#just been seeing a lot of “oh but i thought ___ about shifting was correct”

[discordiansamba]

avatar aang and katara are waiting for him outside the lotus blossom.

lee hangs up his apron and says goodnight to the owner. it will be sad to leave the lotus blossom behind when he moves to yu dao, but he's sure he'll love his new tea shop just as much. there's not really much more he wants from life other than serving tea. he thinks about how much more complicated his life would become if he became a prince, and is confident he's made the right choice.

"avatar aang," lee bows in greeting, "-it is good to see you again."

avatar aang smiles at him. good to see you again too. also you really don't have to bow to me, lee. you're a prince, you know?

"actually," lee says, "-i've given it a lot of thought. i'm staying like this."

avatar aang and katara exchange a glance. you're... sure?

lee nods. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. you'll have to apologize to fire lord iroh for him. he loves who he is too much to go back to someone who didn't feel the same way about himself. he knows they probably won't understand, but being brainwashed is probably the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"i think," lee smiles, "-that prince zuko is happy being me too."

katara frowns. well... if you're certain. we did promise to let you choose, and we can't go back on our word. lee bows to them both, and thanks them for letting him choose. he apologizes for all the trouble he caused them when he was prince zuko. they won't need to worry about it again. his loyalties lie with the earth kingdom now.

"i mean," avatar aang chuckles, "-you are still fire nation."

"i was fire nation," lee corrects with a smile, "-but i'm earth kingdom now. i'm going to fully become lee one day, after all. there's no need to think about who i used to be before."

avatar aang and katara exchange a look. katara frowns at him, asking him if he's feeling okay. he's acting a little... strange. lee tilts his head. no, he feels fine. he's just happy to have the weight of this decision off of his shoulders. he bows to them one more time, offers them his thanks again, and heads home.

his father is waiting for him at his apartment. lee smiles at him and gets started on dinner for them both. he tells his father that he told the avatar his choice, and they'd accepted it. his father ruffles his hair and tells him that he's proud of him.

lee asks when they can leave for the fire nation. he can't wait to have his own face. his father laughs and tells him they can leave as early as tomorrow, if that's what he wants. lee nods- then frowns. it feels like there's something he's forgotten in his excitement.

oh. jin.

"what about jin?" lee asks. "is she coming with us? what if she doesn't like me with a new face?"

"don't worry," his father assures him, "-once you get your new face, i can make her think you've always had it."

lee... pauses. he looks at his father. the man is smiling at him. lee has missed him so much. everything was so confusing when he he was gone, but since his visit this afternoon, he's felt more certain of himself than ever. it's like he was never troubled at all.

...it's like he was never troubled at all.

lee swallows the odd feeling back, and finishes making dinner. they eat together and chat like old times. he tells him about his friend's tea shop. it sounds like a great place, and lee's looking forward to working there. his cleans up, and bids his father goodnight. he'll come see him again tomorrow morning.

lee starts packing.

his hands hover over the fire nation clothing, hesitating. he doesn't need them anymore, he guesses. it never looked right on him anyways. once he got an earth kingdom face, it would look even less so. lee holds up the red and gold tunic and stares at himself in the mirror.

he sees himself reflected back.

...that's strange. he likes his reflection. he's never had trouble seeing himself in the mirror. but that can't be right. isn't he getting a new face because he doesn't like having prince zuko's? he'd spent the rest of his shift this afternoon imagining what his new face would look like. he'd finally complete his father's experiment.

he'd be a new person.

...he should be happy, right? he should be- and yet there's tears welling up in his good eye. he doesn't understand. hadn't he wanted this?

he steps back from the mirror, and with a dawning sense of horror, he realizes that he doesn't. he'd only decided to change his face after speaking with his father, and he doesn't... he doesn't even remember that conversation. that's not right. he should remember it. but if he can't...

...spirits. he'd almost- he needed to leave. he needed to get out of here right now. he takes the fire nation tunic and the rest of his belongings, and crams them into his pack. his father might be watching the front door. he leaves through the window. he has to get to avatar aang and katara. they can't have left the city yet.

he's been brainwashed again.

jin's waiting for him after work the next day.

lee hangs up his apron, says goodnight to the owner, and goes to meet her. she meets his eyes, but her expression is unreadable as she asks if she can talk to him. he takes her back to his apartment so they can have some privacy, and makes her some tea.

she asks what she should call him.

"lee," he says after a moment, "-it's still who I think of myself as."

jin hums, taking a sip of tea. lee does the same. they sit in tense, awkward silence for a long moment before jin sighs, setting her teacup down with a loud thud. she asks him if he meant what he said. that he really does love her. that it's not just... something he was manipulated into thinking he did.

lee tells her he does.

he also admits he may only love her because of who he is now. but who he is now made that choice on his own. she makes him happy, and he can't think of a life without her... but if she wants to break up with him, he'll understand. he just hopes she doesn't regret dating him entirely.

jin just huffs. she points out that when she'd first caught his interest, he'd still been zuko. she says in hindsight him being a firebender makes so much sense. she'd always wondered how he'd lit the lanterns so quickly during their first date. lee blinks, because he doesn't remember that at all-

-it must show on his face, because jin's face falls.

"you don't remember that, do you?"

"i remember our date," lee tells her, "-i just... remember the lanterns being lit when we got there."

she's silent for awhile, then asks him if he can show her. lee breathes in and breathes out, holding his hands out in front of him like lady mai had shown him. it takes a bit of concentration, but a tiny flame eventually flickers to life in his hands. jin stares at it, transfixed and-

-calls it cute. it's so tiny.

lee flushes. it's the best he can do! he doesn't remember how to firebend. up until a month ago, he really did think he was a nonbender. she looks up at him and asks him that if he knows all this, why was he still brainwashed? you something about it being possible to reverse it. lee shakes his head and says he just... hasn't made up his mind yet.

"i didn't choose to become lee," he says, "-but i'd like to be the one to choose if I stay as him or not."

jin frowns, and admits she has trouble wrapping her head around the idea of wanting to stay brainwashed. lee laughs. yeah. he can see how from the outside looking in, his situation is terrifying. he can't even fully deny that it is. but he's had a lot of happiness as lee, that he doesn't think he ever had as zuko. so they idea of going back...

...it's scary. he doesn't know zuko. lee is comfortable. familiar.

jin holds his hands. she tells him that whatever he chooses, she'll support him. her lips twitch in a playful grin as she jokes about having the chance to brag about dating a prince. she wonders if she'd look any good in fire nation red. lee laughs and tells her he's pretty sure she'd look good in anything.

lee's face falls. he tells her that if he decides to go back to being zuko, there's a good chance he might fall out of love with her in the process. she looks hurt by that- but then makes him promise that if he does, he'll at least let her break up with him. after all, how many girls from the middle ring can say with their whole chest that they broke up with a prince?

"whatever you do," jin says, "-don't let that decide for you what you want. you make me happy, lee. I want you to be happy too."

lee nods. jin asks him how long he has to make up his mind... and stares at him when he confesses he only has until the end of the week- and that he still has no idea who he wants to be.

cutting it a little close there, aren't you?

...yeah. he can't deny that.

(he ends up making dinner for himself and jin. they sit next to each other. he tells her about the beach on ember island, and she listens with wide-eyed fascination. there were no beaches in ba sing se. she makes him promise to take her there one day- and you're not getting out of it if zuko falls out of love with me.

okay, he says, we promise.)

[stickeykeys]

maybe this is a lil controversial, but i feel like as a community we just need to... just stop thinking that stuff we read about shifting is bible, if that makes sense.

you can read advice and follow it, of course!! following advice is great, but shifting is built on the principle of intention and you're own mind. nothing governs that but yourself.

there are no rules, you can do whatever you want, just set your intention.

you don't need a safe word, because if you set the intention you will come back to your cr.

you don't need to script beause if you set an intention of what you want to happen, it will.

as long as you have the intention to shift somewhere, you will. that's as simple as it is, that's the basic principle.

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa: *writes a single throwaway line in one chapter of Lost and Found that is never referenced again*

Me, completely randomly and with no prompting: Alright, bet–

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[pitchsidestories]

the favourite II Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2349

a/n: hi everyone, this oneshot is a longer one, so get cozy. <3

The golden hour has just begun in the beautiful city of Barcelona, you were finally done with correcting your student’s paper, so you were able to continue reading the book on the sofa, which was the perfect way to clock off of work in your opinion.

The happy mood slightly shifted when you thought back to the phone call you had with your girlfriend earlier that day. Aitana told you she was injured and that she was coming back home this evening.

You felt guilty, because partly you were happy about the fact that your lover was about to return to you, this year has been a lot for her work wise, and you rarely got time to spend together as a couple, apart from you trying to be there in the stands at every home game or final. It didn’t surprise you that the midfielder’s body was exhausted from all of this.

On the other hand, Aitana loved playing football so much, so it would be hard to not see her doing what she was so passionate about. You realized reading at this point was impossible, there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

“Hola, mi amor.”, you greeted her warmly, as you heard her opening the front door.

“Hola.”, the football player replied in a cheerful tone which tried to hide the disappointment the brunette felt.

Immediately you jumped off the sofa to give her a much-needed hug. “How are you? I know you had to leave national team camp early.”

“It’s nothing too bad, don’t worry.”, Aitana reassured you with a weak smile on her lips.

“But I do worry a little.”, you admitted concerned while running a hand through your girlfriends open hair, something you knew she liked, because it had a soothing effect on her.

You caught her looking at the papers which were still laying on your kitchen table, so you added quickly:” Sorry, I’ll take those to my office.”

“No, it’s fine. Stay, you’re busy.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“I’m actually done with going through them. My students wrote about their role models, and I spotted some familiar names quite a few times.”, you remembered, smiling fondly at the memory.

“Oh really? Like whose names?”, Aitana looked up curiously.

“Like Patri, Alexia, Salma, but you’ve been mentioned the most. Wait-”, you counted them off on your fingers. You proudly showed your girlfriend the texts which were about her.

“I didn’t know your students cared so much about football, specifically women’s football.”, the midfielder muttered amazed, while devouring the handwritten pages.

“I know, the view definitely changed in recent years… Remember when we were at school and no one seemed to care about women’s football?”, you asked, thinking back to the time when you and Aitana met for the first time. You were best friends in school, always stuck together. Until things changed in your teenage years.

Unhappily, your girlfriend put the papers back on the table: “They always said that we can’t play with the boys.”

“Or that we would never be as good as them.“, you added. “Which I was okay with because I always preferred books over balls, but I admired you for not listening to these voices.”

You had loved a good football match when you were younger, but you never had the same burning desire to play that Aitana possessed.

“That’s all I ever wanted to do, kick a ball around.”, Aitana shrugged and even though a lot had changed since your school days, you felt reminded of the younger Aitana. The quiet girl that defiantly fought for her right to play football.

You smiled softly: “I know, and it got you very far.”

“I never knew it would.”, Aitana replied, clearly lost in her own thoughts about her career.

“But it did.” You took a deep breath. The idea that had been floating around your head since you read the papers started to take form on the tip of your tongue. “Could you do me a favour?”

“Sure, which one?”, your girlfriend answered quickly.

“Maybe you could visit my class to talk a bit about your life as a football player? It would mean the world to them. You’re clearly one of their favorites.” You nodded in the direction of the pages piled on the table.

Aitana did not answer. She stared at you speechlessly until she found her voice a second later: “Your students want to see… me?”

She looked so surprised that you had to bite back a laugh. “Yes, they would love that.”

Aitana beamed: “Sure. Of course I’m coming.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You leaned over for a quick kiss: “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“But for now…”

Your girlfriend raised her eyebrows in expectancy: “Yes?”

“Cuddles?”, you asked innocently, ready to wrap your arms around her.

“Please.”, she smiled. You threw yourself against her body, tightly hugging her.

Laughing, Aitana let herself fall backwards against the armrest of the sofa so you could lay on top of her.

She started to run her fingers across your back: “This is nice.”

Your girlfriend paused for a moment, before adding with a smirk on her lips:” But not as comfortable as in our bed.”

“You’re right let’s go to our bedroom.”, you agreed as you helped her getting into a standing position.

“Coming.”, Aitana answered. With a soft sigh the midfielder landed on your double bed.

“This is so much better.”, she declared, eyes closed. The bedding felt pleasantly cool underneath her body while you laid down next to her.  

“Perfect.”, you mumbled. Grinning you continued:” Do you want me to read out to you a little?”

“Sure.”, the football player nodded, there was nothing in the world she found more soothing than listening to your voice.

“Okay.”, you happily obliged to it. After a couple of pages, you realized that your girlfriend was becoming sleepy. Quietly you put your book on the nightstand.

“Sleep well, Tana.”

“Night.”, Aitana whispered before inevitably sleep took it’s hold over her.

In the mornings you were always the first of you two to get up, as you needed to be ready for school. Much to your own surprise you realized that the midfielder was awake too:” Good morning.”

“Morning, amor.”, she replied, before placing a sweet kiss to your mouth.

“You know that you can still stay in bed, right?”, you muttered blushing. After all those years the brunette still had that effect on you.

“I know, but I couldn’t sleep anymore.”, Aitana admitted smiling sheepishly.

“I guess I’ll make two cups of coffees this morning.”, you remarked.

“Please.”, your girlfriend responded. When the dark-haired woman was holding the warm drink in her hand, she thanked you with another kiss.

“You’re welcome.”, you replied, enjoying one of the rare mornings you both had together.

You wished you could enjoy that moment for a little bit longer but looking at the clock on the wall you cursed under your breath:” Oh shit, I need to go!”

“Have fun. I’ll see you later.”, Aitana winked at you.

“Bye.”, you blew her a kiss, before making your way out of your home, ready for another day with your classes which were all dear to your heart.

The day arrived when Aitana was about to meet them for a lesson, you beamed excited at her:” Ready, love?”

“Ready.”, she nodded, your girlfriend was glad to have some distraction from her injury for at least the upcoming two hours. For a second you pressed her hand encouragingly, before leading her into the classroom.

