#so called two more offices about it. did that yesterday evening after both were already closed

[cauldroncreations]

why did god think it would be so funny to give me a terrible terrible phobia of anything to do with losing teeth or tooth pain or infection while also forcing me to go through some of the most horrifying tooth related ailments

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 1

I am finally ready to show you all the Sugar Baby!Steve/Sugar Daddy!Eddie fic I've been working on. I'm not sure how long it will go, but Steve's going to go on a journey with this one.

But I feel I need to go into the title of this fic a bit, because I feel it’s important to talk about before starting the story.

The Caged Bird Still Sings, because they are well taken care of and has every need met. They will never starve, or thirst or get too hot or cold, they will be cared for if sick or injured. The only price is the cage.

It’s like that owl that got released from that zoo by well-meaning ‘animal advocates’ that died by flying into a high rise building. If it had still been in the zoo it would have lived for another thirty years.

So in this story Steve starts off thinking that Eddie’s love and attention is only temporary and is actively trying to get a job, make money of his own, and move out and away from needing Eddie’s money and gifts to survive so that they can be on more even footing.

But as the story goes on and he can’t get work and he meets Robin, he slips into this melancholy for awhile thinking that if he wants to continue living like this there has to be some sort of trade and thinks it’s about sex.

Which is why Eddie refuses to have sex with him during that time. He wants them to be couple and knows that Steve isn’t there yet.

It’s only at the end when Steve realizes this isn’t temporary, that Eddie isn’t just trying to buy sex from him, that he settles into being taken care of. By Robin, by Eddie, by the rest of the band. Not because they don’t think he can take care of himself but because they love him.

There will be only two sex scenes in this. Once at the beginning before the Arrangement, and once at the end when they are both on the same page and they consummate their relationship.

If you think this isn’t your cup of tea, no problem. Let me know in the comments, tags, DMs, or even asks (I’ll answer privately) and I’ll take you off the list. I already have one that has told me upfront that they aren’t interested and won’t be tagged.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story.

~

Steve sat in his Bimmer, head hung low between his shoulders, tears streaming down his face. Everything he owned was in the trunk and backseat of the car. It was his car. The title had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen.

He was still wearing the stupid little green vest and name tag that bore the name Family Video. A place he no longer worked. He’d have to return them to the store in the morning, but for now, it created the illusion of still being employed.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he had three things; a home, a job, and a boyfriend. And now he didn’t have any of that shit.

All because last night his parents came home to find him and Tommy on the sofa with their hands in each other’s pants. Leaving no doubt about what they were doing.

They kicked Steve out mere minutes after Tommy fled, his father screaming that he wouldn’t have a dirty whoring fag in his house. All while his mother cried about losing her baby to those ‘horrid queers’.

Steve had called around to his friends looking for a place to spend the night, but they were all too afraid of his dad. His father roared with laughter each time a friend turned him down.

“They don’t want a dirty fag in their house either,” he said with a sneer as Steve hung up on his last hope.

“Now get the hell out of my house.”

Steve did as he was told and spent the night in his car in the parking of Family Video. When it came time to open the store, he grabbed his clothes and work vest and got changed in the bathroom.

By noon, his life was over. Keith had sat him down in his office and told him that due to morality clause that Steve had violated, he would no longer be working at Family Video. He handed Steve his last check and told him he had to return the vest cleaned with his badge by tomorrow or he would be forced to pay for them.

Steve cashed the check. It wasn’t much as it was only the beginning of the new pay period and he had barely worked eight hours before he had been fired.

He had some money in his savings account, another thing that had been signed over to him when he turned eighteen. But not enough for a hotel. So he went to the bank and closed out the account. All total it was only fifty bucks. That might get him a night at a cheap motel, but nothing past that. He would be homeless, penniless, and friendless if he tried.

But there was another way to get a warm place to stay at least for the night without spending everything he had.

He got dressed up in the sluttiest outfit he had. He pulled on tight leather black pants and yellow shirt that barely grazed the top of his belly button. He put on a little eyeliner and mascara, then he added strawberry lip balm to make his lips pop.

Steve opened his wallet and pulled out his fake ID. The one he got when he was sixteen off his cousin.

They looked close enough to be brothers and Scott was easy to change to Steve and ta da! He put it in front of his actual ID and drove out to the Hideout.

He parked far enough away from the bar so people wouldn’t see all his stuff in the back and then walked up to the line. He was so focused on getting in that he missed all the signs.

The lack of variety in clothes from those in the line, the bouncer asking for a high cover charge, higher than normal, and the most glaring? The great big fucking stage setup with the huge ass banner that said in bold fucking letters: CORRODED COFFIN.

Nope, it took getting a seat at the bar and the bartender straight up asking if his girlfriend was a fan of the band before Steve realized his error.

He was a prep surrounded by metal fans all there to see Corroded Coffin. Steve was familiar with them. But then again you had to be dead not to know the name of the biggest band to make out of Hawkins, metal fan or not.

Eddie Munson was older than Steve by a decade, so he was only ten when the older man took his band to LA and made it big. Which if you had listened to any of his teachers or even just anyone over forty at the time for longer than two seconds they would rant about how they never thought he would amount to anything. That making music was a pipe dream and to just accept taking his uncle’s place at the manufacturing plant on the outside of town.

He also knew that they made sure to stop and play here at the Hideout every time they did any American tour just to fuck with those assholes.

So he had really picked the worst night to have his life completely fucked over enough for him to even think about coming here to get laid. Because chances were, he wasn’t gonna. He just hoped that someone took pity on him enough to buy him his drinks so that he could shit-faced enough to endure sleeping rough again.

He ordered a dirty martini and hoped to be left alone at the very least.

~

Eddie was in the back tuning his guitar when Jeff came in shaking his head.

“What’s up, man?” he asked looking back down at his sweetheart.

“Some poor bastard wandered in on the night we perform,” Jeff said with a chuckle.

Eddie raised his head and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Come here, come here,” Jeff said, waving him over.

Eddie set his guitar down and walked over. Jeff pointed at the guy at the bar. Bright yellow shirt and shiny leather pants.

“Ooh...” he said with a wince. “Poor guy. Probably had a shit day and wanted to blow off some steam and now his day is just going to get worse.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, I’m half tempted to at least buy the guy a drink for the sheer fact he fucking stayed. The balls on that dude.”

Eddie watched as the guy fondled the stem of his glass. He licked his lips slowly.

“Oh no,” Jeff said, face palming. “I know that look. And absolutely fucking not. He looks super young, Ed.”

Eddie just shrugged. “He’s at least twenty-one, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past Monty.”

Jeff raised his head and blinked at him for a moment. Monty was a good bouncer who could spot a fake a mile away.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffed. “Objection retracted.”

Eddie clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Tell Chrissy to start a tab for this guy and have it be in my name and to put the word out that if anyone is seen harassing him will get kicked out.”

Jeff sighed but did as he was told. Eddie sat back down and began tuning his guitar again. He thought tonight was going to blow, but a little yellow canary just made things a hell of a lot more interesting.

~

Steve was sitting at the bar nursing his one drink for the evening and keeping his head down when a perky blonde slid up next to him.

“I need five bottles of Miller,” she told the bartender and then turned and gave Steve a once over. “And something for the fine gentleman here.”

Steve turned to look at her. Her hair was actually closer to red than blonde but she was cute in a preppy cheerleader kind of way.

“All these going on the same tab?” the bartender asked, handing her the five unopened beers.

She smiled up at him. “Yep! And all his drinks, too. All night. Whatever he wants.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow and then looked over Steve up and down. “God damn him. He’s doing it again?”

The woman just giggled and winked at Steve before taking her prizes with her.

Steve wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth so downed his drink and ordered a Tequila Sunrise to replace it.

But curiosity won out. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

The bartender chuckled and shook his head fondly.

Steve thought about saying something bitchy, but he really wanted his drinks for free and poking the bear was not a plan if he wanted that to happen, so kept his mouth shut.

The band came out and Steve knew he was in trouble. He objectively knew what the band looked like and vaguely knew who was who even. But all that blew out the fucking window in the face of Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Tight pants, leather jacket, shredded t-shirt, combat boots, and his hair whipping back and forth?

God, Steve was instantly horny and just as hard. He shifted in his pants and prayed that the tight pants kept his dick from showing too much. Otherwise, this was going be a very awkward evening.

He was listening to the band and bobbing along to the music when some dude over fifty came up to him.

“Name three songs off their third album,” he growled.

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then raised one eyebrow. “Dude, I’m just here for the booze. I’ve had a shit day just want to relax.”

“So you’re some townie who thinks that because this your fucked up hell hole that you can just take the spot of some real fan who wanted to see them more than you?”

Steve really didn’t know how to answer that. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what he thought.

“It’s not that serious,” Steve said, turning back to his drink. “They’re playing in both Indy and Bloomington. They can see them there instead of this dimly lit bar.” He mouthed ‘sorry’ to the bartender, who shrugged and tried to hide his smile.

“And how would you know that, asshole?” the guy growled.

Steve sighed and pointed to the sign behind the bar listing Corroded Coffin’s tour dates.

The guy whipped his head to look at the sign but before he could say anything else, Monty came up to the guy and quietly ushered him away, whispering furiously as the guy’s face paled.

The bartender shook his head. “These dudes never learn.”

Steve took a sip of his drink and set it down. “What’s that?”

“That the guys,” he pointed to the stage and Steve looked over his shoulder at the band kicking it on stage, he nodded, “don’t like it when fans try and gate keep. They can’t do jack shit at larger venues but place like this? They absolutely refuse to let that kind of shit go on.”

Steve looked over his shoulder just in time to catch Eddie winking at him. He blushed and turned bright red.

The bartender laughed before he moved on to take another order.

~

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[redrose10]

Chapter 10 is here! I thought I was going to be able to post this yesterday but here we are. Comments and messages are appreciated. Even if I don’t always respond I do read them all.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 1,922

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag list: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad

You and Yoongi both jumped up at Jimins revelation.

“What? How did they know we were here?”, you asked.

“I don’t know. Just don’t panic Y/N. I’ll handle it.”

“What’s going on?”, Jimin asked.

“A very long story but basically Suri’s brother Hwan assaulted me at the charity event and Yoongi punched him so I’m thinking this probably has something to do with that.”, you replied.

Jimin’s mouth dropped open, but before he could speak the bell rang through the apartment signaling someone was at the door and your stomach did a flip. Quickly you put your hand in Yoongi’s while Jimin answered the door. He came walking back with both Suri and Hwan and also the two police officers.

The older officer stepped forward handcuffs already out, “Mr.Min you’re going to have to come with us?”

“May I ask what this is about?”, he questioned.

“Mr. Min you are under arrest for the assault on Hwan Cho.”

The officer turned Yoongi around placing the cuffs on his wrists. You sprang forward, “No you don’t understand. Yoongi was saving me. Hwan was the one that assaulted me.”

The other officer stepped in, “Miss you can meet us down at the station. We’ll get a statement from you and we’ll go from there but since they got to us first Mr. Min needs to come with us right now.”

You continued to protest with tears forming in your eyes until Yoongi turned to look at you, “It’s going to be okay Y/N. Just call Jin and tell him to meet us at the police station.” You nodded watching as the two officers walked him out of the apartment with Hwan following close behind reveling in seeing his enemy in hand cuffs.

Jimin ran off with his phone to make some calls that he knew would be needed leaving you standing in the living room with Suri. She walked over until she was standing right in front of you. Her perfume smelled like a lighter more feminine version of Yoongi’s. It was heavier on the vanilla but it still made your throat burn.

She smirked while looking you up and down. “So I finally get to meet the famous Y/N in person. I don’t really know what Yoongi sees in you.”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m not going to fall for your mean girl tactics.”, you scoffed.

“I like that attitude. Maybe that’s what he sees. He has always had a thing for being dominated.”, she quipped.

She adjusted the buttons on her designer jacket before continuing, “Look I know a poor little orphan girl like yourself is used to being on the loosing side of life, but that’s not how I live. I ALWAYS get what I want. I want Yoongi and I don’t care what or who I have to ruin to achieve that. He will not just throw me away like yesterday’s trash. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Do you really think he’ll want to be with you if you release that tape and ruin his life? Or after having him arrested like this? If anything he’s just going to hate you even more.”

“Oh please. Yoongi will pay off the right people and he’ll be walking free before the morning. I only did this as a warning so he can see that I’m not going to easily back down this time.”She walked over to the front entrance grabbing a hold of the door handle before turning around to look at you.

“Also, who said that mix tape is the only thing I have that could ruin him? If he’s even half as smart as I think he is he’ll know better than to cut me out of his life.”

She turned and walked through the door letting it slam behind her. You stood staring at the spot she now left empty.

Jimin came running over to you handing you a jacket, “Come on Y/N, I already called Jin and he’s going to meet us at the station. We should get going.”

Unable to really form words you nodded and walked along with him to the parking garage.

Neither you nor Jimin spoke on the ride there. When you arrived Jin was already waiting by the entrance.

“They’re working on booking him in right now. Once that’s complete they said they’ll let me have some time with him.”

You reached out for his hands desperately trying to get your point across, “Jin he was only protecting me. That other guy was the aggressor, Hwan assaulted me. Yoongi didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jin nodded, “We’ll get this figured out Y/N. I’m gonna talk to Yoongi and then we’ll get a statement from you as well.”

You could feel tears starting to form again and you were so tired of crying.

“Hopefully Yoongi can just offer some money or something and that’ll get them to drop all the charges. That usually works anyways.”, Jimin said trying to comfort you. “Yeah I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out.”, Jin said opening the door for you and Jimin to walk into the station.

“Sit here. I’m going to go get an update.”, Jin said before walking into the back office. You and Jimin took a seat on one of the benches to wait.

After about twenty minutes Jin came walking over and smiled, “Okay Y/N, you can come back and see him for a little if you’d like.” You nodded and quickly jumped up following after Jin. He stopped and turned to you, “Yoongi is in the seventh room on the left. Head that way. I’m gonna stop in here and make a couple phone calls and I’ll be in shortly to talk to both of you.”

You nodded and began walking down the hall. While you were walking you kept your head looking to the left counting the doors to get to the seventh room so you didn’t notice the person coming out of one of the rooms on your right until you accidentally ran into them.

Stumbling backwards you started profusely apologizing, “Oh I am so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was go- Namjoon? What are you doing here?”

You heard some whispering followed by loud giggles. When you peaked around his broad shoulders you were surprised to see Suri and Hwan sitting at a table sipping some coffee in the same room that Namjoon had just walked out of.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I have to go.”, is all he said before walking off towards the exit barely even looking at you. Suri smirked when she noticed you standing there speechless and stunned.

When you were finally able to make your feet move you walked down to the room Yoongi was in. He looked tired and beat down and you felt bad for him. You walked over and wrapped your arms around him and he returned the gesture even though he was slightly taken back by your willingness to hug him like that.

“How are you doing?”, he whispered.

“Umm so I just ran into Namjoon in the hallway. He came out of the same room that Suri and Hwan are sitting in.”

Yoongi’s face instantly turned red, “I knew I never liked that fucking guy.” You tried to sooth him, “I don’t know what he’s up to but I’ll try to find out.”

Jin walked in and you quickly noticed his facial expression wasn’t as chipper as he normally is. After everyone took a seat he cleared his throat, “Alright so I’m sure we were all prepared for this but after some discussions the police officers are willing to “misplace the evidence” causing the charges to have to be dropped on behalf of the police department pending a cash payment of course.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Of course they are. Just ask them their price and let’s get it over with. I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

Jin looked apprehensive and began nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah I’ve already got it and it’s currently being taken care of by your accountant.”

“Okay so then why are we still here and why do you look so nervous then?”, Yoongi asked eyeing Jin.

Suddenly Jin pulled out his wallet, “I think it’s just because I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day and I can’t concentrate. Here is my card, Y/N will you be a dear and go grab us something to eat please? There’s a great bbq place about ten minutes away. Have Jimin drive you.”

You looked at him confused at his sudden request. “What the hell? Jin no. You’re not sending her out in the middle of the night to get you food.”, Yoongi said furiously.

Jin gave Yoongi pleading eyes begging him to play along for everyone’s sake. Jin turned to you and smiled, “Here Y/N take the card. Get whatever you want for yourself and Jimin too. I’ve heard the strawberry milk shakes are to die for.”

You looked over at Yoongi and he nodded gesturing towards Jin’s outstretched hand.

Hesitantly you took the card and walked out of the room to go find Jimin and get the requested food.

“What is going on Jin?”, Yoongi asked getting more and more irritated.

“It seems that Suri expected for all charges to get dropped so she came prepared with something even more detrimental. She just dropped a pretty big bombshell on me and I thought it was best for Y/N to not find out about this right now, at least not from me.”

Jin took in a deep breath his fingers slightly trembling as he flipped through some paperwork, “Suri has something about you that she’s threatening to release to the media. It could really ruin your business but it will definitely ruin whatever you have going with Y/N. She said she will make it public unless you agree to her terms which I don’t think you’re going to like.”

“Okay and what exactly are her terms then?”

“She wants Y/N to not file any charges against Hwan for assaulting her. I advised that I think that it is possible but I would ultimately leave that up to Y/N.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement, “Of course as it should be up to Y/N.”

“Suri is also requiring that you either allow her to move into your penthouse with you or that you purchase another penthouse and you live with her there. She also expects you to continue a relationship with her as you have been until recently.”

Yoongi scoffed, “She has officially lost her fucking mind. I am not doing that under any circumstance. At this point I’d rather just let her release the tape and be done with it.”

Jin sucked in a quick breath, “Yoongi this much much bigger than any lyrics in a mixtape.”

Jin slid the photo he had been holding onto over to the other side of the table, “She gave me this and said you’d probably want to see it.” Looking at the photo in front of him Yoongi felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, his breathing became rapid and no matter how hard he tried he felt like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen. The room began to spin as he looked around through blurry vision. He began shaking his head side to side mumbling, “No no no no…”

“Yoongi we need to get this sorted out immediately, especially if you want any chance of things to work out with Y/N.”, Jin said pointing to the sonogram lying on the table in front of them.

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 4

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, so many flashbacks, more awkwardness, more funerals, more drinking, more murder, some fluff and a sprinkle of smut too

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Life got a little busy, so I've been a bit absent recently, but I'm so happy and grateful you guys are enjoying this series so far! All your sweet comments really put a smile on my face during all the chaotic and exhausting times 🥹🤍

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 4: Rewind

A tequila hangover required copious amounts of coffee to battle the raging headache you felt. Your eyes stung when they met the blinding sun this morning, not even your darkest pair of shades bringing much relief.

Your whole body ached, a welcoming soreness between your weak and wobbly legs as you stalked inside the little bakery and coffee shop on Main Street USA. Beau had already scolded you for calling it that, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Helena’s sheriff then had sent you here for your morning coffee run, hoping this way you’d avoid the questioning and curious stares of Jenny and Cassie. Needless to say, you had never made it to Cassie’s place last night. Beau had been very convincing (and successful) in making you stay.

Hands, lips, teeth, and tongue – you clenched at the thought alone, cursing yourself for soaking through your fresh underwear. How good were your chances for a quickie during lunch break in his office if you promised to thoroughly lock his goddamn door this time?

“Y/N, hey.” Carla’s voice made you flinch and pulled you from your naughty reverie – about her ex-husband no less.

Had you mentioned how much you hated small towns?

“Hey, Carla,” you greeted her with a flushed smile, hoping you hid your blushed cheeks and fluster well. You definitely felt caught with your hand in the cookie jar, although it was thankfully impossible for her to read your mind.

Was there no safe place to quietly get coffee in this goddamn village?

“Listen, Y/N, again, I’m so sorry about yesterday,” she apologized and nervously fumbled with her coffee cup in her hands, her gaze focusing on her heels.

Carla was usually confidence personified. She was strong-willed, assertive, and dauntless – all the traits that made her a fierce and excellent lawyer and a force to be reckoned with in court. It was rare for her to lower her head, so you knew she must really be trying to make amends.

“No, don’t be. Like I said, we’re good,” you assured her and swallowed the lump of embarrassment down your throat. “I get it. I really do. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I never meant for any of this to happen, you know?”

