done. How could I have gone so far with just one fleeting thought?

- S-sorry... I-I didn't mean to. I-I don't know what came over me.

- It's okay, really, she giggles. What were you thinking about to get carried away like that, hmm? You were looking at me with adoration before suddenly closing off.

- I'm afraid of not handling our return to school well.

Lucy arches an eyebrow in confusion. It's understandable. I'm jumping from one topic to another without any reason.

- Did Mapi mess with your head? she deduces, still unsure of what's going on.

- No! I quickly reply. Mapi just needed comfort. She was jealous that she couldn't comfort me the way you do.

- Oh. I didn't see that coming... I thought I was the problem.

- No. She just felt neglected. We've drifted apart because of the distance, but it'll be okay. And...

I pause for a moment, unsure if I should continue.

- And?

- Will you promise not to hold it against her? I ask, nervously biting my lip.

- Why would I hold it against her?

- Because I'm not sure you'll appreciate what she thought of you at first...

- Go on, she mumbles, her mood shifting.

I bite my lip again. I know I'm taking a risk, but I can't afford to stay silent. I promised myself to be honest with her.

- I think she still saw us as the teens we were, because she thought you were too calm and reasonable for me.

I watch her closely as I say all this. Her reaction is strange. It's as if she's suppressing her feelings again.

- If you say that's what she thinks, then I guess that's not how you feel?

Of course not. How many times do I have to tell you? You're everything I need, Lucy. Mapi understands that now. Especially after the Valentine's Day you planned for me. She's planning to apologize to you because she knows I would tell you. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that I don't care about playing the reckless teenager anymore.

- OK... she murmurs. Thank you for being honest. I'll wait for Mapi's apology.

The tone of her voice isn't as cold as I expected. I understand that she doesn’t hold it against her. After all, she didn’t like her much at first either. If she says this, it's probably because she’ll use the opportunity to talk with her face-to-face.

- Thank you, I whispered at the thought. Thank you for everything.

- I love you.

My muscles relax at these simple words, which have become part of our daily routine. Lucy had promised to show me how much I mean to her, and for the past three days, that's all she’s done. I feel so loved, especially after struggling for so long to love myself.

- Say it again, please.

- I love you, my love.

This time, there’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but it doesn’t lessen the impact. She pulls me closer, returning us to our original position.

- Everything will be okay, alright? We'll figure things out. I’ll take care of us. But you, I want you to prioritize your future.

- You are my future, I murmured.

- I mean professionally, my love. I’ll take care of you like I promised, and I’ll handle our other relationships, like with Mapi if needed, but you have to focus on your studies first. Is that clear? Can you do that? It’s not that hard, right?

- No... It isn’t, as long as you’re by my side.

- I will be, no matter what. And how about we just enjoy our moment for once, hmm? You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.

- No, I don’t, but I understand why now. I wanted to thank you for being so patient with me. These past few days have been magical. I haven’t felt this at peace in someone’s arms in a long time.

- That’s all that matters then. That’s how I want you to feel with me. Not scared, or anxious, or lacking confidence, or uncomfortable... Just yourself.

- I am, I murmured. You’re the one who helped rebuild me. You’re probably the person I trust the most.

I take a deep breath at that thought. It’s frightening to depend so much on one person. But that’s my reality. I truly depend on Lucy. We both know that if she’s no longer in my life, I might spiral even worse than before. It happened once, and it wasn’t pretty. I could barely sleep at night or eat during meals, and it will happen again if she ever leaves me. I know that’s unlikely now, but even a one percent chance is terrifying.

- I don’t want to go back, I confided. You make me feel like I’m living a dream.

- I assure you, your dream is real, she teased. You’ll have to get used to living this peacefully.

- You have no idea how right you are, I murmured, snuggling even closer to her.

I close my eyes with a small, satisfied smile spreading across my lips. Yeah, I could easily get used to this new way of life.

- If Mapi kept us apart during our outings, it’s because she missed me, but also because she was seeking my attention out of fear that I’d leave her behind...

- I see, she sighed. There were other ways she could have shown it. Like, for example, talking to you about it.

- She knows she acted poorly, but my distance from her and my closeness to you affected her. She regrets it. In fact, we shouldn’t have involved everyone in this. I should’ve talked to her directly. I almost thought she had a fight with Ingrid.

- She didn’t, don’t worry. Ingrid mentioned it briefly at lunch, she reassured me.

A small sigh of relief escaped me. The last thing we need is for our little issues to affect their relationship.

