#we're so close to the end of this fic it's unreal

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area. 

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean. 

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself. 

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia. 

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally. 

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai. 

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on. 

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers. 

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?” 

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on. 

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror. 

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?” 

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there. 

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression. 

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him. 

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.” 

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this? 

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently. 

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears. 

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp. 

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box. 

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you. 

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time. 

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out. 

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos. 

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance. 

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias. 

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him. 

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But is this really any better? 

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress. 

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?” 

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall. 

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are. 

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away. 

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners. 

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?” 

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them. 

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer. 

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?” 

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?” 

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him. 

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them. 

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths. 

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake. 

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start. 

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other. 

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting. 

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does. 

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him. 

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him. 

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond. 

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance. 

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth. 

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction. 

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you. 

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous. 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

[haechurch]

forgetting me, forgetting you

It's not the way that jeno doesn't look at you the same. It's not the way of him chasing after a girl and leaving you behind in the evening downpour. It's not the way jeno said he didn't even love you that night. It's just nothing but your broken heart.

pairing: idol!jeno x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff (kinda), angstt

wc: 4.8+k

warnings: minors dni, unprotected sex, oral (m, f receive), spitting, kind of meanie jeno, implied exhibitionist, degrading, praising, spanking, teasing, fingering, tons of pet name, hard and soft sex, etc etc, you know when i said idol and fan relationship its just so unreal as well as how their jobs work lmao ((i had a problem to make this at least a lil bit realistic) also not seem too delusional but- just pls dont @ me, i mean its a fic)

! how embarrassing that this shit got posted accidentally (i hate tmblr) my pupils were literally shaking lol. for those who might accidentally saw this (i know theres not even a soul who cares abt it..) ofc i had this to be revised also its inspired by rv song, in my dreams, (originally the title for this one but i changed it!) i might also have songs recommendation, its [coldplay-yellow > conan gray-astronomy > yoari-dice game > exo-hurt > davichi-forgetting you > red velvet-in my dreams]

Everything was pandemonium from the start. You saw jeno in person for the first time in the concert venue. Yes. He is the singer. That singer. A born-talented, handsome, lovable idol from nct. He didn't even know you were there, in the crowd of audience hyping his band up. Never in your dreams you thought you'd met him in person, but fate brings you two together. It was what you believed until then. Fate brings your jeno who has never been yours in the first place to kindly remind you that he will never be yours even at the end of the time.

You worked hard for your pay. You work as an employee (that mostly work for dreamies) under jeno's company after you earned your post graduate title while studying in korea. That point when you made it out, you never even thought that this was a real chance to finally get him.

That's just insane, to get lee jeno, in a somehow, romantic way. But you tried anyway. Ordinary person with an extraordinary person? Or can you just say idols and fans relationship? That jeno from all the people living on this earth? Mostly impossible. Those who live around you will think you're crazy for wanting someone who literally exists in a different world from you. Even though you're 'coexisting' with him and seeing him from time to time, that would not be enough; so near yet so far.

It's so hard to work under the company and let it flow at first. Without a will, you'll never get what you want. Even though this one is nearly impossible, you attempt to keep the mindset that revolves around you: it will work if you try, try, try and try.

But it's useless. Who do you think you are? You can't even be allowed to speak nor get close to him except if it's necessary. It's hard to work with him like a normal acquaintance. To them, to jeno, you're simply invisible. 

However, you did make it clear enough. No surrendering. That's the least you can keep in mind. 

But again, he didn't even spare you a glimpse.

Then there was this day when you two were put together in the same dressing room, waiting for some interviews coming up. There's actually no reason for you to not share the same room because technically, you're their regular staff. The rest of the members and other staff were nowhere to be found, it was you and him. You and jeno all alone in the same room. You nearly choked yourself when you were about to open your mouth as jeno scooted to where you sat. 

"Hi." He lightly started the conversation. You swear to god you can hear your own heartbeat. Keeping yourself calm and professional, you hum and put the sweetest smile to him. "Hello."

"I'm so sorry if i sound rude, but i believe we're around the same age? I've been seen you around and i just knew you're a regular staff in here," you intensely stared at him, eyes widened in disbelief that he just casually- 

"We can be friends if you wan-" 

"We can?!"

-asked you to be his friend.

Realizing you just replied to him in 0,023 seconds, you covered your mouth and muttered 'sorry' to him. He just laughed. Oh. That laugh.

That's when you feel like you two were 'getting closer' as he asked you to be his friend for some idiotic reason (u really have no idea why the universe would gave you this kind of, miracle, you'd say, but you're fucking grateful).

Of course you can be friends with everyone. Also a staff (fan) and an artist couldn't be an exception, right? But once again who are you kidding, lee jeno is super busy, and you should know it could probably the friendship that only lasts for four hours.

You didn't meet jeno for weeks and you missed him so bad. Sometimes you got to talk to him after he befriend you (tho it happens only if you had that rare chance) but both of you didn't get a long time to properly talk and have a good conversation. And it's been a long time, you just missed him.

Did he perhaps miss you too? Did he ever think about you even just for a split second? You shake your head from the thoughts and scoff at yourself. He probably already erased you from his memory. And that night, you drifted into a deep slumber whilst thinking about how he wouldn't remember you.

―

But you were dead wrong. That day was very hot because apparently, it's in the middle of summer, and you were called for a job in a broadcasting house which happened to be the same place for the band to attend their schedule.

You're standing in front of a vending machine, getting a drink when you hear someone call your name. You turned around and found jeno, looking at you with his smiling eyes.

"Jeno!? What are you doing here?" You can't hide your pearly whites when you see him, so please meet him again after a while.

"We're having some jobs here. How about you?" He asked. 

"Um, me too! But mine's still running, i take a little coffee break right before come back to the site. Have you finished yours?"

"Yes, actually," jeno scratched his nape awkwardly before he continued. "Uhh, do you perhaps want to meet me after you are done? Just for a sec?" He asked.

"Sure! I'll text you when i'm done?" 

Yes, you both are having each other's numbers but can't even communicate a single thing through it. He didn't text you. And you, being the one who shamelessly asked for his numbers which he gladly gave it, never once texts him because as you can see, you're being professional enough to keep your words that it's only for the matter of work.

"Cool." You both smiled to each other and stood awkwardly for a good seconds until jeno left. 

So, did he just wait for you until you're done because he said he just finished his schedule? Is that even possible for him to do that?

The answer is yes. Though with a little bit of delay. He asked you to meet him after you're done, just to have you wait for him in the nearby cafe for nearly 20 minutes.

Jeno: uhh hi its jeno

Jeno: im so sorry for keeping you waiting

You: oh hii

You: nah its okayy not a biggie

Jeno: its the manager hyung, i told him i have to go somewhere but you know its hard to cooperate with them :/

Jeno: look i promise it will just need to b arranged real fast okay

You: okaaay i know youre busy you can really take your time tho

Jeno: so sorry ;(((

You: jeno its fine :*

You: :(

Jeno: thanjk you for the understanding ;)

Jeno: ill be there in.. 5 mins?

You: ill be here waiting!

You were smiling like crazy reading his texts. All you did was blushing and heart skipping while replying to him. He was so cute. And it's the first time you guys exchange texts. And he did it first! (how its a big deal for you)

Then there he is. Entering the cafe with a little skip and making a bee line to your table then sit down in front of you. 

"Right on time." He said jokingly. You just chuckled at him.

"Sooo what's up? What is it that you wanted to talk about in your very packed schedule, busy bee?"

He exhaled harshly before replying. "Nothing. Just wanna get out and have some fresh air."

He averted his gaze to yours before continue, "with my new friend." 

You raised one of your eyebrows at the boy. "Yeah? I thought you already forgot me because i was just simply a girl that worked at your company," you talk as you fold your hands.

"Why would i? I'll remember you anyway. You once fell in front of me when you were about to open some door and that actually was funny as hell. Shouldn't laugh but i can't help it. Oops. Should have not told you this part too..."

Your face heated in a second, and yes, you did that and it was humiliating and you felt very stupid. That time you were about to enter the conference room at the company building, but jeno (also the other members were there) was opening the door at the same time, unfortunately you stumbled on your feet and ended up kneeling at his.

He take a glance at you again then continue. "And you're pretty pretty."

You immediately looked up to him. You can't explain how his sudden confession affect you so much and leave your heart throbbing like crazy. 

Fortunately you can keep your act.

You chuckled and replied, "and what's that supposed to mean."

"I'm just saying that you're beautiful." 

He surely knows how to mess with your heart.

"And i'm getting worried that your eyes might have a problem," you laughed, more to laughing at yourself.

"No. I meant it."

You looked at him again, flustered, and he smiled when he saw you taken aback. A mischievous smile to be exact.

"Are you flirting with me?" Of course you were kidding. Asking that kind of question sounds nonchalant, even have no shame. But you had nothing to lose anyway.

"Would you accept it?" 

You blinked rapidly, your heart beating so fast in your chest, your palms were sweaty. He got you questioning yourself on how you can not fall for him even more? It's getting even deeper every minute you spend your time with him. He's dangerous. 

You were stunned for a moment. You felt like your cheeks burned, they're emitting flame. Your head short circuited for a while yet all you can think about is jeno. Jeno jeno jeno and jeno. The moment you can't hold it back from spilling, you just let it burst.

"I like you." 

Oh, you don't even care anymore about your image. The moment you spit that you felt like the most stupid, dense person alive on earth.

"I know." 

He responded in a heartbeat, and you felt fire burn a hole into you.

"You what?"

"I said i know. I noticed. And i do to."

"I'm so lost." You started to believe that you're out of your mind.

"I'm saying that i like you too."

Your pupils doesn't even falter when you stare at his face. You might just scream or gasp or even cry, but you were too stunned to speak, the way you were so calm also surprised yourself. You shake your head as you doubt your hearing and gave him a bitter smile.

"You're joking."

"Yes." 

Your eyes widen from his answer. He's such a prankster. 

"Jeno!"

He laughed. His laugh is so carefree but feels shy at the same time, that is just screaming lee jeno so much.

"So what am i supposed to say? You already heard me."

"I'm just trying to seek clarity." You narrow your eyes playfully. Now you don't even know where the confidence in you came from.

"You're my clarity." 

Now that sounds straight up came from a song lyric.

This whole time you think that you're crazy for wanting lee jeno, but here you are having a little cafe date and knowing him to have the same feeling as you are.

-

"Ah!" you squeal as your head thud against the hard surface.

"Sorry," jeno apologized as he giggled, then continue to peppering kisses down your neck.

Both of you were alone in a room at the backstage, making out like crazy before he bring you to the nearest table and pin you down. You sigh blissfully, thanking heaven every time your bodies this close, that you finally have jeno for your own and not anybody else. It's not the first time that he finally touched you, but every single one of his touches feels like the first time.

Oh, of course that didn't just happen in a night. He's been so sweet and kind to you that you mistaken his deed as something more than platonic relationship.

He bought you food. He told the manager to drop you off at your apartment at night when the schedule's over. You both go to the staff's cafeteria and eat lunch together. You offer him to go cycling together when he's off, and he did. He lent you his airpods when you lost one. You brewed his morning coffee. He called you one night and said that he's missing you. You asked him if you can do the same, texting or calling him as a normal friend would do despite both of your jobs. And that one night where he sneaked out to your apartment just to say that he wanted you.

That moment you thought everything is indeed possible. 