You never had gotten a chance to say it before. You had always felt bad for the way the two of you had left things. Carla was by far not your closest friend, but the tight friendship between both your husbands and the nature of your jobs had forced you to spend time together occasionally. You’d meet at barbecues on the weekends, drinks after work, and life events like Emily’s middle school graduation. You never meant to betray her. You never meant to hurt her. And you never meant for your friendship to implode like it did.

“I know. It’s okay, really,” Carla said. “I already told Beau this yesterday, but I want him to be happy. That goes for you, too. I found my happiness after the divorce. At least for a while…”

Upon her sad look, you gave her a sympathetic smile. You knew she wasn’t married to Avery for long, but that didn’t matter. You understood better than anyone what it was like to lose someone you loved.

“Hey, if you ever need someone to talk, call me, okay? I feel like I owe you a whole pitcher of margaritas,” you offered with a chuckle.

She returned your kindness with a soft smile. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Well, if this ain’t interestingly awkward.”

Both you and Carla turned to Beau in surprise as he strolled through the doors of the coffee shop. Leave it to him to voice the uncomfortableness of the situation out loud.

“Hey, uhm… you,” you said with wide eyes and fist-bumped his arm. Obviously, you weren’t equipped to handle awkwardness very smoothly, either.

Beau sent you a tight-lipped smile that barely hid his amusement. “Do I need to pull out the sheriff’s badge here, or are you two good?”

“We’re good,” you assured him.

“Oh, relax, Beau,” Carla told him with an amused laugh and patted his shoulder in passing on her way out of the shop. “Don’t kid yourself. You could not handle either one of us, anyway.”

“Probably true,” Beau quipped in agreement as Carla waved you goodbye.

Beau waited till the door safely closed behind his ex before tilting his head at you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You really good?”

“No!” you exclaimed frustratedly.

Laughing, he slung his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his shirt, clasping it with your palms for good measure.

“Tomorrow I’m getting coffee in the next town over. I really hate small towns,” you grumbled.

“So, I’m guessin’ you’re not a big fan of staying after the case is over, huh?” he asked carefully and rubbed his beard.

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about it until now. But Beau clearly had as he nervously chewed his lower lip and waited for your answer.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “Well, uhm… Montana doesn’t have a field office. The next one’s in Utah, and I hate Utah.”

“Yeah, everyone does. It’s Utah,” Beau agreed jokingly. “Could always work here. Sheriff’s Department could use someone like you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, not gonna happen. You’re not gonna be the boss of me. That’ll have to stay a fantasy of yours.”

“Too bad. It was a good one,” he retorted with a cheeky smile and wiggled his eyebrows. Then, he became more serious. He scratched the nape of his neck in an anxious gesture. “But look, uhm, I was about to retire anyway, so I’m just putting that on the table, okay?”

“Alright, good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smiled softly up at him, thinking it was cute he wanted to follow you wherever you went. He’d never handled your relationship so open and secure before. In the past, everything always dangled in the air – his feelings, your future. Unlike the North Star, nothing was fixed.

You had always been a flag he’d never preferred to wave.

You let out a small sigh and pecked his lips. “But this case is far from over, so we’ve got time to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded, a bit more relieved at your answer. “Okay.”

August 2020

Beau rubbed his face clean as best as he could. His eyes were red and stung, his vision blurry as he stepped out of the church’s back room on shaky bow legs. He had to talk to you and make things right. He felt like he not only failed you but also his best friend. Again.

The funeral guests filtered out of the church one by one as he trudged down the red-carpeted aisle. Beau could feel their stares and judgments on him. He knew he looked like the biggest mess, his suit and tie in disarray, tousled hair, and bloodshot eyes. How many of them blamed him for his partner’s death?

“Dad?” Emily’s voice made his heart ache as his thirteen-year-old daughter looked at him with a mix of worry and disenchantment. He barely resembled the father she’d known all her life and held high on a pedestal.

“Emily, honey, go wait in the car,” Carla told her swiftly, taking immediate note of her husband’s disheveled status.

“But Mom–”

“Now, Emily,” Carla ordered more firmly and watched her daughter quietly leave the church.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Beau asked, trying his best to swallow any shame he felt down. He hated that his family had to see him like this. The disappointment and hurt were visible as clear as day in both their faces.

“You gotta be kidding me…” Carla scoffed in anger and disbelief, a part of her hardly grasping the current state of her husband. “Where the hell were you, Beau? Jesus, you reek! Have you been drinking?”

“I already went through this today, okay? I don’t need a replay,” he replied flatly, every part of him hating how she looked at him. “Have you seen Y/N or not?”

“Beau, what’s going on with you? Just talk to me, please,” Carla pleaded with him as the anger subsided, concern etched into her brow. “What happened during that shootout?”

Beau ran a hand over his face, his head spinning and his eyes burning. “I can’t do this right now. Just take Em home, okay?” he told her and pushed past her.

“Where are you going? Beau!” Carla called after him, but he stubbornly headed out the door to the parking lot.

Fortunately, you still hadn’t left, but what he was seeing didn’t put him more at ease. He watched as you put a clip into your gun, a duffel bag hurriedly packed with clothes lying in the trunk of your SUV.

You threw your black pumps carelessly into the backseat before slipping into a pair of worn jeans under your black dress, which you discarded next, leaving you momentarily in only a black satin bra. He averted his gaze and tried not to stare, even though you had your back turned to him, and he couldn’t see much anyway. Still, his heartbeat quickened as he approached you, while you pulled a white t-shirt over your head and tied your wavy hair into a ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, the feeling in the pit of his stomach and the determination in your eyes already giving him a good guess.

“What does it look like? I’m going after them,” you said sternly and tied the laces on your boots. “DEA is going down to Mexico in a couple of weeks. Cody’s leading a task force. I fought my way in. They wanna scope out some locations tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, just look at you! You’re not going after them alone in this state,” Beau snapped, throwing his arms up in utter incredulity. His gut ordered him to protect you no matter the cost. He owed as much to his dead partner to look out for you. It was a constant debt in his mind.

“My state?” You cocked an eyebrow and snorted caustically, shaking your head at him. “Have you fucking looked at yourself recently? Compared to you, I’m fine. And I also won’t be alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Beau gritted with anger in his eyes and worry in his heart. “We’re all fucking far from fine. You’re gonna get yourself killed like this!”

“I don’t have time for this right now,” you brushed him off with a roll of your eyes and slammed the trunk shut, hurrying to the driver’s side. But a rough grab of your arm stopped you in your tracks and made you spin and glare at Beau.

“Dammit, Y/N!”

Your features softened when you saw the desperation in his look. “I need to do this, Beau,” you insisted calmly and looked deeply into his watery eyes. Tears filled your gaze and threatened to choke you. “I want them to pay for what they’ve done to him. They can’t get away with it.”

His grip on your arm loosened before he let you go completely. He ran a palm over his face and carded it through his messy hair.

“Fine,” he barked resolutely, the despair replaced by determination. “But I’m coming with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

“What, so you can get me killed, too?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as the words rushed out and pinched the bridge of your nose. Immediate regret flooded your veins.

When you finally dared to glance at him, he looked hurt and averted his gaze to the burning asphalt below. He smacked his lips, head bobbing. It felt like you had just thrown an ax to his heart, whipped him, bludgeoned him with a baseball bat, and shot him in the knee – all at once.

“Beau, I’m so sorry.” You could see in his eyes that your apology already came too late. He was spiraling, blaming himself for Randy’s death. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it like that. I just-… It’s been a long day.”

“Nope, no, you’re right. Don’t apologize,” he rebuffed your efforts to patch the wound you’d opened with a dark chuckle. You felt like utter shit. “I let him down. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive, so…”

“Beau, don’t do this. He wouldn’t want you to. And neither do I for that matter…” You reached out and clasped his hand reassuringly. But it didn’t feel like it was enough, so you wrapped your arms around him, too, and pulled him into a hug.

Beau was frozen for a moment when he felt your body pressed flush against his before he wrapped his arms around you as well and held you tightly. Carefully, he rested his chin on top of your head, the scent of your shampoo winding its way to his nose. And for a mere second, he let go and allowed himself to be comforted, soothing warmth spreading throughout his body.

“I gotta go,” you said quietly as you released him. But Beau held onto your hand with his for a heartbeat before realizing the strangeness of his touch and withdrew his arm quickly with a clear of his throat, fingers ripping apart at the seams.

“Lemme come with you. Lemme help,” he stated.

“Beau, no offense, but you’re a mess,” you said with gentle honesty. “Can you even walk a straight line? Stand on one leg and touch the tip of your nose? Recite the alphabet backwards?”

He actually snorted at that, his lips forming a small smile. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’ll get better. Promise, okay? Just please… I need this, too.”

As you stared at him, you heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, get in,” you relented and gestured with your chin to the passenger’s side of your car. “But let’s hit a Denny’s first. Get some goddamn coffee and toast into you. Maybe a shower would help, too.”

Beau chuckled a little at that, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

February 2012

Randy groaned loudly as he passed Beau the football, letting his head fall back between his shoulder blades. “Ugh, I can’t believe the Captain agreed to give the case to the stupid FBI. It was our case, man. We almost had the guy!”

“Yeah, I know. But hey, we could still follow our own leads. Solve it before the feds do. What’s Harper gonna do?” Beau suggested with a cocky smirk.

“I don’t know. Suspend us? Fire us? Just to name a few,” Randy quipped sarcastically and threw his partner a raised look.

Beau scoffed playfully and rolled his eyes. “Always by the book. You’re no fun,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Well, I can still bash the feds who are stealing this case from us. It’s probably some dumb asshole in a suit and sunglasses,” Randy joked and laughed, not noticing Beau’s facial expression change as he lowered his gaze to the floor, lips pursing.

You cleared your throat behind the chuckling detective, causing him to turn around and blink up at you.

“Well, I’m an asshole. I can admit as much. Definitely not dumb, though. I hate suits, and I don’t wear sunglasses indoors. Only douchebags do that,” you quipped and sent him a complacent smile upon his wide-eyed stare. Then, you arched a brow at the guy. “And stealing, really? You guys haven’t made progress on the case for weeks. Probably because you keep playing football instead of working.”

“Whoa, hey!” Beau threw in, furrowing his brow. “It’s a brainstorming technique, okay?”

“Yeah, for dumbasses,” you retorted. “Did you already get a concussion? Would explain a few things, mainly how you screwed up this case so much. It’s not rocket science, boys.”

“Okay, listen, missy. We did not screw up this case. We have leads, alright?” Beau argued fervently and took a step closer to you, his shoulders tensing as he was only inches away from your face.

You had the urge to tiptoe just to keep up with him for a proper face-off. He was tall, gigantic really, and now you were left to glare more or less into his chest.

“Who? The buyer for the jeweler? It wasn’t him. I already checked him out,” you said dismissively and could tell by Beau’s frown that it indeed had been his only lead. You then glanced at his partner. “Is he gonna say something or just stare? It’s not helping to refute my concussion theory, you know?”

Beau knitted his brow and shot his partner a look. As soon as he realized what was going on, he rolled his eyes and sighed. His best friend was running hot for Agent Hostile. Granted, you did look very sexy with all that fire burning in your eyes.

“Ey, Randy!” Beau snapped his fingers in front of his partner and hauled him from his surely naughty daydream.

“Uhm… I’m Randy,” he told you, dumbfounded.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your mouth itched to smile in amusement. “Wow, okay… Does that come with a last name?”

Randy still gave you that same vacant and infatuated stare in his hazel eyes. “You can call me whatever you want.” He sent you an insecure smile with a halfway shrug.

“Oh, can I call you a moron?” you countered snappily.

Amused, Beau actually snorted into his shoulder as he dipped his head, but then decided to step in for his best friend. “Okay, c’mon, leave him be.”

“Look, just gimme the file, and I’ll be outta your hair,” you submitted your peace offering, which Beau accepted, handing you the folder.

“Uh… drinks?” Randy looked up at you hopefully, like a shelter puppy waiting to be adopted. You honestly found his fluster quite endearing.

“Is he asking me out?” you checked with Beau, a smile playing on your lips.

“I think so.” Beau chuckled and nodded. “Look, uh–”

“Y/N,” you provided, noticing him fumble for a name.

“Y/N,” he repeated with a warm smile that reached his green eyes. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here. We could help you with the case. We know it better than anyone. Could save you some work.”

You smirked slightly, recognizing what he was doing. First of all, he wanted in on the case, clearly having a hard time letting go. You knew the type all too well. Sometimes people in law enforcement behaved like bratty toddlers when it came to cases – they all hated sharing their toys, but you knew how to play nice. And secondly, Beau wanted to ensure you got to spend more time with his partner – the perfect wingman. He deserved a medal for his efforts.

You lifted a knowing eyebrow at him. “Didn’t your captain already say no?”

“But what d’you say, darlin’?” He shot you a mischievous grin.

“You’re a troublemaker,” you noted and received an acknowledging shrug in return. “Are you gonna behave, Ferris Bueller?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hand on my red-blooded and beating heart,” Beau promised charmingly and did as advertised, placing his palm on his chest like he was swearing a Boy Scout oath.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned and caved. “Fine. I’ll talk to your captain. You guys can come along, I guess.”

Beau handed you their card with their numbers on it before you disappeared out of the station again. Comfortingly, he patted his partner’s back as soon as you had left, Randy still staring after your goddamn shadow.

“I wanna marry her,” Randy sighed dreamily.

“Whoa… Moving way too fast here, buddy,” Beau tried to rein him in. “Maybe try speaking a straight sentence to her first.”

“I can’t. I’m in love with her. She’s the one.”

“She called you a moron,” Beau countered and crossed his arms over his chest, although he kind of understood where Randy was coming from. If he hadn’t been married, he would’ve given you his best shot as well.

“That only made me love her more,” Randy insisted.

Sighing theatrically, Beau rolled his eyes back. “Dear Lord, help me…”

Randy then went on a long tangent about everything he loved about you. The words he’d been missing when you were around suddenly spilled out of him. And while Beau acted annoyed, he smiled internally for his friend’s happiness. He’d never seen him before like this.

June 2013

“Oh God, I think I’m gonna puke,” Randy said and swallowed what felt like bile in his throat. With his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “Can you give me that trash can?”

Beau handed him the bin next to him with an amused chuckle. “Alright, but just remember – no matter what you do, don’t puke on the suit.”

Randy scowled at him, panic taking over as he nervously paced the fancy dressing room. “Not in the mood for jokes right now, man,” he huffed.

Beau laughed heartily and raised his hands in surrender. He got up from his seat on the small and uncomfortable sofa and patted his friend on the back, squeezing his shoulders encouragingly. “Okay, calm down. Everything will work out fine. Why are you so nervous anyway? Is this you having cold feet? Should I do somethin’? Start a getaway car?”

Taken aback by the suggestion, Randy’s brow furrowed, close to offended. “What? No! I love Y/N. I can’t wait to marry her,” he stated with absolute certainty. “I just-… I don’t wanna stand up there and, you know, look like a moron. I want today to be perfect for her.”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Alright, you won’t, okay? That’s what I’m here for. If you do somethin’ stupid up there, I’m gonna distract everyone with somethin’ stupider. That’s basically my duty as best man.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s gonna love that,” Randy quipped sarcastically and chuckled. But the lighthearted distraction didn’t last long before his nerves burned through him again. “You think I can make her happy?”

Beau smiled at him warmly. “The way she looks at you, you already are. Trust me.”

“Okay, good.” Randy nodded in relief. “‘Cause sometimes I really wonder how I got so lucky. I swear I didn’t speak in straight sentences for, like, the first three dates.”

“Oh, I remember.” Beau snorted.

“Man, were you this nervous, too, when you married Carla? I swear this is killing me,” Randy asked with his wildly beating heart in his throat. “I think I’m having a heart attack… Or a stroke. My head keeps spinning. Is that normal? Doesn’t feel normal…”

Beau hesitated for a moment before he nodded with a light swallow. “Yeah, sure. Everyone’s nervous,” he assured his partner, although the truth was a little different.

Carla was already pregnant when they tied the knot, so they did the right thing to appease their parents. But sometimes, Beau wished they would’ve waited. He could tell Carla did, too. They were both young. She had still been in law school, chasing her degree, and Beau had barely finished police academy and had still been working patrol.

Sure, he was nervous on his wedding day, but it wasn’t a puking-your-guts-out-and-jittering-to-your-bones kind of nervous. But Beau loved his family more than words could say and wouldn’t trade his daughter for anything.

“Hey, uh, can you ask Y/N about the marriage certificate? I’m supposed to give it to the officiant or something,” Randy said with a confused brow, scratching his sweaty neck.

“Yeah, of course. Be right back,” Beau replied with a saluting gesture and strutted to the door, encouragingly patting Randy’s shoulder once more on the way out. “Try not to soil yourself,” he teased, chuckling.

Beau then strolled down the lavish hallway of the five-star hotel and stopped in front of your dressing room door. He knocked twice and heard a “Come in!” bounce through. But when he opened the door and peeked his head carefully inside, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

“Wow… uh…” Beau’s forest-green eyes went wide as he blinked at you. He was rendered completely speechless. How did he turn into Randy so quickly?

As you sat in front of your vanity, you glanced at him over your naked shoulder before you stood up and greeted him with a bright smile.

Your white dress hugged your curves perfectly, strapless but with a bit of cleavage, giving a perfect view of your clavicle and shoulder blades. It wasn’t one of those puffy princess dresses. It was smooth, uncomplicated, and delicate just like you.

You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” Beau repeated and felt like a moron. He cleared his throat to haul himself out of his shameless staring and tried to recover his composure. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You beamed with blushed cheeks. “You think Randy’s gonna like it?”

Beau smiled kindly, unable to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah, he’s gonna love it. It’s gonna make him even more nervous,” he replied, chuckling.

But your brow creased in concern, your lips parting. “He’s nervous?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Beau swiftly brushed your concerns away, “He’s nervous in a good way. No cold feet or anythin’ like it. He might just pass out and puke at the altar when you walk out. That’s all. Maybe some stuttering, too.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “That’s all, huh?” you teased. “Kinda like when we first met then,” you remembered fondly. “Or our first three dates, too, I guess.”

Musingly, Beau pursed his lips, his head bobbing in thought. “Hey, uh, can I just ask… Why did you keep going out with him? I mean, like you said he didn’t really speak for the first three dates. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good-looking guy, but, you know, you’re, well… you.”

You snorted lightly and cast your gaze down as your cheeks flushed even deeper red. “Thank you, I guess? But, uhm, to answer your question – I kinda liked that he was so flustered. It was endearingly sweet,” you replied and smiled to yourself at the memory. “‘Sides, every time he did say something, it was oddly complimenting. He’s also the only guy who ever bought me flowers after our first night together. It came with an extensive ‘thank you’ card.”

“Oh, Randy, you sweet little idiot…” Beau sighed affectionately.

“He never told you that?” you asked curiously.

“Ha, no. For obvious reasons.” Beau laughed. “But hey, it’s great material for my best man speech later.”

“Oh God,” you groaned playfully and laughed. “Just so you know, though, I’m gonna cut you off after fifteen minutes.”

Beau threw his head back, laughing loudly. “Alright, I hear ya. Your loss, though.”

You watched him for a moment when your laughs quieted down. He scratched his bearded chin, gazing down at his feet and making no efforts to move.

“Beau?”

“Hm?” His eyes found your arched eyebrow.

“Did you come here for a reason or just to chitchat?” you asked with curious amusement. He seemed obviously lost.

“Oh, uh, right! I’m supposed to ask you about the marriage certificate and the officiant thingy,” he remembered.

You smiled. “Tell Randy it’s already taken care of. He doesn’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll-, uhm, I’ll do that,” Beau said and awkwardly cleared his throat, walking to the door.

“Oh, and Beau?” He spun on his heel when you called his name. “Make sure Randy doesn’t puke on his suit.”

An amused smile shaped on his lips at that, and he nodded. “Oh, I’m on it. Trust me.”

When Beau left your room and wandered down the hallway again, a weird sting plagued his heart. Deciding it was a feeling he didn’t particularly care for, he pushed it deep down, not even admitting his true thoughts to himself under duress and torture.