“Good morning, everyone. Today we’ve a very special guest.”, you announced cheerfully.

A young girl with blonde hair called Imma sat in the front row and gasped audibly: “Oh my god, Aitana!“

She stared at the football player with widened eyes.

Your girlfriend smiled politely before introducing herself: “Hi, I’m Aitana Bonmatí. I’m a football player for FC Barcelona.“

“Can we ask her some questions?“, Jordi asked curiously. You knew that the lanky boy had vast interest in all kinds of football, no matter if the players were male or female.

You nodded, watching as his eyes sparkled in excitement: “Sure, that’s why she came.“

“Go ahead.“, Aitana prompted, trying to get the children to ask questions.

Imma raised her hand hesitantly: “From where do you know, Miss y/l/n?“

Your girlfriends gaze subconsciously drifted into your direction. You shared a smile for a split second.

With an eye-roll, Jordi complained: “That’s such a boring question, Imma!“

“I think that’s a very good question. We went to school together years ago.“, Aitana answered the question truthfully.

Jordi snorted: “Was she reading books back then too?“

You had to stop yourself from telling him, once again that reading was not only good for them but also a lot of fun. You tried to encourage your class to read every chance they got.

Before you could say anything, Aitana grinned: “Oh yes. She always loved books.“

“But I can play a bit too.“, you added innocently.

“Yeah. She’s pretty good.“, your girlfriend had to agree.

For once, Jordi was silent, looking from you to Aitana and back. A challenging smile appeared on his face: “We need to see that after class. But how did it feel to win the Ballon d’Or?“

“Amazing. It was a great honour but I couldn’t have done it without my team.“

“And you also won the Champions League!“, a red-haired girl interrupted with a big toothy grin.

“Yes, that was amazing too.“, the football player nodded.

Julias cheeks turned almost as red as her hair from exhilaration: “So cool!“

“I’m lucky to have such a great team around me.“, you heard Aitana say and you almost grimaced at how humble she was in front of your students.

Julia immediately followed with the next question, not allowing your girlfriend a break: “Do you have a favourite teammate? And is it Rolfö?“

Aitana laughed, surprised by the question: “I have a lot of favourite teammates. And Frido is one of them. She’s great, very sweet.“

“Like a team mum?“, Imma piped up.

“A bit, yes.“

“That’s cute.“, Imma commented happily.

“But we have a lot of people who can step up as team mums.“, the midfielder continued.

“Aitana, how’s your injury?”, Jordi changed the subject to a more serious one.

“It’s not too bad. They just wanted to be careful, so it doesn’t get worse.”, the midfielder waved it off in a reassuring way.

“Oh, good.”, he sighed relieved.

 “So now I’m here and can hang out with you guys.”, Aitana clapped enthusiastically her hands.

“Exactly.”, you smiled proudly at her.  

“Sorry, did you want to continue, amor?”, your girlfriend looked at you expectantly.

“No, I just wanted to say that the class is ending soon.”, you shook your head.

“Any more questions?”, the football player turned her attention to your students again.

“Can we play now?”, Jordi asked her innocently.

“Of course. Let’s go and play some football.”, Aitana agreed, her eyes mirroring the excitement of the little boy who was very thrilled to play with a Barcelona player.

On her way out, she couldn’t help but to tease you in front of the children:” Let’s see how good your teacher still is.”

“I’ll show you!”, you laughed.

“Prove it.”, the midfielder gave you a playful challenging look.

One of your students was handing you the football, so you did one of the football tricks you still knew before kicking it into the empty goal, making the boys and girls erupt into a loud cheer.

“See? She didn’t forget anything.”, Aitana said, her voice full of admiration.

“Wow.”, Jordi followed your moves with the football amazed.

“Not, bad, right?”, Aitana questioned him amused.

“Not as good as you are though.”, you whispered into her ear.

“Oh, if you got paid to play football all day, you’d also be good.”, she stated firmly.

“Yes, but I love my job, just look at their eyes.”, you replied, your girlfriend did what you asked her to do. The girls and boys faces lit up while playing football in front of one of their idols.

Afterwards she looked back at you in adoration: “I only must look in your eyes. You were made to work with children. They adore you.”

You weren’t even a big Taylor Swift fan, but your friends and the older students were and there was a line in one of her songs, which you quietly sung to her, before you looped the ball over the midfielder:” You know how to ball, I know Aristotle.”

“Excuse me?! What was that?!”, Aitana’s mouth fell wide open.

“I don’t know how I did it either!”, you confessed.

“That was impressive as hell!”, Jordi told you.

With sparkling eyes, Imma demanded: “Do it again!“

“Yes, do it again.“, Aitana smirked.

“Like this?“, you asked before trying to play the ball over the worlds best female footballer again. This time, you were less lucky and the ball came at the perfect height for Aitana to easily head it back to you.

“Oh no, it didn’t work.“ Julia sounded slightly disappointed.

You shrugged, trying to use the opportunity to teach your students a valuable lesson: “The good thing is, one can always try again.“

Aitana instead winked at them: “Don’t worry, I’ll teach her at home.“

Imma frowned in confusion: “At home? Do you two live together?“

“Are you stupid? She called her amor earlier!“, Jordi groaned.

The smaller girls eyes widened: “She did?“

“Yes!“

Aitana smiled at you, subtly linking your pinkies together: “She’s my best friend but also my girlfriend.“

“Oh.“ Julia made a delighted sound.

Jordi rolled his eyes: “They love each other, it’s so obvious, girls.“

And then he was back to kicking the ball around. Julia and Imma quickly chased after him, trying to get the ball.

You and your girlfriend stood in comfortable silence, still holding hands and watching the children run around you.

In this moment you were hit with the realization that this was exactly all you ever wanted from life.

[imfinereallyy]

“The demon is back.” Eddie pokes into Steve’s side to wake him up.

“Babe, please go back to sleep.” Steve shoves his face into the pillow, making his voice muffled.

“Steeeeve.” Eddie whines, “It’s really there I swear this time. And I locked the door so I know it’s the demon again. Nothing else can get inside.”

“Eddie.” Steve squishes his face even deeper into the mattress. “You do this at least once a week. I love you; I do. But I never look because there is no demon. And every morning, you wake up fine. So please, go back to sleep.”

“What if I promise never to mention it again if it’s not really there? Will you look then?” This time Eddie’s voice wavers, his actual terror showing.

Steve sighs and shifts his head to look at Eddie, “This is really freaking you out, huh?” He says it kindly. Steve can tell this is serious to Eddie. So even if he doesn’t believe it, Eddie does. And what’s important to Eddie is important to Steve.

Eddie nods back furiously.

“Okay, I’ll look.” Steve shifts his head towards the other side, where the chair by the window sits. There, sitting in that corner is a dark shadowy figure. “Oh.”

“See! I told you! Demon! Oh god, it’s gonna get us.” Eddie throws his hands up. Even though he’s terrified, he’s accepted defeat.

“No.” Steve says calmly. “It’s just El.”

Eddie pauses his rant, “What?”

“It’s just El. In the corner. She does that sometimes, watches people she cares about until she falls asleep. To make sure they’re safe.” Steve looks at Eddie.

“The door was locked! How are you so calm about one of the kids just watching us at night?”

“Honey, she has mind powers. I don’t think a flimsy lock from Home Depot is going to stop her.” Steve deadpans before shrugging, “And it’s El. She could ask me to kill a man, and I probably wouldn’t even ask questions.”

“What if she asked you to kill me?”

“I’d be conflicted.”

“I want to be mad, but honestly I think I’d hand you the knife.” Eddie sighs, looking down at Steve.

Steve scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t stab you. I’d obviously sneak some kind of poison into your honeycombs. Way less messy.”

Eddie goes back to nearly shouting, “Why have you thought about this?!”

“Honestly, I have a lot of intrusive thoughts. I just don’t speak them out loud.”

Despite the fact they are actively talking about his murder, Eddie can’t help but get all gooey with Steve in their bed. “Is this why you don’t get mad when I think aloud? Another reason why you just get me. Adding that tally to the ‘why we are great together’ column.”

“Yes, we’re pretty amazing. Can we go back to sleep now?” Steve smiles.

“Yes—wait, no.” Eddie corrects himself, getting himself back on track. He loves this man, but he is a sneaky little minx. “Why did El never say anything? I mean, this is not the first time I accused her of being a demon. Hell, we’ve been talking for literally five minutes, and she still hasn’t said anything. Also, what if she walked in on us doing, ya know, adult stuff?” Eddie blushes at the end. He’s acting like he hasn’t been whispering way worse things in Steve’s ear every night.

“First off, she won’t walk in on that. Apparently Max taught her about happy screams a long time ago.”

“Gross.”

“Yeaaa. Second, I’m pretty sure she’s asleep right now.”

Huh, now that Eddie thinks about it, he does hear soft little snores. Which is weird since neither he nor Steve snores, and they are both, ya know, awake.

“And I don’t think El speaking in a dark corner would have helped your fears. Like imagine just hear her soft “Hello” at 2 a.m.” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“I—okay I got nothing.”

“Fantastic can we go back to sleep now?”

Eddie gives one last shout, “You’re not going to stop her?”

“Are you going to tell her no? And make her worry?”

Eddie slinks down into the covers, “...no.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Eddie curves his body into Steve’s, seeking him out. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, securing him to his chest. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Steve hums. “Anything for you baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Eddie kisses Steve lightly.

“I love you both as well.” El’s voice suddenly speaks into the silent room.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie screams.

Steve can’t help the giggles that come out of him. He tries to smother them into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie can’t find it in himself to be mad.

———

some people seemed interested in more el + Steve sibling energy. And they are a sibling-like duo I love. So here’s a little something but more steddie involved. I think all three of their relationship would be very sweet. Both Eddie and Steve would protect el. I hope you enjoyed :)

[soapssuds]

Imagine taking Katheryne's place for the day in Liyue, and when the traveler comes by for a new commission they are surprised to see you. You, on the other hand, aren't surprised to see them as you expected for them to come by. However, what you didn't expect was to see someone who doesn't belong.

He was clad in expensive looking attire, the contrast of blues and whites matching perfectly with his pale complexion and long silver hair. His eyes were mesmerizing too. They reminded you much of your dear friend Zhongli's eyes despite the major difference in color.

"Oh, y/n, we didn't expect to see you here today! Where's Katheryne?"

"Hello Paimon, Traveler, Katheryne is out for the day and a new commission popped up asking for anyone who was free to take her place. The mora is good, so I decided to take up the job since I don't have anything else to do."

"Oohhh, that makes sense," Paimon answered.

You smiled before directing your attention to their tall friend, "may I ask who this is?"

"This Neuvillette," Paimon introduced with an air of arrogance in her voice, "he's the chief justice of Fontaine! Pretty cool, huh?"

You bowed to Neuvillette, "it's nice to meet you sir."

"No, the pleasure is mine... your name is y/n, correct? The traveler and Paimon talk a lot about you. They were actually saying how they wanted me to meet you at some point."

Before you could say anything, you felt a tug on your sleeve, "miss y/n, your shift is over."

Nodding you turn back to the three before you, "well, as you can tell, since I'm done working for the day, why don't I tag along? That is, if it's alright."

Meeting Neuvillette was definitely interesting. He was both kind and courteous. A true gentleman. Not to mention that you quite like how he spoke to you. His voice was nice, smooth, and definitely easy on the ears. And just as he liked talking about Fontaine, he also liked listening to you.

Most of the time when you hung out with the traveler and Paimon, Paimon was usually the one who dominated the conversation (not that you minded, you weren't much of a talker to begin with), so being the center of attention in a conversation for once definitely made you nervous. Especially when such a handsome and refined man was giving such a attention.

And later you would fail to notice how Paimon and the traveler would give each other a high-five before leaving both you and Neuvillette to talk amongst yourselves. Neuvillette noticed, however, but decided to not say anything.

"You know Miss y/n," Neuvillette started but you gently cut him off, "y/n is fine."

"Y/n," he amended with a smile, "I've actually been quite the fan of yours for some time. And truthfully, it was I who asked the traveler to meet you."

As it turns out, you were actually a performer of sorts. Your voice was something that everyone could admire for hours on end. But at some point you decided to take a break. The life of an adventurer too good to pass up. (You did promise yourself to sing again someday, but for now, you were on a ... vacation of sorts.)

"You- you're a fan of mine?"

"Yes, I always enjoyed your performances when you would grace Fontaine with your voice. And when I heard you had went on break, I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear you again."

Your face felt hot all of sudden, it wasn't everyday that such a gorgeous man showered you in such praises. You felt him grab your hand as he stopped walking to look at you.

"Y/n, I-"

"Am i interrupting something?"

You looked to see who it was and immediately broke out into a bright smile, "Mr. Zhongli!"

You gently let go of Neuvillette's hand before walking up to your friend to give him a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! Where on Teyvat have you been?"

"Just traveling my dear, nothing to worry about."

As you pulled away to introduce Zhongli to Neuvillette, you didn't notice how the air got thicker and the area more tense than what it was.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that you didn't know that Zhongli is actually the geo Archon? Yeah...

Having two dragons fight over you is quite nice, though.

[fuctacles]

<<4 | 5 | 6>>

Eddie held back and was nice enough to give him an ice pack after. 

"Thank you," Steve murmurs, placing the frozen peas on his chin. He's not taking his eyes off Eddie, who's wired up and walking back and forth in the tiny kitchen. Steve is low-key expecting another hit. If he had his tail, it would be tucked between his legs. 

"Why?" Eddie finally asks, the first thing he says since the punch. But before he can get an answer, he follows with: "Does everyone else know?"

"Yes," Steve admits guiltily. "I didn't want to drop it on you right after the Upside Down, but the longer it took, the weirder it got, and I just..." he trails off with half a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs, sending him a glare while his strides pick up speed. It would look ridiculous, since it takes only three of his steps to walk through the kitchen, if it wasn't so serious. 

"You made it weirder alright. Why did you follow me around instead of hanging out like a normal human being?!" He throws his arms wildly around, almost hitting the fridge. "Or did you just want to keep tabs on me? Like a weird little dog-stalker?!"

