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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

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Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 6

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“I still think you should wear the blue one,” Missy says from her spot lying on Dana’s bed, having long ago tired of the lengthy debate over what she should wear for her date with Mulder.

It’s now 5:30 and while her hair and makeup have been meticulously complete for over an hour, she’s found herself unable to decide on a dress.

“I was wearing that when Ethan proposed to me, Missy. It’s tainted,” she replies with a glare, alternately holding up a red dress that hits just above the knee and has spaghetti straps, and a black one that is ankle length and has a halter top.

Missy rolls onto her side with an exasperated sigh. “It’s just a dress, Dana. And the man is already in love with you, I doubt he cares that much about what you’re wearing. You’re overthinking it, Sis. Though I think I do have some sage in my bag if you want me to smudge it,” she adds helpfully.

Dana gives her sister a pleading look.

“Fine. Wear the red one,” she acquiesces, moving to sit up. “I better get out of here before he shows up,” she says, and the second the words leave her mouth they hear a soft rapping on the door. They look at each other, Dana still in her bra panties, and then Missy stands. “I’ll let him in, you get dressed.”

Missy pulls the bedroom door closed behind her and answers just as Mulder knocks for a second time. He gives her a quizzical look and turns to check the number on the apartment.

“You’ve got the right one, I’m Dana’s sister, Melissa. We met once,” Missy says as she extends her hand.

Mulder takes it, nodding with recognition. “Right, I remember. Uh, is Scully, I mean Dana, here?”

Missy gives him a sympathetic frown. “No, I’m sorry. She changed her mind.”

Mulder’s expression falls until he hears Scully call out from behind her “Missy, don’t be a jerk!”

She crosses the living room, pausing by the couch to pull a shoe the rest of the way over her heel, and then arrives in the doorway. Mulder is dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt, his dark grey tie patterned with little triangles. His hair looks freshly cut, barely long enough to run your fingers through, and he’s holding a small bouquet of flowers. He looks delicious.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Missy says with a mischievous smile, grabbing her satchel from the dining room table and slipping past Mulder out the open door. “You two kids have fun,” she calls over her shoulder.

Dana rolls her eyes at her sister's remark, then turns to see Mulder staring at her with an oddly intense expression, his lips slightly parted.

“What?” she asks with genuine concern, looking down at her dress to make sure nothing is out of place.

He shakes his head gently as if pulling himself from a reverie. “You look...you look incredible. I mean you always look incredible but now that I’m allowed to tell you that you look incredible…” he drags his eyes down to her shoes and back up to her face where he finds a soft smile on her lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he completes.

She looks away sheepishly, pressing her lips together to hide the grin that it would feel too conceited to let show. “Thank you,” she says quietly, then meets his eye. “You look very handsome yourself.”

They look at each other for a beat, and she can tell he wants to kiss her. She wonders if he will, and if she should let him. They’ve already done much more than kiss, but everything still feels so new. Starting over indeed.

“Oh, these are for you,” he blurts out, breaking the tension as he offers her the flowers.

“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” she replies, taking them and going to the kitchen for a vase. She can sense his eyes on her back as she fills it with water then sets it on the table. She feels a little tingle in response, one she hasn’t felt in a very, very long time. “Shall we?” she asks as she grabs a sweater from the closet, avoiding his eye lest she throw him down on her sofa and never make it to dinner at all.

He steps just outside the door into the hall, so close as she locks it behind them that she can smell his aftershave. When they turn to leave, his hand drifts to rest on her lower back and it sends a little shockwave through her, and a flush of warmth between her thighs. Knowing that they can actually do all the things she’s imagined is exciting and scary, and she wonders how long she can wait. Wonders how long she wants to.

———

He steals glances at every stoplight or stretch of straight road, basically any chance he gets to look away without causing an accident, to take in the stunning beauty in the passenger seat beside him. That little red dress hugs her curves in all the right places, the pale swell of her breasts peeking out and rising gently with each breath. He shifts in his seat, willing his dick to behave and not make him look like a sex crazed lunatic. Though he is pretty sex starved, so it wouldn’t be an entirely untrue assessment. Every bit of self control he’d mustered when they spent time together last year has worn thin, and though he knows that she is no longer off-limits, that doesn’t mean she’s ready to get physical. He would have waited forever for her, so what’s a few more days, or weeks. Months? He really hopes it’s not months.

They pull up in front of the restaurant and he jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for her before the valet can get there. She gives him a shy little smile when he offers his hand to help her out of the car, pulling her to stand in the small space between himself and the doorframe so that the front of their bodies are nearly flush. She tilts her face up towards him, her tall shoes still only bringing her to his shoulder. He lets his eyes fall to her mouth, which is bare of any lipstick but naturally pink and pouty. He could kiss her now and not smudge anything at all.

“Sir?” the valet interrupts, holding out his hand in request of the keys.

The spell broken, he gives over the keys and takes Scully’s hand, her slim fingers threading between his own as her thumb brushes against his palm, a secret acknowledgement of the moment they shared. He smiles to himself as he leads her to the front doors of Marcel’s, looking over to see her curious appraisal of the venue. She clearly hasn’t been here before, which makes him happy. They are led by the host to a small table near the window draped in white linens and she gives him a skeptical glance as he pulls out her chair.

“Are you always this chivalrous? Don’t set expectations you can’t live up to, Mulder.”

He chuffs a laugh. “I actually am, it’s not an act. I was raised in a very upscale, old money environment. I can also tell you which fork to use for each course, if you’re interested.”

She lifts her eyebrows in surprise, watching him curiously as he takes the seat beside her, not across. He doesn’t want an entire table between them.

“Really? Where was that?”

“Martha’s Vineyard,” he answers plainly, not ever wanting that to sound like something he’s bragging about. “What about you, where are you from?” He changes the subject as quickly as possible.

She makes a face. “Nowhere in particular. I was born in Annapolis but my father was in the Navy so we moved a lot. The place he was stationed the longest was San Diego so that area feels just a little bit like home, but we’ve also spent quite a bit of time on the East Coast. We lived in Japan for a bit when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it.”

The waiter comes by to take their drink orders and Mulder orders a bottle of red he assumes they’ll have without looking at the menu. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Scully opens her menu and her eyes expand in shock. She closes it quietly and waits for the waiter to leave before leaning towards him.

“Mulder,” she says very seriously, as though she’s about to deliver devastating news, “that bottle of wine is three hundred dollars.”

He leans further towards her so their foreheads nearly touch. “Scully,” he says in an equally serious tone, “I warned you I was going to go overboard.”

He watches her try to suppress a surprised smile as she leans back, eyeing him appraisingly. “You’re quite the enigma, Mulder. With your fancy country club upbringing and expensive taste in wine in contrast to aliens and worn down bachelor pads.”

“Worn down?” he says in mock offense, “Priscilla will be horrified to hear that you said that.” The full-toothed smile he gets in response makes his heart swell, even if he suspects it has more to do with the mention of Priscilla than his winning sense of humor.

Wine and water are delivered, and Scully tries to order the cheapest thing on the menu before he insists that she wants the surf and turf and she acquiesces with a pained look.

“I think you’ve mischaracterized who among us is the enigma, Scully,” he picks up after their menus are collected. “I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered another Navy brat brainiac babe who cuts up dead people for a living.”

“Really?” she asks, eyebrows furrowed as though this is surprising to hear. “I’ll have to invite you to our next chapter meeting.”

“You’re also funny, add that to your list of enigmatic qualities,” he retorts, and she shrugs demurely. “Speaking of enigmas, there was a case I did a little poking around on, about some suspicious deaths in a community of carnies. There was a sideshow act where a man who was tattooed head to toe in jigsaw puzzle pieces ate live animals. He was sometimes called The Conundrum, and other times he went by The Enigma.”

Her eyes light up at the mention of his old work. “Was this an x file?” she asks excitedly.

“Not technically, no. This was just a couple years ago so the files were closed, but every now and then I get a lead and take some time off work to run it down.”

Scully looks a little disappointed. “Have you ever tried to have the X files reopened?” she asks, taking a sip of her wine and making a little expression that he takes as her being impressed.

“Sure, especially at first. The people at the heart of these government-run conspiracies don’t want the files open again, but the main reason bureau leadership gives for now is that I don’t have a partner, and they won’t let me work on them alone.”

“Couldn't they just assign you a partner? I’m not a field agent, but I was under the impression they somewhat randomly pair people off.”

He smiles sheepishly. “In theory, yes. But I haven’t had much success with the partners I’ve been assigned in the past. One might say that I don’t play well with others.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she says with a skeptical look, “you strike me as fairly easy to get along with.”

“Maybe so, Scully, but there’s a significant difference you’re omitting,” he leans forward and lets the tips of his fingers brush her bare knee. “I like you.”

There’s that million dollar grin again. This night is going so much better than he possibly could have hoped.

———

She could not have possibly imagined how good it would feel to be with him and truly be with him. No boundaries, no barriers, no lines to walk between what’s acceptable for ‘just friends.’ They openly flirt and smile at each other all through dinner, casually touching an arm or a leg, holding hands briefly a few times. She feels like a giddy schoolgirl and can’t recall the last time she felt this happy. So when the waiter collects their dessert plates and drops off the bill, she feels a little wave of sadness that the night is coming to an end.

She knows that if she invites him to come up to her apartment, he will say yes. And she knows that if she does that, they will end up having sex. She would very, very much like to have sex with him. But she’s also worried that she’s rushing things and potentially ignoring possible red flags or other signs that they might not be compatible because she wants this to work so badly. She decides she’s not going to invite him up.

They stand on the curb outside Marcel’s, waiting for the valet to bring the car around, and she crosses her arms and shivers against the cool evening air. Mulder notices and slides his arm around her shoulders, rubbing his palm briskly over her upper arm. Not satisfied that he’s done enough, he then moves to stand behind her and opens his suit jacket, pressing his chest to her back as he wraps the jacket around her, folding them both up inside it. He’s warm and firm and she lets her weight rest against him, the back of her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She sighs contentedly, feeling safe and cared for. It’s a feeling she’s really missed, being single.

On the short drive back to her apartment, he slips his hand over the console to rest on the seat next to her, an invitation, and she presses her palm against his, feeling the ache of missing him before he’s even gone. He pulls up to the curb in front of her building and they don’t let go, looking at each other in the dim glow of the street lights.

“Can I walk you to your door?” he asks, and she feels a mischievous smile creep over her lips. She nods.

They walk slowly, hand in hand, through the front doors and up the elevator. When they arrive at her door, she unlocks but doesn’t open it, leaning her back against the frame instead.

“I had a really nice time, Mulder. Thank you,” she says, her gaze lingering on his hooded green eyes and that full bottom lip.

“Me too,” he replies with a shy smile, stepping forward and placing his fingertips cautiously on her hips.

Her pelvis tips toward him unconsciously, seeking out the contact she has every intention of denying herself for now.

“Can I...would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asks, his eyes on her mouth. She opens it reflexively, tilting her chin up further.

He seems to take that as his answer, dipping his head to meet her at her level, and the pillowy press of his mouth against hers feels like such a relief she sighs audibly. His fingers on her hips press more firmly in response, pulling her gently towards him, closer still. She puts her hands on his forearms and slides them up until her fingers are gently scraping through the hair at the nape of his neck, and she feels his tongue slip out to taste hers. One of his hands leaves her hip and she feels it flutter over the side of her neck, cupping her jaw gently as they kiss slowly, languidly, like they have all the time in the world. His thumb brushes over the front of her throat and it somehow feels more intimate than if he were touching her in a more private place. To touch her in a vulnerable spot, one that can hurt and even kill someone, but to do it so tenderly feels erotic and exciting, and she takes his lip between her teeth and bites down gently to encourage him. He emits a little groan and arches his pelvis towards her, the stiff ridge of his erection grazing her belly.

“Mulder,” she says between kisses.

“Mmmmm,” he says in response, brushing his lips over the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t...I think….we should probably say goodnight.”

He makes a little sound somewhere between a whine and a sigh, but pulls away from her.

“I just...I don’t want to rush this,” she says earnestly, holding both his hands in hers. “I want to do things right this time.”

He nods, pulling her into an embrace. She has that feeling again, like she could crawl inside his chest cavity and make a home there, though this time it’s accessorized with an erection pressed against her.

“Sorry about that,” he says without embarrassment, and she laughs.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she replies, pulling away and reaching for the doorknob.

“You really, really, should,” he retorts, and she opens the door, backing in slowly. Once she is fully inside and looking at him through the slim crack she’s wedged herself into as though she were trying to keep him out, he leans forward so his face is inches from hers. “One for the road?” he asks hopefully, and she nods.

He presses his mouth against hers, chastely, no tongue, and holds it there for a very long time. Long enough that she starts to feel her resolve cracking. She pulls away.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she says in a sing-song voice, and he backs away from the door with a dopey smile.

“Night, Scully,” he replies, not leaving until after she closes the door. She knows because she watches him through the peephole as he stands there smiling like a fool before looking up and possibly thanking the gods. Finally, he leaves.

Goodnight indeed. It was such a good night.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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virunathestarbaby · 2 years

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Day 8- Wearing each other's clothes

Day: 8- Wearing each other's clothes

Fandom: Death Note

Pairings: Matsuda Touta x Kotobuki Otoha (OC)

Warnings: none

Word count: 941

Songs I associate with this chapter: None

"Touuuuuuuutaaaaaaaa~!" Otoha sang as she entered the living room where her cuddly boyfriend was.

Looking up from his phone, Matsuda couldn't help but let out a loud laugh when he saw her attire, which consisted of his dress shirt, tie, and business suit. She would have rocked the outfit if only it was her size. She looked adorable though, "Why are you wearing that?"

"Hehe! Does it look good on me?" She asked, striking a pose.

"You look cute." He grinned.

"No, I'm not! I'm sexy!" She whined, flapping the loose sleeves of the suit.

"And cute." He laughed, sitting upright. "Why are you even wearing that?"

"No reason." She shrugged as she held the pants up as it kept falling down even with the tightened belt. "I just saw it in your part of the closet and wanted to try it on."

"What are you doing in my side of the closet—"

"Because I was looking for more shirts to steal, now hush, my love." She said and Matsuda only laughed, shaking his head before opening his arms and gesturing for her to come sit on him.

"You're too random sometimes, buns." He said, nuzzling his cheek on hers as he cuddled her.

Otoha giggled and poked at his nose, making him scrunch it in return. "But you still love me~"

"Yes, yes I do." He nodded, kissing her on the cheek as he rocked her side to side. "You should wear more of my clothes. You look adorable in them."

She snorted a bit and leaned back on him more, "Oh, definitely. I'm stealing your whole closet. They're mine now."

"At least leave me my underwear and work clothes." He laughed and she shook her head.

"Nope! I'm taking them all!"

"What will I wear then?" He quirked a brow in amusement.

She just shrugged, "I don't know. You look better without clothes anyway."

"You're unbelievable.." Matsuda laughed as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck more.

"Heeeeey, Toutaaaa." She called.

"Yesssss, Otoooooo?" He replied, mimicking her tone.

"What if you tried my clothes?" Matsuda almost choked on nothing at her suggestion, blushing as he remembered most of the clothing in her wardrobe.

"W-why?"

"Because!" She insisted, looking up at him with big eyes that she knew he would have a hard time resisting to. "Please? Just once? I'm always wearing your clothes, why won't you wear mine?"

Damn it! Why does she have to look so cute?!? He wanted to say no to save himself and his dignity, but then again…he kind of also wanted to try it?

Matsuda only sighed and nodded. "Sure, okay. Only if they could fit me. Which, I know they wouldn't. Your waistline's too small compared to mine."

He had a big smile on his face, thinking he outsmarted her. He had a point after all, none of her clothes would fit him, aside from the shirts she stole from him before.

But what Matsuda didn't know….he had fallen right into her trap.