He’d feel like an ass if he ever did.

Beau looked up from his files on his desk when a knock ripped him from his reverie. It was already getting dark outside, the sun setting behind the mountains. He smiled up at you from his chair when you peeked your head inside.

“Hey, Jenny and I are back from the crime scene,” you informed him as you stepped inside his office, closing the door behind you.

“And?”

“It’s definitely the woman from the video,” you confirmed sadly.

“We got a name yet?” Beau asked, his face stern, concern and compassion carved into every crease.

“Yeah, Addison Hughes. Husband reported her missing four days ago in Jefferson County. I already talked to the sheriff there. They’re handing us over the case,” you told him and noticed his suspiciously cocked brow.

“Uh-oh, I know what that means,” he quipped teasingly. “Were you nice?”

You gasped in mock-disbelief at his accusation. “What d’you mean? I’m always nice.”

Beau snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh, that means no…”

“Wha-… Anyways,” you continued with a clear of your throat and a playful little glare at him, “Jenny and I talked to Mr. Hughes afterwards. He didn’t wanna admit that he cheated at first, but Jenny and I kinda went in on him till he fessed up.”

“Poor fella…” Beau muttered under his breath.

“Hm? What?”

“Nothin’. I said nothing.” He shook his head and gave you an innocent smile, but it didn’t stop your eyes from narrowing at him.

“Careful,” you warned and ambled over to his side of the desk. He pushed his chair back, making room for you between his thighs. “You don’t wanna defend a cheater. He got his wife killed. I have little sympathy for that.”

“Well, he’s definitely an ass for cheating, but even you gotta admit he didn’t really kill her. That’s still on the psycho running around out there,” Beau argued, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. You involuntarily clenched when his face was in front of your crotch.

“Fine,” you conceded with a roll of your eyes, sliding your hands up his arms till they locked around his neck.

“‘Sides, I kinda get how quickly a mistake can happen, you know?” he said thoughtfully.

You arched your brow. “Do you mean me with that?”

Beau’s eyes widened, immediately shaking his head. “What, no! I mean, yeah, a little,” he stammered. Your frown deepened. “Not like that, obviously. Just remembered some stuff today… But we never cheated. I know that.”

“Do you?” you questioned rhetorically.

“I do,” he assured you and took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you. “Just sometimes feels like I betrayed him, you know?”

“I know. I get that. But you did nothing wrong, okay? You did not seduce me and steal me away from him, nor did you take advantage of me when I was a vulnerable and grieving widow. I’m a grown-ass woman. I make my own choices. And I chose you like you chose me. After Randy’s death and all those months in Mexico, I fell in love with you, too.”

A coy smile clawed at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you confirmed, your smiles matching.

He then pulled you onto his lap and claimed your lips in deep passion. You straddled his thighs and rocked against him, feeling the blooming erection in his jeans rub against your clothed cunt.

You unbuckled his belt and opened the zipper, Beau pushing down his jeans over his ass a little. Supporting one palm on his shoulder, your other hand climbed inside his boxers and grasped his dick. You thumbed his head and dribbled a few drops of spit down on his cock before moving your hand down his shaft, spreading it like lube on his velvety skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the backrest. With hooded eyes drunk with lust, one hand snaked under your shirt and pulled down the cup of your bra, palming and massaging your breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your moan of pleasure was his reward as you pumped him with a tightening grip.

Both of you jerked up, however, as the door to his office suddenly flung wide open. Beau and you froze in your place, your fingers still wrapped around his cock, but luckily, neither of you was fully naked and your back hid most of the explicits. To your visitor, it just looked like an intense and very heated make-out session.

As you peeled your gaze over your shoulder, you recognized a woman in her mid-thirties who covered her eyes and quickly retreated through the door.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I’ll wait outside,” she excused and shut the door behind her again.

Beau gaped at you, green eyes wide in disbelief. “Y/N, did you not lock the door?”

You clasped your mouth with both hands, shaking your head with pupils as blown wide as his. “No, I thought everyone had already left when I came in here.”

“That’s the second time in three days,” he reminded you scoldingly. “Three days, Y/N! Twice!”

“I know! I’m sorry,” you whispered apologetically, still in shock, but a laugh of amusement escaped your throat. “Who was that lady?”

“I don’t know.” Beau’s brow furrowed in the same questioning manner as yours.

The two of you then sorted yourselves quickly, pulling pants back on and smoothing out shirts. You then stepped outside the office, where your female visitor was still waiting in the hallway.

“Uh, so sorry for that little, uhm…” Beau stopped mid-sentence, clueless on how to proceed and describe the scene while still sounding professional. “Anyways, how can I help you, darlin’?”

You threw him a small sideways glare at that and crossed your arms over your chest, Beau giving you one of his charming “can’t be helped” shrugs. Did he have to put so much flirt into it?

“Oh, uh, I apologize. I should’ve knocked,” the woman replied with a keen giggle, her cheeks blushing in fluster. She cleared her throat and regained her composure, introducing herself. “My name is Diane Newton. I’m the new DA for the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department. I got assigned the serial killer case and wanted to look through your files on it. See what you’ve got so far.”

“Oh, uhm, sure,” Beau spluttered and swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind jumping back into work mode. Of course, it had to be the new prosecutor to find him with his pants down in his office. What a great first impression.

“Hi, uh, Sheriff Beau Arlen. Nice to meet you,” he said and reached out his hand for a shake. He then glanced at you. “This is actually Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s leading that case,” he introduced you before he nervously chuckled. “She’s, uh, my girlfriend. That’s why we, uhm… Wouldn’t want you to think that we-… I do this all the time.”

“No worries and no judgment here,” she said and waved off his concerns. “What you do after hours is completely your business.”

“Well, uhm, how about I show you the files now?” you offered and ushered her to your desk in the main room of the station.

“Oh, that’d be great!”

You threw Beau a wide-eyed look over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, mouthing “Why would you say that?” with a chiding shake of your head.

Beau only twitched his shoulders in a comical apology like a cartoon character and swiftly disappeared back into his office.

Diane stayed for two more hours before finally leaving. You went over every victim in Montana with her, not sparing any excruciating details, and told her a little about the other victims in the other states as well. By the end, you were exhausted and almost fell asleep at your desk, your head resting on the pile of files with closed eyes.

Just a few minutes…

“C’mon, let’s go home. You’re tapped out,” you heard Beau’s deep voice and soon felt his grasp around your arm, hoisting you gently to your feet.

You slung your arms around his neck and tiredly rested your head on his warm, broad chest, listening to his heartbeat underneath. He’d always been the best pillow. “Mmm, I don’t have a home here,” you murmured sleepily.

“Well, you know what they say, home is where the heart is, and I’m going back to my trailer, so…” He shrugged and grinned down at you.

“You’re such a dork,” you quipped. As you looked up at him, you bit your bottom lip. “You introduced me as your girlfriend earlier.”

He licked his smirking lips. “Well, you are my girlfriend.” His brow then creased momentarily. His insecurity was somewhat cute, you thought. “Right?”

You beamed and nodded, giggling. “Yes,” you confirmed and tiptoed up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips to seal it.

“How about before we go home, we finish what we started in my office,” he suggested cheekily and added, “I’ll even teach you how to lock a damn door.”

You snorted a small laugh and gave him another gentle kiss, this one lasting a bit longer and swinging with promise. “Alright. Teach me, Sheriff,” you agreed and smoothed your palms up his chest, smirking up at him.

“Oh, this just took a turn. Now, I know what I’m gonna do with you.” He chuckled wickedly and scooped you up in his arms, bolting down the hallway to his office as you squealed and giggled.

Chapter 5: Illicit Affairs – MAY 29

Will they ever learn? Probably not... 😆 We've had some juicy flashbacks these week... Past scenes that include Randy always make me sad 😭

More murder stuff and flashbacks next week! See ya 🫶

(Also I've been a bit slow with comments these days. It's been crazy busy life things, but I hope I can catch up with everything this weekend 🤍)

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Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[natashaslesbian]

Scarlett and her daughter are going out to eat, having a great time until the paparazzi show up. Scarlett is protecting her daughter who is panicking

Paparazzi

Word Count:

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“You ready to get going kiddo?” Scarlett called as you came down the stairs “yes mommy” you said. Today was Wednesday, meaning it was your special afternoon with mommy. Scarlett always made sure she had Wednesday afternoons free so she could collect you from school and take you out to do something special. Today you’re going for ice cream, a treat after receiving your most recent school report. Your mom always knew you were a smart kid and at only 8 years old you were top of the class, Scarlett was so proud of you. “Let’s get going then baby” your mom said as she took hold of your hand and lead you to the car.

The whole journey you thought of what ice cream flavour you were going to have and what toppings would go with it. You were unaware of the car trailing behind you and didn’t even notice when Scarlett took a few wrong turns in order to get rid of them. “Are we there yet mommy?” You asked from the backseat, the long ride making you fidgety “almost sweetie, just a few more minutes” Scarlett said, eyeing her wing mirrors to check she wasn’t being followed and sighing a breath of relieve after realising she wasn’t.

You were thrilled when you finally arrived, allowing your mom to help you out of the car and walk with you to the small ice cream shop. You were sat at a small two seat table in the corner next to the window after Scarlett had ordered both your desserts. You spoke about all kinds of thing with your mama, you told her all about your week at school and your new best friend Chelsey. Scarlett told you all about her week at work, on Monday she had been at the outset office and yesterday she was filming for a new movie.

The time slipped away as you enjoyed your bubblegum ice cream and rainbow sprinkles. An hour had soon raced past and Scarlett decided it was about time you headed home. When you stepped out in the street a gentlemen on the other side of the street had his eyes glued on you “come on sweetie let’s take a little walk back to the car” Scarlett said, leading you in the opposite direction and away from the man. When you turned the corner with your mother a large group of people came running towards you. “There she is!” Someone called “it’s Scarlett Johansson!” Another shouted.

“Mommy” you whined as you grabbed hold of Scarlett’s arm “it’s okay baby come here” she said as she lifted you up in her arms. “Scarlett can you tell us anything about the new movie?” A pap asked demandingly, the crowd around you both closing in quickly. “Scarlett how old is y/n now?” Another woman asked. You hurried your face into Scarlett’s neck and wrapped your arms tightly around her “mama” you cried. Scarlett pulled you as close as she possibly could into her body, gently kissing your forehead.

Soon you made it to the car park, followed closely by the large group of flashing cameras. Scarlett was trying her best to just ignore all the people, her sole focus was getting you away from them. Now next to the car, your mom propped you down beside her to find her keys. “Scarlett this way!” A man shouted as he pushed through the crowds colliding with you in the process and knocking you to the floor. “Hey!” Scarlett screamed as she came to pick you up “get the fuck away from my daughter!” She yelled, the man backing up slightly.

Scarlett helped you into the car before shutting the door “you lot are sick!” She screamed at the crowd “I know I chose this life but my daughter did not! You dare touch her again and I will shove that camera where the sun won’t shine” your mom angrily said, a few members of the pap has already given up and backed away, off to find their next target. “Lighten up Scarlett this is our job” the smug man said “and my job is to protect my daughter, you publish any pictures of her and I swear you’ll be behind bares before you know it! Get lost!” Scarlett screamed, taking a step towards the gathering of people.

It seemed people didn’t expect her to get so angry and many of the paps moved away quickly. The rest stood in shock, fearing the wrath of Johansson. “Don’t make me tell you again” Scarlett said, causing the rest of the group to scuttle away. Your mom opened the car door and climbed in next to you “I’m so sorry baby girl are you alright? They’ve gone now I promise” Scarlett cooed as she pulled you into her lap. “Don’t like it” you sniffled “y/n sweetie I’m so sorry, this is all my fault I should’ve known the paps would come and find me” Scarlett said as she held you close. “Not your fault mommy” you said as you reached up to wipe away a stray tear falling down your moms cheek.

Scarlett gently brushed a hair away from your face “I promise I’ll always keep you safe baby girl, as long as I’m here no one will ever hurt you” your mama said as she slowly rocked you “I know mommy” you smiled up at Scarlett “I’m alright” you said. Scarlett smiled back at you “my brave girl” she said “shall we go home and have a snuggle?” She asked. “Yes please” you cheered.

————

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[therhythmafterthesummer]

Herbie (M) ~Bang Chan | 02

Pairing: Mechanic!Chan x F.Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Friends to Lovers (kind of) Word Count: ~5k | AO3 Synopsis: As it turned out, your hot mechanic friend also had a crush on you. After rocking your world in his repair shop’s office, you wake up the next day on his bed in his clothes, ready to spend a lazy morning together. [This is a second and final part to Herbie]. Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · pet names · this is like super domestic · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: does it count as friends to lovers if they already fucked and were planning to go on a date???? i honestly don’t know lol. but anyway, i felt like writing the morning after the events of Herbie, so here we are ! i think i’ve gotten all the wiggles out with this one, so for now i hope this remains as a two shot~

Smut Warnings: oral [F.Rec] · nipple play · protected penetration (piv) · honestly there’s hardly anything to warn about this is all so soft

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

You could feel movement all around, you could hear movement all around. The gentle rustle of fabric, soft tapping sounds on the tiles, the flow of water… You weren’t really sure if you were fully awake and actually noticing these things, or if you were still dreaming. All you knew for sure was that the pillow under your head, the one between your thighs, and the duvet over your frame were incredibly soft and comfortable.

After a long while, you felt movement again, and then you felt warmth. 

The gentle feeling of plush lips on your forehead brought your senses back to the land of the living, and, in a second, you remembered. Herbie had died on you, Chris had saved you once again, he’d made you feel loved and wanted and cared for in just a few hours, he’d brought you to his place and talked with you until you both were too tired to keep your eyes open, he’d given you one of his t-shirts to wear to bed, and right now, he’d just kissed your forehead and he was pulling away.

“Where you going…?” You mumbled, blindly reaching for him.

Chris chuckled, leaning in and pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I have to walk Wolfgang. I’ll be back in no time, you continue sleeping. Hm?”

A pout made its way onto your lips, but you hummed in agreement anyway, because there was no way you’d stop him from taking Wolfgang on a walk. Wolfgang deserved all the walks.

With one more kiss to your forehead and a ‘be right back, beautiful’, Chris left the room, and after a few minutes you heard the front door open and close behind him. You changed positions, laying on your other side–taking special care to move the pillow between your legs with you, because there was nothing more comfortable when you had big thighs than having a pillow between your legs when you laid on your side.

As you laid there, only half awake, your brain started recounting the events of the night. You’d been at Chris’ place a couple of times throughout the past handful of months, but never this late, and never this long. You’d always been comfortable with him, but yesterday, sitting face to face on his sofa, with Wolfgang napping on the floor right by your feet was just something else.

It was nice to be able to talk so freely with him, even more than you were already doing before. The topics ranged from what you were going to do with Herbie, to commenting on whichever show you both had been watching these days, and even to heartfelt confessions.

‘Always knew I was attracted to you, but I’m gonna be fully honest, the moment you kept talking to me after our two hour video call where all I did was ramble about Pokémon, I knew there was no going back for me’, Chris had told you, and you had simply laughed, telling him how oddly specific that was, to which he also laughed and offered a ‘you’re laughing, but I’ve seriously had people ghost me after something like that. Some just don’t get it!’

You clearly fell asleep again, because the next thing you registered was Chris slinging an arm over your waist and pulling you back to his chest. You vaguely registered the ‘welcome back, baby’ that came out of your mouth, just like you vaguely registered Chris’ lips on your neck, pressing soft kisses on your skin while he mumbled a ‘thank you, pretty’.

You laid there in Chris’ arms for a while, until he started to snore and you started to feel like you really needed to go to the bathroom. Chris was holding on tight to you, so you had a bit of difficulty pulling yourself away from his embrace. He seemed to barely even register it, his snoring remained steady as you walked past a sleeping Wolfgang, out of the room, and into the bathroom.

After relieving yourself and splashing a bit of water on your face, you cringed a bit at the fact that you couldn’t apply your moisturiser, but as you looked at the brand new toothbrush Chris had given you last night, sitting right next to his in a cup on the sink, you figured it was a small price to pay for being here. You looked at yourself in the mirror, admittedly smiling a bit like a fool as you remembered the events of the night again. Sigh, I’m down bad, bad, huh? was all you could think while a small giggle passed your lips.

With a fresh face, an empty bladder, and a minty mouth, you finally made your way back to Chris’ room, yawning and stretching a bit before you finally tucked yourself back under the covers to find a pouty Chris looking at you with only one eye open. You just smiled at him and gave him a quick peck before you snuggled closer, tucking your head under his chin.

Chris hummed, bringing an arm under your neck to curl around your shoulders, just as he took a hold of your thigh to hoist it over his hip and push a leg between yours, essentially tangling your limbs together so you could be as close as possible. Even if it was just a simple gesture, your heart was racing, feeling just so incredibly full.

“Would it scare you off if I told you I like waking up with you on my bed?” Chris mumbled against your hair, leisurely dragging his hand up and down your bare thigh as he spoke.

“It takes a lot to scare me off”, you chuckled, giving in to the urge of attaching your lips to his collarbone. How could you not kiss him there when he was shirtless and his skin looked just so incredibly kissable? And even more so when the gentle morning light filtering through the drapes was enough for you to see his skin flush with each peck of your lips.

After a few moments of you just kissing Chris’ collarbones, his chest, his neck, you felt the warmth of his hand leave your thigh, only to appear again on your chin. He tilted your head up a bit to get you to look at him. There was such a sincere smile on his lips, you just weren’t sure where to focus, on that smile, on his brown eyes, or on the barely perceptible freckles under them. You just couldn’t help the heat that spread over your face at the sight.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, you know?” Chris leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And cute”, another one on your cheek bone. “Pretty”, and another on the tip of your nose.

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, just with his words and his gentle kisses you could feel minute shivers running up and down your spine and the fine hairs on your arms stand on end. Before you could even say anything, Chris was kissing you, slowly, tenderly savouring you. He returned his hand to your thigh, squeezing all the way up, holding you tight against him as he finally reached your bum to sneak his fingers under your underwear so he could grab a proper handful, eliciting the tiniest moan to fly past your lips and get lost in his mouth.

You brought your hands to his head to card your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as you went, and, with a groan, Chris moved, gently pushing you onto your back as he laid on top of you, not stopping the movements of his lips against yours for a second.

With a hand still tangled in his hair, barely pulling the strands, and the other roaming his back, you just let yourself enjoy the feel of him pressed against you. His warm skin under your hands, his weight on you, his lips on you, there was honestly nothing else on your mind other than Chris and his warmth.

Finally detaching himself from your mouth, Chris trailed kisses all the way to your neck, where he settled to suck and nibble on your skin, making you squirm and whine softly. One of his fingers twisted on the side of your underwear as he continued his motions on your neck, seemingly in no hurry to take the garment off at all, almost like he was doing it just to keep his fingers busy, or even to tease you a bit–if that were the case, it was certainly working.

Trailing all the way back up your throat, his mouth found yours again, and he kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as soon as you parted your lips for him. He was wearing only his boxers, so you could feel him already hard against you. That, coupled with his kisses, with his hold on you, had wetness pooling at your core, all combined had lewd noises escaping your mouth.

When Chris finally untwisted his fingers from your underwear, he propped himself on one elbow for leverage, moving his hand up from where it’d been pressed against your hip, slowly dragging it all the way up to your ribs, bringing the hem of the tee you were wearing with it, encouraging goosebumps to raise on your skin with the soft movement.

“Mind if I take this off?” Chris mumbled against your lips, pressing a brief kiss on your lips for good measure.

You just shook your head, giving him the go-ahead. If he didn’t get you naked now you were sure you’d combust, you never thought you’d ever needed anyone in your life quite like you were needing Chris at this very moment.

Chris shuffled a bit, moving to kneel between your legs just as he took a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, carefully pulling it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your knickers.

“Fuck…” You could see his eyes jump all over you, taking in the sight of your bare chest, and it occurred to you then that he hadn’t seen your full naked body last night. He might’ve ravished your cunt like a starved man, but that didn’t seem to stop him from blushing at the sight of your bare breasts. “Look at these…”

Cupping your tits, Chris squeezed them gently, kneaded them, just overall felt them in his hands, warming you up, and you couldn’t help but flush. 