"Jen! Wait!"

He's currently railing you stupid at the backstage.

Now both of your hands were on the wall, legs spread open for him to easily pound you from the back. 

"Shit, this pussy's so tight." He slowed down, dragging his cock precise and keen, watching how his length appeared then disappeared inside your pussy.

"You like that baby?"

Your ears are buzzing, eyes fluttering, you only mewl and all you can hear is squelching sounds from how wet your pussy is before he sped up, skins clapping resonated all over the room.

When you didn't answered, he stopped and brings your hair to a ponytail then yanked your head up so your back is now against him as he whispered, "i said, am i fucking you good, little slut?" Well he can be cruel sometimes, but both of you know his mouth isn't that dirty on daily basis. He's just having his moment.

"Fuck yes," you finally speak.

Jeno railed into you again, he prop you to stand up, right hand on your hip, clamping so hard it'll leave bruises, and left hand grasping at your jaw to make you face him, his lips ghosting between your ear and lips, heavy breathing and all.

When he brushed against your earlobe, he whispered right onto your ear, "open your fucking mouth."

You obliged, as he bent your neck back and you presented all of yourself in front of him, he spit into your mouth. "Perfect. Keep it there like a good girl you are." 

Jeno started to pick up pace again, this time hitting your spot deliciously over and over, sending you to the cloud nine.

You agape as you moan, all while your mouth full of your and his spit, nonetheless making an effort to keep jeno's words but you're already drooling all over your chin.

"J-jen.."

"Shh, no need to say a thing baby girl, keep your pretty mouth shut."

Jeno suddenly lift you up and prop your back against the table. He's hovering over you, tapping your cheek, oblige you to open your mouth again, and spit another glob into yours.

"Now keep that warm and safe, you could do that, right angel?"

He asked and you only nodded in response. "That's it. Now let me make you feel good."

He spread your dangling legs by pushing on your thighs then dragging his hard and big cock along your slit, making a quite lubrication.

You're a whiny mess, never in your life you thought you'd have sex with lee jeno in a random room on their backstage, and he's pretty wild at the moment.

Before you can process a thing, he's already on his knee, eating you out slowly. You tug at his hair and hoist your hip up, but he's keeping you in place. He's taking his time, kitten licking at your opening with a slow pace, sucking softly at the clit, but it already making you tremble and wanting more. He's keeping the act for a while before the frustrations hit you.

"Jeno, hurry the fuck up."

He stop doing his ministrations, and as he pissed off, he suddenly lift you up again, your front pushed to the nearest wall.

"What did i just say to you? Shut your fucking mouth. Don't fucking speak. Why did you speak?"

He landed a couple of hard slap against your ass, making you yelp and shriek, "i-m sorry, please," your head drooped, your body trembling, but not from fear.

It's excitement.

Another slap on your ass. "Please what? Tell me, angel, what is it?

He kneaded your flesh and put his length between your ass cheek, nuzzling it sensually, and it made you bite your lip hard, can't take his teasing no more.

"Please," you almost sob. "Please, jeno, fuck me."

You beg, and he immediately bend you fully over again, both of his hands were on your hips as he fuck you into oblivion.

"Princess wanna get fucked. What she wants, she gets." 

He kissed his teeth before he rammed into you, hitting that sweet spot precisely over and over again it felt so good. Your hands and legs almost gave up, but he grabbed your hip in place. As you moan and scream for him, he keep chanting that he want you to come for him.

"Jeno, i'm fucking close- fuck," your hair is tangled, you're a drooling mess, your eyes rolled up. He fuck you so good it leave you dumb. Jeno's hips never once falter, he keep fucking into you rapidly as you whine non stop.

"Fuck, come all over me. Come on," he encouraged you.

"Coming!" You're a moaning mess, pussy can't help but tightened around him, making him curse under his breath. He continue to pistoning as he chasing his high, prolonged your own orgasm.

"Fuck, gonna cum," his thrust remain steady until it finally stopped, buried so deep inside you as he fill you up to the brim. Jeno finally pulled out, your hands and elbow propped against the wall as you arched your back while bending over, giving him a full sight of your ass and pussy overflowing with his cum. 

"Shit.." jeno cursed as he ran a hand through his fringe.

You felt your bodies emitting fog from the fever, glistening with sweat.

Just after that, you both heard a knock and someone's shouting.

"Are you guys done there? Jeno, get your loud ass out there right now, we're running out of time." 

You wouldn't miss whose voice it was.

It's fucking na jaemin. You felt embarrassment creep down your spine when you realized he found out, although nothing like the rest of the members doesn't know about the relationship you two have. But still, caught red handed fucking in the backstage with his band mate is a little bit..

"That's embarrassing.." you sigh while covering your face, making jeno chuckled as he patted your head.

"He'll get used to it." He smiled like a puppy, as he not merely fuck you senseless just now.

-

You said that it's embarrassing. But it seems like you're liking how unusual things did give you some thrilling sensations you can't explain. Since then, you've had sex with jeno in the void meeting room when everybody's leaving from work. It's giving you anxiety on what if someone's barge in, or the worst-you'd get kicked out from the company and never ever get the same job even at the different place again-but funnily, you can't resist the good feeling jeno made you and the realization that you were actually enjoying the shit, eventually not giving any fuck if someone know.

Another day of you and jeno spending time together in the same room, giving some different kind of affections to each other. And you're just too afraid to say something; to ask him: 'what are we?' Because you couldn't be more happy with what's happening between you two now. And tonight is a bit different because you feel your heart ache in the way he hold you as he won't let go.

"Jeno.." you arched your back when his tongue trailed from your abdomen up to your breasts while he attempted to unclasp your bra.

After freeing the flesh, he mumbled in awe, "beautiful."

He latched his tongue on your nipple, swirling it with purpose, to make you even wet just for him, and him only, just like the way he liked it.

"Fuck, it feels so good, don't stop," you pulled on his hair, a signal for him to keep going. 

"Yeah? You like that, pretty girl?" Jeno kneaded on your swell as he sucked again on your nipple.

"Louder. Moan louder for me." And that's what you did. Your fucked up sounds is a music to his ears, railing him up to the extent where he just wanted to sink in you. 

Jeno cupped your sex, your panties were damp in arousal. "Shit, look at you. So fucking wet." He slid his fingers up and down your panties before he slipped his fingers in. You whimpered when his cold digit met your folds. He only play with your opening and clit, but it already drive you crazy. You're practically drooling, he's collecting your essence on his fingers before he bring it up to his mouth, tasting your arousal. You huff and puff, look already fucked up before him when he barely did anything.

"So pretty. So fucked up. So needy for me."

All you did is fucking whine. Lee jeno is driving you insane.

"Please," you plead. "Jeno,"

"Hm? What is it princess?" He asked with a sweet mocking tone.

"Fingers. Want your fingers inside me." You sternly told him, but your gaze was infirm.

He chuckled then replied, "of course baby, you'll have it. But later. I have to taste you first. Will you let me?"

He asked for your permission and what on earth is stopping you from letting him eat you out? Of course you would never say no.

"Pleasee," your whiny voice made him smile from ear to ear in satisfaction.

"Love it when you beg."

Jeno get down to eye level with your pussy before dive in. Your hips wouldn't stop thrusting up to him and pulling his hair, his strong hands looping on your thighs. At this rate his face buried deep between you legs and tongue prod into your cunt, exploring your hole, lips trying so hard to swallow you up, open mouthed kiss at your pussy, sucking and lapping. He's eating you out like there's no tomorrow. 

"Fuck, i think i'm gonna cum."

Jeno chuckled, "already? So spoilt."

Jeno bring his fingers down and curled the digit expertly inside your pussy, you're wiggling like crazy when he reached that sweet spot that got your pussy tightening around him, then he sucked your clit hard, made you cum in instant at his doing.

You gradually came down from your high and stared at him in the eye, begging.

"Jeno, please, let me suck you off."

He feels like he's flying up the cloud seeing you prettily begged for him. Then he smiled, "can't say no to a pretty girl like you."

You bit your lip before you kneeled in front of him, taking a hand of his hard cock and kissed the tip. You hold onto his balls while you licked and sucked along his shaft until your tongue met with the tip, then sink into his cock, swallowing him whole. You bobbed your head up and down, sucking in intensity. He groaned and bring his hand through your hair, while he got his head thrown back against the headboard.

"You're doing so good baby, keep going."

He hissed painfully, his muscles clenched and his grab on your hair is getting tight. Your left hand massaging his balls, mouth sucking at the tip, the other hand stroking the rest of his shaft.

"Fuck, i'm not gonna last." He hold your head and thrust into your mouth, chasing his high. Your gagged sound heard all over the room, eyes pricked from tears. His groan went louder and that's when he came all over your mouth, and you swallowed all of his seed like a good girl, his good girl.

You lap all of his fluid, cleaning his cock clean, and lick your own lips.

"God you're pretty." His stare full with admiration, then he caged you between his arms, locked your lips with his in a passionate kiss. Tongue dancing with each other, nipping at one's lip. Both of you moan into the kiss, until he break it first.

Your back arched so high, hips pressed against his own, wanted more just than kissing him, but he pushed your belly down and leaned in.

"Need you now. Need to make love to you."

Once again, your heart sank at his confession. You're already tearing up as he pushed his big cock into you, soon picking up a steady pace to thrust between your wall, all while kissing you out. His kiss felt so soft and sweet, but also fragile at the same time. Your bodies met, no space in between. You hug him tightly, so afraid that he might just run away or disappear in the blink of an eye. He made you feel so good you're crying, can't even think or talk straight, your mind felt numb.

That night, you remembered vividly the last word he said before you passed out.

"I love you."

-

The rainy night made you feel all lazy. You wouldn't get up from bed if you just didn't feel the urge to go to the convenience store and fulfill your craving with some warm food. You're definitely starving.

You take out your umbrella because it's still raining, but as you nearly arrived, it's became a drizzle before it came to a stop.

You fold your umbrella as you walk closer, but before entering the place, you definitely saw jeno at the dark aisle between two buildings; making out with who the fuck you don't care, as if someone could've not just pass by and saw them two passionately changing spits.

You froze in your place, can't even walk any closer to where jeno was. You felt anger bubbling up to your chest and at the same time, you can't help your heart from breaking into pieces.

But as someone's controlling you, you suddenly stomped on your feet, making a way to them with balled fists, and you nearly scream when you call him out.

"Jeno."

The two broke the kiss after couple of seconds as if they're unbothered, both dripping from the drizzle. He turned at you, eyes dark and indicating that he wasn't even surprised to see you there. 

But then he opened his mouth, "how th-"

"What the fuck?" You cut him before he talk, spitting your anger out, voice all husky and spiteful, extremely vulnerable at the same time.

"Who the fuck is that?" Your eyes burned from restraining tears roll down your cheeks.

"What happened with the other days when we literally spent time together? Yesterday, you just- we just- fuck, i- i thought you just said that you lo-"

You can't help but blubbering, can't even say the last word you meant from spilling out. It's too much.

The girl he was making out with tried to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist.

You scoffed, speechless.

Did he just stop her?

Sickeningly, he just walked by you as he made a way out while dragging her with him.

You swear you just felt so fucking dumbfounded. He didn't even say a word since earlier.

When you can't hold your tears back again, you break out and scream his name out. 

"LEE JENO!"

He looked back from his shoulder, but he still put the same blank expression in front of you before he chuckled.

