#i feel like ive reblogged this one before but it speaks to me in a really indescribable way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 6 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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kyeomofhearts · 5 months ago

Text

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.5k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)

Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.

Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.

Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.

Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.

To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.

Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!

Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.

And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.

[...]

To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.

Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.

Other than that...

Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.

Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-

"Hellooo? Yn!"

Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.

You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.

“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"

You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.

You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.

"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"

Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?

You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.

"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."

Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.

"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.

You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.

[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]

Oh.

Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.

Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?

You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.

Wrong.

When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.

"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"

Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.

[yn | wonwoo]

If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.

If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.

You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?

After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.

"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.

Well, that didn't last long.

You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.

Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?

"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.

You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.

"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."

As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.

But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.

As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.

Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.

Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.

"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.

Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.

After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.

Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.

After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.

"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.

Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.

With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.

As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.

"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.

You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.

Did he seriously consider you as a friend?

Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.

"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.

"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.

Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.

"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.

It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.

It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.

You had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.

"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.

And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.

“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.

And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.

“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.

It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”

Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.

You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"

Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.

Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.

Ugh, he was so annoying.

Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.

After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.

[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]

Oh god. What did he possibly want now?

[www.onwoo] why didn't you come with me? :(

Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.

[you] it's only a one-man job. also you look ridiculous with my bag.

Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.

[www.onwoo] i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼

You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.

[you] i have immaculate taste that's why.

A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.

Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.

“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.

You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.

You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.

Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.

Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.

“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.

Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”

But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.

“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.

You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”

“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.

It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.

You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.

Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.

And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.

Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.

“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.

“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.

A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.

“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.

“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.

You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.

Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.

"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”

He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.

“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.

By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.

There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.

Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.

"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"

Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.

This was going to be fun.

Part Three: Coming Soon…

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starrayblogs · 11 months ago

Text

Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: a little something before christmas :3 likes and reblogs are appreciated, have a fun read!! ALSO my asks are open to questions about this fic c:

another a/n: tags~ @brights-place

✩ previous chapter

iv. There You Go

“Aww, do you have to go?” Viva pouts, holding onto your hands. You chuckle.

“Yes, Viva, I have to.” You reply, rocking her hands in yours a bit. “I’m not the only one leaving either, you’re going too.”

“Ugh, I know- It’s just that it’s gonna feel like forever until we see each other again.” She turns away, pulling her hands away to cross them. You lean your body to put yourself in her field of vision, smiling. She makes eye contact with you, and her frown eases, a giggle bubbling from her throat.

“We’ll see each other next week.” You lean back, before your entire body jumps a bit from Poppy surprising you from behind.

“And we’ll be doing the second Trolls Kingdom Secret Holiday Gift Swap!” She says, fists to her face with a wide grin.

“What’s that?” Viva and Branch’s brothers collectively ask.

“Oh, I’m so excited! Okay, so, basically, I send an invitation to all the Troll tribes with the name of someone inside the letter. Then, whoever you got is the troll you have to give a gift to!” Poppy exclaims, proceeding to grab Branch after the explanation.

“And we’ll be delivering the letters three days prior.” He says, looking to everyone else before back to Poppy.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Poppy. And telling Barb about it so we don’t get flooded again.” You follow up the last part with a chuckle.

“You’ve gift swapped before?” Floyd speaks up, and you let out an exaggerated ‘phew’.

“Yeah, it happened… a few days after the World Tour, actually.” You look to Poppy for confirmation, who nods her head. “And I’ve never even met the troll I got, so I was kind of panicking until Poppy pitched in an idea.”

“You’re welcome!” She says, and you chuckle. “I’m so excited to see who you’ll get this time.”

“Please let it be Barb, that way I know what to give this time.” You joke, leaning onto your motorcycle behind you.

“Well, we’ll just have to see whose name lands in your hands!” Poppy sings with a cheeky grin.

“Right…” You smile back, getting a weird feeling in your gut about her grin.

“Well, I’m so pumped for this gift swap thing!” Clay quite literally pumps a fist in the air. “But we better get going before it gets too late.” He says, rolling his hands before reeling it behind him.

“Right! Well, it’s been a fun weekend, you guys. I can’t wait to see you for the holiday!” Viva waves bye to everyone as JD calls Rhonda, who is a sentient car (to your surprise).

Your head tilts as you feel yourself already starting to miss Viva, even after spending almost your entire weekend by her side. She meets your eyes and runs up to give you a tight hug, which you return just as tight. “See you again, Veev.” You tell her softly when she pulls away.

“I can’t wait to spend holidays together again, amiga.” She says quietly to you, and you giggle.

“Get home safely, okay?” You let go of each other and watch as she walks away.

“Of course, get back safe too!” Viva replies, waving by the car door before making her way inside.

You watch Branch and Floyd huddle around the car door to say goodbye to the rest of their brothers. The sun is setting when Rhonda drives them away, JD saying a quick ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can!’ to Floyd and Branch.

You hum, turning your back and getting on your bike. “Are you sure it’s safe to drive back at night all alone?” A gentle voice approaches you, making you look up just as you are about to turn the key.

You turn to Floyd, who looks at you with furrowed brows. You smirk, leaning on top of your fuel tank. “Worried about me, Cotton Candy?”

His eyes flutter for a moment before stammering a reply. “Well, yes, I am. What if you get hurt? I wouldn’t want that to happen.” He says.

You perk up a little from the tank, your eyes widening as your smirk is wiped away. “Ah, well… You don’t- you don’t have to worry, I’ll travel safely.” You reply, stuttering over your words a bit.

He lets out a smile as he sighs. “Good…”

His relief about you getting back safely makes your chest feel light.

“Make sure to have your lights on when it gets dark, alright?” He walks closer to you, holding one of the handles on your bike and causing you to sit up straight. Your cheeks are warm again. “I wanna see you for that gift swap, you know?” He looks at you with that gaze again—that gaze he held with you when he performed with his brothers.

There’s so much care in his eye, accompanied by that sweet smile on his lips. He doesn’t break contact as he waits for your reply.

“Right… I… I wanna see you too, so I’ll be sure to get home in one piece…” You utter softly, not even sure if you are loud enough for him to hear. He chuckles, pulling his hand away from the handle.

He says goodbye, following with your name leaving his lips in a way that makes you melt a bit inside. “Have a goodnight.”

“You too, Cotton Candy…” You manage to give him a reply, before watching him give a small wave and turn his back as he walks back further in Pop Village.

When he’s further away, you feel a smile spread across your face as you laugh to yourself quietly. You catch yourself and quickly cough, turning the key to turn on the bike. “Okay, cool.” You tell yourself, beginning to turn the vehicle around. “Stay cool! He’s just…” You shrug your shoulders as you begin to drive outside Pop Village.

He’s just a regular troll! Sure, he’s cute, and his voice is as pleasant as whatever those classical trolls play, and- You groan, picking up the speed as you ride through the night.

“Oh my gosh, Barb is going to tease the hell out of me.” You realize. You throw your head back quickly and groan louder before quickly facing the road again. “This is not cool.” You glance at yourself in the mirror. “This isn’t ‘rock’.” You tell yourself, glancing back up again.

You inhale deeply and lean closer to the bike, kicking up the speed again. You can’t let yourself get attached, not this easily. You’re not risking it with a world as cruel as this, taking things away no matter how much they mean to you. Keep it cool. You look at yourself one last time in the mirror. “Hard as rock.” You tell yourself, before looking ahead with a frown.

You woke up the next day. You came back home quietly, heading straight to your home while everyone was already in theirs. You slap your hands to your eyes as you collectively cringe and smile about your thoughts last night.

When you bring yourself to a stop with a long exhale, you sit up from bed. You get ready for the day before riding your bike to Barb’s Fortress, calling out to her to show that you’re back.

You hear her voice exclaim your name and feel her hand ruffle your hair from behind you. “What’s up!? How was your little vacay in Pop Village?” She says, leading you to the lounge area.

“It was great.” You reply, chuckling as you think back to it briefly. “Thank you for letting me spend time with Viva.” You follow up, taking a seat with her on the (rather roughed up) couch.

“Hey, no problem.” Barb reassures. “That’s what best friends are for, right?” She smiles softly, her hand on your shoulder. You huff out a laugh and nod your head.