"Hehe~"

~~~~

"You planned this. Didn't you?" Matsuda blankly stared at his girlfriend, which he was so tempted to throw out the window and into the outer space, especially with how loud she was laughing— practically rolling around on the floor of their bedroom. She was the literal humanized version of ROFL right now.

"HAHAHA— AND..AND YOU FELL RIGHT INTO IT!" Otoha laughed, clutching at her stomach.

His eye twitched in annoyance as he cocked his hip to the side, the skirt of the dress he was wearing riding up a bit from the action.

"You look gorgeous, hun!" She grinned, looking up at her boyfriend and pretended to ogle at him, playfully wiggling her eyebrows as well. "So sexy~"

Letting out a sigh, he took a minute to fully look at himself in the mirror. The dress he was wearing was a version of his favorite dress on her that was adjusted and made especially for him. A simple black off shoulder dress that went up to his upper thigh. It was a little tight on his sides and waist and a bit too short for his liking but otherwise it fit him perfectly.

"You know…I do look kinda good." He smiled then striked a pose, earning a loud cheer and whistle from the woman.

"YESSS, WORK IT QUEEN!"

Matsuda laughed then struck some more poses, getting more and more confident in each cheer and praise his girlfriend gave him.

"We should take a picture!!!" Otoha squealed as she stood up from the floor, quickly grabbing her phone then proceeded to grab Matsuda by the arm and pulled him in for a side hug. "Hehe~ Smiiile~~!"

SNAP

"We look so cute! Awww!" Otoha gushed as she looked at the picture, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. "More! More! Let's do more!"

Matsuda just smiled at her and nodded. He really couldn't resist her when she's being all adorable. "Of course, bunny."

Picture after picture, they posed for each one, goofy poses, suggestive poses, and just downright funny poses. If asked earlier, Matsuda never thought he'd say that he actually enjoyed this, but now he'll say he's having the time of his life!

"Hey, Tou-kun. You should wear my clothes more often, you look adorable in them." Otoha told him, a small smirk on her face as she repeated his words to her earlier.

He just rolled his eyes in response then smirked, "Sure, only if I get to keep them all too?"

"Sure, keep all of em. I still have your clothes after all."

"Aww man! I was about to copy what you said as well!"

"Try again next time, my love."

#matsuda #oc x canon #death note #matsuda touta #matsuda death note #touta matsuda #matsuda x oc #30 days of domestic fluff #30 day challenge #death note fanfic

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imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

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Becoming A Stark? (28)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 3395

Warnings: swearing, IW emotional trauma, the usual.

Author Note: There is some dialog from Infinity War used in this chapter. I don’t own it, but also there’s new stuff after it so don’t skip it. This is the final chapter. There will be a sequel that I’m not sure when will be posted but it will be coming. If you want to be tagged when it’s posted, let me know! Thank you for reading all of this and giving me so much love on my fist PP story. Let me know what you think of the finale.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Mom have you seen my jacket?” You ask as you walk from the living room back into the kitchen. You’re already dressed in ripped jeans, galaxy converse, and a grey AC/DC shirt.

“Which jacket?” Pepper asks as she stirs the eggs she’s cooking for you.

“My denim one? I wore it yesterday? Or maybe it was the day before?”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I looked there when I was getting ready. I didn’t see it.” Instead of being dressed for the office, Pepper is wearing running gear. “Are you going into the office today?”

“In a little bit. Your dad wants to go to the park for a run first.”

“Dad running? Since when?”

“I think your birthday is making him feel O-L-D.” Pepper teases as Tony walks down the stairs.

“I can still spell even if I’m getting old.” Tony responds. In his hand he’s holding your Rolling Stones jacket. “You left this on the stairs kiddo.”

“Oh, right! I meant to take it up last night.” You shrug it over your shoulders before sitting down at the food that Pepper made for you.

“What’s with the pep in your step today?”

“Field trip. I don’t have to be at school today.”

“Field trip?” Your dad asks as he sits down next to you. “Where to?”

“MoMA. My art class is going.”

“Ah so you and the young Parker are getting out of school to go look at art. How sweet.” Your dad says with a teasing tone remembering how Peter ended up in your art class after switching in in the second six weeks. “With how much it cost for you to go to that school, I would think you would spend more time at school than on field trips.”

“It’s educational. I promise.”

“Sure it is.”

“What your dad is trying to say is have fun.” Pepper says with a laugh. “He and I are going to go so can you lock up when you leave with Happy?” You nod. “Perfect. Have fun, love you, see you after school.”

“Love you kiddo.” Your dad kisses the top of your head. Pepper places a kiss behind him. You munch on your toast as they walk towards the door. Today should be a fairly normal day, apart from the field trip.

“Slow down, slow down. I’ll spell it out for you.” Tony tries to get Pepper to listen as he tries to explain his dream from last night while they walk through the park together.

“You’re totally rambling.”

“No I’m not.” Tony throws back in his own defense.

“You lost me.”

“Look, you know how you’re having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee.” Tony ties his jacket around his shoulders as he says this.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. And then you’re like ‘Oh my God. There’s no bathrooms. What am I gonna do? Oh, someone’s watching.’”

“Right.”

“‘Oh, I’m gonna go in my pants.’”

“And then you wake up and in real life you actually have to pee.” Pepper catches his drift.

“Yes.” Tony’s hand waves in agreement.

“Yeah. Everybody has that.”

“Right that’s the point I’m trying to make. Apropos of that, last night I dreamt we had a kid.”

“We have a kid. Y/N.” Pepper points out with a smile.

“No like a baby.” Tony explains. “It was so real. We named him after your eccentric uncle. Uh what was his name? Morgan! Morgan.”

“Right. So when you woke up…”

“Naturally.”

“...and thought we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“No.” Pepper smiles at him as she says it.

“I had a dream about it. It was so real.”

“If you wanted to have another kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” Pepper unties the sweater and taps on the nanoparticle home.

“I’m glad you brought this up, ‘cause it’s nothing. It’s just a housing unit for nanoparticles.”

“You’re not helping your case, okay?”

“No, this is detachable. It’s not a…”

“You don’t need that. Y/N didn’t need you to get that. I didn’t need you to get that. Your family needs you to put them first sometimes ok?”

“I know. I had the surgery. I’m just trying to protect us and future usses and that’s it. Just in case there’s a monster in the closet. Instead of, you know…”

“Shirts.”

“You know me so well.”

“God.”

“You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“Yeah, you know what there should be? No more surprises. We’re going to have a nice dinner tonight. Hear all about Y/N’s field trip. Show off this Harry Winston. Right?” Pepper chuckles at his antics. “And we should have no more surprises. Ever. I should promise you.”

“Yes.”

“I will.” Tony leans in to kiss Pepper. “Thank you.”

“Tony Stark?” Pepper pulls away at the sound of someone calling Tony’s name. Tony on the other hand can only roll his eyes because this was exactly the kind of thing he was talking about. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” Pepper grabs Tony’s hand at this. “Oh and uh congratulations on the wedding, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, are you giving out tickets to something?”

“We need your help. It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

“And who’s we?”

“Hey Tony.” Bruce appears by Stephen’s side, shocking both Tony and Pepper after so much time without him.

“Bruce.”

“Pepper.”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

“Are you ok?” Tony asks as Bruce falls into hugging him. What has happened while he was away?

“Ready for this field trip?” Peter asks as he sits down next to you on the bus.

“I’m always ready. Getting out of school for the day? Hell yeah.” You nudge your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Are you ready to see MoMA?”

“I guess so. I haven’t been since Ben died so…” Peter trails off.

“Babe, you haven’t been to MoMA since then? Why?”

“Ben really liked seeing the new exhibits and he would take me with him when he went. It just felt wrong to go without him.” Peter explains as the bus takes off from MSST and heads towards MoMA. “But there’s a first time to do stuff since you lose people I guess.”

“It’s going to be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.” You say as you take his hand in yours. Peter leans forward on the seat in front of you so he can look in your direction.

“Well that will make everything better.” Suddenly the hairs on Peter’s arm stand straight up.

“What?”

“Something’s wrong.” Peter mumbles. “Spidey senses are off the wall.” His voice is no louder than a whisper.

“Something like a giant donut spaceship floating over NYC seem off enough?” You say pointing towards the window beside him. He turns to look and the recognition on his face tells you all you need to know. Looks like Peter may not be on the field trip after all.

“Can you and Ned create a distraction?”

“Of course. But you’ll be safe?”

“Always am.” He kisses you on the lips really quick before you tap Ned on the shoulder. Ned spins around to look at you.

“Guy in the chair needs to distract everyone with me.” You say quickly, but as Ned turns he sees the ship out the window.

“Holy shit.” He then turns towards the back of the bus and yells, “We’re all gonna die! There’s a spaceship!” You follow him towards the back of the bus as people start calling out asking what’s going on. But your eyes catch Peter’s one more time before he opens the emergency exit window with his web shooter. While everyone else is watching the spaceship, your eyes are trailing out the back of the bus as Peter jumps off the bridge. You know he’ll web himself to safety, but it makes your stomach fall to your toes every time.

Peter swings into the park where he sees a big angry alien… if he had to guess, swinging a sword/ax at Tony. So he does the one thing he knows how to do, he grabs it. “Hey man. What’s up Mr. Stark?”

“Kid where did you come from?”

“Field trip, to MoMA.” Peter screams as he’s thrown in the other direction. “Uh what is this guy’s problem Mr. Stark?”

“Uh he’s from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.” As the alien throws cars around and Tony tries to laser him, Peter webs the car and swings it back at the alien. Which might just make him more angry, but that’s half the fun. Right as the alien swings his ax down again, a red object zooms by. “Kid that’s the wizard, get on it.”

“On it!” Swinging across New York, he finally grabs the wizard when a blue light grabs the wizard and pulls them both up towards the sky. “Uh, Mr. Stark, I’m being beamed up.”

“Hang on kid!” Wong traps the alien in an icy tundra, slicing off the hand that reaches up towards them. “Wong you’re invited to my wedding.” Tony shouts before jetting off to rescue his daughter’s boyfriend, who happens to be climbing up the side of the alien spaceship. “Give me a little juice FRIDAY. Unlock 17:A.” His boots morph together to form one big foot thruster. “Pete you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.” He says over the comms to Peter.

“But you said save the wizard.” Peter pulls his mask off as he says, “I can’t breathe.”

“We’re too high up. You’re running out of air.” If your boyfriend dies in space, you might kill your dad, so he’s going to do everything he can to save the kid.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Peter’s hands slip from the ship as he runs out of air. But the Iron Spider suit Tony had been working on arrives just in time to grab hold of Peter and save him from falling back to Earth. Instead he just hits the ship a time or two before having air to breathe again. Peter grabs a hold of the ship and stands back up. “Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

“Happy trails, kid. FRIDAY send him home.”

“Yep.” A parachute deploys and pulls Peter off the ship.

“Oh come on!” As Tony cuts into the side of the ship, FRIDAY alerts him of something else.

“Boss incoming call from Miss Potts.”

“Tony are you alright? What’s going on?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I just think we might have to push our 8:30 res.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause I’ll probably not make it back for a while.”

“Tell me you’re not on that ship.”

“Yeah.”

“God, no, please tell me you’re not on the ship.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Come back here Tony. I swear to God. I will take Y/N and I will leave for good. No more surprises. You promised.”

“Pep.”

“Come back here right now.” Static starts to crackle. “Come back.”

“Boss we’re losing her.”

“I’m going too…” Pepper’s voice breaks off as the call drops. While Tony is dealing with this call, Peter is climbing up his webs, back onto the ship he had been told not to be on.

All he can mutter is “I should have stayed on the bus,” as the doors shut on the ship.

The ship is no longer in the sky. You watched it fly away. But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because now you can’t get a hold of your dad or Peter. So you call the one person who has always had to be in the same position as you- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”

“Mom tell me Dad didn’t do something stupid and get on that ship.” Your school group is starting to walk into the first exhibit hall, but you need reassurance right now, not art pieces. Pepper doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell you that your dad is on that ship. “He’s on that ship isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Why would he be stupid enough to get on an alien space ship?”

“Because he’s stupid enough to think that saving the world falls on his shoulders and his alone.”

“I think Peter might have been stupid enough to think that too.” You say as soon as you know your class is out of hearing range.

“What?”

“I’ve tried calling him and he’s not picking up.”

“I thought he was on the field trip with you?”

“He was until he saw an alien ship in the sky. Then he decided that he needed to be a superhero. And now he won’t pick up the phone and he always picks up the phone, even when he’s in his suit.” You voice the concerns you’re having. “And my calls to Dad aren’t going through either which makes me think that Peter is with him.”

“He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a fifteen year old with him on a space ship.” Pepper tries to reassure you.

“But just because he doesn’t take Peter doesn’t mean that Peter isn’t stupid enough to follow him.”

“Sounds like we both need to date smarter men.”

“They’re book smart. I’m just not sure if they’re life smart.”

“I think I’d agree with that.”

“But we also love them too much to let them go.”

“That’s also true.” Pepper doesn’t comment on the fact that you just admitted that you love Peter. “But I also know that your dad will do anything to keep Peter safe if he’s with him. So you just focus on your school trip and at the end of the day, they’ll all come home safe.” Pepper’s promise doesn’t hold much truth to it, but you know your mom is trying to calm you more than anything. “I’m going to send Happy to pick you up from the museum and bring you to SI.”

“Right now?”

“No, but he’ll be there to pick you up when everyone heads back to school.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll just head back to school and then he can pick me up from school. But Mom, if you hear from Dad, can you tell him I love him?”

“He knows you love him.”

“But I didn’t say it to him this morning and if something happens to him…” You feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to him. He knows you love him.”

“You don’t know that. Every time he walks out the door to play Avenger, he could leave and not come back. He could die out there today. And I couldn’t take the two seconds it would have taken to tell him I loved him this morning.” The tears drizzle down your face as you mutter the words you feel in your soul. Out of the corner of your eye you see Ned waiting by the door leading to the next exhibit area. You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “So just if you hear from him tell him ok, Mom?”

“I will. Now just for now, don’t think about all of this. Just focus on the field trip and I’ll see you after it ok? Everything is going to be ok.”

“Mom? I love you.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.” You hang up the phone and Ned walks over.

“Everything alright?”

“No, but the universe doesn’t usually ask me before it makes it’s decisions.”

“Have you heard from Peter?” You shake your head.

“I can’t get a hold of him or my dad. My mom said my dad is on that donut that flew out of the sky, which makes me think if I can’t get a hold of Peter…”

“He’s on it too.” Ned finishes your thought. “Peter’s in space with Iron Man. That’s so cool.” Ned mumbles but then sees your face. “Ok, not the point right now. What’s our plan?”

“We don’t have one. We’re not Avengers. We just wait around until the rest of them hopefully show up.” And you do what you hope is the next best step, you text your aunt- SOS.

N:Don’t worry. Avengers are on it. Focus on school.

Why does everyone think you’ll be able to focus on anything when your dad and boyfriend disappeared on an alien spaceship?

Y:you all think i’m going to be able to focus on learning when my dad and boyfriend have just gone missing? that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard of coming from two of the smartest women i know.

N:I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but this isn’t on your shoulders. The Avengers will take care of this fight. I promise you, we’ll get them back. Anyway we have to.

“Anything?” Ned asks quietly, as your tour guide goes on pointing out different pieces of art. You shake your head.

“Apparently it’s an Avenger problem, not a me problem, according to Aunt Nat.”

“It’s still cool that you can just text Avengers.”

“Ned, my dad is literally an Avenger. It loses the coolness factor when your dad leaves on missions and you don’t know if he’ll come back alive or not.”

“That’s true I guess.” He looks at the art piece next to you. “But still you get to text the Black Widow! Isn’t that cool?”

“She’s just my Aunt Nat. I’ve hung out with her watching horror movies and talking about crushes. It feels different than saying I text the Black Widow.” You glance over at the statue, trying to take it in so you can write your report when you get home.

“They could have tried to put at least one blemish on it.” MJ mutters and you nod in agreement.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Ned?” You turn from MJ to see Ned staring at his hand. It’s turning to dust in front of his eyes. “Ned, what’s happening?”

“I think something’s wrong.” His other hand starts to turn into dust and you don’t understand.

“What is happening?”

“Something that can’t be good.” MJ says and you turn to see her hands turning to dust as well. “Y/N, something is wrong. Really wrong.” Your friends are turning to dust in front of your eyes. You can’t stop it, you can’t figure out what’s wrong. So you do the one thing you know to do when something is wrong- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Please tell me you’re not turning to dust too?”

“Mom, I don’t get what’s happening.”

“I don’t know either. But something isn’t right.” Your mom sounds stressed and worried at the same time you lift a hand to run through your hair and that’s when you see it. Your hand is disappearing before your eyes.

“Mom. Mom, I’m scared. My hand, it’s going.”

“Y/N, everything is going to be alright. It’s going to be ok.” Pepper doesn’t tell you that she has tears streaming down her cheeks. She needs to stay calm for you. You’re the one fading into nothing. She can stay calm for you in this moment.

“Mom, Mom. I don’t want to go. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. Mom, please make it stop.” Pepper closes her eyes as she listens to your pleads.

“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. Everything is going to be ok.” You watch in horror as Ned fades into nothing but a pile of dust.

“Mom, Ned’s gone. MJ’s seconds away from going. I don’t want to go too. Please make it stop.”

“Everything is going to be alright baby. Just breathe. Everything is going to be ok.” Pepper lies to you.

“Mom, I love you. Tell Dad I love him too. I don’t want to go. Tell him that. I never wanted to go. Having you two as parents was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Your eyes look in horror as MJ turns into dust too.

“We feel the same about you.”

“I love you. I love you so much Mom. I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. I love you.”

“We love you too.” Pepper knows she only has seconds left with you so she wants to make sure you know this before it’s too late.

“I love yo-”

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Compromised Earth.”

Sorry guys, I was super exhausted today, and my brain wasn’t thinking up anything else it wanted to write. I will try to get out some now and inventive ideas in the next week, but today you get another recovery continuation since that is what my brain wanted to write lol

I hope you still like and have a great day :)

His entire body hurt,

Not like it had before, obviously, more of a dull ache, the kind that comes after a day of really hard physical training after years of inactivity, but in that case, it still meant he was having trouble moving. He lay on his bed, in his quarters propped up by an ungodly amount of pillows. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure where Sunny had found them all only to assume that she had probably gone around stealing them from people.

If that was the case, at least no one said anything.

Aside from that, she had gone out of her way to assign someone to watch him when she couldn't be there. He was still experiencing some withdrawal symptoms,and she was unreasonably worried that something would happen with his health.

Katie, Krill, Ramirez, Mav, and a few others were taking it in shifts to watch him. He was sure if he was a little less of an extrovert, he would have hated it, but honestly the company was a comfort and it helped him to sleep easier knowing someone was there.

Ramirez was there now playing something on a vintage handheld gaming system of some sort cursing under his breath occasionally when things didn’t go his way. He looked up in concern, probably worried that he had disturbed the Commander’s sleep, though Adam was honestly fine, drifting in and out and in and out as the occasion called for it.

Recovery was slow and painful, and those some had suggested it, he refused meds to dull the pain.

He could already feel the hinted prod of long dormant cravings and so refused any and all painkillers knowing that, if he gave in once, he would be more likely to do it, again, and again, and again.

At least now he could stand, though only for short periods of time. Long enough to get up to go to the bathroom and take very short, hot showers, though both activities tended to leave him absolutely exhausted.

The Spiderlings had visited him earlier in the day babysat by Waffles and Dr. Katie, The had been very excited to see him, and he in return, though he had only been able to manage their presence for a short amount of time before being forced to send them off too tired to keep his eyes open.

He was just drifting off to sleep again when a commotion outside the door startled him awake. Ramirez stood form his seat a concerned expression on his face, setting his handheld down on the chair behind him and walking over to the door.

“What is it?”’

Ramirez shook his head and held up a hand, “Just let me check it out.” The door hissed open and then shut filling the room with a swelling of voices for a short moment.

“He's resting!”

He sat up recognizing sunny’s angered voice.

“I know that, but this is urgen-”

The door was shut, and the sound of voices was cut off leaving only the distant humming of muffled words. He pushed himself higher up in his sitting position, eyes squeezing shut against the ache.

He leaned forward, but couldn’t make out what was being said.

The longer it went on the more impatient he got, before eventually throwing his legs over the side of the bed and slowly getting to his feet.

His back and legs screamed in protest, and the metal of the ship was cool beneath his feet as he limped on both legs, to the door. Despite having one mechanical leg, his body was in so much pain that it didn’t bother to relegate the agony to a single side. THe door hissed open, only for him to find Ramirez, Sunny and Waffles facing off against an official UNSC officer looking more than a bit frazzled by the hostility being projected by his two crewmen, and now the dog, who also seemed less than pleased about this turn of events.

As the door opened, they all turned to look at him.

What a sight he must have been, shirtless, and covered in bandages facing off against some pretty severe irritation from the Steel-Eye suit. The skin about his back, arms and chest was extremely inflamed and irritated, making his already haggard appearance even more so. The officer quickly solution, while the other two looked at him in concern coming to his side to make sure he was ok.

Ramirez offered him an arm, but he waved it off, “What is this all about?”

The officer nodded nervously, “I am so sorry to bother you commander, but there have been some developments in relation to the burg, and the UNSC is calling a meeting to deal with it. Not to mention there have been some…. Questions as to your methods during the last engagement that the brass would like to discuss. They understand that you are still recovering, but based on recent circumstances, we cannot put things off any longer.”

“Like hell you can’t” Sunny snarled

Adam held up a hand to her, “Let me get changed, and I will accompany you.”

Both Sunny and Ramirez sputtered in protest as the officer saluted, the two of them following him back into his rooms with arguments on their tongues.

He limped over to the closet doors, ignoring them as it hissed open, reaching in to grab out a white shirt.

“Adam, you can barely walk, the UNSC has no right to ask you to come in if you aren’t recovered.” Sunny seemed to be working herself up into a killing mood.

The threaded one of his arms through a sleeve, painstakingly pulling the shirt closed fingers fumbling with the buttons, “This is my job, Sunny, and I intend to do it.”

Ramirez held out his hands, “But Sir, I am sure there is some sort of compromise. Maybe they could project you in as a hologram, that way you wouldn’t need to use up all your strength.”

Adam turned to look at him, “As commander of the UNSC fleet, I hardly intend to give off an air of weakness to my superiors. I can walk, so I will go. Or I may at the very least, try.”

“And slow down your recovery.” Sunny interjected

“If that’s what I must do.”

“I get your loyalty, Adam, but sometimes I think you cave to unreasonable demands.” He had gotten the shirt on and had managed to pants as well, despite his screaming back.

Shoes were going to be a real bitch.

He pulled on his uniform jacket and plucked his hat from its spot atop a shelf stuffing it onto his head as his shoulders seemed to moan with the agony.

“My mind is made up.”

He bent down to retrieve his shoes, but was struck by an excessive bout of pain that seemed to radiate up his spine and into his limbs. His knuckles were white against the door-frame.

Ramirez hurried forward, helped him to stand and retrieved his pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed. He sighed in relief feeling only mildly embarrassed as Ramirez knelt to help put on the shoes.

Sunny didn’t look pleased, but offered Ramirez the other shoe when he was done with the first.

Ramirez looked up, “We can’t change your mind?

Adam shook his head, “No.”

“Then we will accompany you. Make sure you don’t overwork yourself.” He glanced over at Sunny, “Right.”

She was clearly displeased, but nodded her bird-like head, “I will carry you if I must.” She glowered at him, “or if I feel like you are growing too stupid to take care of your own health.”

Her words tugged a half-hearted smile from him, “How sweet.”

He stood again, slowly helped to his feet by Ramirez, and together they stepped out of the room and off down the hall.

He tried to walk with a purpose, but after the first hallway he was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t been too hasty in his assessment of his own strength. His feet were like led boot encased in concrete, his back hurt horrendously, and his chest was feeling a little tight, though he kept that to himself.

Their pace had significantly slowed by the time he made it to cargo bay, And both Ramirez and Sunn were looking at him as if they expected him to collapse at any moment.

He was glad they were there for that eventuality for it was definitely seeming like an eventuality now. The officer was waiting for him, and upon seeing his face, the man’s eyes grew wide and his skin blanched.

Did he really look that bad?

“Are you alright, commander.”

“Yes, let's just get inside so I can sit down.” The man didn’t argue with him, hurrying onto the UNSC shuttle.

Climbing up that ramp might as well have been climbing up Everest, and the only relief was a seat waiting for him when they stepped on.

He took his seat to exhausted to even keep his eyes open.

Aware partially of Sunny and Ramirez buckling the harness around him before taking their own seats.

He fell asleep on the way in, or at least he thought he did, jostled awake when landing came.

It took everything he had to force his eyes back open and unstrap himself from the seat. Ramirez took his offered hand and pulled him to his feet.

His legs were so weak.

Light spilled in from the Shuttle doors, and together they stepped outside into the light of earth. He closed his eyes for the sun on his skin, which helped to make him feel just a little better.

“Commander.”

He looked up, surprised to find a good portion of the UNSC brass waiting for him at the base of the ramp.

His old captain , now Admiral Kelly being one of those.

She took one look at him and frowned immediately, “Are you alright, Commander.”

He limped down the ramp, “yes ma’am, I’m fine.”

“You look like shit…. And that’s me being diplomatic.”