"Well. Looks like i've got nothing to explain since you already saw it."

Still standing with the balled fists, you can't even talk as you were trying so hard to figure things out. Why the fuck did he do this? Did this to you?

"I believe you're capable enough to think with your little brain, princess."

Suddenly, the rain started to pouring again, leaving you all soaked up gradually.

He's giving you the nastiest smile he have ever showed you as he made his getaway with the girl and said,

"Wake the fuck up. I have never loved you."

―

And that's when you wake up from your dreams.

As your eyes fluttered, you felt tears running from the corner of your eyes, making your sideburns damp uncomfortably.

This fucking whole thing is a dream. A dream that's so real.

No wonder that all of it was happening so fast; and absurd.

Now you can't even think of jeno the same way anymore if you see him at work. 

You checked your phone. Of course it's december. You laughed bitterly at yourself when you realized you trapped with jeno in your dreams when it's fucking summer. You swear you can even feel the heat. It just felt so true.

You get up on your elbows then cursed under your breath before muttered to yourself, "never thought you'd love and hurt me at the same time."

And it's not even in the real world.

Is it better because it's just a dream? Or is it not because the real thing is even more an awful truth you need to accept?

That's when you realized that the meaning of impossible is literally as it is. It's the time for you to understand that both of you is poles apart, that he is different.

You'll never ever get him, and you need to forget him; as he might already forget you.

[mochinomnoms]

francesca (1K Follower Special Event)

art: “hold me, dear” by raiain

“Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I” — Hozier, Francesca from “Unreal Unearth” Their love for you is so overwhelming, so profuse, their hunger for love is worse than their hunger for food, water, or sleep. They yearn for you and your affections, like a baby yearns for the embrace of their parents. From the gods above, to the demons below, there is no where that can house or comprehend the love you share with them. spotify playlist

A song fic event to celebrate over 1,000 followers!

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Anyone can use this event and prompts on their own blog! Tag me in so I can read all your stories!

This event will be for TWST on my end, others are free to use for whatever they'd like!

All request will be up to 500 words, with a max of 3 characters per request

Chose one prompt for each request with one song (randomly selected line will be used for the request), and indicate if you want romantic or platonic. You can also indicate if you want fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, nsfw etc.

Reader will default to gender-neutral unless asked otherwise

Dialogue Prompts (@mcflymemes: 1/2/3)

“It's funny. Sometimes I think I've already fallen in love with you as much as possible… and then we share a night like this.”

“I'm falling more and more in love with you every day.”

“Do you feel connected to me when we're together like that?”

“You made a few sounds I've never heard before.”

“Can I get you anything? Do you need me to do anything?”

“Touch me like that again.”

“You look so good like this.”

“Tell me when I can move.”

“It's like your body was built for mine.”

“You like that, don't you.”

“You don't know what that does to me.”

“Kiss me again, and don't stop this time.”

“I can't bear the thought of living without you.”

“You complete me.”

“I want all of you. Every piece of you.”

“I won't lose you again.”

“You're the most important person I have ever known.”

“The universe gave you to me.”

“Can I kiss you again? I promise I won't get carried away.”

“Where you go, I follow.”

Song Selection

Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”; “Wasteland, Baby!”; “Nina Cried Power — EP”

De Selby (Part 1)

De Selby (Part 2)

Francesca

Eat Your Young

First Light

Movement

Talk

Be

Sunlight

NFWMB

Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)

Rio Romero, “Good God!”

Inarticulation

Nothing's New

Twice

Eyedress, “Let's Skip to the Wedding”

Romantic Lover

Jealous

Kiss Me Like It's the First Time

Ricky Montgomery, “Montgomery Ricky”

Line Without a Hook

My Heart Is Buried in Venice

Mr. Loverman

Kali Uchis, “Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios)”

la luna enamorada

telepatía

Misc. Artists

See You Again (Tyler, The Creator, “Flower Boy”)

Me Gustas Tu (Manu Chao, “Próxima Estación: Esperanza”)

Die For You (The Weeknd, “Starboy”)

🎶 francesca masterlist 🎶

“It ain’t workin’ ‘cause you’re perfect”: jamil viper x gn!reader — #19

“And flew like a moth to you, sunlight, oh, sunlight”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #15

“Be like the love that discovered the sin”; “And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”; “If I could hold you for a minute/I'd go through it again”: jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“Y al contemplarla en su mirada”: azul ashengrotto x gn!reader — #4

“I always want your love”: ruggie bucchi x gn!reader — #19

“Oh, was it something I said to make you feel like you're a burden”; “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around”: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto (separate) x gn!reader — #15 [PENDING]

“Si te tuviera de frente, la mente te la volaría”; “You know that I can see right through you”: deuce spade, lilia vanrouge (separate) x gn!reader — #9 [QUEUED]

“'Cause we've found ourselves in quite a situation”: silver x gn!reader — #9

“The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust”; “But after this, I'm never gonna be the same”: jade leech, floyd leech (separate) x gn!reader — #3

“It's got nothing to do with us”: divus crewel x gn!reader — #16

“One look is all it takes”: floyd leech x afab gn!reader — #15

“I'm not always right”; “It's gonna happen sometimes”; “I don't think of giving up”: azul ashengrotto, riddle rosehearts, kalim al-asim (separate) x f!reader — #14

“You know I'm just a flight away”: floyd leech x gn!reader — #7

“I can hear your thoughts like a melody”: kalim al-asim x gn!reader — #19

“I wish I could fall in love with you again”; “I know I can fall in love”; “I can only hope that’s what you are craving too”: jack howl, sebek zigvolt, silver (separate) x gn!reader — #19

“Que se podría hacer el amor por telepatía”: jade leech x gn!reader — #4

“And are you pretty or handsome? My words are on ransom”; “With you by my side is where I wanna stand”: trey clover, ruggie bucchi (separate) x gn!reader — #11

“Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free”: silver x gn!reader — #15

“La venganza es dulce, ¿sabes? (Dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce, dulce)”: ace trappola, deuce space (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“I am just a line without a—”; “And if I've lost my charm / Apologies due, no harm”; “Forgive me, I'm not naïve”: floyd leech, azul ashengrotto, jade leech (separate) x gn!reader — #19 & #16

“Me gusta volver, me gustas tú”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

“Nothing fucks with my baby”; “I'd wanna be felled by you”: leona kingscholar, vil schoenheit (separate) x gn!reader — #16

“And I've found hope in a heart attack”: jack howl x gn!reader — #13

Bonus:

“Heaven is not fit to hold a love like you and I”: ace trappola, deuce spade (poly) x gn!reader — #1

“¿Qué horas son, mi corazón?”: grim (platonic) x gn!reader — #20

[sidekick-hero]

Catch me like the falling rain

(steddie | explicit | 12.2k | Sequel to my first runner!Steve fic)

Eddie leans his head on Steve's shoulder, chuckles a little, and shakes his head, "I can't believe this is happening.”

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him closer and asks in a soft voice, “What do you mean?”

Eddie lifts his head from Steve's shoulder to meet his eyes. "Three hours ago I thought you hated my guts, and now we're standing naked in your bathroom after you literally blew my goddamn mind. It's unreal, man.”

“I never hated you, Eddie.”

Or: The one where there is running and they are both wet. A lot. They make it work.

It's been three weeks, four days and fifteen hours since Steve left Eddie's trailer after one of the most amazing, albeit unexpected, orgasms of his life.

That sounds a lot better in his head than the fact that it's also been three weeks, four days and fifteen hours since he stole out of Eddie's trailer in the wee hours of the morning, leaving a still-sleeping Eddie behind.

If you asked him, he couldn't tell you why he did it. Sure, he could tell you all about how he couldn't bring himself to wake Eddie up, could tell you how peaceful Eddie had looked, with the rising sun bathing his room in soft, warm light, illuminating his sleeping face, relaxed and with a tiny bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, black curls a wild mess around his head, spilling onto the white and surprisingly fluffy pillows. It wasn't an attractive look per se, but like so many things, it worked for Eddie.

Steve had no idea why the sight made his insides churn with something almost unpleasant, but he knew he had to get out of there before Eddie woke up and wanted to talk.

Eddie's a good guy, Steve knows that. Eddie cares. He doesn't deserve Steve's "It's not you, it's me" speech, which even to Steve's own ears sounds stale and insincere. I like you, but I think we're better off as friends. It was just two guys hooking up, no big deal. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea.

And just. No. No way was he going to put them both through that awkward mess.

So he ran.

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

And he kept on running.

Every day, he would put on his running clothes, close the door behind him, and just - run. For hours. Sunshine, rain, light or dark. It didn't matter, as long as he could leave Steve Harrington behind for a while. Steve with his nightmares, his absent parents and the big empty house, Steve with his migraines and the friends he sometimes wondered would leave him too if he stopped being useful. Steve with his dead-end job, Steve with all those tangled feelings for another boy who had taken care of him in more ways than one.

Outrunning that Steve was what kept him going, day after day.

It helped, to a degree. If he ran fast enough, far enough, his mind would shut up. He would get lost in the tap, tap, tap of his feet on the ground, his mind focused on putting one foot in front of the other, dodging roots and low-hanging branches, finding his way through the woods.

He wished he didn't have to stop running, that he didn't have to go home and shower and eat and sleep and work.

He wished he didn't have to be Steve again.

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

He didn't go back to the trailer park after - after.

"Hey, what about - do you want me to - y'know," Steve had nodded towards where Eddie's hard dick was straining against his jeans.

Eddie had looked at his face, avoiding his eyes, and said, "Nah, that's alright, you don't have to. Just get some rest, okay?" before heading for the bathroom.

Steve had sat on the couch where Eddie had just sucked his brains out of his dick and pulled his sweatpants up again.

Eddie hadn't offered to drive him home and Steve hadn't asked, so they had just shared Eddie's twin bed as they had so many times before.

Lying on their backs in the dark, close enough on the small bed that their arms touched, Steve had waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered, because it never came.

"Night, Stevie," Eddie had said, turning on his side, facing away from him.

Steve had looked at the back of Eddie's head for a long time before he whispered, "Night, Eddie."

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

It wasn't easy to stay away. Not after weeks of Steve ending up at Eddie’s every time he put on his running shoes. His feet wanted to take him down familiar roads, his legs remembered the rhythm that brought them to their favorite resting place, his mind urged him to seek the safe haven it was used to finding in the form of Eddie's smile, gentle hands, and easy banter.

Hell, even his dick wanted him to follow his usual paths, remembering the way Eddie's mouth, Eddie's tongue, Eddie's throat had felt around it.

At first, it had just been to give them both some space. He hadn't been avoiding Eddie per se. He just happened to be busy when Eddie called to ask if he wanted to hang out, watch a movie, or go swimming at the quarry (he wondered since when Eddie wanted to go swimming of all things).

"Hey Steve-O, long time no see. I was wondering if you were kidnapped or something. Haven’t seen you around in a while. Think the kids miss you, man."

"Hey. Yeah, no, no kidnapping, just busy. I got a job, y’know." Low blow, he knew that. Eddie wanted a job, he tried really hard, but nobody in Hawkins wanted to hire a former murder suspect.

"Yeah, sure, Stevie. I just - never mind. Maybe next week, yeah?"

"Sure, I'll give you a call. Listen, I gotta go."

"Okay, I'll be here whenever. Take care."

The longer he stayed away, the harder it became to approach Eddie. They went from seeing each other almost every day to not seeing each other at all.