"No!" Steve protests indignantly, but then falters. "Well, I— Kind of? But just to, you know, protect you."

Eddie finally stops. Which is not a good sign as far as Steve is concerned, but Eddie just stares at him. 

He recounts the run-ins they had with the local righteous mob. He reimagines them with Steve by his side instead, the human one, and there's no universe in which it doesn't end up with an escalation. People don't normally pick up fights with dogs, apparently. But...

"Was sleeping on my couch and eating my hot dogs also to protect me?"

Steve folds in on himself and Eddie can almost imagine his sad dog ears flopping down. 

"No, I just—"

Eddie's suddenly in his line of vision, squatting in front of him to peer into his face mockingly.

"Was it just for fun? Little doggy wanted belly rubs and treats? Make everyone look at me weird because I'm scratching Steve Harrington between his ears?" he scoffs. "And dude, I would do all of it, if I knew it was you. You were worried it would be too much for me after Vecna? I'm a nerd! I eat that shit up. Do you know how much better I'd feel knowing werewolves are real?!"

Steve is not even surprised at his outburst. He just shuffles his legs and corrects softly:

"Lykans."

Eddie jumps up, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh, now you're gonna tell me?! You lost your naming privileges, man, you're a werewolf, period."

He leans against the cupboards behind him, foot tapping restlessly. But he was angry at so many things at once, that he didn't know what to grasp first.

"Why did you avoid me?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Eddie interrupts him. "I never saw you around, only the dog. And then you started avoiding everyone else too. Why?"

Steve sighs, slipping the half-thawed pack of peas away from his face. His body slumps like any traces of fight have just left him.

"I guess it was easier. I could just walk around, keep an eye on everyone, and not... explain myself."

"Can't lie without vocal chords, huh?"

Steve sends him a tired look, and Eddie feels the tiniest of bits bad. He raises his hands placatingly. 

"I'm not your therapist. But I thought I was your friend."

"You are! Just..."

"Just not good enough to share the truth with?" Eddie offers.

Steve groans, this time unfolding to fall against the chair's backrest. 

"See, this is why I prefer shifting. I don't have to explain my thoughts to others, nothing is weird and unspoken, and everyone fucking loves me. They pet me and tell me nice things. But when I'm a human, I'm getting laughed at, dumped, used for rides, and have to stay alone in a big empty house."

Eddie just blinks at him, his anger slowly shifting into concern. 

"That's uh, a lot to unpack there," he says gently, pursing his lips in thought. "You know we've been worried about you, right? That we don't see you anymore. I mean, I didn't know at the time, but the kids knew something was going on with you."

Steve scoffs.

"Yeah, they noticed when they had to go beg Nancy for rides."

"Dude." Eddie frowns at him, both irritated and concerned. "I am so tempted to get your other cheek right now. Didn't Dustin call you to clear the air between us?"

"Yes, because you called him first," Steve reminds him. 

"Still, he could have left it for us to deal with on our own. But he cares, so he reached out. " Eddie sighs. "He wants us to be friends, but most of all, he wants you to open up; not to me, but to the rest of the party. So why are you holing yourself up, man? What's wrong?"

Steve doesn't move from his semi-open position, but he crosses his arms, and he's looking away at Wayne's cap collection, visible through the open space to his right. 

Eddie just looks at him, the worry in his stomach growing like a parasite. He decides that maybe this is enough for today. Enough feelings, talking, and confessions. That it is time to clear the air.

And by 'clear' he means 'cloud it with smoke'.

"Let's put a pin on that," he says and finally, Steve looks back at him, both worried and curious. "I think we both need to chill out and I still have that weed stored away for you. And a really bad horror from Gareth. The blood looks like ketchup, you're gonna love it."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[abilouwrites]

DONT WAIT FOR THE TIDE

JUST TO DIP BOTH YOUR FEET IN

“You really wanna go on a road-trip?” I ask Buck as he throws a duffel into his Jeep and then more gently tucks my duffel next to his, I look out at the cold greys and harsh blues in the sky. The clouds threaten to launch a downpour any moment, “it’s the middle of December Buck”

“Yeah, yeah it’ll be good for us to get out of town for a while. See the coast. San Fran and Santa Cruz” He rambles, I’ve seen him rushing but he’s never been so eager to kick it before.

“Buck I lived in San Jose, I know all those places. I’ve been there before. What’s this really about?” I inquire as he opens my door and helps me in then proceeds to jump into the drivers side and we speed off.

“I just, everything at work has been so crazy lately and I just need to blow town for a little while. And I thought, why don’t I do that with my favorite lady who knows all the best spots” he reasons brushing through his loose curls as we slow at a traffic light.

“Ok..” I shrug a little; I’ve been with this man long enough to know when to push and when to not, “how’s Eddie doing?” I ask, “losing his wife must’ve been hard” I pick my knee up and place my feet on the dash before Buck swats them down, “I’m in my socks!”

“That is how you break your pelvis and your legs so feet where they go babe” He corrects gently, moves a hand from the wheel to gently caress my thigh. Covered in my Stanford crewneck and leggings with my fuzzy Christmas socks on. I’m a little more comfortable than if I was in jeans and a hoodie.

“Alright alright, but Chris is good?” I ask turning my head as he looks at the GPS.

“Yeah, he misses his mom and Eddie’s shut down a little bit but I think with some therapy he might start coming back.. Athena and Bobby have been helping out with dinners n stuff” he explains, checking over as he merges into the freeway.

“That’s good, god I love those two. Real good people” I nod a little shifting in my seat as Buck continues driving.

“I was thinking, Santa Cruz, we go see your parents, San Fran, then drive back. Skip LA and just head straight to San Diego?” He asks looking over. Just a peeking glance at my expression before he turns his attention back to the road.

“Buck, y’know I love you but it’s gonna be freezing in San fran and Santa Cruz and driving past home Buck what’s up? I’m gettin worried” I peek over at him, seeing a large sigh from his chest.

“I’m scared. To go back. That I’ll get hurt again. Or someone else will get hurt again. I’m starting to think I’m just full of bad luck” He breathes a little looking in the rearview mirror before speeding up slightly.

“Oh” I don’t really have anything to say, no words to comfort him, no piece of advice to say ‘I’d been there, I know how you feel’ because I don’t know how he feels. I don’t know what it’s like to die on the job, or to see my friends face death, “I can’t tell you that I’ve been there and give you advice” I admit, “baby, the best I can do for you is to tell you that I’m here for you. And we have about six hours for you to tell me all about your feelings”

I see a faint smile and he shakes his head, “nah, I don’t need you to be my therapist, but I appreciate it.. more than you know” He tugs at his earlobe and sits back a little.

We sit in silence, I’ve got my AirPods in and watching the view. Bucks hand shifts from the steering wheel to my thigh where he just holds it.

We arrive in Santa Cruz at sunset, the beach is cold and the sand pricks at my toes as I slip my socks off, “come on bucky” I smile a little, it’s been years since I’ve been to this beach. I grasp his hand, he falters slightly before following after me. A quick surge foreword as he drops my hand then lifts me over his shoulder. I gasp slightly and grip onto his shirt, “Evan!”

“You run too slow, y’know I’m trained to run carrying a hell of a lot more than what you weigh” He sasses slightly, lowering me as the waves lick at my feet. It’s a re-assuring smile he gives me as he leans in and kisses me softly.

I smile into the kiss and wrap my arms around his neck. Locking my fingers into the soft blondeish brunette curls, “y’know. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get out of the city until I actually got out” I murmur as he turns and we stand side by side. The waves crashing into my ankles, starting to wet the edges of my leggings. The water starts to soak into Bucks jeans. He holds my hand, stuffing it into his hoodie pocket. I lean against his bicep, his finger rubs against my thumb.

“Good trip then?”

“Definitely”

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Carnal

AN: Everybody thank Lollapalooza Hyunjin for forcibly dragging me out of my writing rut and making me post again. Also, thanks to Sam @souplix for listening to my stressed, horny thoughts and feelings about him lol.

Synopsis: You have a very rude awakening about how sweaty Hyunjin makes you feel.

Tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mentions of Hyunjin going to the gym/working out and how his body has changed because of that, one brief mention of possessiveness, Reader is shorter than Hyunjin and there is no plot here.

Smut tags and warnings: Reader is down catastrophic (she's just like me fr), scent kink, sweat kink, lots of mentions of sweat and scent basically lol, lots of licking and biting (both giving and receiving), implied strength kink, mentions of bruises, sex in Reader's kitchen, some pussy play (f. receiving), handjob (m. receiving), throatfucking (m. receiving), one mention of hentai, kissing post oral sex, dirty talk, some manhandling, Reader is lifted briefly, piv sex without a condom, praise (f. receiving), usage of petnames, creampie, hints of overstimulation, a brief mention of tears, mentions of Hyunjin being clawed at, mentions of pussy eating and implied cum eating.

Word count: 3.3k

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

It's stupid. So incredibly stupid.

You don't know why your brain and body have chosen today to make such a big deal out of your very attractive, very sweaty boyfriend but, they've decided now was apparently the appropriate time to conspire against you. Maybe you can blame this on ovulation. Maybe if you check your calendar, the desire you feel clawing at your gut watching him chug water from his bottle and the way his white shirt clings to his broad back will all make total sense.

When did he get so broad, anyway? You feel like you just blinked and suddenly he was all muscles and strength and you're trying really hard not to think of that one he pressed you so hard into your mattress that your thighs were littered with bruises afterwards–

“Are you okay?” His concerned voice violently shakes you out of the memories that were fogging up your brain. Oh. Oh, it's so much worse being faced with him directly. Who the fuck goes to the gym in a white shirt? Doesn't he see the way it's sticking to his drenched torso? Is he just that unaware of how sweaty of a person he is? Does he not care? You shove down the twinge of possessiveness that flares up at the idea of anyone getting to look at him while he looks this hot.

“Hmm? I'm fine. Why do you ask?” You pray to whatever higher power is listening that the breathy quality of your voice is only evident to you.

The knowing look that dawns on his handsome face lets you know that the higher powers aren't on your side today.

You've been in love with Hyunjin for far, far longer than the two of you have been together and you know it's way too soon to tell him that. However, it's moments like this that make you question your feelings because the smugness rolling off of him in waves as he sets down his bottle and stalks his way over to you is so insufferable. It's hard to maintain your annoyed exterior when he's so close to you and his scent is all around you. You think your ovulation hypothesis might have been correct because it's so fucking absurd that your mouth starts to water just from smelling him and his damp chest being a few centimetres from your face.

“I'm not sure why,” he starts and the gravelly quality of his voice shoots straight to the apex of your thighs. He doesn't stop, though. Pressing you further into your kitchen counter while his hands burn a trail from your thighs to your hips, your oversized shirt shifting up in the process, “but, you look like you want to devour me right now.”

The whimper that escapes your throat is beyond pathetic but, apparently that's all he needs before pouncing. The wind is knocked out of the moment his mouth descends onto yours. His hands give your hips a sharp squeeze before drifting to your ass. Kneading it while his tongue and teeth leave you a mess. All you can think to do is grasp onto his biceps for some sort of lifeline. The muscles and veins underneath your palms don't help the state of pussy in the slightest. The sheer ferocity of the want you feel for him right is a little terrifying. He could ask you to do anything right now and you doubt you'd find it within you to say no.

You swallow down the frustrated whine that threatens to bubble out of you when he pulls his mouth away from you. He doesn't keep you waiting for long, though. Kissing his way along your jaw until his full lips begin showering your neck with licks and nips. If he has any complaints about the way your nails dig into his biceps, he doesn't make them known. God, it's like you can feel your sanity crumbling with every kiss he presses into you and every millisecond you spend surrounded by his dizzying scent. This is quite the way to discover you're apparently really into your boyfriend when he's covered in sweat.

He departs from your neck with one, final kiss. Meeting your lidded gaze with an electrifying one of his own. Frankly, with the way he's looking at you right now, you're not sure why he hasn't tugged down his sweats and shoved his cock into you. It's clear as day that that's what you both want. Then again, your boyfriend being ever the giving romantic typically isn't one to let you feel him until he's made you cum with his fingers and/or mouth at least once. Which you do love but, you're pretty sure if he doesn't sink his cock into you right now, you might die actually. You're sure you're more than wet enough.

As if reading your mind, one of his hands drift to your inner thighs and, of course, you spread them for him. Your breath stills in your lungs when his fingertips brush against your soaked folds. “Fuck,” he hisses, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see one his veins tick. Honestly, if you weren't so delirious just from a few, light strokes of his fingers, you'd happily be licking at it. “How are you so wet already?” He asks, his eyes meeting yours briefly and, the intensity in them makes it infinitely harder to breath, before his attention is focused back on watching his fingers toy with you.

“It's not my fault you're so hot,” you mean to say that as a half-joke but, the sheer desire in your tone makes any attempt at humour fall flat. His mouth is back on yours in a heartbeat. His fingers trace your slick folds with practised ease. He even has the nerve to grin against your lips when your hips jump as his fingers add pressure to your neglected clit. You're so relieved that you have your counter there to support you because you're certain your legs would have given out ages ago. He greedily swallows every noise he pulls from you with his mouth and his fingers. Quiet gasps, needy moans and pitchy keens all find their way into his awaiting mouth while his stupidly long fingers continue to toy with you. You're so wet that you can feel it dripping onto your thighs and, you're sure his fingers are thoroughly coated in it too. A thought that prompts you to kiss him harder and impatiently tug at one of the causes of all of this madness in the first place.

“Off,” you impatiently demand against his plump lips, shoving his shirt up his slick torso. His responding laugh is obnoxious but he does oblige your request without much fanfare. Tugging off his shirt and discarding it somewhere on your kitchen floor. Honestly, you're not sure what's worse: when the stupid shirt was clinging to him or having his bare, sweaty chest right there for you to have your way with. Fuck. You should ask him to drop by after his workouts more often. Raw, carnal desire propels you forward. Pulling him into a kiss that's more spit and teeth than anything. Delighting in the hardness you can feel prodding at your stomach and the groans of pleasure that spill from him while you tug on his damp locks. While this is nice, you have other plans in mind.

