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osarina · 17 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 CHIVALRY FELL ON ITS SWORD

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: history always repeats itself. dazai is captured, you're facing enemies on all fronts, and it's only a matter of time before you hit your breaking point. you can't let things turn out the same way they did two years ago. you can't—you'll do whatever it takes.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday my peeps, i hope your week has been good. ive been looking forward to this chapter for sooooo long so i hope you enjoy ;) unfortunately, there will be no wykyk update this week (i mean it this time), i've fallen behind in civzai and really need to focus on it. reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of psychological torture (commit by reader), both reader and dazai are wildly unstable, mori is a bit of a cunt LOL, a bit of legal proceedings in the beginning but i didn't want to deep dive into japanese court proceedings so i just based it mostly off us court proceedings, but again, not entirely accurate because i'm not in that field and didn't feel like doing intense research.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in thIS chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“... Your Honor, I have to object to counsel’s petition for bail, the defendant…”

“... If I may, Your Honor, we don’t even know how this footage was obtained and the prosecution has not acknowledged any of our requests to ensure that this is reliable. For all we know, this footage is edited or illegally obtained. It would be a disgrace to our justice system if we were to keep the defendant detained with no bail…”

“... not only a flight risk, but we’re risking witness and evidence tampering. Respectfully, this isn’t an unarmed robbery the defendant is being accused of, Your Honor, this woman is a threat to public safety, she’s being charged with connection to the most dangerous criminal organization in the Eastern Hemisphere, and not just as any ordinary member, but as an executive. I have to insist-”

“Your Honor, the defendant shouldn’t have even been brought into custody considering all current evidence might not be admissible. And the prosecution cannot sit here making baseless claims of risk when the only supporting evidence is inadmissible. I don’t even understand why I have to sit here and argue this.”

“Counsel seems to think-”

“Enough. Order. I’ll sustain the ob-”

“Your Honor… I don’t mean to interrupt but you may want to see this before…”

“What is it, Hasegawa-san?”

“... I see, very well. The defense’s petition for bail is granted. Bail will be set at one hundred and fifty million yen, bond at thirty million yen. The next hearing will be set for two weeks out, I trust that gives the prosecution enough time to prove the legitimacy of the evidence…”

“Don’t look at any of the cameras.”

“No shit,” you mutter as your attorney, Tachibana, leads you from the courthouse to where a car is waiting to pick you up.

There are so many flashing lights and microphones in your face that you can hardly see a few steps in front of you. So many people talking that each question melds into the next. You couldn’t entertain the media even if you wanted to with them all talking over each other to shout at you. Your head hurts and the bright lights aren’t helping—you grimace as you turn your head to the side but you’re only met with another face full of cameras and microphones.

“Back up,” a familiar voice booms and at once, the tension in your body dissipates as Iceman shoulders his way through the crowd toward you. The man sneers at a paparazzo who tries to cut him off and all but knocks him out of the way to reach forward and grab your wrist, yanking you toward him.

He ushers Tachibana forward and keeps you tucked under his arm as he guides the two of you to the black car. It’s only when you’re inside and the door is shut behind you, that you can finally relax, but it’s only for a split second before Albatross is bursting into laughter in the front seat before you’ve even sat down yourself.

“You look ugly as hell in a prison uniform,” he wheezes, having the audacity to point at you as he turns around to look at you. “God, I never thought this day would come. Someone take a fucking picture.”

“Fuck off,” you snap at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

“The entire world has pictures at this point,” Doc says dryly, looking over you once and frowning at the bruises on your wrists where the cuffs had been tightened too much. He clicks his tongue as he runs his finger across them as you pass by him before sighing, “They really waited as long as they legally could for your arraignment, didn’t they?”

Two whole days. You haven’t eaten because you had to watch the prison guard spit in your food before passing it over to you—evidently, his brother was killed by the Port Mafia and he decided to take that out on you, which was nice. So as if you weren’t dealing with enough bullshit, you haven’t properly slept or eaten in two days.

More than that, you’ve had no confirmation concerning Dazai’s status in two days.

That alone has left you with no appetite and no desire to sleep anyway. You’ve been restless trying to figure what to do if Klaus wasn’t able to get Dazai away from the Guild. That is, restless, and increasingly more violent and angry. You’ve never been someone prone to choose violence as the answer, but you think the only thing that will satisfy you now is the entire organization eviscerated. Not only have they gotten you thrown in prison, but they have Dazai.

You finally take a seat next to Chuuya. He’s stuffed in the back corner of the limo so that no unsavory eyes could catch sight of him when Iceman ushered you and Tachibana into the car. As soon as you take a seat next to him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and squeezes your bicep. You almost want to collapse into him—you’re so tired and hungry and just so mentally and physically drained that all you want to do is sleep, but you know you can’t, not until you have Dazai back.

Just as you’re about to look up at Klaus and ask him how things went, Piano Man speaks up, addressing Tachibana. “How are things looking?”

The man grimaces. “Not good. They could hold her liable for all of the crimes attributed to the Port Mafia if the jury finds the footage as proof of her affiliation,” Tachibana says. “The last time they had a Yakuza boss on trial, they had him sentenced to death and he was only being held vicariously liable for one murder and three assaults. They have her down for six and all of the other crimes they’ve been gathering as evidence against the Port Mafia just in case they were given an opportunity like this. If-”

“Why are we talking about a jury trial?” you ask tightly, giving Tachibana a cool look from the corner of your eye. “Get the charges dropped.”

A frustrated expression crosses Tachibana’s face. “But-”

“No buts, do your goddamn job and get this dismissed,” you tell him before turning your attention to Klaus. “What’s the situation with the journalists?”

Klaus looks mighty proud of himself as he raises his chin. “They’re dead. Do you want to hear how I did it? It was quite ingenious if I do say so myself.”

He looks excited to tell you, eyes gleaming and smiling wide, so even though you should just drill him for information about Ui and Dazai, you decide to entertain him and nod.

“Tell me,” you say, hoping at least hearing that those irritating pests got what they deserved is enough to ease the seemingly insatiable bloodlust the past few days has caused you before you get back to headquarters and have to deal with Ace.

Klaus is clearly trying to hold back a laugh as he prepares to tell you. From the way Atsushi looks a bit green next to him, you know whatever he’s about to tell you is going to be gross.

“They’re called the Ivory Eagle, right?” he says rhetorically, blue eyes dancing as he stares directly at you, waiting for you to nod again. When you do, he continues, “You see, when I was back in Europe with the Pale Flame, we learned a lot about ancient torture and execution methods. Nabakov had the trafficked ability users fight in rings, y’know, gladiator style—the winner of the fight would pick a method to punish the loser with in front of everyone. The vikings had a ritual execution method called the blood eagle, so I thought it would be funny ��cause y’know, the name? Ivory Eagle, blood eagle? They can keep their theme even in death!”

“I should not be hearing this,” Tachibana sighs, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

You snort. “May they soar to greater heights,” you mock their slogan and Klaus lets out a loud bark of laughter, bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“I knew you would get it, I’m so funny.” he laughs, nudging Atsushi hard, but the weretiger only looks like he’s about to start crying, so Klaus looks back at you, teeth glimmering as he smiles widely.

“What happened with Ui?” you ask, glancing down to see Chuuya passing you a bottle of water. You give him a grateful look before redirecting your attention back to your subordinates. “And where’s Akutagawa?”

“That ugly journalist confirmed they worked with the Guild to get the footage from your boyfriend,” Klaus says, and even though you knew this, it still makes you feel sick. “... I went by his apartment. It was totally trashed, there was blood on the sidewalk. I’ve spent the past two days trying to hunt down the Guild but I can’t find them anywhere. I was planning on going to the Armed Detective Agency later today to get that one detective to tell me where they are. Figured they wouldn’t be opposed to helping considering they’re getting the shit end of the stick with the Guild too, I heard two of them were trapped for days in an interdimensional space before they were able to get them out.”

“Akutagawa and Kyouka-chan are out doing rounds around the city. Kyouka-chan found one of the lower-ranked Guild members wandering around the city, she’s hoping that she’ll lead her back to their base,” Atsushi adds, answering your second question.

You let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your lap. Apartment trashed. Blood. The water you had just sipped threatens to come back up, you feel Chuuya squeeze your bicep again to try to comfort you, but you don’t care for comfort, you only want Dazai. You want him back in your apartment, back in your arms, you want him safe, you want him.

You want him.

“We’ll get him,” Chuuya promises like he can hear your thoughts. You suppose it’s probably written all over your face. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? I won’t let the fucking Guild take him from you.”

He’s spent two days with them. God knows what they’ve done to him to try to get information about you—the thought makes your skin crawl, your chest weighs with guilt. You brought him into this life knowing this risk and you still couldn’t protect him. You need to do something, you need to-

“Chuuya,” you say quietly, “can I borrow your phone?”

Chuuya’s brows furrow but he nods, passing his phone over to you. You ignore the way your fingers tremble as you type in a familiar number and press the phone to your ear, you wait a few anxious seconds for the person on the other line to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Leo,” you breathe out. “Are you still in New York?”

“You’re okay,” Leo Tolstoy sighs, the relief in his voice palpable. “I saw the news. I figured they wouldn’t be able to keep you locked up long. I’m still here, yeah, I have a flight to Tokyo in an hour. I just had to finish up-”

“Cancel it,” you say immediately, fingers digging into the thin pants you’re wearing. “I need to call in a favor.”

“Hit me with it,” he tells you. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Good, you think, lips curving up as you tell Tolstoy your plan.

There’s only one way to force Fitzgerald into giving you Dazai back, and you’re willing to go to any lengths to do it.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice notes just as Dazai starts stirring awake. “Good.”

He’s been in and out of consciousness for two days now—awake for a few hours, asleep for double that. He almost wishes that the blow to the head had killed him, because each time he wakes up, he’s questioned sharply about you and he’s tired of it. The first two days of captivity, when Dazai was awake, he spent most of his time staring at the ceiling, your words ringing through his head and your twisted expression plain as day. He’s recounted every word of his conversation with you before he fled, he’s noted every place where he messed up and could have done something different to avoid this, he’s felt so numb that he would almost prefer pain and he’s felt so much regret that it did physically pain him.

Now, he’s just irritated.

Irritated and tired and hungry and most of all, he misses you. Misses you so much that you’re the only thing he can think of clearly. Misses you so much that it makes him sick. Misses you so much that he’s started casting up prayers to gods he doesn’t believe him because he just wants the chance to see your face again.

Thus far, he’s been able to evade answering any questions, but he has a feeling it’s only a matter of time before they start taking more extreme measures to get the information out of him, and Dazai has never been one to deal well with pain. He doubts he’ll be able to get away with lying to throw them off trail for long.

“Nope,” he says tiredly, rolling over onto his side to turn his back on the man. “Still sleeping, unfortunately.”

Dazai doesn’t know who this one is.

He’s gotten used to the other two over the past forty-eight hours—the redhead is called Mark Twain, a high-ranking member of the Guild whose preferred form of torture is casual conversation. It’s predictable and Dazai, naturally, doesn’t fall for it, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He comes into the cell with food and water that Dazai refuses to touch and talks to Dazai from the moment he wakes up to the moment he passes back out. He asks about you and the Port Mafia without actually asking about you and the Port Mafia, talks about his own woman back home and bitches about his work with the Guild, seeing if Dazai will chime in with his own commentary and grievances.

Dazai doesn’t, of course—there’s not much he can say about the Port Mafia anyway, the things you’d talked about with him are irrelevant at this point, and Dazai certainly is not going to tell Twain anything about you. He knows that the Guild must be looking for information on your ability and Dazai will be damned if he lets anything about it slip. The most he’ll make is snide comments, hoping to piss Twain off enough to leave, but then he has to deal with the other man, James, who is far less pleasant to deal with. Dazai can hardly stand the sight of him and he isn’t sure if it’s because 1) he’s just unappealing to look at, 2) his head injury, or 3) he still has a grudge over the head injury.

He thinks maybe it might be all of the above.

Regardless, the voice of the new arrival is neither Twain’s nor James’s, which means he has a new yet equally undesired visitor. Dazai, naturally, is wary of the unknown. He’d overheard Twain and James talking about Francis getting involved and he remembers that you mentioned the leader of the Guild’s name is Francis Fitzgerald. He has a distinct suspicion that this must be him and Dazai’s only thought is that this definitely doesn’t bode well for him.

“Mister Dazai, please, you need not make this difficult on yourself,” Fitzgerald sighs. “We already have all of the information we need anyway. We want to help you.”

What.

Dazai’s cautious now as he sits up to face Fitzgerald, mind racing as he tries to figure out what exactly he means by ‘we have all of the information we need.’ Dazai has been so careful not to let anything slip—even when he was half delirious from his head wound, he bit his tongue. He didn’t utter a single thing until he was certain that his brain was functioning well enough for him to carefully choose each word he spoke.

There’s no way that they managed to get anything from what he’d said.

The blonde man sitting on the opposite side of the room is dressed in a fancy suit and wears a watch that probably costs more than anything Dazai has ever owned in his life. He looks unusually earnest as he leans forward, elbows on his knees as observes Dazai. Dazai thinks that he’s decently good at reading people, and he can’t find a hint of deception in Fitzgerald’s face, which leaves Dazai feeling distinctly unnerved, unable to predict what’s about to happen to him.

“I find that hard to believe when your subordinate bashed my head in two days ago,” Dazai replies, keeping his voice light but watching Fitzgerald carefully.

“My friend, Henry, is quite excitable,” Fitzgerald sighs, faux-remorse dripping from his tone. “I apologize for him, I was very clear that you weren’t to be injured.”

That doesn’t really help Dazai at all. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to press Fitzgerald and figure out what he learned from Dazai. Luckily, he doesn’t have to say much at all because Fitzgerald takes it upon himself to continue talking.

“There were some pieces of information I kept to myself during our endeavor here in Yokohama,” Fitzgerald says. “There are too many… rats scuttering around the sewers. It’s hard to tell who’s listening at any given time. Everyone has their own agendas, and there’s just some information that’s too valuable to risk falling into anyone’s hands but your own. Even supposed allies’.”

Rats. Allies. Agendas. Dazai’s mind races as he notes it all down to tell you as soon as you get him out of here. He doesn’t respond to Fitzgerald’s words, waiting for him to make the mistake of continuing his little monologue so he can have more information to report back to you. From what he’s able to piece together, there’s more than just Fitzgerald and the Guild at work here, but you haven’t mentioned any other organizations besides them, which makes him antsy because if you don’t know that this is multiple organizations working together against the Port Mafia…

You could be in danger.

“I was already made aware of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, watching Dazai for a reaction. He’s careful not to give one, but his words make Dazai’s skin crawl. You’d said that your ability was the most well-guarded secret in the Port Mafia. That only the upper echelon was aware of it.

So how?

The traitor.

Dazai’s throat swells and it’s much harder to keep his distressed emotions off of his face when he remembers the tip-off that Professor Ui had received about a situation happening at the ports on Shinko, remembers that he alluded to someone within the Port Mafia’s inner circle being the informant, remembers that in his meltdown, he never even told you.

Shit.

“Henry, he is also an ability user,” Fitzgerald continues. Dazai is grateful that he seemingly doesn’t notice his increasing panic. “What Maisie Knew, an ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying. My intention in bringing you here was not to interrogate you, but to find out if you knew the extent of the manipulation happening around you.”

Dazai blinks slowly, letting the words process through his head. An ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying… but would that even work on Dazai? You tried to use your ability on him with and without touch and it didn’t affect him, so this one shouldn’t either. And if he wasn’t notifying him when Dazai was lying about knowing nothing about your ability…

“Henry told me that you were telling the truth when they asked you about your knowledge of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, and Dazai almost hates the pity thinly veiled behind the man’s eyes. He doesn’t like anyone thinking that he doesn’t know something about you, but he lets this slide because it might just work in his favor. “Her ability is a form of mental manipulation. She influences the emotions of people around her to trust and adore her. What you felt for that girl was nothing more than what she wanted you to feel—she’s spent months shaping your mind to make you believe you care for her so that in a situation like this, you would choose to protect her even at the cost of your own life.”

The surprise that shifts across Dazai’s face is genuine—not because of the revelation of your ability like Fitzgerald believes—but because Fitzgerald does know your ability, and he knows it in an alarming amount of detail. He wishes he had some way of contacting you now, but he needs to focus now on figuring out how he’s going to play this.

They didn’t kidnap him to interrogate him. They kidnapped him to try to make him willingly turn against you by revealing all of your ‘manipulations’ in an effort to rattle you into making a mistake. A decent plan, honestly, and if Dazai were anyone but Dazai, it might’ve worked… but Dazai is Dazai—he’s never been affected by your ability, or Fitzgerald’s subordinate’s, or any ability for that matter, and he would rather die than turn against you.

But… would it be better to make Fitzgerald think that he has turned against you? It would be safer for him, surely. If the man thought Dazai was swayed to his side, he might even have a chance to escape… but it could also throw you off if Fitzgerald tells you, and Dazai isn’t sure if he wants to risk that considering there’s apparently other allies of the Guild that you don’t know about. You would see through it eventually, but in those few moments that you didn’t…

Any mistake now could be fatal.

“She’s in federal custody right now,” Fitzgerald says.

Dazai almost feels dizzy, hands falling from his lap to the bed to dig his nails into the sheets to steady himself. He knew this—he knew it in his heart when Twain mentioned the flash drive and pointed out the sirens but Dazai had still had hope that you managed to evade arrest, that you wouldn’t have been dragged down by his mistakes.

Fitzgerald is still talking and Dazai knows that he should be listening, but instead his mind racing, thoughts so quick and jumbled that he can hardly get them straight. If you’re in federal custody right now, the last thing you needed was to get out and hear news of Dazai turning against you. You’d be worn thin, stressed, alone. You don’t think clearly when you’re under a ton of stress, especially when people you love are at risk. You try to, but when it gets too much, you shut down like you did at the beach house and you can’t shut down with the Guild at your door and god knows what other enemies lurking in the shadow, preparing to strike.

If you’re in federal custody, then the chances that you’ll see through this is even lower because you’ll already not be thinking clearly. There’s a much higher chance that you don’t see through it, that you think the Guild tortured him until his mind broke and he turned against you. And considering your past with Nakahara Chuuya and his lover, it might be the only logical conclusion your brain comes to.

He can’t risk it. It’ll put you in danger—he’s done enough of that lately, but this time, your life really would be on the line.

Instead, he’ll put his on it.

“No,” Dazai says suddenly, cutting Fitzgerald off mid sentence. The blonde looks at him curiously waiting for him to continue. “No. I don’t believe you—about her, about using her ability on me. I don’t believe any of it. Get out.”

Dazai doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to pretend to be blind with love—maybe he can convince Fitzgerald that he’s still under the effects of your ability, that might buy him a few days, but it won’t last forever. He doubts that the Guild will kill him if they want him to turn against you to batter you down, and they want him to do it willingly, so they’ll probably spend a few more days trying to convince him before they resort to making him turn on you through force.

You just need to get to him before that happens.

Fitzgerald doesn’t look surprised by Dazai’s words, but he does look disappointed. He braces himself for the man to press the issue, but to Dazai’s relief, Fitzgerald stands to leave. Dazai needs time to think, time to formulate how exactly is the best way to go about this to buy as much time as possible.

“I figured that would be the case, months under an ability like that takes more than a few days of separation to be free of,” Fitzgerald tells him before he leaves. “Think on it, you could be very useful to our cause… and we could be useful to you too. I’ll be back for an answer.”

“Don’t come back anytime soon,” Dazai replies snidely as the door closes, pulling the blanket tighter around him and resting his head against the wall.

As soon as the door is closed, a heavy feeling settles over his chest and Dazai feels so alone that it makes him sick. He’s become so used to your presence in his life that every moment without you feels like his chest is being hollowed out. The room he’s in is cold and uncomfortable compared to the warmth of your apartment. He wants to be curled up in your bed, surrounded by your scent, wants to be watching some lame movie or forcing you to watch him play an even lamer video game.

He misses you desperately, and his nails bite into the fabric of the blankets as he tries to ground himself, losing himself in the thoughts of you, praying that you come for him soon.

“Ah! Our resident convict has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Oh, Ace, it’s impressive, truly, how everyday you manage to become more stupid than the last. You must not have any brain cells left in that empty skull of yours… You’re not much unlike a protozoa honestly, ” Piano Man sighs whimsically. When Ace’s face twists in confusion, Piano Man gives him a sweet smile. “That’s a single-celled organism. Basic biology, I fear, thank you for proving my point so quickly.”

“She hasn’t been convicted, you dumb fuck,” Chuuya snaps. “And you sound way too pleased over the matter, should probably choose your tone more carefully considering it was you and your subordinate who got her arrested. Sounds a bit like, I don’t know, treason. Did you betray the Port Mafia, Ace?”

Wow, you think, they came in hotter than you expected.

You don’t even bother to address Ace as you make your way to your place at Mori’s right side, taking a seat in the chair left empty for you. You don’t look at him until you’ve taken your seat, but even then he gives you no cues, violet eyes watching you listlessly as he waits for you to say something.

Once the circular table is fully seated, your gaze finally flits to Ace.

“Go on,” you say. “Answer Chuuya’s question.”

Ace’s face twists at your words. “That’s a ridiculous accusation,” he says, raising his chin. “That-”

“Is it?” you interrupt coolly. “You pride yourself on the use of your collars and their ability to control your subordinates. Either your collars are not quite as effective as you’ve so ardently claimed them to be or you’ve betrayed the Port Mafia. Which is it, Ace? Both will have consequences, naturally, one will just be more… final than the other.”

Unless there’s some otherworldly interference, Ace is going to die today.