“Yeah…” You say, patting her hand on your shoulder before she pulls away. Then you remember what Poppy said. “Oh, yeah, we should be expecting invitations from Poppy for the Holiday Gift Swap in a few days. So, we probably shouldn’t get flooded like last time.”

“Oh my gosh, again?” Barb says in a breathy voice. “I hope I get someone I know this time.”

“Honestly, I hoped I would get you.” You chuckle, punching her in the shoulder.

“Ohoho, that would be awesome.” She laughs, nodding her head in agreement. “Anyway, what happened on your trip back to Pop Village? Anything interesting?” She asks, turning herself on the couch to face you with crossed legs.

“Oh, you know. Poppy decided to hold a small get-together reunion type-of-thing,” you explain, rotating your wrist. “Actually, it wasn’t just me and Viva catching up. You remember those trolls on stage when we arrived at Vacay Island?”

“Oh yeah, the dark green one-”

“JD.”

“And the other green one-”

“Clay.”

“And there was the purple one-”

“Bruce.”

“And the pink o-”

“Floyd.” You say his name faster than you said the name of the other brothers, catching Barb off guard and widening her eyes a bit.

“Alright, they were there too?” Barb follows up slowly.

“Yeah, and they’re Branch’s brothers. Then we kinda all got to hang out together. But when we left the party, me and Viva caught up a bit more by ourselves.” Barb hums.

“What happened at the party? Were there nachos? If there were, please tell me you brought back some.”

“No, there was menudo- which you should still totally try.” You chuckle. “Anyway, they convinced me to perform a rock song for them.” You recall, smirking a little.

“Aw yeah, rock rep!” Barb pumps a fist in the air before turning back to you. “And then?”

“Then Brozone, that’s the band of Branch and his bros, did a song too. Floyd’s a real performer, you know.”

“Oh?”

You let that compliment slip out a little too nonchalantly. Your smile turns to a laugh, which turns to a cough, which turns to a forced smirk. “Y-yeah! He caught my eye, ya know? Just with how, you know… he kinda looks like us, but less rugged, yeah…” You try to explain coolly.

Barb squints her eyes, raises her brow, and leans forward toward you, quietly staring for close to a minute. “You think he’s cute, don’t you?” She blurts.

You begin to cough violently, feeling your cheeks warm up as you try to cover up your violent reaction with a laugh. “Wha- ha, Of course not! I think he’s interesting!” You correct her.

“Right… You think he’s cute.” Barb leans back, raising her hand with a smirk. “No judgment, by the way.” She says before crossing her arms.

You hide your face in your hands and groan, dragging them down your face. You glare at her smug face with your flushed face before sighing, shoulders slumping too. “Okay, maybe I think he’s cute.”

“Knew it.”

“But! I don’t… I…” Barb’s smirk falls as her face shows concern, her hand unfurling to reach out to you.

“What? What’s wrong?” She asks.

“I don’t want to get too close. What if something happens?” You say quietly, hugging your arms.

“Like what? Nothing’s going to happen, I mean- those bergen things don’t eat you anymore, and all trolls are united. What’s got you scared?” She places a hand on yours. “Doesn’t mean that we’re hard rock doesn't mean you gotta act that way.” She says, chuckling a bit. “I mean, you’ve seen my dad.”

You sigh. “I know, it’s just… It’s what I’m used to. You know that.” You look up to her slowly, meeting her eyes with your furrowed brows.

Barb nods her head slightly. “I know… But I’m telling you that it’s okay now. You’ve got this, there’s nothing to worry about.”

You hum, inhaling deeply as you fix your posture and feel her hand pull away. “Okay… Okay.” You reply to her, but say it to reassure yourself at the same time. You two sit in comfortable silence before Barb speaks up again.

“You know, I think you two would actually look cute together.”

“Barb!” You groan, slapping your hands back on your face and sinking into the couch. You were right when you said Barb would tease you about him.

✩ next chapter

#✩ starraywrites #trolls band together #trolls floyd x reader #x reader #not so rock-hearted

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airbendertendou · 1 year ago

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BLUE BOY! ♡

synopsis : [name] meets someone a little… captivating while waiting for a friend from housen. kantou!mikey in mind.

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

The streets of Shibuya welcome you jubilantly. You browse store’s windows with pursed lips, remembering what caught your eye and what you think others would like. With a vibrated chime, your phone beckons for your attention, drawing it away from the necklace you’re looking at.

yuken !!

omw

see u there shortly

Scrunching your nose in excitement, you grin and send a simple heart back. He’ll know what it means — will know how happy you are to see him. Humming happily, you continue your small stroll, keeping an eye out for blond hair or the store you’re meant to meet at — whichever comes first.

A crash interrupts your quiet afternoon. You ignore it, only watching from the corner of your eye as a tattooed boy runs past ; he’s followed by a few others. You shrug, deciding to mind your business and keep your eye out for your close friend.

As you turn, a flash of shoulder length blond hair catches your attention. With a grin, you race after him and tap on his shoulder excitedly. “Didn’t think you’d sneak pas— huh?”

Except, the guy turning around is not Odajima Yuken.

Soulless, enticing black eyes meet yours. He raises an eyebrow — you jerk your hand away from his shoulder, his touch suddenly burning you. It feels like you’re the only two ; like an entire city has disappeared and left you in the rubble.

Gulping, you try to reign in your shocked expression, composing yourself clumsily. “Sorry, I—“

“You know this person, boss?” Someone new stands to his right. Black hair is styled in a sort-of-mohawk way, red lining his eyes until it’s pointed into a wing. He looks you over, lips curving as he does. “Not bad…”

Blackened eyes still haven’t left your figure. “I don’t.”

“I thought you were someone else,” you speak quickly. Your palms feel sweaty ; itchy with the stares piercing into you. You want nothing more than to get away from this situation ; to get away from the blond in front of you. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave now.”

The call of your name stops you, freezes you in place. Yuken strolls up casually, his hands in his pockets. He eyes your company, “making friends?”

“Ah.” The dark haired boy speaks. He goes from the stranger to Yuken and back again. “Makes sense. They do look alike.”

Your eyes find his once more and you freeze again before looking away. “Again, I’m really sorry.”

Turning quickly, you wrap a trembling hand around the inside of Yuken’s elbow, halfway dragging him away. Get out of this situation ; get away from them. You let out a small breath of relief — you can still feel his eyes on you.

Your name is called again, quieter this time.

Kokonoi hums, looking at his boss in question. “Something up?”

Mikey doesn’t answer, simply stares after you. As you look back one last time, you can’t figure out the tingling you feel. Can’t understand why the stranger behind you emits such an odd response from you.

The right side of his mouth tilts up as you flinch and look away. “Cute.”

——♡——

sorry for all the tr spam it’s all ive been thinking abt recently 💔

if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♡ [no hnl tags bc it’s not mentioned much!!]

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy @night-shadowblood-writes2 @muichirouswifeandhusband @chrofeisnightmaregf

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

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Could you do the TADC cast x reader with a really heavy southern accent?

TADC cast x reader w/ a heavy southern accent!

hello i am back from my silly little lunch break i made a sandwich it was very yummy i need to find a new set of music to listen to while typing, as much as i love jack stauber i think im going to go insane if i hear baby hotline one more time... oddly enough not the first time that specific song has driven me nuts from being overplayed anyways idk side note idk what to do with gifs because i keep running out of TADC gifs and i got a reblog months back on a crp post that implies that gif makers get notified when you use their gifs?? is that true?? if so i am so so so sorry to the tadc gif makers TToTT also still gif related but i keep getting. jumpscared by butts n boobs anytime i open the gif thing i cannot keep doing this!!!!