You've probably explored his body hundreds of times at this point but, you don't think you'll ever grow tired of feeling the way he reacts to your every touch. Smiling into his lips when his muscles jump underneath your fingertips. Your walls fluttering around nothing when his whimpers hit your eardrums as you tease his sensitive nipples. Burning every part of him you can into your memory all over again. Fingers mapping paths they've travelled thousands of times before but, it never quite feels like enough. This time around, he's the first one to pull away for air. Your kitchen is filled with nothing but the sounds of your respective laboured breathing and the habitual drones from your various appliances.

Your mouth finds his throat and the salty taste of his skin shoots straight to your clit. Hyunjin is a sweaty man. This isn't a secret. However, you're not sure what's changed so drastically today that makes his sweat almost an aphrodisiac to you. You find yourself chasing as much of his taste as you can. Licking his neck until it's a mess of spit and sweat while your skilled hands hurriedly pull at the waistband of his sweats. Whether it's because he's just as lost in all of this as you are or because he wants you to, he doesn't stop you from pooling his sweats and boxers around his thighs. He's scorching, slick and hard in the palm of your hand.

It's a delirious feeling the way he quivers beneath your every touch. His pulse jumping underneath your tongue with every lazy stroke you give him. He doesn't let you touch him like this as often as you'd like. He's giving and so deeply focused on your pleasure to a fault so, you always savour moments like this whenever they arise. Mouthing at his neck and toying with cock just further stoke the flames of arousal lashing at your gut but, it's not enough.

An idea springs to your mind and your pussy throbs just thinking about it.

Thankfully, Hyunjin is too distracted with trying to fuck your hand and paw at your ass to notice anything is going on until you're on your knees. The floor is cold and you can already tell your knees are going to hurt later but, you can't bring yourself to care when he gives you a look that's equal parts confusion and lust. It's so fucking unfair that he still manages to look so cute while his cock is centimetres from your face and your hand is covered in him.

“What–” his question is cut off by a strangled moan of your name when you take him down your throat as far as you can. Not unlike Hyunjin, you're quite the romantic yourself. Typically you'd paint his torso and hips with kisses before teasing him with licks until he's begging you to suck him off properly.

Today isn't a typical day.

Pride swells up inside of you when he leans against your counter for support with a whispered ‘fuck.’ The brief discomfort you feel from his tip nudging the back of your throat is so worth it. You probably took too much of him too fast but, you don't care. You feel like a woman possessed right now. Your hand continues to stroke what you can't fit into your mouth and his taste causes more of your wetness to gush out of you. He always tastes so good, so him but, this is something else. You're sure if this was a hentai, your pupils would be in the shape of hearts right now. You wonder if he'd be grossed out by you asking him not to shower immediately after the gym and his dance classes anymore. Probably.

One of his hands finds its way to your hair when the sounds (and likely sensations) of you gagging on his cock are too much. You manage to blink up at him through your wet lashes (when did you start crying?) and the look in his face worsens the mess between your thighs. Even from here, you can see how almost black his eyes are. A pretty blush dusting across his face that would look endearing if he didn't look like he wanted to fuck you within an inch of your life. He maintains your eye contact as he shallowly starts to thrust into your mouth. Bruised lips parting to let out curses and groans but, his eyes remain completely locked onto you. Watching for any signs of discomfort or him going too far as his hips gradually pick up speed.

It's hard to breathe but, you push that to the back of your mind for now. Focusing on relaxing your throat as much as you can so he can fuck it thoroughly. Your face is a mess of tears, spit and pre-cum but, he's still looking at you like you're the most gorgeous person in the world to him. Maybe you are a little insane about him because what rational person thinks about how much they love their boyfriend while he's throatfucking them?

It takes you a second to notice him slowing down his pace until he stops completely. Before you can shoot him a questioning look, he's easing himself out of your mouth and a noise of frustration escapes you before you can stop yourself. His laugh, like always, is music to your ears and that coupled with the way he plays with your hair for a bit acts as a balm for your brief irritation. Still, your confusion must be written clear as day even as he helps you to your feet because he says, “Was getting close. Didn't wanna cum in your mouth.”

Driven by the painful pulse between your thighs, you drag him into another kiss. The knowledge that he's tasting himself on your tongue is so fucking hot that think you've finally, well and truly, reached the end of rope.

“Jin-Jinnie,” you gasp against his mouth, fingernails desperately clawing at his shoulders, “I ah need you to fuck me, please. Need to feel you,” you rush out in a single breath that you're not even sure he heard you. However, based on the way he practically hoists you onto your counter and ruts his cock into your thigh, he heard you just fine.

“Didn't even get to get you ready,” he complains, his massive hands spreading your thighs for him to easily slot himself between. Your breath stutters in your chest when his fingers stroke your swollen, dripping core and it's especially hard to remember how to breathe when they ghost over your clit. “Didn't even get to taste this pretty pussy,” he whines against your cheek, pressing his nose to your skin while his fingers inch closer to your entrance.

You need to stop him now otherwise you're going to wind up with his face between your thighs for like three hours like last time. And as mind-blowing as that was, you really just want his cock right now.

“Later, Jinnie, okay?” You assure him, grabbing his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. It's hard to focus when he looks at you like that but, you persist, “You can eat me out all you want later,” it does do fantastic things for your ego watching the way his eyes glaze over at the offer, “but, right now I really just want your cock, please.”

“You're so unfair,” he groans before doing his best to devour you with his full, gorgeous lips. His hands keep your thighs spread for him, gripping them so harshly that you wouldn't be shocked if you had fresh bruises decorating your skin later. 'Seriously, when did he get so strong?' you wonder briefly before you feel him sinking into you. Granted, you did quite literally beg him for this but, it still takes you a few, very long moments to remember how to breathe while he lets you feel every inch of him. You're more than wet enough. That's not the problem here. It's just so much feeling him balls deep inside of you. All you can think to do is claw at his biceps while you try to gather yourself and adjust to the stretch and the sudden, toe-curling fullness.

“So good, so tight,” he moans when he pulls away for some air, focusing his attention on lapping at your throat while his hands fondle as much of your thighs as he can reach. His thrusts start out without an ounce of mercy. The snaps of his hips are precise, deadly and meant to brush against that spot inside of you that always makes you see stars and feel lightheaded with every thrust. It's filthy, frankly. The noises of his skin slapping against yours echoing throughout your kitchen. Your shared, shaky breaths and broken moans adding tension to the familiar knot you can feel tightening in the pit of your stomach.

Blinking your eyes opening, you're met with the sight of his inky hair sticking to his damp forehead and sweat dripping down his handsome face while he watches himself thrust into you, totally transfixed. Impatient hands tugging your shirt out of the way as much as possible so he can watch the way your tits move with every stroke too. You'd laugh at his ever present fixation on your tits if you weren't so keyed up and unbearably close. Clued in either by your watery whimpers or your walls trying their best to milk him dry, Hyunjin drags you as close to the edge as he comfortably can. Pulling you impossibly close to him, right into his sweat covered chest and further onto his stupidly long cock. It's so much, too much being pressed directly into the cause of all of this in the first place. His scent is all encompassing and zipping straight from your nostrils to the apex of your thighs, more of your arousal gushing onto him.

You nearly jump when his fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing quick circular motions just the way he knows you like it, his mouth finding its way to your ear, “You're so close, aren't you, baby?” He whispers, adding pressure with his fingers for good measure while his pace doesn't falter in the slightest, “Gonna cum for me? Wanna cum for me? Don't you? Cum all over this cock that you've been begging for. That you sucked off like a good girl–”

All you see is white after that. Your entire body seizing up so intensely that for a fleeting moment you're worried about how deeply your nails are digging into his skin. Hyunjin doesn't seem to care, though. Not even a little bit. Muttering what you manage to briefly catch are praises and moans of your name while he continues to fuck you through your climax. Tears prick the corners of your eyes while you ride out the waves and Hyunjin seeks out his own release from your spasming walls. You can tell from the way he twitches non-stop inside of you to the increase in his whines that he's growing close. One final, brutal snap of his hips is all it takes for him to sheath himself inside of you and fill you with his warm cum. His broken moans pressed into the hollow of your neck while he cums and cums and cums.

You let him lean against you while he takes a few minutes to compose himself and come back down to Earth. Truthfully, you're not faring much better but, at least you have a counter and an apparent gymrat of a boyfriend to help steady you. He hums appreciatively into your skin when you start playing with his hair and drawing nonsensical patterns into his back.

You're not sure how much time passes, could be five minutes, could be forty but, eventually he starts to pull out of you. This is easily your least favourite part and you can't help the unpleasant shudder that runs down your back once he's completely out. However, you know you need to pee and you both definitely need to take a shower so you don't begrudge him for getting the ball rolling. At least, that's what you thought was going to happen so, when he drops to his knees, you're left baffled and look at him totally puzzled.

“What–”

“You did say I could eat you out all I want later, didn't you?”

This man is going to be the death of you.

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Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[aroeddiediaz]

7x04 Coda

Sprained ankles hurt. Eddie shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by the pain, because he knows all too well that the amount of pain injuries feel like is almost inverse with the actual damage they cause. A shot from a sniper felt like almost nothing, while a stubbed toe sends ricochets up his spine.

But that’s nothing compared to the encroaching feeling of dread as Eddie thinks back on his interactions with Buck over the last two weeks, and what might have caused his best friend to lash out at him.

“I think we fucked up,” he grumbles to Tommy, who gives him a quick glance before returning his attention to the road.

“You mean with Evan?” Tommy says.

Evan. That was kind of weird, right? Eddie had only ever heard Buck’s sister and parents call him by his first name before. He’d only used the name once himself, when he told Buck about his will.

But Buck hadn’t corrected Tommy on it, so he must not mind, Eddie supposes.

Eddie shakes that stray thought away.

“Yeah,” he continues, even though talking kind of hurts right now. That didn’t seem fair, it’s Eddie’s ankle that’s injured, not his lungs. “I mean, with me kind of blowing him off to come to that karaoke night… and the UFC fight in Vegas… and the pickup game…”

Looking back on it now, Eddie’s not sure when it all got so out of hand. He and Tommy had hit it off on the Coast Guard ride back to LA, while Buck was off checking in with Bobby and Athena. He’d been so excited as they shared their similar interests and history- army, MMA, old cars- that he’d immediately made plans to hang out. When Tommy mentioned that he could get them rinkside tickets in Vegas, Eddie had jumped on it immediately. He didn’t even think about mentioning it to Buck.

And the babysitting thing… Eddie kind of wants to curl up thinking back to the strange face Buck had made when Eddie asked him to watch over Chris. Buck usually loved hanging out with Chris, even volunteering for it when Eddie mentioned having plans, so he didn’t think twice about asking it of him. He should have known.

“Ooh, yeah.” Tommy lets out a whistle. “We did fuck up, huh. Could have at least invited him to muay thai after the match.”

Eddie laughs a little, strained by the pain and the stirrings of shame. “Buck doesn’t know muay thai. Just boxing.”

“Yeah?” There’s a funny tone to Tommy’s voice. “Maybe we should teach him.”

Eddie does a careful rotation of his inflamed joint. The stretch does help ease the pain a little. “Maybe you should offer him lessons,” he says. “I’m gonna be out of commission for a little bit.”

Tommy glances at him again. A slightly longer one, with them stopped at a red light, kind of searching. “You think he’d be interested in learning from me?”

“Oh yeah. You’re great. And Buck’s a quick study for sure.” Eddie glances out the window, and sees the urgent care clinic sign just past the intersection. “Actually, you think you could do me a favor?”

The light turns green. Tommy drives forward. “Of course.”

“Could you talk to Buck for me?” Eddie asks. “I’m sure he’s feeling all sorts of guilty right now, and it’s not his fault. He just got a little too aggressive at the game.”

It’s really too bad. Buck’s really good at basketball, for someone who hates the game so much. Eddie’s sure he’ll never get Buck to touch a ball again.

“Uh, yeah,” Tommy says, slowly, as he pulls up into the parking lot. “If you’re sure you want me to speak with him.”

Eddie nods. “He’s probably licking his wounds at his loft right now, and he’ll need a bit of a kick in the pants before he comes to see me. I trust you.”

Tommy chuckles a little. “Alright, then. I’ll swing by his place in the morning, before my shift, check in on him for you.”

That’s a relief. They find a parking spot close to the clinic entrance, and Eddie hisses a little as he opens the door and swings his legs out. He needs to be more considerate of Buck’s feelings, going forward. He has the sinking feeling that he’s started to take him for granted.

He’ll have to pay him more attention.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

When Harry came running into his study one bright October day, the first thing Voldemort thought was, Didn’t I lock that door? Years of living with the boy – well, man now – hadn’t yet inured Voldemort to him constantly being underfoot and getting into places where he shouldn’t be.

His second thought was that the flush of exertion colouring Harry’s cheeks was rather fetching. Even if his hair was more of a windswept bird’s nest than usual and the knees of his jeans were dirty.

“Vee, you gotta come with me,” Harry said. His breathing was just a little heavy, likely from running about like an excitable child.

“Oh, I ‘gotta,’ do I?” Voldemort teased in a deadpan tone, arching his brows as he watched Harry shift in place in the doorway.

“C’mon, don’t be pedantic; follow me,” Harry insisted. When he began walking over with a determined light in his eyes, Voldemort accepted his fate with a sigh, setting down his book and rising from his seat. Capitulation was better for his pride than losing, after all.

“Very well, lead the way.”

He pretended not to see Harry’s victorious fist-pump.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

When they reached their apparent destination, as indicated by Harry throwing his arms wide to present… something, Voldemort said, “What am I meant to be looking at?”

He couldn’t help but feel that Harry’s exasperated sigh was undeserved. “Leaves!” the man exclaimed, gesturing in front of them again.

“Yes, there are a lot of leaves,” Voldemort agreed slowly, wondering if the other man may have been caught with a stray confundus in the past hour.