When Steve didn't call back the next week, Eddie showed up at his house. It was one of those Eddie things that Steve is never going to get used to, like him stocking up on dextrose and reading books about running. It's hard to wrap his head around the magnitude of it, even now.

Because - Steve had brushed him off, rudely so, and yet here Eddie was, seeking him out anyway. Going out of his way for Steve again, wearing his heart on his sleeve, showing Steve his underbelly. It had felt endearing, sprawled out on Eddie's couch, in Eddie's lap, but now Steve can't help but think of Tommy and Carol. He can still hear their jeering voices as they mocked his feelings for Nancy, the way he had cared for her.

Aww, Steve has a heart. He’s in loooooove.

Steve pretended he wasn’t home, hiding in his mother's broom closet with his arm around his knees, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking shallow breaths.

His Beemer was parked in the driveway, and Steve was sure Eddie had seen it.

Eddie rang the doorbell five times.

Steve didn't hear the van pull away from the curb in front of his house for another 20 minutes.

He didn't leave the closet for over an hour.

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

Steve figured they would just see each other again at some group thing or whatever. Things would be back to normal in no time. He could take some time to figure things out. Time to fucking think about what it all means, what he feels for Eddie, and where he wants things to go with him. But Steve can't do all that if he has to look at him. He just... He can't.

So he gets up, he works, he runs. Rinse, repeat.

He barely sleeps those three weeks, four days and fifteen hours. Exhaustion knocks him out for a few hours here and there, and that's enough to keep him going.

That's what he tells himself.

It's fine.

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

He makes it ten more days like this.

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

The path in front of him winds gently uphill, the slopes lined with patches of dry dirt that frame the roots sticking out of the ground, the churned earth the only sign that he's not the first person to find this particular trail. It's heavily overgrown with bushes and grass, barely visible, and Steve thinks it must have been a while since anyone followed it. His feet carry him along, ducking under low-hanging branches, skipping over rocks and roots without thinking.

He should be concentrating on the path ahead, but his mind dwells on the past.

You read a book about running for me.

I did.

A rock juts out to his right, so he leaps to his left, not slowing down at all. If anything, he picks up speed.

You wait for me, every day, to come by. You take care of me.

I do.

The path winds up and up, and his legs burn with the effort to carry him forward, upward, while his mind refuses to stop playing that goddamn memory back to him. Again.

You want to touch me.

I do. So bad, Steve. Want to touch you so bad.

There's a branch in his way and he barely avoids it by leaping over it, landing on a stone and almost twisting his ankle. But he catches himself and stumbles a few feet before getting his feet back into their former rhythm.

He wills his mind to shut the fuck up, but no one ever listens to him, including himself.

I want you to. Please, Eddie. Touch me.

His foot catches a root, partially hidden by leaves and dirt, and he goes down. Hard. He breaks his fall with his hands, scraping his palms, but his knees take the brunt of it. The pain is surprising in its intensity, and he drops to the ground, rolling onto his back.

After literally blowing Steve's mind, why did Eddie pull back? Was it a heat of the moment thing that Eddie regretted the second it was done? Did Steve regret it?

"FUCK!" he yells into the cloudy sky above him, his voice hoarse and a group of birds flee from their hiding place, startled by the loud noises.

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

When things come to a head, Steve is not much further along in figuring out what the hell it is he wants.

To be honest, he had expected Robin or Dustin to call him on his bullshit earlier. Not that they didn't try. It only takes so long for your best friends to notice that something is wrong with you. Like excuses piling up to skip group outings: more shifts, longer runs, exhaustion, migraines. It's all true, but it's also a welcome way to get out of things that might involve Eddie. But after years of it, Steve has gotten good at dodging their questions, diverting their attention from him to other things.

He does tell Robin, in the end, an abridged version, of course, but she didn't have the answers he was looking for. Just more questions to add to his growing pile.

"So you slept with Eddie? Our friend Eddie? Our male friend Eddie?"

Wincing at the piercing pitch of her voice, he said, "Well, sort of? Not all the way, we just —"

"No need for details, Dingus. I get the gist. But why?"

He was nice. He cared. He wanted me.

"I don't know, Robs. It just, y'know, happened?"

"You mean you slipped and bumped his dick with yours?" They both grimaced at her choice of words. "And what happens now?" Straight to the point. He could count on Robin to be blunt with him, and he loved her for it.

"I have no idea. I thought we would go back to the way things were."

“Do you want that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does Eddie want that?”

“I don’t know.”

The truth, or as much truth as there is when it comes to these things, is that Steve wants guarantees. He wants to be sure. Sure that letting Eddie in would end happily. Sure it wouldn't be bullshit. Sure they won’t regret it.

Sure that this time Steve Harrington wouldn't be the shitty boyfriend left behind.

"Okay, you don't know. I get it, Steve. I do. But,” she sighs heavily, “Steve, what you're doing - it's cruel. At least talk to him. Maybe you don't have to know, just don't leave him in the dark like this. It's still Eddie.”

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

It's as if the universe wants to emphasize Robin's point, because on his next day off, he's awakened by the ringing of the phone. He considers ignoring it, groggy from another night of tossing and turning, but it keeps ringing. After the sixth ring, he groans, reaches for the phone next to his bed, and answers it with a grouchy, "This better be good," expecting either Dustin or Robin on the other end.

Instead, a dry chuckle greets him and a familiar voice, much deeper than Dustin's or Robin's, says, "Jesus, who pissed in your coffee? That how you answer the phone?"

He jerks up, pulling on the phone cord and almost sending the whole thing crashing to the floor. "Uh, hey, Eddie."

"Oh, so he is alive. I'll call the search party off."

Eddie sounds pissed, and Steve isn't awake enough to deal with this shit in any sensible way, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, "Yeah, because you're so friendly with the cops here."

"Thanks for the reminder, Harrington," Eddie bites out, "You have such a way with words." His voice drips with sarcasm and Steve wonders where they went so horribly wrong, wonders when he became Harrington again. Wonders if this is how it’s going to be from now on.

Steve takes a shuddering breath, not knowing what to say to make things right again.

Eddie just continues, as if he never expected an answer anyway. "Look, that was shitty. It's just, I - I don't know what I - or I do, but I don't understand - shit". In his mind, Steve can see Eddie pressing his hand to his eye, frustration in every line of his face. "Can we talk, man?" When Steve doesn't answer right away, Eddie adds in a thin voice that doesn't sound like his own, "Please. This is driving me crazy."

Thinking back to what Robin told him, What you're doing - it's cruel, Steve relents, "Okay, fine. Can it wait another hour? I need to go on a run first."

"Sure, it's been waiting over a month. What's another hour, right?"

"Eddie —"

"See ya in an hour, Harrington."

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

Steve’s not running away. He isn't. He survived fighting an actual monster from another dimension, more than once, so he's not running away from talking to a boy who blew him once and then wouldn't let Steve touch him in return.

His legs burn from the exertion, but he pushes himself to go faster.

The sky had opened up just minutes after he'd walked out the door, and it would have been easy to go back, to take a shower, to pace the living room floor until Eddie showed up asking for answers he didn't have.

He didn't turn around, but let his feet carry him into the woods behind his house, following now familiar trails. The rain that pours down relentlessly hurts his face and arms, like grains of ice pricking his skin. He's soaked to the bone, his shoes making that squelching sound with every step he takes, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin, only heavier, dragging him down. He doesn't care.

He doesn't care about the aching in his legs, the burning in his lungs, the way he can barely see where he's going, water and hair in his eyes. He just runs and runs and runs.

There's an opening to a path he's never been on before, just a few steps ahead to his right. The storm drowns out all sense of time and space. He's just a body, just existing, seemingly alone in a world filled with rain. He feels it on his skin, hears the droning sound of it coming down around him, he smells it in the air and tastes it in his mouth as it runs down his face.

He turns right and follows the path.

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

When he finally turns around and heads home, it's still raining. It has eased up a bit, not quite a drizzle, but no longer a downpour. It's easier to see, easier to navigate, and he makes good time. Still, he has the feeling it's been more than an hour since Eddie hung up on him.

Maybe a mile to go before he's back home is when he hears it. A voice. A voice calling, screaming his name, thin and almost breaking.

"Steve!" Coming from his right. He thinks. It's hard to tell, the forest swallows most sounds around him. Still, he turns to where he thinks the voice is coming from and trots towards it. He's afraid of running too far in the wrong direction, but he doesn't have to worry as the voice grows louder, closer.

"Steve, where are you?" The voice trembles, and Steve thinks he hears tears in it. He picks up speed again, his light jog becoming almost a sprint.

Only a few feet in front of him, he sees him, leaning against a tree, hunched over, chest heaving. Wet tangles of black hair obscure his face, but Steve would recognize him anywhere.

The unexpected sight stops him in mid-stride, gasping in surprise.

"Eddie!" Eddie lifts his head at the sound, searching for the source.

“Over here!" Steve calls, waving as he starts running again.

This time, Eddie sees him and pushes away from the tree. He starts toward Steve and stumbles, his legs buckling under his weight.

Steve’s there to catch him.

He wraps his arms around Eddie's middle and presses himself close to the shivering body in his arms, taking most of Eddie's weight. Eddie is soaking wet, just like Steve, but he's also gasping for air, clinging to Steve's back like a man drowning. Steve makes soothing sounds, rocking them slowly from side to side to calm Eddie from his panicky state.

"Shhhhh. Hey, Eddie, it's okay. It's me, it's Steve. Everything's okay. You're okay. I’m okay. Just breathe, slow and easy." He keeps his voice low, murmuring the words into Eddie's ear, his cheek pressed against the wet strands of his hair. Eddie's breathing gradually slows, his chest no longer heaving against Steve's. He's still shaking like a leaf, but Steve is taking all the progress he can get. He presses even closer, head to toe, knowing that deep pressure always helps him to calm down. "That's it. Slow and easy. Deep breaths, just like that."

The downpour has started again, but Steve doesn't care, just holds Eddie close and gently sways them to a rhythm only he can hear in the sound of the falling rain.

Steve keeps his arms around Eddie, who seems to be unable to stop shivering, and asks the question that has been on the tip of his tongue since he found Eddie, "What are you doing out here?" It comes out more accusatory than he means, but he lets the question hang in the air between them.

Eddie shivers harder in his arms, inching closer and closer to Steve's warm body. It takes the sting out of his words when he bites out, "I've been looking for you, asshole."

Steve kind of figured, but that's not really what he's asking, he needs to know — "Why?"

Eddie leans back enough to meet Steve's eyes. "It's been two hours, Steve, and with the rain, I was... I was worried," Eddie's teeth start to chatter with the cold, but he presses on, "that something might have happened. Like you slipped and got another concussion or something."

"You were worried about me?"

Eddie's eyebrow arch in disbelief, his voice serious even through the chattering of his teeth, "Steve. C'mon, man, you're not as thick as the kids make you out to be." The chattering gets worse with every word, and Steve notices that Eddie's lips have turned blue. He needs to warm Eddie up, fast, because his own wet skin isn't going to do the job.

"Let's go back to the house. Talk more after we get warmed up, okay?"

Eddie nods, but doesn't untangle himself from Steve, his only source of warmth. Chuckling, Steve keeps one arm around Eddie's waist and turns them forward. "Come on, man, the sooner we get home, the sooner you can take a hot shower." That perks Eddie up enough to start walking. Steve helps as best he can, even with the exhaustion he feels creeping in. If Eddie's right, he's been running a lot longer than he thought. As the adrenaline starts to drain from his body, he can feel how tired his body is. Still, Eddie needs him. It's Steve's fault that he's here in the first place, wet and shivering and miserable. All because he was worried about Steve.