- So, everything’s settled now? She’s going to leave us alone for the rest of the trip?

- I’ll make sure of it, I giggled.

- Good... So, back to you. Why do you understand how she feels?

- Because I’m afraid of our return to school...

- Babe, she sighed. We’ve already talked about this.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #ona batlle #barca femeni #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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junkdrawerfics · 1 year ago

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First Vampire

that you know of

Series of Firsts - part 4

Summary: After that night of internet research, you can't get the thought of vampires out of your head. It takes a week, but you eventually gain the confidence to ask him about it. It's a shocking conversation to say the least.

Words: 1275

---

“If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?”

Jasper glances at you, brows furrowing, “Of course I will.”

You hesitate, picking at a dead leaf by your shoe. The question has been stuck in your head all week, ever since the night you stumbled across that word. You’ve spent every day since trying to figure out how to ask Jasper about it. And honestly, you’ve come up with nothing. Not a single subtle way to do it.

So you’re here, in a very familiar spot. The place you first met him. It looks a little different, with the trees glowing red and orange among the ever green pines, and with no battered kitten this time. Just you and Jasper, tucked close together on that stump you found.

Another difference - last time you were here, you weren’t scared.

Now you are.

So scared your hands are shaking. But not because of the possibility of your best friend being a vampire. That thought hasn’t scared you for a second, a fact you are desperately trying to ignore so you don’t feel crazier than you already do.

No, what you’re really scared of is losing him. Even though you’ve only known him for a few months, you can’t imagine life without Jasper. The day you met, something shifted. In you. In the world. The thought of losing him makes something in your heart ache.

“Darlin’? Everythin’ alright?”

His shoulder brushes yours, the warm drawl of his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. It brings you back from the mess in your head. His eyes are set on you, molten gold swirling with unbridled concern. Of course he’d worry. Because that’s just who he is. Sweeting, caring, absolutely amazing Jasper.

Vampire or not, you can’t lose him. You just can’t.

“Promise me something?” You request quietly, leaning into his shoulder.

The blond nods, leaning right back into you without a word.

“Promise me that we’ll stay friends no matter what.” Your voice shakes, like your hands, and you can’t bring yourself to look away from them.

Jasper’s face softens. He can feel how nervous you are, not that he needs his ability to tell. Gently, so gently, he brushes his fingers across your cheek, drawing your wide, doe-ish eyes up to his.

“I’ll be here for as long as you want me, darlin’,” he murmurs, cool thumb brushing over your heated cheek, “That’s a promise.”

You let out a deep, stuttering breath, tension dripping from your shoulders. Hearing him say that settles every anxiety buzzing in your chest. You’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

So you might as well get it over with, right?

“Are you a vampire?”

Jasper’s touch stills on your cheek. You glance between his eyes, catching the faintest flicker of surprise before he schools his expression into something practiced, calm. Biting your cheek, you have to hold tight to the promise he just made to keep your worries from flooding back.

When Jasper does speak, his voice is calm, quiet, “Would that scare you?”

He watches you carefully, eyes slightly narrowed, almost…uncertain? You’ve never seen Jasper uncertain. He’s always been so confident, teasingly cocky at times. Seeing him like this sparks something strangely protective in your chest.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. You could never be scared of him.

Jasper blinks, another spark of shock flickering across his face. That’s not the answer he expected. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He knew it would come to this, you were too curious for your own good, but Alice wouldn’t tell him what would happen, wouldn’t even give him a hint to how you’d react.

And out of all the possibilities, this is not the one he imagined happening. You, sitting here, looking up at him with determination gleaming in your eyes. Not an ounce of fear, just something desperately hopeful. Something like love.

For a moment he almost thinks his heart starts again.

“You really are something’, aren’t you darlin’?” He breathes, features melting into a smile as he shakes his head. “I don’t know why I expected anythin’ different”

Your brows shoot up and so does your voice, “So it’s true?”

The blond nods, all too amused at how taken aback you look You stare at him owlishly, disbelief swirling with relief, which just makes you that much odder. What a strange human, he thinks fondly, with maybe the poorest survival instincts since Bella.

“So, wait, how- So you’re a vampire. Vampires are real. Are all of you- is your whole family?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And Bella?”

“She knows,” he admits, and you look even more boggled, “Though, I’d like to point out I kept our secret longer than Edward.”

You snort, “How long did he last?”

“Few weeks at best.” He smirks. It’s something he’ll hold over his brother for all eternity.

“Wow.”