“No, you–” Harry said, huffing out a laugh. “I raked some of the leaves into a pile. We’re going to jump into it.”

“We are not.”

“Uh, yeah, we definitely are.”

“Correction: I am not. You can do whatever foolish thing you like.”

“Vee, don’t be a spoilsport. Didn’t you ever want to play in the leaves when you were a kid?”

Tilting his head to the side, Voldemort gave it a moment of thought. “Not particularly, no. There weren’t enough trees around Wool’s to create an adequate pile, and the ground was too full of stones. I’ve never been fond of being dirty, either.”

“That is both sad and far too practical,” Harry said. “C’mon, a little dirt won’t hurt you, Mr. Big, Bad Dark Lord.”

“I’m going to remember you said that,” Voldemort threatened absently, glancing away from the leaf pile to watch the other man. “Is there a particular reason why you’re goading me?” 

Harry ducked his head, kicking one foot back and forth through the leaves and scattering them, though there were enough that it barely made a difference. “I dunno,” he said quietly. “When I was younger, I’d see some of the neighbourhood kids playing with each other in the leaves. I always had to rake them up and bin them immediately at the Dursleys'. It seemed like such a waste.”

And Voldemort was more than capable of filling in the bits that Harry wasn’t saying by this point. Sighing his defeat yet again, he turned away from the leaf pile, ignoring Harry’s disappointed sound. Then he let himself fall backwards, landing with a flump and sending leaves fluttering into the air around him.

Harry’s joyous shout preceded his flop into the leaf pile next to Voldemort by mere moments. Rolling back and forth and flailing his arms about with a smile practically splitting his face in half, Harry looked ecstatic. 

Reaching over, Voldemort plucked a leaf from Harry’s hair, letting it fall between them. Harry’s surprised eyes peered back at him, before they crinkled into happy half-moons behind his ridiculous glasses.

“Thanks, Vee,” he said far too sincerely for something so simple.

So Voldemort sat up, grabbed a handful of leaves and pitched it into Harry’s face, eliciting an indignant squawk. Before he could fully extricate himself, Voldemort was tackled back into the leaf pile, spitting out fallen foliage and rolling a cackling Harry off of him to pin the giddy man to the ground and stuff fistfuls of leaves down his shirt.

They both ended up flushed and dirty, but Voldemort couldn’t find it in him to complain.

[rogueddie]

Steve has always known that, one day, his parents would turn on him.

It's always been an uphill battle with them. It had taken him weeks to even get the conversation started, months to get them to turn a blind eye until he could finally be him.

He had won, in the end. He got what he wanted. They even moved across the country, all the way to Indiana, they keep their mouths shut and lie where they have to... mostly to protect their reputation, not Steves life, but still.

All of it, however, was made in the promise that Steve would one day work with his father. That he would fight his way to the top and be another thing that makes his parents look good. The long desired son and heir to the Harrington name.

With his parents extending their travels more and more, he's able to lie a little. He makes a lot of vague promises and waves away questions that inch increasingly closer to the truth.

But they're getting impatient. Their questions turning sharp, with vague implications of returning early so they can "correct" him. Put him on the "right course". They want him to finally fulfill his end of the bargain.

He's running out of time.

"I thought you were going to stick with Robin when she goes to college?" Eddie frowns.

"I was," Steve turns so he can hide his grimace. "She's going to stick as close as she can though. I, uh... kinda want some space from all of this. A break, you know?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Eddie stays silent, the quiet dragging on long enough that Steve turns to glance back at him.

He's leaning on the counter, raising his eyebrows at Steve when they make eye contact, expression expectant.

"That's it," Steve lies, insistent. "Really. I need to get away for a while."

"Sure," Eddie nods. His smile is tight, forced. "And this has nothing to do with your parents coming home soon."

"What? That- no. Don't be silly."

Steve tries to laugh, wincing at how strained it sounds.

"Man, come on. You can talk to me. If they're..." Eddie pauses, glancing around the store, leaning closer and lowering his voice. "If they're hurting you, you can stay with us. Wayne won't let them near you. Robin would kill them for you."

"They're not hurting me. I'm not worried about that."

Although, Steve pauses. His fathers anger about his poor grades had been worse than he'd expected. He'd been worried, for a moment, that things were about to turn violent. If they find out that he's going to break his promise...

"Steve? Hey, are you alright?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine. Forget about it, I'll just... think of something else. It's not a big deal."

"Right, uh... maybe you should talk to Robin about-"

"Hello!" Steve greets, turning the customer with a wide grin. "How can I help you?"

He tries to keep his focus on the customer, but he can see Eddie shaking his head and shuffling out. He pauses at the door, glancing back with a frown.

Steve glances at him, worrying at the determination on his face.

He clears his throat, looking back to the customer, trying to brush it off.

It plagues his mind. Its only when Robin finally joins him that he's able to push it to the side, soaking up the time and teasing as much as he can.

"We should visit Nance," Robin says, towards the end of their shift. "Hang out. We haven't for a while, have we?"

"Uh... sure?" Steve frowns at her. Something in her tone sounds wrong. "Did something happen?"

She glances at him, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know," she shrugs. "Maybe?"

"Ok," he grabs her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "We'll make sure she's ok."

It isn't until they're leaving for the Wheeler house that he grows suspicious.

Usually, Robin is relieved when he figures out what's worrying her. She wouldn't talk about what she thinks is wrong with Nancy, but she would usually talk about why she's worried. She'd take the opportunity to vent her stress.

But she's silent. She won't look at him, picking at her nails...

"This isn't about Nance, is it?" He asks after a minute.

"No, it is!" She insists, voice cracking. "Totally!"

He glances at her with a raised brow.

"Ok, fine, it isn't! But I'm not telling you what it's really about!"

"It's about me," he huffs, gently smacking her leg and looking at her with a smile so she knows he isn't mad. "Eddie's idea, right?"

She grumbles, folding her arms, sinking low in the passenger seat.

"Did he tell you to lie?"

"Of course he did, he's an idiot."

Steve snorts.

He throws an arm around her shoulders as they walk up to the Wheelers front door.

"Steve!" Mrs Wheeler greets with a grin, which softens when she looks to Robin. "Robin. Oh, it's so lovely to see you two. They're waiting for you in the basement."

Steve is taken back when they step down into the basement. There's more people than he would have expected to turn up for him.

Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle are gathered around the bottom of the stairs, beckoning them down. The kids are all piled on the sofa, with El and Lucas propped up on the arms. Even Hopper is waiting, arms crossed in the corner.

"Steve," Eddie starts.

But Steve quickly cuts him off. "What did you tell everyone? This isn't an emergency or anything."

"So there is something," Nancy says.

"Yeah, but it's my problem to deal with."

"You don't have to do it on your own," Robin points out, squeezing his waist.

"It is."

"What is going on?" Lucas asks. "Like, why do you need to go to Chicago so bad?"

"It's so far away," Dustin complains.

"Yeah, that's kinda the point," Steve rubs his temple, sighing. "It's a long story, alright? All you need to know is that I made a deal with my parents and I'm not going to uphold my side. I want to get out of dodge before shit explodes."

"Are they threatening you?" Hopper asks.

"Not yet. I don't plan on sticking around to find out."

"What are they threatening you with?" Jonathan asks.

"It doesn't matter."

"We will keep you safe," El says. "You are our friend. We can protect you."

"Thanks, El, but this isn't something you can really protect me from."

"Jesus, just tell us!" Mike snaps.

"Mike!" Nancy scolds.

"What? We can't help him if we don't know what's going on!"

"He has a point," Jonathan says.

"Steve," Eddie starts, stepping closer, speaking softly. "You can trust us. We're here for you."

He hesitates, before finally turning to Robin.

As always, she can read him like a book. She nods, grabbing his hand, dragging him back up the stairs.

"Woah, where are you going?" Nancy calls.

"Bathroom!" Robin calls back, not stopping or slowing down.

Luckily, the bathroom is clear and no one is around to see them both go inside before Robin shuts and locks the door behind them.

She crawls into the tub first, patting the spot next to her. She pulls him tight to her side when he sits next to her, wrapping both arms around him.

"I don't know if I can say it," he finally mumbles after a moment.

"It's ok. Take your time. They can wait."

She rubs circles on his back, unbothered by the dragging silence.

"Do, uh..." Steve clears his throat. "When you were talking about, like, being born lesbian... do you think it's like that with, uh... gender?"

She stills for a moment. She squeezes him, resting her head on his. "I know you were born a man."

"No, Rob, that's what I'm trying to say. I... I wasn't."

"Yes, you were," she insists. "You are a man. Just... some parts haven't always matched. You're still the best guy I know. Always have been. Knowing that people used to wrongly think you were a girl doesn't change that."

He twists, burying his face in her shoulder. "I love you, Robs."

"Love you too, Steve. So much."

"You're too good for me."

"I'm just right for you. And if your parents are threatening you with this, I'm going to kill them."

"They aren't," he says, finally pulling back. "I don't think they will. It'd make them look back too, like, we go down together or whatever. Probably best if I'm not here though. Just in case."

"Mutually assured destruction," Robin hums, squinting at the wall. "We could use that?"

"We?"

"Yeah! If they threaten to expose you, we threaten to expose them too. I mean, those crazy people like to pretend like they care so much about children- imagine how they'd react to your parents letting you transition at such a young age! They'd be ruined!"

"You think the others would go along with that?"

Her expression darkens, glaring at the door. "They better, or I'll have to kill them too."

He snorts, dropping his head back onto her shoulder. "You can't kill everyone that is mean to me."

"I can try."

"Yeah, yeah, you're so scary," he grunts as he climbs out the tub, offering a hand to help her. "So... what are we telling the others?"

"What do you want to tell them?" She grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. "We don't have to tell them anything if you want. They don't have to know if you don't want them to."

"I don't know... I feel like we need to."

"No. If you don't want to tell them, we don't tell them."

He pauses, thinking it over for a moment.

Robin squeezes his hand, patiently waiting.

"We should tell them. I just... I don't know if-"

"-You can do it yourself?" She finishes. "I can, if you want."

"Thanks, Rob."

"Always." She turns to the door, taking a deep breath. "Ready?"

"With you? Hell yeah."

Eddie and Nancy jump to their feet as soon as they start walking down the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Eddie asks.

"Fine," Steve nods. He turns to Robin, who nods back. "But, uh... there's something you should know."

"First," Robin starts, pointing sharply at all of them. "We've faced monsters from another dimension. El can move things with her mind. Steve is not weird at all and, in comparison to all that bullshit, you should understand how norml he is. Alright?"

Steve has to bite back laughter at how stunned everyone looks.

He's pretty sure it works though. He watches all of their reactions as Robin answers as many of their questions as she can, dismissing a lot of them with a simple; "stupid question, next".

When they finally run out of questions, it's Mike who breaks the silence.

"Well, that was dumb and pointless," he says. "Congratulations, Steves a man. We all knew that!"

"Mike-" Nancy snaps, starting towards him.

"No, listen," he shouts, raising his hands. "No one here knows about this apart from his parents and now us, right? Or is there, like, files?"

"No," Steve answers. "They lied and forged what they had to."

"Oh, that could work," Lucas says, looking to Mike.

"What could?" Nancy asks, impatient.

"Everyone sees Steve as a man," Lucas asnwers. "And all the information says he is too-"

"No one would believe them," Mike finishes.

"I've seen your birth cirtificate," Hopper says, nodding. "Everything says you were born male."

"It's their word against reality," Mike says. "They'd look insane."

"No one would believe them," Nancy repeats, grinning.

"Wait, so... what?" Steve asks, feeling a little dazed.

"You're safe," Robin says. "You're safe, Steve. They don't have anything to threaten you with. You're safe."

[gothcsz]

but Javi when there’s an actual guy around neighbour readers apartment

Like the hallway smells delicious from the food she cooked and the dessert she baked for their date and he can hear the chatter and laughter and it’s getting later and later and that fucker isn’t fucking leaving 😡😡😡😡😡 so he knocks on her door pretending he needs her help with something and tries to scare the guy off lmao

Can just see him all intimidatingly strolling through the room, sizing the guy up and making some dumb af comments lmao

OKAY YOU GUYS ENOUGH!! (👀) WE CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS!! (👀) I CAN'T AFFORD TO BE OBSESSED WITH A NEW PAIRING/CONCEPT!! (👀) lore for neighbor javi keeps building

“¿Necesitas ayuda?” Javier’s voice comes out of nowhere as he sidles up behind you, eyeing the grocery bags stacked in your arms.

You exhale a sigh of relief, shooting him that bright, grateful smile that’s impossible for him not to return. “Yes, please.”

In seconds, he’s taken most of the bags, his fingers brushing yours just slightly. As you walk down the hallway to your apartment door, he gives the groceries a curious glance, an amused tilt to his brow. “This is a lot. Feeding a whole family, ¿o qué?”

Your cheeks flush. You knew you might’ve gone overboard for dinner tonight, but the comment makes you second-guess everything. You bite your lip, shifting nervously. “I... I have a date tonight. He’s coming over for dinner.”

Javier’s steps falter for a beat before he follows you inside, the sour shift in his demeanor evident. “Oh. Who’s the lucky guy?” he manages, though his jaw is tight. You, however, are too busy mentally organizing tonight’s plans to catch the strain in his tone.

This is your attempt at carving out a new path for yourself. One that isn’t attached to your job or revolved around your handsome neighbor. 

Mateo, the banker, is exactly what you need right now. You see him every couple of weeks when you deposit your check; he’s handsome, charming, and always good for a laugh.

You have this running joke about him feeding you information for an elaborate, fictional heist. It’s silly and refreshing—everything that keeps you grounded and away from thoughts of Javier.

You’ve already spent too many evenings thinking about him while he brings other women home. 

“Mateo. El que trabajo en el banco,” you say, carefully practicing the Spanish he’s been helping you with. “How was that?”

The whiplash from being irritated to amused almost disorients him. A small smile tugs at his mouth, shaking him momentarily from his jealous induced reverie. “Good. Trabaja not trabajo. That’s past tense.” He corrects you politely.