CAINE:

i think he would find it pretty, like, i dont know how to explain it! i think he would possibly mimic some of your speech mannerisms. probably gives you a cowboy hat. i dont know what it is but i think southern accents, at least from what ive seen, is one of the most romanticized of american accents... maybe its the whole rugged cowboy thing thats commonly associated with it. what im trying to say that i think caine would romanticize it the same way, thanks to him not really having the experience of going out and interacting with people from the south

he finds the accent pretty

POMNI:

i dont think she would really notice it unless she is really trying to pay attention to what you say. but maybe thats just self projection because i myself dont really notice other peoples accents unless its very prominent, or they say something that sounds so different to how im used to hearing things. i feel it would be the same with pomni, but i dont think she would treat you any differently! wish i had more ideas but pomni and gangle are particularly hard for me to write for some reason

RAGATHA:

honestly i like to hc that she grew up in a southern small town before getting stuck in the digital world, but of course she wouldnt remember it... perhaps she would feel some sense of familiarity around you anyways, even if she cant pin down why.. i think that would be nice... she likes listening to you talk

JAX:

writing these out of order, but i think jax would be similar to caine in the regard that he would tease some of your speaking mannerisms. "yaint! yall'd've!" stuff like that... which... i can be mad about because im from the south and the two examples are in my vocabulary... hes not really saying anything thats incorrect, at least in my case

probably asks why your digital form isnt a cowboy, shit eating grin on his face

KINGER:

thinks it sounds nice! for once i dont have any ideas for kinger, which sucks because i love kinger TToTT

your words probably rub off on him, i can see him probably picking up on some of your terms n slang

kinger saying yall isnt real he cant hurt you

kinger saying yall:

ZOOBLE:

similar to pomni they dont notice until theyre forced to notice.. no but imagine your accent becomes more pronounced when you get mad, you start saying more stereotypically southern stuff that people associate. probably does a double take if you say a rather insane variant of 'yall' but otherwise doesnt see much point in pointing it out

GANGLE:

absolutely loves hearing you talk, similar to ragatha! while ragatha clings onto your words thanks to unknown familiarity, gangle just thinks your voice sounds like and soothing, comforting! i dont know what it is but hearing someone trying to comfort you with a heavy southern accent as well as using casual terms of endearment (whether you see this as romantic or platonic is up to you!) in this soft tender voice just always hits different for me. maybe i am guilty of also romanticizing southern accents

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year ago

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Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Title: Daddy Knows Best, Part IV

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: StepDad!August Walker x StepDaughter!Reader

Fandom: Mission: Impossible - Fallout

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: August Walker and your father were once friends. One mission, a single decision, made them enemies. August decides he needs to get his revenge. And what better way, than to become your new Daddy?

Chapter Summary: Daddy and Babydoll deal with the police, and attempt to move on after the tragedy.

Warnings: pet names (Daddy, Babydoll, babygirl), age gap (the reader is 18, August is in his late-30s), loss of a parent (mother), police interrogation, Dom/sub vibes, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: This is different from my usual fics. This would be considered dark!fic in every way possible. If you read the warnings and still choose to read, you are making your own decision. No one is forcing you to read this. This is an entirely self-indulgent therapeutic fic. Enjoy! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @saradika

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

You wake in your bedroom, the early afternoon sun shining through the curtains. You roll over on your side and expect to see Daddy but he’s not in the room. Deciding to take a shower and start the day, you rise and undress.

As you wash yourself, you are suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and loss. For a few moments, you were free. And then you remembered.

Mommy’s dead.

You saw her lifeless body floating in the swimming pool. That vision will probably never leave your brain. The last memory of your mother is of seeing her face down. The crystal-clear water of the pool marred with the sight of her.

Even though you had a rough relationship with her, you still mourn the loss of your mother. With your dad out of the picture, you only had one parent in your life. And now she has been taken away from you.

The water in the shower had gone a bit cold so you rinse yourself off and grab your towel to dry yourself. You dress in a black crop top with a sleeveless black plaid A-line dress on top of it. Pulling on some black thigh-high stockings and a pair of black platform Mary Janes, you embody the look of the mournful daughter.

You look over yourself in the mirror and try smiling at yourself. Instead, a few fat tears roll down your cheeks and you let them fall before giving up on trying to fake happiness. Wiping your face, you settle for going to find Daddy.

Once you leave your bedroom, you walk downstairs and are surprised to see that Daddy isn’t alone. Both men stand when you reach the bottom of the stairs, but the woman stays seated with a small smile on her face. Daddy holds out an arm for you to come join them.

“Come on over, don't be shy. This is Detective Marshall. He came to talk about what happened to your mother,” He nods at my words, “And this is Rachel, she’s a psychologist who works with Detective Marshall.”

I watch as Babydoll walks over and stands next to me, she greets our guests and then sits leaving space between us on the couch. That’s my good girl, don’t give them the chance to question our relationship. I sit down and gesture for Marshall to continue.

“I think I’d like to continue with you in private, if that’s alright Mr. Walker. Perhaps Rachel may speak with your stepdaughter?” Marshall suggests and I agree to his terms.

“Why don’t you take Rachel up to your room so you two can have a little chat?” I insist, patting Babydoll’s knee softly.

Once she nods, she and Rachel make their way upstairs and I hear the door to her bedroom shut. I look back to Marshall and he is scribbling in his little green notebook. His eyes are harder when our gazes meet.

“Just a few more questions and I will be out of your hair, Mr. Walker.”

“Please, call me August. Whatever I can do to help.” I lean forward with my elbows on my knees and my hands clasped together.

“I appreciate that, August. Uh, so you say that your stepdaughter was the first to see your girlfriend’s body. Where were you at this time?”

“I was bringing in my luggage from my car. I made it to the kitchen and noticed the open patio door. When I walked toward it, I heard her scream and caught her as she passed out. I saw her mother in the pool and realized that she wasn’t moving. After putting my stepdaughter in her bedroom, I called the police.” I kept my face neutral, but my eyes welled up a bit and I blinked away tears.

“So, you and your stepdaughter weren’t home when your girlfriend was killed. You two had been on a trip?”

“Yes. I had been on a trip for work, but my stepdaughter didn’t want to be here alone with her mother, so I brought her with me. Their relationship has been a bit strained since the divorce about a year ago. She misses her father and I, no matter how hard I try, am barely a substitute for him.” That’s it, play the role of a loving stepfather.

"You mentioned you work for the CIA, Special Activities. Is it safe for you to take your stepdaughter along on business trips in your line of work?”

“She was never in any danger. No one knew our location or that she was with me. The safe house we stayed in was discreet and out of the way. The only time she was left alone was this morning, and it was just for a couple of hours. I’m sure you understand I can’t divulge the details of my assignment. But you are more than welcome to check in with my superior, Erika Sloane.” I fish her card out of my wallet and hand it to Marshall.

“Thank you, August. As soon as Rachel is ready, we’ll be out of your way.”

No sooner do those words leave his mouth, than Rachel is coming down the stairs with Babydoll in tow. I notice the smiles on their faces and wonder what they got up to while they spoke. As they come back into the living room, Rachel stands next to Marshall and Babydoll stands near me.

“I think that’s everything. We’ll be in touch, August. Thank you for your time.” Marshall reaches out to shake my hand and he smiles at Babydoll.

For a split second, my face betrays me as I slightly scowl at him smiling at her. But in the same breath, I steady myself and look at Rachel before shaking her hand.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” Rachel tilts her head at Babydoll and touches her shoulder.

I walk the detective and his partner out and once the door is closed, I turn and make my way back to the couch. My perfect little one sits with her leg under her, her big doe eyes settling on me.

“So, sweet girl, what did you and Rachel talk about?”

You took Rachel into your room and closed the door behind her. She looked around and smiled at the various photos and knickknacks you had scattered about the room. She sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to her. You sat down and she began to ask questions right away.

“So, you and your stepdad seem close. What was your relationship like with your mother?”

“My mom and I were never all that close. I was a lot closer with my Nanny, while she was here. Um, I guess I’m more of a Daddy’s girl. Mom was never satisfied with me, I don’t think. She always wanted me to be better. At sports, at school, at everything. She wasn’t my biggest fan. And then after the divorce, I felt even more distant from her. Dad was gone and I was left with her. Then August started dating Mom and it was weird in the beginning, but he ended up being a nice guy. And he listened to me, and he would stand up for me when Mom was on my case. I didn’t hate my mom. I just wished she liked me.” You looked away from Rachel to wipe a single tear that threatened to fall from your eye.

“Seems like August was your knight in shining armor.”