You can barely process it. Even though it’s what you suspected, a part of you never thought it could be true. But you’re not crazy. And Jasper is a vampire. They’re all vampires. Your pulse jumps. Does that mean-?

“We don’t drink from humans,” Jasper says, as if reading your thoughts, “My family, we’re…different from others of our kind. We like to call ourselves vegetarians.”

You tilt your head. “Vegetarians?”

“We only drink from animals,” he explains with a humorless chuckle.

Something settles in your chest. You never thought Jasper would hurt someone, you never thought any of the Cullens could, but what are you supposed to think when faced with the reality that vampires exist? It’s a whole different world, one you thought only existed in books, and now you’re living in the middle of it.

“This is insane,” you sigh, slumping into his side, head resting against his shoulder.

Jasper stiffens immediately, but when you don’t move, when you still show no signs of fear, he slowly wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you closer. Warmth spreads across your cheeks.

“You’re takin’ it better than most. Makes me worry,” he hums, squeezing your side teasingly, “You sure you didn’t bump your head, sweetheart?”

The touch sends all your thoughts jumbling, the heat spreading down your neck, “I know it sounds crazy. I’m like freaking out inside, but also not, and I just- I don’t know. You’re my best friend and I love you, and I don’t want things to change, so-”

You freeze.

You said that. Out loud. To Jasper.

It almost feels like summer with how your whole body flushes. Slowly, you drag your eyes up to his face, to see if he caught what you said, and if the wolfish smirk tugging at the corner of his lips tells you anything, he definitely did.

“If that’s the case,” Jasper drawls, voice teasing as he draws you closer, “I can finally ask you on a proper date.”

“What?” The word comes out as a squeak.

Your brain is short circuiting. Like, completely shut down. Forget the vampire thing. Jasper, your Jasper, the sweetest, most charismatic man you know, wants to take you on a date?

“Now that you know our secret, I’d like to take you on a proper date,” he repeats, and it’s just as unbelievable the second time. “I’d like to pick you up, take you to a nice dinner, and kiss you at the door when I drop you off.”

You inhale sharply, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

And just like that, the same day you learn about the Cullens being vampires, you get asked out on your first date with Jasper Hale. A date you immediately go home to get ready for.

You don’t know which part is crazier.

---

Not sure about this one, but I thought it was fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #series of firsts

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buggyboba · 1 month ago

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✦ October 24th | sex pollen

AN 𓏧

↳ ○ | AN| Hi, hello, we are going to pretend that this isn't three days late. I was FIGHTING for my life with this one, I'm not going to lie. We got there though, I'm not 100% happy with this, but that might be me being real nit picky. The Master is a real ass in this one, it feels a little non-con, since a few things happen, I'll throw it in the TW too, but it's not really, just kinda vibes briefly. I'm only going to do one more, (well two because treat won for trick or treat, so I will be doing a Dhawan!Master x Reader one and a Kate Stewart x Reader one for Halloween, to finish it out. Once again I will keep the rest of the ones I didn't do for Kinktober and maybe release them slowly. This was a big big challenge for me, the whole kinktober thing, and that's on me for thinking a week or so before October that I could certainly do 31 fanfictions, even if they were supposed to be short little smutty drabbles. I have quickly learned, I can't just write short little things...I won't apologize for that though, because that's the roleplayer in me...I was absolutely one of those long-ass novel writing role players. I LIKE WORDS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU LET ME HAVE MY PROSE AND STUFF! Anyway I once again tried to keep it rather gender-neutral, but it's implied female anatomy, but if you squint maybe not? I tried, I SWEAR I will do Master x male reader sometime. SMUT MDNI

SUMMARY𓏧

↳ ○ how was he supposed to know the flowers on this planet were in bloom this time of year. How was he supposed to know how they would effect your human body? (Spoilers he knew.)

PAIRING𓏧

↳ ○ Simm!Master x Reader

TW𓏧

↳ ○ mentions of hypnosis, sex pollen, so consensual, but at what cost? sort of vibes. unprotected p in v sex, semi-clothed sex, the master is a right asshole, cumshot. petnames.