He’s the reason you were arrested. His subordinates are notoriously fearful of him and his ability to kill them with just a passing thought once he has the collar around their necks. The chance of one of them acting on their own to try to kill you is slim to none. And you know that he knows you know he did it just from the amusement thinly veiled behind the outraged expression on his face.

He’s too smug.

Something’s not right.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if my efforts to deter disobedience have gone ineffective concerning one of my subordinates.” Ace waves his hand, lavender eyes meeting yours pointedly as he speaks his next words: “No need to fret, I’ve dealt with him accordingly.”

That… was not anticipated. You’re careful not to react to his words, gauging the reactions of the others in the room trying to figure out if this was something they all talked about while you were being held by the government, but Piano Man and Chuuya look just as appalled, even Kouyou hides her pursed lips behind her fan as she gives Mori a careful look.

Mori does not look surprised as the rest of his executives.

What did you do?

Chuuya is the first to speak, voice low, “You’ve what?”

“A betrayal of this magnitude is not something for an executive to handle alone,” Piano Man says, the airy tone of his long gone as he stares at Ace. “Especially the executive in charge of said traitor. You acted out of line—this should’ve been brought in front of us all before any action was taken.”

“Out of line?” Ace’s voice becomes more mocking now, clearly enjoying knowing something that Piano Man doesn’t after the snide comment. “Not at all, I acted on orders of the Boss.”

At once, the conference room goes quiet. You see Chuuya and Piano Man turn to look at Mori for the corner of your eye, but you keep your gaze trained on Ace instead and he keeps his on yours. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, eyes cool and taunting, the corner of his lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“It’s true.”

Mori offers no explanation—he doesn’t need to, he’s the Boss, but you know there’s something else going on here. He never liked Ace, spoke poorly of the man’s easily bought loyalties and undue arrogance. Only gave him the executive position for financial purposes after the Dragon’s Head Conflict left Yokohama in shambles. Let him stay because his arrogance makes him easily manipulated but always keeps him at arm’s length, ready to cut off at the first whiff of betrayal.

And now he’s what? Scheming with the man he’s despised for years against you? Is it punishment for everything that has happened with the two Yakuza syndicates and the Guild? Punishment for Dazai?

You can’t understand it, you can’t.

You look at Mori from the corner of your eye, blood running hot and only barely able to keep the fury off of your face.

What are you planning?

Mori’s lips curve up as if he can hear your thoughts, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at you.

You’ll find out, little hime.

“What is Tachibana-kun’s opinion on the indictment?” Mori asks instead, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the table as he looks at you.

“He’s going to get the charges dropped,” you reply flatly, nails biting into the slacks you’d changed into before coming to the meeting, suddenly feeling far too cornered as you realize you have enemies around every corner—even within your own home. “This will be over within two weeks.”

“Hm.” Mori sounds more entertained than anything as he tilts his head to the side and studies you. “And the Guild? How do you plan to handle them, little hime? More importantly, that boy you’d been silly enough to allow the information that led to your imprisonment… I trust he’ll be properly handled?”

Putting you on blast in front of all of the executives… Kouyou is watching you carefully, Chuuya is stiff, Piano Man tense, and Ace, of course, is mildly amused. You feel like a circus monkey performing for the lot of them and you know it’s exactly what Mori wanted.

You’re sure not to let your irritation slip onto your face as you smile thinly and reply with: “The Guild will be taken care of by the end of the week. I fear that the boy is not the issue in this situation, Ace would be more suited to answer any questions regarding my imprisonment. Isn’t that right?”

Ace’s smile tightens. “Not at all,” he says coldly. “What are you implying?”

“That it was your subordinate that had dealings with the Guild, of course,” you say with a sweet smile. “What else would I be implying?”

“Right.”

“I mean, I do trust that you managed to get information out of him before killing him, right? We’ve all been trained to do that,” you add, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “You did get the information, didn’t you?”

“I would like to know how you plan to handle the Guild considering you’ve failed spectacularly up to this point,” Mori intervenes, preventing you from questioning Ace about the ‘subordinate’ that ‘betrayed the Port Mafia’.

You give him a heavy side-eye, wondering what game he’s playing and why he’s protecting Ace of all people—he must have some plan in the works that involves the man, but what? What could he possibly be using Ace for that’s so important that it makes the cost of keeping a rat in his inner circle trivial? You’ve always struggled to understand the way Mori’s mind works, but never more than now.

You decide to be plain with your accusations now. You’re tired of playing coy; although you’re stuck in limbo now as you wait for Tolstoy to come through with the favor you’ve asked of him, you still feel like you could be doing more productive things to try to figure out how you’ll actually approach Fitzgerald to get Dazai back.

“I don’t feel comfortable divulging that information in this setting,” you say simply, watching as Kouyou’s eyes widen just a bit, Chuuya and Piano Man share a look, and Ace stiffens as he prepares for a scathing comment, but a motion from Mori has them settling down. “Regardless, I think there are more important issues to discuss. Namely, the setbacks we now have to deal with on the political front because of my indictment. I can reach out to the politicians that I’m close enough with that the accusations won’t sway them, but I worry that we might’ve lost a lot of key swing votes in the upcoming bill going through the Diet.”

“We can’t let that bill pass,” Chuuya says tightly.

Kouyou sighs airly as she fans her face. “I can reach out to my connections,” she offers. “I assume Lippmann will have significant influence as well. Between the two of us, we can hopefully compensate for the losses. Do you think the indictment will prevent you from ever returning to handle political affairs?”

You purse your lips. “I doubt I’ll be back at any government events anytime soon, but I’ll be able to get work done from behind the scenes. It’ll be harder, but not impossible.”

Kouyou hums as she nods, glancing back at Mori. “If this is all, I had a prior commitment with our friends in Tokyo… It would be best for me to not miss it considering the circumstances.”

“I also have business to handle,” you say, gaze cutting back to Mori. “If necessary, I can meet with you later to tell you about how I plan to handle the Guild.”

“It’s not necessary,” Mori says lightly. “You’re dismissed, I promised Elise-chan tea time anyway. I expect results this time, little hime… Successful ones.”

Your lips tighten. “Of course,” you reply tensely. “I hope by the time of our next meeting, the rat infestation will be handled. I’ve seen a few too many since I’ve been back at headquarters today, it’s unsightly.”

Ace bristles and looks to Mori like a child seeking their parents’ support. How ironic, you think bitterly, but you don’t give anyone time to respond to your words as you rise to your feet and leave the room, intent on getting back to your apartment as quickly as possible. You don’t even wait for Chuuya or Piano Man as you get into the elevator and press the button to close the doors as quickly as possible.

Your gaze is pinned on the cityscape as the elevator begins to go down to the first floor. The sun has crossed its point in the peak of the sky—it’s still midday, it’s been sixty-six hours since you were taken into custody, likely just as long as Dazai’s been captured by the Guild

Sixty-six hours.

The Guild is not an organization that usually stoops to torture. Of all of the organizations in the world’s shadows, the Guild is probably the one closest to the light—they take advantage of it by forcing its members into the public spotlight. It’s why they’ve done so well in Yokohama so far; they’ve used their political presence to force countries into giving them diplomatic immunity, essentially making them untouchable.

You’re sure they have some degree of blood on their hands, everyone in this world does, but torturing a civilian of a foreign country would be a bold move—if it got out, and you would make sure it did, it would ruin their station… But then again, would they even care?

Fitzgerald was so desperate to get his hands on Atsushi for whatever reason—the bounty and now this… There might not be any length he wouldn’t be willing to go to in order to get his hands on the boy. And Dazai… he wouldn’t give up the information, you know it in your heart. You wish that he would if only so he could protect himself, you’d be able to pivot and readjust your plans, but he won’t, especially not after his spiels about being a burden and wanting to help.

What an idiot, you think desperately, ignoring the way your eyes suddenly sting as you make your way out of the main headquarters to head over to your own building. You’re not even fully processing everything that’s happening around you—you ignore the subordinates that greet you, don’t even hear Albatross calling your name, and when you get to your building, you don’t even notice the doorman sitting at the desk in your building.

It’s not until you get back up to your apartment that you’re finally able to break down.

Physically and mentally drained from two days in custody and now Mori’s schemes, it only takes the sight of Dazai’s sweater tossed on the back of your couch and his backpack lying haphazardly on the ground next to it for you to crumble. You don’t even make it to the couch—your knees give in as soon as your fingers brush the soft material of his sweater. You hit the ground hard, back pressed to the back of the couch as you pull the sweater down to your knees and you cry.

It still smells like him—well, a mixture of you and him since he’s started using your bath soaps—and you miss him so bad that it makes your chest cave in. You muffle the ragged gasp you take in with the sweater and curl in on yourself; you miss him, you miss him so bad that it’s painful, so bad that regret weighs on you like the burden of the sky, so bad that you think you might die. You’ve felt pain like this before when Itou died, but Itou’s death had not been entirely in your control, not like how this was.

You let this happen. The moment you let him into your life, you damned him.

You’ve been teetering on the edge of collapse for days, only sheer willpower and the thin shred of pride you had left prevented you from falling apart during your time in prison, but now there’s nothing left to keep you together. Any remaining willpower was obliterated the moment you walked into your apartment and saw his sweater and backpack exactly where he left them before fleeing because of your words; any remaining pride was destroyed by Mori and his schemes refusing you at least some semblance of justice for your own imprisonment.

Now alone, faced with only the consequences of your own decisions as company, you’re forced to acknowledge the bitter truth: you may never see Dazai again.

You may have gotten him killed.

He may already be dead—spent his last moments alone and in pain, wondering if you were ever going to show up.

You try to convince yourself that Fitzgerald won’t kill him before trying to use him as a bargaining chip over you, but the thoughts are only shallow consolations because you can’t push away the image that’s been haunting you since the day you met him. His body cold and rotting after having been abandoned in one of the dumping grounds the underworld uses as a mass grave, forgotten and nameless, left for the rate to devour. You knew this would happen from the beginning, but you still allowed it.

You’ve never prayed before.

You’ve long believed that if there was a god out there, it was a cruel one who took delight in suffering because what other god would allow people to suffer the way you have?

What god would allow an eight year old girl to sit amongst corpses for hours only to be saved by a man who would drag her down a path so dark that her blood would rot black and her soul would be so far beyond salvation before she was even old enough to attend secondary school?

What god would show someone love only to rip it away before his very eyes in the most brutal way possible?

What god would dangle the ‘what ifs’ right in front of your face just to taunt you knowing that the moment you let yourself indulge them, you would be reminded exactly why they should’ve remained ‘what ifs’?

You’ve never prayed before, but now, you find yourself crying to any that might listen to you because you don’t know what else to do. There’s no guarantee that your plan will work and you can’t give Fitzgerald what he wants, you can’t. So instead, you cry, you beg, you plead, you bargain. You don’t know what divine being might be out there, but for the first time in your life, you hope that there is one, because you’ve never saved a single person in your life. You got Itou killed, you got Chuuya’s lover killed, countless men on the warfront who were banking on your ability fix their minds, at this point, you’re sure that even the loss of your family and village was somehow blood on your hands—everywhere you’ve been, ruin and death have followed you, and this will be no different.

You won’t be able to save him, just like you’ve never been able to save anyone else before. Your only hope lies in the hands of the very beings that have designed this moment and every other misfortune of yours before this. It’s a sick joke, you think, but still, you pray. You cry, and beg, and plead, and bargain. You ask them to bring him back to you, you tell them that he’s good and that he never belonged in this life; you promise that if they bring him back to you, you’ll do what you should’ve done from the very beginning.

You swear it.

You don’t know how long you stay on your floor with his sweater pressed to your chest—could have been minutes or hours, you don’t even hear the elevator arriving at your floor, don’t notice someone is in the room with you until you feel fingers brush your shoulder. You stiffen and futilely try to dry your eyes, lifting your gaze to figure out who had entered your apartment without calling up first. There’s only a handful of people it might be and-

And for just a split second, you think that it might be Dazai.

It’s not, of course, your eyes meet the familiar ones of Klaus’s, the expression he wears is full of guilt, regretful, and just as your lips part to ask him what he wants, he whispers: “I’m sorry I couldn’t find him. I really did try.”

You’ve only seen Klaus cry twice before. Once, two weeks after you took him in when he realized he was finally free of the fighting rings he’d been forced to compete in since his ability manifested. And a second time after he failed his first mission, tossed back into a memory that had him curling on the ground begging you not to send him back. Now, he doesn’t cry, but his throat spasms and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I know you did, Klaus,” you say, voice too raspy for your liking

“... I left him alive,” Klaus tells you after a few moments. Before you can ask what he’s talking about, he continues, “Ui. I thought you might want to be the one to deal with him.”

At once, any exhaustion that might’ve been plaguing you disappears, the ice that spreads through your veins promises only one thing.

“Bring me to him.”

“It has been two days since little miss princess was released from prison, how’s that make you feel?”

Dazai stares blankly at Twain, who looks far too pleased as he tilts his chair back and watches him for a reaction. Dazai wishes that he was closer so that he could kick the chair back and watch him go sprawling, but even if he was closer, his body feels rooted to the bed he’s sitting on. Dazai has alway had a quick brain, but now it’s slow as Twain’s words echo through his head on repeat and he starts to understand the implications of them, unable to accept them as truth.

“Guess she doesn’t care about you as much as ya thought she did.” Twain shrugs like it's all some big joke, grin crooked. “Hasn’t even bothered to reach out to ask us about you. Port Mafia’s been active too, guess she just has more important things to deal with than some kid she played around with for a few months. Francis seems more bothered by it than I thought he would. I think he really thought she’d really fight for you—for your sake.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, gaze sliding from Twain to stare at the wall in front of him. It’s been a long four days in Guild custody. He’s hardly had a moment to himself, and he’s been careful to keep up the act of the lovesick fool who refuses to see things as they ‘are,’ but he’s tired and lonely and he misses you. It’s all wearing him out.

He can keep up the act—if it means protecting you, he could do this forever—he’s put on masks and fronts for people his whole life, this is nothing compared to all of that… it’s just that it’s harder when he’s had a taste of life with someone who he doesn’t need to put up masks for. It’s harder when he wants nothing more than to just be back in your apartment, basking in your presence. It makes him dizzy with longing and it makes him careless.

And… he thinks Twain’s words are hitting him a lot harder than they should be.

“I’m not all too surprised though,” Twain continues absently, waving his hands around. “You’re not anything special, and I heard her boy Tolstoy’s back in town. She doesn’t need you to entertain her anymore now that he’s around.”

For a second, Dazai can see the dams cracking. All of the pent up emotions that have been building the past few days batter the splintering walls holding them back, and Dazai can only barely bring himself to try to reinforce them because now’s not the time for this. But every time he manages to fortify one section of the crumbling dam, another starts to collapse.

It can’t be true. It can’t be—Dazai knows this, in his heart, he knows it—what you had with him… it was special. It was. (Wasn’t it?) The way you looked at him, no one could look at someone that way and not mean it. No one could speak the words you did and not mean them. There must be something else going on, you must be planning something—you’re not going to rush headfirst into a trap, not when it could end with Dazai’s life in danger and especially not with your past with the Serpent’s Tongue, but…

… but Twain’s mention of Tolstoy rattles Dazai badly. You’ve talked about Tolstoy before to him, and it was always with a certain fondness that made Dazai uneasy, and for a second, Dazai thinks it might be possible that you could just be cutting your losses with him and moving on. Because Twain is right, Dazai is nothing special, and it’s not like the two of you ended off on a good note before his capture—you were mad at him, he was cruel to you, he blamed you for all of this even though he forced it onto you.

Dazai wouldn’t even really be able to blame you for not coming for him after that; for months, he’s been forcing your hand but when he felt backed into a corner, he threw it all in your face.

Not even to mention that it might not even be as simple as you coming to save Dazai—there were other factors at play too, the Port Mafia being the biggest. You’re an executive, you can’t just throw everything away to come rescue him when he got himself into this situation after you explicitly warned him that this would happen.

If you had to choose between him and the Mafia… could he really be certain that you would choose him in that scenario? He wants to say yes, he does, but the word feels weighted and bitter on his tongue, like he knows it’s not quite so cut and dry.

Realistically, you might not come for him. Even if Twain is wrong and it’s not a matter of whether you care about him enough to come for him, there are too many variables that could prevent you from coming for him… but Twain might not be wrong.

“Mark,” Fitzgerald’s familiar voice chides as the man steps into the room Dazai is staying in. He doesn’t even hear the sigh and comment that Twain lets out before leaving because he’s too lost in his own thoughts.

Dazai has never felt so entirely out of control of a situation like this before—he’s always been so careful and meticulous in his interactions with people and his surroundings because he likes being able to predict how people will act around him, it makes it easier for him to figure out how he should act. He’s even had a good hold on himself, learned how to school his emotions and convert ones he doesn’t like into ones that are easier for him to manage. But everything about this has just been so impossible for him to get a handle on, he’s tried in every way that he could, but the realization of the fact that you might not be coming for him is sending him over the edge

“I wanted to break the news to you myself,” Fitzgerald says and Dazai feels bitter and angry about the sympathy in his voice, wants to spit at him. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, much less his, but he only finds himself staring listlessly at the man instead. “I waited a few days to see if she would reach out, but she never did… I’m afraid I can’t keep waiting anymore, I need to move on with the next stage of my plan.”

This is it, Dazai thinks distantly—now is when they’ll finally switch from persuasion to force. He thought he would have a bit longer to figure out how he would proceed and now he can’t even get himself thinking straight to try to figure out how to evade this. His thoughts are scattered and distant and so many different and unfamiliar emotions are battering him from every angle; he can hardly pay attention as the man across from him speaks.

“I want you to cooperate willingly,” the Guild leader continues, but his words are going in one ear out the other. “... don’t have to worry about them targeting you for betrayal. We have enough resources to shield you from the Port Mafia. Additionally-”

“No,” Dazai says quietly—the refusal slips out before he can even process it.

Fitzgerald pauses. “No?”

“No,” he reiterates, voice more strained, the words tumbling from his lips. “No, I don’t need your protection. I’m not going to cooperate. I won’t betray her—not for anyone, but especially not you. She’ll come. I know it.”

Something changes in Fitzgerald’s expression at Dazai’s words; it becomes twisted for just a second, but then it softens, his lips curl up into a faint smile. One that’s almost fond, but Dazai can’t understand why for the life of him.

“I see, so even knowing all of this and realizing that she might not be coming for you, you still choose to stand at her side,” he murmurs. He doesn’t try to persuade Dazai like he thought he would. “There are not many who are able to see the worst of someone and still make that choice… I’ve only met one other… You remind me much of her.”

“She chooses me too,” Dazai says. He thinks, for a second, that he’s only saying it to scare Fitzgerald into realizing that you’ll come for him, but as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows that it’s true. That he believes it. He believes you’ll choose him, he believes you’ll come for him no matter what the cost might be. Even after everything that happened the other day, even knowing that you’ve been free for days and haven’t made any moves to rescue him yet, his faith in you hasn’t wavered. “She’ll come for me, and you’ll regret this.”

Fitzgerald exhales as he rises to his feet, gaze lingering on Dazai for just a moment before he tells him, “For your sake, I hope your faith is not misplaced.”

“The human psyche is unbearably fragile. It’s one of the first conclusions I came to during my studies,” you say absently, sitting back in your chair. “I don’t have a combative ability. I can’t control any elemental force and I don’t have a superhuman body. I can’t summon entities to fight on my behalf and I certainly can’t shapeshift. Chuuya spent a lot of time studying physics to fine tune his power, my path laid in psychology. You see, my ability isn’t flashy or showy like many others, but it is an ability nonetheless, and even the weakest abilities can become dangerous in the right hands.”

Ui Koutarou stares up at you from the corner that he’s curled up in, his pupils are blown wide and his skin is pale and sweaty. You don’t know if he’s looking through you or at you, but you suppose it doesn’t matter.

“Usually, conditioning a human mind to have automatic responses to particular stimuli can take months, but I’ve learned to utilize my ability in a way that can speed up that process from months to days,” you explain, watching carefully as you flick the lighter in your hands. “You’ve realized that, of course, I’ve spent the past two days here rewiring your brain to react to things the way I want it to. You can’t control the way your heart starts racing when you see this flame, right? I can see the way your breath is short, your pupils dilated. You don’t have any reason to be scared of it, it’s harmless, but you’re still terrified. Why?”

He doesn’t answer, of course, you didn’t say the word, but when you rise to your feet and take a step forward, he scrambles back impossibly further, shrinking into the corner. Your lips curve up as you flick the lighter off and take a seat, watching the way he immediately begins to relax again.

“My ability isn’t mind control, I fear if it was, my life would be much more simple,” you sigh, looking up at the ceiling momentarily before lowering your gaze back down to him. “I can induce emotions and states in the human brain—the weak-minded naturally are much easier than the strong-willed, but I can make both bend to my will, it’s just a matter of how much effort I’m willing to put into it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you observe him and then pull a pen from your pocket, tossing it in his general direction. You can see the way his chest visibly stutters at the sight of it, breath ceasing, and then he darts to the opposite side of the room. In his desperate flee, his foot brushes the pen and you smile lightly as you activate your ability, watching the way he immediately hits the ground, screaming his throat raw as he curls into a ball. After deactivating your ability, you wait a few seconds for him to calm down before continuing.

“The human psyche is fragile, but the brain is very malleable. As soon as it recognizes that a certain action will always bear a negative consequence, it will adapt and do everything it can to prevent you from taking that action to avoid the negative consequences.” You lean forward, looking down at him. “It’s recognized now to associate fear with a flame and a pen. You can’t control the way that the sight of either of these two objects make you react—it’s reflexive because your brain has already taken the necessary steps to ensure that you don’t get close enough to either to trigger the consequence that comes along with touching it.”