He gave a weak smile as the others looked on in concern, “I'll be alright as long as we get somewhere where I can sit.”

“Then let's hurry and do that.” Admiral Kelly, grabbed him by the arm and steered him over to a waiting truck.

It felt like his knees were going to buckle but he managed to get in, with some help from Sunny.

He fell asleep again resting against Sunny’s shoulder shaken awake when the truck pulled to a stop in front of UNSC headquarters. There was a party waiting for them, and he was deeply regretting agreeing to this.

He climbed out of the Truck behind Sunny stumbling when his feet hit the pavement.

Ramirez grabbed him by the arm and helped him to stand.

A light trembled had started up in his body, and he felt as if he was going to collapse.

He was so dizzy, his legs were so weak.

The party came to meet with him, “We are sorry Commander, that this was such a bad time, but there have been some developments with the Burg, we required discussing with you immediately.”

He nodded, though only half understanding what they were saying.”

“You plan managed to foil the larger part of the attack, but it looks like a Tesraki agent, paid off by the other side managed to get into the Gromm city, and steal some of the warp codes to sell for a prophet. We can’t be sure, but earth might have been on that list.”

“That sure got his attention.”

“The Burg might have our warp codes.”

“Yes.”

“Did you contact the GA?”

“Immediately.”

“Good… hopefully they might help us get a Nexus up in time.” His feet were a hundred pounds each sliding towards 1000. The curb before him was a seven foot leap.

He stepped up and…. Made it, by the skin of his teeth.

He pulled the other foot up and paused on the edge of the curb staring straight forward.

“We have already begun construction-.”

They continued talking, and he heard himself respond a few times. The faces before him warped in and out of focus continuing to speak. He spoke, though he had no idea what he was saying.

His vision started to go white.

It honestly scared him.

He had passed out before, and his vision had gone black, but this time it started to go white washing everything of color as he stared forward. His ears rang and his head spun.

Before he knew it he was sitting on the ground.

“Get his head down, between his knees.” Someone was saying.

A hand rested on his back.

He was breathing hard, but every time he tried to lift his head, the world started to go white again.

So he stayed there, not sure for how long before, finally he was able to lift his head.

A group of very worried people and one Alien stood around him. Sunny knelt at his side, Ramirez at his other, and a couple of the Admirals in front of him, others standing behind.

“Sweet mother earth, commander, we thought you were having a stroke.”

“The paramedics are on their way.” Someone was saying

“Call them off.” He mumbled, “I’m ok, just a little lightheaded.”

“If we had known you were this sick, commander, we would never have asked you to come.”

“We tried to tell you that.” Sunny snapped, but Adam rested a hand on her arm.

“Relax Sunny, they had no way of knowing. Help me up.”

She hesitated.

“Help me up.” He ordered, and she did so only grudgingly. He was back on his feet now though he kept his head down worried the world would go white again.

“Do you need a doctor?’ someone was asking.

A bottle of water was pressed into one of his hands.

He took a drink letting the cool liquid slide down his throat, “I'm alright.’

I’m alright ended up amounting to almost passing out three more times before they made it to the ‘war room’ and that was before Sunny began ignoring his orders and simply carried him the rest of the way.

He would have been embarrassed, if he had the cognitive capacity to do so, and probably would have been embarrassed when the paramedics showed up to place and IV and look him over once they got there.

They offered medication.

He refused.

Still concerned at the little cravings hinting at the back of his mind.

But there were more important things to deal with than that, one of them being the Burg.

And their possible knowledge of earth’s location.

At least he had managed to save SOME planets

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glassworkspiderlilies · 4 years

Text

got me good vibes thank god i ain’t driving

Fire Emblem Three Houses | Dimitri/f!Byleth | AO3 Summary: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd goes grocery shopping at 3:30AM and meets an enigmatic girl in the dairy aisle. It goes from there. (Or, something-of-a-college-cryptid Byleth comes and goes as she pleases and befriends the Blaiddyd heir. Or he befriends her. In any case, it's an interesting semester.) Notes: Stress relief fic of no real discernible plot; best described with “head empty, just typing”. I’m serious, please do not think too hard while reading, I got nothing LOL. On the other hand, I had a lot of fun. Approximately (and absurdly) 10k words; more notes on AO3.

“Hey, Dimitri. One of those nights, huh?”

“Yes. Want a Mad Bull?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

It’s 3:30AM, and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is grocery shopping. The cashier on graveyard shift is well-acquainted with him now, at least on a surface level, as one becomes when you’re (usually) the only two people in the store at an ungodly hour. Dimitri buys him energy drinks sometimes. The cashier slips him extra coupons if he’s got them.

A combination of insomnia and nightmares keeps Dimitri up a lot, and while he can mostly regulate the insomnia, some nights are just particularly bad. Alternatively, if he is asleep but wakes up at any point, it’s too difficult for him to fall asleep again, so he may as well get up.

It’s not the worst, since he’s used to it by now, and at university. There are things enough that he can do during these witching hours, grocery shopping at the 24-hour supermarket being one of them.

On the rare occasion there are other people in and out of the place, but Dimitri only sees them from a distance as they go about their own shopping. At this time, everyone’s minding their own business for one reason or another.

That’s why it’s a surprise when he turns into the dairy aisle to see a young woman standing in front of the cheeses. She’s wearing a soft gray hoodie with pink striping on the cuffs and hem, her hands in her pockets and the hood covering her hair, dark jeans, and knee-high boots. Despite the more casual style, it strikes Dimitri as somehow a little dressy, though Sylvain would snort and say he’d be one to talk. (Dimitri can’t help it. It’s how he was raised; he feels most comfortable in button-downs and crisp jackets. His most casual is a neat sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, like now. And anyway, Sylvain seemed to have fun enough choosing things to add to Dimitri’s wardrobe. At this point, all of Dimitri’s friends borrowed his clothes if they fit—even Felix, who always did so without asking, and sometimes Dimitri never even knew.)

The girl doesn’t even turn despite the sound of Dimitri’s cart, and he thinks that he’ll wait politely for her to finish her selection before making his, pretending to look at the nearest shelf. But she stands there for a few minutes too long without moving, and so after some deliberation and hesitation, Dimitri decides to approach. It’s his last aisle, and he more or less knows what he wants, so he’ll be quick and out of here.

She doesn’t move even as he comes to stand next to her, and he murmurs “excuse me” as he looms a little over her to reach for a block of Gautier cheese. An unfortunate yet unavoidable action based on positioning, because she is spectacularly dead center of the things he wants, and she still doesn’t move despite the proximity.

Dimitri glances at her, wondering if she’s okay. Her expression is totally blank; she’s either zoning out or focusing extremely hard.

Well. It’s pretty late—or early—after all.

He reaches for a second block and puts the two into his cart, stepping away from the girl to turn his attention to the yogurts that he gets for Sylvain on the next section over. He takes two of the mixed berry ones first before debating over the others.

“Plain or spicy?”

It takes him a minute to register the voice and the words, soft and pleasantly mid-tone.

Dimitri turns to find the girl looking at him, and he thinks oh, she’s really pretty, now that he’s seen her in full view, before actually connecting the dots that she’s the one who had spoken.

“Um, spicy?” he offers, and the girl seems to think for a moment before she nods decisively.

He watches as she reaches for two blocks of artisan cheese, flecks of herbs and spices visible through the packaging—not one he’s tried before, or honestly remembered seeing here—and turns to plop them squarely in his hands, balancing them perfectly on top of the yogurt containers.

She then walks away, putting her hands back in her pockets.

“Uh?” Dimitri says belatedly, looking between the girl’s retreating figure and the cheese.

Am I supposed to buy these for her? He wonders, as he puts everything in his hands in his cart. He grabs a six-pack variety of yogurt before rushing after her, but she’s gone by the time he makes it to the registers.

“All set?” the cashier yawns, and Dimitri blinks at him.

“Wasn’t there a girl just now? In a gray hoodie?” Dimitri asks, laying down his purchases.

“Hm? Oh yeah, she walked out without buying anything,” the cashier says, starting to scan the items, “People just come in here to kill time sometimes.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, looking towards the doors.

He completes his transaction, leaving the Mad Bull for the cashier, who waves his hand gratefully, and makes his way back to his car. The girl is still nowhere in sight; Dimitri realizes he wishes that she were.

He loads his groceries into his trunk and drives back to the dorms.

By the time he finishes finding space in the fridge for everything, it’s a little past 4AM. In about an hour and a half, Ingrid will be up for her morning run, and she always welcomes company. Dimitri shoots her a text for when she wakes up; he’ll pick up coffee and pastries for them too.

For now, he might as well work on his upcoming paper a little more.

“So, what’s with the special cheese in the fridge?” Sylvain asks later that day, when their childhood quartet all meet up for lunch.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, remembering. “That. Um…there was a girl in the supermarket who just kind of…had me buy them?”

Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid blink at him.

“What do you mean, ‘had you buy them’?” Felix says.

Dimitri recounts the whole experience.

“And you bought them,” Felix says, with his brows furrowed, his eyes and tone clearly conveying what the hell, that was so stupid.

Dimitri just shrugs.

“We should eat it later,” Ingrid says, biting into her burger, and Sylvain laughs.

“Yeah, leave it to Ingrid,” he says. “But we should. To commemorate Dimitri’s weird 3AM experience.”

Sylvain makes a big deal of it when they do eat the cheese later, when their classes have ended for the day and they’re back in their suite. He puts the crackers on a plate and tries to cut the cheese into fancy shapes, which only Dimitri actually appreciates.

“Oooh, spicy,” Ingrid says, as she pops a cube into her mouth. “Hey, this is really good!”

Felix says nothing, but reaches for more. Sylvain laments about the lack of appreciation for his artistic attempts, but also agrees that the cheese is great when he finally eats a piece himself.

Dimitri, as always, cannot really taste the flavor, but he likes both the scent and the texture, at least.

“So Dimitri finally meets a girl, we get a brand new cheese, what else is next?” Sylvain says, leaning back on the sofa.

“It wasn’t like that,” Dimitri protests, then pauses. “But she was very pretty,” he admits quietly, and Sylvain grins. “Like a goddess,” he adds, even quieter.

Sylvain smacks his own face in secondhand embarrassment.

“There, you see? It’s Dimitri’s romantic awakening.”

“Hardly matters unless he gets to see her again,” Felix says lazily, and Sylvain is the one that makes a wounded noise.

Dimitri, on the other hand, merely looks thoughtful. He hadn’t actively thought about wanting to see her again until Felix brought it up. But he thinks he might like to, if the chance presented itself.

“It’s the awakening,” Sylvain whisper-hisses, and no one seems to care.

“Stranger things have happened,” Ingrid says, in response to Felix’s statement and not Sylvain’s, “In any case, you should get this again.”

She tries to eat the rest. Felix fights her for it.

(When Dimitri goes shopping again two weeks later, he can’t find the cheese anywhere. Ingrid looks let down, Sylvain looks surprised, and Felix looks offended.

“What the fuck? Go find your 3AM cheese goddess again and ask her,” Felix says, and Sylvain laughs a little too hard.)

Dimitri’s not sure why he allows himself to be dragged to parties, but he keeps letting it happen. Ingrid had brought them news that Dorothea was throwing her beginning-of-semester bash, which was always a Big Deal, and several of their mutual friends were going. Ingrid couldn’t not attend, because she was good friends with Dorothea. Sylvain was absolutely going, because he would never miss a party. Felix had not wanted to go, but Sylvain had somehow convinced him, and if Felix was going to suffer, then Dimitri better damn well suffer too, and so he relented from the combined pressure of Felix’s glare and Sylvain’s coaxing.

He supposed he could use the change of pace every now and then. And he could always slip away; people were usually too drunk to notice after a couple hours.

Sylvain borrows a shirt from Dimitri’s closet and wears it with three buttons undone. Felix steals a black jacket from Dimitri’s closet and wears it halfway down his arms. Ingrid does not take anything from his closet this time, but does borrow one of his hair ties.

Everyone tells Dimitri to change when he comes out of his room; Sylvain, as usual, takes control to make Dimitri more “party ready”, which consists of a long blue coat and off-white shirt—with several buttons undone, of course. (Dimitri buttons at least two up again later.)

The party is loud and raucous as it’s meant to be, but he’s amongst mostly friends, and so he’s actually not that anxious. There’s a few people he doesn’t know, but he is otherwise at least mostly familiar with everyone else. Annette bounces up and down when she sees them walk in, tapping Mercedes on the shoulder, who was conversing with Ashe. Dedue appears a moment later, and Dimitri’s main friend group is all here.

“Yay! I’m glad you made it too, Dimitri,” Annette says cheerfully. “Gosh—frowning already, Felix? Here, have a drink.”

Annette proffers her own cup.

“You already drank out of this,” Felix scowls, but he takes it anyway, and grimaces when he takes a sip. “What is this, fruit juice?”

“Felix is too good for Noa liquer,” Annette declares, turning her nose up, “Fine, go get yourself a beer or whatever!”

Felix teases her by holding her cup too high to reach, and she screeches at him until he finally puts it back in her hands. Mercedes chuckles as she watches them, and Sylvain takes the opportunity to compliment her dress with a roguish wink. She returns the compliment easily enough, with genuine warmth, which always throws Sylvain off.

“Dedue! I was surprised to hear you were coming,” Dimitri smiles, and Dedue smiles back.

“Dorothea asked if Ashe and I could make a few things,” he said. “Since I am here, I may as well make sure nobody gets in too much trouble.”

Dimitri chuckles.

“Oooh, Dedue, Ashe, you made food?” Ingrid chimes in, looking excited. While some things had obviously been bought, Dorothea was pretty picky about the specifics of her parties when she threw one. “I’m excited!”

“We did a really good job, if I say so myself,” Ashe smiles. “The meat skewers came out really well, so you and Felix should grab some while you get a chance.”

“Oh, you bet I will,” Ingrid says, already wandering away. “Hear that Felix? I’m not saving you any!”

Felix yells back, and in a second they all start wading deeper into the place, and everyone starts to branch off on their own. Dedue still mostly sticks with Dimitri, though, and the two of them stick to the peripheries.

Dorothea’s parties really span the entire apartment building; her neighbors across the way and downstairs are either friends or people she’s friendly with, so the doors to their apartments are also open for more space. If Dimitri thinks about it, it’s really nice, the way everything comes together.

As the night wears on and he’s consumed a couple drinks that Mercedes had kindly procured for him (with a reminder to drink slow), he begins feeling—looser, braver, almost a little giddy. Dedue is in conversation with Ashe, and Dimitri slips away to the kitchen for a moment, because there had been an extra dish of saghert and cream that he now wants in a very visceral way.

The kitchen is surprisingly empty—except for one person, who has climbed up on the counter, and is perched on her knees as she rifles through the topmost cabinet. The slit up the side of her skirt shows a generous bit of leg with the way she’s positioned, and Dimitri stares before he tells himself not to. The girl takes out two bags of—some kind of snack, and when she turns her head, Dimitri sees that she is holding another bag with her teeth, and also that he recognizes her.

“From the dairy aisle,” he blurts, and she blinks at him before trying to climb off the counter.

She teeters a little and Dimitri automatically moves to help her, in which he actually just lifts her off the counter by the armpits like a wayward cat.

“Oh—sorry,” he says, realizing that the action was way too familiar for someone who barely qualified as an acquaintance.

But she doesn’t look at all offended, and merely sets all three bags of chips down before she speaks.

“Thanks,” she says, then stares at him. “From the dairy aisle,” she states, in a manner that is confirming that yes, that is where they met.

A pause. She is so, so pretty, Dimitri thinks. There is sparkly gold eyeshadow brightening her already-bright green eyes, making her stare more intense. The more they’re at a standstill, the more nervous he becomes.

“I couldn’t find the cheese again,” he blurts.

She nods.

“It’s only stocked the fourth Tuesday of the month,” she says, ripping open a bag of chips, and taking a few to cram in her mouth before offering them to Dimitri.

“Oh,” he says, taking a chip. “It was very good. My friends liked it a lot too.”

She stares for a moment again, then offers him a tiny smile, a brief upturn of her lips. She had expected him to, he realizes, and she’s at least minutely pleased to have that expectation fulfilled. A short laugh escapes him at how odd this all is.

“You didn’t buy anything that night,” he says, though it comes out as a question.

She shrugs.

“I was just there,” she says, offering the chip bag again.

“Just there,” he repeats, taking more chips. At 3:30AM. “To…hang out?”

She gives a brief shake of her head.

“To stare at a specifically stocked cheese, only to give them to a stranger to buy?” Dimitri tries again.

She blinks at him, popping more chips in her mouth.

“Not a stranger,” she says, after she finishes chewing.

“Pardon? Forgive me, I don’t…recall us meeting before that night?” he says. He would have remembered someone like her, he’d think.

“You’re Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” she says, and he blinks at her use of his full name. Her eyes crease in amusement at his expression. “Not a stranger to me.”

Ah.

“But you are a stranger to me,” he says, and she shrugs again, as if saying it’s not like it’s something he could help.

“Byleth,” she offers, putting the open bag of chips in his hands, and opening up another one. (He looks at the labeling on the front. Beast meat and onion flavor. Huh.) “Want to go on an adventure, Dimitri?”

He looks back at her, mouth slightly open. She continues to stare at him, munching away from the other bag of chips, waiting for his response.

“Okay,” he says.

She nods, then rinses her fingers at the sink before motioning for him to follow with her head. She takes the two bags of chips with her as she walks out of the kitchen.

She navigates the crowd until she finds a group of three, all dressed looking as if they could kill, dumping the chip bags into the hands of a redhead.

“Hm? Chatterbox, where did you find these?” the girl says, reading the unusual flavors.

“Kitchen cabinet,” Byleth says, and the girl shoots her a half-exasperated look, but questions no further.

She hands one of them to the girl with blonde curls beside her, and Dimitri proffers the third bag as well, which the redhead also takes with a curious glance at him. Byleth makes to leave, but the boy with lavender hair and sparkly eyeshadow—the same that glints on Byleth’s eyelids, he realizes—stops her.

“Whoa, hold on there, friend! Not so much an introduction?”

“You know him already,” Byleth says, and the boy frowns at her.

“Yuri Leclerc,” he says, turning to Dimitri.

“Name’s Hapi,” the redhead pipes up, still looking at the chips.

“And I am Constance von Nuvelle,” the blonde says, tilting up her chin with a haughty smile.

“Dimitri,” he says, a little shyly, since they already know him. “A pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” Yuri says, with a nod of his head, before glancing back at Byleth. “Are you leaving already? And kidnapping the Blaiddyd Heir?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

A pause.

“Well, carry on then,” Yuri says with a shrug. “Want a drink before you go?”

“Yes,” Byleth says.

They wait as Yuri makes his way to the counter full of bottles a little ways away, watching as he makes a cocktail in a shaker with professional ease. He strains the drink into three cups, carrying all of them back, and Byleth and Dimitri take one each.

“You get what I’m drinking,” Yuri says, eyes wicked, and does not offer up what it is. Dimitri sips, and by the way it burns, he can tell it’s strong. Yuri looks faintly impressed with Dimitri’s lack of reaction beyond a few rapid blinks. “I’ll tell the Heir’s friends where he went, if I see them asking.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri says, realizing that he doesn’t know where any of them are at the moment.

Byleth merely nods, and motions for Dimitri to follow again.

The night air is refreshing, and Dimitri feels pleasantly floaty as he trails after his new friend. They round the Black Eagle complex and head into the dark woods behind; he doesn’t know where they’re going and feels like he shouldn’t ask; he has an idle thought that he should text one of his friends to let them know, but Byleth looks back at him to make sure he’s following and he can only think about how pretty she is. He smiles at her, and she tilts her head before reaching for his hand.

“Hand,” Dimitri says, looking down at them.

“Hand,” Byleth agrees. “The ground is uneven here.”

He looks a little longer and then swings them a little. Byleth looks amused.

He enjoys the silent companionship between them for a little while but quickly becomes curious, so he begins asking her questions. What year was she? A senior. Where did she live on campus? In Abyss, at the Ashen Wolf dorm. Her major? More or less the teaching program, with a focus on weapons and tactics. Technically it was something of a double major, paired with history and international studies. It was complicated. Her weapon concentrations? This year, faith and reason magic. She’d already passed for swords, brawling, and bows.

He stares at her open-mouthed as she answers his questions with easy patience.

“That’s…quite the curriculum,” he says slowly, “When do you sleep?”

She glances at him.

“I manage,” she says, “I could say the same for you.”

He pauses, looking up at the sky as he collects his thoughts, sipping at his drink absentmindedly. She must already know what his curriculum more or less was—the three heirs apparent of Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester attending the same school the same year had been quite the news, and though their ideas of management differed, they did also overlap in areas. A handful of their core classes were inevitably the same before they branched off into their own areas of interest. But in any case, all of them were double-majoring with incredibly heavy courseloads to help prepare for their futures.

“It’s just insomnia,” Dimitri says instead.

“Ah,” she says, nodding. “So, 3AM grocery shopping.”

“So 3AM grocery shopping,” he agrees.

He’s not sure how long they’ve been walking, but even if it’s been a long time, he finds this all terribly pleasant. A distant part of him is aware that he would not be this at ease had it not been for the drinks he’s had tonight. Alcohol is wonderful.

Byleth pushes through some branches, and they walk into a clearing, and Dimitri looks up at an enormous tree, his mouth open.

“Ta-da,” Byleth says, though her inflection doesn’t change, “Biggest tree on campus. Good place to sleep under.”

“Now?” Dimitri says, with some alarm.

“You could camp if you wanted to. But in the daytime,” Byleth tells him, drinking from her cup. “Try it sometime.”

He blinks at her, unsure if this is just a general suggestion or specifically geared advice.

“Not sure I could find it again,” he says, because he doesn’t recall the path they took at all, too distracted by other things. Also, despite the moon, it had been quite the dark trek.

“I’ll bring you,” she says simply.

They go closer to the tree, and Byleth reaches up to one of the lowest branches and snaps off two thin stalks of leaves, inspecting them before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go back.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, a little dumbfounded, “Okay.”

They make their way back. Along the way, Dimitri finishes his drink, Byleth stumbles over a tree root (her shoes are heeled, he realizes just now, how did she trek all the way in those?), and Dimitri somewhat insistently offers her a piggy back ride. She accepts, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck with both of their empty cups stacked in one hand, and Dimitri feels just a little giddy. He wants to run. (He tells himself not to.)

“You know,” she says after a while, resting her chin on his shoulder, “You shouldn’t follow strangers into dark and unknown places.”

“Not a stranger,” Dimitri says, feeling exceedingly proud of himself for the response.

He feels rather than sees her smile, and is disappointed he can’t see it. When they make it to Dorothea’s, Sylvain and Felix are outside, and the former hollers when he sees him.

“You stupid boar, why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?!” Felix hisses when they near, and Dimitri’s eyes widen.

Byleth hops off of his back (and Sylvain stares), and Dimitri pulls his phone out of his pocket to see six notifications of missed calls and texts.

“It was on silent,” Dimitri says apologetically, and Felix huffs. “Sorry.”

“Aw, no harm no foul,” Sylvain says, “Dimitri was just occupied, huh?”

“I kidnapped him,” Byleth says, throwing the two empty cups into a nearby trash can.

“We had an adventure,” Dimitri says, enthusiastically.

“Did you now,” Sylvain says, looking at Byleth, who merely stares back and adjusts her posture like a challenge. It only serves to make Sylvain more intrigued.

“This is Byleth,” Dimitri says, “From the dairy aisle!”

“Oh, the 3AM cheese goddess?” Sylvain says with a laugh, and Felix flushes at the stupid moniker as Byleth blinks in surprise.

“Yes,” Dimitri nods, “She says it’s only stocked…uh…”

“The fourth Tuesday of the month,” she supplies.

“What the fuck?” Felix says incredulously.

She shrugs. A chime goes off, and this time Byleth reaches into her bra to pull out her phone. All three boys stare at her.

“Gotta go,” she says, tapping out a quick reply. “Balthus is fighting someone.”

“Ah,” Dimitri says, wilting, his eyes and countenance like a sad puppy.

“You’ll see me around,” Byleth tells him with a faint smile, and disappears back into the apartment.

“He’s smitten,” Sylvain whispers to Felix, watching Dimitri stare after her.

“Disgusting,” Felix says back, scowling. “He’s also drunk. Did she say there was a fight?”

They head back in to find the rest of their friends to assure them that Dimitri is alive. There is indeed a fight, but a result of two very brawny guys—one presumably Balthus, the other Raphael—testing their abilities against each other. Dorothea is yelling, trying to get them to take it outside before they break things in her apartment and someone else gets hurt, to no avail.

Dimitri catches Yuri’s eye from across the crowd, who grins and waves in a cheeky sort of manner, pointing back to the ring. Byleth then appears, sliding her way in between them with impeccable timing and launching her own surprise attack. She punches the one with wild dark hair in the gut, then grabs him by the wrist and throws him to the floor. The apartment erupts in cheers.

“Aw, what the hell, Byleth!” Balthus yells, sitting up.

“Didn’t you hear the lady?” she says to both him and Raphael, who is also cheering, “Outside.”

“You deserved that, B,” Hapi chimes in, “You started it.”

“Alright, alright,” Balthus groans. “Round two outside, then!”

Sylvain elbows Felix, and they both look at Dimitri.

“Smitten,” Sylvain says.

“Disgusting,” Felix says, with feeling.

(Alcohol is terrible, Dimitri decides the next morning, when he wakes up with a massive hangover. He ventures out of his room and all three of his childhood friends—who are somehow already up, how was that possible?—stare at him in one coordinated movement to incredibly eerie effect. They also look how he feels.

“We’ve got the hangover cures,” Ingrid says, placing a plate of greasy breakfast food down as Sylvain holds up the full coffeepot and Felix rattles their mega-size bottle of aspirin. “So spill about what the hell happened last night.”

Dimitri demurs momentarily to brush his teeth and wash his face. After, he sits down at their common table, accepts a cup of coffee, and dutifully spills.)

It’s two weeks before he sees Byleth again, having not being able to catch a glimpse of her anywhere. Garreg Mach was a big university, and he hadn’t recognized her from campus previously, but…now that he was looking, he’d kind of expected to at least see her on occasion from a distance.

It’s another late-night chore night, and it’s about 1AM when he hauls his basket of dirty clothes to the laundry room. He expects the potential of others doing their laundry since the hour isn’t that late, but when he pushes through the doors he does not expect to see Byleth sitting on top of one of the washing machines, legs drawn up, a hardcover book perched on her lap.

She holds up a hand in greeting, as if she had been waiting for him to walk through the door.

“Hello,” Dimitri returns, blinking a few times, disoriented.