The knowledge sits heavy in his chest and gives him the strength he needs to half-walk, half-drag Eddie towards his house. They make good progress, but about a quarter of a mile from their destination, Eddie trips over a rock and his legs give way under him. Steve catches him, sort of; he breaks the fall with his body, making it his knees that hit the ground, not Eddie's. His heart thunders in his chest, surprised that Eddie almost fell, and the shock is enough to revive him.

"Hey, how about you hop on, huh? It's not far, I can carry you." He gestures to his back since he's already on his knees.

Eddie looks at him doubtfully, "You're joking."

"No, I'm not. Seriously, hop on."

"Thanks for the gracious offer, but I'm not an invalid, I can walk." It would be more convincing if Steve wasn't kneeling on the ground with most of Eddie's weight leaning on him after Eddie almost went down.

Impatience makes Steve’s voice sound sharper than it was before when he says, "Obviously you can't, and we're never going to make it back like this, so for the love of God, stop being so goddamn stubborn and hop on."

Eddie hesitates for another second before he lets out a defeated sigh and climbs onto Steve's back, careful with his long limbs.

He wraps his legs around Steve's middle and puts one arm around Steve's shoulders, the other across his torso from under Steve's left arm. Steve grips Eddie's thighs and says in a strained voice, "Buckle up, buttercup."

Eddie snorts and Steve is glad to see that he hasn't lost his sense of humor in the fucking cold. He slowly stands, his legs protesting under the added weight, but he ignores it. One foot after the other. He can do this. He can take care of Eddie the way Eddie took care of him.

The first few steps are hard, causing him to sway slightly from side to side, but he finds his footing. Eddie clings to him like a wet blanket, still shivering, but safe. He rests his chin on Steve's shoulder and says, so softly that Steve almost doesn't hear him, "Thanks for carrying me, Samwise the Brave.”

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They make it to the house in one piece, safe and sound, if looking a little worse for wear. Steve trots over to the patio doors, glad he left them unlocked. Toeing his wet and muddy shoes off, and waiting for Eddie to do the same with his legs crossed in front of Steve, he slides the door open and steps inside, Eddie still on his back. He doesn't even think about putting him down, just continues on to the stairs. It's not exactly warmer inside, as Steve never bothers to heat the place just for himself, but at least it's dry.

"Uh, Steve? You can put me down. I can walk, remember?"

"Shuddup, lemme do this for you."

For once in his life, Eddie listens, so Steve slowly climbs up the stairs. At the top, he turns right and walks straight through his room and into his en-suite bathroom.

At least it is warmer in here. The heating is always on because Steve likes the simple comfort of a warm bathroom, and right now it's heavenly to step into it. He hears a small sigh from behind him and thinks that Eddie agrees.

Once inside the spacious, pristine room, he lets Eddie slide down his back slowly, turning around as soon as Eddie's feet hit the floor. Steve grabs him by the elbows and holds him steady. "Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Seriously, Harrington, I can stand. You don't have to... take care of me or whatever." He doesn't even look at Steve, and his words should seem dismissive, designed to push Steve away, but Eddie's body speaks another language. He sways back into Steve's orbit and something clicks in Steve's brain.

As forward as Eddie had been the night of the blowjob, he was just as nervous and unsure as Steve. The thought calms something inside Steve, makes him want to be brave, because he knows what it feels like to wonder. Wondering if someone cares, wondering if his presence is wanted, wondering if he is too much or not enough. And even though he's still not sure where they stand, he knows he doesn't want Eddie to feel that way about him.

Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's elbows and moves him to sit on the closed toilet seat before he turns and starts the shower. He’s not looking at Eddie as he says, "But what if I want to?"

"Why would you, if you hate me so much that you have to run away?" The question throws Steve off balance so much that he almost stumbles into the shower stall. Not that his clothes could get any wetter, but it’s the principal of the thing.

And that's just — “I don't hate you. Christ, why would you think that?"

Eddie still refuses to look at him, head down, talking to his knees. "Gee, let me think. Maybe because you disappeared in the middle of the night, and didn’t bother saying goodbye? Because you avoided me like the damn plague? Refused to talk to me, like you would rather run off in a goddamn storm. And I - I didn't - I thought - I don't know what I thought. Maybe that there was a chance, however slim, that you wanted me too." He looks up at that, a bitter smile on his face, and Steve is no longer sure if the wetness on his face is just rainwater. "Silly me, huh?"

There are so many things Steve wants to say, so many things he needs to say, so he blurts out, "Then why didn't you touch me?"

At first the only answer he gets is a strange clicking sound that seems to get stuck in Eddie's throat. He clears it and tries again. "Excuse me, but what? If I remember correctly, and I do, vividly, I touched you quite a bit."

"You know, after, you just. You walked away. Didn't even want me to touch you. Did you regret it already?" Steve wraps his arms around himself and shivers. He didn’t want to say those words. They make him feel naked, exposed. Like giving up control of how this story is going to end. Being brave sucks, he thinks.

Eddie is on his feet in seconds, his legs still wobbling, but his face determined as he steps toward Steve. He stops right in front of him, his hand raised slightly, as if he wants to touch but doesn't dare. Steve wills him to reach out, to take his hand, anything.

But Eddie lets his hand sink back to his side and whispers in a trembling voice, "I - I wanted you to touch me. Of course I did,” he adds with nervous laughter, “Believe me, I barely made it to the bathroom to, y’know, take care of things,” gesturing to his crotch, and it makes Steve laugh, despite himself.

Giving him a smile that’s only somewhat shaky around the edges, Eddie goes on, “Man, I just - I got all in my head,” he gestures again, this time to his head, “I didn't want you to regret it, didn't want you to feel like you had to, y’know, reciprocate and then —” He sighs, puts his head in his hands, and Steve barely hears his next words, “I fucked it up.”

And Steve disagrees because he's the one who screwed up. He's the one who was afraid of things changing, even though his running away did just that, and not for the better. But maybe it’s not too late.

Steve steps forward, right into Eddie’s space, circles his wrists with his fingers and gently pulls his hands away from his face. He looks Eddie in the eyes and hopes Eddie believes him when he says, "But I wanted to.”

He steps even closer, their chests touching, his hands still wrapped around Eddie’s wrists and their faces so close he only has to whisper for Eddie to hear his next words, “I still want to."

With that, he presses his lips to Eddie’s.

Their kiss starts out slow, tentative. Like any first kiss, really, when you don't know what to expect, what's okay and what's not. When you want it to be good, so good, but you just don't know how. But there is nothing clumsy or awkward about the way their lips slide against each other; more a hesitant curiosity, both holding back, trying to get a feel for each other.

It's Eddie who finally makes the leap, bringing his hand to Steve's face and turning his head, aligning their lips in new and exciting ways as he coaxes Steve's open with his tongue. He's playful, teasing Steve's lower lip, the corner of his mouth, the front of his teeth.

At the gentle brush of Eddie's thumb across his cheekbone, Steve opens up and lets Eddie in.

After that, Steve loses track of things. There's Eddie's tongue in his mouth, licking inside as if he wants to learn everything about Steve by the way he tastes, and Steve thinks maybe he's onto something. Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's waist and pulls him closer, his other hand burying itself in long strands of wet hair to change the angle of their mouths. It's enough to make Eddie gasp in his arms, and he chases Eddie's tongue into his mouth, trying to get a taste for himself.

Their bodies touch from head to toe, every inch pressed together so that Steve can feel the next shiver running through Eddie. He wants to believe it's the way he's devouring Eddie's mouth, drinking the rainwater directly from his lips, but it's probably more due to the wet clothes that cling to their bodies.

Steve pulls back a little reluctantly, and says, "You need to get warmed up. Let me help you, yeah?" with his lips just a hair away from Eddie's. Eddie nods, his eyes dazed, as if he's not quite back from wherever he went during their kiss. Steve takes a step back and Eddie sways forward, following his warmth. Steve chuckles, deciding to hurry and get Eddie under the warm spray of the shower.

He moves to tug at the hem of Eddie's dripping shirt, and Eddie's eyes clear as he looks first at Steve, then at Steve's hands. "Is this okay?" Steve asks, wanting to make sure they're still on the same page here. His answer comes as Eddie raises his arms in a clear invitation, and Steve pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

The sound of wet clothes hitting the tile is so unexpectedly loud that they both turn to see where the shirt landed, and Steve chuckles at how much this all feels like a scene from a movie. When he turns back, he finds a real Eddie smile on Eddie's face. Steve always thought it was a nice smile. It makes Eddie's face look softer, and Steve wants to touch his finger to the dimple that peeks out from the corner of his mouth.

It's the first time he's seen Eddie shirtless since his wounds healed completely. He had seen a lot of them before, helping Wayne with Eddie's care whenever he could. He knows what his torso looked like, remembers the angry red wounds that healed so, so slowly. They're faded now, some still pink, others pale, almost white. His fingers itch to touch them, to see if they feel like his. They look like his, twin scars, two for the price of one.

He's startled out of his staring when Eddie's hands tug at his own shirt and his eyebrows quirk in question. This is supposed to be about Eddie, whose smile has slightly dimmed by Steve's reaction. His fingers play with the hem of Steve's shirt, and he watches them for a second before looking up at Steve to tell him, "You need to warm up too, sweetheart."

Steve's eyes widen at the nickname he hasn't heard from Eddie in so long. He’s glad they're back from Harrington to this. Steve searches Eddie's face for some sign that he's reading this right this time because he's not sure if he can go through this all over again. And his aching legs agree with him.

Some of that must be showing on his face, because Eddie leans forward and gives him a soft, savory kiss that goes a long way toward erasing those lingering doubts from Steve's mind. Steve nods as soon as their lips separate, and Eddie's hands slide under his shirt and up his cold skin until his shirt is bunched under his arms. He lifts them and Eddie slides off the piece of clothing as if it offended him.

Eddie’s eyes take in every inch of Steve's torso, and a soft shit that Steve is sure was not meant to be said out loud slips from Eddie's mouth. Steve knows what he looks like; he's had enough girls tell him he's hot, even with the ugly scars on his side and his back. But none of those girls have looked at him the way Eddie is looking at him now. Like Steve is everything he has ever wanted, scars and all. And maybe Steve isn't quite sure what he wants to come from this yet, but he thinks being wanted by Eddie is something he'd like to keep.

He takes a step toward Eddie, bringing their chests together, almost touching, and spreads his hands just above Eddie's waistband. His thumbs run along the pale, soft skin just above it, teasing along the protruding hip bones. Steve always runs hot, even now, and Eddie's skin feels so cold under his hands that he wants to wrap himself around him like a heated blanket. The warmth of Steve's touch makes Eddie lean into it even more, a small sound of pleasure coming from his throat, as if he wants nothing more than to chase that warmth, to chase the feeling of Steve.

One of Steve's hands goes to the buttons of Eddie's jeans, wrapping his big fingers around the top one and looking straight into Eddie's eyes as he pops it open. Eddie's eyes widen, the blackness of his pupils eating up more and more of the warm brown with each additional button Steve undoes. The air around them feels heavy, like just before a summer storm hits, charged with a tension so thick Steve can barely breathe.