The flame is a necessary step. It’s easier to force the brain to associate fear with something that is inherently dangerous, and you needed to see how long it might take for you to move on to something that’s not inherently dangerous. It took three hours of conditioning to make his brain adapt enough to have reflexive responses to the sight of fire.

Then you moved onto a pen, because you thought it was ironic for a journalist to fear the same thing he uses to complete his job. That took six hours.

“When you stayed away from the two objects, I rewarded you,” you explain with a thin smile. “It must’ve been so relieving… all of the pleasant emotions you felt after nearly five days of being locked up here. Happiness, hope, gratitude. I’m sure it was confusing too, because you didn’t know why you felt that way but you were so quick to bask in them that it didn’t matter.”

Ui continues to watch you, so you continue speaking. You think you’re talking more to yourself than to him, you don’t even know if he’s capable of processing your words at this point, but you need to keep yourself busy while you wait.

“When you touched the objects, I punished you,” you continue. “Guilt, sadness, but my favorite is fear. It’s the easiest emotion to induce in someone, it’s not one that I have to actively keep applied because the human mind spirals once it has a taste of it. They call it the mind killer.”

The last sentence tastes bitter on your tongue. It reminds you of Dazai.

“I did the same thing with your ability to speak… Speaking is a voluntary action, it’s a bit different than conditioning reflexive responses, but it still worked. Now, you can’t speak until I say the word, right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“Yes,” he rasps, voice wet and shaky. “You’re right.”

“I even made sure that no one else could trigger it. I brought Klaus in here and had him order you to speak. Every time you listened to his order, I punished you. Every time you listened to mine, I rewarded you. Do you remember that?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“I remember,” he replies. “I remember.”

“Dazai Osamu was captured by the Guild because you worked alongside them to have me arrested. Isn’t that right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

Your voice is colder this time as you say: “Speak.”

“I didn’t mean for him to get kidnapped.” He has the nerve to sound like he’s about to cry. “None of my students, I didn’t mean for it-”

“That’s not what I asked. Speak.”

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Yes, he got kidnapped because of me.”

“That’s right,” you agree, “and he might die because of you too. Was it worth it?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“No,” he whispers. “No, it wasn’t worth it.”

“I know,” you say, more to yourself than him. “But I suppose we’ve all done things that had consequences that weren’t worth it.”

You sigh, glancing to the side to see a figure waiting outside the cell. Chuuya’s face is twisted in displeasure, an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“If it were up to me, I would let you live,” you admit. “A journalist too scared to ever pick up the pen again… the man trying to bring down the Port Mafia little more than a puppet for one of its executives… an ironic fate, possibly one worse than death.”

You rise to your feet and walk to the door of the cell, leaving the room. Before you leave, you look over your shoulder and say:

“Luckily, your fate is not up to me.”

You leave the cell and close the door behind you, looking up to meet Chuuya’s familiar eyes, cool and disapproving.

“Don’t you think you might be going too far?” he asks quietly.

“Says the man who leveled an entire ward,” you reply coldly and he winces at the reminder. “I don’t want to hear anything from you about ‘too far’. If anything, I haven’t gone far enough.”

Chuuya sighs, but he doesn’t press the matter.

“You should get some rest,” he finally says. “You’ve pretty much been up for two days straight, and I know you didn’t sleep while locked up.”

You click your tongue and look away. “I slept yesterday.”

“For an hour and a half,” Chuuya replies dryly. “Torturing the fuckin’ journalist isn’t going to bring Dazai back-”

“No, but it makes me feel better,” you interrupt, gaze sharpening.

“Does it?”

“It does, in fact,” you say, giving him a thin smile, “more than you could ever believe.”

Chuuya lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. “I’m worried about you,” he says, voice tight. “I-”

“I don’t care, Chuuya,” you say, watching as Chuuya’s face twists in frustration. “I don’t need your concern. I need Osamu back and until he is-”

“This isn’t going to bring him back, you-”

“I don’t care!” You don’t even realize you’ve raised your voice, don’t even register your own movements as your hands dart out to shove Chuuya back hard. He only stumbles a few steps, but he gives you a pointed look. Suddenly, you want to cry again and your voice wobbles as you repeat, “I don’t care.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Torturing Ui Koutarou isn’t going to do anything to help Dazai. The man is useless, gave information to the Guild that he shouldn’t have, but has no idea their whereabouts or even who he spoke to. And it’s not making you feel better like you claim it is, the sick bit of glee you may feel watching the journalist-turned-husk dissipates quickly whenever the thought of Dazai crosses your mind.

The Guild hasn’t even reached out to you.

You don’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad sign—probably a bad one. If they were trying to use him as leverage over you and the Port Mafia, then they would’ve done that by now. They could be waiting for you to reach out, it would give them the advantage in negotiations, but you can’t reach out before you have something to negotiate with.

But the longer you wait… they’ll use it against Dazai. They’ll tell him you don’t care to come after him. They’ll tell him you’ve been out of prison for two days, yet you haven’t bothered to reach out to the Guild to get him back. They’ll make him feel worthless and Dazai already has such a poor perception of himself that you fear he’ll believe it, but you can’t do anything yet.

Not yet, but soon.

Soon.

“The Diet postponed the military bill,” Chuuya says, changing the subject. Your gaze snaps back over to him. “Ane-san just got word from one of her friends in the House of Councillors. They pushed it two weeks out.”

You grimace instantly, shaking your head. “They want to see what happens with the indictment. If it gets dropped or goes to trial. If it goes to trial, we’ll lose more swing votes.”

“I asked Piano Man if he could talk to Tachibana, see what’s going on with getting the charges dropped, I know you have a lot on you right now, but I figured you’d want to know this,” Chuuya murmurs apologetically, squeezing your wrist.

Dazai is gone. The Guild is at your doorstep. There are countless indictments that you’re not sure are going to get dropped. The military bill is still looming over you. God, it’s never ending. You’re so tired.

“I’m glad you told me,” you finally tell him, but your voice is strained. “I’ll figure something out about the bill if the worst case scenario happens.”

Chuuya’s lips part like he’s about to speak, but he pauses suddenly, eyes flickering behind you. A dreadful feeling suddenly hangs over you as you turn around to face none other than Mori—the man never comes to the torture rooms himself so you know he must be looking for someone and that someone is very likely you.

Chuuya takes off his hat and lowers his head. You usually would follow suit but you don’t this time, keeping your chin high as you stare at Mori. His lips only curve up in response to your lack of respect, much to your displeasure.

“Chuuya-kun, may I?” Mori hums, doesn’t have to specify what he wants because Chuuya knows, nodding and excusing himself so Mori can speak to you alone.

His eyes slide away from you to the cell that holds Ui Koutarou. You watch as he looks between the pen on the ground and the way the man is as far away from it as possible. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, lifting his fingers to the chest pocket of his lab coat, pulling out the pen he always has stashed in there before tossing it at him. Ui is unable to dodge it fast enough, doesn’t realize what’s happening until too late.

The moment the pen touches his body, you activate your ability, watching him let out another blood curdling scream before focusing your attention back on Mori, who looks oddly pleased by what he’s found.

“Two days of work?” he questions.

“A little over.”

“How impressive,” he murmurs—for the first time, he says it without the mocking lilt that usually accompanies it and your throat swells, eyes flickering away from him to the wall.

You know that he’s probably only saying it to try to ease your anger at him, but you can’t help the way it makes you feel after years of trying to get him to say those very words to you and mean them.

“Did you know?” you finally ask him, voice too hoarse for your liking.

“Did I know what?” Mori asks, raising his eyebrows to look down at you with sharp eyes that tell you he knows exactly what you’re asking but isn’t going to make this easy for you.

“Did you know that Ace was setting me up? Was it punishment?” Your nails dig deep into your palms as you wait for a response, so much so that you can feel the blood trickling between your fingers. “Did you?”

“Of course not, I would never risk our political position so recklessly. Especially with the military bill in the Diet,” Mori scoffs, looking away for a moment before glancing back down at you. “Nor would I risk you so recklessly. You should know that by now, little hime.”

You avert your gaze, shaking your head. He’s only saying this to appease you, you know it, you don’t know why you’re still falling for it.

“I don’t know anything that goes on in your mind,” you bite back, grateful that your voice is steadier than how you feel. “Why isn’t he being punished then? He betrayed the Port Mafia.”

“I still have something I need him to do,” Mori replies easily, lips curving up into a smile that unsettles you. “... Don’t fret, my dear, when the time comes, you can be the one to handle his execution.”

You click your tongue sharply. “It better be soon.”

You can only define the smile on his face as sinister, and you almost regret your words when he replies, “It will be,” because you don’t know what exactly he has planned for him to be smiling like that.

Before you can interrogate him on what the hell he’s even talking about, Klaus comes stumbling down the steps with wide eyes and an excited expression on his face. He pauses when he sees Mori, gaze darting between the two of you.

“I’ll speak to you later, little hime,” Mori says dismissively—you wonder what he came down here for, he wouldn’t have come to speak to you without some sort of agenda and you don’t know what he would have achieved from this conversation beyond unnerving you. “... Keep up the good work.”

Your throat tightens as he turns to leave, gliding past Klaus who awkwardly lowers his head in respect as he walks by. As soon as he’s out of sight, Klaus turns to you, lips spreading in a toothy smile.

“Tolstoy is here.”

Your eyes widen instantly. “Take me to him.”

You thought he would be a bit longer. Your chest is tight with anticipation as you follow Klaus to another level in the main headquarters. You were expecting to have to wait at least another day or two for him to complete the favor you asked for him and another thirteen hours for him to fly from New York City to Yokohama. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Tolstoy has always exceeded your expectations, but still… you hadn’t dared hope.

The man is leaning outside the door Klaus leads you to, lips curved up in a familiar smile, blue eyes glittering playfully as soon as he catches sight of you.

“Princess,” he greets, holding his hand out for you to place yours in. You roll your eyes fondly as the blonde lifts your hand to his lips to ghost a kiss against your knuckles. He winks at you. “She’s all yours.”

You thank him quietly before pushing open the door to enter the conference room in front of you. The woman waiting inside is prim and elegant, wearing a long dress with jewels decorating her neck and wrists. Her expression is cool and closed off at first glance, but you can see the glassiness of her eyes and the way her thin fingers tremble in her lap.

You give the woman a soft smile as you approach, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in yours. You make sure your expression is gentle and genuine as you look up at her, watching as your ability instantly goes to work when her fingers stop trembling and her own expression softens as she looks down at you.

“Hi, Zelda,” you greet, voice sweet and honeyed. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m a friend.”

When Zelda Fitzgerald lets out a soft breath of relief, the tenseness in her shoulders easing, you know that she’s made the fatal mistake of believing you and your smile becomes a bit more authentic.

Finally, you can make your move.

“Come, let’s go somewhere more comfortable. We have a lot to talk about.”

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

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prim-and-rotten · 5 months ago

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`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 girls night

pairing: (fem)yandere!bestfriend x reader

summary: during a relaxing sleepover with your best friend, you try to cancel the next in favor of a new guy.

a/n: not sure I like how I ended it but ill post it anyway. a tame one for my first

warnings: implied stalking and murder at the end

delicate fingers draw random shapes around your back. jasmine is humming softly to her playlist in the background, a private one, tailor made to suit both of your tastes. it's melodies are blurred and distant, dulled by the heavy blanket of exhaustion enveloping you.

your nights spent together always come to a close like this. Next to two emptied wine glasses sitting at her bedside table, you're now both laying on the softness of her queen sized bed. skincare done, another matching set of glossy polish sticking to your nails, dressed in warm matching pjs she bought a few days prior for the occasion, and hair put up in another heatless overnight curl hack you found online.

"are you falling asleep already?" you can hear the cheeky grin in her voice. the sun is down and the lights are dim, the clock at her bedside table reading 23:36. "It's friday, sleepyhead... i was hoping we'd stay up a little longer." with a quiet snicker, her hand is now resting flat against your back, and it takes a stupid amount of strength in you to not whine and ask her to keep going. really, how could she blame you? she always goes out of her way to make you as comfortable as possible and then acts confused when your eyelids start feeling heavy.

"what else did you have planned for tonight?" you stay still, knowing that if you get her talking and focused on something else she'll go back to aimlessly drawing shapes into your back. and she does. "i was thinking we should watch another scary movie." a sigh escapes you. "you always pick the worst, it's gonna keep me up all night." she snickers again, a bit louder this time now that she knows you're not asleep. "oh no, you'll have to spend more time with me. how terrible!". her hand is on your arm now. "come on, you know that's not what i meant."

a silent beat passes, and her comforting touch almost lulls you back to sleep. almost.

"fine. then before you sleep, let's pick out a recipe for sunday's dinner. you should come over earlier so we can make it together, it'll be fun. i'm getting tired of takeout." she's playing with your hand now, admiring her work and already thinking of what color she should paint your nails next once they start chipping.

sunday. you have your sleepovers on fridays and sundays. sometimes when your schedule allows it, you have them on saturdays too. it's something you've been doing together since high school, and while your schedule now is a little more busy due to school and your part time jobs, you still try to stay consistent with your established routine. you have to pick up your coworkers shift tomorrow, so the next one should be on sunday. wait... you changed plans for sunday. right, your date. you never told her about that. shit.

"actually, i can't do sunday.." she pauses. "why? I thought you're free," the dissatisfaction is clear in her tone. you already know how she's going to react once you tell her, but you can't come up with a lie on the spot. so with no choice left, you finally turn to her and hesitantly begin to explain.

"do you remember seth from last week?" her eyebrows furrow. you met seth after she regrettably left you unattended for a quick trip to the bathroom at the frat party you dragged her to last week, one she really, really did not want to go to. if there's one thing jas hates, it's sweaty frat boys making moves on her and worst of all you. she couldn't care less about making new girl friends either because she already has you, and in her eyes you're all she really needs.

"no." that's a lie. yes she remembers, unfortunately so. when she saw you two tucked away at a corner a little too close for comfort, she almost gagged. she walked, no, practically ran to you to drag you away from his filthy hands. what could he possibly have said to you to put that smile on your face? it's not the kind you give to her, it's cute and shy and your cheeks are red and she can't tell if it's the alcohol in your system or him who made them bloom into that pretty color. seth, whose name honestly rolls off her tongue like shit. seth, the greasy frat boy with the ugly mug. the one you're somehow actually interested in. great.

"you don't? i don't remember you drinking that much." your voice is quieter, like you're trying to tread lightly. because of course you are, she's doing a pretty terrible job at hiding her disgust, and at this realization she tries to tone it down for your sake. "yeah I don't, remind me." so you do. just in case you drop some details about the conversation you had at the party, so she doesn't have to ask outright for all the details and out herself for being obsessive. but you don't add anything new about the party, instead, you tell her you had been texting for just a few days now. he has your number. yuck.

"you've been texting and you didn't tell me?" she can feel the tension in the room now, the same room that was previously occupied by nothing but warmth and comfort. she's trying to backtrack now, putting away the face of slight disgust she had put up and replacing it with a smile of disbelief at an attempt at making you feel less guilty. she knows why you wouldn't tell her right away, this isn't the first time she's reacted to this kind of thing negatively. this is not a habit she wants you to form, so she needs to do some damage control. to make you feel comfortable with talking about your love life again. how is she supposed to protect you from these greaseballs if she doesn't know you're speaking to them in the first place?

so she brings back the playfulness that was there before. she's playing with your hand again to put you at ease, so that you hopefully start rambling about him, and luckily you do.

he approached you at the party and you found him funny so you exchanged numbers. you've been texting back and forth for the past 4 days. you think he's cute and charming. he asked you out 2 days ago, and your schedules only allowed for the date to happen on sunday. you're really looking forward to it. how unfortunate.

"isn't it a bit early? i don't really trust him." you let out a chuckle at that, "i could count the amount of people you trust in one hand." touché. "i'm just looking out for you." you sigh. "i know, but you don't have to. i can handle it." she raises an eyebrow at that, and you know exactly what she's about to say. "don't forget who was left picking up the pieces every time you got stood up. I don't mean to be a dick by bringing it up but i'm the one who's left having to take care of you, and i hate seeing you cry over the same breed of asshole over and over again." there's another beat of silence.

shes right of course, so you can't really come up with another rebuttal. "you know where to go if something happens," and you do. every last date you've gone to ended with you spending the night at her place, the one place you feel comfortable going to for anything, with puffy eyes, a box of tissues and a big headache. the conversation ends here.

it's silent again, and all you can hear is the music playing and the air conditioner whirring. it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, you've turned to your side and jasmine continues to play with your back until she hears the telltale sign of light snoring. she can't join you just yet, not until she's done with her research.

not until she knows his schedule and has a plan laid out. the guilt of being the sole reason you keep getting stood up does eat at her at times like these, because she knows it makes you insecure. what else are you supposed to think? but it's okay, because at the end of the day it's always her you come back to, and she's pretty damn good at bringing your confidence back up if she does say so herself. it's her you seek out for comfort, and if she can't have you for herself, she'll do anything to keep it that way.

#jasmine ❀#yandere x reader #yandere best friend x reader #fem yandere #fem!yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere

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blckbarbiedoll · 5 months ago

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I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker (Patrick Zweig x f!black!reader)

Based on this post by @luvmoonie

(Let's pretend that Patrick and Art didn't know Tashi yet and that Patrick actually went to college😭This takes place in the college era. I'm so sorry if this is ooc or badly written btw I literally went through 4 drafts for this.)

I know I have good judgement I know I have good taste It's funny and it's ironic That only I feel that way Let's face it, you didn't exactly have the best track record for good boyfriends. Although you'd never admit to it. It just seemed like each guy you saw was worse than the last. You had decided to stop focusing on guys and start focusing on school and gymnastics. Until you met him. Patrick Zweig.

Against your better judgment, you and your roommate, Tashi, had decided to take a well deserved study break and go to a party being held at frat house. Everything was going fine until she left you to make out with some random guy. You walked over to the drink table and poured an unknown alcohol into a red cup. You quickly turned around and collided with someone.

"Shit!" You cursed, spilling the drink on your dress. "Watch where you're going!"

"You bumped into me, sweetheart." The tall brunette man replied. He took a puff of his cigarette before blowing the smoke to the side.

"Asshole." You scoffed before going into a bathroom to clean yourself up.

"Let me help." He followed you into the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel before wetting it.

"I can do it." You took the towel and patted it on your dress.

"Sorry about your dress." He took another puff and blew the smoke forward.

"Can you not?" You waved the smoke away.

"Sorry." He put it out on the sink and tossed it into the toilet.

You rolled your eyes and groaned with disgust. "You're fucking gross."

"I'm Patrick."

"Good for you."

He chuckled and smirked down at you. "Ya know, this is the part where you tell me your name."

"And why would I do that?"

"I told you mine."

"Which I didn't ask for."

"Oh, you're that kinda girl?"

"What?"

"The girl who acts like she's too good for everyone."

"Not everyone. Just you."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"Tell me your name."

"Why?"

"Because, when I meet a beautiful girl, I wanna put a name to the pretty face."

He was annoying as shit, but he was good with his words. And so fucking hot.

"How many girls have you said that to tonight?"

"Just one."

"Should I be flattered?"

"Oh, I'm sure you're flattered all the time."

He leaned one arm against the doorframe, trapping you in between him and the door. His towering figure was scaring you and turning you on at the same time. He took the towel from your hand and set it on the sink.

"y/n." You softy spoke.

You looked down, trying to hide your grin. He placed his hand under your chin and lifted your head to meet his gaze. You melted at his touch.

"See? Was that so hard?"

"If you kiss me, I swear to god I'll kick you in the balls."

"Sure you will." He smirked, slowly leaning in to press his lips to yours.

❤︎

A few weeks later, Tashi came into you room and sat on your bed. Her grin was a mile wide as she waited for you to say something.

"Can I help you?"

"You know that guy I've been seeing?"

"The blonde?"

"Mhm."

"What about him?"

"We're going out Friday night, and he suggested a double date."

"Oh, god."

"He asked if I had a friend for his friend."

"No."

"Please?" Tashi begged you.

"No! I don't even know the guy!"

"It's just mini golf. You'll barely have to talk to him."

You sighed and thought about it for a second. How bad could it be? "Fine. But you're buying me lunch for a week."

"Deal."

Whatever devil's inside you, don't let him out tonight

You pulled up to the mini golf place and waited outside for your dates.

"You excited?" She asked you.

"Oh, yeah. I can't wait."

She rolled her eyes and smiled when she saw the guys.

"That's them!" She led you over to the two men. The blonde who you saw her with at the party, and a familiar brunette. "Art, this is y/n."

"Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too."

"This is my friend, Patrick."

"We've met." You both said in unison.

"See?" She smiled. "And you were worried about not knowing the guy."

"So, should we head over there?" Art asked.

"Yeah." Patrick smirked. "Let's head over there."

You all got the clubs and balls before heading to the course. Art and Tashi were caught up with each other, leaving you and Patrick alone. Hit pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it before taking a puff.

"You can't smoke in here."

"In where? We're outside."

"We're on a golf course."

"It's mini golf."

"You're gonna get in trouble."

"Who's gonna say something? The plastic hippopotamus over there?"

"Whatever."

You rolled your eyes and got ready to hit the ball.

"You're doing it wrong." He smirked.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up." You swung the club and hit the ball into the small pond across the course. "Shit."

"Nice job. You should go pro." He chucked.

"Fuck you."

"What'd I do to you?"

"What?"

"I thought we were getting along really well at the party. But two weeks later, you act like I killed your fucking puppy."

You rolled your eyes at his analogy. "I was drunk that night. We weren't getting along, I was just horny."

"Yeah right. You telling me you haven't thought about me at all?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"I don't believe that."

"You're such an arrogant little shit."

"Wow. I can't believe I let you kiss me with that mouth." You raised the golf club and whacked it against his shin. "Ah! Motherfucker!" He groaned.