One, her legs are distracting him, because they are so bare and it doesn’t look like she’s wearing pants. Two, while she isn’t disallowed here to do laundry, this is the Blue Lion dorm. She lives in the Ashen Wolf dorm, which is oddly isolated from every other housing, so there is absolutely no reason for her to be doing laundry here, at a location of total inconvenience, at 1AM.

“What are you doing here?” he ventures, walking over and setting down his basket in front of the empty one next to her.

Byleth lets her legs down so they dangle over the side of the washing machine, just over her sandals. She is wearing pants, he sees—or shorts, rather. They’re just…very short, and her oversized sweatshirt nearly covers them. She looks comfy, at least.

“Reading,” Byleth responds, holding up the book, A Treatise on Srengian Weaponcraft.

“You’re studying—here?” Dimitri asks incredulously.

Byleth shrugs.

“Good of a place as any,” she says.

“I...guess it could be,” Dimitri relents.

It’s not busy at this time, and the machines are top-notch, so the noise they produce could be acceptable enough ambience. He stares at her a minute before he moves on to load his clothes into the machine, carefully measuring out the detergent and pressing his desired settings. Byleth watches him, and when the immediate task is completed, Dimitri nervously faces her.

“I um…I’m sorry for my behavior at the party,” he says, trying not to wring his hands as he thinks about the piggyback ride. “My actions were—overfamiliar.”

“On the contrary,” Byleth counters easily, “You helped me out.”

He brightens a little at that, and she tilts her head at him. After a moment she smiles a little, and Dimitri feels his heart skip a beat.

“How was the morning after?” she asks, and Dimitri coughs at the wording.

“Not ideal,” he admits, rubbing the max of his neck. “My tolerance is not very high. But I recovered.”

“I’ll note that,” she says, with a nod. “Yuri hits hard with his drinks. You took it well, considering.”

He debates whether to bring up his lack of taste, but decides against it. That conversation always goes one way, and he doesn’t want to bring up past tragedies and traumas, right now.

“You were okay?” he asks instead, and she gives him an amused look.

“High tolerance,” she says. “Father’s side.”

“Ah,” Dimitri nods. Not that he knows her very well, but she hadn’t seemed drunk at all—though by the time he’d run into her in the kitchen he wasn’t confident in his own observational accuracy. He doesn’t know where to go from here, and his eyes fall on her book. “So…Srengian weaponry?” he tries, and winces at the awkwardness of the delivery.

But Byleth nods.

“Known for their maces,” she says absently, cracking the text open again, “But their other weapons have some good durability.” She pauses, looking at him. “Might be a worthwhile investment.”

He blinks. The Blaiddyd line is well-known for their greater-than-average strength, and Dimitri is no exception. Still, he hates how easily things break in his hands; even iron and steel can shatter in his grip if he’s startled. But Byleth offers this suggestion so matter-of-factly, as if she were recommending a flavor of ice cream or color of shirt, that he can’t even be embarrassed about it.

“It might be,” Dimitri says eventually. “I’ll look into it. Sylvain has contacts in Sreng.”

“So do I, if you need another,” Byleth says, and Dimitri blinks at her again.

Sreng’s clan politics are notoriously turbulent, and Sylvain only had actual contacts because he had been trying to improve relations as the next head of House Gautier, whose lands bordered Sreng. Otherwise, Sreng wasn’t usually a place people had, or could get, contacts in.

“You…have contacts in Sreng?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“My father used to be a mercenary before a bodyguard,” Byleth says absently, “So I grew up as one, too. We used to travel a lot.”

There’s more to it, Dimitri can tell, but he doesn’t push, purely because he doesn’t know what, exactly, to ask.

“There more I learn about you, the less I seem to know,” he says with a wry smile after a minute.

She stares at him.

“And to me, you feel familiar,” she murmurs.

His eyes widen.

“Oh,” he says.

“Oh,” she agrees.

There’s silence.

“I only ever seem to meet you unexpectedly,” he ventures, after a long while. The washer beeps, the lock to the door releasing. He goes to open it.

“I’m not a ghost,” Byleth says, watching as he takes out his damp clothes and begins moving them to the dryer.

“That’s relieving,” he smiles. “I also only ever seem to see you at night.”

She only smiles faintly at that.

“Let’s spar,” she says.

“Wha—now?”

“No, tomorrow,” she says. “During the day.”

He’s not entirely sure what brought this on, but he does think he’d like very much to see her fight.

“After one o’clock?” He asks, wracking his brain for his schedule, and she considers it for a moment before nodding and hopping off of the washing machine.

She slides her feet back into her sandals ad begins walking away. Dimitri panics for a moment, because they haven’t hashed out any details.

“Wait! How will we—?”

“I’ll make myself visible,” Byleth says, already halfway out the door as she peeks back, “You won’t miss me.”

And then she’s gone. Dimitri shakes his head as he finishes moving the rest of his laundry. Once he straightens back up, he realizes she’s left her book.

A tether, he thinks.

After a moment, as he waits for his clothes to dry, he picks it up and cracks it open.

A good of a place to read as any.

He tries to not tell his friends after lunch where he’s going (and technically, he doesn’t even know), but his antsiness is apparent, so his secret-keeping fails spectacularly. Sylvain and Ingrid tag team him, and he gives Ingrid a betrayed look.

“Fellas, do we think it’s a date?” Sylvain asks, holding out his hands as if he’s addressing a council.

“It’s sparring,” Ingrid says, “Not a date.”

“Could be a date,” Felix says.

“Only you would consider that a date,” Sylvain laments.

Felix shoves him. Dimitri hurries along, trying to leave them behind in the cafeteria to no avail. He really wishes he had been more insistent on details last night, because in a few moments, he’ll be at a loss of where he should be heading.

It’s a needless worry, because as he walks out, he is reminded of Byleth’s words. In the distance, where the space opens up and there are benches situated along walkways, an enormous amount of birds are flocking.

“Oh,” Dimitri says, and when his friends catch up behind him, they also stare.

“What the hell is that?” Felix says, and Dimitri picks his way towards the mass.

“Byleth, I think,” Dimitri answers faintly. “She said I wouldn’t miss her.”

When they near the birds scatter in one movement, though some brave ones flutter back. Byleth is indeed revealed to have been in the middle—and cause—of that, a bag of birdseed mostly empty in her hands. She nods her head in greeting as Sylvain starts laughing.

“Hello,” Ingrid says, whacking Sylvain once, but he doesn’t stop and doubles over instead, “I think I missed out on meeting you properly at Dorothea’s. I’m Ingrid.”

She holds out her hand, and Byleth says her name in return as she shakes it.

“I want in on the spar,” Felix says, and Sylvain wheezes, his laughter abruptly cut off by Felix’s self-imposed third-wheeling status of this potential date.

“Okay,” Byleth says without hesitation, and Ingrid and Sylvain sigh. Not a date.

Dimitri isn’t offended, mostly intrigued. Byleth stands, brushing feathers and seeds off of her lap, and sets off in the direction of the gyms and training halls. The others follow, Ingrid and Sylvain too interested to stay behind.

Dimitri had brought a change of clothes, but it becomes evident that Byleth intends to fight in her jeans and nice blouse and heeled boots, so he doesn’t end up changing. There’s no conversation, though Sylvain fills the silence with chatter anyway, as if this is a routine they know well.

Byleth picks up a practice sword and Felix’s eyes gleam; Dimitri picks up a practice lance, handling it with a light touch.

“Best two out of three,” Byleth says, and Dimitri nods.

She lets him take first hit, the two of them warming up as they trade easy blows. She’s quick, but so is Dimitri despite his size. He does well enough at keeping her at a distance, but he misreads her intention and she lunges in close, tapping her blade against his ribs.

“Point!” Sylvain calls excitedly.

“No need to go easy,” she says, “For lances, the moment the distance closes, you have to be quick and readjust, or it’s over.”

“Yes, Professor,” Dimitri says, the title slipping out. “Ah—”

Byleth gives him an amused look but doesn’t comment, getting back into position.

They go again. Dimitri throws away some of his reservations but still not entirely, and she lands the second round too.

“Harder,” she says, and Sylvain whistles as Dimitri flushes.

“I’m concerned about my strength,” he admits, examining the practice lance. Breakage of the practice equipment itself is no matter, but it’s the ensuing issues that can arise.

“Mercenary training, remember,” Byleth says, and though they don’t see it, Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid’s eyebrows rise.

Dimitri frowns, but takes a deep breath, and trusts her.

He whirls. Byleth’s reflexes are excellent and she dodges fairly easily, tracking his moments with an even sharper gaze than before. He doesn’t like fighting, but he’s been trained since he was a child; it wasn’t necessary in this day and age to know how to—it was more common to just hire protection detail against demonic or wild beasts, or other enemies—but those descended from the old noble bloodlines especially still held onto tradition, whether as a hobby or actual self-protection. Even so, he can tell the difference between them; she’s seen real battle, and though he has too, not in the same capacity. The way she strategizes and reads his movements in a split second is incredible.

The cracks from their clashing practice blades are louder, and Dimitri registers that his will shatter soon. It’s hard to control his strength when the fight is so exhilarating. He goes for it anyway, jumping back from her slash and spinning his lance in his hands rapidly; Byleth’s eyes narrow, and he lunges.

He just barely sees her move, her timing is impeccable—she jumps, stomping the tip of the lance into the ground before stepping forward and snapping his lance at its weakest point. As her foot hits the ground, she crouches low and sweeps his legs out from under him.

When he opens his eyes, she has her sword under his chin.

“A good move,” she says, “But it’s going to take more than that to catch me.”

She’s not even saying it flirtatiously. She does, however, smile at little at him before offering a hand up, and Dimitri thinks he might be in love.

“Oh, he’s done for,” Sylvain says under his breath.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” Felix scoffs, his tone almost bored, but his eyes are bright at the display of Byleth’s skill.

Ingrid doesn’t say anything, and when the two boys turn to her, having expected her to respond, they see her typing furiously on her phone.

“Traitor,” Felix says, clicking his tongue.

“Just doing my duty,” Ingrid replies solemnly.

(Felix also loses all three bouts against Byleth, though he comes close the third time. Afterwards, they all end up training together, and even Sylvain puts his mind to it after Ingrid drags him onto the field.

“We’re getting milkshakes,” Ingrid declares, after they wrap up.

She’s sitting on the ground while Sylvain is lying flat on his back. Felix and Dimitri are less expressive, but they too look worn. Byleth is unreadable, but she does, at least, look a little winded. She offers a hand to Ingrid, while Felix rolls his eyes and pulls Sylvain up after he complains.

“Dimitri’s buying yours, Byleth,” Ingrid says, and the two in question look surprised.

“Oh,” Byleth says, “I—”

“Allow me,” Dimitri smiles.

Byleth blinks at him.

“Okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

Felix and Sylvain look at Ingrid, who looks smug.

“I’ll buy yours, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, with a discreet salute.

“I’m buying my own,” Felix tells them.

They all fall into step. Byleth politely listens to them squabble all the way to the shop.)

Byleth comes and goes when she wants to, like a cat or a ghost.

On a few occasions she shows up during their group lunches, stealing fries or other sides off of someone’s plate (mostly Dimitri’s), staying only to chat for a few minutes before she is off again. Sometimes she is in the company of her friends—the ones Dimitri met at Dorothea’s party (who he learns are also her suitemates) or Linhardt von Hevring, who seems to be either half-asleep or hyperfocused on his thesis project. Dimitri actually does see her around campus sometimes now, but he does see her friends more than he does her.

“Dunno what to say about that,” Yuri tells him, when he and Dimitri cross paths and are walking the same way to their next classes, “Half the time she’s not in her room and none of us know where she is. She’s always been like that. That’s just Byleth.”

“You’ve known her long?” Dimitri queries.

“Maybe around—five, six years? Constance, Hapi, Balthus, and I banded together after some…unfortunate circumstances. Byleth helped us out of a tight spot during our last year of high school. Stuck with her ever since.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, and Yuri glances at him.

“You’re not bad, Princeling,” Yuri says after a moment. Most people want to pry into the “unfortunate circumstances” and “tight spot” that he spoke of, and Yuri feels more inclined towards Dimitri for not doing so.

Dimitri winces instead.

“It’s just…”

He trails off. Yuri can guess why.

“Ohh. Yeah, okay. I get it.”

Dimitri blinks at him in surprise.

“You do?”

Yuri doesn’t answer that. There’s little he doesn’t know about the people on campus; the Blaiddyd Heir didn’t question Yuri, so Yuri will not question him in turn.

“Byleth’s Byleth,” he says instead, “Count yourself lucky that she makes a point to find you.”

With that, Yuri nods his head and turns into his classroom. Dimitri stands there, mulling over Yuri’s words, before he realizes that he’s running late and dashes to his own class.

There’s a small park nearby that Dimitri goes to as well during the nights he can’t sleep. All it has is a couple of benches and a swingset and a basketball court; a surprising number of people use both during the day, but unsurprisingly, no one’s there at night.

Except Byleth. Dimitri is no longer startled when he comes across her, even though her presence is always more unexpected than not. She’s swinging on the swings, kicking up woodchips as she drags her feet.

“Hi,” Dimitri says, walking closer. “Need a push?”

She nods, and he helps her swing higher. Pretty quickly the height she reaches seems dangerous, but she just calls “higher” and so he keeps pushing, until it seems like she is going to go over the whole set.

“Um,” Dimitri says, pushing her once more, and she glances at him as she surges up.

As she glides forward and reaches the highest point—she jumps.

Dimitri yells, startled, but she soars through the air, serene and graceful with her arms outstretched, hair spreading out behind her. She nails the landing a ways away, and when she turns back to him, she has a faint smile curving her lips, looking—exhilarated.

“You scared me,” Dimitri says, holding a hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, as she walks back to him. “Again?”

He frowns at her. She tilts her head. Something about the way she went through the air—he can’t place that brand of fear. He gives himself a shake, forces a weak smile onto his face.

“Okay,” he says, and she blinks at him a few times before seating herself back on the swing.

She jumps three more times before she’s satisfied, then offers to push him if he wants a turn, or four. He politely declines, but sits on the other swing, and they move back and forth lazily.

“Drink for your thoughts?” she asks after a while, and rummages through her bag that he didn’t see earlier, pulling out a glass water bottle.

Dimitri debates, taking the bottle warily.

“Did Yuri make this?” he asks, shaking it a little, and Byleth smiles at him.

“Constance did,” she says. “It’s pleasant.”

It smells fruity when he opens the top, so he takes her word for it. It goes down easily and doesn’t burn at all, so he assumes (hopes) it’s of the weaker alcohol content variety as well.

“Do you…know what you’re going to do after you graduate?” he asks hesitantly, passing the drink back to her.

Once the question is out, he realizes the truth of it—Byleth will be graduating at the end of this year. The fact saddens him more strongly than he would have thought.

She’s silent for a while, sipping twice from her bottle.

“Yes and no,” she says finally. Opens her mouth as if to speak again, closes it. Turns to him. “You’re thinking about your position as heir.”

“I want it,” he says automatically, then pauses to consider if that’s true. It doesn’t feel like a lie, but…“I…I have never known anything else.”

Byleth looks at him, leans forward a little so that her hair falls forward too.

“That’s okay too,” she says, “To want—or to be okay with—what others want of you, until you don’t.”

He looks back at her.

“How will I know if I don’t?” he asks.

“You’ll know. Or…your friends will be able to tell.” She pauses, swings a little. “It’s hard to say.”

“You seem to have all the answers,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I really gave you any,” she says.

“That helped, nonetheless,” he says, with a smile. “Thank you.”

She smiles back.

They share the drink between them until Byleth speaks again.

“I avoided your question earlier,” she says.

“Technically you answered it,” he responds, drinking again.

She snorts, and laughs a little. Dimitri feels inordinately proud of himself.

“I’m answering it again, then,” she says, though she pauses still. “I might want to be a teacher. I might want to do what my father does.” She cocks her head. “I’ve been given a lot of choices. Theoretically, I could do anything I want.” She looks at him. “I don’t know what I want.”

Dimitri pauses, holds her gaze.

“It’s okay to not want, until you do?” he tries, and she laughs again.

“Does it work like that?”

“It could,” Dimitri says. “Probably?” He pauses. “You could pick one until you don’t want it anymore.”

Byleth swings.

“It could work like that,” she says with a slight nod. She glances at him. “Thanks.”

He gives her a helpless sort of shrug, not feeling like he really gave her an answer, either. He guesses he understands how she felt just a few moments ago, then.

“Bottoms up,” she says, and drains half of the remaining liquid in the bottle, handing the rest to Dimitri to finish up.

He does so dutifully, and she puts the empty bottle back in her bag. After, she kicks off the ground, swinging higher and higher. Dimitri watches her, then gets up, walking a bit of a distance away. She watches him in turn, then flashes him a sort of sharp smile before she pumps her legs once more for momentum, then sends herself flying.

He gauges the distance, adjusting his position, then catches her as she comes hurtling down.

“Oof,” he says, as their bodies collide and he wraps his arms around her.

“Nice,” she says into his neck, then leans back to look at him.

Oh. She’s so close. His eyes widen as he stares, lips slightly parted; her expression is unreadable, but she isn’t looking away, and he can feel her breath on his skin as she tilts a little closer, his heart beating so fast he swears she must hear it—

He lets her down. His brain immediately starts screaming. Idiot idiot idiot, why did you do that, WHY DID YOU DO THAT??? WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT???

Byleth, for her part, looks unruffled and unperturbed.

“Finals are coming up,” Dimitri says, very smoothly.

She nods, walking back to the swingset to take her bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

“If we’re awake, we might as well study,” she says, very seriously.

He follows her out of the park, walks her back to the dorm partway.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night,” he echoes, and he watches her walk away until he can’t see her anymore.

When she’s out of sight, he squats down and puts his head in his hands.

(He puts himself on trial tomorrow, when his friends are awake. Sylvain and Felix sit across from him, and their gazes are piercing when he recounts the previous night. Ingrid does not sit at the table because she is more inclined to be sympathetic, and moves in the background making a smoothie for herself.

Sylvain wails when Dimitri tells That Part of the story. Felix is silent, just sits there with folded arms and looks so many levels of disappointed, though it’s probably not necessarily just about this one thing.

It’s like that maybe for forty-five minutes, this whole pathetic display. Ingrid leans against the counter, drinks her smoothie, and recounts a play-by-play on her phone into one of her group chats.)

Dimitri does not see Byleth again until they are well into finals week, and he tries not to despair.

“It is finals week,” Mercedes says soothingly.

“And she’s a senior,” Annette adds. “She’s gotta be super busy!”

“Plus, you said you never know when you see her!” Ashe says helpfully, “It’s been longer before, right?”

“But,” Sylvain almost howls, pulling at his hair, “After that? AFTER THAT?”

“Sylvain!” Annette and Ashe scold, but Dimitri feels the same. He doesn’t even have the number so he can apologize, because she always appears and disappears so suddenly that it keeps slipping his mind to ask.

Felix’s frown has grown more severe. Ingrid and Dedue look at each other and back at Dimitri, and say nothing. Mercedes and Annette look at Ingrid almost pleadingly, who gives them a sheepish shrug.

“It’ll be okay, Dimitri!” Annette tries again, and he lets out a sad sort of keen.

“For now, just focus on finals,” Mercedes suggests, “And then maybe it’ll all work out afterwards?”

“It will at least be a distraction,” Dedue finally chimes in.

Dimitri says nothing. Sylvain says it all for him.

Dimitri sees Byleth’s friends around a few times, and though he knows them and they know him, he hasn’t spoken to them very much, so he feels awkward asking after Byleth. Yuri, on the other hand, he knows better, and the boy looks amused when Dimitri (hopefully) casually brings her up.

Yuri has nothing new to share though, except he does insinuate that Byleth is hard at work at finalizing her thesis paper. Dimitri calms a little at that—enough to focus better on his own work later. Yuri gives him a look and pats his shoulder lightly before walking off.

As always, when Dimitri does find Byleth, it’s unexpected.

He’s half dead after finishing his last final, one that took place in one of the more isolated buildings on campus. Pleased that he’s finally done with that, at least, he takes the scenic route back to his dorm—there’s a glass hallway that cuts through a forested area with a river, and it’s especially beautiful this time of year.

As he looks out, movement catches his eye down below, and he’s startled to see Byleth come out from under the old stone bridge and look up at him.

His heart leaps to his throat. She waves, and he waves back hesitantly, and then she motions for him to come down.

Dimitri looks left and right, trying to figure out the best way to reach her, and he goes.

He’s slightly out of breath when he reaches her, and she has a pile of stones in her hand when he does. He blinks at them, meeting her eyes, confused and mildly concerned as to what she might use them for. Is she angry? But she’d waved him down…but was it because she was angry and about to give him a piece of her mind?

“Do you know how to skip stones?” she asks, and it takes him a minute to process.

“I…suppose I’ve never tried,” he admits.

She nods, then proceeds to do so, showing him the method. He watches as she considers the angle, then snaps her wrist as she throws the stone, which skips beautifully across the surface of the river before hitting the other side. Byleth deposits half of the stones into Dimitri’s hand, and they spend the next few minutes skipping stones—or in Dimitri’s case, trying and failing.

He ends up becoming focused on trying to succeed, Byleth keeping him stocked with a steady supply of choice stones. When he finally manages to skip one (though it only skips once before it plops into the water), he shouts in triumph, turning to her excitedly.

“Did you see that?!” he says, and freezes when he catches sight of her face.

She’s smiling, the expression both amused and proud and gentle and absolutely, absolutely mesmerizing.

“It’s nice to focus on things that aren’t exams,” she says, turning back to the river. “You’re all done?”

“Y-yes,” Dimitri stutters. “You too?”

She nods, checking her phone.

“Handed in my last paper yesterday,” she says absently, “Finished up packing up my things today.”

His throat goes dry. It feels like the world is slanting and narrowing to this point, where Byleth leaves and steps out of his life forever (forever?) and this is where it ends.

“Oh,” he says, and it comes out as almost a whisper. He clears his throat nervously. “Oh. I—do you need help moving anything?”

“No, it’s okay,” Byleth says, “I don’t…have too many things anyway. I just wanted to—”

“It would be no trouble!” Dimitri blurts, somewhat frantic. He’s cutting her off, he knows, and it’s stupid to think that if he prolongs the conversation she’ll stay a little longer, but—it’s not exactly wrong, either, is it? “I mean, I’m sure some things would be heavy, and I could—”

She looks a little surprised at his interruption, but blinks it away.

“No, I—”

“It would be faster, probably, but I mean, not that I want you to leave faster—”

“Dimitri—”

“—the opposite, really, but I mean, you’re graduating! That’s exciting, I’m sure you can’t wait to be out of here—”

“Dimitri—”

“You probably have some great summer plans, and I hope you will—”

“Go out with me.”

“Yes, exactly, go out with me, I—what?”

He snaps to attention, thinking surely he must have heard wrong. Despite the fact he was unraveling at the seams, Byleth looks amused, if also a little worried.

“I’m—sorry, could you repeat that?” he breathes, and Byleth shifts her position a little, the movement just slightly unusual.

“Go out with me?” she says again, though it’s pitched more as a question this time.

Oh, Goddess, he hadn’t heard wrong. And…that shifting, the pitch of her tone, was she—nervous?

Dimitri gapes at her and she meets his gaze calmly, though after a prolonged silence she looks to the side, tilting her head down a little as if embarrassed.

“You…can say no, you know,” she says softly, and he blanches.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean—I’d like to go out with you very much,” he says, defaulting to a more formal tone and posture out of desperation.

She looks back up at him and smiles again.

“I’m…glad I didn’t misunderstand your heartbeat last time,” she says, and he both winces and flushes at the reminder of that night.

“I—panicked,” he says, looking away. “But I…regretted it very much, after.”

“I know,” Byleth says.

“You know?” he asks, mouth falling open a little.

She only nods, amused again, but offers no explanation.

“Come here,” she says, motioning for him to lean down.

He does, and she kisses his cheek.

“Hand,” she says, and he obeys mechanically, shocked by that simple action.

Byleth pulls out a marker and scrawls on his wrist. He stares at it incredulously when she pulls away.

“My number,” she says pointedly when he doesn’t say anything. “I do actually have to go, but call me. Or text me. Whatever. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Of…course not,” he says, somewhat in awe. This is happening, it’s really happening.

Byleth looks like she wants to laugh again, but she gives him a little wave and makes her way back up to the building. It takes him too long to recover and realize that he should have walked her back. When he does regain his senses, however, he pulls out his phone, typing out a text as fast as he can.

Can we meet over the summer?

It’s only a few minutes before he receives a reply.

Yes.

Are you free next week?

Yes.

Canitakeyououttuesdayarounclunchtime

There’s a few seconds of pause, and Dimitri suspects she is laughing.

Yes. It’s a date.

He grins stupidly at his phone, rereading the conversation over and over again until he’s satisfied. Then he runs back to his dorm, throwing open the door with wild abandon.

“Guess what!” he shouts into the room, and he’s in luck, because all three of his suitemates are there, each in the midst of something different. Sylvain pokes his head out of his room, Felix looks up from the stove, and Ingrid looks over from the laundry she’s folding.

“Oh, shit, really?” Sylvain says, taking in Dimitri’s expression and also honing in on the number on Dimitri’s wrist. “You finally got her number?”

“We’re dating!” he announces, then pauses. “I mean, well, if I understood correctly, unless she was just—?”

“You’re dating,” Ingrid tells him before anxiety can take him over, grinning widely. “Congrats.”

Felix just waves the spatula in his hand, but he mutters thank the Goddess—about fucking time under his breath.

Sylvain, who is closest, is the first to be subjected to one of Dimitri’s bone-crushing hugs, and even spun around a few times. Felix hisses from where he stands, but is unable to escape being next in line. Ingrid laughs and pats Dimitri’s back when it’s her turn.

“Had a good semester?” she asks fondly.

“It was an excellent semester,” Dimitri says brightly.

“Disgusting,” Felix grumbles, and Ingrid and Sylvain laugh.

Dimitri knocks on the door nervously, trying not to fidget too much as he waits. He doesn’t have to wait long, however—but when the door opens, his eyes go wide.

A man roughly his own height, muscular and rugged with a scar across his cheekbone, a grave sort of face, and an air of someone who demands respect without having to ask for it, stands in the doorway with a large mug in hand.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice rough and deep.

Dimitri’s attention goes to the mug for a moment, which he registers reads “World’s Best Dad” in big letters, confirming his assumptions.

“I’m—here to pick up Byleth?” Dimitri manages, and to his relief, Byleth’s father simply nods and turns back into the house.

“By! Your Blaiddyd boy is here!” then, turning back to Dimitri, “Come in.”

He wonders briefly how he knows who Dimitri is on sight; his name might be well known enough, but he tries to stay out of anything where his image might be broadcasted. He steps inside cautiously, then glances at the man again. There’s something strangely familiar about him that he can’t quite place, and it’s not because of his relation to Byleth, because they look nothing alike.

“The kid’ll be a minute,” her father says, “Anyway, I’m Jeralt. Obviously, I’m By’s dad.”

“I’m Dimitri Blaiddyd,” Dimitri introduces, with a weak smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jeralt just grunts and pats Dimitri’s shoulder in acknowledgement before offering him coffee, which Dimitri accepts out of nervousness. The drink is potent and bracing, without sugar or milk, and Jeralt refills his own mug.