It feels like he is in a strange trance, unable to take his eyes off of Eddie's as he gets his hands into the waistband of Eddie's wet jeans. Steve holds his gaze and slowly sinks to his knees as he pulls them down, taking Eddie's boxers with him. They pool around Eddie's ankles and Steve taps the back of his knees when Eddie makes no move to get out of them, just continues to stare at Steve.

"You gotta work with me on this, man. Come on. You're turning blue and that's really not your color."

Eddie snorts and steps out of the wet pants. "I’m sorry to have offended your sensitive sense of fashion. Won't happen again."

"Oh, I'm sure it will."

Eddie reaches down to cup Steve's cheek and pulls him back to his feet, their mouths meeting for another kiss. "Let me make it up to you then," he whispers against Steve's lips before reaching for Steve's sweatpants.

Read the rest on AO3

A heartfelt thank you to my partner in crime @legitcookie for your constant support, cheerleading, dirty mind and humor and roundabout lovable self. This wouldn't exist without you 💜

Also thank you to my Schwester @yournowheregirl for feeding me the best ideas - I was so fucking stuck and then you came around and gave me this idea 🫶

And last but not least, thank you @thefreakandthehair for running this challenge and for being so flexible about the way I filled my prompt "dancing in the rain" haha. You are a gift, Lex! 🥰

[silv3rswirls]

note: Don't ask what this is supposed to be or what even made me write this. Just came to me and this is what I ended up with. Also, I don't remember why I titled this Cicada in the first place? but its a cool name and we're keeping it

warnings: mental health, depression, references to verbal abuse, past relationships and breakups. memory loss, healing(?), open-ending

fic playlist

You had never seen so much fog in your life. 

It was thick, clouding around you as you dragged your feet cautiously over the pavement, unsure of what was before you. You didn’t know where you were. You had been driving aimlessly for a long time, trying to clear a racing mind and aching head. Suddenly an animal appeared in the middle of the winding road, you panicked and veered off the road to avoid it. You’d been walking since leaving your car to walk and hope for someone else to pass.

Then the fog began to roll in, and you found yourself even more lost than before. Until you ran into someone else, a young man who also seemed just as lost. He couldn’t remember his name, but he seemed safe enough to stick by, so you followed each other close. His car was just down the road he thought, you had thought the same hours ago.

Something was changing around you, you could feel it. You weren’t sure what was happening, but something had changed.

It felt unreal out here. Every building you passed looked so old and run down, you were in the city just hours ago, had you really veered this far off your path? It's impossible to have. You were running now, and you weren’t even sure why, but the guy seemed scared enough of whatever was chasing you. Whether it be man or beast, you could hear it snarling and nipping at your heels. 

“It’s going to kill us” He shouted, you were staring at his back, seemingly unable to catch up to run in his stride. 

“Doesn’t this all feel fake to you?” You ask, eyes shifting around. You couldn’t place it, but it felt off. All the time you wondered with him felt off. All the things you saw. Things that reminded you of your life, home, and self scattered about this ghost town.

“What are you doing?”

You had stopped, frown heavy on your lips as you cornered him. “What are you doing? It’s going to kill us if-”

“I understand now; what’s happening.” You interrupt. You held your breath for a moment as you searched for the words. You knew what you wanted to say, what you should say about the pieces that had formed and constructed in your mind. The realization that hit you as you watched Namjoon run ahead of you, when you turned your head back to face the creature, only to find that there was nothing there. “There is no monster” you sigh, letting out the breath you had wished to hold forever, until you turned blue and fell asleep. “No animal, or creature, or psycho chasing us around here- I don’t even think there is real anymore. Maybe it is? I just know…that nothing is trying to hurt us. Just me and you and you’re the only one seeing this thing.”

“What are you talking about?” His brow scrunches in confusion, but his tone lifts. A veil of fear lifted, leaving his voice intrigued, relieved, almost smug in its egging on of your word vomit.

You stare at him, you know what you have to say but don’t want to say it. “It’s me, is that what you want? I’m the only monster here.” Your eyes well up with tears, For the first time since stumbling into this nightmare you realize that you’ve cried. “I know your name, I remember now. Namjoon, do you remember too?” He smiles and gives you a single nod and you nod back, pursing your lips and trying to hold back the tears. “I know you’re not really him, you’re supposed to be him right? You’re leaving now, aren’t you?” You ask, “You’re going to leave me alone again?” The words slip out, and he frowns.

“I tried to stay up for you every night, tried to be there for you. But you never let me in, why did you never let me in to help you?”

“I was scared- I was so scared” you burst into tears. “I didn’t know how to let you in, I-I was so terrible to you- to him” You shake your head, wanting to forget it all again. “Don’t leave me here” you plead, inching closer, “help me, please, I’ll let you help me this time. Please I need you.”

“Why would I want you to? What help are you to me? You don’t understand, you’re always hoovering, suffocating me, just leave.” You shake your head, you don’t like the sound of your words in his mouth. “Honestly, disappear and I’ll be better.”

“I get it I was horrible.”

“I will never bother you again. Never speak to you again. I’ll leave for good, I promise. Just get help, not for my peace of mind, but yours.”

You open your eyes and he’s gone.

You look around, unsure of where you are anymore. You had never been sure, but now, with no one around; not even some monster chasing after you; you were truly alone. You smiled to yourself, this is what you wanted right? To be alone? You shake your head, starting to sob again. “I did this…I did this.”

You hated yourself, you didn’t want anyone to look at you; now, before, or ever again. All you could feel was a deep grief sitting in the pit of your stomach. You had made these choices yourself, so why were you so sad now?

Something had changed between you and Namjoon some months ago. How long has it been? You wonder, has it been a year already? Days spent holding up in your apartment with the shades drawn tight left you ignorant to the passing days of summer, then fall, and now you were sure it had to be mid-December or so. Before you could never truly remember what had changed, but something had as spring ended and a chill returned to the air. Was it just that time of month that inspired the worst of you? Namjoon had loved you, loved you so much. How he had put up with you for so long after a chill started to run through your voice; through your bones as if becoming part of you; was beyond you. 

You had lost interest in the world around you. Discouraged by one too many letdowns and mistakes. You lost interest in work, hobbies, family, friends, and love. You abandoned the old, and lived a new life in a world you made your own within the walls of your apartment. You just sit there, existing. Telling yourself next week would be better, you’d have a breakthrough, epiphany, something- and you’d live normally. Today, tomorrow, someday. And after tonight; Never. You never got your breakthrough, so you just fell asleep on the floor of your living room like any other depressing day you wasted. Sitting there, staring at nothing for hours, mindlessly stuck in your mind. Your head always hurt, and the bags under your eyes kept growing. Everything changed so fast, that your mind struggled to keep up. When it couldn’t you’d wallow in a pit of unchecked anger and deep, bellowing sorrow. You weren’t even sure why; you were sure there was a reason, but remembering it? Comprehending it? You never did get to that stage.

You wished you never began to piece it all together. All the little things around this town remind you and fit like a puzzle. The deep coldness stung your lungs and the whispers you’d hear now and again. How slowly, the true extent of your breakdown last spring was and just how vicious you had been to everyone. You had no friends left, no family that wanted to bother you anymore. Your boyfriend had been the only one, and just like everyone else you had pushed him away. Namjoon, or that monster, or whatever it was that walked with you. Was it even real? Had you imagined it all? Were you even really here? We’re you dead?

Was this some kind of punishment for how you acted?

“I hate you”

“It’s useless, how can you help? You’re useless.”

You were falling apart. Almost everything set you off back then. He set you off. How he could stay by your side left you uneasy.

How terrible that you did that to yourself, to him. How lonely had it been for him? While you got to hide away and block it all out. How bad had you hurt him?

The snow stung your skin, you were trembling as you tried to roll onto your back. Your clothes were set and your body hurt. You looked up at the grey sky, was all of that a dream? You looked around, you weren’t dressed to be out. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember leaving the house. You sat up and looked around. No monsters in sight, no one in sight this time of evening. Everyone was locked inside basking in the warmth you were sure. You looked at the cluster of apartment buildings in sight and your stomach dropped. Why did you come here?

You stood up, it was fading again; your realization of what you had done. You slowly made your way to the parking lots. “Namjoon” you spoke to yourself, “don’t forget again” you pleaded, you were so tired of forgetting.

There he is. By miracle or cruel fate, he’s there with bags from the convenience store down the street. The one you had met him at those years ago. 

It’s like he’s seen a ghost when he spots you. His face pales, and his expression drops. He’s scared to approach, you can tell.

You stood there, chest rising heavily as you inched closer to the building. “Are you okay?” He asks, not in the same warm voice he used to. It was burdened and sounded torn between ignoring and helping you, weighed by exhaustion.

You stare back at him, you haven’t seen him since it all broke and you couldn’t even remember how long ago that was. You take a peek at your hands, if I feel nothing, why am I shaking? Against the blanket of snow on the ground you should see your hands trembling, a mix of the cold and building anxiety you were beginning to believe. They weren’t bruised or cut up anymore, you weren’t sure if they ever were. They just shook, the tips of your fingers red and bitter.

You looked back up at Namjoon. His brow was furrowed, lips pressed a bit thin and pulled tight as if he was trying to keep his thoughts from escaping. This is the first time you truly looked at him, even before the breakup your eyes saw so little of him. You saw him, the ways his eyes wanted to well up with tears. You let out a shaky breath and smile, “are you okay?” You hear him repeat.

“Yeah,” you muster. But you're not, and he’s not. And you're not sure if either of you will be.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

[prismarts]

14. "I'm eternally yours, sweetheart" ^~^

Hi hello yes but I think this is the Douxilly thing ever-

Eternally Yours

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE PROMPT BAB 💙💙💙

Plot: Douxie and Illy settle in the night after their wedding ceremony.

Notes: Takes place in an alternate (not canon to ROTT) future, THEY GOT MARRIED, This is like...the night after all the wedding celebrations and aaaaaa, Douxie x OC, Canon x OC, FLUFF SOFT FLUFF, someday I will do a whole wedding fic but nfuregue for now here-

Trigger warnings: Brief implications of sex, mentions of alcohol. That should be it but let me know if I miss something.

Word count: 900 words

Tags: @stuck-in-arcadia @alovesongshewrote @furblrwurblr @slowpokenz @mxcheese @blixeon @generalfandomsofthefreak @valentimmy @marcoofthemoon @sergeantsporks @tales-of-hisirdoux @castle-of-my-dreams @lovedropletsdreams @bernie-the-nugget

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Douxie was taking a deep breath, he was in the bathroom trying to clear his head… maybe it had been a mistake to have champagne at the reception…he hadn’t drunk in a while.

No matter…he just needed to freshen up. As he splashed his face with cold water, he caught sight of his ring… a blue stone glowing on his ring finger, the ring itself made of a dark magical branch and a single leaf, enchanted to last lifetimes…

He felt his heart racing in his chest as a smile overtook his face.. He couldn’t believe it, after centuries of traveling the world and trying to earn his staff. Centuries of being in love only to break it off or never staying from the mere thought of him being immortal… he was married to the love of his life.

It felt so nice…

It felt unreal to him…

But the ring was the proof, the ring that Illy made for him was on his finger and he spent a good moment longer just admiring it…to let it sink in for his beating heart. Once he mostly has that sunk in, he turns to the pajamas he brought in with him. “Right…I need to change..”, He mumbled softly.