After completing the course and getting dinner, Art and Tashi went in her car back to campus, while you were stuck with Patrick.

"We'll meet you there!" She smiled as she drove away.

You sighed and got into the passenger seat. Patrick hit the gas and drove down the road.

"Why didn't you call me?" He asked.

"I didn't have your number, dumbass."

"If you did, would you have called."

"Probably not."

He sighed and pulled into an empty lot before putting the car in park. He took his seatbelt off and turned to you. "Can we start over?"

"What're you doing?"

"We're probably gonna be spening a lot of time together, and I don't wanna feel like you hate me."

"I don't hate you, I just don't like you."

"Why not?"

"You're annoying, presumtuous, skeezy, and you think everyone wants to fuck you, which they don't."

"You did."

"I was drunk."

"You're not drunk now."

"Well, I don't wanna fuck you now."

"Yes, you do." He leaned over the center console and kissed you softly. You had every oppritunity to push him away. But you didn't. Instead, you encouraged it.

All I'm asking, baby Please, please, please don't prove 'em right Please, please, please don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

It had been a month since that night in the parking lot. Tashi and Art were happy together, and you and Patrick were...keeping each other company. The two of you had been getting pretty close, literally and figuratively. After actually getting to know him, you started to really like him.

"Are you and Patrick dating?" Tashi asked as you walked in from the gym.

"Uh..." You thought for a second. It was never something that you had actually discussed. "I don't know."

"You don't know."

"No."

"No, you don't know? Or, no, you're not dating?"

"We're not dating." I think.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah." She slipped her shoes on. "It was fine for a few double dates, but not for anything more. He just isn't your vibe."

"So, you think we'd be a bad couple?"

"Not necessarily. I just think you'd regret it. He'll probably just end up embarrassing you."

"Embarrass me how?"

"Let's just say, if I was gonna go pro and try to go to the olympics, Patrick Zweig is not the guy I'd want my name being attached to."

She gave you a smile before heading out the door. You sat on your bed and processed what she had just told you. Would Patrick really embarrass you?

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh Please, please, please Over the past few weeks, you had been thinking about what you really wanted. Patrick was rough around the edges, sure. But he was sweet, funny, and a really good lay. Plus, you really, really liked him. Then you thought about what Tashi said. Was Patrick Zweig really the guy you wanted to be seen with while trying to be taken seriously?

"Did you hear what I said?" He asked, putting the car in park.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I zoned out."

"I said we should do dinner after this."

"Yeah, sure. Where?"

"That new Italian place down the street?"

"That's pretty fancy for Patrick Zweig." You chuckled. "What's the special occasion?"

"y/n, I wanna take things seriously with you."

"Wow. I never expected that from you."

"Why not?"

"You just don't seem like the kind of guy to want something serious."

"I wasn't. But I am now."

"So, are we dating now?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"You. What do you want?"

That was the question you had been asking yourself. What did you want?

"I..." You hesitated. "I want you, Patrick."

He smirked and grabbed your hand before softly kissing it.

"I want you too."

"But you have to promise me something."

"Yeah. Anything."

"Please, please, please, don't embarrass me."

"Embarrass you?"

"I know what kinda guy you are. Or at least the kinda guy you used to be. I'm getting a lot of attention and the last thing I need is some news story saying that my boyfriend is a sleazy douchebag."

"Sleazy and a douchebag? Wow." He chucked.

"I'm serious. I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker."

"Hey, I'm not like that anymore. I really think you could make an honest man outta me."

"Woah. Let's slow down." You giggled. "I like you just as my boyfriend for right now."

"I like that too."

Well, I have a fun idea, babe Maybe just stay inside I know you're craving some fresh air But the ceiling fan is so nice (It's so nice, right) And we could live so happily If no one knows that you're with me I'm just kidding, but really (Kinda), really, really You were packing up your gym bag when your coach came up behind you.

"y/n! Great job today!"

"Thanks!"

"Listen, you've been getting a lot more publicity since your meet last week."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"It's a great thing. But, you need to be careful. With the U.S. Classic coming up, you're being watched more than ever now. I would hate for you to get some bad press and ruin your career so soon."

"Yeah. I totally agree."

"Just steer clear of doing anything or hanging out with anyone negative. Publicly, at least."

She gave you a smile before walking out of the gym. You sat on the bench and held your head in your hands. How was this gonna work?

❤︎

You laid with your head on Patrick's chest as he stroked your hair. His other hand was on your bare hip while his thumb rubbed slow circles on your skin.

"What time is Tashi coming back?"

"Five. We've got a few hours."

"You wanna grab lunch?"

"Yeah." You slowly sat up. "I'll run down to the cafeteria."

"Or, we could go out to lunch."

"Maybe another time. My coach said I should steer clear of negative publicity right now."

"I thought I was doing a pretty good job of not embarrassing you." He said, clearly irritated.

"I just don't wanna give anyone a reason to say something."

"Yeah." He nodded. You could tell he was slightly hurt despite his soft smile. "Whatever you want."

You gave him a sympathetic kiss on the cheek before sitting up to grab your clothes.

"I'll bring up some food."

Please, please, please don't prove 'em right Please, please, please don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Since Tashi started dating him, you and Art actually became pretty good friends. The two of you were eating dinner in the cafeteria while your partners were each finishing up some work.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked, picking up some broccoli with his fork.

"Yeah. Shoot."

"What do you see in Patrick?"

"Uh, well.." You leaned back in your chair and thought for a moment. "He's handsome, funny, really sweet-"

"Patrick Zweig is not sweet. He's an asshole."

"Yeah, but he's a sweet asshole." You chuckled. "Why're you asking anyway?"

"Just wondering."

"Art."

"What?"

"Why're you asking about Patrick?"

"Nothing. I was just curious why you'd choose someone like him."

"Someone like him?"

"y/n, you're kind, smart, motivated, I could go on and on. Patrick is crude, uncommitted, and unserious. I love the guy, but he's a hot mess."

"He's my mess, Art."

"You need someone more put together. Someone more like you."

"Right. More like me."

"I'm serious. He'd only embarrass you."

You huffed and leaned back in your chair. He was right. You hated to admit it, but he was right. Patrick was a mess. But did you like him enough to stay with him?

Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another (Heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another) I beg you don't embarrass me, motherfucker, oh Please, please, please The past three and a half months had felt like a fever dream. Between getting together with Patrick, the end of the semester, and the U.S. Classic, you felt like you were on top of the world. Patrick had flown out to Michigan with you to support you. Once the meet was over, and you had won gold, he insisted on taking you out to dinner.

"You really didn't have to." You told him as the two of you stood outside the restaurant. "I would've been fine sitting in the hotel room eating room service."

"I know you would've. But you deserve a five star meal."

"And who's paying?"

"My dad."

"What?"

"I told him I needed money for next year's books."

You laughed and kissed him softly. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

"Can you not?"

"I'll blow it away from you."

"Smoking is a bad habit that I don't want you being caught doing." You took it from in between his lips and stomped on it.

"What the fuck?"

"You already got in trouble for racket abuse, twice might I add. All these little things are gonna add up."

"What, are you grading me on being an upstanding citizen?"

"Yes, actually. You should be lucky there's no cameras here like there was at the hotel."

"You care way too much about publicity. As long as you're good at your sport, who gives a shit what you do in your personal life?"

"You don't get it. When you do something unsavory, it's always, 'Wow. Patrick Zweig is a mess. What's wrong with y/n l/n? Why did she choose him?' It affects me too."

"Hey." He grabbed your hands. "Relax. Let's just go inside and we'll talk about this later."

"Excuse me?" A young girl came up to you. "Sorry to bother you. I saw your meet earlier, and I just wanted to say that you were amazing."

"Thank you." You gave her a smile.

"Could I get your autograph?" She handed you a pen and paper.

"Sure." You signed the paper and waved as she walked away. "I'm going back to the hotel."

"What about dinner? I made reservations."

"You stay. I'll catch up with you later."

If you wanna go and be stupid, don't Do it in front of me

The sound of squeaking bars and feet hitting the mats filled your ears. You were standing in front of the mat, taking deep breaths before you went into a roundoff on the springboard. As you were going into a back handspring, you slipped and fell on the mat. Again.

"What's going on, y/n?" Your coached asked. "You've been out of it all week."

"I'm just distracted. I'm sorry."

"You still thinking about that boy?"

"He's my boyfriend."

"He's a distraction. If you wanna get to the olympics next year, you can't afford any distractions."

"I know. I just-"

"I don't tell you what to do when you're off the mats, but don't let a guy ruin your chance at success. At happiness."

You sighed and got up to take a sip of your water.

❤︎

'Knock, knock.'

"Hey." Art said as he opened the door. "Pat's not here."

"Yes, he is. I can hear his music."

He sighed before letting you in. "I'm gonna give you guys some space." He gave you an awkward smile before leaving the room.

"Hey." You smiled.

"Hey."

"Can we talk?"

"If you're gonna give me another lecture about not embarrassing you, you can save it."

You sat on the foot of the bed.

"Pat-" You huffed. "I am so sorry."

"You are?"

"I was wrong. I should never have asked you to not be yourself. I spent so much time caring about what other people thought of me, and I didn't even think about the most important opinion. Yours."

"It's okay."

"My coach said I shouldn't let you get in the way of my happiness, but I'm happiest when I'm with you. Even when I'm out on the mat, I miss you." You grabbed his hands. "You make me happy, Patrick."

"You make me so fucking happy." He grinned. "I never thought a girl like you would give me a chance. I know I can be a little rough sometimes."

"I love you exactly the way you are." You moved closer to him and placed your hand on his cheek. "And you shouldn't change for anyone. Including me."

"You love me?"

"I..." You thought for a second. "I do. I love you, Patrick."

He smirked before leaning in to press your lips together.

"I love you too."

Please, please, please (Please) Please, please, please (Please) Please, please, please (Please) Please, please, please (Please, please)

@swetearss

#please please please #sabrina carpenter #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #josh o'connor

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allthingsfangirl101 · 5 months ago

Text

Enemies to Lovers – Joe Keery

I have lived next to Joe Keery for two years and those two years have been hell. He has parties every weekend, trashes the hallway, blasts music, slams doors, smokes, makes passive-aggressive comments when I run into him, and is just a horrible neighbor.

"Up early and out early. Like always, Ms. Y/L/N," Joe said as soon as I left my apartment. I looked up and saw him unlocking his door.

"Up late and home late. Like always, Mr. Keery," I sighed as I locked the door. I turned around, my heart sinking into my stomach when I saw the bruise on his cheek and the bandage wrapped around his wrist.

"Are you alright?" I asked. My question made him freeze. He glanced at me before down at his wrist.

"Oh," he said slowly. He looked up at me and smiled softly, "I'm fine. Just a stupid accident on set that I made worse."

"How'd you make it worse?"

"I got drunk," he laughed. I smiled but quickly stopped.

"You should get some sleep," I said, clearing my throat.

"And you should get to work," he said, matching my tone.

I walked toward the elevator as Joe walked into his apartment. As I headed to work, I went back over my and Joe's strange interaction that morning.

I went through my day, forcing myself to forget about my neighbor. After a long shift, I happily left for the day. I got home, my entire body aching. As I unlocked the door, Joe left his apartment.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he teased. I nodded but didn't say anything. "You okay?" He asked as I opened my door.

"Just tired," I shrugged.

"From shopping all day?" He smirked. I glared at him before walking into my apartment and slamming the door behind me.

Well, never mind. It looks like that moment of weakness Joe had this morning was just that. A moment.

* * * * *

I went about my normal week and it wasn't until the weekend that I noticed I hadn't seen Joe since the other day. I walked into my apartment Friday night with a fresh bottle of wine and some takeout.

The takeout was finished and I was working on the bottle of wine when there was a crash outside.

"Actor Boy is home," I mumbled. I sighed when there was another cash. "And drunk."

I started to stand up but giggled when I drunkenly fell back onto the couch.

"I guess I am too," I laughed. I jumped when there was a loud knock on my door. I sighed and slowly stood up. Once I had my bearings, I walked to the front door. I reached for the handle but froze when I heard his voice.

"Y/N! Open the damn door!"

I took a step back, my hands instantly starting to shake. Everything froze as he continued to pound on my door. I held my breath, silently praying for him to leave.

"Hey!"

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard Joe. I looked at my watch and mumbled under my breath, "What are you doing home? Please go back to work."

"Go away," my ex-boyfriend Scott laughed.

"Please go, Joe," I whispered. "I'm begging you."

"No," Joe said flatly. "What are you doing here? And why are you knocking on that door like an ass?"

"This doesn't concern you," Scott spat at him.

"Yeah, it does," Joe responded, his anger slowly rising.

"Oh, really?" Scott laughed. "Are you dating my leftovers?"

"You're the dumbass who lost a five-star meal."

I didn't know if I should be flattered or offended. Joe was standing up for me, but it kind of felt like an insult.

"I threw it out when it lost its flavor," Scott said through bared teeth.

That was definitely an insult.

"Wait, what?" Joe asked with the sole purpose of pissing Scott off. "I'm sorry, man. You kinda lost me. Are you saying you dumped Y/N?"

My heart flipped when Joe started laughing. "Yes," Scott seethed. "I dumped her."

"You see," Joe sighed, "I just can't believe that. I don't believe that you would dump a girl as gorgeous as Y/N. She would definitely dump you when she realized you were a piece of drunk shit that probably never got her to finish. . ."

I swung the door open, knowing that what Joe was saying was only going to end one way. And I was right. Scott had his fist clenched and his arm raised, but he stopped himself when he heard my door open.

"There it is," he said, breathing heavily as he turned around. I glanced behind him at Joe. He took a step closer, carefully watching me.

"What do you want, Scott?"

"I wanted to allow you to beg for me back," he slurred. Joe was watching us closely with his fists clenched.

"I don't want you back."

I gasped and took a step back when Scott's drunk glare darkened. "You don't want me back," he seethed. "Wow. You ungrateful little. . ."

He raised his hand again but he didn't stop himself. My eyes widened when I realized it was Joe who stopped Scott by grabbing his elbow.

"I know you weren't about to hit a woman," he threatened. "You sure as hell weren't going to hit that woman."

"I told you, Hollywood, this doesn't concern you." Scott tore his elbow out of Joe's hand and took a step closer to me. Joe didn't let him get any closer. My heart jumped into my throat when Joe instantly put himself between me and Scott.

"It concerns me when you're threatening a woman," Joe said, the tone of his voice changing again. "It definitely concerns me when the woman you're threatening is my neighbor."

"Neighbor," Scott laughed. "I'm sure Hollywood's Party Boy just loooves living next to Nerdy Stay-at-Home Bookworm. I bet she complains about your partying. How many?"

"How many what?" Joe asked through clenched teeth.

"How many times has she called the cops on you, Keery?" Scott smirked. "How many times has she demanded you turn down the music or stop leaving empty kegs in the hallway or having sex in the elevator?"

"The only woman I've hooked up with in the elevator is Y/N," Joe said making my stomach flip.

We have never done anything close to hooking up in the elevator or anywhere else in the building. He clearly said that for one reason and one reason only; to get under Scott's skin. And it worked.

"Y/N hates hooking up anywhere other than the bedroom," Scott said, his voice dropping.

"Maybe all she needed was the right guy to take her in the elevator," Joe smirked.

I gasped when Scott's glare darkened. I took a step closer to Joe, gently putting my hands on his shoulder blades. "Joe," I whispered, "Please don't push him."

"Alright," Joe sighed. "You're making my girl nervous so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

I was too scared of Scott's murderous glare to react to Joe calling me his girl.

"Leave?" Scott laughed. "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to her."

"Well, that's a problem."

"And why is that, Lover-boy?" Scott asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because I'm not letting you talk to her."

For once, Joe's tone made me nervous. I looked around and saw the glare on his face. As he stared down my ex, he reached behind himself and grabbed my hand.

"I'm only going to tell you one more time," he threatened. "Leave our place or I swear, you'll never be able to use that hand to pleasure yourself again."

"Our place?"

I caught on to that too.

"You two live together?!"

I knew it was going to happen before Scott even made a move. I guess Joe knew that too because he instantly reacted. He pushed me further behind him and hit Scott's jaw before he could do anything.

I stood there, frozen against my front door, as Scott fell to the floor.

"Guess I'm going to have to give you one last warning," Joe said, his voice dark. "Leave Y/N alone or you'll only be known as the loser ex who got his ass kicked by her current boyfriend."

Without looking at me, Joe grabbed my hand and pulled us into my apartment. He let go of my hand and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as he angrily paced back and forth across my living room.

"Thank you," I whispered with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. My voice made him look up at me.

"Of course," he said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," I said as I tightened my arms and focused on my feet. I held my breath when Joe's shoes came into view.

"Y/N," he said under his breath. "Look at me. Please?"

I took a shaky breath and struggled to hide my tears as I looked up at him. His eyes softened when he saw the expression on my face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked. Before I could lie and tell him I was fine, he said, "It's okay if you're not. Talk to me, Y/N."

"It's nothing," I started to say.

"Come on, Y/N," Joe sighed. "At least tell me who that guy was."

Joe's face dropped when he figured it out for himself. He took a step closer to me and lowered his voice. "I was right," he whispered. "That guy is your ex."

I bit my lip as the tears started to spill even though I tried to stop them. Joe reached up and gently caught one.

"He used to hurt you."

He didn't say that like it was a question. Then again, from everything that just happened, it wasn't that hard to figure out.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said under his breath, "he will never hurt you again. Alright? I promise."

"You can't promise that," I sighed. He reached over and grabbed my hands, making me look at him.

"The next time you see him, even if it's across the street, you call me."

"But. . ."

"Promise me," he cut me off. "The next time you see him, you call me."

"I promise."

We stared at each other, the tension thick. For some reason, I spoke up.

"You want a beer?"

"I could go for a beer," Joe chuckled.

* * * * *

Joe and I ended up drinking and watching a movie. As the credits rolled and my mind incredibly hazy from the drinks, I looked over and my stomach did some weird flip. I gasped when Joe looked over at me.

"You good?" He asked.

"You can go home now," I said, my heart sinking at those words. I looked at him to see him with an odd look on his face.

"Is that what you want?" Joe asked.

"I figured you'd want to go home," I shrugged. "It's been a weird and long night. You've already done enough. . ."

"I'm not going anywhere if you feel safer with me here," he said, gently cutting me off. His eyes widened like he just realized what he said. He opened his mouth to take back what he said, but I spoke up.

"I do." I paused before adding, "Are you okay with staying?"

"I'll stay for as long as you want me."

Joe's eyes glanced down at my lips. When he looked back up at my eyes, he slowly leaned in. I had my chance to stop him, but I didn't. Soon, his lips were pressed against mine.

Part 2

#joe keery #joe keery imagines #joe keery x reader #joe keery fanfic #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington

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sunafc · 9 months ago

Text

Well, now you're gonna die too.

i got inspired by "funeral gray" by waterparks if y'all want to listen to that, it's a great song

cw: fem reader, smoking, alcohol consumption, suggestive but no smut, happy ending, college au

It's 11p.m. when Suna first sees you. It's a saturday night, at a party. The music is loud and it's really crowded. When you walk through the door, suddenly everything is silent and, for a moment, there's no one between you and him. Suna knows that's only happening in his head, but somehow, it feels real. And then, a moment later, all the noise and the people appear once again. Maybe he's a little tipsy.

You are on the terrace, you feel like smoking. Too bad your lighter decide to stop working right that moment. It's 3a.m. when you first see Suna. He's with some friends. You need a lighter.

"Does any of you guys happen to have a ligther?" you intrude their conversation. One of them hands you one, you lit up your cigarette and thank them. You go back to your spot, resting your back to the railing.

"That shit is gonna kill you." Suna is now beside you.

"Mhm," you take a hit and blow it in his face, "Well, now you're gonna die too."

Suna can't breathe for a second. His mind blames the smoke, his heart blames you. He clears his throat. You take another hit. Your mouth still open from blowing out the smoke. Suna takes your chin with a hand and pulls you closer to his. He can feel your breath on his lips. He can smell your perfume and your hair graze his skin. His head is spinning. His mind blames the alcohol, his heart blames you. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe it's you who's intoxicating. Your lips are on the verge of touching. Your free hand goes to his nape, your fingers through his hair. Your other hand keeps the cigarette far from him, careful not to burn him. You close the gap. He tastes like alcohol and fruit jelly. You taste of smoke. His grip on your jaw tightens. He nips at your bottom lip, maybe a little too hard. As that makes you gasp, he slips his tongue into your mouth and a hand makes its way under your sweater. He pulls your whole body closer by your waist. He's kissing you hungrily. The hand that was holding your jaw is now in your hair, pulling it a little, making you moan into the kiss. You push his chest a little to get him off of you, needing a break. You clear your throat. He takes all your figure in, your hair is a mess, your lips are swollen, your lipstick is all smudged and yet, he thinks you look so fucking hot. He passes his fingers through your hair trying to fix the mess he made. You take a look at your cigarette, it's now over.

"You owe me a cigarette." you say and, before he can say anything, you go back inside.

It's 1:30p.m. when Suna wakes up on the twins' couch. His head feels like it's going to explode, his mind is replaying what happened with you. He convinces himself it was the alcohol. There's no way he was feeling all that over someone he just met, he tells himself. However, when Osamu wakes up, Suna is quick to ask if he knows who you are.

"The girl with the grey sweater?" Osamu asks.

"The girl that looked all messy after a few minutes with ya?" Atsumu appears in the kitchen with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Yeah," Suna tries his best not to sound like he cares, "I didn't catch her name."

Osamu pours himself a glass of water, "I think that was Y/n, isn't she in class with Hitoshi?"

"What is it Suna, are ya in love?" Atsumu teases him.

Suna shrugs, "She's just hot."