“Thought you were an ass guy”.

Chris’ eyes snapped back up to yours, and he laughed, but the movement of his hands didn’t stop. “Baby, I’m an everything guy. Fuck, wish I had more hands. Wanna touch you everywhere”.

His comment made you laugh, too, but the sound quickly caught in your throat as soon as his thumbs dragged over your nipples.

He did it again, with a bit more pressure this time. The action had heat creeping on your face, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to contain the obscene sounds that were threatening to come out of your mouth. Chris, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted.

“You’re sensitive here, too, huh?” He had a smirk plastered on his face, and whichever thought that was crossing your mind completely flew out the window the second he started to roll your nipples between his fingers, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, just enough to make you close your eyes and your thighs twitch. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty noises I know you can make. Hm?”

You didn’t think you could flush any further, but here you were, feeling heat everywhere. On your face, your neck, between your legs… And the feeling seemed to intensify the further he worked your chest, the further you let quiet noises slip out of your lips as you barely held his gaze.

“Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Want… Want your mouth”.

As soon as you said the words, Chris dived, gently sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You simply moaned, threading your fingers through his hair once again to further push him against your chest. With his mouth on one nipple and his fingers on the other, his motions had sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, shooting straight to your now aching core.

Chris focused on your chest for a while, shifting his mouth from one nipple to the other occasionally to provide equal attention, mumbling mindless words of praise in between, ‘gorgeous tits… So soft here, huh…? Wanna kiss you all over…’ effectively driving you up the wall. You yourself could hear the desperation in your voice whenever you moaned or whined or whimpered under his tongue, and it was right when you were close to begging for more that he finally detached his mouth from your chest entirely, swearing under his breath.

In one swift movement he’d yanked your underwear off, pushed your legs apart, and found his way between your thighs, attaching his mouth to your clit and sucking on it. The movement was so sudden you just couldn’t contain your sounds of delight, what started as a moan ended as an incredulous laugh that Chris matched immediately, the rumble of his laugh enhancing the tingles of pleasure that extended to all your limbs. He removed his mouth from your heat only long enough to shift his weight so he could lay comfortably on his stomach, take a hold of the back of your thighs, and push them towards your chest to get better access to your centre.

As soon as his mouth resumed its motions between your legs you sighed, melting completely under the gentle nudges of his tongue.

After bringing one of your thighs over his shoulder, Chris blindly reached for your hand. As soon as he found his target, he took a hold of your hand and brought it to his head, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you dragged your fingertips over his scalp.

“So you… Like it when I play with your hair?”

Chris just hummed in response, with a hint of a smile in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, sucking a tad bit harder on your clit to make his point. You just laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because it was the only way your body knew how to express the feelings coursing through you right now. And when you tugged on his hair, he just buried himself deeper, closing his eyes and humming once again, a sound of unadulterated satisfaction that had fire burning deep inside of you.

He was moving just so leisurely, like he had all the time in the world to be just here, right between your legs, a complete contrast to how borderline desperate he’d been last night. Every time he opened his eyes and looked at you, you could barely even hold his gaze, the slow but precise licks and sucks and kisses had your head swimming, had you quietly moaning and whimpering as you got lost in the stars twinkling in his eyes.

Much like yesterday, he looked at you with want, need, hunger, but in a different way. A softer, gentler way that somehow also had your toes curling, had you throwing your head back in glee, and had your heart growing ten sizes in your chest.

Detaching his lips from you briefly, Chris got a finger in his mouth, thoroughly coating it in his saliva to then bring it to your entrance, pushing it in to lightly massage your sweet spot as the hand he had on the thigh over his shoulder kept squeezing your flesh.

You could feel your legs start to tremble as he added more fingers, as he increased his speed, stuffing you full of three of his digits while his hand moved up your thigh to rest on your lower belly, kneading and gripping the soft skin in tandem with his mouth on your clit and his fingers in your cunt, and you honestly were starting to think you’d died and gone to heaven. 

You genuinely weren’t sure how long Chris spent working you up, touching you, kissing you, fucking you open with his fingers, kneading your soft flesh with his hand. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or even hours, but neither of you seemed to mind or care at all; all you cared about was the feel of him between your legs, the smell of his shampoo on the pillow below your head, his hair between your fingers, and how incredibly close he was getting you to your impending release.

Nothing had ever tasted sweeter than Chris’ name on your tongue once he finally pushed you over the edge, nothing had ever felt as satisfying as the way he softly sucked and licked at your clit to drag the very last wave of pleasure he could out of you. Your body slumped when you started to come down from your high, and your legs twitched a bit when he placed one final kiss on your clit and removed his fingers from your still sensitive walls.

Chris kissed his way up your body, lightly sucking on your skin as he went until his mouth found yours, leaving you breathless with the passion of his kiss and the slow grind of his hips against your core, surely getting his underwear drenched in your juices as he continuously dragged the outline of his erection over your folds. He didn’t seem to mind or care at all, in fact, he seemed to be just completely lost in the feel of you under him, in the feel of your tongue against his own, and the feel of your fingers gently running down his back.

“Baby…” You mumbled, resting one of your hands on his shoulder and the other on his round bottom. “Baby, need to breathe”.

Chris chuckled, pulling his mouth from yours to repeatedly kiss your cheeks, finally stopping the movement of his hips between your legs, but keeping himself flush to your body. “Sorry”.

“No, you’re not”, you laughed, still slightly breathless, but you hugged him tight anyway.

“No, I’m not”, Chris gave you a cheeky smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself, and, honestly, while you still felt pleasure coursing through your body from your orgasm, you just couldn’t find it in you to pretend to be mad at him.

Pulling himself off of you fully to give you a breather, Chris got rid of his underwear, and you propped yourself on your elbows to just look at him in all his glory, broad, strong, naked… 

“You’re unfairly handsome, you now?”

Chris giggled, a pink tint coloured his cheeks, and he shook his head side to side while he found his way between your legs once again, kneeling on the bed, sitting back on his heels and looking down at you with an incredibly fascinating mix of endearment and lust swimming in his eyes. Scooting as close to you as he could, he placed a hand on your thigh just as he brought the other close to his mouth to spit on it. After spreading his saliva all over his shaft, he finally closed his fist around his length to leisurely stroke himself.

“I wholeheartedly believe you’re the pretty one in this relationship”.

A teasing smile spread on your face, and you quirked a brow at him, ignoring any possible self-deprecating comment your brain immediately came up with at that moment, choosing instead to focus on holding back the laugh that was threatening to come out of your mouth. “Oh? So we’re in a relationship?”

“If you want to be”, Chris tightened his hold on your thigh, but kept the movement of the hand working his cock the same slow, steady pace.

“Do you?”

“I do”, Chris answered in a heartbeat, giving you a genuine smile, an adorable smile that made his eyes disappear and his dimples show on his cheeks, and you were sure your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

You replied confidently anyway, because if there was one thing that Chris made you feel was confident, and fearless. “I do, too”.

Chris was about to say something, but whatever it was died on his tongue, replaced with a groan when Wolfgang suddenly jumped on the bed and found his way towards you, sniffing you and attempting to lick your cheeks, making you laugh while you tried to pull away.

Chris let go of his cock immediately, taking a hold of Wolfgang’s collar to keep him from jumping on you and crushing you. “Dude, this is quite possibly the worst moment for you to show affection. Go away”.

Wolfgang, however, took this as a sign to start playing, shifting his attention from you to Chris in a heartbeat and trying to jump on his shoulders, hitting your leg with his wagging tail in the process. “Dude!”

You honestly couldn’t stop laughing.

“Come here, you giant twit”, Chris scooped Wolfgang into his arms. With admittedly a bit of difficulty since his dog kept trying to play while Chris held him, he got out of bed and left the bedroom entirely. You could hear Wolfgang’s tail hitting the walls as they went, just like you could hear Chris lecturing him. ‘You can’t do this to me. You gotta understand the act of making puppies is very, very sacred. Think of the bro code, dude. You can’t just interrupt and jump on my girl like that!’

Your laughs turned to soft chuckles, and you reached for your eyes to wipe the tears that had collected at the corners. Shuffling could be heard in the living room, and then you heard running water.

After a moment, Chris came back into the room, huffing in annoyance, and ruffling his hair. The sight of his length half hard and bobbing between his legs with every step was oddly amusing to you.

“What’d you do?” You asked as soon as Chris was back into your arms and nestled between your legs so he could kiss you.

“Gave him a scolding and a Kong filled with treats to entertain himself”, he mumbled between kisses, propping himself on an elbow.

The cold feeling of his still slightly moist hand dragging down your side made you shiver.

“Don’t scold Wolfgang. He’s a good boy, he just wants to play”, you chuckled, speaking between kisses.

“What about me?” Chris pulled himself away from your hold, reaching for his nightstand. “I wanna play, too, but I can’t if he’s here”.

“Got performance anxiety?” You watched Chris rummage the first drawer of his nightstand, where he clearly didn’t find what he was looking for.

Chris chuckled, opening the second drawer and rummaging the contents there, too. “Why? Wanna get fucked with an audience? Can’t give you that, babe. I want you all to myself”.

He finally found what he was looking for, a condom, which he immediately opened and rolled over his once again fully hard length. “Besides, doesn’t it unsettle you a bit to have Wolfgang specifically watch us have sex?”

“Only if he tries to get involved”, you chuckled.

“Freaky, huh?”

You licked your lips when Chris got comfortable between your legs again and started to drag the head of his cock up and down your slit. “Not even close to being the weirdest thing about me”.

“True”, he chuckled. “The way you wash the dishes both fascinates me and puzzles me to this day”.

He just kept dragging the tip of his length all over your cunt, spreading your juices around, stopping at your entrance sometimes but not going in. He was very obviously teasing you, and you couldn’t help but whine. “Babe…”

“What?” He grinned at you, brushing your clit with his tip briefly, only to dip back down to tease your entrance.

“Christopher”, a pout made its way onto your lips, just as you rolled your hips to try and get him to go in. Sadly, it didn’t work. If anything, it only made Chris giggle.

“God, you’re just so cute”, he was giggling still, and you would’ve probably said something about it, had he not eased himself into your heat with one swift movement, filling you up fully, making you gasp. 

Chris leaned into you, propping himself on his elbows to plant a kiss on your lips. You simply hugged him close, caressing his lower back, softly tracing the dimples there with one of your fingers just as your free hand made its way to his bum again, squeezing once he started to move, ever so slowly.

“So, so cute”, Chris mumbled against your lips, and you just hummed in response. 

Parting from your lips, he started a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck, mumbling between each press of his lips against your skin. “So soft, too…”

He dragged his hand up and down your thigh, squeezing sporadically, keeping that slow pace of his hips. “Tight…” 

You couldn’t help but whine, your brain once again turning to putty with every drag of his cock against your walls, with every tight squeeze to your soft flesh, with every love bite he left on your skin… Bringing your other hand to his buttock, you grabbed a handful in each hand, revelling in the way Chris groaned against your neck and how his pace picked up the tiniest bit.

A part of you–a very needy, greedy part of you–wanted to beg him to go faster, to go harder, but another part of you simply wanted to enjoy his slow and precise movements, especially when Chris seemed to be enjoying it all just like this.

As you dragged the tip of one of your fingers up his spine, he swore under his breath and kissed you, so deeply you weren’t sure what had you involuntarily clenching around him, if it was the feeling of his tongue against yours, or his cock stretching you open and hitting the utmost sensitive areas within your walls.

Detaching himself from your mouth, Chris pressed his forehead against yours, the lack of barrier letting your soft moans freely spill from your lips.

One of his hands found yours, linking your fingers together, holding it tight and pressing it to the mattress as you mindlessly whispered sweet nothings to him. How good he felt inside of you, how well he was fucking you open, how handsome he was… Anything and everything that came to your hazy mind, all while Chris just groaned lowly, sounding just so incredibly lost in the feeling of you and your body it almost made you lightheaded.

Burying his cock as deep as he could, he stilled, catching your mouth in a heated kiss when you buried your hand in his hair and tugged.

“Sit on me”, Chris mumbled against your mouth, pressing a brief kiss on your lips right after for good measure.

You simply nodded in response. The sudden lack of his body heat, of his length inside of you, of his weight on you, almost gave you whiplash, but you moved regardless, and as soon as Chris was on his back, you straddled him, keeping yourself lifted enough to align his cock with your entrance.

You couldn’t help but moan once he was back within your warmth, just like Chris didn’t seem to be able to hold back his groan of satisfaction when he was snugly buried to the hilt. Bringing his hands to your hips, he squeezed hard on your soft flesh, swearing under his breath as he took in the sight of you fully sitting on his lap.

“Fuck, look at you–” He all but choked on his words as soon as you started to move, bracing yourself on his chest for leverage so you could bounce on his cock.

“Was this what you’d imagined?” You asked, admittedly a bit breathless. “During your–Fuck… Your hip thrust sets?”

“Baby…” Planting his feet firmly on the bed, and with his tight grip on your hips, Chris started to thrust up, so suddenly you fell on your elbows at either side of his head, moaning loudly. “It’s… So… Much… Better”, he emphasised each word with sharp thrusts, hitting your walls just right, making you whine.

You tried your best to match his pace, bringing your hips down when he brought his up. You could feel your soft flesh rippling every time your bodies collided, and you honestly couldn’t contain the sounds that were flying past your lips as Chris kept relentlessly ramming into you.

“You’re a fucking dream”, Chris groaned, pulling one of your arms behind your back and holding it in place with one of his strong hands to keep you flush against his body, chest against chest, while his other hand moved from your hip to grab a handful of your ass. “You take it so fucking well, fuck…”

All you could do was whine as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, attaching your lips to his throat in an attempt to muffle the pathetic sounds that were coming out of your mouth. As soon as your free hand made its way into Chris’ hair and tugged, he groaned, and his hands tightened their hold on you in response.

The longer you stayed there taking a pounding, the longer your clit rubbed against his lower abdomen, the more you felt your sanity slip between your fingers, leaving nothing in your mind but Chris and his cock ramming into you and his hands holding onto you.

You wanted to tell him how close you were, but you honestly weren’t sure if the words came out of your mouth at all. All you knew for sure was that after one particularly hard thrust you finally found your gratifying relief, mindlessly biting on Chris’ shoulder to somehow keep your mind a bit grounded through it all.

You vaguely registered Chris swearing, loudly, repeatedly, until the hand on your rear pushed you flush against him and the most delicious sounds flew past his lips as he came. You clenched around him, somewhat on purpose, somewhat because he just sounded so incredibly hot when he groaned and moaned so close to your ear you just couldn’t help your body’s reaction to him.

“Fucking hell…” Chris mumbled, turning his head enough to absentmindedly press kisses on your cheek, finally letting go of your arm and your buttock so he could wrap his arms tightly around your waist, holding you close.

You turned your head fully, catching his mouth in yours for a slow, gentle kiss, moving the hand that had been held on your back to softly caress his cheek while the other simply played with the more than mussed curls on his head. 

You both laid there for a moment, until Chris muttered a ‘gimme a sec, baby. Gotta get rid of this fucking condom before I go soft and cum gets everywhere’. 

So you got off of him, dropping to the side to catch your breath as you watched him leave the room to dispose of the soiled latex and come back in less than a minute. As soon as he was back on the bed he asked you to lay on top of him again, and you did, chuckling a bit once you straddled him and rested your weight on him.

“So this is why you wanted me, huh? So you could use me as your own personal weighted blanket?”

Chris just laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying a hand in your hair to softly massage your scalp. “How do you even come up with this stuff?”

“I’m a part-time comedian”, tucking your head under his chin, you couldn’t help but sigh, feeling content, and immensely satisfied.

Chris hummed, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And a full time cutie”.

You pulled yourself away from his neck briefly, regarding him with a smile before you kissed him.

“Have you ever had Venezuelan food?” Chris asked as soon as you pulled back from the kiss, softly caressing your back.

“No, why?”

“There’s this really good place in the city centre I think you’d like… Was thinking maybe we could go there tonight”.

You quirked a brow at him with a teasing smile on your lips. “For our date?”

“God, yeah”, Chris giggled, blushing a bit as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb, and somehow the sight of him blushing made your face heat up as well. “For someone so dense, you’re incredibly confident sometimes, you know? No wonder you got me all smitten like a fool”.

“Ohhh, you’re smitten?” You couldn’t help but tease him further.

“And like a fool. That’s a very important part”, Chris grinned at you.

You kissed him, because why wouldn’t you when he was so cute and hot and his lips were so kissable? Especially when he was almost glowing with the after-effects of his high, and when he was looking at you with borderline sparkly eyes.

“I like you so much, Chris. It’s embarrassing”, you mumbled against his mouth, pressing another kiss on his lips to emphasise your statement.

“At least we can be embarrassing fools together”, Chris giggled, but the sound quickly turned into an annoyed groan as he felt the bed dip again when Wolfgang jumped on it, carrying a penguin plushie in his mouth, doing little hops, and wagging his tail so fervently all you could do was coo and laugh.

Herbie had indeed been a bad financial investment, but, at this very moment, all that monetary loss seemed to pale in comparison to how happy and full you felt. As you rolled off of Chris and he lunged at Wolfgang, essentially wrestling with his dog while he laughed, you were more than certain that it had all been worth it, and that you were more than ready to build your romantic relationship with Chris.

Tagging: @raspbinniecreme · @staaa96 · @oiminho · @starshine-moon · @biribarabiribbaem · @100layersofdaddyissues · @dearalice · @alexis-reads-fics · @xcookiemonsteer · @knowleeknow · @chanlovesme · @liminaldaydream · @sstarryreads · @svngiem · @notastraykid · @princelingperfect · @peepeepoopooharrie · @aestheticsluut · @skzhomiehopper · @cessixja · @mimzibee · @hipsdofangirl · @djeniryuu · @floatingcoffecup · @hakunaamaatittiessss · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @moonmooncr · @waiting-for-the-barbarians in purple: can’t be tagged. If you want to be removed (or if i tagged you incorrectly) from the list just PM me. If you want to be added fill in this form~

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Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :)

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Maybe 27 with larissa or lesso?

Hey anon! I already did 27 for Lesso and you can read it here: Red Fever. But I’d love to write this for Larissa 💕🤭 I included an amazing song to go along with this fic 😉✨

I Take Care of What’s Mine ~Larissa Weems xFem Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#27. “If you hate me so much, why do moan my name in the shower?!”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, shower sex, implied masturbation, fingering, kissing, hickeys, praise kink, angst, enemies to lovers kinda, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You had started working at Nevermore this summer and now the school semester was in swing. Your colleagues were pretty nice and the kids were great (difficult at times, but you loved them). And then there was Principal Weems.

You two had a weirdly professional yet complicated relationship. You were both formal and behaved professionally. At least most of the time. You had a hunch that she didn’t like you. And that she simply covered her distaste for you with professionalism.

For one, she insisted that all staff members called her ‘Larissa’ in private, but not with you. For you, it was always ‘Principal Weems’ or ‘Ms. Weems’. She also actively ignored your inputs at staff meetings. She’d just run you over and continue talking. Her words to you were curt and prompt. And you had the feeling she avoided to be alone with you at all costs…

But you loved everything else about Nevermore. So you put up with the Principals disguised hatred. Even though it hurt your heart that the two of you didn’t get along.

You sighed, contemplating all of this for the zillionth time, as you made your way to Principal Weems’ office. You had to drop off some paperwork, which meant you unfortunately had to interact with Larissa… You arrived at her office, only to find the office door cracked open… You entered the office and found no one.

“Principal Weems…?” You called.

“M’mmm…”

You heard a stifled mumble of a voice in response, coming from a side door in Principal Weems’ office. You placed the papers on her desk and quietly approached the ajar door. You heard a light pattering of water. As if someone was showering…

“Oh Fuck…” a muffled voice groaned.

Your eyes widened at this and your ears pricked up even more. But nothing could have prepared you for what you heard next…

“Oh God Y/N that’s it…! Such a good girl…!!” Larissa cried out.