WORD COUNT𓏧

↳ ○ 3100

A03 lINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

MASTERLIST LINK𓏧

↳ ○ x

★𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★ 𓏧 𓏧 𓏧★

You were suspicious when he brought you to this planet; he called it Hevides, said it was a nice little flora planet, perfect this time of year. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets, looking around as he exited the tardis, which aptly was pretending to be a tree. That wasn’t going to cause problems later, you were sure. He explained that there were a few rare plants on Hevides that he wanted to get his hands on; he wouldn’t tell you what for, but you assumed it was for a nefarious plan; it always was. You followed after him; it was a beautiful planet, you would give it that, but you also had a deep, nagging fear that a man-eating plant or something was going to get you, and that would be a terrible fate, just this giant piranha plant from Wish looking thing eating you. You were careful where you stepped; thick vines were littering the forest floor, which definitely didn’t help your imagined scenario of being eaten by a plant while there.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” you finally asked, but his annoyed scoff told you it was the wrong question to ask.

“Ye’ of such little faith,” he muttered as he walked past you.

“I mean, do I have to remind you of the fish people?” You started.

“Fish peop—you mean the sea devils? Come now, pet, that’s xenophobic.” He teased you. You stammered and tried to back petal, to which he chuckled and kept walking. “They weren’t fish; they were more like turtles if anything,” he shook his head.

“No, I didn’t mean it in a—I didn’t know they were called that." You stammered out, “And wait, wait, you don’t get to call me that; you are the most—” He cut you off and shook his head.

“Just because I think everyone is beneath me? Because they are, and you silly little apes are no exception, little backward things you are,” he tilted his head watching you. “Now don’t pout, pet; I picked you, didn’t I? As my companion,” he smirked his tone, teasing on the word companion. He disliked the word, but it was the best word to describe you and your relationship.

"Yeah, moving on; we don’t have time for all that right now; you told me the sea devils were safe, and then they tried to kill us.” You pointed out.

“Miscommunication, and perhaps some old hard feelings.” He waved it off and clapped, making a victorious sound as he spotted what he was looking for. It was a large purple and orange flower; it looked similar to a sunflower if you had to compare it to something; the middle was covered in thick red pollen. He motioned you over, and you shifted, walking a bit closer. You hadn’t noticed how careful he had been stepping around it. When you got close enough, he flicked the back of the flower, making the pollen fly into the air around you. You coughed and sputtered, trying to cover your mouth so more of the bitter pollen didn’t get into your mouth. You looked at him with a look of disbelief as you doubled over coughing harder.

“Don’t fight it; just breathe normally," he instructed as he observed you. “I just want to see how it affects you,” he said almost nonchalantly.

“An experiment, right now, with a mystery plant!” You used the sleeve of your jacket trying to breathe. You felt funny, but not in a funny way; more like your body was slowly getting hotter, your blood was on fire, and your skin felt uncomfortable, like your clothing touching it was too much. The feeling was overwhelming quickly. Then the heat pooled, and you felt an ache between your legs. You blinked, trying to determine the feeling and will it away. Your head was hazy. You took a step back, your pupils dilating more; he moved forward, catching you before you almost fell in your attempted retreat.

His fingers pressed against the side of your neck, on your pulse point, feeling your heart racing, pulsing against his fingers, he hummed. Your hand wrapped around his forearm; you tried to look angry, but your body was on fire, and his cold touch felt good; it would feel better lower. You blinked at your own thought; you felt your mouth water, and he pulled you up carefully. “Talk me through what you are feeling,” he smirked. “I mean, I can see some physical signs, some delightful tells, but I want to know how it feels for you.” He said like he was a scientist, and this was all a very ethical experiment.

You almost didn’t want to tell him; you felt squirmy. Was that a word you could use? Was that a scientific description? “I’m on fire,” you breathed out. His hand grabbed your throat, letting his thumb brush your jawline before he moved your head side to side to look you over with that cocky grin. You let out a softer sound, “I don’t know, I mean, it’s overwhelming really; I am shaky, and there is this..." You paused, not knowing if you wanted him to know about the ache, but he looked at you with an expectant look. “I just...feel horny,” you muttered out the last word, looking away from him, but he tsked and pushed your jaw with his thumb so you would look back at him. “I just, I need..." You sighed.

“Need what? Go on, tell me... I am all ears.” He grinned at you again; you could tell he had a sort of satisfaction about this reaction. You wanted to stay mad, you really did, but your mind was so hazy now that you couldn’t think about anything but getting rid of this ache. It was nothing like you had ever felt before, and you were worried, scared almost. What was this pollen doing to you?

“I just want the ache to go away. I just want—” you muttered out, locking eyes with him. His honey-colored eyes took you in. He studied your face, how flushed you looked, and how desperate you sounded. He looked down at you as your hips arched subconsciously against his, and a snider grin took his lips.

“Such a needy, desperate thing.” He teased, “And why should I help you?” He asked like this wasn’t completely his fault.