You're just hot, but it's on monday at 12p.m. when he's waiting for your class to end so that he can see you, so that he can ask you to have lunch break together. And you say yes. You're just hot, but when he hands you his phone so that you can put your number in it and your fingers brush against his, his heart skips a beat. You're just hot, but no one misses the smile on his face as he receives your texts.

It's a week later, friday at 4p.m. when he texts you.

Suna: are you going to the party tonight?

Y/n: no i have a date

You're just hot, so why is he angry and leaves you on read? You're just hot, so why does he care?

It's 1a.m. when Suna sees you sitting on the porch at the party. You're smoking. He sits next to you. "I thought you had a date."

"Yeah," you take a hit, "He was boring, I left."

Suna wonders why you didn't text him to let him know you were there. But then again, he was the one to leave you on read.

"I bet you would've had more fun with me." he says.

"Mhm, yeah, I bet," you take another hit, "Why don't you show me how?"

Suna doesn't say anything to that. He puts a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you closer. With his free hand he steals the cigarette from your fingers. He takes a hit. You can't take your eyes off of his lips, you're hypnotized. He leans in and your lips part on their own. He blows it in your mouth as he closes the gap between you two. You can see the lust in his eyes and you can feel it in the way he's kissing you greedily. It's all so messy and you're so taken aback, you let him do whatever he wants as you just sit there. When he lets you go, the little smoke that remains escapes from you lips. He gives you back your cigarette.

"I thought you said this shit was gonna kill you." you say.

"It's true." he says.

"I thought you didn't smoke."

"I just wanted to talk to you."

It's 4a.m. when you go home with him. You enter his bedroom and you can't take your hands off of each other. You're taking off each other clothes as you exchange messy kisses.

It's 12p.m. when Suna wakes up with you in his bed, with you in his arms. You're still half asleep, you scoot over to be closer to him.

"Y/n, are you awake?" he asks.

"Rin let me sleep a little more." you murmur.

His eyes widen, what did you call him? He sits up and you whine under your breath.

"Say that again." he says.

"Let me sleep." you repeat.

He holds your shoulders and turns you around so you can face him, "No, what did you call me?"

Your eyes are still closed as you say, "Rin."

He kisses you, "Again, please."

"Rin."

He kisses you again.

"Rin."

He gives you another kiss. And another. And another.

"Rin." you say again.

"You're so fucking cute."

It's 12.30p.m. when Suna decides he wants to wake up to this everyday of his life.

#haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #suna imagines #suna rintaro x reader

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pip-n-chips · 1 year ago

Note

The Harper pregnancy asks got my brain juices flowing so please indulge me for a hot minute.

What if PC got married down the road and it turns out that her spouse is infertile. Spouse seems blissfully unaware and PC thinks it's on her end it out so she approaches Harper for help. Who initially sees this as an opportunity to just make some more cash via pictures or videos (the way he does during his Friday visits in game) and test some new fertility drugs he's cooked up. While she's happily taking them, Harper is looking through his list of regulars to find matches who look closer to PC's spouse. Can't have the kid looking TOO different, right? And he prides himself on providing excellent service.

He starts inviting her over twice a week under the guise of treating her infertility while in reality, he's hypnotizing her and letting her get fucked by his regulars. Really, just a way to make some quick cash. He's not TOO emotionally involved in this.

But our good doctor pretty much starts salivating when PC does end up pregnant and shows up for regular check ups. He cannot stop touching her belly, maybe shows her how to knead her breasts to help with lactation later on, takes so many measurements and asks invasive questions, is just a general creep who is quickly becoming obsessed with having PC carry his kid. He's so mad at his past self, he should have been the one to knock her up, everything else be damned. He can hypnotize her still, sure, and he does so (rubbing his dick all over the curve of her belly. Making her use her growing breasts. Having her bounce on his dick later on and Harper rubs his hands all over her, he cannot get enough) but it's just not the same.

So when PC shows up again a year or two after having the first kid, looking down and miserable because her and her spouse have been trying again but it seems the treatment needs to be reapplied, Harper jumps on the opportunity. He becomes obsessed the second PC says 'We'd like to have another baby'. He acts all sympathetic and soothing and reassures her that he will look into it again, to please come back in a week. Because he wants to prepare for this properly. Meanwhile, his mind switched to the fast lane and his thoughts are racing. No way he's contacting his regulars again. This time, it'll be his child. He can potentially explain away the looks by going 'PC is an orphan, maybe the kid got their looks from PC's parents' and he is curious to see how his child's pregnancy data/stats would compare to the other one but that's when it hits him. He can give PC stronger meds. Give her additional shots. She could have twins. Maybe triplets.

Harper's hand is down his pants before he can stop himself.

He'll fuck her so well. Fill up her aching, empty womb, again and again and again. Maybe hypnotize her and make her stay after hours so he can truly indulge. Take a video of her sitting on an examination table, legs spread and gaze glassy. Harper instructing her to say things like 'I'm going to be impregnated by Doctor Harper today. I couldn't be happier' or 'Doctor, please, come inside of me.' She'd look so pretty and big and she'd have to visit him so often to make sure the pregnancy is progressing as intended. He might get to indulge himself every day. Take so many pictures. Let his hands roam, chart every inch of skin and jot down the results. Get his mouth on her breasts. He really could induce early lactation this time around, drink her creamy milk, get samples for his research.

Harper cannot fucking wait.

The next appointment PC shows up for, Harper's waiting for her with a smile and some very good news. (And maybe, just maybe, he is already planning her third pregnancy.)

holy shit, anon

Harper isn't the only one salivating anymore cuz hot damn

#i love hearing y'all's thoughts and writing and stuff!! its like youre knocking on my door and giving me free food #and this food is VERY VERY tasty #degrees of lewdity #harper the doctor #ask #anon #others writing #cw pregnancy #thirsty #hnnnnnnnnnghhhhhhhhh /positive

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your-divine-ribs · 8 months ago

Text

Good Touch

Words: 4.6k

A very stressed out Van comes into your salon for a massage so you help him to relax in the best possible way… I wrote this just after the Cardiff 2022 gig got cancelled 😭 // Just pure self-indulgent smut because I fancy this man so bad I have no other excuse lol sorry 😂

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I'm so glad we're nearly done for the day, I can't wait to get home. Thank god I've not got any more clients."

Your colleague and salon receptionist Naomi looks up as you push through the door after heading back from a much needed coffee break. A small frown creases her forehead.

"Actually Y/N, you do have another client. He was a late booker from this morning. Haven't you seen it in the diary?"

"No..." Your heart sinks as she slides the appointment book towards you across the counter, squinting at Naomi's practically indecipherable scrawl. "Mr... what? Mr McCarr? McCaw? Don't recognise the name. He's not a regular then..."

Great, you sigh to yourself. A brand new client last thing on a Friday. These days your diary is full of satisfied repeat bookers and you've got to know all of them well during your time at the salon. It's almost like you can forget you're working at times, you just switch on the relaxing music and chat to them whilst you massage away their tension knots and usually their worries too. It's often soothing even for you, but this week has been long and exhausting and the thought of making polite conversation with a total stranger for a whole session when you're ready to go home is totally draining.

Well... let's just hope he's one of the quiet ones who just wants to lie there and zone out.

"It's actually McCann... excuse my terrible writing!" Naomi laughs. "But yeah he's new. He came in grumbling about his manager ordering him to come for a session. He's had some shit go down at work or something... I don't know. He was pretty vague, mumbling like he really didn't wanna be here."

You look quickly towards the treatment room door which is thankfully shut. "He's already here?"

"Uh-huh," Naomi nods, scrunching up her face. "He looks like shit... really stressed out... like maybe he's not slept for a month." She grins mischievously. "Shame really as I reckon he'd be proper fit normally!"

"Naomi!" You exclaim in a hushed whisper, stepping over in alarm. "For Christ's sake keep your voice down!"

Naomi just shrugs, unfazed, tapping her manicured fingernails on the counter. "He won't hear, the door's shut. Chill out! Anyway, enjoy... he's booked in for a full body massage!"

Her eyebrows shoot up suggestively at the final few words, but you don't partake in her smutty behaviour. You've always prided yourself on your professionalism. You'll just go in and do your job... work your magic... in forty-five minutes you'll have another satisfied customer.

You take a deep breath and open the door...

You should have realised. You should have put two and two together, but why would you? Okay... McCann isn't exactly a common name, but the thought of having a real-life, living, breathing, famous rockstar casually dropping into your salon is the last thing you'd expect on a Friday afternoon.

But sure enough there he is, larger than life and a hundred times more handsome than his videos on YouTube, perched on the edge of the treatment bed wearing nothing but a pair of tight-fitting black boxers. Very tight-fitting actually, you note, quickly wrenching your eyes upwards to meet his sparkling blue gaze and his awkward looking slightly crooked smile.

"Alright love?" He greets you in that familiar tone that you've grown to love by watching every interview of his that you've scoured the internet for.

You're flustered even though you tell yourself that you shouldn't be. In your line of work you deal with clients in various states of undress all day, every day. It's just that they're not normally Van McCann, singer of your favourite band. The very same band who've just brutally broken your heart and put a serious dint in your finances by pulling out of a stadium gig you'd been set to attend only weeks away. You'd been devastated and frustrated, not to mention fuming about the band's lack of communication with their loyal and dedicated fanbase, but all of a sudden those feelings of resentment take a backseat to your utter shock at having this most elusive of your idols sitting there before you, eyes glowing with a subtle kind of amusement at your stunned expression.

"Oh... errr sorry... wasn't I supposed to get my kit off yet?"

"Yes... yes... of course!" You blurt, checking yourself when you realise you sound overly eager, making out you're clearing your throat so you can take a moment to compose yourself, forcing your inner fangirl back into hiding. "I mean, sure. I can't massage you fully dressed now, can I?"

Van nods but his smile slips as you step forward to retrieve a towel off the bale on the wall, and now you're a little closer you can see what Naomi was talking about. The skin under his eyes looks dark-tinged and puffy, his skin sallow under the lighting. He sighs under his breath as he gets to his feet. "Might as well get this over and done with then."

His comment makes you bristle slightly but you recall Naomi's earlier comment and you take the chance to explore his lack of enthusiasm. "Oh, my colleague mentioned something about your manager making you come? You don't sound too thrilled about it. Most people love coming for a treatment. It's therapeutic you know."

"Yeah well... I don't need therapy," he says quickly, his voice tight and defensive. You've obviously hit a nerve. You hadn't realised that you'd stepped back, recoiling, but Van notices. He looks immediately embarrassed, offering an apologetic smile, pushing a hand through his hair as he talks.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to snap... it's just... errr... it's just I've really been going through it at the moment. Things have been... difficult... really difficult." His eyes dart around the room before they meet yours again. "You could say pretty much everything I touch is falling apart these days."

You're full of intrigue, literally bursting with curiosity to find out the reason behind the band's demise, but he's made no reference to show that he knows that you're aware of who he is. In fact you think he probably suspects you don't and he's relieved about that. Despite your desperation to find out the band's fate you really can't probe him. You don't want to scare him off, but you also don't want to treat an unwilling client. It just doesn't feel right.

"Look... I'm really sorry to hear that, but I probably shouldn't treat you if you don't want to be here..."

Van cuts you off, looking contrite. "It's not that I don't want to be here, really. Please don't take offence. It's just that I don't know how a bloody massage is supposed to miraculously cure all of my problems, that's all."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes, and you smile back, holding out the towel to him which he accepts.

"I'm sure it won't... but it will relax you, I can promise you that. You can just lie back and close your eyes and check out of real life for a little while. C'mon, why don't you just try it? You might like it. Let me take care of you for a bit."

Oh... you hadn't meant it to come out quite like that, so intimate-sounding. You feel your cheeks begin to warm as his grin widens.

"Well, if ya put it like that how can I resist? I'm sure I'll be in very capable hands! Now... how do you want me... on the bed?"

His last line's said innocently enough but there's an underlying cheekiness simmering just below that gorgeous smile that makes your belly flip. You bite back the smirk that's threatening to surface along with a very inappropriate smutty comment, trying to restore the composed and professional demeanour that you usually display with your clients.

"Yeah, just lie down right here." You look down quickly to hide your flushed cheeks, patting the soft sheet draped over the bed. "If you start off lying on your front then I can do your back, and then you can turn over." You pause, mentally bracing yourself before you say the next line, but ending up blurting it out in a tumble of rushed words. "You can... umm... take everything off if you like... you don't have to but some clients prefer it that way. It's completely up to you though. You can use the towel to cover yourself if you do."

Fuck... your cheeks are on fire now, your pulse starting to race. The room suddenly feels like a furnace as you watch Van quickly hook his fingers under the elastic waistband of his boxers without hesitation, starting to inch them down his slim hips.

"Oh... I'll step out and give you some privacy!" You exclaim, hurriedly whirling around to avert your eyes at the realisation that he means to completely strip off right there and then in front of you.

"Not a problem," comes his relaxed voice from behind you. "I'm not shy."

A giggle of pure embarrassment bubbles up inside and you bite down on your lip to stem it, trying to control your pounding heart. You need to pull yourself together and fast. In a moment you've got to turn around and deliver a relaxing and professional massage but all you can think of is getting your hands on his naked body for all the improper reasons.

"Just let me know when you're ready!" You say brightly, stepping forward to peruse the massage oils, deciding on a blend of patchouli and sandalwood. You tap the small speaker on the shelf and a wave of soft, soothing meditative music fills the small room. Scented candles are already lit to give the room a calming ambience.

"Ready... I'm all yours!" You hear him call back.

Yes... yes you are, you smile to yourself as you move over to dim the lights before finally turning around.

He's laid out on the bed on his front as instructed and for the first time you can get a good look at him uninhibited. His wiry body is lean but taut, his skin pale save for the slight flush where he's obviously caught the sun on the tops of his arms and around his neck. The tiny towel that you gave him is draped temptingly over his pert little ass and you curse yourself for not giving him an even smaller one.

"How are you feeling? Are you comfortable enough?" You ask, tipping some of the oil into the palm of your hand and warming it between your fingers, coating them in the fragrant liquid.

"Uh-huh I'm good... yeah I'm all good," he replies, shifting slightly where he lays and bringing his arms up to fold across the end of the table. He lays his head sideways against his crossed arms. You have a clear view of his face from here and you can see that his eyes are shut. "I've never had a massage before... I don't really know what to expect."

"Just relax," you tell him. "That's all you need to do. Just leave the rest to me."

You step forward until you're inches away from the table, looking down on him. You can hardly believe that this man who's dwelled in your fantasies up until this moment is lying here in front of you, naked as the day he was born, completely at your mercy. Tingles of excitement are sparking through you and again you have to take a moment to compose yourself, surreptitiously shaking out the tension from your fingers which are trembling slightly.

You start by placing your palms on either side of his spine just below his neck, trailing your hands down to his lower back, then up again, this time moving in circles, firmly smoothing his flesh as you go. He lets out a small sigh and you feel him sink down further into the bed.

"That feels nice already," he murmurs. "Think maybe I am gonna enjoy this after all."

Not as much as I'm going to enjoy it, you muse to yourself, smiling as your fingers nudge the towel aside to smooth over the top of the contours of his ass, thumbs pressing into the small of his back.

"I'm only just getting started," you say. "I can feel a lot of tension in your muscles, so I'm going to have to be thorough."

His only reply is a soft "mmmm" which sounds far more sensual to your ears than it probably should. Your mind wanders, imagining him flipping over and pulling you down on top of him, hitching up your dress whilst you straddle him and grind shamelessly against him.

You try to clear your mind, moving upwards again and using your fingers to caress the muscles across the tops of his shoulders, working out the knots of tension as you go. His skin is soft and smooth, more so than you would have imagined, and the way your oil-soaked hands glide across his flesh is arousing you beyond belief. His body glistens in the candlelight. Maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel your professionalism ebbing away as you bring your hands down to focus on his slender waist, not making a move to replace the towel when it slips to the side, exposing his bum.

Van doesn't seem to notice or maybe he does but he just doesn't care. He has a blissed-out expression on his face, his eyes screwed shut and his lips slightly parted, a small crease adorning his brow as he lets out a sound that's halfway between a whimper and a sigh.

"You have no idea how good that feels... really. You're some kind of goddess, I'm sure of it."

His words fan the flames that are already simmering inside of you and you can feel the ache grow between your thighs as you shift your position to move down to his legs.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you reply, laughing softly. "My clients always seem to go away happy though."

"I don't doubt it.... mmmm... god that's so good... ohhh..."

There he goes again. Christ... those little moans that he's making are not helping matters. If he's this expressive just from a basic massage how would he react if you showed him your real talents? You push the thought away, reaching for more oil before you begin on his legs, wrapping your fingers around his calves as you massage your way up, spreading your hands wide as they slide up his thighs.

"F... uck," he groans, low and drawn out and you see him push his pelvis into the bed as your fingers trail dangerously close to the sensitive area between his parted thighs. Now you're certain that you're not the only one getting turned on, but it's hardly surprising, with each stroke you're pushing the boundaries of decency, edging closer and closer to forbidden territory. His arms move from their relaxed position so he can grip the edges of the bed and you smile to yourself as you feel his body stiffen.

There are strict rules of conduct for masseuses in your salon and you're breaking every single one. If your manager could see you now you'd be facing a disciplinary at the very least, or at worst you'd be fired. That doesn't stop you though, your fingers kneading teasingly at a spot that makes him visibly shiver until you feel the muscles in his thighs clench up tight under your touch.

"Are you still feeling okay?" You ask, finally moving your hands away, wiping the excess oil on the towel before you gently drape it back over his bum.

"Yeah... yeah I'm all good," he answers, but his choked up voice would suggest otherwise. Maybe you're going too far. Your salon prides itself on offering the most soothing treatments, leaving clients feeling calm and relaxed, not wound up tight like a spring, gripping the treatment bed like their lives depend on it.

"Are you sure? I know my massages can be pretty... intense."

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Intense? That's one way to describe it! Think maybe I'm... errr... enjoying it a little too much."

You can't help the grin which stretches wide on your lips at his words which are like music to your ears, a green light to continue in your endeavours to make him feel good. You've never really considered your ability to make a person's body react to your whim a talent before, more like a gift. So what's wrong with bestowing a gift of your own on someone else every once in a while? He so obviously needs it.

"It's time to turn over now," you tell him, grasping the edge of the towel to lift it, allowing it to screen him as he moves.

"Al... already?" He stutters, uncertainty in his voice as he shifts. "I... errr... umm... okay then."

He rolls on to his side and you train your eyes on the far wall as he does to allow him his privacy, only looking back down to replace the towel when he's settled on to his back.

Oh...

All of a sudden the source of his hesitancy is abundantly clear as you see the the towel tenting slightly over his cock. You have to fight hard to suppress the self-satisfied smirk you can feel trying to surface, quickly looking away, your eyes meeting Van's in an awkward moment of understanding.

He smiles sheepishly, his cheeks tinged an adorable shade of rosy pink and you fleetingly consider acknowledging the situation you've both found yourselves in, but you decide against it, opting to just carry on instead.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn to reach for more oil then you step to the head of the bed, looking down on him. He blinks up at you, stunning pale greeny-blue eyes framed with thick, long lashes. You're certain you're not imagining the wordless exchange that you can feel taking place, a tender kind of lustfulness that his imploring expression conveys. He wants this. You know he does.

You place your hands on either side of his neck, letting them trail down to his collar bones and then outwards across his chest before drawing them back and repeating the movements over and over. You can feel his heartbeat thundering under your fingertips at each pass, his chest rising and falling deeply.

"You okay?" You check in on him and he nods, eyes swirling with intensity.

"Uh-huh..." he breathes out, then he clears his throat. "You're pretty incredible at this, you know that?"

You smile, soaking in the praise, wondering if he thinks every client of yours gets this extra special attention that he's receiving, wondering if he cares?

"It's working then, is it?" You grin.

Van laughs and you can feel it vibrate through his chest under your palms. "Put it this way, I'm not exactly thinking about my problems right now!"

"Good... that's good... that's the aim."

You step back around to the side of the bed so you can reach further, moving your hands down over his abdomen, letting your fingers slip under the edge of the towel and trail down the V of his hips. He lets out a shaky exhale and you glance up to see his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth slightly agape. He looks divine lying there, his oiled skin shimmering in the flicker of the dim candlelight, the temptation to pull away the towel so strong that you find your fingers twitching with longing. That's just a step too far though. Teasing is one thing but giving one of your clients a sneaky hand-job is another entirely. Besides, just because he's turned on it doesn't mean he's giving you consent to relieve his tensions in such a sensual way. He'd definitely have to ask... or maybe even beg...

Fuck... you wonder what that would sound like falling from those full pink lips of his, the same lips that are currently being pulled in between his teeth to stifle a groan. You coax it from him anyway as your hands move down to grip his thighs, pushing them slightly apart as you knead at the sensitive flesh. The towel rises up even further in response and now you know you've really crossed the line. Van's gripping the edges of the bed tightly, his breathing coming heavy and ragged. His hips press upwards as if to chase your touch as your fingers wrap around the top of his thigh under the towel, the backs of them just barely grazing his balls as you move away.

"I think we'd better finish there for today," you say hurriedly, watching carefully for his reaction, pleased when his eyes flick open with a look of dismay. "That's if you've... umm... had enough?"

He pauses for a moment, his brow furrowed in a hopeful kind of eagerness. "You mean there's more... if I want it?"

"Yes," you say with no absolutely hesitance, boldly meeting his needy gaze, gauging his reaction whilst you try to formulate your next words in your head. "I mean I think we both know that there's more than one way to relax somebody... a more unconventional way to relieve that obvious tension if you like."

You try not to think of Naomi innocently sitting outside at the reception desk filing her nails whilst you're in here propositioning a client in the most sordid kind of way. Despite her earlier teasing you just know that she'd be horrified by your actions. You start to fret that maybe you've made a mistake, but then Van speaks, and your worries melt away in an instant.