Your breath hitched and you stumbled backwards. Your brain short circuited and you practically ran back to your private quarters. You slammed your door shut, collapsing against the door and panting heavily.

~~~

The next morning, all you could think about was what you had heard the night before. Through the entire staff meeting, your thoughts were spiraling.

Why would Larissa say your name? Didn’t she hate you??

As the staff meeting let out, you decided you had to do something.

“Principal Weems, can I speak to you in your office for a moment?” you asked.

The Principal didn’t even look up to meet your eye. She merely hummed a yes in response. You entered her office, yesterdays sounds ringing in your ear, as Larissa closed the door behind you. She walked around behind her desk and her eyes finally met yours.

“What is it Miss L/N?” She impatiently asked, her foot tapping the floor.

“I…” you stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You blurted out, just wanting to get this over with.

Larissa’s eyes widened at your statement and her lips pursed.

“Excuse me…?”

“I… why do you… hate me so much…?” You stuttered, tears starting to sweal in your eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miss L/N.” She defended.

“It’s not ridiculous!” You exclaimed with a crack in your speech, “I just… I just don’t understand!”

“Don’t understand what??” Larissa demanded with a raised voice.

“If you hate me so much, why do moan my name in the shower?!” You exclaimed, finally letting it out.

Larissa was stunned. And now you were confused by her reaction. After a minute of straight silence, Larissa broke out in a fit of giggles.

“Is this funny to you??” You questioned the blonde.

“Yes…!” She chuckled, “Do you honestly not understand??”

“Understand what?!” you yelled.

“That I like you!!” She yelled back.

Luckily Larissa had closed the door…

It still hadn’t clicked for you yet.

Larissa groaned out in frustration, swiftly invading your personal space, and smashing her lips into yours. At first you froze, but Larissa was quick to melt you with her lips on yours. You giddily moaned into the kiss, as Larissa’s tongue slid into your mouth. You both had to eventually pull away to regain your breath.

Larissa stared at your unabashedly, as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Her lipstick was smeared all over you lips and all around hers as well.

“Do you understand now…?” She purred.

Your blush tenfolded, “Yes…” you whispered back.

Larissa’s lips grazed your ear, “Did it turn you on to hear your name on my lips…?” She purred.

You shuddered at the change to such a sultry tone. Your throat went dry at her words.

She lustfully continued, “Did you want that to be your fingers making me come undone…?”

You gulped and nodded.

“Well Why don’t you join me for a shower then…?” She purred, staring you down intently.

“I…Yes please…!” you immediately whimpered in response.

Larissa raised her brow and walked over to the side door, leading to her private quarters. She beckoned you to follow her.

This was a fucking fever dream…

You followed the blonde into her room and then into her bathroom, your mouth agape the entire time. Larissa chuckled lightly at the effect she had on you. She closed and locked the bathroom door.

And then she began stripping right in front of you. Your eyes widened and your blush deepened as Larissa exposed her swell breasts, milky thighs, and everything else for you to see… You were glued to the spot. Larissa eventually sauntered over to you, swinging her bare hips in a delicious fashion.

“This will not work…” Larissa tutted, as she began to remove your clothing, piece by piece.

Your pupils were blown wide and you let the blonde lead you into the shower. She turned the water on. The same sound of pattering water filled the room. You still couldn’t fully believe this was happening. But then her lips were on yours again, and everything made sense again.

Your bodies moved in tandem, as Larissa guided you to trap her in between the wall and your own body. As her tongue explored your mouth, Larissa’s hands explored your exposed, wet body. One hand found it’s home on your ass, squeezing it and eliciting a moan from your lips, which Larissa gladly swallowed. The other hand finding your breasts and kneeding them one after the other.

Eventually, Larissa pulled away from the heated kiss and brought her lips to the shell of your ear, “Why don’t you be a good girl and finger me, baby…” she husked, her words sending shivers down your spine.

You immediately nodded, dropping to your knees for the blonde. Larissa widened her stance for you, as she leaned against the wall with one hand in your hair. Your mouth found home on the blondes clit, causing Larissa to only egg you on more. You ran a finger through her folds, removing your mouth from her clit for a moment to lick her slick off your finger. You moaned in delight.

“God Baby… Don’t be a tease…” Larissa groaned.

At that, your tongue wrapped itself around her clit once more and you slipped a finger into the blondes dripping cunt. Your began pumping and curling your finger inside her heat at a decent pace.

“Oh Fuck…! More Baby… God more!!” Larissa moaned out, her head and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

You happily obliged, slipping another finger into her throbbing pussy and speeding up your thrusts. Once you found that spongey spot in the blondes walls, she was done for… Larissa’s legs began shaking and moans flowed freely from her lips. You added a third finger and Larissa snapped.

“Oh God Y/N that’s it…! Such a good girl…!!” Larissa cried out, as she came around your fingers, with your mouth on her clit.

You eagerly cleaned the blonde up through and after her high. You then looked up and met her hodded gaze.

“Such a good girl…” Larissa husked, cupping your chin and raising you to connect your lips to hers.

You whimpered into the kiss, now needing desperate relief yourself. Now you were the one to pul away. Your needy eyes met Larissa’s.

“Please… I need you…” you whimpered.

Larissa chuckled, “Don’t worry, Baby… I’ll take care of you…” peppering along your collar bone kisses in between her words, “my good girl…” she purred.

~~~

[iwoulddothingstothisman]

Figuring out

"Sam, Sam."

"Psst, Sam"

"What Dean?"

"I think I love him."

"That's great he loves you too, go back to sleep."

"I don't think I can."

"Then for fuck sake, shut up," Sam grunted and turned over on his shitty motel bed to face away from Dean's bed.

"Then shut up," Dean mocked under his breath, "bitch." He flopped back down onto the pillow only to stare up at the celling he had just enough light from the freeway to see.

Not four hours later the sound of wings fluttering reefed both boys from their sleep. Dean jolted up knife already in hand only to see Cas, his Cas maybe even, standing at the foot off his bed looking for all the world like a lost child.

"Cas, not that it's not good to see you, but why are you here, it's like five in the morning," Dean grunted while rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his knife.

"I wanted to see you, though waking you was not intentional." His head was tilted a little to the side, an adorable pout on his lips. Thank god for the dark room or Cas would've seen the blush creeping up his neck.

"Well I'm up now, what d'ya want for breakfast, Sam?" Dean asked while swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Whatever they have, salad-wise," Sam said, snuggling deeper into the covers.

"Naturally." Dean put his knife onto the bedside table so it was within Sam's reach if need be then trundled his way into the bathroom after grabbing the same jeans he wore yesterday and his only clean shirt.

He came back out, did up his boots and grabbed the keys for Baby.

"C'mon Cas, we'll let Sammy get his beauty rest," He said while walking past the Angel who followed a half step behind Dean

The drive to the diner was thankfully uneventful, no vampires trying to slash their tyres and no women in white trying to seduce them.

The diner was even more dull. The standard traffic of office monkeys that hate their life but can't bring themselves to end it and early morning joggers who think they're different for getting oat milk and tweeting about it on their aggressively nature themed blog that calls to the end for all farming. The only stand-outish part of it all was the cashier. A woman in her maybe late 20's by Dean's guess with bright blue hair, a pro-Palestine hat that said 'from the river to the sea' with the Palestinian flag under it and a full cyber-sigilism tattoo sleeve.

Dean had been so busy studying her appearance that he hadn't even noticed the line had moved enough that it was their turn to order.

"So what will you and your boyfriend be having today?" She asked with a tinge of an Aussie accent and Dean faltered.

"We- uh- he's- we're ah not together." He stumbled to get his words out.

"Sorry mate, what can I get ya?" She asked again, this time her accent came through thicker.

"I'll just get a bacon and egg muffin with a coffee, black, two sugars please and, do you guys do a Caesar salad?"

"We do, yeah."

"The largest one of those I can get, to go please." He passed her the money and pocketed his change before walking over to the table furthest from the door.

"It is odd that she thought we were together," Cas stated. Dean almost choked.

"Yeah, yeah it is." dean replied praying to a god he knew didn't care that Cas would drop it, of course, God doesn't care so Cas did no such thing.

"I wonder what it is about us that made her think that, I've been told that I 'look the type' whatever that means, maybe that was it."

"Yeah, yeah I guess you do." Dean paused for a second but kept talking before Cas could open his mouth. "Cas can I talk to you for a second?" He asked.

"You already are." Cas said, tilting his.

"Not the point, the bible doesn't say anything about being gay is a sin, right?" Dean asked.

"Not the original one, no. Why?"

"Because I think I love you." He rushed out.

"Yes, I love you too, I believe." Cas said, making Dean chuckle and shake his head.

"No Cas, I'm IN love with you."

"Oh well in that case then I too, am in love with you, perhaps not in the exact same way that a human might be, but rest assured I have loved you since I pulled you from perdition." Cas admitted with a soft smile.

Dean's tunnel vision on Cas was broken when the same cashier set their food on the table between then with just enough force to almost startle Dean out of his seat.

"Have a good one," she said before speed walking away back to the counter where a chef was relentlessly ringing the bell.

"Come, we'll continue this in the car." Cas said while getting up and grabbing the bag.

Cas was waiting next to the passenger door when Dean finally pried himself from his seat in the diner. He swiftly unlocked Baby and jumped in to start the car. Cas wasn't half a second behind him and had the door closed before Baby had started.

"Did you mean in when you said you've loved me since you pulled me from hell."

"Of course, why else would I say it?"

"Then why, why, didn't you say anything?" Dean exclaimed.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Good grief Cas." Was all Dean said before grabbing Cas by the lapels of his coat and kissing him. He pulled back a second later only to be pulled straight back in by Cas' hand in his hair.

The food was cool by the time they got back to the motel and Sam had packed all of his stuff and some of Dean's

"Good to see you two are still alive, I was about to send out a search party." He said with a knowing smirk.

"Shut up, bitch."

"Whatever, jerk."

Sure they still had a lot to work out, especially when it came to Dean's issues but they took the first step and that's what really matter.

With that thought Dean ate his cold muffin with a small smile on his face.

This is my first time posting something original (on this blog) and I'm super nervous. Please let me know if you find any egregious mistakes and I hope you liked it.

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Save Me From Her - chapter 3

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: The past comes back to haunt, and it doesn't like the present.

a/n: Hai everybody! Sorry that this took this long to come out, but life has been lifing, and I needed to get a hold of my mental health and stuff like that. Anyways, enjoy!

warnings: amature writing, wounds, stabbing, Canon-typical violance, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, mass homocide, blood, blood, and more blood (also; not proofread. I will, but not yet. When I did, I will remove this. I just wanted to push this out as quick as possible.

“Lolly!”

Her voice was venomous as it echoed through the small room, shivering, and agitated.

“Come ‘ere…”

The voice disintegrated, everything in it becoming shadowy dust, blown away by the wind. Her voice faded as well, as it was taken over by a sound that cut through the very fabric of nature. A scream, loud, horrid, and filled with emotion. Filled with anger, with hate and rancor.

“She was screaming, shouting, and begging for it to end.” The voice sounded from the depths of darkness. “Yet you did nothing!”

Her face emerged from the dredge, emotionless. Her eyes like glass, her mouth ripped open, deep bruises across her features. Dead. Then her voice sounded again, the former emotions snuff from the words she spoke, replaced with sadness. She sounded bitter, heartbroken. Disappointed.

“We could have been happy Y/N. We could have been…”

----------------------------

Tara was worried about you. Ever since you saw the note, you haven’t been the same. You acted like nothing happened, talked to the cops about the attack whilst soothing her quivering body. They asked about the dead body as well, which you gave the full truth about; that he attacked you two yesterday and that in his drunk state, you could fend him off. With her help you went through about what happened inside the building today, skipping over the personal parts of course.

Even though you kept a straight, composed face, even when you talked calmly, not a hint of trembling present in your voice, she could see through your façade. You were shaken to your core. She saw the slight flinch of your eyes when the name ‘Lolly’ came up, she felt the almost unnoticeable tightening of your grip around her whenever they asked about your wounds. The little motions your lips, your body, they all gave you away. She has never seen you like this. Scared. You weren’t whilst talking back to someone twice your size, not when you defended her yesterday from the drunk, not when you two fled for your lives today. Not when the knife was inches away from your face. Never

Yet now, you were. The reappearance of Ghostface by itself made Tara too, your state had only worsened hers. She was afraid for you. The worry she felt for you overwhelmed every other emotion that would rise in her. She felt like she needed to stay strong, for the both of you. Falling apart was not an option.

After the ambulance patched you up, the cops approached you once more.

“You’ll have to come with us so that we may pick up your statements at the precinct.”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we just tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but to officially record it, we need you to be at the station.”

“But-“ Tara started but your soft, gentle hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let’s follow the officers Tara” you said, looking at the young woman. You were composed and confident.

She huffed but gave in to you. “Can I call Sam from your phone please? I left mine in your apartment.”

“Here” you mumbled as you absentmindedly handed her yours from your back pocket.

As Tara started to dial in her sister’s number, she saw it was already saved. At the name she raised her brow again. “Who is ‘Geralt’?

“Oh, it’s her” you say, blushing a little. "It's from Witcher.

“I know, but why is this her name?” she asks, turning the screen towards you.

You shy away from her unwavering gaze, then press the call button and push her hand back towards her face. “Oh, no you won’t escape this-“ she starts but Sam is faster, as she immediately picks up the ringing phone. She hears her voice calling out for her from the other end of the line.

"Tara! I just saw the news. Are you okay? Are you hurt? I'm on my way and be there as fast as possib-" her unrelenting assault of words is cut off by Tara.

"Sam, calm down and take a breath. I'm uninjured, but Y/N got a nasty cut on her neck. The police want us to go down to the precinct to pick up our statements. Meet us there?"

"Yeah, sounds good! Be careful!"

"Off what? I'll be surrounded by cops for god's sake!"

"We both now that won't stop him" Sam said, voice low and mournful. Flashing memories of the hospital ran through Tara's mind for a second and sent a shiver down her spine. The dead cop, laying limp on the floor with an open throat, the pain and the fear coming back to her all of a sudden. Her senses numbed, not hearing Sam's voice on the other end of the line, the lights becoming blindingly bright, yet she couldn't close or avert her eyes. She was frozen in place, helpless just like when she was crawling away from her. From the one that said she would be always by her side. The one that said whatever the case, she would keep her safe. The one that said she loved her.

She flinched when she felt something touch her and snapped her head backwards. At your sight she calmed, only now noticing, and taking in her surroundings once again. "Okay Sam, I will. Bye" Tara managed to say, then hung up.

"She knew?" your voice was soft, so soft. Why were you this thoughtful with her always? It made her heartbeat faster, making her able to believe she could be normal again. But life always had a way to prove her wrong, doesn't it?

"By now all of the world could now" she gestured behind you, towards the police line where an army of reporters were lined up. You sighed as you noticed them. "We are gonna meet her at the station."

"Then let's get moving." Tara felt your hand on her back, nudging her gently to get to the police car.

You opened the door for her, then scrambled to the other side to do the same for yourself. When you got in and closed the car, the sounds of the outside vanished, a comfortable silence filling the space. The vehicle soundlessly rolled out to the road, the lights of the city blaring by the window that Tara's head was leaned against. The cops in front were chattering quietly, trying not to disturb you two.

The Carpenter felt odd. Out of place. Everything was calm. Nothing should be calm. Ghostface was back. He was here to bring her and her loved one’s pain, suffering, and death. Why her? Then she thought of the note. This wasn't about her. No, you knew what the name meant, it scared you. This wasn't about her she realized. This was about you. She rethought the attack, every little detail she could think of. She was the first one to get called, but that didn't mean much. All the time, he was staring at you with his dead eyes, always attacking you. She remembered the occasions where he could have wounded her, yet he was focused solely on you.

Tara looked over to your side of the backseats, taking in your features again. You were just as disturbed as her, deep in thought and uncomfortable. You would have looked cute if one didn't know about what had happened. Tara saw your pained gaze, could feel that your thoughts were eating you up inside and hated every moment of it. Your usual smile wasn't there to light her up. She missed your crinkling eyes that could melt the coldest frozen hearts, your witty jokes, that you would throw in the worst time possible. So, she tried to distract you.

"I want an answer" she demanded, looking at you with furrowed eyes. She surprised you with speaking up, that she could see. You looked at her, confused and unfocused. "I want an answer" she repeated. You clearly didn't know what she was talking about, but she needed you to get speaking so you wouldn't shut off again.

"What answer?" your voice full of confusion.

"The answer to my question" Tara said matter-of-factly.

You rolled your eyes at her statement. "Which one Tara?"

"Why the hell is my sister saved in your phone as Geralt of Rivia?"

You reddened instantly, looking everywhere but her. "It was mainly meant to be a joke…"

"But?"

You gulped and glanced over to her a few times. She knew her unwavering gaze would brake your resistance, and it did. "Anika pointed out that he resembles some of his attributes." You say, still not looking at her.

"Like what?" Tara asked playfully. You looked like a child caught in the act of stealing cookies from the fridge. You swallowed again, clearly rethinking your life choices since the date of your birth. "Y/N, don't think that I'll let you off the hook this easily."

"She is strong, layered and protective besides being misunderstood and mistreated!" you blurted out, looking straight at her. Once you did, your eyes widened and went pale as a ghost. Tara could feel her smile widening to unimaginable lengths before bursting out in laughter. "I'm only telling the truth here! Don't laugh at me" you pouted. You looked so kissable.

"N- no it's not you it's just" she tried to say in between laughs. "It's just that it's so accurate. She would be fuming if she heard about this."

"And that's why she will never know!" So kissable.

"Oh, I don't know about that" she smirked. "My tongue is in a slippy mood these days…"

"No, Tara I'm serious!" you pleaded, face contorting in fear. "She would kill me! I have barely made it on her list of tolerated people! I don't want to end up-" she cut you off with her lips on yours. Your eyes widened for a moment, taking in what was happening, but she didn't give you enough time to fully comprehend it. She leaned back and watched your gaping face. After you finally shook off the surprise, you smirked at her. "Well, if I end up like this, I don't mind her knowing."

Tara rolled her eyes at you but the butterflies in her stomach rendered her silent. What exactly was this? You kissed her back, that surely meant you liked her too, right? She didn’t have much time to think because you leaned in to kiss her again, this time deepening it. You cupped her cheek with your right hand, whilst the left on found hold on her waist, gently rubbing circles under the fabric. When you had to separate for air, she pressed her forehead against yours, eyes locking with each other.

“I-“ Tara started, but stopped herself. The words she was about to speak didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel enough. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to think up something that would be better.

“I know” you said simply, caressing her face with your fingers. She opened her eyes again, and your heart started beating faster at the sight of them, full of hope and concern. “Me too.”

Your words made the swarm of butterflies in Tara’s stomach grow into a horde. “Since when?”

“Anika told me what you told Mindy” you said with a smirk. “That’s when I really started to hope for it to be true. I never fully believed it until know though.”

“You mean the time when they got together?” At your nod her face reddened. She then narrowed her eyes and leaned back. “Mindy is dead to me.”

“Oh, come on, they share everything between each other, and Anika could never stand my stare.”

“It was meant to be a secret!”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me for being a too good sister, from which the other can’t keep anything from!”

“Yeah, if anything you’re an idiot” she said, smiling.

“I might be” you leaned back too and smirked at her. “But I’m your idiot now.” Tara’s stomach churned in the most pleasurable way after hearing your words.

------------------

The rest of the route went by in a blink of an eye. Tara and you had talked most of it through, and you were thankful of her for distracting you from your own thoughts. The note rocked you to your core. There were only a few people who could have known that nickname, but you didn’t see any of them capable of killing someone, let alone mutilate them afterwards. The only one died a year ago. She died a year ago.

When your thoughts would start to eat you up again the car stopped. The cops got out and helped you two leave the vehicle as well. You entered the building and were met with the familiar sight of the white walls and crowded office. You couldn’t remember how many days you spent here nagging and annoying your uncle. Yet he wasn’t here anymore, and the thought made you feel alone. Scared. Overwhelmed. Screaming, shouting, begging for it to end…

As if she read your mind, Tara grabbed your hand and interlocked her fingers with you. You looked down at her and smiled, reassuringly squeezing her hand. The cops started leading you two to what you liked to call; ‘interrogation chamber’ in your youth. Whenever you saw the cops bringing in perps in handcuffs, you would imagine how scary it must be for them. You would chase yourself into a corner of your mind where everything was scary and dark. Where she was still free. Still alive. Your only lifebelt being your uncle, who never failed to help you out of there. Now, the room you were closing in on didn’t seem so bad. It felt safe. Funny how time changes perspectives.