Once he changed into his pajamas, he left the makeshift quite modern looking bathroom in the….mostly medieval looking master bedroom. Thank goodness for magic and Akiridion tech, they were able to make these sorts of renovations..

He spotted his newly wed wife sitting on the bed, seeming to fidget with the ends of her hair which was now down from the elaborate bun she had for their ceremony. She has a sleeveless light blue nightgown on, her wings gently folded against her back as she sat.

“Hello, my darling wife…”

Douxie said with a soft tone of voice as he reached down to carefully squish her cheeks in his hands, letting out a soft chuckle as her cheeks turn a shade of red at the new term of affection.

He stared at her with so much love, how turquoise eyes seemed to sparkle like stars, the way her smile, at the moment decorated with red lipstick lit up the whole room and the adorable freckles decorating her red cheeks.

His heart was leaping…

She was so beautiful to him….and he loved her so so much.

He hadn't realized…or maybe he did and merely enjoyed, how Illy seemed to stare back at him with the same if not even more love…

"H..hi…"

She mumbled softly, slowly standing up as she carefully leaned against him. Almost burying her face against his chest but instead just leaning her whole body against him. One of her hands reaching out to trace the magical rune tattoos all over his arms..

And he shivered at the contact, smiling widely at how affectionate she was..

"Everything alright, fluturaș?..."

"Mhm…I..just….I can't believe today was real…I..I can't believe it…we actually got married…we're married Douxie!"

The hushed excitement coming from her made the both of them giddy, coupled with how physically close they are… it was like heaven..

But Douxie pulled back for a moment, he had to… so he could carefully lean down and press the softest kiss against her lips. Arms gently wrapped around her as he carefully but successfully lifted her up.

Gently pressing her against him, he could feel her small butterfly wings flutter just above where his arms were holding her close. They were glowing from how loved she felt.

They could both feel their hearts racing in their chests as they finally pulled away from their kiss, soft pants escaping them as they leaned their foreheads together for a brief moment.

"I…I love you..so much Douxie.." Illy said, so much affection in that hushed declaration that it made his heart absolutely melt.

He twirled her around in his arms for a moment, relishing in the giggle that escaped her. Before carefully getting them both back onto the bed. Laying down on his back and carefully positioning his wife to lay down above him.

Their hearts still racing in their chests…

He heard her giggle as he opened his eyes to look at her, golden hazel yet green eyes staring into turquoise ones…

He saw her giggle and laugh…

He adores it…

He adores and loves her so so much..

"Y..you…I..I smudged my lipstick all over your lips… I'm s..so sorry Douxie I-" She said giggling, reaching her hand out in an attempt to wipe it off…

Until she heard it..

"I love you…so so much…… I'm eternally yours, sweetheart…."

It was a hushed declaration… but with so much love in his voice..

She teared up, effectively smudging what little make up was still somewhat intact…still he found her to be just as stunning as she did in her wedding dress…walking down the aisle…if not maybe even more so…

"Oh fluturaș.."

"I….i love you too…s..so so much.."

He carefully lifted his torso up, if only to cup her soft cheeks with his hands pulling her in for a passionate loving kiss, the two carefully leaning on each other…

They showed all their love for each other that night, passionate kisses and caresses….hands carefully and lovingly exploring each other's bodies…

That night…all that mattered was each other…. And that was…everything they could have ever wished for..

[spell-cleaver]

Luke let out a relieved breath as Vader burst through the door.

Previous parts on the masterpost here!

Luke let out a relieved breath as Vader burst through the door.

It was a nightmare. Another one. His eyes flew open and latched onto his father the moment they did, his gaze beseeching, already pushing back the covers and grasping for Anakin the nerf, for his other toys, one hand out for Vader—

Vader was next to him in a heartbeat. “Luke?”

“He’s still there,” Luke sobbed. He took several deep, rasping breaths, holding his toys very, very tightly, and tried to banish everything. He could sense cold, but that was his father; that was not Palpatine. The darkness that pressed in around him was familiar, but it would not hurt him, it would not hurt him—

He took another heaving breath. “I hate it.”

“I know, my son.” Vader knelt beside him, and clasped Luke’s hand between both of his; within his massive durasteel palms, Luke’s tiny hand hung limp and pale. Vader squeezed it with fingers that had crushed the throats and hearts and souls of a thousand men, his gentleness painstaking. “You…”

Luke frowned, leaning in; Vader seemed conflicted about something, seemed ready to speak… but speak he did not. So Luke closed his eyes again.

“I hate this planet,” he whispered. “I’ve always hated it. I hate this palace—even the quarters you made for me, and I know they’re lovely, I know you made them because you love me, Father, but they are here, and they are— they—”

“Luke.”

“My friends are leaving,” Luke burst out. He hadn’t realised how much the idea that they were leaving had upset him; not because he didn’t think they deserved to be happy, not because he wanted them to stay, not because he feared they would forget about him while they were gone.

But because he was realising:

If the people he loved left… what was there for him here?

There was Nova, and Vader, and Ahsoka… but they were older than him, they were other, and—

“I know, Luke, I—”

“Palpatine is gone, and he was wrong about so many things, but he was right in that I cannot rule this Empire. Not well.”

“You could, you are smart enough—”

“Not because I’m not enough,” Luke said. “Because I can’t give enough. Because I don’t want to.”

Vader paused.

Luke gripped his hand. “Father,” he begged. “I want to go. Somewhere. I do not want to be Emperor anymore. I do not want to stay here. I do not want to lead the Empire that Palpatine used to cause so much suffering.”

*

Vader hesitated, for a moment. There is no one better to rule than you, he wanted to say; it was still something he believed wholeheartedly. Padmé and Luke deserved the world.

But his conversation with Sabé rang in his ears.

Make a better galaxy for Luke to live in.

All those years ago, he had not wanted to give Padmé the Empire because she craved power, or even just because she was the best person for the job. He had done it because he trusted no one else to create a galaxy where their family could be happy—a galaxy for the two of them, and the precious, precious son nestled below her heart.

What was the point, if forcing that son to carry on his mother’s role would only cause him suffering?

Sabé would do what Padmé would have done. He knew that. He trusted her.

And…

And he trusted that she loved his son just as much as he did.

*

“Father,” Luke said again, more fiercely this time: “I will not lead Palpatine’s Empire. I refuse to.”

There was silence for a long, long moment.

“Little angel,” Vader said finally. Luke blinked up at him. “I… I have something to tell you.”

Luke’s mouth puckered into a frown, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“I was speaking to Sabé, this afternoon. After… about your nightmare from last night, as well. She…”

He trailed off again. Luke frowned, his own tears and fears forgotten momentarily as he reached out to Vader—and sensed pain.

He flinched back.

Pain.

Resolve.

Love, boundless and pure.

“The school your friends will be going to is in Theed,” Vader continued. “And Sabé has informed me that— that your mother’s relatives, the Naberries, would very much like to meet you. For… for you to stay with them.”

Luke gaped at him.

“For how long?” he asked suspiciously. He— he wanted to leap for joy, he wanted to crawl out of bed and hug his father, he wanted to beam brighter than Coruscant Prime. But he could sense his father’s misery, and he did not want to hurt him.

“Sabé contacted them this evening,” Vader said. “They are willing to house you… permanently.” The word stuck in his vocoder as if in protest.

But when it escaped, it struck Luke in the chest like a gong.

Permanently.

Permanently.

“I would move there?” he asked. He tried, he really tried, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, then. To visit Naboo… to visit Theed, properly, without diplomatic obligations… to visit his family…

He had been happier in those few weeks on Naboo than he ever had in his entire life.

Vader nodded. “You would,” he said.

Luke did crawl out of bed, then; he didn’t feel like he could properly grasp the situation when he was about to fall asleep again. He perched on his knees on top of the covers, frowning fiercely at Vader, and was amused by the confusion Vader felt at the frown.

“I can’t be Emperor from Naboo,” he pointed out shrewdly. “I can’t mingle with court and be diplomatic and make major decisions. If you still want me to rule—”

“I do still want you to rule, little angel. But I want you to be happy. As it becomes increasingly clear that they are mutually exclusive, I know which one I value more.”

Luke looked at him like he’d never looked at him before.

“You’ll rule in my stead?” he asked, trying not to show his scepticism and dislike of that idea. Vader… was Vader.

“Sabé will, have no fear.” Vader sounded more amused at the insult than offended. “She will be your Regent.”

“Regent? Am I expected to return one day?”

Vader said, “Spend some time on Naboo before you officially make your decision, Majesty. I… if you wish to abdicate altogether, no one will stop you—”

“I wish to abdicate altogether.”

“—but you must understand that you cannot return once you have abdicated. So all I ask is that you spend your time on Naboo thinking it over, and decide from there—I do not want you to make a choice without knowing exactly what choice you are making. I… Sabé and I have agreed that I will visit you in a year to hear your decision. If you wish to return, you can; if not… alternative methods of government can be arranged, whether you wish to be involved or not.”

“You’ll visit me in a year?” Luke asked. “You mean—you’re not coming with me?”

Vader paused.

Tilted his head towards him slowly.

From this angle, in this dim light of his room, Luke could only dimly see the irises behind his eye plates. But he could see them all the same.

Strange: they looked like they might be blue.

“No, Luke,” Vader said. “I will not be.”

Luke blinked.

Then—

“What!?” He threw himself forward and glared, scrambling to stand up and pace. “What? You’re not coming!? Why not!?” He sucked in a breath. “And— if Nova is Regent, then—”

“She will not be accompanying you either, no. She… will take you as far as Theed, and introduce you to your aunt and uncle, but that will be it.”

“I can’t—” Luke gaped at him. “I don’t want to leave you!”

“I know.” Vader’s voice was heady with emotion as he stood himself, and walked to the other side of the room, his hands laced together behind his back. “I— I do not want you to go, which is why I fought this so hard. But you must go, if you are to be happy, and— and I—”

He let his respirator breath for him for several long cycles.

“And I am needed here,” he said. “Palpatine’s supporters are not yet fully routed. I am needed to obliterate them completely, so that you can be safe. Even if you were to stay on Coruscant, I would have to leave you.”

Luke said, “Oh.”

Vader turned back around again. “I will miss you, my son,” he said thickly. “So— very, very much. But I believe… I believe that this is what is best.”

“Oh.”

Luke didn’t know what to say.

It was three am. Vader had broken this news to him when it was three am, when he’d woken from a nightmare, and Luke did not know how to deal with the galaxy.

“I believe that your friends will be starting school in two weeks,” Vader said. “If— in order for you to be properly integrated and enrolled by then, you will have to have met your family by then. Sabé… recommends that you leave in a week.”

“I understand.”

“We were meant to tell you this tomorrow morning.”

Luke said thickly, “You mean today?”

Vader snorted. “Yes. I mean today.” Then he tilted his head, and came back over; he took Luke’s hand ever so gently and guided him back into bed. “Sleep, Luke. You will need it, and I will have a great deal of explaining to do to Sabé when you awaken.”

“Yeah, you will.” But he consented to let himself be tucked in bed. It was warm here, now, and the shadows no longer seemed quite so deep.

Before Vader left, he paused. “You will be happy on Naboo,” he promised.

“I will be happy without you?” Luke shot back.

Vader gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Indeed,” he said. His Force presence roiled; Luke was struck by the sudden realisation that that was the cold in the Palace, that was a part of the memories chasing him every night…

…that dark, seething presence was, of course, why he had had no joyful childhood.