You blinked and looked at him almost in disbelief, “Because you brought me here! Because you made the pollen come off the flower?” You said shortly, his free hand left his pocket and moved to grab right above your hip. “You knew this would happen!” You accused, to which he gave you those puppy dog eyes.

“I didn’t know this exact thing would happen; I mean, I could have hypothesized about the effects on your silly human body, but I wasn’t completely sure, well, until now.” He nodded. “It won’t kill you, so stop worrying so much; just feel a bit.” He grinned, “You are adorable like this...all needy.” He mused a bit; he found this whole thing amusing, and you let out an annoyed strangled sound; you were getting so worked up, and he was just standing there being amused; you could strangle him.

“Why isn’t it affecting you?” You sighed, trying to focus. You had a lot of willpower, so maybe you could work through this, maybe.

“Respiratory bypass... held my breath when I flicked it.” He shrugged like it should have been common knowledge to you by now. "Plus, I’m sure it wouldn’t have affected me anyway.” He let your throat go and stepped back. “Come along. There really was something else I needed to get here.” He said and started to walk. You didn’t move; however, he paused when he didn’t hear you following him. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” You stayed still; you didn’t know if you could trust your legs to carry you properly. He rolled his eyes. “Are you playing disobedient now? Should I make you follow me, pet?” He asked, and you knew he was implying he was just hypnotizing you; maybe that would override what you were feeling.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you muttered. You took a deep breath and forced your legs to move; even though they shook a bit, your whole body did. You didn’t like this feeling, this sheer feeling of need; the heat was almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you slowly followed him, glaring at the back of his stupid head as he leisurely strolled through the forest looking for what he was really after. You walked for what felt like ever; the effects were getting worse, your body shook more, and you had to stop and lean against a tree to hold yourself up. "Master,” you breathed out. He paused, taking note of your breathy call. He turned around and looked at you, taking in your appearance; it seemed the pollen was in full bloom in you now. He tilted his head, noticing how you were leaning, how you subconsciously clenched your thighs together, and how one hand gripped onto the stomach area of your jacket. You looked weak now, shaky. He inwardly sighed like you were a nuisance before he turned on his heel and walked towards you.

“You humans are so fragile,” he muttered and moved to pin you against the tree; his hands ran through your hair, forcing you to look at him again. The touch made you breathe out, “You aren’t going to be any good to me if you can’t keep up.” He mock pouted at you, “I suppose I, once again, have to take care of you.” He gave an exaggerated sigh, moving to let his hand trail down your stomach, stopping at the button of your pants. He looked at you for a moment, taking note of how your eyes were hazy, how you had the look of pure need, and how he could smell how aroused you were just by the air around you. That pollen made short work of you, and it amused him more than it should have. It melted your reservations, so much so that you were shifting a bit, trying to get him to undo your pants; it was like your mind couldn’t think of anything but getting off. “Oh and out here in the open, the great outdoors, how scandalous of you, bunny.” He mocked a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up more. He was right; you would have never done anything like this in public, not that this was public; this was in the middle of an alien forest; you hadn’t seen signs of civilization or anything of that sort, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t.

You choked out a whine; you didn’t want to wait anymore, yet here he was being his normal mocking, snarky self, taking his time because he wanted to annoy you; that’s what it had to be. He finally pulled the button free, and with a delicate movement, he unzipped your pants, letting them fall past your knees and pool around your feet, but he didn’t touch you yet; he let his hand slip under your jacket, pushing it and your shirt up as he stepped closer, his mouth pressing against your neck, his hands groped at your chest, kneading the flesh there, listening to the lovely needy sounds that were spilling from your parted lips. He pressed against you more, keeping you snuggly pressed against the tree, the bark scraping your back, but the pain from it didn’t translate; it almost felt good. Your hand gripped and your nails scraped at the bark; your other hand grabbed his arm, gripping the fabric of his black jacket. Each kiss and nip caused you to whine and groan out; it felt so good; everything felt so enhanced; someone could be making a killing using this as one of those ‘enhancer’ pills, a funny thought that was quickly pushed from your head as his hips rolled against yours, grinding against you. He let a soft growl escape his throat as he sucked a dark mark into your skin before his hands slid down and grabbed your legs, easing them up to sit against his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, your body so hot, your blood felt like it was boiling, you whined out, you felt so damn needy, you didn’t like it, your senses were on overdrive.

"Oh, what fun little sounds you make,” he muttered against your throat and pressed an open-mouth kiss against it before letting his teeth graze again. All these little touches and nips were driving you mad.