“Y/N?” you heard a familiar voice behind you. Not believing your ears your span around, searching for the source. “Y/N! Hey! How are you? What the hell are you doing here?” The source turned out to be a young man, with red hair and sparkling green eyes. Just like your uncle.

“I could ask you the same thing V.”

“Not even a greeting for your most humble cousin? I must say you’ve cha-“ he got cut off when you hugged him so tightly Tara was worried you might brake some bones. “There she is…” he said, wrapping his own hand around you.

“What happened? I thought you are stationed in Washington!”

“I got transferred here upon my request. Being a legacy of pa helped.”

“Kayoko, you two know each other?” one of the officers asked that were escorting you.

“Not intentionally” Vasco smirked and pushed your shoulder a little. You flinched from the pain. His eyes narrowed and without asking pushed the fabric of your shirt to the side, revealing the bloody bandage that was wrapped around the stitched wound. “What happened?” his voice got serious in an instant.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Me and Tara had been attacked in my apartment.” His eyes widened, suddenly gripping your bicep. “It was Ghostface. Now I’m involved in the homicide of a homeless drunk that also attacked us a day before and gave me this” you held up your arm. The wound narrowed since yesterday, yet it still itched and hurt. “Speaking truly, I was the aggressor that time, but that’s unimportant now.” You almost whispered the last sentence. He huffed and shook his head slightly.

“Just my luck” he shook his head. “The first serious case I get, and my family’s involved.”

“You lead the case?”

“No, Wayne does. You know, father’s old partner.” You nodded, as you did, in fact remember the graying man. “I’m in his team and for once, he didn’t put me in the backline.”

“Wayne as in Wayne Bailey?” Tara interrupted.

“How do you know him?” Vasco asked back.

“He’s the father of her roommate.”

“Quinn or E… Oh wait, no. His son is studying at Princton. So, you are Quinn’s roommate huh?”

“I thought her brother died…” Tara said.

“He did. Sorry, he had two siblings. I thought you would know this.”

“No, she never mentioned two” you said as well.

“Sorry to interrupt Kayoko, but we all have our jobs to do” a officer said. “After picking up their statements, you can have them back.”

“Of course, Stan. Apologies” he said and held his hands up.

Before you were lead away, you hugged him again and decided to throw the big ball into the game. “There was a note for me, pinned to the corpse” you whispered in his ear.

“How do you know it was for you?”

“It was meant for Lolly.”

When you pulled away, you saw his struck state. It looked like he froze down, his eyes full of sorrow as he looked at you “I’ll get to work then” he said, threw you a weak smile, and squeezed your shoulder again, before turning around and walking towards his place.

-------------

You needed to wait a little for Bailey to arrive. He was at the scene and missed you there.

“Stan and Mitch are awfully efficient when they don’t need to be” he huffed as he greeted you warmly. He was just as bright and straight as he always used to, even if time had worn him out a little. With you, at least. Tara was a different world. You remembered how he first acted around you and found resemblance. They just needed to warm up to each other, you thought.

They didn’t. From the point he started picking up your statement, he gave her his coldest self. Sam got there in the middle of interrogation, and her being around didn’t help much either. She looked even more dishevelled than last time as she barged into the room, even though half the police force tried to deny her that. When Tara reassured them that she was with you two, they reluctantly let her stay.

You didn’t know whether Tara wanted to hide what you had from her, so you tried to keep the usual distance, but the young Carpenter was having none of it. Once she got a hold of your hand under the table, she wasn’t letting go. Sam clearly saw but didn’t say anything. The only reaction you saw from her, was the small, almost unnoticeable smile on her concerned face, which you took as a good sign.

You explained everything again to Bailey, this time a bit more calmly and provided more information. You described the attack, the phone call, leaving out some information about you and Tara again. Then came the nickname. The grey man tried to go into the depths, but you dodged every question as your father and uncle had thought you to. Noone besides our loved ones will know about this. The vow you made to them resounded in your head, and you never took yourself for a liar. Noone else needs to know. It just wasn’t necessary.

“Who could want to see you two dead?” he asked with a resigning voice, eyeing you and Tara.

“Cmon’ Bailey, you know me! I’m the most charming person in the world” you teased and leaned back, smirking.

“So, half the city. You?” she asked Tara.

Before answering she shook her head slightly. “Can’t think of anyone who’s still alive.”

“Yikes.” you and Bailey said in unison.

The door opened and Stan showed his head in the door. “FBI’s here, claiming jurisdiction.”

Bailey’s face contorted from confusion. “Where are they?”

He stood and left the room, you quickly following behind. No matter how much time you spent here, it could still surprise you. You have seen federal agents once or twice, but never when they claimed a case for themselves. You were interested, the Carpenter sisters following close behind you. Tara wouldn’t let go of your hand, gently squeezing it, so you couldn’t release it, which you wouldn’t, not even if the world was ending. Especially not if the world was ending.

Three doors later Stan opened a door, motioned inside. A woman stood from one of the chairs, blonde, painted shoulder length hair, combat boots and a black outfit with a black leather jacket. You couldn’t make out what they were talking about, but the woman showed her badge and Bailey clearly didn’t like her. A case was laid open on the table, your and Tara’s picture on top of it. The sisters were talking about something, but you didn’t listen, your eyes focusing on the photograph that was taken of the corpse. It looked weird. Not how it looked when you were there.

Your train of thoughts was disrupted by Sam, who just noticed who was inside. “Kirby?”

“Hey Sam” the blonde woman greeted her and squeezed herself past you and Bailey to hug her. “Tara, and you must be Y/N, right?”

“Your detective skills are impressive” you nodded.

“You are the FBI?” Sam asked.

“You guys know each other?” the graying man asked, after Kirby nodded.

“Yeah. We went to Woodsboro high together” the older Carpenter said. “She was a senior when I was a freshman.          “

“We share a certain history, yeah” Kirby agreed. “Look, I’m not trying to get into a jurisdictional pissing contest here, I just want to help” she had a sly smile plastered on her face. “I’ll show you mine” she said, still smiling. ��Et cetera.”

You huffed at her words. This was one of the weakest jokes, you have heard today, yet it still made you smile. Kirby had this look of pure confidence and kindness, that made you calm. You looked down at Tara from the corner of your eye and saw her also hiding her grin with her left hand, the other one still holding onto yours.

Bailey scrunched his eyes, but gave in, sharing some information about your statement and about the attack. The woman nodded along, and once he was finished, spoke up. “I already knew about the circumstances of the attack. If we are to catch this maniac, we will have to work together.”

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Sam said, as her patience ran out. “We are getting out of town” to exercise her point, she grabbed Tara’s hand and started leaving the police station. Your heart clenched in a familiar uncomfortable way.

“No!” Tara pulled her hand back and stayed close by your side. “I’m not leaving her behind!” The pain eased a little at her words, yet your mind was screaming for her to leave.

“Also, I can’t let you do that” Bailey cut in. “I’m sorry, but your sister is a person of interest in a homicide. She can’t leave town until the matter is resolved.”

Sam looked at both in disbelief. At Tara because she wanted to stay in a place where a psycho was on the loose, hell bent on hurting her, and at Bailey because of how ridiculous his words have made her feel. There was a maniac on the loose, and they couldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave because of the people that should try to do everything in their might to keep them safe. It was laughable really. When she wanted to word the thoughts that were circling in her head, the lights shut out.

The whole building went dead silent. The only source of light, being the streetlamps outdoors. You felt Tara leaning into you, her heartbeat fastening against your chest. You tightened your grip on her hand, and blinked, so your eyes would adjust to the darkness quicker. There was a hint of smoke in the air, but there was no logical explanation for it. It also smelled like smoke.

A pained scream echoed through the room. The scream of man. After a moment it turned into a growl, becoming ever more silent as something blocked the way of the sound. You heard Bailey and Kirby take out their guns, cocking them, just as all the other cops in the building. You snapped your head in every direction, but you still couldn’t see clearly, only the figures of people. The smoke in the room only got thicker.

A way too familiar voice resounded across the place, filling you with fear. His voice. “Did you miss me, Lolly?”

Another fading scream filled the room, but this time two shots followed it right after. The sound was deafening, and your ears started ringing. You could hear distant orders being barked out even though it came from right next to you, the figures of the two law enforcers disappearing from before you. A million thoughts were blaring through your mind, only some of them useful. Before you could do anything, you felt someone grab your hand and pull you with. After a moment you realised it was Sam, and stopped struggling against her, following her lead. But then she stopped in her tracks.

“No escape for you here, dear.” Ghostface spoke again, from right before you. You looked over Sam and saw him already stabbing towards her. You tried to pull her backwards, but it was too late. The knife sliced into her flesh, a pained groan leaving her mouth as she stumbled back. As you were still pulling her, a cop got between you and him, raising his gun. Three shots were fired, two of them clearly hitting him, but it was as if he didn’t even notice. He lunged forward at his shooter, opening his throat and chest with two precise and fast attacks.

You span around and ran the other way, the Carpenters by your side. The smoke had now filled the entire place, vision impaired. It helped that you had the building memorised by heart, as you took turn after turn. Shots were being fired and the smell of blood mixed with the smell of smoke and gunpowder, creating a metallic, hardly breathable atmosphere.

Then you tripped in something. As you fell, you let go of Tara’s hand and when you looked up, you couldn’t see her no more. You could hear her screaming your name, but you couldn’t answer, the smoke filling your lungs. Then you looked down at what you tripped in. Or as it turned out, who. It was a uniformed cop’s body, struggling for air. He had a stabbed wound in his gorge. Your hands were dripping of his blood, half your clothes soaking in it too. You didn’t know a human could have so much blood in their body, but when you looked around, you saw one more, with also as precise cuts as all the other victims you witnessed. All of them were stabbed at vital organs, or from where they would die in a few seconds or minutes. Not a second wasted.

“Oh, poor Y/N” he said in a condescending voice. “This must be pretty traumatic for you. I almost feel bad.” A hand grabbed your hair and pulled you back by it. “Almost” he whispered in your ear. There was a voice behind the modulator, that was familiar. Your heart skipped a beat after realisation hit you. But that couldn’t be possible. It just couldn’t!

You slumped back to the ground when she suddenly let go of your hair. You looked back behind you, seeing her figure falling onto her back. Another woman stood above you, and you could take out Sam’s boots. She grabbed you, pulled you up and started running, not even waiting for you to be able to catch your balance, just pulled you after her. She barged through a door, that led you to the Northern stairs, where Tara was waiting, tears running down her cheek. She was coughing hard, trying to swallow air desperately, yet she couldn’t. You looked at Sam for a moment, and after you saw one of her hands was occupied with a gun, you picked up Tara in your hands and started running down the stairs, three steps a time.

The ground floor looked similar in its form, but there was no smoke here. Bodies were scattered around the place, some of them civilians, some of them cops. All of them dead. You traced over the room, searching for a specific table, and once you found it ran towards it, leaning Tara against it.

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?!” Sam was trying her best not to snap at you.

“Tara’s going to suffocate if we don’t do something” you answered, opening drawer after drawer to find the item you were looking for. “To our “luck”, Private Alice always holds an inhaler at her desk in case her asthma ever comes back.” Sam accepted this, and turned towards the places Ghostface could come after you.

You found it in the fourth drawer and immediately turned towards the younger Carpenter. You aided her to take it in her mouth and pressed down a few times, just to be sure. She looked at you gratefully after. Her coughing died down slowly, and you helped her up. That’s when you noticed that everything was quiet. No shooting, no footsteps above you, nothing. Was everybody dead?

As to answer that question, the door of the staircase opened, and a very dishevelled looking Kirby stumbled into the room, followed by Bailey and two other cops. You sighed in relief when you saw Vasco in their group. The greying man barked out some orders, and Vasco and two others walked over to you, surrounding the three of you, whilst he and the rest of the cops marched out. Kirby joined him, her gun also raised, eyeing every corner before she disappeared behind a wall.

“Vasco, what the hell is going on?” you asked, suddenly feeling very weak.

“He jumped out a window, after we surrounded him” he said, very quiet. Why was he so quiet?

Then he threw you a glance. The glance, turned into a full-blown stare, his face horrified. You saw his mouth opening, but no notes hit your ear. Your side throbbed of pain, and you looked over to see, why. When you saw the opening that had been carved into you, you did nothing. Nothing else than stare at it, whilst feeling your vision darkening, and getting weaker and weaker. The floor came quicker than you could realise, why it was even getting closer. Suddenly you felt the floor hit you with all it’s might before everything became dark.

[hoedamn-eron]

what he didn't do

Being Miguel O’Hara’s partner was exhausting.

Warnings: Angsty. Not a happy ending. Edited on phone so prone to mistakes. Word count: 2,441 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Inspired by What He Didn't Do, by Carly Pearce. Sorry this is also late, I was supposed to post it yesterday.

Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara was…stagnant. Unaffectionate. One-sided.

But it never used to be. You both used to be head over heels in love, almost sickly so. Everyone would say that you were ‘good for each other’, that you were both what ‘everyone wanted to be’, and you would always shy away from the compliments, but you knew they were right. You and Miguel were soulmates, and you couldn’t help but feel a little smug when your friends gushed over you both.

He used to show up at your office, randomly, with flowers or a new outfit, claiming you would be going on a date after work. He’d take you away on spontaneous romantic trips, and you would be all over each other when you were together. How could you not be? He was gorgeous, and a wonderful man. You knew this was the man you wanted to settle down with and marry.

But now he was distant, and ignorant, and you barely spent time together. You didn’t know what changed.

You grimace to yourself. That was a lie, you did know what changed. He became obsessed with keeping the canon events rolling, so much so that you hadn’t really seen him in months. You don’t even remember the last time you kissed. All he did was spend his days sat by that screen, watching old memories of him and his daughter. You felt for him, truly, but he was so obsessed with the past, that his future was fading from him, and fast.

The last straw for you was when he missed your anniversary. You waited for him for two hours, in your apartment, where he said he’d pick you up after work. Your calls got ignored, and you eventually stopped leaving a voicemail every time. When you saw him the next day, coming home to your shared apartment late and in a blatant bad mood, obviously having no idea what he’d done the night before, you mentally checked out of the relationship.

You moved out of the apartment in Nueva York slowly, not that he’d notice, since he was never there anyway. You managed to wrangle the help of Peter every now and then, for the bigger pieces of furniture. After a month and a half, you were gone. You took your name off the lease and emailed a copy of it to Miguel. If he didn’t think so before, he definitely knew now that you were done.

But he didn’t…do anything. It was as if you were strangers. He didn’t approach you, didn’t come and beg you to take him back. He didn’t apologise, didn’t make it up to you. You gave this man years of your life, which now, you realised, obviously meant more to you than they did him. After this devastating conclusion, you tried to avoid Miguel as much as you physically could. Despite how pissed off you had been and how you had already mourned the relationship, it still hurt to see him, or even talk about him.

However, you worked within the Spider Society as a general PA. It was tough to get through this particularly tough period of your life when your friends kept talking about him.

“He’s more pissed off than he usually is,” said Jess as you meet up with her and Peter for your weekly lunch date at your local Spider King.

You choose not to answer her as you eat your fries.

“He isn’t getting laid anymore,” joked Peter before giving you a wince. “Sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s whatever. He wasn’t getting laid anyway, at least not from me.”

“Is that why you broke up?” Jess asked. “Did he cheat on you? I’ll kill him for you, if he did.”

“No, he didn’t,” you say quickly (you don’t want any rumours floating around) before you shrug.

“So what did he do?” Jess asked.

The question through you for a loop, and you frowned, thinking about it.

It wasn’t what he did, really. It was what he didn’t do.

He didn’t put you first. It was always about the canon events, how they had to keep ticking over. Despite there being thousands of Spider People, Miguel seemed to always have to be the one to fix it. He couldn’t just be with you, at home, just because he wanted to be at home, where you would have planned a movie night, or arranged a date night for you both. He didn’t fight for you when he found out you had left, he didn’t hold on to you for dear life, that you were worth something; he just seemed to accept the fact that you were gone.

But you won’t tell anyone that. You won’t tell them the Hell that Miguel had put you through, that you’ll leave people to guess about what happened. So you shrug at Jess’s question. “We just...fizzled out.”

It wasn’t technically a lie.

“That’s a shame,” Jess said. “I thought you guys would be end game. I was sure you were both going to get married.”

You snort an unamused laugh. “Me too.”

Your tone indicated that you didn’t want to carry on the conversation, and Peter, bless his soul, changed the subject to Mayday’s new daycare, since MJ decided she needed to socialise with ‘regular people’. She’d apparently found it hard to fit in. After lunch you give your friends a goodbye before you make your way back to your office. You try to keep your head down these days, since you want to avoid conversations like you just had with your friends (and honestly, you still couldn’t bear to bump into Miguel). You usually had no problem avoiding anyone but today, someone, somewhere, just wanted to see you suffer.

He was stood, outside your office, looking as gorgeous as he always does. For once, he wasn’t in his Spider Suit, just a pair of sweatpants and a too tight white t-shirt, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking down at the floor with that frown on his face, then one where he was deep in thought. Back in the day, you would have jokingly ‘smoothed’ out the lines in his forehead before giving him a kiss, telling him he needed to come out of his own head. You push the feeling of familiarity away before clearing your throat, pulling out your keys to unlock your office. “Can I help you, Miguel?”

“We need to talk,” he replied, his face as stony as always.

“What about?” you ask as you open your office door, walking through, still not looking at him. You felt sick. You weren’t expecting this today. You thought he had moved on, since he hadn’t spoken to you since you moved out over a month ago.

Miguel strides into your office and closes the door. “You know what about.”

You pause minutely before taking a deep breath and sighing through your nose. “Right. Okay.”

You take a seat at your desk, finally looking at him as he sat opposite you. He looked tired; or more tired than usual. Those dark circles that were now a permanent feature on his face were darker than when you last saw him. You wanted to tell him he had to take it easy, to start looking after himself, but that wasn’t your job. He wasn’t yours to worry about anymore.

You cross your arms and lean them on your desk, trying to come across as nonchalant, but you probably looked uncomfortable. “You wanna talk about the break-up?”

“Yes,” Miguel said. You both stared at each other in silence for a few moments before Miguel breaks it with a, “You broke up with me.”

You’re study him for a minute before you nod. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“If you have to ask, then it was the right decision.”

He gives you an incredulous look. He was always more emotive with you. “I know that I was working more - “

You couldn’t help it. You let out a snort of a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s an understatement. By the time I moved out, I hadn’t seen you in person for at least a week. And I was taking my stuff slowly for a month before. You didn’t notice.”

“I have to keep the canon events going, I can’t...I can’t not,” he says, sounding fed up; drained. “And coming home to you was the only thing that kept me going.”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?” he asks, his tone slightly harsh.

“Saying that I was the only thing that kept you going, like I was everything to you,” you say.

“You were - “

“Do you know how many times I caught you staring at your screen of old memories of you and Gabriella?” you asked. “How I waited for you every night for you to not come home? How you forgot important dates, like our anniversary?”

He cringes at that.

You look at him with an almost desperate look on your face. “I know that Gabriella was an important part of your life. I understand how you’re hurting, and you blame yourself for what happened, but you cannot let it overtake your life, Migs. You’re letting your past affect your present, your future, and look what’s happening.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let universes collapse?”

“No, Miguel, I’m not – “ you sigh, closing your eyes as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I know that you need to keep the canon going. I understand that it’s your job, but…it’s not your only thing to worry about.”

You open your eyes and his expression breaks your heart, especially after a few moments he whispers out, “I’m sorry.”

The room falls silent again. Your heart skips a beat like it normally does when you find yourself staring at him; he was so good looking, and rough around the edges, his soul calloused and scarred from years of hard work and demanding tasks, and the battles he's fought but you know he’s not as tough as he seems. He’s a real softy, really. You knew from when he used to be with you more, earlier in your relationship, when he would come home after a rough day and practically whine to be in your arms, his face snuggled in your chest.