Dimitri peeks at him from over the rim, still trying to figure out why Jeralt is familiar as the man stretches, the multitude of pops and cracks coming from his body making Dimitri wince.

“Don’t get old,” Jeralt tells him, “How reckless you were in your youth doesn’t fuck around when it cashes in.”

“You’re reckless now,” Byleth says as she comes down the stairs. “Cut back on the drinking.”

She’s in a loose blouse and mid-length skirt this time, a pink headband decorating her hair. Every time Dimitri seems her she seems to be sporting a different style. It’s fun.

Jeralt grunts.

“Yeah, well, can’t avoid recklessness in my line of work, and Rhea sure as hell don’t know how to take it easy. Trust me, the drinks are necessary.”

It clicks, then, and Dimitri almost cracks the cup in his hands. He lets out a strangled noise, and both Byleth and Jeralt look at him.

“You’re Jeralt Eisner,” he wheezes, looking to Byleth and back to Jeralt again. “You guard Madam Rhea—you’re the Blade Breaker, Seiros Security’s finest!”

Jeralt drinks his coffee.

“Well, it’s embarrassing to be called that, and also—kid, he didn’t know?”

Byleth shrugs. “Never came up.”

Jeralt sighs.

“Well, there it is, then. Yeah, Rhea and I go…way back, and now I’m in charge of her security company. By’s been trained since she was a kid, so…if you have any issues, she’s got your back.”

Dimitri looks at Byleth, who flashes him a peace sign with a deadpan expression.

“Thank you,” he says, for lack of anything else to say. She nods.

Jeralt looks amused, then waves them off.

“Anyway, have fun or whatever, and bring him back by curfew if he has one, kid.”

Byleth nods, and Dimitri looks back and forth, unable to fully process the information he’s just learned. But Byleth tugs him along, they’re out of the house and in his car before he regains his senses and looks at her.

“Every time I see you, you surprise me,” he says, and Byleth smiles faintly.

“Yuri says a lady cannot reveal her secrets,” she says, “But I think I’d like to start sharing them with you.”

Dimitri blinks at her, surprised, but then smiles.

“I’d be honored if you did,” he says. “There are…things I’d like to tell you as well, in time.”

She nods, looking pleased.

“We’ve got plenty,” she says. “So, where to?”

“There’s a new Duscurian spot that opened up a couple miles away. I was thinking we try it?”

“Lead the way,” Byleth smiles.

Dimitri starts driving. He lets Byleth choose the music and roll down the window; the wind ruffles their hair vigorously and she tries to keep it out of his face for him, which makes him laugh before she just rolls the windows up again.

He knows this is just the beginning, but there’s happiness bubbling up in his chest and a sense of ease and contentment over them both—so what he also knows is that it’s going to be a wonderful summer.

#dimileth #Fire Emblem Three Houses #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #byleth eisner #dimitri x byleth #dimitri x f!byleth #fanfiction #listen there's like no real context and no worldbuilding and the characterization is questionable #BUT i had fun #migraine hit hard today so editing was very cursory rip

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tefanfics · 4 years

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Changes

Chapter 18

My nerves were tearing me apart. I sat in the corner of the sofa in Matthew Vaughn’s trailer and Taron sat on the other side. Matthew was standing in front of us, pacing back and forth. His hands rested on his hips and look of frustration was strong on his face.

“So neither of you have any clue what this photo is about?” Matthew asked as he gestured to hi s laptop sitting on the counter near us.

I waited to see if Taron would say anything. He stayed quiet so I spoke up. “I mean, obviously it’s the two of us,” I started. “We ran into each other at the park. He asked if I wanted to join so I did.”

Matthew stared me down. I hoped to god he didn’t know I was lying. “And the hand holding?”

“I about lost my balance,” Taron chimed in. “Just bumped into her.”

Matthew’s gaze went between Taron and I. “So there’s nothing to worry about here?” He asked,

“Nope. Just friends.” I paused with a shrug. “Truthfully more like acquaintances. This is like what, the third time we’ve actually talked?” I asked Taron as I looked to him before turning my attention back to Matthew. “Any other questions? Or can I go get the cast ready for this scene?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, Rose. Thanks for your time,” Matthew said as he waved me off. He offered a smile as I stood up and left the trailer.

My heart was racing as I stood outside. I tried to catch my breath before I started walking. I glanced over my shoulder at the trailer, trying to see if Taron would appear. When I didn’t see him, I kept walking. I hurried to the location of the current scene, grabbing my copy of the script and going over things with the cast.

All day I buried myself in the script and anything I was thrown. I tried to keep from focusing on Taron when I could. I could feel his gaze on me, pressing into me the longer I kept myself away from him. Maybe Matthew had been right to be suspicious. Maybe our little escapades to steal kisses weren’t so secret after all. I shook myself out of my thoughts and carried on with the rest of the day.

When they finally wrapped filming for the day, I gathered my things and bid everyone before I began my walk home. The set wasn’t horribly far from my apartment and sometimes the walk home was nice to free my mind.

I put headphones in and grabbed my phone, starting the playlist I had been adding to since Taron and I had started talking. I checked for messages and saw one from the man himself.

See you in a little bit.

I didn’t bother sending a message. I figured by time I had walked home, Taron’s ride would have already dropped him off at my apartment. So instead I let myself get lost in the music as my legs carried me home.

Sure enough when I arrived at the apartment complex, a black car with tinted windows waited by the curb. I got up the steps to the building and opened the door as the car door opened. I heard footsteps on the concrete steps. I didn’t look at him as I made my way to the steps and began to climb them.

Once in the safety of my apartment, I tossed my stuff down and threw off my jacket before falling into the sofa. Taron shut the door and locked it, shrugging off his own jacket.

“Just friends?” He repeated to me. “Acquaintances?”

My gaze was on my hands on my lap. I was anxious. I was worried about my job and if I was jeopardizing things now.

Taron walked in front of me and scooted the coffee table over just a little before kneeling in front of me. He tucked himself between my open legs and grabbed my hands. “I mean, you could’ve fooled me. With all the kisses and sharing my bed…” He teased as he looked at me. Taron took my hands in his and lifted them, kissing them softly.

I forced myself to look at him. “I panicked. I didn’t want you to get in trouble and I was afraid I’d lose the job which meant losing the apartment and going back home,” I blurted. Tears welled in my eyes as I met his. My heart was still pounding in my chest.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It’s okay,” Taron said quickly. He kissed my hands again as his forearms rested on my legs. “I was just teasing. I promise.” Concern washed over his face as he reached up and wiped the only tear that managed to spill over. “It doesn’t matter though, love. My private life is my own. As is yours.”

I nodded and turned my gaze back to my hands in his. “Okay,” I murmured. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Taron’s hand rested on my cheek and I leaned into it, shutting my eyes for a moment. “Nothing to sorry for, okay? All you were doing was looking out for us.”

“Us?” I repeated. I tried to fight the little smile that wanted to show but it was a losing battle.

Taron smirked as he watched my expression change. “Yeah. Us.” He grinned at me and now I really couldn’t help but to smile back at him. He stood up and took my hands again, pulling me up beside him. “Do you still feel like going out tonight?”

I bit my lower lip as I contemplated. Finally I gave him a nod. “Yeah, I do. I think some fun is in order.”

“Excellent. I can’t wait for you to meet my best mate.”

“I’ll change first then we can go,” I said before kissing Taron on the cheek.

“You sure?” He asked. “I like the flannel on you.”

I laughed and nodded. “I want to make a good first impression. Me dressing like this is not the best way.”

Taron shrugged, smiling at me. “Well for future reference, the flannel is very sexy.”

I rolled my eyes as I began to walk away, heading to my room. I switched into different jeans. They had two shades of denim- the inside a light blue and a seem down the middle that changed to a dark blue. I pulled a black shirt from my closet. In the light, the black fabric shimmered. The shoulders had cutouts and on the front, the low cut had a mesh lining and three slits across the fabric. I put the shirt on and went to the bathroom, finding my favorite matte red lipstick. I fixed my eyeliner and ran the hairbrush for through my hair before grabbing my burgundy leather jacket and going back to the living room and finding my boots again. I put them on and faced Taron.

“Better?” I asked.

Taron looked up from his phone, a smile slowly growing. His gaze flickered as he looked me over. “Okay that might be better than the flannel.” He quickly stood up and cleared the space between us, kissing me gently. “Almost makes me not want to go. I don’t want to share you.” I had no doubt my cheeks were red at his comment, matching my hair and lips. He leaned down and kissed me again, his hands finding my lower back. I could feel his reluctance as he pulled himself away. “We need to go before I change my mind,” he murmured to me, his voice low.

I nodded and slid my jacket on, grabbing my purse on the way out the door. The same car waited for us out front. The ride didn’t take long before pulling up to our destination. It was a karaoke bar. I had some how been convinced that I was going to sing tonight but I was doubtful. I knew I’d need a lot of liquid courage before that could happen.

Even though we bypassed the line to get in, I could hear the whispers and squeals of people who recognized Taron. Inside was easier to deal with. It was a little crowded but tolerable. Taron guided us to the bar and ordered us drinks before we found his friend at table.

“Jack!” Taron greeted with a grin. “This is Rose.”

“The one you talk about all the time?” Jack retorted before looking at me and holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too!” I answered as I shook his hand. “So all the time, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Doesn’t shut up honestly,” Jack said, laughter in his voice.

“Good to know,” I said with a sweet smile as I looked at Taron. He rolled his eyes as we took a seat at the table. I sipped on my drink and paid attention to the people who were on stage. Some people were honestly pretty good and the song choices, for the most part, were upbeat.

“So, Rose, you’re working on the movie too?” Jack asked.

I nodded. “Yeah! I’m a behind the camera person though. I make sure the continuity is there. That actions match the previous movies or that we have our facts right. That sort of thing.”

“Very cool!”

I grinned and nodded. “I’m loving it so far.”

Taron reached over and grabbed my hand that rested on the table, giving it a little squeeze. “Cast and crew love her. She’s been great,” he added. It almost sounded like he was bragging about me. “We got lucky, I think.” I blushed and took my drink in my hand again as he carried on. “She’s a pretty talented singer too.”

My eyes widened as I shook my head. “I don’t know about all that,” I said quickly. “And one drink is not going to be enough to get me up there to make a fool of myself.”

“And that would be why he ordered shots,” Jack said as a waitress walked to the table with a tray. She sat down nine shots in total. I groaned as Taron slid three of them to me. Jack and Taron both lifted one, so I followed suit. We clinked the little glasses before I downed the mouthful of vodka. It burned as it fell down my throat, leaving me to scrunch my nose and shake my head a little.

Taron laughed at my expression before getting up. He went up to wait his turn to sing. Once on stage, I recognized George Michael’s Faith. I sang along quietly at the table while Taron was up there. Once he came back to his spot, he looked at me and pointed at the stage.

“One shot still isn’t enough.”

Taron smirked and grabbed a second. I sighed and took a second. We repeated the same steps: clink and throw back the drink. The second shot was worse than the first. I could feel the heat already growing on my face. “What’s your song of choice?” Taron asked. “Because don’t have anyone signed up after this song.”

I sighed and looked at the stage, racking my brain for what song I could manage. I jumped off the stool and finished off my original drink. I would probably request it later. Mixing light and dark alcohols were always a mistake. I walked over the queue for the stage and gave the guy running it the song. He looked over the list and nodded once he saw it on the list. I waited for my turn, bouncing on my legs.

The girl in front of me finished off her song and hurried off the stage before the guy gave the go ahead to go up. I climbed up the stairs and walked to the mic. The spotlight was bright in my eyes but luckily it kept me from seeing the majority of the crowd. I could see the prompter with the lyrics beginning to scroll across.

Stage fright was a very real thing as I stood there. I felt stiff behind the mic, singing the lyrics to Demi Lovato’s Ruin The Friendship. Then the alcohol began to hit. I was loosening up and felt myself diving into the lyrics. Truth be told, I didn’t care how I sounded. I just was glad I had actually gotten up on stage.

After the song ended, I heard clapping. I moved down the stairs again and could see far more people than I would have liked. But the majority of them were clapping. I found my way back to the table and climbed up on the stool. Before I gave myself the chance to listen to anything Taron or Jack were saying, I grabbed my remaining shot and threw it back.

When I put the glass down, I looked between the two of them. Taron was grinning and holding back laughter. Jack was giving me a nod of approval. Evidently I had done something right.

Jack disappeared a little while later, either to get more drinks or head to the restroom, leaving Taron and I alone. He stood up and moved beside me, standing next to my bar stool. He arm slid around my waist as he kissed my cheek.

“Were you trying to tell me something with that song?” He whispered into my ear.

I was flushed from the alcohol in my system but his breath on my ear sent shivers down my spine. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” I teased, looking at him and kissing him swiftly.

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fanfics4all · 5 years

Text

The Full Moon Party

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Oliver Queen x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1467

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Before Oliver Queen went missing for five years, the Queen family use to throw a great Halloween party every year. Now that Oliver was back they were throwing one again. I was excited because a Queen party was always a good party. I got dressed in my werewolf costume,tonight was supposed to be a full moon, so I thought it would be a perfect fit.

Oliver wanted me to come over early, I use to help them set up for the party, not that they needed the help since they had people do it for them, so really Oliver just used it as an excuse to hang out with me. I had always had a crush on him since the day I met him in high school. When he disappeared I was heartbroken, we didn’t know if he was dead or alive. His mother had empty graves made for them on their property, but I never gave up hope and neither did Thea. We helped each other through it, she was the only one that knew about my crush on her brother. She always thought we’d be cute together, but Oliver was always dating other girls. When he got with our friend Laurel I knew I didn’t stand a chance. She was so much better than me in every way, but after Oliver vanished she moved on after a few years. She was now dating his best friend Tommy, who was also my friend. They made a nice couple, but I felt bad for Oliver when he came back. I honestly wasn’t sure if she was going to leave Tommy and go back to Oliver or not.

I made it to Oliver’s house and rang the doorbell. The man himself answered it with a smile and I returned it.

“Ollie!” I said happily and hugged him.

“Hey Y/N/N, I see you came ready for the party.” He said looking me up and down.

“Yeah, you like?” I asked as he let me in. I did a little twirl and gave him a smile.

“I do, it’s very cute.” He said and I pushed down the blush that wanted to invade my cheeks.

“Well thank you.” I said.

“Y/N!” Thea’s voice rang through the room.

“Thea!” I smiled turning around to face her. We hugged and she looked me up and down like Oliver did.

“A werewolf, I like it.” She said and I smiled.

“Thanks, what are you being?” I asked.

“A go go dancer.” She said and I smiled.

“Nice.” I said and she nodded.

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat I gotta go. Don’t let Ollie annoy you too much.” She said with a wink.

“I don’t annoy her!” Oliver said offended.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Thea said and walked out. Oliver rolled his eyes and turned back to me.

“So, my room?” He asked and I nodded. I followed him to his room and immediately hopped on his bed. It was so comfy, then again he was part of the richest family in Starling City.

“We never really caught up since I got back, how are you?” He asked sitting next to me.

“I’m good, finished school early, got a job at the hospital, nothing much besides that.” I answered.

“Come on, no dating life?” He asked wiggling his brow.

“No! Get your mind out of the gutter!” I said knowing what he was thinking. I shoved him and we both laughed.

“Alright, alright, but seriously, you haven’t dated anyone?” He asked.

“I tried with one or two guys, but it didn’t work out.” I said with a shrug.

“Did they hurt you?” He asked.

“No, actually I broke up with them.” I said and he raised a brow at me.

“Really?” He asked and I nodded.

“Like I said it just didn’t work out.” I said hugging one of his pillows.

“So, what are you dressing up as tonight?” I asked changing the subject.

“Just gonna throw on one of my suits.” He said with a shrug.

“That’s it? Really?” I asked shocked.

“Yeah.” He shrugged.

“Unacceptable!” I said getting up and going to his closet.

“There has to be something in here that we can throw together with your suit to make it into a costume of some kind.” I said looking through his closet.

"Come on Y/N/N, I don't really need to dress up." He said following me.

"Yes Ollie, you really do." I said picking up a hat and placing it on his head.

"That'll work." I said and turned back to keep looking.

"Tell you what, if you can give me one good reason why then I'll help you." He said.

"Because it's the first Halloween party in five years and this could help you get back to a normal life." I said and he sighed.

"Okay fine that was a good answer." He said and helped me look. I found suspenders that would help complete the look I was going for.

"Okay try it on!" I said excitedly. I walked back over to the bed and waited for Oliver to come out.

"This what you pictured?" He asked walking out and I smiled.

"Yes! You look just like a mob boss, well without the guns." I said and he laughed.

"Fine, you win I'll dress up." He said and I smiled.

"So why'd you pick a werewolf for tonight?" He asked joining me on the bed.

"Honestly? Because there's a full moon tonight and I thought it would be kinda funny." I said with a blush, it sounded so stupid when I said it out loud.

"That's a very you think to do, you still keep track of the moon and stars?" He asked and I nodded.

"You should know that a hobby I'd never give up." I said lightly hitting him with a pillow.

"Don't start something you can't finish Y/N/N." He warned and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"That's it!" He said and started attacking me with a pillow. I screamed and laughed smacking him with a pillow too. The two of us were laughing and having a great time like it was old times, like he never disappeared for five years. Oliver paused when he was on top of me. He looked down at me and I could help the blush that painted my face red. His fingers gently touched my face and he smiled down at me.

"Ya know, I always thought you were beautiful…" He said in a breathy voice.

"R-really?" I could help the stutter. He nodded and his eyes flicked to my lips.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked and my heart skipped a beat. My crush just asked me if he could kiss me? Oliver Queen just asked to kiss me! I nodded my head not trusting my voice at the moment. His lips slowly made their way to mine and we both closed our eyes to savor the moment.

"Hey guys, I'm- Whoa!" Thea’s voice entered the room.

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock Speedy!" Oliver growled pulling away from me, but he didn't get off me. My face burned red and I could bring myself to look directly at Thea.

"Am I interrupting something?" She asked leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

"Yes, now get out!" Oliver said to his sister.

"You better not hurt her Ollie, I don't want to have to take you to the hospital if you break her heart." Thea said just before she left. Oliver turned back to me with a smile.

"Now, where we're we." He said and moved his lips back down to mine but I turned my head away. He pulled back confused and I bit my lip.

"Ollie, I don't want to be one of your many one night stands." I said and he looked at me shocked.

"That's not what I was trying to do…" He said and I looked up at him. He sighed and sat up, I followed.

"Look Y/N, you're the one I was thinking about while I was on the island for five years. I realized it then, it was always you." He said and cradled my head in his large palm.

"You're the one that I love Y/N." He said and I swear my heart stopped.

"I've been wanting you to say that since high school Ollie." I said with a smile. His lips met mine again and it was perfect.

"Would you be my date to the party?" He asked.

"As long as you don't mind my claws coming out when the full mood raises." I joked and he laughed.

"This is exactly why I love you." He said.

"I love you too Ollie." I said.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @xrosesareredx @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @alex--awesome--22 @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @pharaoh-of-time-and-space @marveloverdcsstuff @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee

#arrow #the green arrow #arrow imagine #oliver queen #oliver queen x reader #oliver queen x fem!reader #Thea #thea queen #Halloween #fanfic #werewolf

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monstaxsthetics · 5 years

Text

Ch. 1

Genre: Angst / Romance / Action

Warnings: Harsh Language / Violence

Characters: Wonho / Lee Hoseok x OC x Monsta X

Word Count: 4.1K

Synopsis: Nara and Hoseok split ways six years ago. She was not a top trauma nurse who couldn’t be happier with her life and Hoseok was head of her father’s security detail. When her father is kidnapped and her life is put in danger, Hoseok and Nara are reunited. What will come of the reunion and will they find her father before it’s too late?

“These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which, as they kiss, consume”

Ch.2 Ch.3

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Nara had just sat down for what felt like the first time in her 18 hour shift, taking a sip of her much needed coffee and a bite from her apple, she felt the familiar buzz of her pager before she heard a code being called over the hospital P.A. system.

“Code blue, trauma room 1. Code blue, trauma room 1.”

Groaning, she chugged what was left of her coffee.

“So much for an apple a day”, she thought, stealing one last bite.

She ran as fast as she could from the break room, through the corridor, down three flights of stairs, sliding over a gurney, and around a corner just as a nurse and intern group were beginning their hospital tour.

“And that was nurse, Hwang Nara, the resident LUNATIC.” the nurse giving the tour shouted.

“I think you mean badass!” Nara said, tossing a couple of finger guns and a wink toward the group before continuing on her way.

And she was. A badass that is. She had only been a trauma nurse at Ansan Hospital for a short time now and was already making a name for herself. Sure among them were the occasional ‘lunatic’, ‘unhinged’, ‘reckless’, etc. But more than anything she was gifted, and a great asset to the hospital - when she wasn’t being a liability or a thorn in anyone’s side - and any doctor or nurse in that hospital would tell you the same.

When she arrived at trauma room #1, nurses were scrambled around an unconscious man who was struggling to breathe. No amount of oxygen or air being manually pumped from the ambulatory bag were providing any aid to the suffering man.

Nara looked around and realized she had made it there before any of the on-call doctors. Pushing her way to the front she pulled her stethoscope from her pocket, pressing the icy cold metal to the patient’s bare chest. It only took a moment for her to realize what was wrong.

“Stop the ambu. It won’t work” she informed the others.

“He has a tension pneumothorax. His right lung has collapsed and air is filling his chest cavity. Where is the cardio team?”

All the surgeons were either in surgery or on other urgent cases. Nara knew that the patient wouldn’t last while waiting for them to arrive.

“Give me a large bore needle, please.”

No one made any movements to assist her.

“Anyone? He needs a thoracostomy!”

“It’s against protocol, Nara” another nurse said. “We should wait for a surgeon to get here.”

“We don’t have time for that. If he dies while we’re waiting, do you want to explain to his family and friends that we could have saved him if it wasn’t for fucking protocol?”

Still no one moved to assist her.

“Fine! I’ll do it myself.”

Nara retrieved a large bore needle, a mask, gloves, and iodine from the room’s supply cabinet.

She carefully disinfected the area just above the patient’s third rib on his right side making sure she had located the intercostal space along the midclavicular line. She then slowly inserted the needle into the disinfected area at a 90 degree angle, keeping her hand steady as to not damage any of the underlying blood vessels.

A pregnant pause overtook the room as everyone held their breath. At some point the nursing students and their tour guide had made their way to the E.R. and were now watching the scene in stunned silence.

A moment later, a rush of air could be heard coming from the patient’s chest followed by the sounds of the bedside machines alerting the staff to his stabalizing vital signs.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, smiling, and congratulating Nara for saving the man’s life - well not everyone.

“Hwang Nara!” she heard her superior call out. “Why am I not surprised it’s you? My office, now!”

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Pulling her keys from her purse, Nara trudged up the stairs to her apartment, her legs heavy and energy drained from the brutal 18 hour shift. A shift that mind you, should have ended on a high but instead ended with her once again being reprimanded by her department head effectively killing the adrenaline rush and pride she felt after saving that patient.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she started around the corner when a hand clamped down over her mouth and a large arm pulled her back toward the stairwell. Panic spread through her body and her blood ran cold. She tried to scream but it was muffled and the stranger shushed her. There was something familiar about this person. Something nostalgic in the way they smelled and they way their hands felt. She knew this person, she was sure of it. But who did she know that would try and kidnap her? She tried to scream again, when the grip on her mouth got tighter.

“Shhhhh shh Nara, it’s me, be quiet.”

She did know him. It was Hoseok. This knowledge however didn’t alleviate her stress, instead it filled her with rage. She channeled her anger into enough force to elbow him in the chest, his hand falling from her mouth in surprise, but the other still remained tight around her waist.

“Yah! Lee Hoseok, are you crazy? What in the hell do you think you—?”

In a flash, he had her spun around, looking into her eyes. “Wow”, she thought. “How was he still this beautiful?”

“Nara listen to me, you have to be quiet. You can yell at me later, I promise.”

“Later? Why would there be a later Hoseo–?” Nara was became more indignant with each word from Hoseok.

Hoseok shoved her up against the nearest wall.

“Nara! For the love of god will you please shut up?”

She was going to attempt to argue once more when she realized how anxious he appeared, his body was rigid and his eyes kept searching up and down the halls. “What was happening?”, she questioned internally.

At that moment three men in black hats and masks ran out of her apartment. Her eyes widened and she was about to scream at them and ask what in the hell they were doing when Hoseok placed a finger over her mouth and shook his head, his eyes pleading with her to stay quiet.

“I swear I heard keys hyungnim. She should be home by now. Her shift ended an hour ago”, one of the masked men could be heard saying.

They were heading in the direction of the stairwell where she and Hoseok were hiding and she was beginning to grasp the situation. These men were here for her. “But why?”

As they quickly made there way towards the stairs, Hoseok maneuvered his body in front of hers, his back facing the men and leaned in close. To anyone approaching it would seem as if they were just two lovers taking advantage of one another in the stairwell.

The men approached them curiously but the charade worked and they quickly left the apartment building, the elder scolding the younger that he must have been mistaken about her work schedule.

When the danger seemed to be gone, at least for the immediate future, Nara regained her senses. She shoved against Hoseok’s chest with all of her strength.

“Hoseok, you have five seconds to tell me what’s going on and who those men were.”

Hoseok grabbed Nara’s arm, dragging her inside of her apartment. He checked all the rooms and when they were secured he locked the door. Nara stood with her arms crossed over her chest, still waiting for an explanation. He ignored her and made his way into her bedroom, an increasingly agitated Nara following behind him.