“Master! Please!” You choked out, pressing against him more, well, as much as you could in this position. As you pathetically rutted against him, he arched his hips up some, and you could feel his arousal, the bulge in his pants growing. He moved one hand down to undo his belt, and you gave a soft, needy sound.

“Down pet,” he smirked, kissing your neck again as he pulled his belt some and then undid his pants. “So needy, I bet you are dying to get fucked.” He growled in your ear. The growl sent a rippling shiver down your spine; you had never needed something more than in this moment. “I’ll admit, this was a very insightful experiment.” He said pulling himself free from his boxers, slowly stroking his cock, teasing against you with the tip, “like a dam broke.” He teased you; you hated that, but you couldn’t help it; the pollen thrummed through you still. You were about to say something, anything to get him to just help you, but he pressed the tip into your dripping entrance. Which caused a breathy sound to escape. He slowly sank in, pulling you against him, One hand moved to cup against your ass, and the other was held against the tree by the side of your head as he started a deliciously slow rhythm. It was clear he was milking this to see you so desperate that you would do anything. It made perfect sense to you; with who he was, you knew he was going to make you beg, even though this was all his fault. Acting like it was an inconvenience, and he was so benevolent to help you, to fuck you.

Your hips rolled against him, trying to get him to stop being so teasingly; his mouth found your neck again, sucking against your pulse point; he could feel how hard your heart was pounding, and you panted out. A deep thrust pulled a long groan from your throat, which made him smirk against your neck. You clenched against him, a diabolically delightful feeling for both of you, which made him grunt against you, biting your neck. He got the message and moved, pressing you harder against the tree, picking up his pace to something rougher, something faster; he wasn’t being playfully teasing anymore.

“I don’t think you really mean it; maybe I should stop and let you think about it some.” He pulled his hips back, but you tightened your grip around his waist; there was no way in hell you were going to let him stop.

Your nails scratched into the treebark behind you, the hand against his arm tightened more, your breath ragged as you groaned and moaned out, the feeling intense, the pleasure making you dizzy thanks to your already hazy mind from the pollen, you felt your muscles tighten and a pooling in your stomach, from your tensing and how your core pulsated around him, he knew you were close. He slowed suddenly, causing you to make a pathetic sound. “You can cum when I say you can,” he nipped below your ear. You couldn’t even think; your mind was swirling. How could he be so cruel and control this right now when your body needed this? “Oh, you want it so badly; listen to you, whining,” he smirked and made a mock whine in your ear. “You know what to ask for.” He breathed out and rolled his hips slowly, pulling almost all the way out, before slowly pushing back in.

You weren’t even sure you could form proper words right now, and he wanted you to feed into his control; he wanted you to beg for him to finish you. There was another low whined sound that he pulled from your throat. You thought about not playing his game, but he would stop, and you certainly didn’t want that. “Please, please let me cum, please, I need to,” you begged out, in the best tone you could manage, even arching and writhing against him, making sure to lock eyes with him. He studied you and shook his head with that cocky grin.

“Master please!” You slid your hand up from his arm to the back of his neck, keeping him close. “I’m sorry! Please! Please, I need you. I’m sorry, please! Please let me cum.” You breathed out in an almost panicked breath; this seemed to please him because he returned to the rhythm that he had been at before. “Please!” You doubled down. The stream of begging words and praises fell from your lips as you clung to him. You choked out a loud screamed Master, as you felt your body snap, the pleasure rushing your blood. The feeling of need was there but not as strong as it had been. He hissed out as your walls clenched against him and flexed milking against his cock. There was a moment he considered marking you as his in the most primal way, but he reluctantly pulled from your divine heat, rutting against you, holding the base of his cock as he groaned out, painting your stomach with strands of hot cum; it splattered against your bare stomach and the bottom of your jacket. There would be time for anger about that later. After a few long silent moments, he let you down to lean against the tree he had just fucked you against as he fixed his pants and redid his belt, making a face as he looked over your appearance. “Messy,” he said, like he once again didn’t cause the problem.

You took deep breaths trying to come down, you slowly fixed yourself, and your gaze flinted up to him. You could feel the prickle of the pollen still, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as it had been. “Do you think you can focus and keep up now? Tell you what, darling, we finish this up, and maybe if you are good and keep up, we can have some more fun when we get back to the tardis; dunno how long the pollen is going to control your silly little human mind, but I would love to study the effects more closely.” He smirked, and you nodded weakly, looking down at the mess he had made of you. It was going to be a long adventure, that was for sure.

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