Or when he would come up behind you when you were cooking in your kitchen, and he would wrap his arms around you. He towered over you, so he practically enveloped you every time he did it. And he’d always slowly sway you, even though there wouldn’t be any music. You’d always end up having a slow dance break from cooking, and you’d always end up giggling before telling him to go wash his hands because dinner would almost be ready.

And he was soft in the way that he used to whisper to you how much he loved you, how he was so happy to have found you, that he felt whole to have you, that he truly felt at home when you were around. He used to give you this smile, that you never saw around everyone else, but only when you were alone; it was a reverence that showcased the depths of his affection for you, that he trusted you, that he was safe with you, and you with him. You found solace with each other.

But that was gone now.

“All I wanted was to be put first,” you whisper, your eyes swimming in tears you hadn’t realised were there. “Just once in a while.”

“I can work on that,” Miguel says quickly. “I can…I can take a few less jobs, I can be at home more – “

“Migs,” you say, already shaking your head, a few tears slowly falling.

“Please, mi amor,” Miguel whispers, reaching over your desk to hold your hands tightly. Your chest tightens at the familiar nickname you hadn’t heard in so long. “Please, come home. I’ll get better, I’ll be better. I’ve been miserable without you.”

You want to make a quip about how he’s miserable most of the time anyway, but you hold back the comment. It would be spiteful, and you had moved on from being angry, and upset, and you were far from being spiteful. “I can’t, Miguel.”

“Please, mi amor,” he says again, his hands squeezing yours just a little tighter.

You don’t know what to do. This was the most you’d spoken to him in weeks…probably months, and he was begging you to come back to him. You were so torn. What if you take him back and he goes back to his old ways again, down the line? Would you be willing to give up more years of your life for Miguel O’Hara for him to throw them in your face again?

You’re ready to tell him no, to tell him to never contact you again, but you remember your relationship before. Now that he’d seen what his actions had done, would he put in the effort? Would he be willing to work on himself, to work on your relationship? You know that you couldn’t go back to the way things used to be, your trust in him has dwindled to almost nothing. And you were alone, picking up the pieces of your broken heart and he hadn’t even realised until you were long gone.

“I can’t,” you finally say, removing your hands from his. You swiftly wipe at the tears on your face, averting your eyes from his. “I can’t…put myself through that again.”

You can see his chest rising and falling just a little more heavier than before, and you knew you couldn’t look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave, and you’d be back to square one.

After a few moments, Miguel answers. “Okay.” He stands, and you still can’t look at him. You hear him walk away from you, reaching your door but he pauses. “I’m sorry, again. For everything. And for bothering you today.”

He quickly opens your door and stalks out, and you wince as he closes it with a slam. You feel your shoulders go slack, unaware that you were so wound up in the first place. You let yourself sit alone, silently crying for the end of your relationship with Miguel, romantic and otherwise. Maybe with some space and time, you could look into being friends again, but for now, you will close this chapter of your life and think back on your relationship with Miguel as a hard learning curve.

In the end, you’ll be okay. You always are.

[generalhumancloudalmond]

Part 1: Tea

Part 2: Friendship

Ending 1: White lilies

...

Red lycoris

Platonic!Yandere!Mori x Child!Fem!Reader x Platonic!Yandere!Dazai

Dazai didn't like your interaction with Mori since the days of the underground hospital. It made him feel an unpleasant mixture of jealousy, fear and anger. The reason for this was, mostly, that Dazai perfectly understood the calculating nature of former doctor, the teenager knew how convincing Mori could be if he wanted to get something. And this is why he should have found you before him, that's what he thought, until he found out that the boss has been processing the documents about your adoption for the second week.

"You didn't tell me you'd already found her, boss."

"Dazai, I can understand your offense, but you didn't tell me you were looking for her either."

"I thought it was obvious that I would be looking for my sister."

Morey shuddered. Today, for the first time, Dazai christened you his sister, as if hinting that he also has the right to be near you. The boss thought for a second, then looked up at the teenager and smiled.

"What is it that turns out? Will I have to call you son when I adopt her?"

"Don't you dare!"

Glancing at the wall clock, Mori quickly signed another document and carefully folded all the documents into a file, headed for the exit. Without thinking twice, Dazai went after the elder. However, he was still not allowed to attend your adoption, after giving instructions to the boy, Mori slammed the car door and drove off after you. Dazai could only wait.

The next day, when Dazai stormed into the boss's office after a mission with a report, he saw you. You looked even worse than the day you left the underground hospital. Throwing the report on the boss's desk, he ran up to you.

"Y/n!"

You nervously clutching the skirt of a new dress that turned out to be big for you, you were worried about Atsushi. Tears began to form in your eyes, the words of the director, when you threw a tantrum that you were not going anywhere, thundered in your head.

'Because of you, there are so many problems with the tiger, it is you who provoke him to attack other children, so the fact that someone want to take you away is nothing but a gift of fate for the whole orphanage...'

Dazai stopped right in front of the sofa where you were sitting, he began to act more slowly, as if afraid to do something wrong and scare you off. It was a rare demeanor for Dazai and it also hit your nerves. Why does everyone behave differently? Why is Elice throwing herself at you like you're the closest person to her? Why is Mori acting like he wants to please you? Is it because he became the boss? Why is Dazai so neat? Why doesn't he tell you everything head-on, as usual? Of course, people change, you understand that, but not everyone and not for the better, especially people from the mafia.

God, you want to go back to the same simple and naive Atsushi as you yourself so much.

"Y/n, I..."

He really wants to comfort you, not because he wants to get your love and affection earlier than Mori, but also because he's really sorry for the condescending attitude he gave you in the hospital.

"I'm sorry, as a brother, I..."

"Dazai, for me you are the same brother as Mori's father, namely no. And I really don't understand why you wanted to play family so much, especially with me."

Previously, you would have been pleasantly surprised by the fact that they consider you their family, but now, after all the mockery in the orphanage and Atsushi's consolations, there was a huge amount of hatred in you, both for the whole orphanage and for these two as well.

"Y/n, why did you get up? You need more rest now. Look how pale you are, and I suppose your head is still spinning..."

Mori came up to you with a glass of water and a pill.

"Take a pill first, and then go to bed. Dazai, wait for me here."

After waiting patiently for you to drink the medicine, Mori took you by the elbow and led you to your room. Yesterday, he realized that you would be stubborn and refuse any help, so today he did a lot without asking your opinion, only informing you that now he would take your temperature, bring food, give medicine and everything like that. Like it or not, he was going to take care of you.

Dazai, looking at this, felt like the confidence that he would be able to take you away from Mori was rapidly leaving him. He was late.

[manias-wordcount]

Worry (Osamu Dazai x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: ��𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝟱 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝟭𝟮 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗙𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟮 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲!  

𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗽𝘁: 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 (𝗿𝗲𝗹𝘂𝗰𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁) 𝗦/𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺!

𝗦𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝘆, 𝗜𝘁'𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗢𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗯𝘆 𝗘𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

It’s truly a sight you thought you would never come to witness. 

 “Osamu, no! I told you to say in bed.”

 Well, a sight you thought you would never come to witness regarding him. 

 Of course, you’ve seen him sick before. With every single method he tried to perform (and always failed to accomplish and get you to join him), there were a few times when you watched him do something a little more than stupid. And those were the times when you were stuck at home brewing him a thermos full of tea to solve a sore throat or whatever problem he caused for himself. Hell, you even helped him out with the occasional ear infection or two. 

 So yesterday when he told you he was going to stand outside in the freezing cold in hopes that hypothermia would get him- you didn’t stop him. Because sure enough, he realized that he didn’t want to slowly freeze to death. That there were much better things than that. Things like falling asleep at your side after taking a nice, hot bath and sipping on the bowl of soup you so generously left out for him so that he had something waiting for him when he was ready to come back inside. 

 But yesterday ended so normally for you two. It ended with no breakthroughs. With no fireworks With no parades. With nothing. That’s why you’re so surprised to see him like this.

 He who was always caught skipping work. He who was always caught slacking off. He who was always caught taking the easy way out. He who was always caught pushing his responsibilities off to whoever the closest party was- simply because he didn’t want to. Yet here he was. Standing right and tall in front of you. All dressed up a day out. Despite the fact you had already called the office to tell them that he was too sick to attend work today

 When you made the call almost an hour ago this morning, it was Kunikida who answered. And you weren’t surprised at all when he was quick to write off your concern for Dazai as him just being lazy. You couldn’t blame him either. The man did have a record. Both inside and outside of the office. But you found that Kunikida was quick to change his mind about forcing Dazai to come on in when the man in question plucked the phone out of your hand and insisted that he was fine and that he’d be coming in regardless of what you told everyone.

 Naturally, Kunikida believed that a Dazai willing to come into work despite the fact that the Armed Detective Agency had no pressing matter at hand meant that man he was speaking to right now was so ill that bedrest, a grocery list of homemade remedies (which very helpful Kenji supplied you all with), a doctor’s visit should be required and executed at once. And when Dazai turned his head to see you nodding along with every suggestion, he promptly hung up and retreated to your shared bedroom.

 You had hoped that meant he took at least part of Kunikida’s advice to heart. It was easy to say that you did based on the way you had booked a doctor to stop by the apartment in a few hours and were currently looking up the benefits of ginger and peppermint tea. But that all changed when you heard the door to your bedroom open up to reveal a standard-looking work-ready Osamu Dazai. With the lovely addition of pale skin, a red nose, bags underneath his eyes, and a miserable expression spread across his face. 

 “I told you, I’m fine-” He tries to tell you as he puts his hand out to prevent you from coming any closer but you’re not going to listen. It’s a couple of quick steps from the kitchen to reach where he is and you’re thankful that despite his overall difficult attitude in this moment, he doesn’t attempt to push you away when you get up close. “Its a just a little cold. It’s not worth fussing over.”

 “Osamu.” You stress the syllables of his name quietly, watching as he deflates underneath your concerned gaze. His shoulders sag almost instantly and his head hangs low, a messy curtain of his bangs keeping his eyes away almost away from your view. You take your time and reach your hand out- going up and up and up until you’re able to rest your hand on the side of his face. You’re gentle as you bring his head back up to meet your gaze and you almost melt at the uncharacteristically guilty expression he gives you. You cup his cheek tenderly, your thumb coming up to rub small circles right below his eyelid. You make careful note of how much warmer his body seemed than when he first woke up and you took his temperature. If only he knew… “...I don’t understand. Why on earth would you try to go in today?”

 If only he knew how much you worry for him.

 He opens his mouth to say something. But then he hesitates. Instead, the sound that comes out is a defeated sigh. It’s a clear testament to what he’s feeling right now. Even if he’s so reluctant to tell you. The real Dazai- the real Osamu that you’ve known and that you’ve loved ever since you were a teenager? You know he would be dying for the chance to take advantage of a bad-sounding cough and turn it into a five-day vacation. But he’s not. He’s not being overly dramatic about a situation he could easily take advantage of. He’s not being humorous and making jokes about his less-than-ideal health at the moment. He’s just not. And because of that?

 He’s scaring you.

 When you woke up this morning to his quiet groans of pain and discomfort beside you, you weren’t sure what to think. But he try to persuade you that he was fine. When you took his temperature despite his protests and found that he was running a relatively high fever, you weren’t sure what to do. But he try to assure you that it was nothing. When he was slow and sluggish with all his movements. When he had difficulty responding to all your questions about symptoms. He insisted that despite his appearance, and the way he sounded, and the way he felt, and the way that his condition had absolutely every possibility of getting way worse if he went outside and tried to work in these conditions, he try to promise you that he was okay. That he would be smart. That he would be careful. That you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. But that’s the thing. You can’t. You can’t not worry about him. 

 You just can’t.

 “Osamu?” You call his name again when he doesn’t give you a proper response to the question you asked earlier. A thousand thoughts are swirling in your head right now. A thousand thoughts that all have to do with him. All about how you don’t understand him. All about how you want to understand him. All about how you don’t know how to reach him. All about how you want to reach him. All about how you don’t know how to help him. “Osamu, you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. But…can we…”

 All about how you want to help him.

 “...can we just get you back to bed, Osamu? Please?”

 All about how you worry for him.

 “...okay…”

 All about how you’ll always worry for him.

[loopspoop]

ごめん友よ. I just finished finals week, and alas had little time to write.

……….

There was a tentative knock at the door. Jigen and Goemon both stood up, and grabbed at their weapons, which they only just then realized had been in the car this entire time. They looked at each other as if calling the other an idiot without saying a thing.

There was another knock. Jigen went over to the door slowly and cracked it open. Fujiko rolled her eyes at his caution from behind the crack.

She pushed the door open, “Where is he?”

Goemon gestured at the couch, “Asleep. I would approach him carefully.”

She dropped her purse in Jigen’s arms as she passed, “Oh come on. He wouldn’t forget me. He probably just decided to forget your ugly mugs. I’ve definitely wished I could.”

Fujiko didn’t allow the boys to see her face of doubt as she walked past, over towards the couch, and sat on the floor next to it. He looked worse for wear. She was beyond glad that he was asleep now so that she wouldn’t have to face her fear quite yet.

She did not look back at the two men, “So what did you two get out of him?”

Goemon looked towards Jigen, hoping for him to take the lead, “I have been gone most of this time.”

Jigen, in response, looked down at Fujiko’s purse, “He said something about waking up near the museum yesterday,” he played with a tassel that was attached to one of the zippers, “but far as I can tell he doesn't know anything else, not why he was there, or anything of us, or even himself.”

They all desperately looked anywhere but at each other.

She hugged onto Lupin. She just needed to hold him one more time before he broke her heart. She stopped. He was completely on fire. It was radiating even through the thick comforter. She turned towards Jigen and Goemon accusingly. Her stare demanded answers, and told loudly of what would occur if they weren't properly provided.

Both of the men looked utterly confused. Goemon came towards Lupin to investigate the source of the problem. Jigen simply tried to ignore it, chalking it up to Fujiko having another moment with them. It wasn't all that strange for them to fight after all. But Goemon's confused and worried expression was enough to tell him that he was incredibly wrong in his assumptions. He joined by the other two.

“I do not understand, we gave him medicine. It was not this bad before,” Goemon had his hand against Lupin's forehead.

Fujiko grabbed at Lupin's hand for comfort, more for herself than him. But, moving his hand rattled several items out of the base of his sleeve. Pills. They were the cold medicine that Goemon had given to him earlier.

Jigen snatched them before Fujiko could, “What the hell?! Why didn't he take them?! Is he TRYING to kill himself?! He's already hacking up half his organs!”

“It is possible that his instincts told him not to.”

“What in the hell do you mean his damn instincts told him not to?”

“Jigen. Would you, in this situation, willingly accept pills from a perfect stranger? You would not know if they are in fact cold medicine, or instead poison or something more sinister. We have provided little reason for him to particularly trust us.”

“He ate all your food! And he's sleeping! That's pretty trusting to me!”

“You know Lupin is not stupid. He knows he has to eat food at some point. Or he will not be able to fight back or escape if necessary. Even if he does not know that is the reason he does it. And it is even more likely that he cannot help but sleep. We cannot know what he has been going through, but I doubt it has involved much of that. Though I am concerned that he did not try to hide those better. THAT is very unlike Lupin.”

They all went silent.

……….

Zenigata had long since arrived in the town. He had arranged for a new group of officers to assist him in his task, and again began to search for the new hideout, under the presumption and hope that they would still be in this place.

With the help of local officials, he was able to discover that there had been no rentals within the last three months, and this town was more well known for vacation homes for the rich. So, he took his cohort to investigate each home one by one. They had already gone through seven. Zenigata was losing hope that this route would work, but it was currently the best lead that he had, so he continued his search.

………

It was so so cold. He was in a large room. It was dark. He thought to look for a light somewhere, but everything seemed to get darker with every moment he tried. And his head hurt. There were glass cases all around, seemingly empty, and on what seemed to be the walls were paintings? He couldn't make out what they were paintings of. He walked towards one without understanding why. But it pulled him in for whatever reason. As he stood before it, everything blurred and, finally, disappeared.

………

“Well what are we gonna do,” Jigen snapped at the other two from the counter.

“We regain his trust enough for him to take the medicine willingly,” Goemon offered.

“And if we can't?” Fujiko was in the chair near the couch, watching her hand as she rolled the pills around within it.

“We wait until we can, whether by being trustworthy or through his memories returning,” Goemon was uncertain in his answer, but he did not allow that to shine through.

“How are we supposed to wait when he's getting worse by the minute?” Jigen was getting pissed.

“I am only trying to help Jigen. You can either accept my answers or propose your own. But the only other option I see is forcing them down his throat. I do not believe he is in that poor of condition to resort to such means. Especially considering the situation as of now. We have to handle this well or we may lose Lupin forever.”

Fujiko and Jigen went silent again. They hadn't considered that. They had still been thinking of Lupin as Lupin. But he almost wasn't.

Jigen thought back to the incident in the car. He had never seen Lupin so genuinely frightened. And definitely not with the emotion so very clear within every cell of his body. Jigen left the house. He needed time to think.

Goemon, upon seeing Jigen leave, decided that it would be a fine time for meditation of his own, so he retired to the backyard, leaving Fujiko with words of encouragement.

………

👀👀👀 I missed you Lupin anon! I hope your finals went well!! 😩 I can’t wait for the next bit!

[datrb]

Emperor's Court Mage

Characters: Lanfor (20), Emile (20), Altair (43)

Synopsys: After his night visit, Emile comes back to the Palace, now in a more legal manner. With a goal of joining Lanfor as his Court Mage.

After visiting his friend, Emile could barely sleep, getting up with the first rays sunlight. The streets were still quiet when he dressed and collected what little belongings he had. You can never have many things when you're constantly traveling, or on the run. And Emile was both. He smiled to himself, remembering all the travels. Yet, now they gained a bitter aftertaste, after he saw what happened with Lanfor while he was away.

Lanfor said he'll wait in the morning. Emile looked out of the window again, noting the first people that went onto the streets. Most of them were shopkeepers, some servants rushing to their masters' homes and some guards switching patrols.

It's been a while since he last saw Uvlance City be so calm and peaceful. Usually the city was bustling with life. Even at nights people threw celebrations and festivals, filling the streets with music and voices.

After a while, Emile chose to move, picking up his bag, mostly filled with notes of his findings and only a few pieces of clothes he had. He looked back at the tavern's room for the last time, before leaving for good. It felt strange to realize that it will be a while before he ends up in a place like this again.

Road to the castle was a calm one, feeling almost as if he simply chose to take a stroll. Emile observed how streets started to slowly fill with people, going about their morning routine, it was getting busier. Shops were opening and their workers hurried to get to them. Lamplighters were finishing with turning the street lamps off before calling it a night. Guards walking towards the outer wall after finishing the patrol, talking about how uneventful the night was and wishing to go to sleep as fast as they get to the barracks.

He also noticed a few early bird Dragon Tower's workers, complaining about getting a degree in magic to now sit in office all day. Hearing that Emile couldn't help but laugh to himself. Afterall, that's what probably would've awaited him if he chose to stay in Uvlance, but instead he spent two years doing nothing but research and now was on his way to join the court. Although, he was also an international criminal and only managed to get in court thanks to his friendship with the Emperor.

He made a note to himself to also mention his criminal record to Lanfor. Having all the power of the Empire in his hands, he'd probably come up with something to let Emile travel freely again. But he quickly shaken off those thoughts, reminding himself of just the condition Lanfor was in, when he saw his friend yesterday. Mage's hand reached into the inner pocket, taking out the watch, before quickly putting it back and speeding up the pace.

The streets were already almost full by the time he reached the castle's wall, where he was stopped by the guards. Closing his path with their spears.

"The Castle is closed for civilians today." - One of them declared.

"It always is." - Emile sighed to himself.

It's been the first time he was taken for a regular civilian by the guards. Usually they asked him his name and why he chose to visit. But, looking at his clothes now, Emile did look a lot less dressed up than what he used to when he lived with his parents. Only distinguishing trait would be his state mage capelet.

"My name is Emi- ...le." - He almost used his pseudonym, which is associated with his crimes, before correcting himself. - "Emile Muong"

"Muong?" - The guard who spoke earlier said with surprise, before sharing a look with his partner. - "Do you have proof?"