"I want it... I really want it... please."

In a deft motion he tugs at the towel and it falls away on to the bed, exposing him completely. As expected he's gloriously hard, his cock just as delectable as the rest of him, thick and rigid with a flushed tip, just begging for your attention. You waste no time in wrapping your fingers hungrily around his girth, swiping your thumb over the sensitive head.

"Shit," he mutters. "I can't believe this is happening."

He hoists his body upwards, propping himself on his elbows, craning his neck to watch as you begin to caress him, taking your time, sliding your oil-slicked fingers slowly and deliberately up and down his length.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, the shock and excitement of what you're doing hitting you as he lets out a throaty groan and you worry that Naomi might hear.

"No... don't stop," he gasps breathlessly. "Please don't ever stop. It's so good... mmm."

His eyes flick between yours and his cock, dark and heavy-lidded, strands of his hair fallen forward on to his face which is creased in pleasure. You don't think you've ever witnessed a sexier sight, the obvious enjoyment etched on his face, his hips pistoning upwards needily as he fucks himself into your hand.

You pick up your pace, gripping him firmly, flicking your wrist over the head at each stroke, loving the way he writhes under your touch. His jagged panted breaths mingling with his choked groans and the obscenely wet sounds of your slick hand moving over his length seem to bounce off the walls of the small room making everything seem more intense.

"Keep going," he groans pleadingly. "Please... just like that... ahh fuck."

You're torn between wanting to stretch this out and wanting to drive him to his peak, the sinful noises he's making travelling down to your own core, soaking your panties through. You move to cup his balls with your free hand, gently massaging them, satisfied when he grits his teeth and lets out a particularly primal sounding groan.

"I can't hold on... I'm gonna come... fuck, fuck... FU-CK..." he hisses, thrusting into your hand, his whole body spasming. You watch him, transfixed as his jaw falls slack and his eyes glaze over as the swells of his climax peak and he comes, hard, milky splatters of cum painting his belly and spilling out over your knuckles.

You tug him a few more times until you've milked every last drop out of his orgasm and he's shuddering under your touch, his head hanging forward, muttering incoherently under his breath.

You release your grip on him, reaching for the towel and perching on the side of the bed, waiting for his reaction as you clean off your fingers, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Holy fucking shit," he finally murmurs, raising his head, his blue eyes meeting yours, full of wonder and shock and an awe-like reverence that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I know I'm brand new to this whole massage thing but I'm guessing that's not how it usually goes down?"

He accepts the towel from your outstretched hand as you offer him an awkward smile, the enormity of what you've just done hitting you now. "I can promise you I've never done that before. I... I don't know what came over me... sorry."

"Sorry?" He echoes quickly, his eyes bulging in disbelief. "Please don't apologise! That was..." he pauses, shaking his head, searching for the right words. "That was probably one of the hottest experiences of my life! Really... I mean it!"

A deep scarlet flush washes over you. "I hardly think so..."

"Trust me, it was," he cuts in, his eyes bright, a kind of youthful sparkle in them that looks good on him. "My only regret is I didn't even ask you your name... you know... before..."

He stops, chucking warmly, dabbing at the sticky mess on his belly before he drapes the towel over his lap and swings his legs around so he's sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's Y/N," you say, quietly.

"Van," he offers, holding out a hand to you in a greeting gesture, laughing when you accept it. Then you're laughing too at the absurdity of the belated formalities now when you've already shared an intimate moment together.

"Note to self," he grins up at you as you break away and get to your feet. "Make sure you're on first-name terms with a girl before you accept her offer of a hand-job!"

"Oh my god!" You giggle, cheeks glowing, huge grin splitting your face in two as you raise up a hand to your face, embarrassment flooding you now.

"I... errr... suppose I'd... errr... better give you some privacy now... you know, to get dressed." You start to back away, glancing down as you start to turn, feeling awkward now the heat of the moment has dissipated and it's painfully obvious the two of you are nothing more than strangers thrown together under a happy coincidence.

"Hold up... wait... Y/N..."

Van's voice comes urgently, stopping you in your tracks. You spin around, coming to face him, looking at him expectantly, surprised to see an awkward hesitance about him. He's still naked save for the small towel he's holding which is barely covering his modesty and you battle with yourself to keep a straight face.

"On my way in I saw this little coffee shop just across the road. I don't suppose you'd like to go and grab a drink with me would ya... if ya not busy that is? I figured you probably got off work soon?"

His voice rises up hopefully and your stomach flips with excitement but you try not to let it show, keeping your inner fangirl in check who's bursting to start doing a celebration dance at this dazzling turn of events.

"Yeah," you nod, returning Van's warm grin with one of your own. "Yeah... I'd really like that."

#good touch #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #van mccann fanfic #van mccann #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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sunghoonnsupremacy · 1 year ago

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#LOVETALK! - warnings: cuss words, slapping.

001. - 002.

my legs felt wobbly as if they were about to break into tiny pieces resembling porcelain, feeling his stare on my figure. walking over to my friendgroups lunch table, I try to keep my focus away from the cat shaped eyes that are boring into my soul.

"soomin-ah, are you okay? " my friend karina asks with a worry filled look on her face. I nod with a smile and sit down next to her, preparing to eat my food. my other friends, keeho and aeri quickly wave my direction as they continue to munch on their lunch.

a sigh escapes my mouth when I feel my stomach grumble at the lack of food. I grab my chopsticks and eat some gimbap, trying to eat as much as i could before the bell would announce more pain and suffering.

when all of a sudden, a silence falls upon the table without me noticing.

my thigh shivers under the cold touch of somebodys hand, while sensing a presence sitting down next to me.

"hey soomin. " his voice basically in need of an emotion. multiple (3) pairs of eyes fall on us when i turn to look at him with a shaky smile.

"hello jungwon. " I look into his eyes with a look of confusion. "are you still coming over? " his voice rearranging the mechanism in my brain.

when I accidentally take too long to reply, karina nudges my arm from beside me, knocking me back into my senses.

a fast nod moves my head, his smile appearing once again and squeezing my thigh. "good." and with that he stands up and walks out of the canteen.

"what was that? " keeho loudly asks me. I struggle to reply while thinking of a excuse. "we have a project due next week together so we agreed on meeting up at his place today. "

"yeah? what class? " keeho asks with narrowed eyes. "literature." if only they heard the lies on the tip of my tongue. aeri nods uncertainly and goes back to eating. a sigh escapes my mouth, doing the same.

"anyway, I heard there was a party happening soon at the frat house. you know the one where sunghoon is in. " karina announces with a giddy smile and claps her hands at the mention of another party.

we all laugh at her enthusiasm, karina pouting in frustration. "hey whats so funny? " she crosses her arms over her chest and grumbles.

"nothing rina, you're just an alcoholic. " aeri giggles, still finding it funny.

"do you know the date? " I speak up, wanting to hear more about the booze filled event. karina checks her phone and scrunches her eyebrows, replying with a "in two days i suppose. thats friday. "

shit. Im supposed to be at jungwons day that aswell. how do i cover that up? isn't he friends with sunghoon? would he let me go? I let out a frustrated noise as they all look at me, weirded out.

"you can't come? " keeho asks with a frown. I sigh once again and rest my head on my palms. "I can't, my parents invited me over for dinner and to stay the night. " another perfect lie being said by me today.

"oh come on im sure you can convince them to let you go out. you're 18 already. have some fun once in a while! " karina giggles and puts her hands in a prayer motion. a bunch of please's come out of my friends mouths as I laugh at their desperation and nod.

"okay okay ill ask them. ill let you guys know later! " I shoot them a quick smile and finish my food, almost perfectly timed with the bell ringing.

all four of us let out a groan at the sound, knowing that we have to spend another hour or two in this shit hole before getting to go home and into their comfortable bed (them atleast).

we say our goodbyes, hence our classes being in different parts of the school building. I quickly run over to my biology class, not wanting to piss off my grumpy teacher even more.

sitting down in my seat, I turn around to greet nicholas, a former neighbor of mine. "hi nicholas! how are you today? " a sweet smile sits on my face while I wait for his response.

he smiles back warmly and answers, "hey. im good, how are you, pretty? " he shoots me one of his signature winks, resulting in me giggling at his bad flirting attempt.

a glare settles on his face when he notices me laughing at him instead of falling for him. "one day I'll get you to take me seriously. " he rolls his eyes and leans back into his chair.

" yeah sure, mr. lover" I sign quotation marks, mimicking what he calls himself both offline and online which I find quite embarrassing might I say, hence him not pulling one girl ever.

he groans and kicks my chair. "you just don't get the love I send out. " he sighs, flipping his hair like a disney princess. I snort at this, knowing the only love he ever shows to anybody is his sock.

before we get to chat more, the teacher hurries into the class, apologising for his late arrival leaving me quite suprised since I've never seen the dude own up to his mistakes before and I've been in this class for a year now.

biology goes on smoothly, me answering a couple questions because im petty and like to beat nicholas in everything.

after class ends, we basically run out of the classroom in happiness that the day is over. nicholas throws his hand over my shoulder and walks me towards the school entrance.

I sigh, knowing I have to head to jungwons house instead of mine, otherwise it wouldn't end no where near well.

I give him a quick hug and say my goodbyes, trying to please jungwon by being on time.

after leaving a couple knocks on his door, his tall figure emerges from the wooden frame and pulls me in by hand, leaving me a bit stunned at his very forward action.

"jungwon what are you-" not even giving me the chance to reply, he locks the door and slams me onto the ground. I wince, since I was wearing a skirt and the cold wooden floors didn't do much help on the impact when I hit them.

"what were you doing with nicholas? huh? " he slowly walks over to me, glaring at me with cold eyes, something very different than seen from his at-school persona.

I try to think of a reply but his glare stops me from doing so. he bends down to my level and harshly grabs my chin with his slender fingers.

"answer me you bitch. you know I hate being ignored." his words are a slap onto my face as his fingers dig deeper into my flesh.

"nothing I was just saying bye to him. there's no need to get worked up. " I grumble, not meeting his eyes before realising I could've and most definitely should've worded that differently.

"don't speak to me with attitude, or we're gonna have a problem. " he lets go of my face and quickly pulls me up and slams me against the wall.

what is with this dude and causing me temporary back pain?

I nod and look back into his eyes, searching for some sort of emotion. "I'm sorry. " a quiet, whimper like sentence leaves my mouth, not wanting him to increase the ache in my body even more.

he rolls his eyes at my weak attempt to apologise , but lets me go. "don't pull that shit again, soomin. " he walks away into his (most assumed) living room and leaves me in the hallway.

"you can leave now. " he shouts at me from the living room, letting me go. I take the chance and get the hell out of there before he got even more angry.

how long has it been like this, you may ask? for about a month now. it started from cute smiles to creepy notes in my locker, leading up to this mess.

I've tried to escape his hold many times but it led to failed attempts. now I just learn to endure it.

arriving at my house, I plop down onto my bed, falling into a deep sleep. let's hope tomorrow won't be as tiresome as today was.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon #jungwon smut

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peterfriggingpan · 1 year ago

Text

Broken promises

Harry Styles fanfic

Warning! Contains smut.

"Oh come off it, Harry. You can't be serious!", Mark exclaimed, looking flabbergasted.

"I'm telling you, no more drinking. I promised.", Harry said, taking a slow sip of his soda, looking towards the bar.

They were hanging out at the pub as usual. It was a pub tucked away in a quiet little street, around a half hour away from London. It was the only place they had left. The only place he had left. To be normal. To feel normal. To pretend everything was the same as it was.

No one ever recognised him there. Or at least they pretended they didn't. And it was good enough for him. It was the same as he was doing. Pretending.

Mark had ordered his usual beer and was almost through with it, wondering aloud if he should order another one or switch to a gin. When Harry said he was sticking to sodas all night and every night from then on, Mark couldn't believe his ears. Bloody Harry Styles, doing everything from booze to weed to coke to everything all at once at his prime, was going stone cold sober.

"You're really good at making promises, aren't you?", his oldest friend remarked. Pretty shit at keeping them though, he thought to himself.

Harry smirked, his eyes never leaving their new-found target.

"So, are we still hanging out at the pub then? How can you be sober at a bloody pub? That's ridiculous, that is.", Mark ranted, visibly annoyed.

"Where do you propose we hang out then?", Harry prompted, knowing full well he didn't have an answer to his question.

"My place?", he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, no thanks. Your place is full of your bloody screaming children. You know I can't stand that for more than thirty minutes at a time."

"Yeah, right. Sometimes I think you love those kids more than me.", he said, laughing.

Harry didn't reply. He was busy staring towards the bar.

Mark turned around annoyed, to finally see what his friend had been staring at for the whole time they were there. Yeah, remarkably shit at keeping promises, he thought again, realising that his friend was looking at a group of girls sitting at the bar doing shots. Staring at one particular girl.

He sighed. "Just go over there already. I have my bloody screaming children to get home to."

"Don't mind if I do", Harry said, chucking the remainder of his soda in one gulp. He picked up his glass and walked towards the bar, muttering a half-arsed goodbye to his friend.

Mark left without saying goodbye back, but Harry didn't care. Mark was as loyal as they come, and no matter what he got up to he always seemed to be able to forgive and forget.

He had gotten to the pub about ten minutes before his friend that night, which gave him plenty of time to scope out the place. It was almost empty, apart from the table with the three usual pals of the owner, who where there every day of the week, and a group of girls who were probably on a pub crawl, half of them looking already drunk.

Mark used to joke that the only thing keeping their favourite pub from closing were Harry's generous tips. Harry thought he was probably right, judging by how dead this place was on a Friday night.

He had sat at their usual corner table and ordered a soda, trying to convince himself that he was going to keep his promise. He waited patiently for Mark, whilst trying to listen in to the girl's conversation to pass the time. He was keeping his head low subconsciously, trying not to get recognised by them, as he was so used to doing, but they didn't even glance his way once.

"Next round's on me!", a petite blonde girl from the group shouted, her high voice way louder than it needed to have been.

A bunch of excited "woos" came from the rest of the girls, and they all cheers'd together when their beers arrived.

"To Jenn, for finally getting the promotion she was chasing after for fucking two whole years!", one of them said.

The blonde girl screamed excitedly, meaning she must've been Jenn.

Harry shamelessly checked them all out, one by one.

The girl named Jenn was the shortest of them all, but she screamed the loudest, and she seemed pretty drunk out of her mind already.

Vomit city, Harry thought, even though every cell of his being was yearning to be as drunk as her right now.

Next to Jenn, was another blonde, with long curly hair, blue eyes and a prominent nose. She was laughing constantly, her high-pitched laugh instantly putting Harry off, even though he thought she looked pretty hot in that short leather skirt she was wearing, contrasting her doll-like face.

Then, there was a really tall girl, probably about the same height as Harry with the heels she had on, with bright red lipstick and a white dress, light-brown curly hair and the same blue eyes as the weird laugh girl. Looks like sisters, Harry thought, and then his eyes fell to her right ring finger, where he spotted a gold band. He instantly reached for his own ring finger, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where a ring would be.

Moving on to the last girl, he thought, but he couldn't see her clearly from where he was sitting.

He waited for a bit, figuring she was bound to move around and he could catch a glimpse at her, but she was sitting pretty still.

He was staring at her all night long, while Mark was chatting away at him, blabbing about his wife wanting him to wash the dishes every night and how he was sick and tired of driving all around town to pick up his kids from some place just to take them some place else. Harry knew Mark loved doing those things, and he was just messing about, just to have something to say. Mark's life was pretty much the same every day. Harry could sense that he felt embarrassed about that, every time they got together.

When they were growing up, everyone thought Mark was going to be the one to make it. He was on his way to be a brilliant football player, everyone said so. And then he hurt his knee pretty bad one day at practice when he was 15, and he wasn't the same ever since. So he got a job at a bank, rose steadily through the ranks, got married to a plain girl, bought a plain house and had plain children. Pretty embarrassing, compared to his world famous best friend.

Harry wished he could understand how jealous of his plain life he was. And he pretended he wasn't. That's what he was best at.

The last girl was wearing high-heeled black leather boots. Black sheer tights, short black skirt or dress, he couldn't exactly tell. Toned legs underneath.

He caught a glimpse of long dark, almost black curls.

He heard her singing along to the song that was playing. Some song about sweaters. Warm, sweet voice. Decent, he thought.

He heard one of the others call her Rosie.

I like the name Rosie.

Mark had finally caught on. He told him to go over there, so Harry went. As if he was waiting for his permission.

He walked slowly towards the bar, settling across from her, asking the barman to get him another soda.

She turned around at the sound of his voice, and he could finally get a good look at her.

She had long black hair, very long indeed. It was loosely curled, and it gave her a wild look.

High-arched black full brows, verging on unkempt, but suiting her.

Piercing eyes. Almond- shaped, honey coloured, almost yellow in certain lighting. Shooting daggers at him. Feral.

Sharp jaw-line, straight nose. Gold hoop earrings.

Full, rose lips.

Rosie.

Harry was taken aback by how intimidating she looked, almost unapproachable. He took his soda in hand, ready to get back to his table, disappointed.

And then she smiled. She smiled at him. Big, beautiful, genuine smile. Reaching her eyes, making her squint, tiny lines appearing next to them.

Oh, sweet Rosie.

Harry was hooked. And so was Rosie, it seemed, cause she excused herself from the group and went around the bar to sit next to him.

"Wanna buy me a drink?", she asked, smiling that big smile of hers.

Bold.

"Don't you think you've had enough?", Harry asked, smirking back at her.

"How about I buy you one then?", she remarked.

Very bold.

Harry laughed, and motioned to his soda. "Can't. Going sober."

"Oh, that's okay.", she said, still in high spirits. "I'm Rosie. And you are?"

"I'm Harry. Nice to meet you.", he said shaking her hand. Soft, warm, hand. He held it slightly longer than necessary, but she didn't seem to mind.

"You seem a bit more together than your friends.", he said laughing, as he noticed Jenn across the bar, almost falling out of a stool.

"Oh, yeah, I can hold my drink a lot better than them.", she replied. "It's okay, though, we all deserve to let loose sometimes."

"Couldn't agree more.", he smirked.

"Wanna come back to my place?", she asked, without hesitating. Unashamed, she stared at him intently, her suggestive look emboldening him.

"Hell yes", he exclaimed. Impulsive. He shoudn't have said that.

Too late now.

She took his hand, waved goodbye to her friends, and they were gone.

Harry drove, cause she didn't have a driver's license. He was taken aback by that, asked her how old she was. She said thirty, raising her eyebrows, as if waiting for a bad reaction. Challenging him to say anything about her age.

"Twenty-nine myself.", he said, making her at ease. At least she was older than she looked. Harry didn't think he'd like younger-looking girls, and yet here he was.

They chatted absentmindedly for the whole short drive, his hand brushing against her thigh as he was changing gears. He felt goosebumps coming on his arms, every time that happened.

Electric.

They arrived at her place. She lived in a small one-bedroom apartment, with a tiny bright yellow two-seater sofa, a bookshelf overflowing with worn-looking books, two glasses and a coffee mug half-full on the coffee table next to a laptop.

Feels more like a home than my stupid mansion, Harry thought, and then smirked at his depressive thoughts.

Poor rich man.

She led him to her bed.

"Take off your clothes.", she commanded, as she sat on the bed and looked at him expectantly, taking off her boots at the same time.

"As you wish.", he said, grinning mischievously.

He had missed this part, the new, the exciting, the unknown.

"You have a lot of tattoos, Harry.", she stated, after she watched him painstakingly remove his garments one by one.

Harry chuckled nervously, running his hand through his overgrown locks, that were at that awkward length between short and long.

"Yeah, is that a problem?"

"No problem at all", she laughed and pulled him onto her on the bed. She swiftly took off her top. Harry realised she wasn't wearing a bra. How come I didn't notice that before?, he wondered to himself.

It was those eyes. He couldn't take his off of hers. They seemed to have darkened in colour, making them seem almost black now.

Lust.

He kissed her hungrily, realising instantly that that was what he was waiting for his whole life. To kiss those lips. That was his life's purpose.

Sparks were flying. Their chemistry was undeniable.

She seemed to think the same, cause she reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm.

He took her skirt in his hands and pulled it down, taking her knickers and tights along with it carelessly, almost ripping everything apart.

He placed two fingers inside her, and she moaned loudly. He would do everything to hear her moan like that again.

He felt how wet she was, and couldn't help but smile as he was kissing her, feeling proud of himself.

She took him in her hand, her soft, warm hand. It took everything in him not to cum right then and there.

What the hell is the matter with you? You're acting like a bloody teenage virgin!, he thought, extremely annoyed at the hold she had over him. You've just bloody met the girl.

He ran his free hand through her long locks, slightly pulling at it. She seemed to like that, so he pulled even harder.

He continued to finger her, slow and fast and then slow again. He knew that drove them crazy. She was moaning even more loudly now, and he placed his hand over her mouth, laughing as he said, "You're gonna wake everybody up, babe. We don't want an audience now, do we?"

Rosie muttered, "No, we don't. This is just between you and me, babe." And then she moaned, longer and lower than before.

"You're driving me crazy.", he managed to spit out.

She reached over to her nightstand and took out a condom, passing it to him.

He removed his hand from her, and she grunted in protest.

He put the condom on as fast as he could, and climbed over her.

"I want you in me. Right. Now.", she said in between moans.

Harry obliged happily.

It was fast and it was slow all at once. He found himself stopping just to look at her for a bit. She looked even more like a wild animal now, her hair all over the place, her eyes looking at him hungrily, her fingers touching him all over, her full lips whispering his name.

Harry didn't want it to end. And yet, it was over in a matter of few minutes. Harry laid by her side whimpering. He could hear her panting, trying to catch her breath, her heart beating fast.