“Um, yeah. He cares about me. He cared about my mom too. He doesn’t treat me like a kid like Mom did. I don’t mean to make my mom seem all that bad. She was doing the best she could, I know that. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. I hope whoever did this to her rots in a jail cell forever. Sorry, I’m just angry and upset. My emotions have been a bit off the rails.”

“It’s perfectly normal to feel sad or livid or even bitter about death. With your relationship with your mother, I am not surprised your emotions are unsure of what to do. Sometimes, we might even feel like a weight is lifted off our shoulders when a certain person in our life is gone. Nothing of what you’re feeling is wrong.” Rachel tilted her head at you and smiled.

“Thanks.” You returned the smile and went back to fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Do you feel safe here with August? I only ask as a precaution. Having you in a place where you feel safe is most important.” She put a hand over yours and you froze. What did she mean by that?

“I feel more than safe with him. He’s never given me a reason not to trust him.” You suddenly felt defensive over August and you tried to keep yourself calm.

“Good. I’m glad you have him to help you through this trying time. But if you ever need to talk, or even if you just need someone to listen, you can call me.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and handed it to you.

“I don’t know if I’ll have anything to talk about but thank you.”

“Maybe something that you can’t talk to August about. Something that maybe only another woman would understand?”

“Oh. Ok. Um, I will let you know if anything comes up.” You stood and put the card on your desk and Rachel stood as well.

“Good. Any time, day or night. I’ll be available at that number. Use it whenever you need me. I think that’s all I need. Why don’t we go and rejoin the others?” Rachel went to your bedroom door and let you walk out first.

You’re not quite sure about how to feel about your interaction, but at least you felt like you defended August well and even made a new friend. She seemed nice enough anyway.

After she tells me everything that she and Rachel talk about, I feel a bit more at ease. Less like the detective thinks I murdered her mother, but more like his partner thinks something is going on between me and Babydoll.

Which there is, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Even if she did know, it isn’t illegal. She’s 18, a consenting adult, and she’s well taken care of. Not that I need to explain myself to anyone.

“Babydoll, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Anything at all. Daddy is here to listen and to keep you safe.”

“I know, Daddy. There is something...but, I don’t know.” She ducks her head and looks to the floor.

I put a finger under her chin, lifting it so she can look at me. “Anything, Babydoll. You ask and I’ll make sure it gets done right away.”

“Daddy, I...don’t want to live here anymore. All I can see around me is bad memories with Mom. Or old memories with...my father. And neither of them is in my life anymore. Does it make me a bad person that all I wanna do is move on? I feel weird even being in the living room, so close to where Mom died.” She plays with her fingers and looks down again.

“Let me make a few calls, Babydoll. I’ll see if we can be out of the house by week’s end, alright?”

“Thank you, Daddy. This means a lot.” She stands and wraps her arms around my neck in a tight embrace. I hug her back and lift her off the ground a bit and she giggles. The tuneful sound tickles my ears, and I am happy to be the cause of it.

I kiss her cheek and send her up to her room to deflate. In the next few hours, I have a house lined up for us on the nicer side of town. Three bedrooms, three baths, finished basement, big backyard with an in-ground pool. A perfect place to start a new life.

By the end of the week, we are finishing up moving all our stuff over to the new house. Other than a small crying fit that Babydoll has while she and I go through her parents’ belongings and decide what to keep and what to donate, the move was mostly hassle-free.

One morning after a run to clear my head, I was surprised to have a visit from Detective Marshall, and this time he only wanted to talk to me. I let him in and ask Babydoll to give us some privacy. We talk for a short while about moving from the old house and how Babydoll is doing. I ask him to cut to the chase and he nods and tells me Babydoll’s father’s body has been found.

He was discovered in a hotel room with substances in his system, along with a suicide note that included his confession to killing his ex-wife. At that bombshell, I’m visibly unnerved. Marshall reaches out a hand to my shoulder and apologizes for having to deliver this information.

He makes a sort-of backhanded comment that my former partner must not have liked that I took his place in his family. I responded by saying it wasn’t appropriate to make assumptions about dead men. Besides, as his ex-wife told me many times, they were rocky well before I stepped in. Marshall also stated that since Babydoll’s father had confessed to the murder this case was now officially closed, and we could go ahead with a burial ceremony.

I thanked him for relaying the news and escorted him to the front door. Before he left, he made sure I knew he would be keeping an eye on us. Seems the detective doesn’t trust me. I couldn’t care less, honestly. Let him try and pin this all on me.

I mean, he could pin it all on me if he wanted to do so. It's not like he would be wrong in doing so.

But I covered all my tracks and sealed them airtight. And with my record, they’d be ridiculous to come after me now that they have a confession and another dead body on their hands.

I wait until the detective drives off in his large black Ford F-Series, leave my sneakers at the door, and then make my way up to find Babydoll. I find her sprawled across the bed in the Master bedroom, sketching something in her notebook. Technically, this is my bedroom and hers is down the hall, but she sleeps with me most nights.

“What are you up to, Babydoll?” I ask, coming around the bed to sit next to her and peer into her notebook.

She shuts it before I can get a good look inside, “It’s a surprise, Daddy. You can’t see it yet.”

“Oh, I'm not allowed to see it yet, huh? Well, I guess Babydoll isn’t allowed to cum tonight then. How about that?”

Fuck, I loved to tease her. She always made the cutest little pouty faces.

“Daddy! No! Please may I cum tonight? I’ll do anything. Just, I was making you something special and I don’t wanna show you ‘til it’s finished. I don’t wanna ruin the surprise. Please?” There goes that little pouty lip of hers, it could make me agree to anything.

“Ok, fine, Babydoll. But you’re gonna cum when Daddy says to.”

“I can be a good girl for you, Daddy. I promise.”

“There’s my good girl,” I lay back against the pillows after I shuck my muscle tank, joggers, and socks, “Show me that sweet little pussy while Daddy gets his dick ready for you.” I take out my length and start to stroke it while she pulls her panties down, laying on her back so she can show me how she plays with herself.

Within minutes, her cunt is making those glorious squelching sounds I love so much while she fingers herself for me. I am beyond hard at this point and I am salivating just to get inside her.

“Come up here and lay back Babydoll. Let Daddy have his turn now.”

She removes her fingers from her wet snatch and slides next to me. I take off my boxers and my cock springs up and bounces against my abdomen. Leaning over her, I position my dick at her entrance and slowly slide in thanks to the wetness she has accumulated.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you are so tight. You feel so perfect around me.” I don’t stop until my balls are against her ass and our hips are flush together. I’ve molded this pussy to fit my shaft perfectly. Pulling out, I slam back in and am rewarded with her angelic little whimpers.

I don’t necessarily need to last long; I just need to make sure I get her to her peak before I reach mine. I find a steady rhythm thrusting in and out of her tight heat that has her keening in my ear. Her arms are around my neck and her legs are wrapped around my waist.

I can feel her core tightening around me, and I know she is close. Reaching a hand between us, I use my thumb to flick against her clit to push her over the edge. Her moans tell me everything I need to know.

“Cum for me, Babydoll. Soak my fucking dick, sweet baby.” Not even a second later, I feel the tell-tale signs of her orgasm as her folds flutter around me and the dam breaks loose. She screams out and I can’t help myself.

I fuck into her until I feel my balls draw up and then I slam into her heat one last time. I swear I was going to pull out and I almost did, but the warmth and the tight fit and my exhaustion from the run got the better of me. I came deep inside her as my cockhead sat against her cervix. I didn’t give a fuck about anything except the notion of her cunt holding me so perfectly as I blew my load.

The only sounds in the room were of us catching our breath.

Once I could move again, I lean up on my knees and pull back from where I collapsed on top of her. Holding her legs open, I let my length slip out. Soon, my massive load starts to rush out and I push all of it back inside her as she lazily smiles up at me. I smile at her then pull her into the bathroom with me to shower.

She’s barely able to stand in the shower and I mostly hold her steady. We both get clean enough and I help her dry off then dry myself off and we make it back to the bedroom and lay back down in bed. I tell myself it is best to talk to her now about all this instead of waiting and possibly upsetting her.