“Are you going to answer me? What are you doing here? Who were those men?”

He continued to ignored her, opening her closet, rummaging around until he found a duffle bag. He removed the bag and set it on her bed.

“I’ll explain later, but right now we have to get out of here. Fill this bag with the things you need quickly and lets go.”

“Wooow! You really have lost your damn mind, huh? What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you? I haven’t seen you in six years and you just show up out of the blue all ‘Nara we have to go’. Hell no! You don’t get to do tha–”

“Your dad is missing, Nara.”

Nara stumbled a bit and gripped the door frame for stability taken aback by Hoseok’s words.

“What did you just say? Th-that’s not possible, I just talked to him last night.”

“I know. We checked his phone records. You were the last person he spoke to. He wasn’t at the house this morning when I got there to pick him up and he didn’t show up for any of his meetings today. Hyunwoo and the others are searching for him right now and I’m guessing those men who were just here had something to do with it too so we need to go, NOW!”

Nara couldn’t handle the onslaught of information, finding her nearby desk chair to sit down as her legs threatened to give out. Hoseok kneeled in front of her.

“Nara-yah….”

Hearing him call her name endearingly made her want to simultaneously hurl and throw her arms around his neck and sob.

“I know this is a lot, but I promise you we will find him, okay?” - He swiped a stray hair from her face, brushing it behind her ear - “But right now, we need to get you out of here before those men come back.”

She knew he was right, as much as she hated to admit it so after a few calming breaths, she silently placed all of her necessities into the duffle and grabbed a picture of her father and followed Hoseok out of the apartment building. He lead her to a sleek midnight blue two door sports car. “The car suits him”, she thought. He opened her door for her and placed her bag in the back seat. She slid down into the cool, smooth leather seats and hugged her coat closer to her body.

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As they sped through the dark streets, Nara stole glances at Hoseok. He hadn’t changed at all. Sure he was older and bigger, much bigger, but his features were the same, somehow more handsome with maturity. His jaw was clenched and the veins in his defined arms pulsed as he shifted gears and gripped the wheel tighter. His stress and anxiety were clear.

This fact didn’t surprise her. Hoseok had always been close with her dad, even beyond their working relationship and Nara suspected that Hoseok was just as affected by her father’s disappearance as she was.

When they passed the exit for her father’s house, she asked where they were going. Hoseok explained that people were watching her father’s home and that it would be too dangerous to return there. He said he was taking her to their hideout on the outskirts of the city.

“Who are they? I know Hyunwoo of course, but you keep saying them.”

“The rest of your dad’s special protection team. They started after you left. There are seven of us now.”

Nara shook her head in understanding and stared out the window for the rest of the car ride.

About 45 minutes later, they pulled up in front a seemingly abandoned building, lined by trees on one side and a river on the other, cutting them off completely from the city. The breeze had picked up and Nara shivered as she stepped out of the car, grabbing her bag. She followed Hoseok into the dilapidated concrete structure and toward and elevator, she was surprised to see it actually functioned. He pressed the button for the basement and the two of them descended.

The elevator doors opened up directly into a rather spacious and tasteful loft. Not at all what Nara expected to find in this building or when Hoseok referred to it as a ‘hideout’. They walked in and immediately were greeted by six sets of eyes ranging in expressions from curiosity, to boredom, and others she couldn’t quite place.

Hyunwoo was the first to say anything or make a move. He stood from the kitchen island and enveloped her in a tight hug. He pulled back, looking her over and asked if she was okay to which she just nodded. He was exactly the same. He had the same beautifully tan skin she envied, the same warm brown eyes that creased at the sides when he smiled, and a warmth and feel like an older brother would have. His presence alone instantly comforted Nara and she regretted not keeping in touch or visiting Hyunwoo, regardless of her disdain for his best friend. He ruffled her hair in true big brother style and smiled before rejoining the others around the island.

It looked like they were gathered around a tablet and some blue prints, seemingly looking for Nara’s father, Hwang Ji. Hoseok introduced her to the others and them to her in turn. He went around the table one by one telling her their names and positions on the team.

First up was Lee Minhyuk a cute blonde who was smiling from ear to ear at her and clinging to the chestnut brown haired man to his right who’s eye smile could rival that of Hyunwoo and who had the deepest set of dimples she’d ever seen.

“Minhyukie here is our infiltration specialist. He’s good at breaking into places and taking things that aren’t his which is how he earned the title.”

“Hey to be clear, I am not a thief. I just so happen to be extremely well versed in acquiring things that don’t technically belong to me. But you know what they say, ‘finders keepers’ and all that.”

“You know that doesn’t actually apply when you break into someone’s home and ‘find’ things right?” a boy with perfectly quaffed hair and looks to match said dejectedly.

“Meh potato, tomato” the cute blonde shrugged.

“That’s no—”

“Just let him have this please” the chestnut haired man Minhyuk was clinging to said before turning his attention back to Nara. “I’m Jooheon, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m sorry it had to happen this way. I’m in charge of the tactical unit.”

Minhyuk beamed whenever Jooheon spoke and never tore his eyes from him. Nara made a mental note that there was definitely something there. Hoseok had given up on introducing the others and thought it best they introduce themselves.

A boy with a kind almost motherly gaze looked at her with what Nara could only assume was some type of sympathy.

“I’m Kihyun, I run intelligence for the group.”

“That’s a fancy way of saying he’s in charge of the cooking.” a slightly shorter boy with jet black hair that looked almost blue said. He had a devilish grin and it made Nara uneasy when he flashed it in her direction.

A quick hand landed at the back of his neck.

“This here is our little resident psychopath, Changkyunie, who should learn to watch what he says before the cook decides to poison him, don’t you think?”

Kihyun pinched Changkyun’s cheek harshly until the latter yelped in pain.

“What are you in charge of?” Nara asked as he nursed a red cheek.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know” he said with that same unnerving smile. And for the time being, Nara wasn’t entirely sure she did want to know.

Next to him was the boy from earlier who teased Minhyuk. Nara would have sworn he got lost on his way to a runway show with his modelesque looks, if it weren’t for the knife he held in his hand twirling from finger to finger as he stared at her, disinterested.

“Aish this is exhausting…. Fine, I’m Hyungwon, I work with Minhyuk here on infiltration. But stealing isn’t my portion. I’m more of the……well distraction.”

Minhyuk hopped off his stool, finally releasing Jooheon’s arm for the first time since they arrived and rushed to Nara’s side.

“Noona, are you hungry, have you eaten?”

Noona? Nara thought to herself. They weren’t introduced more than five minutes ago and now she was noona? It was quick but not necessarily unwelcome. Minhyuk had a contagious personality and he made her feel at ease. He was comfortable and she felt her shoulders release some tension as he locked arms with her and led her to the fridge.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖✖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Kihyun ended up whipping up a delicious meal just from some leftovers in the fridge and when they were all full the others retreated back to their earlier conversations and planning on how to find her father while Hoseok showed her to what would be her room for the time being.

It was awkward to say the least. She and Hoseok had not parted on good terms, and even after six years apart, two hours in his presence had brought the emotions she had locked away bubbling to the surface.

“You should wash up and make yourself comfortable and when you’re up to it, you can come down and we will brief you on what we know so far.”

“Thanks”, was all Nara could manage to mutter, as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. Both over her father disappearing and over seeing Hoseok again.

She spent more time than was necessary in the shower, welcoming the slight sting and pink hue that the hot water brought to her skin, slowly soothing the tension in her muscles. After about 30 minutes, she decided she should leave the shower and face what was waiting for her downstairs. No matter how much she wished to just stand in the spray of the shower she knew she couldn’t remain in denial forever.

She brushed her hair and teeth, pulled on some leggings and a large tattered sweatshirt with her alma mater’s logo on it and headed down the stairs.

They all took turns explaining to her what each of them had gathered on the situation so far. They believed her dad was taken sometime between 8 - 10 p.m. the previous night. The last person he had spoken to was Nara around 7p.m.. He had sent all of them home for the day and only his minimal security unit remained at the house.

Hwang Ji had believed that his home was well enforced enough that he didn’t need them all on watch 24/7 and he was adamant about them all being able to maintain their own lives and rest comfortably in their own home. When Hoseok got to the house in the morning to pick him up and drive him into the city to the corporation, he didn’t answer his text or calls. Hoseok went inside to check on him but he wasn’t in the house and neither were any of the guards from the minimum security team. He thought that it was possible he wanted to get to the office early before his meetings and had the other guards drive him.

Hoseok drove to the office to confirm this, but was told that Hwang Ji never showed up. The guys spent the rest of the day interrogating his known rivals, and combing the streets for him. They checked the house’s CCTV and found that the surveillance and security systems were shut down around 7:30 p.m. and didn’t come back online until after 10:30 p.m.

Hoseok had a feeling that whoever took Hwang Ji may try and harm Nara too which is how he ended up at her apartment building. Nara hadn’t been home in six years, her and her father preferring to meet halfway between their respective homes to catch up. However, the team kept tabs on her and knew her schedules. Protecting her father also meant protecting his family and those dear to him. Since Hyunwoo needed to lead the tactical searches and interrogation for the group and Nara wasn’t familiar with the rest of the group, it was decided that it would be best if Hoseok was the one to go retrieve her as to lessen her alarm. A plan that hadn’t gone as well as planned when the three masked men showed up.

None of their leads or the usual suspects had turned up any promising information and they found themselves starting over from ground zero. Nara found her head spinning with all the new information and trying to keep her nerves under control. Losing her shit now wasn’t going to help find her father any faster.

Later that evening she found that it was only she, Hoseok and Hyunwoo left awake as they sat around the coffee table at 1 a.m. sharing a drink. Nara hadn’t found the strength to fall asleep yet and Hoseok and Hyunwoo stayed up with her out of worry and support.

“So how did you all come together? Where did they all come from?” Nara asked, sipping from her now warming can of beer.

“Heh, where to begin?” Hyunwoo chuckled. “Uhm Hyukie was a runaway. He comes from a pretty wealthy family but his parents have always been sadly disinterested in him or anything he did. He rebelled for a while, trying to get their attention, but eventually he just ended up leaving home.”

“I watched him shoplift from a convenience store one day and charm the panties off the girl behind the register and the security guard alike and so I followed him.” Hoseok said. “I told him what I had seen and he begged me not to turn him in. Of course that wasn’t what I was there for and I explained a bit of who I was. I brought him to meet your dad and the rest is obvious.”

“I found Kihyun” Shownu said. “He bumped into me trying to outrun the cops. He looked so helpless and I didn’t know what he was on the run for, but for some reason I decided to help him evade the police. Turns out the cops were from cyber crimes and they were after him for hacking into the Seoul National Hospital system to clear the debt for his sick mother.”

They went on like this explaining a bit of the other’s backstories and helping Nara to understand the boys she would be associating with for the foreseeable future and who her father had entrusted his life to.

Minhyuk recruited Jooheon from an underground MMA circuit. He fell for him instantly and was shocked when he found out Jooheon shared the sentiment. They’ve been together ever since.

Kihyun recruited Changkyun who brought along his childhood friend and current roommate Hyungwon. It was the only way he would agree to come. Hyungwon was a runaway too and had spent time as a male model and escort for some time before coming to the company. Changkyun was working for another crime organization as an assassin. They were lovingly dubbed the ‘psycho unit’ although they referred to Hyungwon as more sociopathic than psychopathic.

This thought unnerved Nara a bit and she gulped but they assured her that they were deadly to those who crossed them or to their targets but to everyone else they were all bark and no bite.

They spent the rest of the hour in silence, the three of them dozing off while a muted melodrama played on the tv in the background. Nara was finally feeling the exhaustion threatening to take her when,

“A WHOLE NEW WOOOOOORLD. A DAZZLING PLACE I NEVER KNEEEEEW!”

Nara sat straight up on the couch fumbling with her phone and dropping it on the floor.

“BUT WHEN I’M WAY UP HERE, IT’S CRYSTAL CLEAR”

She looked at Hyunwoo and Hoseok, neither seemed alarmed by the obviously tone deaf dying animal that had broken into their home.

“What in the ever loving fuck is that?”

“Ahhh you mean the sound like someone strangling a cat?”

“Obviously”, Nara nodded at Hyunwoo.

“That would be the incomparable Im Changkyun”, he said with a fancy flourish of his wrist for emphasis before returning his attention back to his phone.

“Wait, what? You’re telling me that the little psycho you just told me about, the one who could kill you in 50 ways in 2 seconds, Changkyun likes Disney movies?”

“OH MY GOD HE’S A REALLY BAD BOY, HE’S A REALLY BAD BOY!”

Hyunwoo nodded, still unphased by the screeching coming from the shower where Changkyun was supposedly “singing”, if you could call it that.

“Mhm, big fan of Red Velvet too. Even knows the dances.”

“That song is gonna be stuck in my head for a week.” Hoseok added from his spot beside Nara.

Nara picked up her phone and sat back, laughing as Changkyun broke out into a terrible rendition Rainism.

“I’M GONNA BE A BAD BOY, I’M GONNA BE A BAD BOY, I’M GONNA BE A BAD BAD BOY!”

She hoped he didn’t slip in the shower and break something trying to do the choreography. “These boys were going to be the death of me”, she thought.

Head reeling from all the information and Changkyun’s singing, she bid Shownu and Hoseok goodnight and retired to her room where she fell asleep almost as soon as her head met pillow.

Ch. 2

#wonho fanfic #wonho fanfiction #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #wonho #lee hoseok #monsta x

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misstinfoilhat · 5 years

Text

Whumptober 2019 #9: Shackles - Bungou Stray Dogs

“Uhu, no.” “Kunikida-kun...”

“No.”

“I don't see the big deal...”

“Still no.”

“In that case, I have to make it an order.”

“B-but, director...”

To Kunikida's defense, he held his sulks rather stoically for a twenty-four-year-old who was throwing a fit inside a hotel lobby.

“You and Dazai-kun is sharing a room, and that's final,” Fukuzawa announced dryly, if not a little miffed. They were all tired from traveling and were looking forward to spending the night in the comfort of a fancy hotel. The Agency had been given a mission by a large corporation in Akita. It wasn't a particularly complicated mission, and they expected it to mostly be of the theoretical kind, which was why Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai and Ranpo had gone, instead of the agents with the more physical abilities like Atsushi, Kyouka and Kenji.

Really, if it hadn't been for the fact that the company they'd been hired employed a large amount of ability users, it would have been a police matter more than anything.

Kunikida growled defeatedly, trying his hardest to ignore the bandaged nuisance that stood behind him, leaning his head on his shoulder and grinning triumphantly. Not only did he have to sit with him on the train, listening to the cacophony of Dazai's double suicide composition, but now he had to room with him too. He usually didn't long to spend any prolonged amount of time with the miniature detective either, who, despite almost being nearly thirty years old was licking a lollipop vigorously while the Armed Detective President was literally helping him with a wry zipper on his coat. But, considering the alternative, he'd take that infantile genius any day.

“Well, let's hit the hay,” Dazai announced cheerily, grabbing the keycard from the reception clerk as she was about to hand it over to Kunikida, leaving the idealistic man fuming with fury.

Calm down, Droppo. It would be highly unideal to blow a fuse as early in the mission like this. You can hang in there for a couple of days. You're a strong person. You can fight the urge to strangle him.

“Hey, MacGyver,” Dazai singsonged happily. If Kunikida had been a little more alert, he would have stopped himself from reacting to such a stupid nickname. Unfortunately, he did look up at the dark-haired idiot, standing a couple of steps up in the staircase, giving him exactly what he wanted. Attention. “Snoozer's losers!” Dazai splurted out and jolted up the stairs with childlike glee. I can fight the urge to strangle him.

➈➈➈

The hotel room was spacious and nice, with dark wood parquet floors and crème colored walls with one accent wall in paneling that matched the floors. The lights radiated warmth, which could almost remind one of the illumination of a fireplace. Two single beds were placed in the middle of the room, both with frames in a pleasant brown color, covered in light bedsheets and bedspreads that matched the rest of the tasteful interior.

Dazai noticed how the surroundings immediately soothed Kunikida's sour mood. Good, he thought.

Personally, he had never understood how one's habitat could affect one's mood that much. He had never been one for materialism. Really, he was more than satisfied as long as he had a roof over his head. A bed and a blanket were a bonus, and an own bathroom with bathroom facilities was simply a luxury.

He guessed he preferred the simplicity of having nothing more but the bare necessities. As an executive in the Port Mafia, he had been completely overwhelmed by the opulence of his executive suite. His dorm room at the Agency felt much more comfortable to him. “Well, I guess we should go to bed. We have an early start tomorrow,” Kunikida determined, placing his suitcase on the bed he had decided on (the one farthest from the window, because the air seeps through the cracks and can give you a throat or ear infection, Dazai mimicked in his mind), and started to unpack the neatly folded clothes inside. Dazai shoved his own light traveling bag inside the larger space of the closet, ignoring the disapproving glare from his partner, before shrugging off his jacket and gingerly placing it on a wooden hanger before hanging it inside and shutting the door. The only thing he grabbed from his bag before tossing it aside, was his toiletries which he brought with him into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

At least, seemingly, getting ready for bed. This was exactly what Dazai had dreaded. This mission was going to take at least a week to complete, and he would have to share a bedroom this whole time. Usually, he would unwrap his bandages at night to let his skin breathe, but that was out of the question. The worst part of this whole trip was that he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten an undisturbed night of sleep. There was a lot about his past he couldn't remember. It seemed to have been blocked out of his mind, and he had no desire of getting those pieces of his life back. But at night when unconscious, things tended to come back to him. Nightmares would terrorize him every single night when he was able to sleep. Once, after an especially long time of being unable to even shut his eyes without being struck by his past abuse like a lightning bolt, Yosano had slipped him a bottle of sleeping aids. Apparently, he looked like shit (her words) and it was clear he wasn't getting enough sleep. That night he had tried them. Reading the possible side effects being nausea, headaches, sleepiness (well duh), he saw that one of them were actually suicidal thoughts- so, if he wasn't able to get a peaceful night of sleep from them, there still might be something good to come from of it. It was the worst night he could remember ever having (at least sleeping wise). Before even falling asleep, he started hallucinating terrifying images. The branches scratching at his windows suddenly turned into fingers grasping at the henges and trying to get in. The ceiling was suddenly melting and faceless people were appearing out of the shadows gliding against the walls, throwing their grisly chains after him and trying to pull him back into the hell his mind had been gracious enough to suppress. And when he was incapable of keeping himself awake, he'd been trapped inside the night terrors for several hours, the drugs making it impossible to tear himself awake. That night had covered more of his horrid past than any night before or since. So, he had already decided that he wasn't going to sleep on this mission. He was completely capable of going several days without sleep, he'd done it many times. An entire week though, he was unsure about, but he would do the best he could. Finishing brushing his teeth and changing his bandages, an ordeal that usually took him about forty five minutes, he changed into his sleeping attire, a long-sleeved cotton shirt in white and black sweatpants, and returned to Kunikida in their joint room.

“About time, what the hell were you even doing in there?” Kunikida growled irritated.

“Stealing soap,” Dazai shrugged and settled into his bed. “Are you insane?” Kunikida snapped, starting a tirade about professionalism, hygiene (because; could they really know if they set out new soap to every new guest? They might re-melt old bars or refill bottles with old soap- to which Dazai answered that in which case, it was a good thing that he took it so they couldn't reuse it anymore) and the general criminal system because of it was technically a criminal offense to steal anything.

Dazai tuned his partner out. He actually enjoyed the familiar background noise before the dreaded night. There was something comforting about the normality of it, reminding him that everything was actually just like it was supposed to be and that nothing was going to lurk out from the dark corners or try to get in through the windows in spite the fact that they were currently residing on the thirteenth floor.

While Kunikida set the timer for his nightly ritual, Dazai settled in for the night, putting on his earphones and sinking underneath the hospitality of his thick comforter. ➈➈➈

The next day, Kunikida woke up at six in the morning like he always did. Even if everyone wasn't going to meet up until nine, Dazai knew that Kunikida would never, not even on the weekends, sleep in late. Dazai was grateful for the predictability of his partner's actions. That meant that he could lay down and pretend to be asleep before he woke up. Dazai had spent the night reading over the mission files more times than he cared to hold a count of, as well as re-reading his trusted favorite book, gathering inspiration in case the mission would become extremely tedious and he had to concoct a suicide poison of office supplies. Ink or battery acid seemed like his safest bets- sniffing sharpies would likely just make the work more entertaining, and before he would even know it, they might have another “mushroom incident” on their hands. Kunikida had not been happy with him that day (which was reason enough for a repetition).

The day went by painfully slowly. It was apparent that he would be stuck in a vacant office for the majority of the week, trying to crack hidden codes left by the culprits to communicate between each other in a series of sealed documents. It seemed like work suited best for Ranpo, but the kid wasn't even able to figure out how to turn on the damn computer, so that left the boring part of their mission to him.

Once nighttime dawned upon them once again, Dazai repeated his schpiel, getting ready for bed and settling under the covers without much hassle, pretending to be asleep before Kunikida was done in the bathroom. He had started to become tired now, but he knew he had another night in him easily. ➈➈➈

The day after looked much like the day before, with him downing coffee, locked inside the office, scrolling through hundreds of pages of numbers and codes, trying to keep himself alert of any series of numbers that didn't seem to add up. It was getting harder now. His eyesight seemed to double from time to time if he didn't stay fixated, and he fell in and out of concentration, staring sheepishly onto the screen, scrolling down the pages mindlessly. ➈➈➈

On the fourth day, he had started getting concerned glances from his coworkers. He wasn't blind (just nearly, but only on the one eye), he could see the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror, and he had a constant twitch at the edge of his left one. He felt it too. He was so tired that turning his head towards the president to answer his question (that he had no idea what was) at their morning meeting, felt like he had to rotate a small mountain all on his own. “...your daily report, do you have it?” Fukuzawa repeated. Dazai couldn't remember if he asked him to repeat or not, but he nodded carefully, not wanting to rattle his aching head more than necessary, and pulled outa neatly assembled folder and handed it over.

“There's definitely some correspondence there. It's subtle. They're using a...” He couldn't remember the word for it. Frowning slightly, he made a gesture at them to forget about it. “Ranpo can figure it out. I've highlighted what I could find.”

The rest of the meeting went by without much input from him. Only small noises of approval or disapproval when he was being addressed directly, and he was seriously starting to consider sniffing on the sharpies for a shot of energy.

It was almost a relief once he was able to lock himself back into the dark room with the computer and cases of flash drives. Heavily, he collapsed into the comfortable chair he'd been provided with and poured himself a cup of coffee before booting up the computer and busying himself with his work. ➈➈➈ Before he even realized it, he jerked awake, quickly realizing he had nodded off. Two weary hands came up to drag over his face, and for a short while, he just sat there, resting his head while trying to wipe the fatigue from his facial features. He wasn't sure if he could do this anymore. At some point, he would have to get some shut-eye. Knowing from experience that clinical depression tended to become so much worse from a couple of days without sleep, as well as the increased paranoia that his state of mind could not handle.

The problem was, that the paranoia he would feel when sleep-deprived, was not the same kind of paranoia he should have felt then and there. Because if he did, he might have been more altered to the shadow that lurked behind him.

Before he could register the firm grasp on his hair, his head was thrown forwards, hitting the keyboard at high force. Immediately, he felt his nose crack on impact and he glided, stunned, to the floor.

Within seconds after hitting the floor, a boot stomped on his chest. The wind got knocked out of him, and he struggled to get his body to obey his commands. A little too late, he grabbed at the boot, but it slipped through his fingers before it came down on him once again. A choked gasp escaped him before he kicked with his feet, trying to roll over and get up.

The unknown apparition got in another few hits before he was on his feet. Dazai blocked the next couple of punches as the culprit seemed to start charging an ability induced attack. Dazai calmly touched the person, and the energy he was producing between his hands was killed off instantly. Using the moment of confusion to his advantage, Dazai grabbed the dark-clad figure by the shoulder and spun him around, pressing him violently against the wall. Finally, footsteps were heard outside, and the door was quickly unlocked. Fukuzawa and Kunikida entered, stun gun and katana raised, ready for attack. Ranpo was standing a couple of feet behind them, curious while on guard. “Dazai, are you okay?” Fukuzawa inquired grimly, slowly lowering his weapon as he deemed the situation under control. Dazai tried to sniff in the blood streaming from his nose before he turned around, but the flow was too heavy and he had to admit defeat and let it flow freely.

“Peachy,” he grinned as convincingly as he could, not loosening his hold on his attacker until Kunikida came to take over. Dazai let go and slowly waggled away in a sudden dizzy spell, steadying himself against the wall. He didn't even realize that he drifted down to a sitting position on the floor before Fukuzawa leaned down and held a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Kunikida can take care of things here. I'll take you to a doctor.”

He was sure he argued against it, but the next time Dazai found himself aware of his surroundings, he sat on the examination table at a doctor's office, getting his broken nose forced back into place with a wet cracking sound.