"That was amazing, Harry", she breathed, placing her arm on his chest, giving him a soft kiss.

"It sure as hell was, Rosie.", he agreed and heard her laughing.

Harry stayed there, staring at her bedroom ceiling, as he calmed himself down, trying to think clearly for once that evening. He had to get out of there soon.

He heard her heartbeat steadying, her breath slowing down, until she finally fell asleep.

Harry got up very quietly, trying his best not to wake her.

He put his clothes back on, and found his cellphone.

He typed a text and sent it.

"Coming home now. Not even a sip of booze, just as I promised. See you soon. x", it said.

He searched the pockets of his jeans and found what he was looking for.

The gold band that fit his right ring finger perfectly. He put it on and sighed.

He opened the door and left without a word, without a moment of hesitation, not noticing the pair of wild honey eyes looking back at him, tears threatening to spill over them.

Harry was pretty good at breaking promises.

----

I'M BACK BABY!

Had a sudden surge of inspiration and wrote this in one sitting. Hope you liked it! Sorry it's a bit long. Please let me know your thoughts.

Love, C.x

#harry styles #fanfiction #fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #peterfriggingpan #smut #smut fanfiction #harry #styles #one shot #angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

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voskhozhdeniye · 21 days ago

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Work shit

I can't believe they're this stupid.

At our job, you can be fired if you get written up multiple times in a certain period of time. Rape coworker is this close to getting fired.

The grocery night crew consists of 5 people. Dark Souls coworker, another coworker, Rape coworker, Rape Coworker Jr., and Dwight from The Office coworker.

The coworker without a nickname comes in an hour early and unloads the order. He's usually close to finished when the others show up.

He was off yesterday, so no one pulled the order out before they got there. Dark Souls is the head stocker. His anniversary is coming up. Him and his wife are big into Halloween, so they visit a bunch of haunted houses every year. He called the store and told management he'd be late coming in.

Rape coworker and Dwight from The Office coworker both have 20+ years with the company. Jr is 25 and has worked here since he was 16.

Nobody pulled the order out. They sat around and waited till Dark Souls coworker came in so he could bring it out. He was almost an hour late.

You have to treat them like children. You know what, that's unfair because I know children more responsible than them.

On Tuesdays and Saturdays, we get an order from an outside company that we have to work ourselves. Saturday Two weeks ago, Dark Souls coworker brought the pallet out for them to break down. The three idiots said they were going to go on break and would work the pallet when they got back.

While on break, they decided they weren't going to break it down. They came back and ignored it. Dark Souls coworker told me he told them once, and management had even told them to work it the day before.

After they got in trouble for that, I heard Rape coworker and Dwight pissed off at Dark Souls coworker because he didn't get in trouble. "He's the boss. He gets paid more than us."

Because they've been here so long, they're on a better pay scale than all the rest of us. Fucking victimhood.

Inventory is Friday. Management seems to be actively trying to get rape coworker out of here. Dumbass I work with doesn't know it yet, but she's getting sent over with the three idiots, and Dark Souls coworker is coming over with me.

So now it's four idiots because she's just like them.

I feel bad for the unnicknamed coworker. He comes in and just does his job.

Coworker and rape coworker are going to have dualing call outs every week.

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violettawriting · 2 years ago

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Chapter One

Francesca's POV

Friday night. Another college party. The 4th semester started three weeks ago and I already feel like I've been to enough parties for a lifetime. Me and the girls stop in front of the fraternity hosting the party, observing the decoration - which consists basically of a huge banner that reads "Happy 21st Birthday, Leon!!!" with questionable calligraphy and ink stains here and there.

"Ugh, men... why can't they make a simple banner right? Nothing in this decoration is appealing to the eyes." - Cami mumbles by my side and gets a laugh from Vilu.

"Cami, don't be mean. The boys did their best..."

I watch the place while my best friends discuss the manual skills of our male friends. Some people come in and out of the place, the music is muffled from outside and some flashes of colored lights escape through the windows. In the midst of the groups of people circulating around the facade of the house, I see Marco. He sees me too and smiles.

"Hey, I saw that." Camila nudges my arm. 'I was already wondering where our dear Marco Tavelli was. I haven't seen him in ages."

"Tonight promises to be interesting, huh, Fran?" Violetta laughs, teasing me. I roll my eyes and smile.

"Ha Ha. Girls, you know how my story with Marco is. Since he requested a transfer to London, we decided to take a break from... whatever it was that we had. I adore him, but it wasn't meant to be. Good thing he moved before we got into a serious relationship."

"Well, I like him. If you guys atarted dating, I'd approve 100%."

"I know, Vilu. You made that clear since the first time I bumped into him in the university corridors."

"Well, what can I say. I'm a romantic" she says, shrugging and then slotting her arms between mine and Cami's. "Now, let's go in. My boyfriend is waiting for me inside and I'm really in the mood for a drink."

***

The party has been going on for 3 hours now, and I'm slightly drunk. Not drunk like Cami, who is currently engaged in a dance battle - if you can call it that - with a group of Brazilian boys, but drunk enough to stumble twice on my way to the sofa in the corner of the room. Our whole group of friends is here tonight, as well as the rest of the entire university. After all, it's not every day that the motocross king and vocalist of the biggest band in Buenos Aires gives a birthday party. Funny how even in college, you can still feel like you're in high school sometimes.

I sit on the sofa, finally, and emit an involuntary sound as I feel my legs relax for the first time tonight. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall, letting the music enter my ears and take over me. Although I'm not a fan of this song - or more specifically, of the person singing it - I start humming the lyrics of Destinada a Brillar quietly. After a few minutes, I finally open my eyes and instantly regret it.

I see the guy sitting on the other end of the sofa, all dressed in black leather and his hair messy, staring at me with a mocking expression.

"What?" I ask impatiently.

Diego doesn't answer, he just laughs and turns his gaze to the crowd. Ugh, this guy….

Vilu and him have kissed a few times at parties just like this one, when her relationship with León wasn't going well and they took a break. I never liked that jerk and definitely never understood what she saw in him. Camila says it's the magic of bad boys, that seduces you when you least expect and makes you want more and more. Anyway, I wasn't surprised at all when my best friend came to me telling that Diego had gone braging to León about the great time he had with her the night before. Vilu eventually forgave Diego, but I didn't. This guy is always looking for trouble and seems proud of being an idiot.

It's no secret to anyone that Diego Hernandez is involved in illegal stuff. He's a drug dealer and I've heard that he once stole some shit from a rich girl from the university. Normally, I don't have much contact with him. In fact, I don't even remember that he studies with us most of the time. But from time to time he reappears, getting into fights or... hanging out with Marco.

Yes, Diego and Marco are friends. Best friends. That will never stop sounding crazy to me, considering that Marco is the sweetest and most respectful boy I've ever met. When I first started hanging out with Marco - before he told me he was moving to the other side of the world and ended our "relatioship" - I tried to ignore my convictions about Diego and have a good relationship with him, for everyone's sake. But that's just impossible. Diego is everything I disapprove of.

"Hey, Di." a short girl with curly hair and dark red lips approaches and starts talking to him (read: flirting). "You disappeared. I missed you this week in class."

I roll my eyes and try to ignore the conversation happening next to me. I try to focus on watching my drunk friends doing embarrassing things in the middle of people and it actually works. Until a guy with an unhappy expression enters my field of vision and starts approaching with wide, firm steps.

"Dude, are you crazy?" the guy yells when he stops in front of Diego, who just looks boredly up at his face from under his long, thick lashes. "You're kissing my ex-girlfriend in front of me, knowing damn well we broke up four days ago?"

"Man, you're drunk. Just go back where you were, I'm not looking for trouble, okay?" he replies. The girl, now sitting on his lap, huffs and rolls her eyes at her ex-boyfriend.

"Do you think I'm joking, asshole?" The guy's fingers tighten around the beer bottle in his hand, and I see a vein in his forehead about to explode. "I'm not afraid of you, Hernandez. Don't doubt that I'm capable of beating your ass up."

At this point, people around are already paying attention to the discussion. The music is still too loud but it's possible to hear some cheers coming from drunk boys. I look back at Diego and he slowly takes the girl off his lap and stands up, facing the man.

"Dude, seriously. I don't want to fight, okay? I'm not doing anything, just enjoying the party. And you should too. If you want to fight, go fight alone. It's not my fault your girl chose to spend her nightsitting on my lap". He stares the guy with firm and challenging eyes.

And suddenly, the guy punches Diego in the face.

Before I could understand what was happening, a fight broke out and everyone around me started shouting. Some people backed away as punches were thrown, forming an circle around the two fighters. The girl with red lips - now smeared - screamed desperately. I was stuck between the wall behind me and the two men fighing in front of me, meaning i couldn't leave to a safer place. After what felt like an eternity, a few boys managed to hold the furious guy for a few moments. And then, before I realized what I was doing, I pulled Diego by the arm firmly, guiding him to the nearest bathroom door, pushing him inside and entering right after him, slamming the door shut. When I locked the door, I turned to face Diego.

"Are you fucking serious?" I shouted, irritated. "Can't you go to a party without ruining everyone's night? Is fighting the only thing you know? You -"

Suddenly, aggressive knocks on the door behind me made me jump, and the drunk guy's slurred voice spitting threats to Diego only made me more stressed out.

"OH MY GOD, JUST SHUT UP! GO AWAY, THE FIGHT IS OVER, DOUCHEBAG!" I shouted back.

After some time, the knocking stopped, and I heard what sounded like León's voice yelling. I spin around to face Diego, feeling my face hot with angry.

"Are you happy? This fight just ruined León's birthday. And now I'm stuck in this bathroom with you because aparently I'm the only one trying to prevent the death of two young men tonight. Why are you even here? For God's sake, I--" I interrupted my speech when I see blood dripping from Diego's fingers, where his hand was holding his head. "Holy sh...did he hit you with a bottle?" I asked in shock.

"That's what it seems" Diego says dryly.

I run to grab something to clean the blood. I hand the toilet paper to Diego and rummage through the cabinets for some first aid supplies.

"Fuck, this hurts," Diego cursed while trying to stop the bleeding with the paper.

Finally, I found a box of band-aids and other first-aid materials and turned to the boy leaning on the sink counter, staring at the injury through the mirror reflection, clearly not knowing what to do. I took a deep impatient breath.

"You know what? Here, let me do this." I guided Diego to the edge of the bathtub, and he sat down, becoming shorter than me and giving me a good view of the huge cut on his scalp. "This is going to hurt," I say, short and to the point. I take a clean cloth and wet it a little, then bring it close to the wound, and when I finally touched Diego, he flinched and made a noise of pain. I clench my jaw and sigh, trying to contain my frustration.

"Fuck," he's tense, the word is said through gritted teeth. "Careful".

"I'm trying".

I go for it again, and this time, Diego doesn't flinch. After long minutes, I managed to clean the entire wound, including the blood that had dripped onto his ear, and improvised a terribly made bandage.

And then, for the first time, I looked down at his face, and Diego was staring at me attentively. I ignored it.

"Your eyebrow and lip are cut too," I stated.

"Really? Huh, that's funny. I hadn't noticed the bloody taste in my mouth and the pulsating pain above my eye," he said sarcastically.

"Ha." I said, annoyed. "For God's sake, what did I do to deserve this? I knew I should've stayed at home studying for my next exam," I kept rambling while Diego just stood still, letting me continue to clean up the mess on his face.

When I finally touched the gauze to his lip, it twitched, and Diego gasped weakly. I unintentionally raised my eyes to his, and something inside of me softened as soon as those big brown iris met mine. And before I could bring myself to apologize for a reason I didn't fully understand, he whispered a quick "sorry" and swallowed dry, while still holding my gaze. I looked away.

When I finished my work, my annoyance had dissipated a little, and I was able to talk to him again without spitting curses and yelling.

"That's the best I can do," I step back, observing my work.

"Thanks," he says weakly, standing up slowly and walking toward the mirror. Upon seeing the messy bandage, Diego let out a low mocking laugh. He's laughing. "We already know you definitely can't be a nurse."

I stare at the man in front of me incredulously, my mouth open. "I'm sorry? You're seriously gonna make fun of me after I saved you from bleeding to death?" Diego chuckles again and raises his arms in a sign of surrender.

"Okay, yeah, sorry. You did an awesome job fixing my bleeding head and face, okay?."

As I was about to reply something, a new voice echoes from outside again. "Fran? Diego? Are you guys in there?" I recognize Violetta's voice. "León already kicked that boy out. You guys can come out now."

I look at Diego as I respond to my friend. "Hey, Vilu. Yeah, I'm coming." I pass right by him, towards the door and unlock it, but before i open it and finally leave that crazy situation, I turn to Diego one last time.

"Just to be clear, the fact that I didn't leave you bleeding in the middle of this party doesn't mean I like you or can stand you. And just because that lunatic started the fight doesn't change the fact that you also messed up. Next time, do everyone a favor and don't show your face around here, okay?"

And with that, I walk out of the bathroom, without looking back.

#diecesca #francesca caviglia #diego hernandez #perfectly wrong #chapter one #violetta #violetta castillo #camila torres #león vargas

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 1 year ago

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Code Blue Ch. 32- Heartbeat

Summary: Lee refuses to give up. Jo and Megan clash, ending in a shocking twist. More shock ensues as Jo has another unpleasant encounter. Craig and Josie have another long talk over more wine. A trusting bond and friendship is created. Lee gets the wrong idea.

*Warnings* language, angst

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Ethan, Megan, Craig, Cyrus,

Salem, Massachusetts

March 7, 2023

The Lake House

"Hey, Jo, it's me again. I wish you'd at least talk to me. It's been a week. I see your things here in the guest room that you left and....everyday...I...I stare at the note you wrote. Your presence is everywhere, especially in my heart where no one else will ever be...I mean that baby. It's only you, it's only ever been you. Did you find my letter yet? I put it in your purse the morning after we had first made love. I...I need you to read that. I meant every word. Please, call me back. Let me explain things like I know I should have long ago. I'm ready now because...I can't lose you. I won't. I love you so much miss Massachusetts. Forever....and god...I miss you." Lee softly whispered as he closed his watery eyes.

Just as Lee hung up, the phone rang. He picked it up so fast, thinking it was you that he forgot to check the caller ID.

"Jo baby!?"

"No, Sorry Lee, it's Britt."

"Oh....hey, have you talked to her? Is she alright? I..." Lee hopefully blurted out.

"Lee, no, that's not why I am calling...and of course she's not alright, but I a not going to talk to you about her. The conference has been set for the negligence case. It's next week."

"So, the results of Henrietta's autopsy are back? What did it say???"

"I cannot tell you that Lee, you know that."

"Jesus Britt, just tell me if she died because of something I did. You know how long I have been waiting for this. I need to know."

"I'm sorry, I can't. Just a head's up, Mr. Carpenter will be attending, which that was to be expected. It's at 10am on Monday the 13th."

"The 13th...great." he said sarcastically. "Well at least it's not a Friday. Alright...I will be there."

All because of you, Lee had become superstitious about things when he never used to be, for he had witnessed way too many things to not believe, such as all the crazy relevant signs regarding you and him and also the thing pertaining to his parents and Jacob.

"Hey, can you at least tell Jo? I really need her there...I..I understand if she declines but...could you at least tell her? She won't call me back and I don't know if she's even listening to my voicemails or reading my texts and she hasn't even been online."

"If I see her. I'm not going to just text her about it. This is all between you and Josie. A word of advice though, as I've told you before. Get your shit together Lee. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you and you definitely do not deserve her. I gotta go."

"Yeah I know she is. You don't have to remin.....hello?"

Britt had hung up which only pissed Lee off. He was still angry with her for blabbing her drunken mouth to you at his dad's funeral reception about his one night with her many years ago and also telling you about seeing him with Ethan and Jason once upon a time.

"Fucking Britch!" he shouted, slamming down the receiver. Lee owned an old corded land line phone and there was nothing quite like the satisfaction of hearing the ringing bang it made upon impact.

Lee sent you another text, then got dressed and headed out, for there was something special he wanted to do for you.

"I had you. Last night I had a dream that felt like a memory. A glimpse of what could have been. Crossed signals from another life, where instead of all of this, I had you....and life was exquisitely simple and we were desperately happy. It was no dream. It was real. We had all that. I had you....and it's all I still want. Tell me it's not too late."

You had stopped at your mom's to gather the rest of your things, realizing that some of the items you wanted were at Lee's lake house after listening to his most recent of many voicemails and he was the most valuable one there. Were your things that important to risk seeing him? It would completely derail your out of sight, out of mind tactic which you already knew would eventually fail because you just weren't strong enough to stay away from him. Every minute of everyday was pure hell and there was no way you could just get your things and go. You didn't even know how you had managed to make it an entire week. You weren't sleeping, you weren't eating, you weren't talking to anyone except Britt and your dreams were consumed of Lee's face in the few moments you actually able to drift off. Dreams that were just like the text he had just sent you and now...now he said he's ready to talk...but were you? If what he had to tell you scared him this bad, then honestly, you were also scared to death to know the truth that you so desperately wished for. Well, isn't that what Daughtry crammed into your head at least fifty times this week at random times? the song 'It's Not Over'. Be careful what you wish for cause you just might get it all... and then some you don't want....

You sat on your bed and began digging through your purse to find this letter he said he put in there. How did you not see it? You soon understood after rummaging through your pile of junk and finding it on the bottom. You swear you had everything but the kitchen sink in there. You had to roll your eyes and lightly smile in wondering how the hell he ever thought you would find it. Why didn't he just give it to you? Maybe it was intentional? Maybe he wanted you to find it at a time you needed it the most...like now.

As you reluctantly opened it, knowing how bad it was going to hurt, you could smell Lee's cologne which hurt the most of all. You brought it to your nose and inhaled him in deeply, then began reading..

"My Dearest Jo,

One day our eyes met and you smiled at me and I had to pause for a moment because I felt safe, and I had not recognized that feeling. It was as if I just knew you would be standing there when I looked up again, and you were, literally in my house. I don't even have the right words to describe this to you, but I just knew, somehow. Despite all of the odds that have worked so cruelly against me, I knew in my heart that I had finally found the one. I truly feel that you and I love with a love that is more than love. The first time I realized I was in love with you, it was a night I couldn't fall asleep, because I knew that my new and strange reality was better than my dreams. Our tight hugs, our late night conversations, our almost kisses, I remember it all, and sometimes...a tear falls while doing so. You gave me something that no one ever had before. You gave me peace. Like a river that had been rushing, pulled by the current for too long, you made my waters still. I found rest in your arms.

I love you to the moon and back and beyond all the stars in the sky."

Forever,

Lee

Now you were just ugly crying as you clutched the letter against your pounding chest. This man was for real and he had been all yours. No one had ever spoken such beautiful and heartfelt words to you. No one had ever touched you or looked at you the way he had. No one could ever ease your anxiety, no matter what they did and how hard they tried, but it all seemed to have disappeared when he was with you, for his arms made it all go away, just like on the elevator. This was where you were supposed to be. He was home to you. Was it too late like he asked? Could he truly forgive you for selfishly walking out on him?

You needed to try and be rational this time because your irrational decisions are what got you in this mess in the first place, so you decided to go take the things you had back to your apartment and think it all over with out the presence of your sinister sibling in your orbit. Down the stairs you went, trying to ignore Megan who sat in the kitchen, talking on the phone and smoking a cigarette. That part, you could not ignore.

"Put that out! Mom will have a shit fit and I don't need to worry about you burning the house down with her in it."

"I gotta go babe. See you soon." she told the anonymous person on the line, then hung up and turned to you.

"You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't live here." she cockily smiled and took another hit, audaciously blowing the smoke right at you as you angrily stood over her.

Every ounce of rage you had pent up inside of you as you ripped it from her hand and ran it under the kitchen faucet.

"What the fuck! That was my last one!"

"Damn right it was! Go outside and smoke, preferably down on the street corner, doing what you do best, where you could earn some money to buy more instead of mooching off mom!"

"Oh that's just great Josie, coming from the beloved daughter who has all of Daddy's and Jason's money and don't have to work!"

"Gee Megan, do you ever wonder why that is??? You've been gone for years and then just pop in here when Jason dies. Did you really think he would leave you anything after all you have done?? And Dad's money is controlled by mom per his wishes. And I DO work, remember?? Or did you forget the family businesses I help with that you abandoned??? I guess you'll have to keep whoring it up."

"You entitled little bitch! So special aren't you?? And mom has control over your precious little boat too that by the way, she's selling!"

"I am special Megan, because I don't use my family or do shitty things to them! The only reason you're even here is because of mom allowing it since you're her daughter but she still knows what you are. A fucking freeloader....and mom would never sell Jason's boat. She would have told me first of all so you can stop lying just to piss me off."

"Ohhh no no no! No lies, you'll see. She wants no ties to his lifestyle and so you know, I do have a man now and he's quite rich thank you. A sugar daddy per se. How's that area going for you sis??"

Megan's grin was telling, as if she already knew about you and Lee's split and it distracted you from what she just said about the Haunted Star.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean??"

"Oh nothing. Just an observation. You just can't seem to keep a man's interest solely on you can you? First Gerry, now Lee. At least Gerry though, didn't screw you over for a guy."

"You need to shut your mouth before I shut it for you." you snarled though clenched teeth. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about!"

"Oh yes I do, and much more."

Just then, the rumble of a motorcycle pulled up and stupidly made you think for one second it was Jason until it began obnoxiously beeping.

"Gotta run! Ta Ta.." Megan jested and trotted out the door.

Out of sheer curiosity, you walked outside to see who the mystery man was and you soon wished you hadn't. There was Ethan on a Harley, black tee, no helmet, just like your brother would do.

He revved it up and smiled wide as you gaped at him.