“Alright, Babydoll. Daddy just creampied you, I didn’t pull out this time. I came inside you. Now, in the morning, Daddy is gonna run and get you a plan B pill so that you don’t get pregnant. But I think it might be time that we get you on birth control so that Daddy doesn't have to worry about this kind of thing in the future.” I speak slowly and clearly so she knows that I have her best interest at heart.

“Ok, Daddy. Can we take a nap now? I’m exhausted.” She is already rolling over on her side and throwing an arm across my chest.

“Yeah, Babydoll, let’s take a nap.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the top of her head.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking of her tummy round and swollen with my kid and her tits heavy with milk. But I know that’s just emotion talking. As much as I want to get her pregnant, right now it is far too soon after everything with her parents.

Right?

Part V (coming soon)

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out, loves. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this. I still have more in me, I think.

**Tag List**

@winterschildren8 @raccoon-eyed-rebel @viking-raider @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @livisss @randomweirdoss @brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67 @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry @rebelangel1102 @mrs-solo-walker [Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁]

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boobabietch · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter IV: "Victoria O'Hara's Faces Her Toughest Opponent: Her Own Thoughts" | Diana Taurasi x OC

Warnings: nothing really just Victoria loosing her fucking mind but that’s about it (leave hg alone she’s trying her best)

A/N: I cannot tell y’all how much I freaking struggled writing this but anyways it’s here, enjoy. Honestly speaking I don’t know what to think but I’ll let you guys decide if y’all like it lmaooo. Remember that English is not my first language so if you find something wrong please tell me so I can change it asap, as always my likes, reblogs and comments(!!!) are highly appreciated and my ask box is always open. Love Sof :)

Making headlines masterlist

“Victoria? Yeah, she’s good."

I can’t stop.

"But God, she’s still a little baby!"

I won’t stop.

"There’s a difference between playing a good game and knowing how to win, and I think that we already know that she doesn’t know anything about the latter."

I can’t breathe.

“She’ll figure that out eventually... or not."

She won’t let me breathe.

I woke up to ragged breaths, my mind struggling to grasp the thin line between the real world and my dreamland. Every word, every mannerism, every inch of her image replayed in my mind, ever since that day, ever since that game. My teammates went home to their families, trying to enjoy their precious offseason time. I didn’t. How could I?

Wake up, train, pain, train, eat, sleep, repeat.

"Victoria? Yeah, she’s good."

No.

"But God, she’s still a little baby!"

No.

"There’s a difference between playing a good game and knowing how to win, and I think that we already know that she doesn’t know anything about the latter."

NO.

“She’ll figure that out eventually... or not."

FUCK, STOP IT.

It was like running in circles. My muscles ached, my lungs begged me for a few seconds to breathe.

Wake up, train, pain, train, eat, sleep, repeat.

"Victoria? Yeah, you’re good."

I felt her lips brush against my ear, her whispers feeling like a thousand needles piercing my eardrums.

"But God, you’re still a little baby!"

Her scent crept up my nose like deadly poison, making me hyper-aware of her closeness, of how her chest pressed against my side, caging me, trapping me in her warmth.

"There’s a difference between playing a good game and knowing how to win, and I think that we already know that you don’t know anything about the latter."

I can’t breathe.

"You’ll figure that out eventually... or not."

DIANA, I CAN'T BREATHE.

I woke up, my covers on the floor, tangled in a mess of fabric that matched my chaotic thoughts. The room was dark, the only light filtering through the blinds from the streetlights outside. It felt like the weight of her words pressed down on me, suffocating me in the silence of my room.

I glanced at my phone—2:43 AM. I couldn’t shake the feeling of inadequacy that had seeped into my bones. I thought the sting of her words would fade, but they lingered like an uninvited guest that refused to leave.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could see her, taunting me, that smug grin on her face as she delivered her harshest truths. This was supposed to be my time, my moment. I had worked so hard to prove myself, to rise above the expectations and the scrutiny. But all I felt was the nagging doubt creeping back in.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed and rubbed my eyes, willing myself to shake off the haze of sleep. The early hours before dawn were my favorite time to train, the world outside still, just as my thoughts should have been.

But as I laced up my sneakers, I couldn’t help but hear the echo of her voice in my mind.

"Victoria? Yeah, she’s good."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. The sun wouldn’t be up for hours, but I had my own battles to fight, starting with the one inside my head. I was done letting her live rent-free in my mind.

The court on my apartment complex was empty, just the sound of my shoes squeaking against the polished hardwood floor. I dribbled the ball, the rhythmic thud a familiar comfort. With each bounce, I channeled my frustration into my training, driving myself harder than ever before. Every drill felt cathartic. I poured everything into the shots I took, the sprints I completed, the reps I pushed through. But even as I fought to drown out her voice, it echoed louder with every shot that clanged off the rim.

“She’s still a little baby!"

I snarled at the ball, my anger fueling my drive. I was anything but a baby. I was a warrior, and I would show her what that truly meant. Hours passed, my body pushed to its limits. My lungs aching in every breath I took, forcing me to rest, begging me to stop, but I didn’t stop. Not until I felt every ounce of frustration boil over into determination. Finally, as the sun began to rise, casting a golden hue over the court, I stopped, panting heavily. I stood in the middle of the gym, surrounded by echoes of my hard work, and let the silence wash over me. I might not have won that game, but I was far from defeated.

April 22, 2018

Something you must know about A’ja and I is the bond we shared since our early days in college, we’ve been close since my sophomore and her freshman year, playing together at South Carolina. We had shared everything, blood, sweat, tears, losses and more than anything, wins.

Whether it was late-night study sessions, grueling conditioning drills, multiple love stories and eventual heartbreaks, you name it.

A’ja was always right there beside me. She was my rock, the person who always knew when to push me harder and when to tell me to chill out and breathe.

When I attended the 2018 draft and I found out my very best friend was going to be playing with me at the now Aces I was fucking thrilled.

But when I started practicing in training camp like my life depended on it after last season, she was the first to notice. And she wasn’t the type to let things go.

"Victoria? Yeah, she’s good."

The words echoed in my head as I threw another elbow into the defender's chest, ripping my way through the paint like a battering ram. The gym around me full with energy, the hardwood floor squeaking under our feet. But all I could hear was her voice, Diana’s voice.

I won’t stop. I can’t.

Sweat dripped from my brow, stinging my eyes, but I was locked in. Practice wasn’t just practice anymore. It was survival. Every drill, every scrimmage felt like a test, like I had something to prove. Not to my team, not to myself, just to her.

I glanced over at the rest of the squad. They were watching me. Kelsey raised an eyebrow, Sydney looked curious, and A'ja, just stood there, arms crossed, studying me like I was some puzzle she couldn’t quite solve.

"Yo, what’s up with V?" A’ja asked, adjusting her headband as we set up for another scrimmage.

"I mean, she’s been like this since the first day of camp," Kelsey muttered, keeping her eyes on me as I lined up for the free throw drill. "It's like she's on a mission or something."

"Mission?" Sydney snorted. "More like she's fucking possessed."

I took the shot. Nothing but net. The ball snapped against the floor, but I was already backpedaling, ready for the next rep. I didn't care who was watching. I didn't care about anything except my game. I wasn’t going to be the same player I was last season.

Not after what she said.

“But God, she’s still a little baby.”

“Yo, V," A’ja said during a break in one of our preseason practices, her voice low so the rest of the team wouldn’t overhear. "You’ve been going hard, even for you. Something up? Or you just trying to outwork me?" She flashed me that signature grin, but her eyes held a hint of concern.

I smirked, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my face. "Nah, just focused. You know how it is."

A’ja narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Nah, this ain’t regular ‘I’m focused’ Victoria. You’re grinding like you’ve got something to prove. You trying to tell me something?"

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide anything from her. "I’m good, A’ja. Just... trying to get better."

"You've always been trying to get better," she shot back. "This is different."

I shrugged, looking away. "Maybe I just need to be better than I was last season. Stronger. Faster."

She studied me for a moment, then nudged my shoulder. "This about that Taurasi stuff? From last year? 'Cause everyone’s talking about how you've been in beast mode since camp started."