A banker? Javier can already picture him—a polished, safe, number-crunching type with a predictable routine and zero clue on what it takes to be with a woman like you. The thought turns his stomach.

“Close enough,” you shrug, but still noting his correction. You’re definitely making improvements, all thanks to him. 

“Not that it’s any of my business…” he starts, though his voice of reason is telling him to shut the fuck up. “Is it the same guy from the other night?”

You almost drop the carton of eggs in your hand. He’s still on that? “You’re right, it isn’t any of your business.” However, that same feeling you got from when he was at your doorstep, all bothered, returns, and you continue, “But yes, it is. I guess I left a big enough of an impression to warrant another visit.”

You have no idea where you’re pulling all this confidence from, but you need to pump the brakes before this little white lie of yours turns into a big, colorful one.

He watches as you crouch by the open fridge, neatly arranging the groceries, calm as ever, while his mind spirals. 

Javier doesn’t even want to dissect what you’ve just said. One night in your bed and this Mateo is being gluttonous about seeing you again.

One night of feeling your body beneath his… on top… bent over, moaning sweetly just for him, your cunt fluttering around his cock—has this asshole wanting more.

He doesn’t even realize he’s balled his fists at his sides until he feels his nails pressing into his palms.

“Look at you,” he mutters gruffly as he attempts to mask the irritation. “Scorin’ dates.” It sounds more like an accusation than encouragement, and he knows it, but he can’t help himself.

You look at him over your shoulder, surprised by his tone, eyebrow raised. “¿Todo bien?”

He clears his throat, glancing at his watch to avoid meeting your eyes. “Claro,” he says, too quickly. “I gotta head out anyway. Got a meeting.”

Probably with some woman that looks like she belongs on the front cover of a magazine. You mentally shake the jealousy away—you’ve got a date tonight that you’ve actually been looking forward to all week.

“Okay. Be safe, Javi. You can close the door behind you.”

With a disappointed sigh, he lingers a moment longer, like he’s waiting for something—a proper goodbye, maybe.  But you’re so wrapped up in thoughts of someone else and that only adds fuel to the fire he’s harboring inside.

His shoulders slump as if he’s been turned away. It’s absurd, how disappointed he feels at such a small dismissal. “Bueno… diviértete,” he mutters before finally turning to leave.

It’s late, and Javier’s pacing his apartment, unable to ignore the muffled laughter and music seeping through his walls. The hallway outside your door smells like heaven—a mix of whatever meal you put together and something sweet.

The later it gets, the more unbearable the jealousy becomes. Why isn’t he leaving? He’s not naive, he knows exactly why. Not when he has a beautiful girl like you cooking, catering to him, offering yourself up in the most desirable way possible.

Javier wonders if you’re wearing a pretty set of lingerie or if you’ve kept it simple. You strike him as a simple kind of girl, but the idea of you skimping around in sexy lacy sets in fun colors has his cock stirring. Then he remembers who you’re wearing them for.

It’s ridiculous the way his blood boils over the thought of you with some pretentious suit. Unable to take another second of it, he strides out of his place to firmly knock at your door, his mind set on only one thing: making his presence known.

Inside, you glance at Mateo with a playful smirk. “Guess the cops finally caught on to our bank heist plan,” you joke, getting up from the couch to answer.

But when you open it, it’s not the police—it’s the only person it can be.

Javier’s expression wavers just for a split second as he takes you in—his gaze running slowly down the length of your dress, fitted in all the right places, hugging your body in a way that makes his throat tighten. His jaw clenches as his eyes flick back up to your face. 

“Javier,” you say, forcing a polite smile despite his obvious stare. “Everything okay?”

Ignoring the question, he barges right in, gaze hardening as he takes in the scene—a romantic ambiance, this good for nothing on your couch, enjoying your things.

Mateo glances at you as he slowly rises from his spot, raising a brow, as though trying to size up exactly what’s going on.

You shoot him an apologetic look. “This is my very annoying next door neighbor Javier.” You tone is strained, throwing a very not so subtle hint at the agent in your living room.

“Just thought I’d check if your headboard ever got fixed.” Javi’s voice drips with mock concern, “It’s so damn noisy. Constantly banging up against the wall. Real loud.”

Anxiety floods your body, keeping you glued to your spot, eyes widening as you realize where he is headed with this. This is what you get for lying.

“A pillow might help,” he continues with a careless shrug. “Keeps it from hitting the wall. You know, a little courtesy wouldn’t hurt. No one wants to hear you fucking her.”

“Javier, stop,” you hiss, finally finding the will to step between the two of them, heart hammering at his audacity.

Mateo’s posture stiffens, and his eyes narrow. He looks between you both, a muscle in his jaw ticking as Javier crosses his arms.

“Mira, hermano,” Mateo says, holding his hands up, tone growing defensive. Javier scoffs. “Creo que estamos bien. Not sure why you think you need to be here right now.”

You feel your pulse in your throat, anger and embarrassment from his behavior prickling at you as you point to the door. “Leave. Now.”

He bites down on his tongue, his jaw flexing hard as he struggles to keep himself in check. “Fine. Just… keep it down,” he mutters, marching out as quickly as he stormed in.

You let out a breath, murmuring a quick apology to Mateo before following him to the door, catching him just as he steps into the hallway. “We’ll talk about this later when you’re not being weird,” you whisper-yell, the frustration clear in your tone.

Before he can respond, you shut the door firmly, twisting the lock and leaning against it for a second to collect yourself. You smooth down your dress, take a deep breath, and shake off the heat of the moment before returning to your date, flashing him a reassuring smile as you settle back in.

The next day, you’re heading home from work when you spot Javier leaning against the building, cigarette in hand, looking out over the parking lot. His stance is casual, but there’s something stormy about his gaze, fixed on the distant skyline.

“Still in a pissy mood?” you ask, raising a brow as you approach.

He flirtatiously drags his eyes down your work clothes, that unreadable look of his making your heart skip. He blows the smoke away from your face. “About that…”

You give him a look, urging him to go on.

“Had a rough day. Just wanted some peace and quiet but all I could hear was you two.”

There’s an apology in his tone, and despite yourself, your irritation softens, just a little. “I’m sorry you had a rough day, but that doesn’t mean you can just… do that.” The words waver under his gaze, and damn him for how easily he gets to you with just a look.

He nods, a small frown creasing his brow. “I know, cariño. Perdoname. It won’t happen again.” His voice is gentler now, his dark eyes earnest, and you feel your frustration dissolving against your better judgment.

You huff, feigning a stern look. “It better not. If it does, I might actually move out. Then you’ll really have your peace and quiet.”

His mouth curves into a smirk as he takes another drag. “You do that, I’ll never eat again, and you’ll definitely never learn Spanish.”

You can’t help but playfully roll your eyes. “Vete a la mierda.”

The smirk on his lips turns into a full blown smile. His genuine laugh is so warm, pulling a grin from you too. It’s a sound you’d do anything to hear every day, that rare openness that feels almost like a privilege.

You don’t tell him how you, too, hear every sound that slips through these thin walls, or how your heart cracks a little each time you brush past one of his fleeting lovers in the hallway.

Instead, you just tuck the ache away, choosing to stay right here, grateful for these small moments that let you be close to him.

[mavuikas-wife]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆Yandere Sunday˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Part 2 of this fic

Warning:controlling behavior, threatening, Sunday

Yandere Sunday, who calls you to his office when you are about to end your shift. You don't think anything of it first, assuming he is calling you to discuss some matters regarding the upcoming charmony festival. As you were heading to his office, you noticed that the dwelight pavilion seemed a lot emptier than usual, yet you can't help but feel like you're being watched....

Yandere Sunday, who is camly standing in front of the miniature golden hour sand pit with one hand on the back and the other elegantly at his side.

Yandere Sunday, who looks up to you when you open the door and greets with a smile on his face.

After seeing Sunday's gentle smile, you relax a bit. Maybe you were being paranoid, and this is just a normal meeting....oh, how wrong were you

"Take a seat, dear." Sunday's gentle voice lures you towards the chair as he sits across from you with his legs crossed and taping his fingers on some files. "Do you know what are in these files dove? Take a guess. " Sunday asks as his gloved fingers trace the edges. ".....um.. I am not sure perhaps reports from the alfalfa family?" You responded, trying to remember what else is left to do for the charmony festival."Hmm,... incorrect, you see, we got reports from the bloodhounds family about a storeaway. " Your heart thumps loudly at the revelation,"and from the looks of it, you also have something to do with it, correct?" You try to act oblivious, trying hard not to incor the calm man's wrath. "Me? w-what would I have to do with the bloodhound family, much less a storeaway? Are you trying to imply that I brought a storeaway inside the dreamscape? Surely you jest Mr Sunday...." You let out a laugh trying to cover your nervousness. "Oh, but I am not. You see, the hounds have reported to me that you have been spotted with this man on many occasions and have been actively hiding him from the family. " Sunday gives you an eerie smile as he walks up to you, and his fingers lift up your head."Who knows what would happen if everyone in the family knew about this.... I may be forgiving, but I can not lie to the dreammaster now, can I." Your eyes dart around frantically, and your hands fiddle with the ends of your top as you think of a way to escape this situation."Mr. Sunday I- I will do anything, but please don't let any harm come to him, please. " Sunday's smile grows even wider if that's even possible."Anything, you say," " Yes, anything," your response doesn't seem to surprise him as if it was what he was planning for in the first place. "Then listen closely, my dear, for the harmonious Aeon have not shown you mercy today, but I have." At this point, you have your hands joined together as you look up to at mercy."Then I shall tell you what to do my dove..." Both his hands cup your face."You shall start a new life as my one and only wife." At this revelation, you stand up startled "w-what" Sunday's smile, not wavering a bit at your actions."What's wrong dear, you said you do anything, right? Don't tell me you're backing out now," you watch him still prossing his words. "Don't worry dear, I would never force you after all you still have a choice. You could say no to my offer, but your lover would would face the precautions, or you could join me, and nothing would happen him no one would press charges against him and you would never meet him again but he will be safe..." You clench your fist and bite your inner cheeks to the point it almost bleeds. ".....fine do what you want, but don't forget that I will never love you the way you want me to," you replied as you looked at him in anger. "Only time will tell my dear I certain that you would change your mind in the near future." His voice was all that you could hear as he caged you in his arms....

Yandere Sunday, who meets your family as your new lover and gets their blessings for marriage. Your family, who never thought you bag the representative of the family, the most handsome man in penacony, of course, they would say yes for the marriage this Sunday, the most respected man in penacony who in the right mind would say no?

Yandere Sunday, who also informs his sister Robin about his lover and about getting married. Of course he left a few details behind there is no harm in white lies is there?

Yandere Sunday, who plans the entire wedding along with the invitations and sends them to all the family members and penacony after all this is a grand celebration

Yandere Sunday, who spends a lot of money and time to make sure that your weeding dress matches his perfectly and the overall theme.

Yandere Sunday, who threatens tells you not ruin his image in public or else the people closest to would get hurt

Yandere Sunday, who makes sure everybody in penacony no in this universe knows that you are his beautiful wife♡

[aureatchi]

⋆·˚ ༘* A NIGHT @ A JAZZ BAR! ft. dazai, chuuya, & ranpo!

a/n. i've never been to a jazz clb myself (hopefully in the future <('o'<3) !) but i keep seeing videos of them on my tiktok fyp ‘n i could vividly visualize the snug, intimate atmosphere...i was immediately reminded of these bsd men,, imo the vibe fits them v well !!

info. fem!reader. fluff as chambré as the ambiance. mentions of lots of drinking ‘n reader gets tipsy. to have the full experience i recc. listenening to jazz music while reading! \(^_<)\ wc. 6k (total)

DAZAI :

You needed a break. You had been working yourself morning to evening this past week for extra money—you wanted to make sure you still had a decent amount of savings in your bank account after all the shopping you had done with your friends the previous weekend. Thankfully, your final shift had ended earlier today, so you went home, indulged a nice, hot shower, and decided you should treat yourself for getting through the long week.

You had never been to a jazz bar before, but you thought it would be a fun twist in comparison to a regular bar—which is what you needed anyway. You wanted something to wind yourself down, and some drinks along with incredible music would certainly satisfy the interest.

So here you were, sitting on one of the tall, cushioned barstools as a bartender prepared your first drink. The atmosphere in the bar was cushy and cozy, already relaxing your mind.

“I’ll take what the miss ordered over here,” you heard from the handsome man who sat on the stool next to you, brunette hair covering his eyes.

He noticed your gaze and then turned towards you. “I haven’t seen you before; this your first time?” he asked, a friendly smile on his face.

“Yeah,” you replied, a shy smile in return. “My first time at a jazz club in general.”

“Ooh, how exciting!” he responded in delight. “I hope you’ll like it here.”

The bartender handed your identical drinks.

“What’s your name?” the dark-haired asked. You responded with yours, asking for his in return.

“Osamu Dazai,” Dazai replied with a wink. “Nice to meet you, bella.”

You were initially confused because you had just told him your name, and it wasn’t Bella (unless it was, ignore this!)—maybe he misheard? But he gave you no time to correct him when he raised his glass towards you.

“What brings you here?” he asked. “To try this out for the first time?”

“To celebrate still being alive after working my ass off this entire week,” you replied with a half-hearted laugh.

Dazai chuckled with you. “I could say the same for myself,” he replied, a hint of thoughtfulness in his voice. “Well then! Let’s toast…to being alive!” He raised his glass higher, and you did as well, meeting his in the middle.

Clank!

“And to a new friendship! Or possibly even more…” his grin turned smug as your expression contorted in confusion, and you felt your cheeks warm up.

“…Hey Osamu, we just met,” you responded with your own smirk, playing it off after your initial reaction.

“Just a possibility,” he giggled. “Because your response helped me figure out you were single, anyway! If you weren’t, you would’ve been like, ‘Oh Osamu~ I regret to inform you that I have a boyfriend…'”

“How sly.” You shook your head in amusement.

He simply laughed as you both took a drink of your cocktails.

...