Apparently, he had broken his nose and a rib and needed a few stitches on the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow.

At this point, he felt so out of it that he was unable to argue when Fukuzawa decided to steady him back into the waiting car once he was fixed up, and followed him back to his hotel room. Once inside, he was discarded on his bed, where he fell asleep instantly. ➈➈➈

He was shackled to the wall. Tight, rough chains bore into his fragile skin as he tried to wiggle his wrists out of them, adding to the burning, bleeding marks varnishing his juvenile skin. He had figured out how to dislocate his thumbs now, making it easier to slip his hands through the firm iron rings of his cuffs. So now, they had placed another cuff around his neck. Even if he tired- he couldn't dislocate that. Not if he wanted to get away from here.

There was no way in hell that he'd give them the satisfaction of killing himself in here- they were not going to see him crumble. Not going to see him give up. He was going to keep breathing until the day he could look them in the eyes as they bled out and suffered from the same torture they had inflicted upon him for years on end. He was going to live until the day he could hear them scream in agony. Hear them beg for release.

Years went by before he could do that. Years of burning hot branding irons, electricity, and painful medical experiments. Years of watching clones of himself being developed inside test tubes, maturing inside small bottles of liquid and being born from sick DNA splicing and engineering.

His clones always turned out so macabre. Usually developing an extra body part or completely missing one. The ones that clearly was lacking his ability of nullification were slain as soon as they were “born”, and the ones who did, usually died a long agonizing death from organ failure, if they were ever viable at all.

Their remains were laying there, rotting inside his holding cell. He couldn't even smell it anymore, he was so used to it.

His head hurt. It always did when he was starting to remember something. Something he had forgotten and was fighting its way to the surface, usually making his grim existence even more unbearable.

What triggered it this time, seemed to be the new chain around his neck. ...it was raining. His clothes felt heavy, making his emaciated body struggle even harder to move. The memory was blue- usually symbolizing that it was bad. All his memories were blue or red. But the red ones had only come recently, and he hadn't even been granted the fortune of suppressing them yet.

He was staggering along, suddenly dropping to his knees in a puddle, quickly being pulled up by the chain around his neck by... someone. A man. He didn't have a face, but he still visited in his dreams sometimes.

It was the day he got here- he hadn't even realized that there was a before. For the longest time, he thought he was one of the experiments. The clones.

...maybe he was. Maybe he was just that one successful clone, abilities, memories and all from the original host. Fuck! He was such an abomination- he had never had the right to be alive at all. No wonder life was so painful.

And then, they were back, those nameless, faceless scientists, and he knew it was time for another round of... of...

...of what exactly, he wasn't sure. He only remembered it would be cruel and extremely agonizing.

The cuffs were taken off- but it didn't matter. He didn't have the strength to hold himself up anyway. His head thudded to the stone floor, while his hands laid uselessly by his side, his body unable to move. New shackles were added, and he felt his already dislocated elbows being tugged forward, forcing him to try and stand up but he couldn't only stumble his way after them, as fast as he was physically able.

Once inside the room (the room- the- the fucking room), he understood what was going to happen. He couldn't quite see it but he still knew and it was bad he had done bad and it was starting all over again. He was hurled onto the table (the cold table, the one that always hurt and he didn't want to please don't-) and leather straps were being tightly fastened on his head, chest, arms, abdomen and feet.

The doctor prepared the needle that was supposed to make him mellow and obey but it hurt- hurt so much and it slowly, agonizingly slowly, was being lowered towards his...

“Dazai!”

Finally catching his breath, he threw himself off the bed he suddenly knew he was lying on and scrambled across the floor, pushing his back against the wall (because the wall is safe, no one can come up from behind- no one can surprise me and I can fight if they do) and curled tightly in on himself, hiding behind his knees and simultaneously protecting his vitals.

How long had he forgotten to breathe?

He was out of breath, panting, before he realized that he wasn't tied down anymore.

And he was certainly not alone. Shit.

Hesitantly, he looked up and into the somber, steeled gaze of Fukuzawa, who was standing over him in a slight crouch. Dazail looked to his sides, making sure that there weren't any more spectators before he warily brushed both of his hands through his hair, winching a little as his fingers brushed over the newly stitched wound over his eyebrow.

“I had a bad dream,” Dazai chuckled apologetically, trying his best to glue on a smile for his superior.

“Yes, you seem to be prone to those,” Fukuzawa answered gravely, not averting his eyes from his subordinate.

“Tsk, not really,” Dazai tried but understood that his bluff had been caught long before this moment. He lowered his head, resting it on his knees while waiting for Fukuzawa's verdict.

The silver-haired man used a bit more time than Dazai had anticipated before he spoke again.

“I'm sorry for this.”

His reply made Dazai's slightly swollen eyes peer up. Unintelligble, he uttered a weak, “Huh?”

“I'm sorry for putting you through this. I know sharing rooms is hard for you.”

Dazai had no idea where this was coming from. How in the world could Fukuzawa know about his nightmares? Unable to say anything in return, he just looked quizzically at his elder.

“I've read Yosano's reports, Dazai-kun. I know about your nightmares. They’ve occurred everytime you've been commited to the infirmary since you started with us, and I don't think I have to tell you that it's been quite a lot of times during these past years.”

There was a small pause, clearly left for Dazai to say something. But when he didn't, Fukuzawa continued.

“So, I know how you struggle with sleeping. And I knew before going on this mission that you'd have a hard time... I know you, Dazai-kun. You wouldn't want to be a nuisance. Unfortunatly, we only got these two rooms, the rest of the hotel is stacked. I thought that sharing a room with Kunikida would be the best way for you to relax. If I could, I'd put Ranpo, Kunikida and myself in one room and you by yourself... but that would've been a bit strange...”

Dazai was slowly beginning to relax now that his boss was starting to speak a little more informally. He always liked to witness the humanity of the usually stoic man. Lowering his shoulders a bit and working on the strenght to get back to bed, the trembling in his knees made it clear to him that he wasn't ready to move just yet. Now, he felt like he needed to say something. Something to disarm the situation.

“I...” was all he could muster before his voice broke off and he had to settle back into his defensive seat on the floor. Fukuzawa seemed saddened by it, which only crushed Dazai’s heart. He never wanted to see the man who had taken a chance on him when no one else would in such disarray because of his own foolishness. He loathed himself for it.

“If it's of any consolation, the guy you caught has admitted to everything. He's given us all the names of his culprits, and we're looking at a hefty bonus for finishing the job early.”

Dazai mustered up a smile, tired eyes creaking at the raising of his cheekbones. Fukuzawa retuned it and leaned down, helping Dazai stand up and settle onto the bed.

“Now, I want you to sleep. We're not leaving until tomorrow morning, and the rest of us have a lot of work to do down at the police station. You've done your part and then some. We probably won't return until late. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

Dazai was already half asleep on the bed but nodded vaugly before letting out a deep, easy exhale and grabbed onto his pillow. Never had he been comfortable being in such a vounerable position in front of anyone. He wasn't sure if it simply was exhaustion or if it was... trust? But for the first time since he didn't know when, he felt happy to settle into bed, for several hours of a good night's sleep.

Fukuzawa stayed with him until soft snores were heard steaidly with each breath of Dazai’s broken nose. Then, he gingerly pulled the comforter over him, before shutting the lights and exiting the room.

Ranpo and Kunikida was waiting outside.

“How's he doing?” Ranpo asked worriedly with a slight knot between his eyebrows.

“Better,” Fukuzawa answered with a soft smile, ruffling his as-good-as-adopted son's head over his hat.

“Is he asleep?” Kunikida asked grimly, trying to get a look inside the room before Fukuzawa carefully closed the door, trying to make it as soundless as possible to not jostle their sleeping coworker.

“For now,” the silver-fox replied earnestly. There wasn't any quick-fix to Dazai's issues, but this was a start as good as any.

The three of them walked silently towards the second hotel room, ready to settle in for the night. It was time for Dazai to rest comfortably. And if that meant for one of three grown men to swallow their pride and sleep on a sofabed, that would just have to do.

#whump community #whumptober2019 #whumptober #no.9 #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #schackles #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi

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akaspiderman · 6 years

Text

oblivious ☆ part two

pairing: peter parker x female!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing ??

plot: (Y/N) could not make it anymore obvious, she was dropping Peter hints like crazy. Despite being insanely intelligent, Peter is the most obvious person ever.

A/N: catch part one here bc it wouldn’t let me post it at once

Her phone dings before she can contemplate the pros and cons of telling him. ‘Hey can you come over? I need help’ is on the lock screen from the one and only Peter.

(y/n): Sure, what’s up?

P: Cecilia invited me to a family dinner and idk what to wear

(y/n): Isn’t this early to be meeting her family?

P: idk, but she said that it was with her aunt and she always asks if she’s seeing someone. She said it would shut her up for a while.

(y/n) was baffled to say the least, sure ice skating was one thing but the fact that he’s meeting her family was shocking. She was just expecting Peter to take it slow, not jump right into it. It was nice having her heart stabbed.

P: Are you coming?

(y/n): Yeah

She rolls of the couch into her bedroom. She tries to look more presentable by switching sweatpants for jeans. She then decides to change into a silky top just for the hell of it and throws a coat over top. Was she trying to look better and hope Peter all of a sudden sees her in a different light? Undoubtly, yes.

The problem was, (y/n) knew she shouldn’t be hung up on this. It was her fault for not being straightforward to Peter. She was the one who chickened out of asking him out, she should forget and move on, that was logical. In her heart however, it just didn’t feel right, watching him go on dates with someone else. (y/n) wanted to be happy for Peter, she truly did. But the voice in her head is screaming at her for not fixing this.

When she arrives, Peter answers the door. His brown hair untidy, he was wearing a midtown hoodie and some sweats. He was smiling, before letting her in, “Hey, glad you came.”

“Yeah, didn’t have any plans,” (y/n) mutters.

Peter leads her into his room, and it was in terrible condition. Clothes were all over the ground and spread out on his bed, he usually didn’t care that much for looks.

“I have no idea what to wear,” Peter states. Arms crossed against his chest, looking around the room.

“Is it fancy?”

“She said it was a nicer place, but not like super over the top.”

(y/n) takes a seat on his bed, inspecting the closet. “Any ideas so far?”

“No, at first I was going to go in a suit.”

She gives a dissapproving look to Peter.

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” Peter continues, “But I don’t know if I’m underdressing now.”

This was worst than she thought. Cecilia had Peter questioning what to wear, Peter who didn’t care how he dressed at school. He was so into her, it broke (y/n)’s heart all over again. This was stupid, she shouldn’t have came. She should have made up a crappy excuse and continued to mope at her house. Now, she’s face to face with Peter about to scream at him for being so stupid. She was right here along, she just wanted to tell him that maybe he should consider someone else, maybe someone who was in this room with him.

“What about a button-up?” (y/n) whispers, her voice going soft.

“Are you sure? That’s pretty fancy too,” Peter pulls out some button up options as (y/n) suggested.

She should tell him right now, it was in the early stages of the relationship. It wouldn’t hurt him that bad, he was just getting to know her. If she told him now, maybe it would be okay. She can’t ignore her feelings for him like she thought she could. She wanted to explode everytime he talked.

“How about a green one?” Peter holds the top to his chest, raising an eyebrow.

She was off in space now, thinking about him too much. Thinking about what she should say to him, thinking about how she can break the news. That she wanted him, she wanted him so badly and he’s so stupid for not seeing that. It would be so easy to fix it all.

“(y/n)? Hello?” Peter waves the shirt in front of her face.

“Do you like her? Like a lot?” that was all she could manage to say.

“Cecilia? Yeah, she’s nice and gorgeous,” Peters face flushing.

(y/n) bit her lip, god she’s so stupid. She didn’t cry about this at all yet, she never justified this situation enough to let herself. Crying over boys is stupid is what she told herself, that he wasn’t worth the tears. But maybe the combination of helping him get ready for a date while she was still interested was too much for her to handle. Don’t do it, don’t do it, her mind chanted. She was going to burst and she refuses to do it here, not when Peter was thrilled to be picking out clothes.

“Are you okay?” Peters voice becoming lighter, he drops the hanger and crouches down to be on the same eye level as (y/n), clearly seeing the tears that were threatening to fall.

She inhaled sharply, god she was gonna cry. She hated that sentence, it always made her cry. It triggers everything, and now tears were escaping her eyes. This was stupid, she shouldn’t be hurt by this. She had no right to cry, but Peter had to go on and steal her heart.

“(y/n)?”

“I have to go,” and (y/n) stands up reaching for the door, when Peter grabs her wrist. She tries to pull away, but Peter keeps a firm hand on her. “Peter, please.”

“I’m not letting you go when you’re crying,” Peter tighetens his grip when (y/n) tries to tug free.

“It’s stupid,” her voice cracks. She wasn’t wrong, it was stupid to tell Peter. He was already smitten by Cecilia.

“It’s probably not, we can choose an outfit later.”

God how stupid he can be. That ‘choose an outfit’ line sends her over the edge, the tears she was kind of holding back fall down rapidly. (y/n) tries to keep her sobbing in, this was embarrassing. How could she cry right now? Of all the times she can have a breakdown about this, it’s in front of Peter.

Peter pulls her in for a hug. He wraps his arms around her, his hand on the back of her head. (y/n) was whimpering into his shoulder, letting her tears dampen his shirt. She gives it five seconds, then she shoves him away. Pushing him away, reaching for the door again. Peter reacts too fast, blocking the door right away. Everytime (y/n) made a move, he was intercepting her arm.

“You’re - youre, so st-stupid,” she says struggling to put words together.

“What?” His face was a mixture of hurt and confusion.

“C-can I g-go?”

Peter steps to the side, letting her open the door. Peter trails behind her, “Look, what’s wrong I won’t judge you?”

She spins around, Peter nearly running into her. The tears were more steady now, but she was enraged now more than sad. How could he be so stupid, he was one of the brightest students in school and he still could not see her feelings for him? She made it so obvious, so clear. But he couldn’t tell that she was falling in love with him. He was blind to the fact that she loved his nerd jokes and watched all the Star War movies because he told her too. He didn’t get that she always complimented him and how she would always make time for him when he needed her, even now when he was on his way to a date with someone that’s not her.

“For gods sake Peter, I like you,” (y/n)’s voice raises, but still cracking as she says it. Even her rage couldn’t disguise her remorse.

“W-what?”

“You’re the biggest idiot on the entire planet. I made it so clear, I kept flirting with you! It was so obvious. You didn’t even notice and I liked you for so long. Seventh grade Peter, the seventh grade. Then all of the sudden you’re dating some random girl you’ve never mentioned to me. You’re meeting her family already. You never even told me you liked her. Do you know how embarrassing that it is flirting with you when you weren’t even the slightest bit interested? I didn’t want to say anything because you’re so smiley when you talk about it, I didn’t want to hurt you. On top of that, Ned and MJ knew for months though, they knew your little crush. That part just hurt me in a friend way, knowing that you could tell them but not me,” (y/n) was breathing shakily, but her eyes were fierce. She felt a big weight lift off her shoulders, she confessed. She did it. “I like you Peter Benjamin Parker,” this time her voice was gentle.

Peter stood there dumbfounded with this information, this was the least he expected from her. It never occurred that compliments meant something more. Maybe he was stupid.

He took too long to form a response, because her hand was opening the front door. He stood there in place, this was too much to take in. She spilled her guts out to him, but he didn’t even react. He was just frozen in place, that was just plain insulting and infuriating. She told him what she felt, he couldn’t even bother to tell her if he felt the same way.

Before she closes the door, she looks behind her shoulder, tears still steaming down, “I always liked it when you wore that red flannel buttoned up with your favorite jeans.” Then, she’s gone.

(y/n) formulates how to stay away from Peter forever plan the second she’s out the door. There was no way she could face him after all of that, she was so ashamed of the way it went. He just stood there, and just like that all her hope was completely crushed along with her heart. She dreads the fact that she has to walk home with her eyes all puffy and her obnoxious gasping for air, but she refuses to stay inside that building. So she sucks it up and faces the streets. Some faces judge her, but most people pretend that she didn’t get her heart crushed.

(y/n) was zoning out, letting her take in the predicament she was in. She couldn’t tell if she was bitter or hurt, probably a combination of both. Then someone grabs her arm. Panic runs though her, and she turns slapping the person.

The person stumbles back, holding his cheek. That’s when she sees him. Peter stroking his cheek, he was in the exact outfit she suggested.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she gushes out, reaching towards him before she stops herself.

“No, it’s fine,” he brushes it off. (y/n) already spun away, walking the path back to her apartment. He jogs to catch up, grabbing her arm once again. This time she dosen’t hit him, rather she tries to yank her hand away. “Look, we need to talk.”

“Well it seemed like you had plenty to say earlier,” she scoffs, looking to face him. She wants to run away from him, but she couldn’t. Her feet were planted onto the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I was just, just surprised. I, um, wanted to tell you that I’m stupid. I should have noticed and I dont want to hurt you like that. You’re one of my best friends.”

(y/n) lets out a soft sob, best friend. Stupid. She would never be more than that to him, heck she was the least important best friend, he told Ned and MJ ages before he told her about Cecilia.

“I want to try it, dating you. I used to like you actually,” Peter adds on.

She could almost laugh, try it? “I don’t want you to date me out of pity Peter,” she tugs again at her arm with no success. When did Peter get such a solid grip she wonders. She also questions why she denied him, this was what she wanted. She didn’t want him to only be with her because she broke down, it wouldn’t be right. She wanted him to date her because he genuinely sees her that way.

“It’s not like that. I don’t know if you heard, but I used to like you. I got over it because you were way out of my league and I didn’t want to get my hopes up. But then you tell me that you like me and I realize that I still do like you. I want to be with you, it’s not because you’re guilt tripping me,” he explains to her. His eyes were pleading that she would take a chance on him again. “I didn’t react right away because I’m stupid and needed time to construct a response.”

(y/n) almost let’s herself smile, “What about Cecilia?”

“I canceled on her.”

“Peter!” she hits his arm, she may want Peter but he doesn’t have to ditch Cecilia on a date.

“I know, I know. I texted her saying that I was sorry and how I don’t think this will work out for us. She said it way okay and that she didn’t feel any special connection either. I think we were both just happy to go out on a date that we both ignored that we had no chemistry. So it’s okay, and if it isn’t, I’ll deal with the backlash.”

(y/n) wipes the tears away, she finally relaxes, this was it.

Peter slides his hand from her wrist into her hand, intertwining their fingers. He was beyond nervous, his heart racing faster just like hers. “Let me walk you home.”

☆ I was going to end it with her storming out but i decided to be nice sksksks ☆

tags: @choke-me-sweet-pea @tomspeteb @bluelalal @marvellouspengwing @lou-la-lou @tomshufflepuff @acciogryffindor @sassybisquit @iamsatansoul @buckysjuicyplums @its-a-mess-here @polaristrange @wishingforahome @jasmino2001 @winchesters-and-janeways @dudewherearethepeaches

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshots #peter parker one shots #tom holland #marvel #spiderman #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman oneshot #spiderman one shot #spiderman imagine

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Hobbit Soulmate Pt 16

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 - Pt 15 -

Tags –

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen

@obnoxious-in-pink,

…

Under your covers you woke to the sound of your alarm alone in your bed still smelling of Richard from the night before. “Breakfast is nearly done, Darling.”

A withheld groan tried to escape you when you climbed to your feet. Sluggishly you brushed your teeth and hair, washing your face before stripping and pulling on fresh layers up to your same jeans and sweater from the day before hoping to keep Richard’s scent with you to keep you calm. Your bag and violin were already by the door leaving you to just take your place at the counter to find it with a full meal prepped for you with a fresh warm cup of tea. “I thought a big breakfast might help.”

You smiled at him, “Thank you.”

Setting the now empty skillet aside you took a sip of your tea as he said, “I um, I was wondering about the plate in the fridge. It’s empty.”

“Oh.” You lowered your cup and sighed when the door was open revealing your plate from your toast the morning prior. “It’s from yesterday. I must have put it there by mistake.” Gently you added it into the sink and moved back to your plate saying, “I gotta buy some stools or something. Sorry.”

He shook his head, “Don’t be. Honestly I never even bought the table for my place, Dad just sent it over one day when Chris said I was eating over the sink.” You chuckled weakly starting on the meal, “I was wondering. After school if you’re not tired we could go see a flic. Toy Soldiers, or even Shakespeare in Love, if you’re in the mood for a romance, haven’t seen that one yet.”

With a smirk at him you nodded, “Ya, I can come back, drop the stuff off. We can go to the one by the mall, I would have to stop at a shop after. Got told I need a little black dress for school.”

“Oh?” he smirked and nodded, “Not a problem. They throwing a party?”

“It’s a group project, I have a rehearsal for His Girl Friday.”

“Ooh, that’s a great one. Just a snippet or the full play adaptation?”

“Um, It’s part of the final grade, we split into groups, it’s a 30 minute conversion of classic films. I was the only girl so I get to play Hildy.”

Richard chuckled, “Is it just an in class presentation, or after school?”

“Oh, if you wanted to see it it’s on Wednesday, they are letting family in, I’m certain you can come too. They wanted it on the stage, so it’s sets, costumes, makeup, full thing.”

Richard wet his lips, “Was um, Lee in your group?”

You shook your head, “No, he got pulled into Casablanca’s group, did his last week. I got asked to be in, how do I word it, they’re really talented, just not fully into it until they’re in costume. So it was a bunch of lazy rehearsals then couple weeks back I helped them find their suits and then they all just fell into it flawlessly. Usually I got paired with Lee, so it’s a nice change.”

“That’s good. That you’re happy with it, I mean.”

You grinned at him, “Who knows, after our movie date you could possibly help me find some stools.”

“I would love to.” The plates were cleared and with another warm kiss after helping you into your coat you were off to school. Leaving him to his script with a notepad with directions to a few places nearby he might need along with a set of keys for him.

Down the steps you trotted and sighed seeing Jordan limping his way towards you, thankfully the streets were crowded at this hour enabling you to slip through to the subway without him.

All day you felt the weight of uncertain eyes on you wondering if they should ask why Lee wasn’t there but at least through the teachers by the end of the day everyone knew he would be back in a week just leaving the awkward stares at the bandage on your arm when you rolled up your sleeve. Stirring up curiosity to know just how injured you were under that baggy sweater of yours.

Breakfast wasn’t hard and after you’d gone, without an interest in rehearsing just yet he cleaned up after breakfast. Once that was done he glanced around peeking into each room seeing the little bits you had added here and there stirring a grin onto his face remembering this was how his first home had been. Sparse and organized how he liked it to ease his lonely days a bit smoother. In the bedroom next he remade the bed and eyed his out of place suitcase, two weeks wasn’t long but at least in your closet the empty shelves and cubbies on the right proved to have more than enough space for him.

All set out of his bag he pushed the suitcase under the racks to the left to be out of the way once he added his toiletries bag into the bathroom. A glance back into the bedroom brought the light he’d forgotten to shut off to his attention. Into the doorway he entered again reaching up for the string only to see a brightly colored container in a mostly closed drawer on your side under your partially open sock drawer.

Curiously he crouched down easing it open, wiggling the stubborn drawer to do so until the box of gloves, a strand of condoms, lube and a strap on were plainly in front of him. “Why does she have a strap on?”

A flurry of daydreams flooded into his mind, he’d known of the toys with suction cups for self pleasure and others that vibrated, but to have a fully harnessed strap on absolutely perplexed him. You had never mentioned dating women or even being sexually attracted to them, he shuddered at the thought your old neighbor could have left them behind. Leaving just the hope you were holding it for someone, who, he had no idea. But as he closed the drawer again and shut off the light on his path to his script to distract himself he remembered Chris’ tipsy confession exactly, ‘She said she fucked her ex.’

Shaking his head he stretched out on your couch focusing on the words until the alarm he set went off signaling his time to get ready for you. Your first date together, even with errands after, still was a date and he would treat it as such.

He didn’t pack anything fancy and by the chill on the windows he skipped his dress shirt for his best sweater over the jeans he knew you loved pretending the stolen grazes on his ass and thighs were all accidental. A teasing game but he loved the smirk and slight blush on your cheeks when you thought you got away with your little game, especially that nip at your lip and shift of your hair and lean to brush your hip against his hand on ‘accident’ signaling him to join you. With the toy far from his mind he grabbed his script again to fill your travel time home.

The final bell rang and out the front door you strolled with two of your group partners who gave the final nods of approval at the design of the dress you would look for on their way to the town cars waiting for them. When you left their sides however you felt a familiar presence at your side. Jordan sighed picking up his pace to keep up with you, “Have you heard from Lee?”

“He’s in a boot, broken ribs, scrapes and bruises mostly and out for the week. Why are you bothering me about this?”

Jordan, “He won’t take my calls.”

“Probably sleeping.” Onto the subway he followed you wondering why you’d gotten off at Lee’s stop. In your last class you had been given a packet with what he’d missed and they had passed it onto you unfortunately.

Jordan, “You’re going to Lee’s?”

“Dropping off some schoolwork. Don’t you have anything to do instead of follow us around?”

“I have a job.” You glanced at him, “It’s only part time. They wouldn’t give me any more hours.”

“Get a hobby.” You stated before spotting William signaling your trot over calling his name earning you a curious smile. “Hey, teachers asked me to pass this off to Lee.”

Will nodded, “Got it.” Then spotted Jordan and darted off around the corner to his house after giving the ex a scowl. In Jordan’s distraction you managed to slip away back to your apartment where you eased inside quietly hearing Richard rehearsing still.

A grin spread onto your face as you eased in hearing the end of his monologue only to see his stunned expression when you read out the next part from memory making him smile. “You know this one?”