I froze for a second. I hadn’t told anyone about how much Diana’s words had gotten to me, but A’ja saw through me like always.

"What’s the deal with you two anyway?" She asked, not letting it go. "You beefin’ or…?"

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

When she heard my dry response, she leaned in. "You don’t have to tell me everything, but... you know I got your back. Always."

I looked at her, my chest tightening with gratitude. A’ja always knew when to push and when to pull back, and today, she was giving me space. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still watching, still keeping tabs on me.

"Thanks, J," I muttered, using the nickname I had for her. "I’ll be fine. I just... need to get through this season."

She nodded slowly, as if she understood more than I was saying. "Just don’t wear yourself out before we even start, alright? We’re in this together."

"Always," I echoed.

Our bond was the one thing that felt stable, even when the rest of my life felt like it was spiraling out of control. A'ja kept me grounded, and I needed that more than ever, especially with Diana still roaming free in my head.

"O'Hara on Edge: Will Her Relentless Training Pay Off or Push Her to the Brink?"

June 10, 2018

"Victoria’s been putting in the work, hasn’t she?"

I watched her from the sideline as she moved with a kind of intensity that was hard to miss. She was laser-focused, every step, every shot with purpose. She wasn’t the player I’d faced last year. No, this Victoria was something else. It pissed me off.

Headlines had been swirling about the new-look Aces, with most eyes on A’ja Wilson, but I saw the shift in Victoria. I could see she only had one goal, and it was clear she was gunning for me. Fine. Let her try. I’d be waiting.

The game was intense from the start, both teams pushing each other to the brink. Victoria was everywhere, diving for loose balls, taking shots with confidence. She was playing like she had something to prove, and she was damn well proving it.

I couldn’t help but admire her fire, but I also couldn’t let her forget who she was up against.

"Keep an eye on O’Hara," I muttered to BG as we lined up for the inbound. "She’s got something fucked up in her today."

Brittney chuckled. "Looks like you’ve been living in her head rent-free."

I smirked, glancing at Victoria as she locked eyes with me from across the court. "Yeah, well… she’s about to learn a thing or two."

The game intensified, the back-and-forth growing more physical. I found myself matched up with Victoria more than once, the tension between us palpable. She played with fiery intensity, and every time she drove to the basket, I met her with resistance.

But she wasn’t backing down.

We collided during a fast break, and the ball went flying out of bounds. The referee’s whistle blew, but neither of us cared. Victoria shoved me, hard, and I pushed her right back.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I spat, stepping up into her space. Our chests nearly touched, the heat of our anger crackling between us.

"My problem?" she hissed, her chest rising and falling as she glared at me. "You. You’re my fucking problem."

"Oh, baby, you’re gonna have to try harder than that" The name slipped from my lips, a mixture of challenge and something I couldn’t quite define.

Her eyes widened for a split second, caught off guard. "Don’t call me that."

"What? Baby?"

The whistle blew again, but it didn’t matter.

The referee's voice was drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeat.

"You don’t want me calling you that? Too bad, baby. You’ve been chasing me this whole time, and now you’re acting all tough like you’re not playing into it." I stepped closer, our chests now pressed together, neither of us willing to back down.

We were nose to nose, chest to chest, and every inch of me wanted to either push her further or… something else. Something I wasn’t willing to admit.

Her nostrils flared as she clenched her fists, but I could see it, her composure was cracking. A slight tremble in her hands, her lips pressed together like she was biting back something sharp, or maybe something soft.

Victoria’s eyes flashed with that fire she’d been carrying all game, but there was something else lurking beneath it. I could feel it in the tension between us, the way our bodies were gravitating closer instead of pulling away. It was like the collision had unlocked something neither of us had the guts to admit was there all along.

"You think you’ve got me figured out, Taurasi?" she shot back, her voice low and dripping with disdain, but her breath hitched ever so slightly. I noticed.

I smirked. "I know I do."

That got her.

"You don’t know anything," Victoria growled, gripping my arm to prevent me from walking away, refusing to back down, but her words lacked the bite they once had. Her eyes told a different story now, one I recognized all too well.

There was no more space between us. Her hand was on my arm, gripping tight, like she needed something to ground her in the whirlwind of emotions swirling around us. I could feel the heat radiating off her, the flush of adrenaline mixing with… something else lingering in the air.

"Don’t I?" I asked softly, my voice barely a whisper now as I leaned in. Her breath hitched again, and I knew I had her. "You’ve been chasing me, baby. All this time."

Her grip tightened on my arm, and I could feel her pulse racing beneath her skin. She was breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling against mine as her resolve started to crumble. I could practically taste the frustration and anger rolling off her, but underneath it all, there was desire. Raw and unspoken, but there.

We stayed like that for a moment, just mere seconds, neither of us moving, the tension hanging heavy in the air between us. Then, slowly, I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. The intensity was still there, but her guard had slipped. There was vulnerability now, a flicker of something she was trying to suppress.

Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, but then an arm thrown over my chest pulling me back snapped us both out of it.

I turned my head slightly, seeing Brittney, dragging me out of the confrontation. "You two done, or do you need a room?"

Victoria immediately released the grip she still had on my arm and took a step back, her face flushing red. I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment, or maybe both. I watched as she shook her head and stormed off toward her bench, her shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension. But as I stood there, watching her disappear into the sea of players, I couldn’t help but smirk to myself.

"Yeah, I’ve got her," I muttered under my breath.

My heart was still racing as I sat on the bench, trying to put distance between myself and Diana. I could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, her voice whispering in my ear, taunting me. And the worst part? I wanted it. I hated how much I wanted it.

"Baby." The way she’d said it, so damn casually, like she owned me, like she knew exactly what buttons to push to unravel me.

I sat, my elbows resting on my knees and my head down, trying to catch my breath, trying to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to let her get under my skin like this. I wasn’t supposed to want her.

But I did.

———

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fists clenching as I tried to wrestle control back over my mind, my body. Everything felt wrong and right at the same time, and it was driving me insane.

"Vic, you okay?" A’ja’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I snapped my eyes open, quickly wiping at my face to make sure there were no tears. I didn’t want her to see me like this.

"Yeah, I’m good," I muttered, forcing a smile as I turned upwards to face her. She looked at me, eyebrows raised, clearly not buying it.

"You sure? Because you and Diana looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing punches, or making out."

I shot her a glare. "Don’t start, A’ja."

She held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I’m just saying. There’s a lot of tension there, and not all of it looks like the ‘I-hate-you’ kind."

"Whatever." I stood up pushing past her, heading toward my water bottle, but her words stuck with me.

Not all of it looks like the ‘I-hate-you’ kind.

No, it didn’t. And that was the problem.

"Rivalry Reaches New Heights: O'Hara and Taurasi Deliver an Unforgettable Game!"

June 5, 2018

EXTRA EXTRA!

“From Enemies to Allies? The All-Star Weekend Just Got a Lot More Interesting with O’Hara and Taurasi Both On Team Delle Donne!”

Dear god, you have to be fucking kidding me.

Requests are Open!

Masterlist

#lesbian #fanfic #boowrites★#diana taurasi #wnba x reader #diana taurasi x reader #diana taurasi x you #wnba basketball

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mp3chan · 2 years ago

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plz reblog/follow if u enjoy!

pairing: felix x afab!reader

tw: hair pulling, oral (reader receiving), MINORS DNI

wc: 1.1k

an: ive never written an afab! receiving oral scene before so im so sorry T~T

-> kinkmas 22’ masterlist!

“you want me to what?” you blurted out in surprise, panting heavily as felix pulled away in embarrassment.

“…pull my hair…” felix mumbled again, his cheeks turning a bright red, a color you only saw when he was either absolutely mortified or very out of breath, or completely aroused.

you were honestly kind of confused by his request. felix was so gentle and wanted sex to be tender and loving, he never understood why people liked it so rough anyway. so felix wanting you to be so seemingly rough with him all of a sudden was out of character from him.

“lixie…are you sure?” you double checked, wondering what would have caused this sudden change in what he wanted in bed. then it dawned on you.

felix came pouting into your apartment a few weeks ago out of the blue, immediately sinking into your lap. he told you that the boys were talking about their sex lives, again, and teased him, again, about how soft felix was. but felix never said anything other than that and never brought it up again.