You were on your fourth drink now. You and Dazai had conversed a lot throughout the evening—you had learned his occupation was a detective agent of sorts, and on that topic, he babbled on about how one of his coworkers would always complain about him being lazy and obnoxious.

“Kunikida’s always pissed at me,” Dazai giggled. “But he plays right into my entertainment—I get on his nerves on purpose! Actually, I was supposed to be investigating something this evening…wait ‘till he finds out I was at a bar all night gossiping about him with a fanciable lady!”

You laughed in response, cheeks tinted, while your eyes admired how the ambiance of the balmy-toned light in the room complimented his features. His gaze was soft and his eyes rosed in honey. Meanwhile, brown bangs rested gracefully on his face, while a strand of hair was tucked behind his ear. To further add to the dreamy atmosphere that surrounded you two, the smoothness of the melody in the background—especially with the use of piano, could be compared to a romantic candlelit dinner in itself.

“You’ll be fine slacking off, though, right?” you asked. “Your job seems important, so I wouldn’t want you skipping someth-”

“Don’t worry, bella, I’m more capable than you think,” he replied. “Or at least, you can have my word that I won’t get fired.” He gave you a playful smile.

“You’re so cute, though! Caring for my well-being. Awh, and now you’re smiling. Wait—don’t turn away; you don’t need to be shy!”

You also observed this man was a huge tease, quite literally pointing out your reactions to his flatter out loud the entire night. It was all Dazai’s doing though—how could you not fluster whenever he called you adorable? Especially when he looked as pretty as he was—there was no doubt your new friend was very attractive.

Your face was still turned away from him when you noticed other people in the room start to get up from their seats and move towards an area not crowded with tables and chairs, in front of the band playing the music live.

A new song had begun, and people started to dance with each other.

You turned back to Dazai and were greeted with an outstretched hand toward you as he stood up.

“Mind if I do?” he asked. “You need to experience the dancing too.”

You took his hand with a smile, and then he led you across the floor. “I’ll need help, though, Osamu. I'm not familiar with dancing here.”

“Don’t worry bella! I got you.” He dragged you into the center of the crowd and started guiding your movements—the dance was a fashion of stepping back and forth to the rhythm. His hands clasped around both of yours.

“The most important part is footwork,” Dazai whispered. You turned your head to see other couples and their movements, and you did your best to replicate them. You then focused your gaze to admire the band—seeing instruments such as the saxophone, piano, drums, and clarinet being played. You looked back at Dazai, both of you happy you had gotten the hang of the swing.

He suddenly stepped back at the same time you did, stretching both pairs of arms. He pulled you back in, and with it he let go of one hand and spun you around.

“Here’s one move,” he chuckled as he spun you once more, in the opposite direction. "Let's see how long it takes for you to get dizzy!"

...

The rest of the night was lovely. You danced with Dazai until the songs ended, and then you two had a few more drinks until he realized you had drunk too much.

“Are you fine?” Dazai asked, noticing your flushed cheeks and unfocused gaze.

“Hm? Yes,” you replied, though it was evident you were very tipsy.

“I think that’s enough drinks, hm?”

“Aw,” you replied, swishing around an ice sphere in your glass. In this state of intoxication, you had taken to stop looking at Dazai while he looked at you, because whenever you made eye contact with him now, you couldn’t control hiding being smitten by his charm anymore.

You stole a glance at him this time though, seeing through your peripheral that he wasn’t looking.

“Oh!”

Dazai had noticed your little solitaire’s rules and decided to join in your game too. He immediately caught your look and stared back.

Unconsciously, your chairs had gotten closer throughout the night, and at this point they were touching. Your personal bubbles had eloped, and Dazai was now very close to your face.

Your lips slightly parted, your heart racing in anticipation of what would happen next, a stark contrast to the flow of the slow music. Dazai’s breath on your neck, his eyes on yours, and his attention completely focused on you. The tension was unmistakable, especially when his pupils darted to your mouth—it truly seemed like he was going to kiss you right then.

But then, he pulled back, calling the server, leaving you stupefied.

“I’m paying for Miss too,” Dazai said to the bartender, handing him his card before looking back at you. “You should go home before midnight at least,” he looked at his watch. He then noticed your dismayed expression, and simply laughed.

“I want to get to know you to where I’ll know for certain I can do something like that while you’re in this state first. And you’ll be fine with it when you’re sober again—you’ll even let me do it when you’re sober,” he joked whilst giving you a reassuring smile.

He was so considerate. You were glad and thankful that he was a polite man—you would’ve definitely freaked out once you were sober if you let someone you just met at a bar kiss you.

Because you would’ve definitely let him.

“Okay, Mr. Gentleman,” you replied lightheartedly, but you too smiled to show you were seriously grateful for his self-control when he had an advantage.

After paying, he stood you up and put his beige coat that he hadn’t been using around you. You both walked—or you rather stumbled out into the cool evening air, and you immediately sobered up at the breeze.

“Thank you for keeping me company. My first experience was amazing thanks to you,” you said, merry.

“I thank you as well,” Dazai smiled too. “It was a pleasant night.

“Keep the coat for now. It’s an excuse for us to meet again.” He winked, and you chuckled, nodding your head in agreement.

Dazai then signaled for a taxi to come over to take you home.

He outstretched his arms a bit, an invitation to hug.

“May I?”

Your lips curled upwards, and you wrapped your arms around him too as he embraced you warmly. He gently kissed your forehead.

“Have a lovely night, belladona,” Dazai said as you both pulled back, the taxi vehicle stopping close by you. You realized then that he wasn’t calling you by the name, Bella—just the abbreviation for the romantic endearment he had called you by the entire time.

“You too, goodnight Osamu!” you responded.

…

At home, you went through the pockets of Dazai’s coat to see if he had left anything by accident. You found a small piece of folded paper, and opening it, he had left his phone number for you.

“Give me a call, bella!~”

CHUUYA :

“Almost done, doll?” Chuuya asked as you looked at yourself in the full-body mirror, seeing what your outfit looked like from all angles. You were dressed up—classy black corset top with a frilly skirt, under a matching blazer that belonged to your lover. 

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling when you saw the ginger appear behind you through the reflection, who gently lifted your hair and clasped a ruby-jeweled necklace around you. 

“We look s’good,” he said, looking into the mirror as well after putting on your necklace, both of you posing in your attire. You couldn’t have agreed any more. Chuuya was equally dressed as flamboyantly as you—designer branded black suit and tie with a matching fedora to tie it all together. 

“We’re like fashion icons,” you added, earning a smirk from him. It was always like this whenever you two went out—you and Chuuya would always subliminally earn the title of best dressed in the room, no matter the occasion, no matter how casual or formal the event was. 

“You’re right,” he agreed, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, shall w’go now, mon amour?” Chuuya stepped back, holding out his palm for yours to take. 

You giggled at the extra-ness of the ginger-haired. 

“Lead the way, Chuu. Or what was it…oh! Monsieur Chuuya.” You took his hand as he led you out of your elegant hotel suite. 

Chuuya Nakahara had brought you all the way to Paris. He had gotten a week off from his work—this was seldom; he barely got any breaks from the Port Mafia, so he knew he had to do something special with you while he had more time on his hands. And what better to do than take you to the City of Love? 

Tonight’s evening plans included dinner at an elaborate restaurant—very lavish (usually, a table would have to be reserved about a month in advance, but Chuuya used his PM connections and money to buy you two a spot—you didn’t know this of course). 

Your dinner was delectable. You knew you would be dreaming of the delicious flavors of all seven French courses for days after finishing eating. 

Though, you and Chuuya weren’t tired yet, and it was still pretty early in the night, so you two decided to go to one of the underground jazz bars in the city. The warm, sultry air immediately filled your senses as you ran your fingertips through the texture of the auburn brick walls; the atmosphere of the place complimenting you and Chuuya’s aura perfectly. 

Some people even turned to you both as you made your way across the room, admiring how attractive you two looked together—the way your outfits highlighted your best features and coupled each other’s from the head accessories to the shoes you wore. Chuuya guided you from behind with one of his hands on your waist and wore a smug smile on his face as he noticed the glances. 

“Baby, they’re looking at us,” Chuuya whispered close to your ear, chuckling. “I know they all think we’re hot.” 

“Shh, Chuuya!” you responded in embarrassment, playfully swatting him away, but you too observed the other people in the bar gazing at you. 

You two sat at down at a booth, crimson red velvet cushions decorating the wooden sofa. 

“I’ma get drinks, alright?” he asked and you nodded before Chuuya made his way towards the bar. Meanwhile, you sat and watched the band on stage play. 

You and Chuuya were no strangers to jazz bars. It was an activity that became a statement in your relationship—back in Yokohama, whenever any of you needed destressing or just wanted to go out an evening without any plan, he would take you to one. So it was nice you could finally visit one in Paris, too. This one in particular was less known than others—usually, only a local would be able to find this jewel of a place. All knowledge credited to the expert Chuuya!

You also thought he enamored the vibe so perfectly. The setting of the place radiated of the top mafia executive so well—alluring nature; soulful, captivating music; the sophisticated selection of home-specialty cocktails on the menu—or even better, just the wine. 

Which is of course what Chuuya came back with, in red.

“Now what is this?” you asked, amused. You knew the ginger’s upscale taste in wine—after all, you’ve walked through his entire cellar worth multiple banks at home. You were awestruck, to say the least. 

Chuuya set the bottle down on the table. 

“This is a Pinot Noir. Domaine Georges and Christophe Roumier Musigny Grand Cru 1990,” he pronounced while you stared at what you bet on the Eiffel Tower cost thousands in front of you. “I love this place. Didn’t think they’d have such a good bouquet here.”

“Chuuya! That’s such a long name?!” you responded, jaw-dropped. “Why the hell are these titles so long?”

He simply smirked. “Well, I think this is perfect for the occasion, doll. Do ya know why?”

“Hm…because we’re in France?” you guessed, knowing how most of Chuuya’s favorite wines were imported from the country. Since coming here, he’s tried a lot. 

“Not wrong, but there’s something else,” he continued. 

“You remember Musigny, right?” You nodded, recalling the previous three times Chuuya mentioned a wine from the Le Musigny vineyards while educating you about what he was drinking. 

“The story b’hind this wine involves a Musigny girl who marries a lad in 1924. As a dowry, he receives parts of the Chambolle Musigny vineyards. Then, Domaine Georges and Christophe Roumier were born, and this wine was produced. Kinda romantic, huh?” 

“Awh! Yes, it is,” you replied, smiling. You found it adorable that Chuuya had chosen a wine with some sort of lovey story behind it for this event. 

He smiled back and then opened the bottle, pouring you about a third of the glass of burgundy liquid. 

“Here, nana.”

He sat down beside you after pouring his own glass. You took yours and clanked his glass, seeing a smug smile on his face. 

You sniffed the wine first, a sous-bois—earthy aroma filling your senses, redberries and spices akin. Then you tasted it, intense, grapey flavor on your tongue. 

“Miam!”

…

You and Chuuya had finished the bottle and moved on to other cocktails. And though Chuuya did like liquor on special occasions, he also could not hold it very well. Tipsy yourself, you didn’t realize he too was intoxicated until he randomly jerked you up from the seat. 

“Let’s dance pretty girl,” he said, dragging you across the floor. 

“Wait, hang on Chuu!” you stumbled, trying to find your balance. 

You made it to the middle of the floor where many other people were and joined in with the vitalizing, fast-paced song. You and Chuuya swung around, dancing to your heart’s content. Though your mind was hazy, you made an effort to step in the right places, so you wouldn’t topple Chuuya and both go down. 

Except, it seemed that he was too drunk to focus as well. He had accidentally lingered his foot on the floor too long, causing you to slip when you accidentally moved yours to the same spot. You gasped and fell backward.

An arm swiftly wrapped around your back, though, saving you from hitting the ground. 

“Sorry baby!” Chuuya had snapped out of his fuzziness the moment you tripped, acting fast to stop your fall. Your eyes widened as you looked into his concerned face above.

You realized a few moments later that everyone in the crowd had parted, leaving you and Chuuya in the middle, still in the same position. Unintentionally, he had disguised your slip-up as a dip in dance, and everyone there was impressed! They started clapping as you both remained there, confused looks on your faces. 

But then, Chuuya smiled and pulled you back up into a kiss. He started chuckling as his lips lingered on yours, finding the entire ordeal funny that it had worked out so pleasantly. You smiled too, wrapping your hands around his neck while you heard shouts of “Ouah!” and “Comme c’est romantique!” from spectators. 

Chuuya wasn’t done yet, though. Even the band had stopped playing music to acknowledge this interlude, so Chuuya jumped up on stage headlong without hesitation and took the microphone. 

“This princess right here deserves everything,” Chuuya spoke, eyeing you with a grin, causing you to heat up in embarrassment. “I brought her to Paris ‘cause why shouldn’t someone as lovely as her experience the city of romance? I say I’m one damn lucky man to have her.” 

There was another applaud while you melted in your lover’s broad proclamation of endearment towards you. You almost couldn’t believe it—surely you were just drunk and imagining things; there was no way Chuuya had gotten on stage with the band and started speaking. But the reality of it proved when he jumped back off, and embraced you again. 

“Love you,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Or, the French say ‘Je t’aime.’”

“I love you too,” you giggled back, enjoying the warmth of his hug. 

… 

You were both exhausted by the end of the night, yet Chuuya still carried you bridal-style back to the hotel room. You scrambled to get ready for bed, showering and changing into your pajamas, and in no time, you were both tucked in under the covers. 

“That was fun,” you sleepily said as you wrapped an arm across him. 

“I’m glad it was,” he replied. “You deserve to enjoy every day.”

“I do enjoy everyday because I’m with you, Chuuya. What you said earlier…

“I’m one lucky girl to have you.”

RANPO :

“Ranpo-ohh, c’mon!” you exclaimed as you practically dragged your lover out of the kitchen. 

“Why do we gotta go!?” he whined back, trying to grab another cookie out of the glass jar on the counter. 

“It’s—literally a mission from the President?” you used all your force and pulled Ranpo away before he could latch his hands on the sweets. 