You nodded, “Mrs Henderson loved it. Told me it was her favorite to see live. Used to read it to her when she had her fits to calm her down.”

He chuckled and set the script aside moving closer to claim a kiss, coating you in a gentle waft of his cologne showing he’s primped for you, further proven by his nicer sweater over his jeans. “Ready for our date?”

You nodded, “You look nice, primping for little me.”

He chuckled stealing another kiss to purr against your lips after, “There is no way I’m going out looking like a slob on your arm.” Kissing you again breaking your chance to roll your eyes. Pulling back he pulled on his coat guiding you back to the door where once it was locked his hand folded into yours.

Down the steps you trotted beside him and stole a glance up at him on the last flight, “I um.” He glanced at you with a soft grin, “I sort of have to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

You nodded and wet your lips, “Ya, Lee’s ex has sort of been following us around. So, ya, we might have an awkward shadow for a bit.”

Moving closer he kissed your forehead, “Well they haven’t done anything worse than linger around?”

You shook your head, “Just being annoying really. Lee being in bed rest doesn’t help.”

“Well, hopefully since I’m here they’ll go away.”

“Or try to hit on you.”

Outside again you led Richard through the cold back to the subway where you spotted Jordan smirking in his limp closer to you after he’d left your front stoop in irritation that he’d missed you. Looking you over in the crowd he asked, “Jaqi, thought you were in for the night, big plans?”

With a sigh you replied, “Sort of. Go find something to do Jordan.”

The name made Richard blink in confusion as it rang a stunning bell. “Jordan. Lee’s ex Jordan?” His eyes scanned over the young man just barely taller than you but broader and far more muscular, “Why the fuck would he pick him over Jaqi?”

A grin eased across Jordan’s face when in boarding the freshly arrived train he saw your hand locked with the tall man beside you and asked, “And just where did you find this fine piece for yourself. Much better than the bit in the zoo.” He sat on the bench on front of yours turned around with a grin asking Richard, “I’m Jordan, what’s your name?”

Flatly Richard held his straight face answering, “Richard.”

In a glance at you he asked again, “British, ooh. No wonder. Might have to make a trip of my own to England, clearly they must be falling from trees if you’ve managed to find two to come out to see you.”

“Jordan, what do you want? I told you to leave me out of this.”

He waved his hand, “We’re friends, come on.”

You scoffed, “Friends, really now? Someone needs to buy a dictionary.”

For a few minutes you sat tolerating him you signaled Richard that this was your stop you both stood at the stopping of the car though in Jordan’s slow rise his hand reached out grabbing Richard’s sleeve making you both pause. “So Richard, if you get tired of whatever Jaqi has planned-,”

Richard cut him off lowly saying after tugging his sleeve free from his grip, “Let me say this first. I’ve heard from Jaqi about you and Lee. And honestly I was expecting someone, far more, tempting. Now we’re getting off this train and if you follow us or Jaqi again you’ll have more than that split lip.” Sharply he turned with his hand on your lower back while Jordan slumped back into his seat watching the doors shut between you.

At your side he eased his arm tighter around your back smirking in your rise up to kiss his cheek and soft, “Thank you.”

His lips met your forehead and he replied with a spreading smirk, “So, that’s the Jordan.”

You nodded feeling as if stones were filling your stomach, “Yup.”

He glanced at you, “Jordan is quite the ambiguous name.”

You nodded, “Yes it is.”

He chuckled lowly, “I understand why you didn’t say who he left you for.”

“Not mine to share.” He nodded, “I didn’t-,”

He leaned over to kiss your forehead again, “I understand. If I do get to meet the illustrious Lee I’ll keep it to myself.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, “You just had to add the tempting part?”

He nodded smirking deeper, “Yes. I did. Clearly a vast decline in taste.”

Leaning more against his side he chuckled at your soft giggle under your breath. Thinking to himself how it all clicked, clearly the toy wasn’t yours, and Chris most likely had no clue just how dead on to the truth he had been saying you had fucked your ex. And for all the guys in the world that would be irritated or jealous he couldn’t be, and whatever you had experimented with this jerk of an ex didn’t matter as it clearly made sense that after what Richard had done you would want to be the one in charge.

Cuddling closer he looked over the crowded mall lot you were passing through up to the movie theater on the side. “Romance of humor?”

“Up to you.”

In a purr after a kiss on your cheek he said, “I think Romance.” Making you giggle as he kissed your cheek again. Tickets and snacks later you were walking up the steps to the seats you picked to be nestled under his arm with another stolen kiss. The full film he was content enjoying it with you leaning against his chest and side holding you sweetly between kisses to the top of your forehead.

The crowds buzzed and through them you wove hand in hand to the dress shop where he grinned fully assisting you in choosing the final dress. Then made a stop into the video shop for your nights in and Richard’s distractions. After which you caught a tempting scent and asked, “Did you want a pretzel?”

He nodded, “If you’d like one.”

With a chuckle he joined you in line accepting the pretzel you had offered him while taking your own for the walk out to the streets again. Joking and giggling you made it back to the subway to head to the same shop you had bought the fancy table at. “Now, stools.” You said leading the path inside leaving him still grinning at the brush of your fingers along the side of his thigh.

Each piece you looked at you couldn’t help but blush at Richard’s gaze still being on you, “You’re supposed to be looking at the furniture.”

He chuckled leaning in to steal a kiss on your lips, “I am imagining you on them Darling while watching your reactions to them. So far you don’t seem to like any enough to take them home.”

His eyes turned back to the furniture while his hand eased out of sight over your hip with fingers curling to brush along the curve of your thigh just under your ass in a fake lean in to inspect another piece making you giggle and steal another peck on his cheek.

Twin mango colored stools with plush padding and dark legs drew your eye and Richard chuckled after you had paid for them, holding the pair of them, one in each arm for the short trip back to the apartment where you helped him carry one up the steps and unlocked the door to help him in. Locking up behind you your next stop was in the kitchen where you set the pair down and grinned.

A squeak left you at his lifting you onto the one closest him in his chuckle in easing closer to you between your thighs to purr, “Just the right height Darling.”

Your hand gripped the open flap on his coat and he leaned into the kiss you started growing fiery fast. Not wanting to push things too fast he drew back looking over your films and guided you back to bed and put on your choice for the night, changing into some sweats pretending he didn’t see you sneak the strip of condoms out of the drawer on your way to the bed to join him. Chuckling lowly he wrapped his arms around you holding you between his legs leaning against the pile of pillows propping him up.

Slowly he traced his fingers over your stomach under your brushed up tank top and as your fingers began to rake over his thighs a smirk eased onto his lips, but soon dropped at his lean down to kiss the nape of your neck in a slow trail of his fingers to your waistband. Arching back against his chest you relaxed fully while his free hand trailed where it may and the other drew growing moans from you. In a reach back you eased your fingers through his hair feeling his stubble and lips brushing against your skin. In the lulling euphoria of your first climax you heard him purr by your ear, “Now Darling, you just relax.”

He eased you out of his lap to straddle your leg easing your shorts down before sliding down to bring you to the edge again, gripping your hips the nearer you got, struggling not to grin at your fingers combing through his hair stirring pleased hums from him only aiding in tipping you over the edge. Your second moment relaxing ended with his brow rising at your lean over to claim one of the hidden packets you tore open making him chuckle and slide higher. A brush of his sweats down later he eased inside you trying not to finish at your settling around him. Slow and steady thrusts filled you deeply.

A single shift of your hips brought back his smirk at the gasping moan it stirred urging his hand to your hip holding you right there as he purred, “Right there, Love.” Trailing his lips along your neck in his deliberate deep thrusts while his hand snaked under your back and into your hair guiding your arch a bit more until he heard the soft whimper knowing you were getting closer fully aligned for your pleasure. Warmly it washed over you and the tightening around him your climax spurred on urged his own.

Once out his lips found yours again at the smoothing of your hand over his cheek, and the easing of it up into his hair stirred a low hum from hum as he settled above you deepening the kiss while you wrapped around him steadily drawing him into another round. Back between his legs you were held for the rest of the movie, most of which you had slept through after the amorous bout after his low apologies once again on his hurting you silenced by another fiery kiss from you.

Sunrise filled the room slowly and Richard felt the sinking of the mattress beside him in your kneeling above him. A sleepy grin eased onto his face purring, “Morning Darling.” He turned his head seeing the time marking his missing making you breakfast again.

“I made breakfast. Sorry not to wake you, but I’m on my way to being almost late.” Your lips met his and he hummed lowly in the tender moment. Opening his eyes again he caught your puzzling expression that dropped at your next peck. Barely an inch from his lips you rushed out, “Love you.” Pecking him on the lips again before your attempt to pull away.

“Hey, Hey.” His hand grabbed your thigh helping you settle on his lap stealing another warm kiss ending with his purred, “I love you.” Those words easing a creeping blush and smile onto your face after your embarrassing squeak making him chuckle and ask, “Night in tonight?”

“Yup.”

His arms loosened after another kiss and his hand patted your ass, “Off to school now Love.” He winked at you making your blush deepen, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

On your feet you nodded through a smirk, glancing at the blankets tenting on his lap, “Yes you will.”

In a peek down he chuckled and grinned up at you watching you head out before plopping down on his back to the sound of the door locking behind you freeing him to whisper, “Oh fuck I love you.” Sitting up again he rose to his feet thinking of whatever he had to relax, “Nope, I’m gonna wait.” Pulling on a fresh pair of briefs and his sweats, tossing his old briefs into your hamper and his sweater on over to head to the kitchen to eat the breakfast you made him with a wide grin as he planned the meal he was going to fix for you.

Pt 17

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #Lee Pace x Reader OC

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headquartersforlievmuses · 6 years

Text

► James Patrick March

James Patrick March was born on October 30th, 1895 in the Eastern United States. He started killing in the 1920s, and in 1925, he built the Hotel Cortez, which opened on August 23 of 1926. Having constructed a number of secret rooms and hidden hallways to carry out his twisted hobby of murder, James used the hotel's infrastructure to hide all evidence of his life as a serial killer, creating blocked hallways and bricked rooms to make killing more fun and keep his victims' bodies for further acts of depravity, as well as concealing their bodies from the police. His wife, Elizabeth, loved hearing his victims screaming for help and encouraged his dark desires, much to her own amusement.

Oftentimes, James took great fun in the art of murder, killing his victims in a number of playful, thespian-esque ways (i.e. decapitating them via a bloody game of cricket and walling them up alive, among other gruesome methods). He would then have sex with their dead bodies before throwing their remains down a series of chutes that were hidden in each room, which led to a dungeon in the basement that he used to store corpses.

March confessed he had tried many drugs in his time. However, none could satisfy him; it led to his serial murder addiction. He was also said to be a man of "new money", meaning he made his own fortune, to which he added he did at an early age. He described his father as being a true believer in God, but the "meanest son of a bitch [he'd] ever seen". March despises religion, explaining to one of his victims that it was the worst thing in the world right before he killed him. He states he was going to have to kill God, because as long as there was a God, men like himself would never find peace. He also went as far as to collect all the bibles from the hotel bed stands and arrange them with a pile of his victims - slaves that were working on the Sabbath - to leave behind for the police; the first killing in the Ten Commandments murders.

On February 25, in the early 30s, the police came to the Hotel Cortez to arrest March after receiving an anonymous phone call (from his faithful minion, Miss Evers) assuring them that March was responsible for the first Ten Commandments murders. When Miss Evers told him that the police arrived at the Cortez in search of him, he decided to kill them both by letting her choose which way to die - with a knife or with a gun. She decided to let him kill her (because she was secretly in love with him) as his last victim, and after shooting her, he sliced his own throat. He became one of the most famous serial killers of all time; the ghosts of his victims and himself have remained trapped in the Cortez ever since.

When John Lowe visited the Hotel Cortez in 2010 for a night of drinks, he encountered Donovan, who took it upon himself to invite the detective to "a party upstairs", thereby interrupting March's monthly dinner with The Countess. March was enraged at the interruption, but quickly became intrigued regarding homicides investigated by John earlier in the day. March was so impressed by John that he sent The Countess away in order to spend more quality time with the officer, who commented on how out of place and time March seemed. March explained it as a discomfort with the modern world, keeping John oblivious of his true nature as a ghost. He went on to muse about John's "jet black aura", which he claimed signified either a cloaked identity or a dogged determination. Over absinthe, John and March talked for 2 days, until eventually John passed out. In a matter of moments shortly after, March discussed John's potential as a protege with The Countess, whom he asked for assistance in pushing John "into the abyss" to make him his successor as the Ten Commandments Killer, as to enforce John to carry out the remainder of his unfinished legacy.

Mr. March is an attractive young man in his early thirties, with a fit physique. He is very immaculate of his outward appearance, always wearing pinstripe suits in 30s style. His black hair is combed back, and he has a mustache like that of Vincent Price or Howard Hughes, with striking dark brown eyes. An interesting element of him is his strange accent, reminiscent of the Brahmin accent.

He has a distinctly sadistic personality, seemingly finding great pleasure in releasing a deadly rage onto his victims as well as having sexual intercourse with them during their murders, which occur in ways quite theatrical. He states that he was strongly influenced by his father, a fervently religious man, who sparked in him a profound aversion to the Christian values. He murders, in part, so as to wage a personal battle against God, nihilistically speaking.

Despite this, he is also quite charming, finding joy in the company of the pupils he taught to be notorious serial killers during their times alive (i.e. Aileen Wuornos, Jeffrey Dahmer) and taking great pride in their successes. During the events of Devil's Night, when his former colleagues raise their glasses to him in salutation, he is deeply gratified and brought to tears, stating that he could not be happier that their homicides will forever be ingrained in history and pop culture. Among them, he shows a high opinion of John, describing him as having a "once in a generation rage" that enabled him to complete James's unfinished work as the Ten Commandments Killer - an act with which none of James's other proteges were capable.

When Tristan Duffy came to the hotel, he found himself on a floor and heard jazz music playing, leading him to 's room. He stumbled upon some of March's jewellery and cocaine, which he tried to steal it, until March appeared. After a talk, Miss Evers enters the room with a girl who was prostituting herself in the lobby. March offers Tristan a gun and insists he take her last breath, but ends up killing the woman himself when Tristan declines. The model rus aways, calling him crazy.

After having "googled" him, and after being turned by the Countess, Tristan found a detailed account about March, "the greatest serial killer that's ever lived", and has since becomes a fan upon reading it. March appears and introduces his new fan to his "Black Closet", a sliding wall that leads into a small space with a big spike. There are other such places in the hotel, which James wants Tristan to re-open. However, when Will Drake comes in with Claudia Bankson talking about his plans to tear out the entire floor and make it his atelier, March and Miss Evers muse over where they are going to live once the floor is gutted and renovated. March makes it clear that Will is not to touch any of the rooms, and Tristan says he'll take care of it.

Verses

tba

#American Horror Story #American Horror Story [James Patrick March]#Male Character #non mutuals #face claim: Evan Peters

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avereas · 7 years

Text

the antonym of flower

Port Mafia Week Day 5: Childhood

summary: Nakahara Chuuya meets Dazai Osamu in freefall, and Dazai makes a proposal. word count: 2.1k

read on ao3

“Damn you.”

“What?”

“What’d you have to do that for?”

Wrong-footed, Chuuya stares at Dazai Osamu. The boy is a skinny little thing: scrawny, quite pitiful. His hair is a wind-blown mess. He looks like he makes a fruitless habit of fighting monsters much larger than himself.

Or something like that, anyway.

“I was just trying to—“ Chuuya trails off.

“Just trying to what?” Dazai Osamu scowls at him. There’s a flicker of something ugly in his uncovered eye, wide and dark against his white face. He wears an armour of bandages, as though the tape is binding together the remnants of a shattered doll. Up close, this is all rather unsettling.

Chuuya has never seen anything quite like him, before.

Chuuya has never felt anything quite like this, either: pulverised, drained, like the vestiges of wetness wrung from a used towel. He lets himself slump against the concrete wall of the alleyway, the night air cold as it threads through the sweat in his hair. The lullaby of Yokohama traffic lures him to the threshold of sleep. He pulls his coat tightly around himself.

“Hey, gingerhead, I’m talking to you.”

“Whatever. I don’t care what you do.” The awareness of pain hits Chuuya like the drop into freefall. He groans and lets his head fall back; Dazai Osamu’s hand hovers in the air and does not follow. Chuuya realises that Dazai Osamu had been, for some reason, touching his face. A grotesque feeling is spreading from the phantom sensation of warmth, crawling through his body like poisoned honey. He feels sick. He feels empty. Nevertheless: “Next time you should throw yourself into the sea, instead. No one will be forced to see your smashed-up corpse then.”

A rustle of clothing, and then silence. Suspiciously, Chuuya cracks open an eye.

Dazai Osamu’s face hovers above his own, and he’s close enough that strands of his dark hair tickle Chuuya’s cheek. Chuuya tenses.

“That’s a great idea!” Dazai Osamu suddenly seems unduly excited. “If I jump from a cliff, do you think the impact of hitting the water would be enough to kill me, or would that only make me unconscious until I eventually drown?”

“Ugh.” Chuuya closes his eye and turns away. “What the fuck. Go away already.”

“Sorry, no can do! You know, I just wanted to kill myself. I didn’t expect some idiot to come jumping after me. But still, you gave me such a useful tip! Of course, at the least, I’ll have to see you home safely. That’s fair, right?”

No, Chuuya means to say, it’s this time of the year, I don’t want to deal with Ane-san now, but the abject exhaustion steals the syllables from his mind. He opens his mouth anyway.

Before he remembers verbalising anything, though, arms close around him. The incongruous warmth is suddenly very welcoming.

…

Sunlight presses insistently into his eyelids, and reluctantly, he draws himself from oblivion. He stares at his surroundings.

A white-washed room: bare, minimally furnished with a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a double bed. He finds himself in the latter, bundled between white sheets. The open blinds of the single window paint stripes on the opposite wall; it is the only disruption to the spartan economy of the place. Gingerly, Chuuya pushes himself out from the covers.

There is the thump of fallen fabric, and he turns in surprise to see his outerwear and gloves fanned out onto the floorboards. He picks them up from their folded arrangement and idly shrugs on his coat, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar shirt that he finds himself wearing. Then, brazenly, he continues to the drawers.

One by one, he silently pulls them out: folded underclothes, coiled belts, boxes of cufflinks, rolled-up socks. Unopened packets of bandages fill an entire compartment, neatly stacked. He moves onto the wardrobe and finds it much the same: suit jackets, dress shirts, trousers are draped on hangers equidistant from each other. A small rack displays a selection of identical black ties. Altogether, a colourless rainbow; immaculate, as though from a catalogue.

Chuuya stands back from the furniture and stares at them for a while.

He finds Dazai Osamu sprawled on the floor in what appears to be the main living space of the residence, paper maps spread out all about him. He looks up as soon as Chuuya steps out from the bedroom.

“What is this place?”

“Well, you see, Chuuya,” Dazai says, drawing out his name in tuneless song. Chuuya stiffens at the assumed familiarity. “Last night, I didn’t particularly want to deal with Kouyou-nee-san and her whole mother duck act. So I took you to my apartment instead! You can make your explanations to her yourself.”

Chuuya stares at him for a moment, before the rage flashes up his spine, red-hot. “Make my explanations? You say that like I wasn’t there trying to save your stupid ass from becoming dead human pancake. She’s going to be pissed as hell that I didn’t go home at all last night." He pauses to take a breath. "What did you do to me, anyway?”

Dazai’s beam doesn’t waver, even as he extracts Chuuya’s mobile phone from his pocket and waves it around. “You do have a couple of missed calls.”

Chuuya scowls. “You even had the fucking nerve to go through my stuff. Give it back.”

Dazai shrugs and throws it at him.

Five missed calls and seven text messages. In spite of the anger that he’s sure to find in them, Chuuya swallows at Kouyou’s evident concern. He tries to draft up the optimum responses to her questions, but there is only really one thing he could say: I saw Dazai Osamu jumping from the top of headquarters, but I don’t know why I jumped after him.

Put like that, there is no conceivable way he could escape Kouyou’s wrath.

“If it’s any consolation, yesterday was a particularly difficult anniversary for your ane-san. That’s probably why she was especially worried.” Chuuya glances at Dazai, but Dazai has returned to his diligent study of his papers. “She’ll be feeling a little silly now, so she’ll go easy on you when you— when you get home.”

“How do you know that?”

Dazai looks up at him and smiles. The light reflects off his dark eyes, like a cat’s.

Chuuya grits his teeth and growls, “What do you know about her that I don’t?” but Dazai simply swings himself upwards and and pulls his arms into a stretch. Chuuya notices a brown-streaked shirt crumpled on the arm of the couch, and irritation wars with curiosity until he gives in.

“Got into a fight?” Chuuya nods at the garment.

“Oh. That’s…” Dazai is staring at him a little oddly. “That’s not mine.”

“It sure looks like one of your boring shirts.” Too late, Chuuya wonders if that gives away his snooping in the closet. Oh, well. He wanders closer and drops down on the other end of the couch.

“It’s not my blood.” Dazai picks it up gingerly between two fingers. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“What kind of question is that? I only used my ability to save a suicidal maniac and now I feel like I’ve been hit by a car.”

Dazai’s eyes are keen. “Using your ability feels like that?”

Chuuya scowls. “No. It’s never been like this before. It feels even worse than when Ane-san pushes me really hard during training.”

“Training?” Dazai murmurs. “And how is that going?”

"It's going fine!"

Dazai smiles faintly, a gesture appearing to be borne more of habit than of emotion. “That badly, huh...” he murmurs, and serenely ignores Chuuya’s aggrieved “I didn’t say that!”

Dazai’s stare is uncanny as he absently balls up the shirt. He hums in acknowledgement and glances away, gaze blank even as his eyes skim the maps on the ground.

Curiosity wins again, so Chuuya asks, “Were you working on something for Mori-san?”

“Hm?” Dazai’s gaze sharpens and he finally seems to notice the maps around him. His lips curve down in sudden glumness. “Oh, no. I was just checking out some suicide destinations, you know. Turns out that there aren’t really any cliffs nearby. But Toujinbou does sound really cool, so I was thinking of a holiday—”

Chuuya stares at him silently.

…

The whole experience was rather bizarre. Later, Chuuya tries to forget it all.

As luck — or some other manipulative force — would have it, two months later Chuuya runs into Dazai Osamu again. He has now acquired a set of walking crutches and a stack of thick textbooks, and has commandeered the table of one of the conference rooms in the headquarters. Chuuya immediately considers turning right around and exiting, but Dazai has already looked up at the noise.

Instead, Chuuya asks, “Why the fuck are you reading about quantum mechanics?”

“I’m trialling another method of suicide.”

“Right.”

Dazai glances down again as he turns a page. “I wanted to see if it was possible to bore myself to death. But this is too painful. It’s not worth it. Suicides should be enjoyable, shouldn’t they?”

“I’m just going to go,” Chuuya says. “Goodbye, nice seeing that you haven’t offed yourself yet, I guess, whatever—”

“No, no,” Dazai cuts in. He smiles at Chuuya and in that split-second, he looks so young. “Stay. Sit down.”

“What for?”

“I want to talk to you.”

Chuuya pulls out a chair and warily takes a seat. “So talk.”

“How would you feel,” Dazai says, placing a hand underneath his chin and flipping another text-heavy page casually, “about being my partner?”

“Your partner?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Dazai flicks his eyes up at him, as though bored. “Mori-san will be the next boss. I’m the mafia’s best strategist. I can help you with your ability.”

“What.” Chuuya says this flatly. He doesn’t even know where to begin to address Dazai’s statements, each one as ludicrous as the next.

“Gravity manipulation, right?” Dazai nods at the books. “I’m afraid that the current science has yet to catch up with the specifics, but I think I have an adequate understanding of how your ability should work. I also have the ability of nullification. I can ensure that nothing like what happened to you two months ago happens again.”

Chuuya stares at him, nonchalant and aloof, lounging in the chair in front of the panorama of the Yokohama bay. He carefully tries to avoid thinking about that night two months ago, but the terror rushes to his throat as though he is watching the scene unfold in front of him now. The fall of the slight figure, as though in slow motion— the wind flapping through his coat, the bile in his mouth as his fingers missed the other’s hand. Serendipity made it so that this failing ensured his survival: if he had made contact with Dazai, For The Tainted Sorrow would have been nullified and they both would have splattered onto the streets of Yokohama. But because he missed, he had done— done something and then spent the next week recovering from whatever it was, but.

But they were both alive. He didn’t fail. Not really. Well, from his own perspective, anyway, even if Dazai's peaceful face haunted his nightmares during sleepless nights.

He says, “Choose another partner. If what you said is true, I’m sure there’s someone who’s interested.”

Dazai frowns at him. “I want you.”

“Well, I’m not fucking interested.”

Dazai stares at him in silence. After a few moments, he says, “Back then, when you jumped after me like a fool. You shouldn’t have been able to use your ability on me.”

“I didn’t use my damn ability on you,” Chuuya snaps. “I couldn’t even touch you, could I?”

Dazai smiles. “So how did you do it?”

Chuuya looks away, into the glare of the afternoon sun. “I don’t know.”

Dazai is still staring at him. After a moment, he says, “This is my hypothesis. For The Tainted Sorrow is a gravity manipulation ability. But there is another form of your ability which is far stronger and exceedingly more dangerous. If we can figure out how you can use that, you’ll be an unstoppable force.”

Chuuya blanches, half at the suggestion, half at the distinctly-remembered pain. “Do you even hear yourself? First you say that you’ll make sure that nothing like that happens again. Then you say that you want to figure out how it works.”

The smile has entirely faded from Dazai’s face. Now he just looks back at him, expression grim and betraying nothing.

Finally, Chuuya says, “Just tell me why you did it.”

Dazai Osamu had the grace not to pretend at ignorance, but Chuuya knew that the tilt of his lips promised nothing but bullshit. “The lights were really pretty that night,” is what Dazai says. “I was just thinking that I liked this city a lot.”

#portmafiaweek #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku #fic

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