“lixie is it because the boys teased you?” you asked him, wondering if you were gonna have to knock the boys heads together and have a stern talking to with them about this.

“no! no!” felix quickly denied, knowing you were thinking of talking to the boys about this. “something else happened…” he admitted.

you tilted your head and watched felix silently gather the courage to tell you what happened, thinking maybe one of the boys tugged his hair and some other teasing happened.

“well…we were getting our hair done and my stylist pulled my hair a couple times…..and when i looked down …” felix was stuttering at this point and somehow redder than when he started speaking.

“was your stylist -“ you started to ask if felix thought his stylist was pretty, which deep down you knew wasn’t true.

felix was a lover but never showed any real interest in anyone other than you. something all of his friends told you almost immediately after meeting him.

“no! i mean yes but not like you are…it was just the feeling of it and i was already thinking of you and then-“ felix started to nervously ramble away and would have kept on doing so unless you stopped him.

you kissed him deeply, hearing him gasp as you pulled away. “you got hard just thinking of me pulling your pretty hair?” you smirked, giggling when felix eagerly nodded.

“how do you want to do this baby?” you asked him, watching felix shimmy out from under you and then sit between your legs.

“can i eat you out?” felix was blushy all over again, you adored his freckles would almost get lost in his blushed cheeks.

“no need to ask lixie.” you smiled, slipping off your underwear and laying back on felix’s pillow and spreading your legs from him.

felix was quick, lips attaching to your thighs, kissing and biting his way up to your cunt. “so pretty.” he mumbled against your pelvis, shifting upwards so he could kiss above your core as well.

you sighed contentedly, snaking your fingers into felix’s long locks, tangling the strands around your fingers and gripping gently.

felix gasped against your core and looked up at you with wide eyes, silently begging you to keep going. you tightened your grip on him just a little, just enough to get the initial sting of hair being pulled in felix’s scalp.

just enough to get a whine out of him. felix immediately lurching forward, tongue pressing between your folds to lick over the expanse of your cunt.

“fuck…” you groaned, your other hand slipping into the mess of felix’s hair, using his locks as handles to hold him against your pussy.

felix mumbled something against your skin, assuming you understood it, and repeatedly licking up and down your cunt.

you were panting, barely able to make out the fact felix even said something. “lix…repeat….” you panted, pushing him away just enough for him to speak properly.

“harder….” felix panted himself, breathless from having his face shoved between your legs, though he was not complaining at all.

“sure?” you double checked, petting his head gently, curling your fingers into a fist with his locks inside them. waiting for felix to nod or say yes but tugging him back to your cunt.

“positive.” he smiled up at you, whining loudly when you tug his head roughly back to your pussy.

felix was more eager than usual, immediately shoving his tongue inside your entrance, earning a loud moan and harsh tug on his hair from you.

felix knew how to work you up quickly, pressing his tongue on those certain spots inside you that he knew drove you crazy. his lips rubbing against your clit, somehow pushing all the buttons now.

“oh god…felix…” you moaned, biting your lip to try to muffle yourself, not wanting to give the boys any other reasons to tease felix.

felix moaned loudly against your cunt, it been muffled by your flesh, but vibrating everything his mouth touched, exactly what you needed to finish.

“fuck!” you cursed, tugging felix’s locks roughly, hips bucking against his face as it was slicked over with your release.

felix moaned quietly against you once more as you began to calm down, his hands rubbing your thighs gently, trying to relax your muscles.

you held onto his hair for a bit, immediately letting go when you realized you were still holding onto to felix. “sorry…” you panted, hearing felix laugh above you, having already stood.

you managed to lift yourself up on your elbows to look at him, gasping quietly when you noticed his stomach stained with his own cum. you honestly hadn’t expected him to just get off solely on that alone.

“you came from just that?” you asked, not meaning to come off so blunt, but you were just surprised.

felix blushed bright red again, just like when he was telling you that he liked his hair being pulled in the first place.

“yeah…” he crawled over you, holding himself above you now. “you just taste so good and you somehow knew exactly how hard and where to pull my hair. it felt so good.” he muttered against your shoulder, placing a gentle kiss against your skin.

“im glad lix….i was worried i went too hard.” you whispered, guiding his face back to yours, kissing his lips softly.

“love you.” felix muttered, completing laying on top of you, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, content to just fall asleep there.

“love you too.” you groaned, not even trying to shove him off. you were pretty much too tired to do so. “and your pretty hair.” you chuckled.

“shut upppp!” felix whined dramatically trying to nuzzle further into you and sending you into a fit of giggles.

#mp3chanwrites #felix x y/n #felix x reader #felix smut #felix imagines #felix scenarios #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz x y/n #skz scenarios

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theladyofdeath · 1 year ago

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Lady Death's Lover {IV}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: And so it begins. Enjoy! Thank you to those of you who like, reblog, and/or leave comments! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

My Loving Sisters,

Very well, Feyre, I will not ask about Isaac but I encourage you to keep an open mind as you attend town functions. There are so many men out there and now you are able to meet them all before making the life-altering decision of marriage.

Remember your worth and do not settle for less. Even if you do not find a man that is drowning in riches, try to find someone you love and who loves you just as much in return. Find someone who cherishes you and makes you feel complete. Find someone who you want to be the first face you see in the morning and the last you see before you close your eyes at night. Find someone who makes you laugh and who understands you better than you understand yourself.

Promise me you will do this? Both of you! Find someone who brings you so much happiness you can hardly bear it.

I love you both,

Nesta

“No drinking, not even a sip.”

I nod as I follow Tomas down the hall, towards the dining room.

“Tonight, you represent me. I’m willing to make Lord Nazari a deal and if he’s not impressed by you, he’ll refuse me, which is unacceptable. So, you will sit at the table, speak only when spoken to, and smile. Is that understood?”

“Of course,” I say, because there is no other answer. “I will not disappoint.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t look at me again until we’re standing outside of the dining room and he offers me his arm. I slide mine through his, then the doors are being opened and we make our way inside.

The long table is decorated beautifully, covered in elaborate floral centerpieces and our finest dinnerware. There are only three chairs placed, one at each end and one in the middle that Lord Cassian stood behind.

He bowed his head as we entered, and we returned the gesture. Tomas led me to my seat before rounding to the opposite end and I sat first, then the two gentlemen. For a moment, we sit in silence, but then Tomas breaks it.

“Thank you for joining us,” he says, and smiles at me as if we’re the world’s happiest couple. I attempt to smile back, but I fear it comes out more like a grimace. “I hope you like lamb.”

Cassian nods. “Of course. Thank you for the invitation.”

“I have some business I’d like to discuss with you but, of course, that can wait until after dinner. The table is not meant for such talk, especially not with a lady present.” Tomas smiles in my direction once more. The smile on my face is starting to hurt. “Oh. I suppose I should introduce you. Mr. Nazari, this is my wife, Lady Nesta Mandray.”

Lord Cassian’s eyes flicker to me and I catch his gaze. He doesn’t look like he did the other night. Physically, he’s the same, but his eyes…they don’t hold as much light, there’s no humor. He nods politely. “A pleasure, my Lady.”

“The pleasure is mine,” I respond, and we hold each other’s gaze for another minute then our butler is entering, announcing our meal.

Food is laid out before us, a meal that I would have once killed for. There’s far too much for us to eat, just the three of us, and when the wine is brought out I notice that there is no wine glass by my place. Just a drinking glass, filled with water.

I take a deep breath and sip the clear liquid as the wine is poured for the men. Lord Cassian’s eyes flick to me once more. I set my water glass down.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins as I start to feel my plate, and my name on his mouth is…intriguing. “You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” I say, even though I’m not the one that keeps up with it. I run it, of course, but I do none of the hard work. “You’ve caught it before the transformation. We’ll be holding a ball soon.”

“Surely you’ll come,” Tomas says, cutting his meat. “From what I hear, you don’t miss social events very often.”

Cassian clears his throat, eyes still in my direction. I can’t help it. I look back, meet his eye and a bit of that humor has returned. “I do enjoy a dance. Socializing.”