Of course his last name would catch attention. Emile couldn't help but cuss internally, reaching into his inner pocket. He wondered if Lanfor would be able to change the name on his record so he wouldn't have to face those weird looks in the future.

"I have an invitation." - He handed the watch to one of the guards.

Guard closely inspected the watch, to make sure it was authentic, before nodding at the other man and handing it back. They removed their spears and signalled to open the gate. Emile simply waited, having put the watch to its usual place.

A wave of nostalgia overtook him, as he made his way through the gardens. He remembered the way him and Lanfor were running around those as kids, and also how they trained in swordsmanship.

But what caught his attention even more were the exotic trees and plants that now he knew looked almost nothing like they do in the wild. The ones in royal garden went through many rounds of selection to be able to survive in Uvlancian climate. He wondered if there is a way he could actually get the real deal to survive in the same environment by using magic. But, realizing he was slowing down again, brushed those thoughts aside, before hurrying yet again.

As he approached the palace's entrance, he noticed a figure standing in front of it. Closing in, Emile figured that this was Lanfor's butler - Altair. Emile smiled, coming closer to him, however, he didn't see the usual hospitality in man's eyes. Instead, Emile felt somewhat threatened by his presence. Mage stumbled.

"Altair… Did something happen?" - He immediately assumed the worst.

However, the man didn't answer, giving Emile a judging look. Only then did it click for him. And then he also noticed the looks other servants gave him. He sighed, feeling a sting to his ego.

"So you think i'm an imposter?" - Emile felt somewhat insulted. - "Do you really think that someone other than me would know all of castle's surveillance blind spots? Or that Lanfor would refuse to move into Monarch's bedroom? Or-"

"Enough." - Altair finally spoke, interrupting Emile. - "I was assuming that His Highness might've dreamt of your arrival, however, the doubt disappeared when i laid an eye on you, Sir Muong."

He started walking down the stairs, towards Emile. And while his face remained calm, there were clear notes of hostility in the usually gentle voice.

"But even if that is true and you did indeed come back…" - The butler finally leveled with Emile, now looming over, making mage realize just how short he actually is. - "You still have to explain yourself."

"… What?"

"Do you know what His Highness went through?" - The hostility was now apparent. - "And more importantly, do you have any idea of the sheer audacity you have to show here now and ask to be by his side? After years you've spent doing who knows what?!"

That was the first time Emile saw Altair enraged by something. He couldn't help but feel somewhat scared, but he had to admit that the butler's rage was justified. If anything, it's been a miracle that Lanfor chose to not simply forgive, but grant him a place in the court. Emile looked down, ashamed at his own actions.

"I do… I know. I've seen what had happened… I've seen what he suffered through with my own eyes yesterday." - But his voice was clear and hard as ever. - "And i have no excuses. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nor do i expect to be." - He looked up, determined to get to the throne room where he was awaited no matter what. - "But i made a promise. And i cannot leave ever again."

Emile stepped forward, making Altair back up ever so slightly.

"Especially now that i have a solution."

"A… solution?"

Much to Emile's surprise, there were no more traces of previous rage left in the man's voice, so he continued, now a lot quieter than previously, making sure that no one else would hear him speak.

"I know what kind of an illness Lanfor suffers with. If i did everything right, he should've felt a lot better today." - Emile recounted the events of the past night and specifically the condition Lanfor's magic was in.

Altair's eyes narrowed, as he seemed to think of something, before sighing and turning back to the mage with a much more familiar soft smile.

"Very well then. But… Don't make me doubt your words." - He led the way towards the entrance to the palace - "I do not wish you to cause His Highness any more trouble."

"Well, i can't guarantee anything. You're way older than me, should already know how unpredictable life gets." - Emile joked, now feeling a lot more relaxed, before quietly adding. - "But i'll do my best…"

Lanfor couldn't help but pace back and forth next to the throne, wondering what takes Altair so long and if Emile came in the first place. As much as he wished for everything to be true, he couldn't help but to think of Altair's words about how it could've been just a simple dream. Still, it felt far too real. Besides, there is no way his weakness went away almost entirely overnight without any intrusion.

Magic Council Leader watched worriedly as Lanfor walked back and forth, consumed by his thoughts.

"Your Highness, are you sure you don't want to sit down? Or, perhaps, use your cane?" - Elderly mage asked carefully, still, disturbing Emperor's thoughts.

"Ah?" - Lanfor, now aware of the surroundings, stopped his pacing. - "Oh, no. I feel fine. Don't worry." - He waved at the mage.

"I with to believe your words, but you should understand that it is hard to believe that you recovered overnight."

"I guess that is true." - Lanfor smiled, before thinking for a moment. - "Azil, what are soul mages capable of, exactly?"

Such a sudden question from the Emperor surprised the Council Leader, who had to try and quickly recount the few soul mages he knew throughout his life and their abilities. Sadly, it was somewhat hard and he could only say a few things.

"Well, soul mages are not capable of much, i believe. They might posses an ability to sense magic on a much deeper level than anyone else, even looking into people's souls, but they don't seem to be able to interact with any type of elemental magic… Not even "life". They're only good for alchemy, i'm afraid." - He recounted, not without a hint of sadness. It seemed he considered soul mages to be quite unfortunate. But not even a moment later his expression changed, now being more wonderous. - "But, if i may ask, why such a sudden interest?"

"You'll see."

Lanfor nodded with a slight smile, looking at the door which opened almost as if on command, letting in Altair and Emile. Upon seeing them, Emperor's smile grew wider, as he exhaled in relief, while eyes of the Council Leader narrowed, looking at the mage who'd just entered.

"State mage Emile Muong." - Altair announced, letting Emile go forwards, staying behind himself.

"It's an honour to make your-" - Began mage, with a bow, before being interrupted.

"The honour is mine, Emile! You can stand up." - Lanfor stepped off the podium, barely containing his excitement, but still being forced to abide by the rules. - "Please, let me introduce…" - Lanfor gestured at the elderly mage, who followed the Emperor off the podium, before being stopped by a somewhat slow gesture.

"That wouldn't be necessary, Your Highness. I am… somewhat familiar with Sir Muong." - He smiled at the Emperor, stepping forward, before giving Emile a cold look. - "It's good to see you alive and well, Emile."

"It's good to see you too… professor." - Although his mouth spoke formally, Emile's face expressed nothing but shame, not daring to look at Azil and giving Lanfor only fast glances.

Lanfor was somewhat surprised and quite taken aback by such a sudden revelation, but couldn't bring himself to say anything, before being addressed directly.

"Your Highness, i am afraid he is not suited to be your court mage." - Azil said calmly. - "Emile barely graduated from the Academy. His final project didn't even utilize any magic. And on top of that, his license had long been revoked."

"My license…?" - Emile subconsciously grasped onto his cape. A symbol of his status as a mage.

It only made sense that he would lose it. He disappeared without a trace for over two years. He did not submit any reports of his findings or even let anyone know he's still alive, not to mention the fact that he completely ignored his duties. It was stupid of him to assume that he'd still be welcome as a country's mage after that.

His grasp tightened, as he looked at Lanfor, wishing only to apologize. Yet, the Emperor only looked at the Council Leader with a thoughtful expression.

"But you can overrule that decision, Sir Sanid, can you not?" - Lanfor asked, somewhat rhetorically. - "Doesn't Dragon's Tower, which controls the Academy, obey the Magic Council's decisions?"

"It does, Your Highness, and i could, but Emile barely graduated. He does not posses the magic skill required to serve you." - Azil pleaded. - "Besides, it is not as easy as you make it sound… "

"I do not see how restoring a single state license would be a problem."

"Are you absolutely certain that you would want him as your right hand?" - Council Leader kept talking. - "I've taught him. He's unreliable, and is only interested in breaking the rules and doing whatever comes to his mind. There's a variety of skilled and smart mages that serve the state that would serve you much better than he ever could."

Much to Emile's surprise, Lanfor did not seem phased by anything that old mage said. He kept standing his ground, disregarding all the words of the Council Leader. Emile was never on good terms with Azil when he was studying, and seeing old mage being pushed back like that made Emile even more confident in what he was about to do.

"Professor, if you're so worried about Lanfor…" - Emile unclasped his coat and threw it to Azil's feet. - "Why in the world didn't you treat him!? If you think you're better than me - prove it by action!"

"Emile!" - Lanfor hissed, surprised at his friend's actions, but it was already had been too late. Emile simply smiled at his friend, reassuring him that he got it covered.

"It's a duel. If i win - you obey Lanfor's orders, as you should, and let me do what i have to. And if not…" - Emile's smile disappeared, as he considered what he could offer in return. - "… And if you win - i'll do as you want. I'll leave… again."

Azil looked at the cape that laid by his feet, then on the young mage in front of him, before slowly picking up the cape and handing it to the Emperor that stood by his side.

"In that case, let His Highness be the judge. And, since i choose the rules, we will not use any weapons or artifacts. Just our own magic." - Council Leader spoke, a lot calmer than Emile anticipated, but still not without a trace of irritation at the blatant insult from his ex-student. - "Your Highness, would you be so kind as to lend us the Palace's garth"

Lanfor simply nodded, giving Emile's cape to Altair. Although Emperor's face was clearly letting everyone around know that he was not happy about his friend's idea, there wasn't anything that he could do about it if both sides agreed to the terms of the duel. But, just a moment later, he thought that maybe there is.

"But under two conditions." - He spoke, lifting two fingers. - "One, there is no destruction in the Palace's grounds or going outside of the garth. And two… The battle will be until the first blood. Try to make it as minor as possible."

"I was hoping for the first one to fall… But, oh well, whatever you want." - Emile said nonchalantly, earning a displeased look from his friend.

"First one to fall is too vague. I cannot allow for either of you to get injured beyond something that can be healed naturally in less than two weeks."

"Very well then. I will do my best, Your Highness." - Azil nodded.

Letting out a deep exhale, Lanfor looked at Altair, gesturing at him to lead the way for the two mages, while he himself chose to follow in the back, letting him think about everything that happened so far a little more.

Surely Emile wouldn't do something like this without a plan, right? But the Council Leader was no simple mage either. Lanfor couldn't help but feel worried about his friend and his future. If only Emile did not step in, he could've persuaded Azil to give up and follow an order. Emperor sighed quietly, not to draw any attention to himself. Of course, what's done is done and he couldn't have possibly changed anything about the duel at this point, beyond the two conditions.

Dueling over such a matter… He once again thought of just how different mages' way of thinking is compared to everyone else. And that is why he needed a mage he could trust by his side, and not someone suggested to him. Lanfor decided that no matter the outcome, he will do everything that is in his power to keep Emile by his side.

When they reached the garth, the sun was almost in its peak, casting a bright light on everything and everyone, as two mages took their positions.

Emile knew exactly why Azil would choose this place, glancing at the fountain that stood in the middle of the garth, only being surrounded by a few bushes and benches, making it look more like a middle of a park. Of course, an elemental mage cannot conjure an element out of nothing. Only air mages who mastered fire could. And, much to Aizil's own dissatisfaction, he was gifted with water magic, having to always struggle to find water sources.

Emile couldn't help by feel good about himself. It felt good not to have to struggle with looking for something. Afterall, magic is everywhere. He scoffed.

"If both parties are ready…" - Altair raised his hand, making sure both mages gave a signal that they're ready, before making a chopping motion, that indicated the beginning of the duel. - "Begin!"

Azil immediately took a stand, making a flowing motion to gather water from a fountain, not even giving Emile time to react, before a stream headed his way. It seemed as though he did not wish for this duel to last any longer than in absolutely had.

However, much to his surprise, the stream of water didn't even touch the target, splashing around as if it hit a wall and not a human being, only slightly wetting Emile's clothes with a few drops.

"Not even a talk before the fight?" - Young mage sighed with exaggerated disappointment, before his face changed.

Emile's eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, when suddenly, Azil felt as if his whole body turned to stone, being unable to move, speak, or blink, it felt as if even his heart had stopped beating for a split second, before it kept going as usual, only then did his opponent's relaxed expression changed.

Lanfor's eyes widened, when he realized that the Council Leader was completely immobilized, he wanted to call off the duel immediately, however, was stopped by Altair, who managed to somehow keep his composure after Emile's showcase of power.

"Professor, you never trusted that we - soul mages - can do anything, regardless of how hard i tried to prove otherwise." - Young mage began, seemingly enjoying the fact that Azil could not answer. - "I was not a bad student. It was you who refused to be a good teacher. But i have made my decision. I learned, unlike you. I learned about just how much me and other soul mages can really do."

He closed in on the "living statue", looking Azil straight in the eye, his voice now filled with aged hatred, that long since burnt out, but became poison.

"And thanks to that, i now see just how little you actually care about the one you dare claim to serve. You could've asked any soul mage to take a look at him and they would've told you everything." - Emile's face hardened, as a small cut appeared on Azil's cheek. - "He would've died if you let him stay like that any longer. The empire, you claim to love would've been in chaos. You should thank the Twelve i came before it was too late!"

"Enough!" - Finally cried Lanfor, unable to bare witness this any further, but proceeded talking a lot quieter. - "You've… done enough, Emile."

Emile had released his grip on the elderly mage without any further words, making him fall on the grass, gasping for air, trying to grapple with what had just happened. He raised his eyes to look at his ex-student. His eyes expressing nothing but horror.

"W-what was that…?" - He finally asked on the edge of hearing. His words barely legible with how shaky man's voice was. - "… What kind of a monster…"

"Ah, it's just a little trick i learned, while i was travelling. Human soul is a lot more malleable than one would like to think." - Emile pretended not to hear that last part, turning to Lanfor instead. - "Pretty sure he won't be able to keep fighting anytime soon. And he is injured."

However, Lanfor did not respond, unsure of what to say, he simply looked at Altair, who nodded and went over to help Azil up.

A silence fell between the two, as the Emperor was still trying to understand what he had just witnessed. After a while, he turned around and walked away, gesturing for Emile to follow.

Walk through the halls of the Palace, much to Lanfor's surprise, ended up being a quiet one. He expected Emile to say at least something after all that happened, and yet did not hear a single thing, being left to observe mage's expression.

He always knew that Emile was no regular person. But Lanfor would've never assumed that he was able of doing something as terrifying as that. he could only imagine how Azil must've felt, being unable to move or even breathe. Were all soul mages capable of something like that? What other abilities does Emile possess? How did he manage to find this out in the first place? Questions swarmed Emperor's mind, every possible answer only making him question what he knew of this person even more.

Finally, they reached a door to one of the guest rooms.

"You can stay here for as long as you want." - Lanfor handed Emile a key to the door. He wanted to say something more, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"A room in the palace… Now that's some good treatment." - Emile smiled, taking the key, yet failed to conceal that he too felt uneasy about the situation.

Putting the key into the keyhole, he hesitated to turn it, instead turning back to Lanfor.

"Listen, i'm.-"

"How did-"

They spoke in unison, causing a surprised pause, which was then followed by a quiet laughter.

"You go first." - Emile said, letting go of the key.

"… How did you do that?" - Lanfor hesitated before asking. - "Or, rather, how did you figure out that you can in the first place?"

"Hm… Well, it's a bit hard to explain to someone who's far from science… Do you know how everyone has magic inside them? The soul? It's actually spread throughout one's body like a giant system of streams." - Emile tried to explain, gesturing with his hands. - "And if you put a block to a stream, then the "water" in it will stop flowing. It might still be there, but it won't move. I thought that… since we already do that inside our own bodies, surely there's a way to do the same externally... It's… not a particularly good sensation, however… And it is also quite draining, unless you know what you're doing."

Much to Emile's surprise, Lanfor seemed to understand the river stream analogy, making him exhale with relief and finally say what he was going to from the start.

"But… I'm sorry. About all of that. I could've ended the duel without it, i just… I don't know what came over me." - He averted his gaze. - "I should've at least warned you."

He would've kept apologizing if he didn't feel a light hand on his shoulder, making him look up once again, to see Lanfor's smile.

"I'm glad you're back."

Taking a moment, Emile brushed away Lanfor's hand with a lighthearted exhale.

"Well of course you are. Who else would've kept you out of trouble." - He said, despetrately hiding how relieved he was to hear his friend's words, which only made Lanfor laugh.

"This room is yours. I made sure it will always be waiting for you." - He said, still keeping a smile. - "That being said, if you ever want to leave again. I just hope you'll at least warn me next time."

"Well, i might've gotten my license back this time, but if i want to stay as your court mage, i'd have to actually do my job, so…" - Emile shrugged lightheartedly, before turning the key and opening a door.

"Oh, and… We're having a ball soon. To commemorate your arrival. I'll try to settle everything regarding your license and other formalities before then. But you should rest for now. I'll get someone to bring you food."

Lanfor finally took a good look at his friend, only now noticing that Emile didn't go unscathed in those two years either.

His clothes were all heavily worn, ripped and fixed several times over in a few places. Even his beloved hat needed repairs. Not to mention how long his hair got and how much weight he seemed to lose.

Emile nodded goodbye to his friend, entering the room to get some rest. This was the same room that him and Lanfor used to play in as kids. He would've never guessed that it was one of the guest rooms, but in the hindsight it made sense to let kids roam in an unoccupied room.

Quite expectedly so, his bag was already in the room, being brought here by one of the many servants. What did surprise him, however, was a piece of cloth, which was carefully folded and laid atop the table in the middle of the room. Taking a closer look, he realized that it was a cloak. Made out of an expensive, very thick and sturdy fabric, dyed in deep blue and decorated with sheep's fur, it was sure to withstand any type of weather and climate, providing protection and warmth. Golden clasps were made into a shape of pentagons - a symbol of the soul mages.

It didn't take a lot of thought to realize that this cloak was meant for the new court mage of His Highness.

And after putting it on, Emile couldn't help but smile, realizing that it was always meant for him.

And that this is where he was supposed to be.

[ranwing]

Personal stuff (feel free to ignore)

Two weeks ago was the 3rd anniversary of losing mom, and admittedly I've been rather down for the past few weeks. I can't believe that so much time has passed, and that it still feels like yesterday. I started thinking a lot about those days when she was on hospice care when I lay in bed at night and the moments when it was clear that she was slipping away. There was the moment when I asked her who I was and she didn't recognize me. The moment when she lost the ability to swallow and I had to clean what she tried to eat for breakfast out of her mouth. I remember when the nurses explained that what I thought was sweat was her body forcing all of it's fluid out through the skin which was a clear sign that she might have only a week or two left. And watching my father holding her hand, sleeping in a chair next to her bed and telling her that it was okay to go.

There were so many wonderful things for my family after we lost Mom. My niece was awarded her PhD in psychology and is well on her way to making a name for herself in her field. My nephew graduated college and is starting to build his own career. My niece got married last October and yesterday she came over to tell us that she and her husband are now expecting their first child. There have been so many things that would have filled Mom with so much joy because there was nothing she loved more than her family. She would already be starting work on knitting a blanket for my niece's baby. When my niece told us, I started crying because all I can think about is how Mom was robbed of this. That her child will never know her great-grandmother and what an amazing person she was.

Mom wasn't just my parent, but one of my very best friends. We did so much together. I took her to see Adam Lambert in concert because we both loved him. We did Civil war reenacting with my dad and I remember the blue dress that she always wore for the first event of the season that ended up in every picture, which we called the FBD (fucking blue dress). I would take her to the Renaissance Faire with me, and dress her up in my spare corset and wench gear. She would read my fanfiction, offering suggestions and edits. We had so many wonderful, funny, amazing moments together and now it's all over. I can't begin to count the number of times when even now, my instinct is to call her from the office and just see how her day was going.

I've been crying a lot lately. A lot of people that have been through a similar loss warned that the pain will never entirely go away. It's long enough that the wound on my heart is now a scar, but it still hurt. I want to reach the point where the memories are bittersweet and not just painful. I want to think of her as she was in life and not those last moments when I lost her. It just hurts that life is going on and she is not a part of it beyond being a memory. It's not fair and I hate that she was taken away from me. It doesn't matter that I'm a woman in her 50s who had my own life. There are still those moments that I just wanted my Mom.

Thanks for listening. It's been a rough few weeks.