He could sense Vader’s regret, thick and thunderous.

“You will certainly be happier without me.”

Luke wanted to object. Wanted to object, because he loved his father, they had come so far—

But there were parsecs left to go.

And this journey, he suspected, they would have to take apart.

If only so they were in better positions to understand and love each other when their paths once again converged.

Vader turned to go.

“I love you, Father,” he called to his retreating back.

The reply was a gentle as a downy wing.

And I love you, little angel.

Beginning | Previous | Next

[dethkomic]

Is Abigail gonna eventually make an appearance here?

Man I want Abigail to be in Dethkomic so bad it's unreal. But, at the time this story is taking place with regards to canon, we're two seasons too early and I don't have anything written that requires a flash-forward.

However.

You'll see at the end there is room for me to continue a lot of threads I've started. I've actually already come close to having the backbones of a story treatment which would continue into the seasons we've seen since the Baen-Shee story was penned (which was also before season 2 wrapped) as well as span the major events of my old AU, here. In fact, of the original fanfics I wrote, all 6 of them were mostly completed before season 3 began. I think I was literally writing the last chapters of the last book when we hit the mid-season break, in fact. So a lot has happened canonically that I think would be awesome to explore.

Things I'm considering:

The Dethkomic sequel happens, canonically, after the movie: This is the biggest "what if" on the table, possibly. I am looking at a possible break after Chapter 4 which might take us to the time after the movie has premiered, so that'd certainly allow for a good amount of breathing room, but I have a feeling if I do want to continue these stories, I'm going to want to do so sooner than that and hey... who the hell knows what'll happen during the finale? Still, Abigail would likely make an appearance.

The Dethkomic sequel happens sometime after Season 3 and before Doomstar: My favorite option for including Abigail and a whole butt-ton of lore that we've learned. Especially if I wrote it as happening after Charles' big reveal about the Church of the Black Klok and all that. Especially-especially because in writing my fics all those years ago, we only knew that *something* was going on with ol' CFO's interactions with some supernatural craziness, and no details. With a few of those blanks filled in, I'd have a lot of fun merging old stories and speculation with what's come about since.

Or, you know... it could also just be a huge pain in the ass. Still, this is probably my favorite idea of the three.

And finally... The Dethkomic sequel(s) happen(s) as a series of flashbacks: Post-Doomstar, maybe post-movie, but Abigail is getting caught up on things that happened before she was involved with the band. This idea came as a means of tying my follow-up fics together into a sort of clip-show, and I'd likely do them as one-shots, and each one not nearly as long as Dethkomic. Appealing for how "complete" I could make something, but feels kinda cheap at the same time. An idea I'm not disregarding, but my least favorite so far.

But yeah, in all three aspects, we're looking at including Abigail and a lot of other characters we've met from Season 3, onward. Up until a few months ago, I wasn't even sure I'd go into sequel territory (beyond Harmonic Odyssey, that is), but the series has maintained its popularity to a point where people are starting to ask about things that I can't explain in 80 pages or so... and I'm motivated and would really like to explore them.

Also, I realize this was probably way more than you cared to know, OP, but, hey! There ya go :)

Thank you for the question! Dethkomic loves you!

[serenityseventeen]

♪ The Last Day of Summer With You

Dino/Lee Chan : Firefly Meadow

Chan groaned in exhaustion as he continued walking down the dirt road with you on his back.

On the way up the hill, you had tripped over a thick tree branch and sprained your ankle, which was to you, a complete disappointment. You had waited until the last day of summer to take him to a forest meadow to see fireflies only for an unplanned disaster to occur.

“Just a bit more,” You said quietly, after hearing Chan's exhausted breaths. Even though you got hurt and felt bad for having Chan carry you, you wanted to desperately see the lightning bugs. You rested your head on his shoulder and said, “I told you that you don't have to carry me all the way over here, I could walk.”

Chan, despite being quite obvious about the fact that his energy was getting drained, smiled and chuckled. “It's okay. If that sprain was not enough for you to go back, I'm just going to trust you that there's something beautiful up here,” Chan replied, looking ahead. He could see the dirt path slowly fade to just green grass.

It was getting dark and if you had to estimate, you would guess that it was probably around 9 pm. The way up wasn't easy but now that you two have reached a certain point, it was quite easy to tell that the floor was evening out. Trees were surrounding the path and Chan felt a bit skeptical about the place as he looked around.

He didn't know about the fireflies yet.

As you two traveled further away from your car that was parked at the street nearby, deeper into the forest, you could see hints of the destination approaching. You found this place when you were following a rabbit while you were young, and though you've always somewhat hated the look of bugs, whenever you saw fireflies, you'd get reminded that everything ugly in life still had beauty in it.

You wanted to share this special place, that you were sure no one knew of, with the most special person in the world. You wanted to thank Chan for being the kindest, most loving, caring, and helpful boyfriend. Through thick and thin, snowy storms and sunny weather, Chan was always there by your side. Now that another summer with him was about to pass by, you wanted to tell him how special he was.

While he continued to walk, you took out your phone and turned on the flashlight, making sure that it was bright enough to light up the night. Then, in a reassuring voice, you told him, “I have a small surprise for you, do you mind if I cover your eyes?”

“Cover my eyes??” Chan was taken aback by the question but he knew that if he wanted a good surprise, he had to at least follow your conditions but even so, Chan tilted his head doubtingly. “How long will you cover them for?”

You estimated how long it would take for Chan to walk to the firefly heaven, and concluded, “Around 30 seconds? Just keep walking forward, the path onward is flat but the grass is tall.”

As your hands went on to cover Chan's eyes, he adjusted his grip and your position on his back with a little jump and continued.

Of course, Chan was terrified. As if walking in a forest during the late evening wasn't scary enough, he had to walk with his eyes covered. Sometimes, he would even become paranoid, thinking that he'd be carrying a ghost or something, so he'd always ask you something and hear your warm responses to chase away the fear.

The meadow was like a clearing in the forest. The grass gradually grew taller and there weren't many trees anymore, only one or two in the middle of the field.

At first, you were afraid that the glowing bugs wouldn't be there, or if there were, there wouldn't be many, since fireflies were primarily present during late spring to early summer. You did know, however, that sometimes fireflies could live on or have twinkling bottoms a bit later in the humid weather. You just had to hope that there were some.

With a soft sigh, you looked down at the meadow.

More disappointment. You should have checked for fireflies the day prior. You felt stupid for not doing so.

There was nothing.

No twinkling bugs, no fairyland.

With a sigh, your hands slipped off of Chan's eyes.

“We're too late. The fireflies are gone.”

“Fireflies? What fireflies?” Chan asked. You let yourself down and while hopping on one leg, you took a hold of the tree behind you. The bark was rather smooth rather than rough.

“In the summer, there are fireflies here. I should have taken you here earlier, at the beginning of summer, not at the end...” You looked down, plucking a piece of long grass and fidgeting with it, feeling that everything had been ruined. You continued to mutter, “I wanted to make it special so that you could know that you're special to me.”

Chan felt his heart smile. “Well, it's okay, we don't need to see fireflies... I don't like bugs anyway.”

He had a joking tone, meant for you to laugh, and he didn't fail at that. You just found yourself chortling at what he said because you knew it was somewhat sincere.

“The fireflies are really beautiful,” You commented, looking ahead at the darkness of the forest. “I will make sure to take you here again to see them.”

“I'll wait for that then, but you don't need to wait to tell me that you adore me,” Chan replied, putting his arm around your shoulders to help you stabilize and comfort you. “I mean, you already make me feel special everyday. Who needs lightning bugs? You're already the sun of my world, I don't need anything else.”

You chuckled softly and confessed, “I thought you were gonna say that I was already like a lightning bug, but fortunately, you called me the sun instead.”

Chan chuckled and looked forward, where in the distance, he saw the faint blink of a neon yellowish light with a tint of green.

You dropped your head, and commented quietly, “Still, I think we wasted our time coming up here.”

There was a silence of words as Chan stared at the firefly, subconsciously reaching his hand out toward it. It flew rhythmically, from left to right, high to low, eventually landing on Chan's hand. You were staring at the ground, still bummed, when you felt a slight tap on your shoulder.

You looked up and were met with a cute little beetle. The bottom of the beetle was glowing and its little light was somehow enough. You and Chan looked at each other, amazed at the little beauty. You both smiled, your eyes reflecting the bug's neon glow, your eyes following it as it flew off into the distance.

“I think the climb was worth it,” Chan said, turning to you. He took your hand and gave it a soft kiss. “We got to see a firefly like what you wanted.”

“That's not what I wanted, I wanted a whole pack of them. It would have made this meadow light up like a magical land!” You smiled as you complained, knowing that you felt satisfied.

Chan clapped his hands together. “I've never seen a firefly up close but it looked and made this land so magical, it almost felt unreal. Anyway, I'm happy to have come here with you. It felt special.”

You smiled, chuckling at your boyfriend's simple but sincere words. You could tell that not one of his words was an exaggeration even if it did seem like it since the sentences were so brazen.

“Thank you,” Chan said, brushing his thumb across your hand softly.

You didn't know how to respond. You just felt euphoric at the beautiful moment, making it seem like a hundred fireflies were lighting up the place brilliantly when there was only darkness and the flashlight from your phone as a light source.

You felt thankful to that one lightning bug that was like a blessing.

Noticing the shifting weather, Chan slipped his hand away from your shoulder, walked in front of you, and crouched down. You couldn't see his face but you were sure that he was smiling as he said the next sentence in a gentle voice.

“Climb on, honey, let's head back.”

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

© serenityseventeen

a/n: Today's IN THE SOOP ep made me cry- I cried when Seungkwan and Chan had their talk at the Tarp Zone because that was so wholesome and just so- beautiful to see them care for each other... But then I must've looked crazy because after that, I began laughing when they began reminiscing their past lol (and why are they so effortlessly funny lol) + I need to get that Dino fic done... I don't want to work on many things simultaneously, I can see the end!! + And guys- what if- what if i become a dinonara!?!? considering switching my bias to dino, sorry wonu... but I might not change??

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Okay, so... We're getting closer to their "first kiss". Can you tell us when Dani will see some things about their sex life? I mean... Something on her phone, maybe something she reads in her diary...

Also, I was thinking about something. Dani is jealous sometimes and she shows that she's kinda afraid of loosing Jamie. When they became more intimacy moments (not sex, but just kisses, things getting hot), Dani will try to rush things because she's afraid of Jamie not being interested if they don't have sex? Of course this is about her being insecure considering everything she's been through.

Last thing... Any hopes for them going to the beach of something? It would be nice to see Dani trying to not look at Jamie 😂

You're getting so close to the first kiss now it's unreal!! I really hope you like it when you read it!! Dani is gonna see things on her phone and talk to Jamie about them very soon!! I really like this idea and think it's definitely possible Dani would feel this way but she's also very scared that she won't be good in bed and that's a worry for her too so while she is scared of losing Jamie and wants to keep her interested she doesn't wanna rush too much and end up not being good enough for Jamie- which obviously isn't going to happen but Dani is very scared of this possibility. I am trying to work that out, but with how the story is set out right now it's March and in the UK the weather in march isn't always the best so they wouldn't really be able to go to the beach much. I will have them going to the beach if I can work it out because I do love the idea of Dani having a hard time not looking at Jamie but the weather in England is hardly nice enough to just wear a bikini or anything like that in March, so that might have to happen a little later on in the fic when it would be summer ☺️