“And the ladies of Velaris?” Tomas asks, taking a bite of his food, making an attempt at friendly conversation even if no one here is a friend.

I’m still watching him.

He’s still watching me.

“The ladies are the same season after season,” he says, eyes finally breaking from mine as he seasons his vegetables. “None of them interest me too much.”

“Not even the Lady Morrigan?” Tomas asks, and I hate to say that I’m interested in the answer. I saw how Lord Cassian and Lady Morrigan danced together at the last event, how they conversed and laughed and seemed to truly enjoy one another. He caught me watching them and I made myself scarce. I couldn’t help but watch them, though, couldn’t help but envy how comfortable they were with one another and how much it seemed like they liked each other. It was so…nice.

“I’ve known Lady Morrigan for most of my life,” he admits, and I look away as he smiles fondly at his food. “But, she is a friend and nothing more. To pursue her would feel like pursuing my sister.”

“Do you have any sisters?” I ask, then shoot a look to Tomas to make sure he doesn’t care that I’m speaking out of line. I am only meant to speak when spoken to, per his earlier request, but he doesn’t seem to care. At least, not now. Hopefully I am not punished later. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’m an only child,” he says, but he doesn’t seem too distraught about it. “And you?”

“I have two sisters,” I say, taking my first bite of food at last. “They live in a village a few days ride from here. Both younger. My sister Elain is entering society this year, but my youngest sister, Feyre, will wait a year or two. Technically, she’s old enough, just barely, but not quite ready yet.”

The words rush out of me and I’m not sure why. Perhaps I just want to talk about something familiar. Tomas never asks about my family, about anything at all that involves me, really, he just sends them money and assumes all is well.

“Is your sister excited?” Lord Cassian asks, and he seems truly intrigued. “To enter society?”

“Well, their society is much different from Velaris’,” I confess. “The village is fairly small, but there are plenty of good men with decent fortunes. She’ll be able to find a good husband that will care for her, I have no doubt.”

“Well, I wish her all the best,” he says, taking a sip of his wine.

I wish I had wine.

“Thank you,” I say, and I realize I mean it.

The small talk continues as we eat. We don’t learn much about one another, but I suppose that’s not what small talk is for. Nonetheless, I find that I’m actually enjoying the company. At least, I don’t completely loathe the situation and wish I were anywhere else, which is my usual response. Once we’re finished, Tomas stands and I know my dismissal is coming.

“Mr. Nazari, if you’d like to join me in my study.”

I stand, and Lord Cassian waits for me to stand before he does so himself. He bows his head. “Thank you for the meal, my Lady.”

I nod, making a note to pass his praise for the evening onto our staff. Tomas extends a hand to the now open doors at the far end of the dining room and Lord Cassian watches me for another moment before they leave.

Once I’m alone, I round the table and go to where the half-emptied bottle of wine sits. I drink straight from the bottle and when I set it back down, I look to where our butler stands.

He gives me a small smile and a bow. “Your secret is safe, my Lady.”

“Thank you, Drakon,” I say quietly before making my exit.

Instead of going to my bedroom I find my way outside. It’s a nice night, the air is still warm but the breeze cool. The stars are out in their full glory and, assuming Tomas will be distracted with Lord Nazari for quite some time, I decide to go for a walk.

I don’t go far, but I make my way into the grass and cross through a series of rose bushes. I sit on the grass, not caring that it’s not ladylike, and look up at the sky. The Velaris starlight is something special. It’s something anyone can get lost in, no matter who you are. I found myself captivated my first night here and I’m just as captivated now as I was then. Lying back, I get comfortable. I let the little sounds of the great outdoors calm me while I lose myself in the stars. I hear the crickets and the frogs, the owls in the distance. It’s peaceful, which is ironic considering it’s only a handful of feet from the prison that is the home I share with my husband.

I don’t know how much time passes. I drift off for a little while, but before sleep can claim me, I’m picking myself up and dusting myself off. I only make it a few steps back towards the side door before a tall, dark figure rounds the side of the house.

As soon as he’s around the corner, Lord Cassian stops and looks around, then scratches the back of his neck.

“Are you lost?”

He jumps, and the sight is so humorous that I can’t help but laugh.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m usually not standing out in the dark garden, waiting for our guests to leave,” I say as he turns to face me and scratches the back of his neck, once more. The gesture suits him, even if it’s ungentlemanly. “Although, I do wonder why you’re walking around the side of my house in the middle of the night?”

He chuckles and I swear I see a hint of pink on his cheeks. “Mr. Mandray and I just wrapped up our conversation. He offered to have my horse brought around, but I told him I could see to him myself. Told me the stables were this way, but now I’m thinking they’re not.”

I shake my head, trying to suppress my grin. “Opposite direction. Tomas’ directional skills, especially when intoxicated, which I’m sure he is, are a little off.”

“Even at his own home?” He asks, and he takes a step closer to me. Even in the dark, the starlight gives us just enough light so that I can see him clearly. I can see his humored expression, the light in his eye, the way his hair is falling out of the little strap that had been holding it back.

“Let’s just say he doesn’t go to the stables himself,” I say, crossing my arms, suddenly feeling far too seen. “Which, I’m surprised you are. Are lords meant to retrieve their own horses?”

“This one is,” he says, simply, stopping a healthy distance away.

We fall into silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s nice.

“Look, I know this is a strange request, but could you not mention to my husband that you found me out here?” I ask. He wouldn’t be pleased, both that I’m outside at such an hour or that I’m outside with a man that isn’t him. Either way, I wish for it to remain between the two of us.

He frowns, but nods with no questions asked. “Of course. I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you,” I say, and rock back on my heels. “I should get inside. Do you think you can find the stables okay?”

“I suppose I’ll circle the house until I find it,” he says, and as I step closer, I can smell the smoke and liquor radiating off of him. I never understood why drinking was a necessary component of making a business deal, but it always seems to be.

I cannot ignore how the distance between us has grown smaller. In fact, I’m far too aware. Every inch of me is aware. “Are you sure you’re okay to ride? I can ask the staff to prepare a room—”

“No,” he says, not unkindly. “I promise I look worse than I feel. I’ll be quite alright. Thank you.”

“Okay.”

We fall into that silence again, and I hadn’t realized how close we had drifted. Suddenly feeling inappropriate, I formally bow my head. “Goodnight, my Lord. Travel safely.”

I go to step around him but he steps in front of me and I remember our night at the ball, when he did the same thing. Then, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough after hearing who my husband is.

“Why are you doing business with Tomas?” I blurt out, and I can tell he’s surprised by my question.

“Good opportunity,” he says, shrugging. “Does it bother you?”

“Why would it?” I ask, perhaps a little too quickly.

He doesn’t answer me, but he’s watching me and I feel that’s worse, for him to be staring at me so intently, so curiously, in complete and utter silence.

“I should…” I clear my throat, my voice quiet. “I should go inside, my Lord.”

“Of course,” he whispers. “My apologies for distracting you.”

“You didn’t—”

“Goodnight, Lady Nesta,” he says, and there it is, my name on his tongue once more.

Neither of us moves. I don’t know what’s happening, can’t make sense of the feelings inside of me as I stare up at this man, this stranger. Maybe it’s just because he’s the complete opposite of Tomas in every way, but I can’t convince my feet to move, even though I should.

“Goodnight,” I say, at last, but my feet remain planted. Then, I say once more, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I convince my feet to move at last, convince my eyes to leave his even though every ounce of my body is protesting. It’s been too long since a man has spoken to me like I’m human, since someone has looked at me the way he’s looking at me. It’s compelling, hypnotic, and I hate the fact that I don’t want it to end.

But it must.

This is inappropriate. I know it’s inappropriate, know that a woman with a husband does not stand within a foot of another man, especially not alone, especially not in the dead of night, especially not a lady.

And we were doing all those things. Standing so close we could touch with nothing but the starlight as a chaperone.

As I turn away from him and walk towards the house, I feel a certain heaviness creep into my spirit that wasn’t there while we stood so close together. That realization is why I open the side door, step inside, and don’t look back.

#regency au #period au #19th century au #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

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