“Why does he gotta send us?” he continued to complain, but fortunately, no longer trying to escape from you. “He always gives me such boring missions…I should be getting much more important cases as the world’s best detective!” 

He ended his exclamation with a hmph! and crossed his arms. You sighed as you looked at his stubborn state, but couldn’t help but smile when you realized he looked kind of…adorable like this.

“Ranpo, your missions are probably so trivial because you’re just that smart! You can figure out the answers and solutions to people’s questions and problems right away, so of course, everything that isn’t some huge, world-threatening issue would be mundane to you!” 

“Yeah, ‘cause humans are stupid,” he responded, but it was evident in his eyes he appreciated your words. You’ve grown to learn this over time—Ranpo absolutely loved praise, tripling in significance when it came from you, but he was too prideful to admit it. You’ve seldom seen him thank other people when they complimented him, but he always made sure you saw it, even if it was in an indirect way…She’s brilliant anyway. She’ll know I cherish it. 

“But! Seriously? A jazz concert? Why couldn’t the President send someone more suitable for that setting? I have no interest in somewhere like that!” 

“Why not?” you asked. “It seems fun! There will be music and dancing and stuff.” 

“I’d rather stay here! There won’t be snacks—probably just drinks! And I don’t like drinking; nothing is sweet enough for me!” He pouted once again.

“Well, the point of the mission won’t be to entertain ourselves anyway. We’re going to find a suspected murderer and possibly stop another murder caused by this one from happening. Therefore, drinking isn’t even important—it should be out of the question. For tonight, anyway.” 

“Fine. Let’s go!” 

“Wait—just a minute! We need to be dressed for the occasion! So we blend in?” 

You found it ironic that the world’s best detective could easily solve any case with a snap of a finger, yet he couldn’t even use the train. His ignorance of things was quite amusing; something such as an event’s dress code had slipped his mind.

“Why, what’s wrong with my outfit?” Ranpo asked. 

“Or do you just want a reason to dress me up?” You could see a slight smirk forming on his lips. 

“Well, I wasn’t lying with what I just said, but yes, picking out an outfit for you would be quite fun…” 

…

You and Ranpo were dressed and ready to go to the event. You had styled him in a cocoa-brown button-up paired with some slacks and yourself in your favorite little black dress. 

“Earth tones fit you the best,” you commented as you admired him in the outfit you put him in. “They compliment your eyes really well.” 

“Really?” he asked as he strode over to a mirror and shoved his face directly in front of it. He opened his viridian eyes, wide, and tried to examine why you thought that by holding up a piece of the fabric to his face.

You giggled as he felt you wrap your hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. 

…

“The murderer is going to be in this large crowd,” you repeated facts that the both of you already knew. “They’ll be unsuspecting—they’ll blend in with everyone else like us.”

You walked through a slim door but were greeted by a vast, lively room of vibes and music. The concert hadn’t started yet, but there was already a sea of people inside conversing with each other and ordering drinks. 

“The murderer may not have bought a ticket,” you said just loud enough for Ranpo to hear after you showed your entry tickets. You scanned the guest list and saw that everyone currently in the room did buy one, casting aside the staff, so you ruled out that everyone there right now could be a suspect. “So that their name wouldn’t be documented here. We should keep watch to see who tries to sneak in.” 

Ranpo nodded. “There are definitely other entrance doors in here, though. There’s probably an emergency exit in another corner of the room, and there is the backstage door.” 

“So they can sneak in through here, bribe the doorman, or sneak in through the other door,” you clarified. “And if not…they would hide among the band performers and enter with them.” 

“Or! They could be one of the band players.” 

“Hm, really?” you asked. “I looked into this band when we first got assigned the mission. It doesn’t seem like any of the members have any dirt or sketchy controversy surrounding them.” 

“Just a possibility! But yeah, any of those three ways would be how the murderer will get in.”  

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll go around to find the other entrance then. We’ll text each other if we see anything; otherwise, we’ll meet back when the concert starts. 

“Okie dokie!” 

… 

Thirty minutes had passed. You had found the back entrance and idled by it to see if anyone would enter, but noone came. You waited for a text from Ranpo, but it didn’t seem like anything suspicious happened on his end either. 

You heard a smooth voice through a microphone that sounded the entire room as the lights dimmed. 

“Welcome. The concert will begin on stage shortly.” 

Taking one last look at the door, you left and made your way to the stage where many other people started to gather. You sifted through the congregation, trying to find the pretty brunette among them. 

“Boo!” 

“Hu-uh?!” You slightly jolted, immediately turning around. You were undoubtedly greeted with a brunette. But instead of Ranpo, you were met with… 

“Dazai?!” 

“Hey-y!”

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed as a bartender?” 

“Oh!” he replied, taking your hand. “Well, Ranpo was trying to find you, so come with me first.” He led you through the group until you were at the bar area. 

“There you are!” Ranpo shouted, seeing you appear with Dazai. 

Dazai brought you to Ranpo and then went behind the counter. 

“Well, to answer your question, long story short, I got punished. For ‘being lazy’. Kunikida caught me trying to catch a nap on the couch and went and complained to the President. He came in, saw me still there, and decided to punish me by leaving Kunikida to punish me.” You lifted an eyebrow in amusement. 

“So, Kunikida said I’d have to work here for the night. To prove I’m worthwhile doing a job.

“But anyways, drinks?” He glanced at you and Ranpo. 

“No thank you,” you replied. “We’re on a mission right now. There’s a murderer we have to catch tonight.” 

“Oh yes, Ranpo already told me,” he replied, looking at Ranpo. 

“Dazai helped us a little,” Ranpo said. 

He explained that when Ranpo discovered he was here too, he helped by counting everyone in the room after one of the band members announced the concert was about to start. Then, all left was to ask the doorman a question that would tell them how many tickets were sold. If more people were in the room than tickets sold, they would’ve already entered. 

“And since you and I didn’t see them trying to enter through the two doors, that must mean that the murderer came in the third way,” you contemplated. “They would sneak in with the band.” 

“Or again! Be part of the band!” Ranpo exclaimed. 

You sighed while Dazai chuckled in amusement. 

“You don’t believe so?” Dazai asked. 

“I just don’t see how. I mean, there’s no way all the members would have such clean slates if one of them turned out to be the killer.” 

“Or you’re just biased,” Ranpo sparred. “I know you’re really fond of jazz. That’s why you were so excited to go on this mission. You probably don’t want to think one of the jazz musicians could turn out to be a criminal.” 

You frowned. “Ranpo, that’s not the only reason-” 

“Whatever! We need to see how many people bought tickets for here.” He cut you off.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you replied and walked over to the security man at the door you came in from. 

“Hi, I run a blog and I was interested in making an article about my experience here, would you mind if you could answer a question about something?” 

“Of course, I don’t mind,” he replied. 

“I was wondering how many people are here tonight,” you said. “This place seems popular. I was curious to see if the atmosphere makes it seem like there are more people than there are, haha.” 

“If everyone shows up, then there should be one hundred and seven people here,” he replied. 

“Cool, thank you!” 

You walked back over to Ranpo. 

“He said one-hundred-seven,” you told him. 

He and Dazai looked at each other. 

“I counted one-hundred-eight people here,” Dazai said. “Ranpo double-checked, by the way.” 

“Oh,” you said. “So, they did show up with the band.” 

“Let’s go check backstage,” Ranpo said.

…

You two snuck behind the stage with ease, no one paying attention to your trespassing when the band was already playing the third song. Dazai stayed behind; he had been greeted by a pretty woman who wanted a drink and seemed eager to serve her. 

“I don’t see anything odd here,” you said, scanning the room. Luckily it was empty, so you didn’t have to knock out anyone there. 

“Here’s the entrance,” Ranpo pointed to the door. 

“Yeah, so can’t you use ultra-deduction to figure it out now?” you asked, out of leads. There was an extra person in the concert, and they entered through the backstage, but you didn’t know anything else.  

“I told you! They are part of the band! Look, there’s a fingerprint scanner for security,” Ranpo said, pointing to a screen. “If you open the door, the scanner is on the outside. That means only they can enter.” 

“We can’t assume!” you argued back, running to a computer. “I don’t believe it! There’s no way one of them could be the murderer…I—I’ve been a fan of this band for years…” You turned on the computer to see the live recording of the security cameras in the room, one of the screens peering at your back. 

“Are you saying you’re doubting my ability!?” Ranpo clamored childishly.

You ignored him, rewinding the footage to earlier that evening when the jazz members arrived. And to your disappointment, no one else entered throughout the whole timeline until you and Ranpo. 

Is the murderer…really among them? 

“The final song will now begin.” The instruments had lowered in volume, and the same voice spoke in the microphone again, announcing the concert was almost over. 

“Found any other suspect, sweetheart?” Ranpo mocked immaturely. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

“What are you going to do? Jump up on stage and tell everyone one of them is a murderer?” 

“Mhm,” he replied, looking up at their backs. “They’ll all be interrogated, the murders will match up with one of them, and-” 

“There just has to be another explanation! I know we found one thing, but we should at least have more proof than just who entered this room to convict someone! I just think you usually have more reason for your conclusions, Ranpo!” 

He stared at you. It was obvious you and Ranpo were frustrated at each other, but you both fought to not cause a scene or verbally displease one another. 

“…I actually can’t figure it out. I tried but…it’s not giving me an answer. I don’t know why. It’s like, in reality, there’s no murderer here at all!” 

He looked disdained, and you immediately felt concerned. But before you could respond, Dazai walked in the room.

“What are you guys doing?” He pulled you with one arm and Ranpo on his other. “There hasn’t been a murder yet, so shouldn’t you be keeping an eye out for it in the crowd?” You three entered the show again, and you eyed the musicians on stage. 

Which one looks most like a murderer. And how will they murder? Will they bring someone on stage and do it there? Or after the concert ends? Or will they abduct the victim and then kill them?

And then the last song ended. The band thanked everyone for coming, and the audience started to either file out or go to the bar for some final drinks. 

It’s going to happen sometime now! 

You immediately tracked down the musicians, keeping them in your sight, even following them as they went backstage. You hid behind the doorframe so they wouldn’t see you watching them. 

But it seems that one of the members noticed. 

“Hey!” he spoke out, the one who played the saxophone. 

Shoot! Now I’m going to be their victim! 

He walked up towards you, and now you couldn’t escape. 

You didn’t even bother to tell Ranpo what you were doing before you ran off. 

“Hm, are you looking for a signature?” he asked, a friendly smile on his face. Fake friendly, possibly. Inviting and warm. So that you’d fall into his trap. It has to be him. 

“Y-yes!” you replied, trying to conceal your fear. “I’ve been a fan of your group’s music for a few years. I am glad I was able to hear it tonight.” 

“Wow, thank you!” he replied, humbly. “That really means a lot. Here, you can come in and I’ll sign wherever you want.” 

And this is where it happens, huh. You debated stepping inside when suddenly, Ranpo appeared in front of you. 

“Back away from my girlfriend!” 

Hu-uh? 

The musician immediately stepped back, seeing the livid face of your lover as he outstretched an arm in front of you for protection. 

“You’re not murdering [Y/N] next! I won’t let you touch her-” 

“Woah-woah!” A new face popped up in the room as the entire jazz band group looked terrified—“Dazai?”

Dazai ran in between Ranpo and the saxophone player, pulling Ranpo and you back. 

“I sincerely apologize for this matter,” Dazai groveled frantically, almost dramatic. “It seems our friend here has gotten very drunk and is acting impulsively! I’m responsible for both of them, so I’ll be taking them now…” 

…

Dazai dragged you and Ranpo out by the collars to the bar counter. 

“Now what was that about?!” you both asked simultaneously, dumbfounded that Dazai had stopped your confrontation with the murderer and even made up a whole excuse for the suspicion. 

“The fact is there is no murderer here,” Dazai calmly said. “The entire case was a setup.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“The President just wanted you two to relax a little because of how diligently you worked; you solved about two cases a day this week, after all. He thought maybe you’d catch on quickly how this was just a scheme, but-” 

“That’s why I couldn’t figure it out! Because you planned this, Dazai!” Ranpo was pouting with his eyes sealed shut and arms crossed, but you could tell he was also a bit relieved that it was only a silly prank by Dazai instead of it being a case he couldn’t find the true answer to. 

Dazai was one of Ranpo’s countable competitors, after all. His intelligence was almost if not as equal to your lover’s. 

“But the extra person in the room?” you asked. “That was still true unless you also hired the doorman to lie about the number.”

“Oh! Well—oddly, the security hasn’t noticed me yet. I’m not even a worker here. I snuck in!”

“So you’re telling me YOU were the extra person at this concert?!” you and Ranpo screamed. 

“Shh! So loud, you two! So now that this case is solved…drinks?” 

…

“I’m sorry for getting frustrated over you,” you apologized to Ranpo as you two sat on the bar stools. “You weren’t wrong; I was being biased whether this was a true mission or not. I really like this jazz band.” 

“Duh, I know,” Ranpo replied, having one of the sweeter cocktails. Of course he did—you had a massive poster of them on your wall.

“…We can come to their concert the next time they perform. Dazai was mean for watching us get worked up over nothing. The music was pretty cool anyway.” 

He gave you a wide grin. You smiled back, shoving a cookie in his mouth. 

“Saved it. Because I knew the best detective in the world would prevail in the end.” 

“Usually you say ‘solve the case in the end’.” 

“Okay well, technically, this wasn’t a case at all—y’know what, forget it.” 

“I’m just kidding. Thanks. For the cookie.” 

You smiled once more. You knew Ranpo meant more than just the sweets by how his cheeks blushed a soft pink. 

reblogs are cherished. <3

reverie is back and in her bsd era i fear...daz’s hair tucked behind his ear>>. ugh he was so polite here. chuuya ‘n his expensive tastes ‘n his expensive dates mwah! lit researched wine lists ‘n wine etiquette for this. v much got carried away on ranpo...it’s okay he’s the cutest and intelligence bows before him! thoo, he’s so so stubborn.

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