"Ooooh she looks porangi." you heard him tell Megan who laughed hysterically and hopped on behind him, then off they went as Ethan winked at you.

After you collected your dropped jaw, you raced inside and called your mom, for she needed to be warned about Ethan. Even if she knew about him, she surely didn't know who he was.

"Mom! Call me back asap! You need to kick Megan out. Did you know about the guy she is hanging around??? He's bad news mom and I also need to talk to you about something she told me which better not be true. Call me! Love you."

You gathered your stuff and headed back to your apartment, completely mind blown over what you had just witnessed, so much so that you were trembling all over. Megan was a real tool and now it made sense pertaining to her not so subtle hints and knowing about Lee's sexuality. Ethan's been telling her things and surely, he was just using her to get to you and Lee, not that you cared about her one bit, for she deserved everything she would get by keeping company like Ethan.

"Stupid girl!!!" you shouted, wiping tears of anger from your eyes. You wanted to call Lee so bad, but first, you were going to go and calm down, then go from there.

In your frenzy of racing up the stairs of the apartment complex, you turned the corner and did what you did best, clumsily tripped over your own two feet and dropped your box of stuff, spilling it all over the hallway floor.

There, by the elevator gate stood Craig with some much older man that you had never seen before, sporting a pony tail of long silver hair, a matching goatee and a suit and tie. He looked at you, then Craig and back at you with surprise, then stepped forward.

Craig immediately rushed in front of him to help you pick up the scattered stuff.

"Hey there Jo, are you alright?"

"Uh...y...yeah.." you stuttered through your embarrassment as you knelt down to assist.

Craig looked up at you a few times, then quietly spoke. "Are you sure? You...you've been crying..."

"Oh, that. No. Bad allergies, that's all." you quickly responded, keeping your head lowered while piling the stuff back in the box.

"I hope I didn't startle you there miss...Jo is it?" the stranger asked with an attempt to know your name.

You stood up and Craig handed you the box. "No, no...I...I was just in a hurry and not paying attention....and...it's...just Josie."

Craig nervously chuckled, offering a cute smile. "Ahhh yes, that's right. Just Josie."

"Where are your manners Craig? Aren't you going to introduce me to your beautiful friend here?" the man smelling of old spice asked, gazing at you in a way that creeped you the fuck out.

Something in Craig's eyes and sudden change of demeanor told you that he did not want to and it was becoming clear to you that you had caught them both off guard. There were also these tiny beads of sweat forming on Craig's forehead.

"Uh...yeah. Sorry um, Josie, this is....my father...Cyrus."

Cyrus. Why did that name sound familiar? It certainly wasn't common....but somewhere, you've heard it.

He stretched his arm out, desiring you to shake his hand in which you reluctantly took, for bad vibes is all you got from him. His hand was large and clammy, pretty much how he looked in general.

"It's...n...nice to meet you." you softly said and quickly retracted your hand, cringing inside.

"Oh the pleasure is all mine...Josie. Do you...have a last name...just Josie?"

You glanced at Craig, who's eyes refrained from yours and rested on the box you were holding as his perspiring was becoming a bit more profuse. This man, his father, apparently made Craig feel the way you did...but why?

"Uh...it's....March."

Craig's hands went inside his pockets and his head lowered even more as Cyrus's eyes slightly widened, then swayed over to his son.

"Well...Miss March, again, it was a pleasure. I must be on my way now. I will speak with you later...Craig."

The tone of how he said your last name and the way he once again looked at Craig, had your skin crawling.

Cyrus then left, leaving an anxious Craig to try and avoid you.

"Well, I am sorry to have kept you. You said you were in a hurry so I will let you get back to whatever it was you were doing." he rambled out and attempted to quickly walk away.

"Hey, wait." you called to him, causing him to freeze at his door and slowly turn around.

"Maybe I should be asking if you are the one who is alright?" you then asked.

"Who me?"

You giggled. "Well, you are the only one out here aren't you?"

Craig's head dropped as he chuckled. "Yeahhh, I guess I am. No, I'm fine. Really."

Liar, you thought. "Well, ok...hey I um...well, you asked me once before if we could talk again and share some wine. Would you like to?"

His hands went to his hips as a befuddled look graced his face. "You mean...now?"

"No time like the present. I really could use a glass or two after the day I've had and try to relax a bit. Seems you could...too?"

"I uh, thought you were busy?"

"Yes, well, I was, to try and gather my thoughts and all. If you can't or don't wan to, it's alri.."

"No, no. Sure. Come on in."

Craig politely opened the door, allowing you to enter first and bee-lined straight for the wine.

"Make yourself at home. Red wine good for you?"

"Yes, that's fine, thank you."

You sat the box down and then walked over to him.

"Once again, where are my manners. Here, have a seat."

Craig handed you your wine and pulled a chair over for you, then he plopped down upon a stool, seemingly still very nervous as he drank down his glass in two gulps and poured another from the bottle he brought with him.

"Craig...are...you sure you're ok?"

"Huh? Oh...yep." he simply said as he nodded with a smile, also seemingly very distracted.

"Enough about me. How about you? Do you want to tell me why you lied about having allergies?"

"When you tell me why you're lying about being fine."

"Oooh. Touche'. Alright then. But ladies first. I insist."

"Ok fine. You're right. I had been crying. Seems to be all I do anymore. I don't know. It's a long story that would bore you to death."

"You hardly bore me. In fact, not even a little bit. I actually find you quite intriguing and I'd like to get to know you, so here's the deal. You tell me what you want to. No pressure, no judgment, just a set of ears and any advice if you ask for it."

Craig's face was sincere and patient, especially his kind and soft sky blue eyes that studied your pained deep gold ones, trying to figure you out. Amber, he thought, was the best description he could think of as he became a bit lost in them....and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you felt you could trust the man you'd only spoken to less than a handful of times.

"Well...I guess I could start with my sister, which I despise even calling her that. Mickey and Mallory would be a better fit since that's pretty much what I witnessed today as she took off with a complete psycho. A match made in hell."

"Ahhh, Natural Born Killers. Good flick. She's that bad eh?"

"Yeah, and much more. She's done so many terrible things to me and to people I care about and this creep, who's also caused me and those I love nothing but trouble, is suddenly in her life, well, probably has been for awhile and I know it's intentional, just to get to me and Lee."

"Lee...your boyfriend right?"

Your eyes drifted away in sadness, not knowing how to answer that now.

"Well....no, I mean, yes...or he was...oh my god, I don't even know right now." you stammered as your eyes began to sting. No way, you weren't going to cry in front of him. Nope. The more you told yourself that, the harder it became to stop it until you just broke down, immediately throwing your palms over your face.

Craig's expression instantly turned sympathetic and he quietly got up to get you a tissue, then he sweetly kneeled before you.

"Here sweetheart."

You couldn't move. Mostly because of humiliation.

"I..I never do this!" you loudly muttered through your hands in frustration. "I never cry in front of complete strangers."

His soft fingers, sprinkled with a rainbow of paint, gently took your wrist and coaxed you out of hiding.

"I'm not exactly a complete stranger and as I said, there's no judgment here. Your secret is safe with me. I won't tell if you don't." Craig assured you as he offered you the tissue with a warm comforting smile.

He actually managed to bring a light smile to your lips and you humbly took the tissue, then quickly wiped your mascara streaked tears away.

"I..I am so sorry. This is so embarrassing."

"Hey, no. Don't do that. Don't apologize for being human. A person can only take so much and sometimes, a good cry is needed, or even hurling a smurf against the wall in a bout of rage and watching it splatter can also suffice."

You hadn't laughed so hard all week as you remembered him throwing the can of blue paint against the wall and telling him it looked like he murdered a smurf. In fact, you hadn't even laughed at all, or even smiled, yet Craig managed to bring both out of you in a matter of 2 minutes.

"There...there we go." he chuckled. "That's better. We can stop talking if you want."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that easy mister." you giggled. "But...to finish up, this asshat my twisted sister is hanging around, he's the entire reason my relationship is in shambles. He's a manipulator, a liar and he's dangerous. He put his own brother in the hospital and got away with it because everyone is scared of him, rightfully so of course, but yeah, he uh, he is jealous of me and wants Lee all to himself, but Lee...he don't want anything to do with him...or at least he claims he don't..."

"But you...don't believe him?"

"I want to...I...I don't know Craig. What I do know is Ethan will stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"E..Ethan?" he asked, seemingly stunned.

"Yeah, do...you know who I am talking about?"

"He wouldn't happen to have long dark hair, usually in one of those man bun things, British accent?"

"Jesus...yeah that would be him. How...how do you know him??"

Craig stood up and went to get more wine. He knew him alright, because of Jason.

"You're right Josie...he's very bad news. Have you ever heard of the Zacchara's?"

"Well yeah, my uh, my brother knew them, Johnny in particular and I know Ethan hung around him...but...how do you know this?"

Craig gulped down his wine, then nonchalantly turned with a forced smile.

"Most do. Massachusetts is crawling with mafia. So, is this Ethan terrorizing you as well?" he asked, swirling the wine around in his glass, almost as if he were becoming angered.

"I suppose that would be an appropriate term. I mean, he definitely harasses me and Lee. As I said, he had the audacity to show up today at my own mother's house to get Megan."

"Well...if he comes around here or bothers you again, let me know. I'll handle him."

"That's...very kind of you, but really, you don't want to get involved with this dude and I really don't want you to be...I mean...he stabbed his own brother..."

"His kind don't scare me, but thank you, for...caring. Don't get much of that in my life."

Craig went and poured another glass, then sat down, looking a bit glum.

"Here Jo...or just Josie I mean, have another glass yourself." he offered, holding the bottle out to you with his arm a bit wobbly, clearly feeling the effects of the red vintage he had been drinking rather quickly.

"Thank you. Soooo....are you speaking about your...father possibly? You just...seem a little nervous around him and even a little anxious."

"Well, I guess that's my cue to talk now." he chuckled. "But, I'd rather not speak about him if that's alright. I didn't even expect to see him here today. Just like the other dude, he just showed up after being...away...for a few years and well...he's also...kind of an asshole." he said with a grin.

"Oh, well of course you don't have to to talk about him or anything you don't want, just as you told me. May I ask then...about your little girl? Have you seen her yet?"

"Blaise...no. She's my heart. I seemed to have lost all inspiration in my art since she's been gone. I know there's a possibility she's not even mine, but it doesn't change how I feel about her." he said as he took out his phone, looking so defeated that it broke your heart.

"Of course it doesn't change how you feel. She'll always be your little girl, even if she possibly don't share your blood. I know someone who is going through that and he loves his son just the same. I look around here at all your work and honestly, I think it's amazing. You're very talented Craig. Much better than my artwork." you chuckled. "Maybe...I don't know, what if you put everything that you're feeling about your daughter into your work, you know, do it for her?"

"Pretty words." he softly said as he picked up his glass. "But...thank you. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up. You're sweet, you know that?"

"So you're an artist too huh?" Craig continued, seemingly not wanting to talk about Blaise anymore.

"I wouldn't exactly call it that. You...you're an artist. Me? not so much. My work is nowhere as good as all this."

"Well, I'll tell you what. How about if I come over to your apartment tomorrow and I'll take a look at it...I mean, if that's is alright with you?"

"You...want to see my work? Really? Uh, well, ok. But just don't laugh because...I warned you." you giggled again.

"Yes, I really want to see it. And...if you ever want to use my studio, just ask. I don't have a problem with that. Also, so you know, I would never laugh at you. You're far too beautiful, especially on the inside. You're a rare gem just Josie."

"I uh..."

Your phone beeped, saving you from the words you couldn't find. It was Lee, which made your butterflies go flutter happy.

"Hey...I am sorry to keep texting and calling but...can I please see you? I...I have something for you and I just...I just really want to see your face. I am down at the pay and park garage by your place. I'll wait for about an hour. Jo...I love you so much. Please come."

Craig observed your reaction as you read the text and could tell you were going to leave when you quickly drank down your wine.

"Saved by the bell...again." he softly laughed.

Not really, you thought as your anxiety jumped into high gear knowing Lee was just down the block. You weren't prepared to see him and hear the dreadful truth he said he was ready to tell you. The truth that you knew would back up Ethan's claims. If Lee felt nothing for him, then why did he hide it from you?

Releasing a heavy sigh, you clutched your chest and closed your eyes, attempting to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth, for if you didn't try to control it, Craig was about to witness a full on panic attack.

"Whoa hey there sweetheart, what's happening?" he asked and swiftly came right to you, cupping your face in his hands.

You don't know what happened at that moment as you found yourself pressing your body against his, your cheek against his chest and wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Craig's heartbeat was what you were in need of, the soothing sound of something steady and stable, just like you did with Lee.

After the initial shock wore off, Craig's gaping mouth closed, then he slowly and hesitantly let his arms embrace your tiny trembling body. He didn't know what else to do, so he quietly stood still, keeping you in your safe zone until you were ready to release him.

Craig's body was firm and muscular, but the way he held you was as if you were a fragile flower. He reminded you somewhat of Jason. Not in how he acted or in his looks, although he also had blue eyes like your brother, but in his height, build and clothing of the typical black tee and jeans. And what in the world was the cologne you were inhaling?? It was heavenly and intoxicating...possibly Dolce Gabbana? Whatever it was, it was calming, just as the thumping of his heart was and it took your shakes away.

"You ok?" Craig softly whispered, afraid to move as his chin rested lightly on your head while listening carefully to your breaths that were now beginning to relax.

Once you came out of your state of panic, you panicked again at what you had done and flew back out of his arms.

"Oh god, Craig, I...I am SOOO sorry. I...I...I...I sometimes...get these attacks....anxiety and all and...and....heartbeats...I go for heartbeats...they're peaceful and soothing and...and...."

"Heyyyy, try to relax so you don't have another one." he calmly said, placing his hand on your cheek. "I don't know what happened, but...you're safe here, I'll make sure of that. As far as heartbeats, well, you did listen to your mother's for nine months so it makes sense why you would subconsciously seek that out."

Or maybe it was just him that you found peaceful and soothing.

"Yeah, I suppose that makes sense...I just feel so ridiculous, jumping on you like that. I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me, some hot mess that you now regret befriending."

"Well, I won't lie, you're definitely hot, but I don't see you as some mess. I am actually thinking, what could have happened to this sweet girl to cause her defenses to come out in such a way? and also, you...think of me as a friend now?"

Was he for real? Like, a good real? He seemed to say and do all the right things and to genuinely care. Maybe it was because he had been through what you had, being cheated on and made to feel worthless....and having to question how someone feels about you.

"Yeah, uh, I guess I do. You've been so kind to me, which a lot of people just aren't anymore. Annnd, you didn't freak out on me when I freaked out, which I've had my share of that over the years from people who were closest to me. So..yeah, I'd like to call you my friend. I...I trust you and that says a lot in itself, cause that certainly don't come easy for me."

Craig looked quite befuddled and even a bit bashful as he smiled and lowered his head before bringing his baby blues back to you.

"Well now, it would seem I was correct about you being a rare gem. I totally get everything you just said and well, I didn't freak out because you needed comfort, not panic. Thank you Josie. I am honored to be called your friend and to BE your friend.

"Alright, it is settled then...friend." you smiled. "But..."

"Ohh, there's the but.." he chuckled.

"No." you laughed. "Seriously though, I hate to do this, sorry....BUT...I gotta go. I will see you tomorrow then?"

"Sure. Just shoot me a text when you want me to stop by. Thank you Josie...for spending time with me. It was really nice to have someone to talk to."

"Thank you as well, for what you did for me. It was nice to see you and talk to you again. Try to have a good rest of your day ok? You can always text me if you need anything, I don't mind."

Craig then walked you out like a gentleman, checking all of your surroundings. "I'll do that. See you later little lady."

Your heart was racing again as you walked into the car garage, which was full of cars but you didn't see Lee's or him as you walked around. Surely he wouldn't have left already?

Quickly, you texted him, simply stating you were there. The beep of his phone had you spinning around to see him approaching you with a humble smile.

"Jo...you came..." he said, slightly out of breath from hurrying to get to you.

"I...yeah...where's your car?"

"I drove my dad's old truck today."

"Oh...well, why did you park here instead of at my place?"

"I came to see Gordon, he works upstairs. Hoping to come to some arrangement with him over the farm."

"I see, well, how's that going?"

"I don't know, he's out right now, so I figured I'd just wait around and....are we really going to share small talk here like we are old friends catching up Jo?"

"I uh, well I don't know what you want me to say?"

"Maybe that you miss me and still love me? That you want to try and work this out, because I know I sure do."

"Do you? Really?"

"Jo please. Baby you know I do."

"Honestly Lee, I don't know anything, which became quite clear last week."

"Yes, last week when you just....left me, not giving me the chance to explain. You won't even talk to me."

"I gave you every chance to explain for how long now Lee, and you didn't and that alone tells me all I need to know."

Lee stepped up to you with his hands in his pockets and sad eyes.

"What you need to know is I love you, only you. Did you get my letter? Did you read it?"

"Yes, I did. It was very beautiful. Said all the right things."

"So you don't believe any of it? Jo, my god. I wrote that to you after we first made love. I wrote that from my heart Jo."

"Lee, I know you did. I'm not saying that you don't feel something for me, I'm..."

"FEEL something? You really don't believe I love you do you? Ethan wins again and you're letting him."

"No, YOU'RE letting him...and speaking of Ethan, he was at my mom's fucking house today, picking up Megan."

"What???"

"Yeah...you heard that right. He was on a motorcycle and gave me the smuggest look when they left, and why? because he can. He can do whatever the hell he wants because NO one will stand up to him and now he's using my naive idiot sister to get under my skin even more."

"Jo...I am so sorry. I know, it's all my fault and.."

"You think??"

"Can we...go inside and talk about this...please?"

"Lead the way." you softly snapped and followed him up the stairs.

Lee took you into a small office room and closed the door, then he somewhat sat upon the desk and gazed at you with his sparkling sapphires. A gaze that made you just want to run into his arms and madly make out with him

"Jo...I really am truly so sorry, for everything that I have put you through and still am. I never meant for any of this to happen. Please tell me you believe that at least?"

His pleading eyes made you soften towards him. "Of course I know you never meant for any of this to happen...but...it did. Why Lee, why couldn't you just tell me the truth, ALL of it? That's what gets to me the most. It makes me feel, no, it makes me believe that you have unresolved feelings for Ethan and I can't do it Lee...be second choice again or some stand in until you get bored. I need your heart to beat only for me."

"God no Jo, that is not what you are, nor have you ever been. Can't you see it? Can't you even try to? I'm here Jo. I've always been here...for you. Not him. I'm here, begging you to believe me. Why would I do this if my heart did not beat only for you? Sometimes, I swear it's going to stop without you by my side. An entire week Jo, you've been gone and it felt like a year and...my heartbeat right now...it's racing, it's alive again because you're here, feel it..."

Lee reached out and took your hand, pulling you to him and placing your palm on his chest as he held his hand over yours, gazing up at you with eyes of a lost little boy.

He was right, his heartbeat was rapid and strong and god, so was yours in that moment, being that close to him, feeling him, smelling him. Every ounce of control that you had possessed for that entire week was now gone as your hands went to his face, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

His supple lips, his tantalizing taste of mint gum and Drakkar aftershave rocked your core and if you culd have made love to him right there on that desk, you would have....but he suddenly stopped the kiss as he stood up, pulling your hands away.

"No, Jo, I can't do this."

"What? Why?" you asked in disbelief as you studied the look upon his face. A look of confusion in which you then sarcastically laughed. "Oh...it's him, that's why. Just as I thought."

"What? No Jo...it's another man's cologne that I smell all over you."

That just threw you for a loop as you had forgotten you were innocently just in Craig's arms.

"Oh god no Lee, I can explain that..."

"No, it's ok. I get it now. That's why you haven't spoken to me all week. So who is it? Gerry I assume since he follows you around like a damn police dog."

"Lee no, god no, stop it. There is no man, only you and you know it. The cologne, it's my landlord's and..."

"Your landlord's??? Wow, well that's a new one. So here you are, thinking I want someone else when it appears that you are the one who does. Is that it?"

"Oh my god, Lee stop. We were only talking and..."

"Talking? Over wine too? I thought I tasted it on your breath."

"For fuck's sake, if you would just let me talk. That's not how it was. Yes, I had some wine. I was having a bad day after seeing Ethan and reading your letter and I ran into him. I just needed someone to talk to and he was there. That was all Lee."

"I was there Jo! I'm here, always have been. You could have talked to me! But instead, you chose your landlord that you barely know to speak to about your personal problems?? Was I part of that conversation too?"

"Briefly yes, but I didn't tell him anything personal about us, just about Ethan. I wouldn't do that Lee."

"Sounds pretty personal to me, especially when his cologne is embedded in your clothes. How do explain that one Jo?"

"Because, after you texted, telling me you were here, everything snuck up on me, you know, like when it did to you at your lake house? I had a panic attack and I...I hugged him, just to try and work through it. If I hadn't, I probably would have passed out as it progressed. That's all it was Lee. I swear it."

"So...I caused you to have an attack is pretty much what you're saying. You could called me Jo, right when you felt it start and I would have raced down there, but you chose a man who don't even know you instead."

"Lee! Craig was right there and he's not a stranger. He's very kind and understanding."

"Which is exactly what you need huh, because I don't give that to you right?...and Craig huh. You're on a first name basis with him too. Well, don't let me keep you. I'm going to go see if Gordon is back."

"That's it?? Seriously?? Running away again. Imagine that. I thought you had something for me and were going to tell me everything???"

"Yeah that, well...my hearing is next Monday at 10, but you don't need to worry about that or anything else now because it don't even matter. It never did. Maybe I'll see ya around."

"Lee wait! Come on. Don't do this!"

"Do what Jo? Walk away like you did?" he calmly said and then did just that, walked away.

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