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nuvoloso · 1 year

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What's Happening?

Oikawa x m!reader (he/him/his)

A blind date? Why the hell not. Y/n is a wing spiker that plays city volleyball, not for the school, and Iwaizumi decides to play matchmaker.

The ~~ means a change in view or time.

Word Count: 4465

Why the hell is Iwaizumi so insistent on this? Y/n thought, as the volleyball player had begun berating him about going out with one of his friends. Iwa had been doing his damn best to get y/n to agree to a blind date with someone on the volleyball team, but he'd seen the guys on that team and nobody had really piqued his interest. Yet, here he was, again, for what felt like the thirtieth time.

"Just say you will, just go out to dinner or a movie or something simple. I've just got a feeling you'll like him, plus you've got nothing to lose. Nobody approaches you anyway." Y/n scoffed, giving Iwa a good shove in the process. He only laughed, "Oh what, you're mad I won't lie to you?"

"I'm mad you said that so loudly, we're in the middle of the hallway." Y/n complained, Iwa only rolling his eyes.

"Well if you'd just accept my invitation I wouldn't have to gloat about your terminal loneliness." Y/n couldn't even think of a witty response to match the absolute destruction Iwa brought with every word he spoke. "So, you're in?" He asked, y/n finally giving up and accepting his proposition.

Iwa grinned triumphantly, and nearly turned to leave, but y/n grabbed his arm, and stuck a finger in his face, "But I swear to god, if this goes south I will break every single one of your fingers so you'll never get to play volleyball ever again." Iwa let out a long whistle at y/n's threat, obviously not very feeling very threatened by it.

"I wouldn't be trying so hard if I didn't think it'd be successful. Just give him a chance, his first impressions aren't the best." Fantastic. "I'll send you details when I confirm with him, ok? Does after practice tonight work for you?" Reluctantly, y/n nodded and let Iwa go. They parted ways and headed towards their classrooms then, y/n's anxiety skyrocketing at the thought of going on a date with someone he didn't even remotely know.

He tried to relax during classes, telling himself over and over that it would be ok because Iwa must be close friends with whoever it was, but the pit in his stomach just kept growing. What if he actually liked whoever it was, but it wasn't mutual? What if he couldn't make conversation and it was just super awkward the whole time? A swarm of 'what ifs' crowded his mind and he didn't get much work done. When the day finally ended, he about booked it out of the classroom, hoping that getting to his practice would help take his mind off things.

In his rush, he ran straight into the back of someone just barely taller than him who'd randomly stopped in the middle of the walkway.

"Shit, sorry. Are you ok?" Y/n asked the stranger, helping him pick up a handful of flyers he had dropped at the collision. He looked to be around the same age as y/n, messy brown hair and gentle features, he looked incredible. There wasn't a single mark on his fair skin, and even though his hair looked untamed, it seemed to fall exactly where the stranger willed it to. He also had a pretty lean build, y/n thought he'd probably be really good at volleyball if he didn't already play it.

The stranger flashed him a smile, "I'm alright, I shouldn't have stopped like that, sorry. Thanks for the help though, you can keep one of them if you'd like." Y/n looked down at the papers he was helping pick up and noticed they were flyers for the volleyball club's match this weekend against Shiratorizawa.

"Are you on the club team here?" Y/n asked, though he felt it was a stupid question given that he was promoting it by hanging up these flyers.

The stranger took no offense to his question though, and nodded. "I'm actually the captain, and the main setter."

"Uh, wow, I'm sorry I'm taking up your time, I'm sure you're busy." He shrugged, the two of them soon standing after having gathered all the loose flyers. "If you want," He offered, "I could take some of the flyers and hand them out to guys on my team, I'm sure they'd like to watch." The captain gave him a slightly confused look, but happily handed him a small stack of the papers.

They started walking towards the main entrance of the school and continued talking about volleyball, the captain immensely interested in y/n's team.

"So you play on a team composed of people from all around Miyagi, not one neighborhood or school in particular? And its aged 16-24?" Y/n nodded in response to each of his questions. "That sounds like it could be a lot of fun, but who do you play against? How do you guys practice if everybody's spread out?"

He explained it the best he could, their system was slightly more complex than the school's. "Those of us that live close to each other practice everyday, and once a week we choose somewhere in Miyagi to meet up and practice as a group. There are other groups in Miyagi that we play against, and some from other prefectures too. City league sports are actually pretty popular, but a lot of people don't know they exist because they're wrapped up in their school's club."

They kept going back and forth until they'd reached the separation point, the stranger headed over to the gyms, and y/n headed out onto the sidewalk to get to his own court.

"Before we go our separate ways, what's your name? I'd like to join one of your practices sometime if that's ok." Y/n was honestly elated to hear that from the captain. Sure Iwa had told him all about how great their team was, and even a little about this captain, but y/n really wanted to see it for himself.

"You can just call me y/n, I'm in class 3-B. What about you?" He replied, extending his hand.

"Oikawa, Tōru." He stated, firmly shaking y/n's hand. "I'm in 3-A, It's nice to meet you y/n, I look forward to playing with you sometime." Oikawa left, off to his gym, and y/n off to his court. He was contemplating texting Iwa to cancel his blind date, not wanting to go out with someone on Oikawa's team after having just met him. He'd rather just go out with the captain, but with the way he looked? There was no way he didn't have a girlfriend or something already.

Y/n tried to keep his mind off the date and the captain, he just wanted to play his game without any distractions.

He was unsuccessful. He was a wing spiker for his team, and he missed well over half of the sets he got. Luckily it was just a regular practice, not the full group one, that was in a few days still. He repeatedly apologized to his teammates, but they didn't hold it against him.

"You seem pretty lost today, what's going on?" His setter asked, while everyone was getting some water.

Y/n sighed, looking up at the sky and taking in the clouds. He loved that they practiced outside, it was so much nicer than being stuck in a gym. "A friend of mine who's on the volleyball team at school has been begging to set me up on a blind date with someone on his team, and I finally agreed to it. It'll be just after we're both done today."

"That sounds like fun! Why aren't you more excited?" Y/n shrugged,

"I met the captain of their team today, and he's everything I could want, but there's no way someone like him is single. I just think it'll be weird if I go out with someone on his team while we just met, I don't know." He mumbled, but his teammates understood his unease about the situation.

One of the older guys on their team, he'd just turned 21, clapped him on the back. "You never know, maybe he's the one you got set up with!" Y/n hadn't even thought about that, Iwa did talk about that captain pretty often...But there was still no way he was single, surely. "Just don't think about it to hard, it's always been your downfall. Live in the moment, y/n!" He weakly smiled at his teammates, thanking them for the confidence boosters.

They got back to their practice shortly after, and y/n's tact started returning.

About an hour and half later his practice had come to an end, and he finally got to start freaking about his blind date. When he got home, he destroyed his closet looking for something to wear, not loving any of his options. He stared at his clothes for several minutes before he realized they weren't going to change by him staring at them. He opted to take a shower and come back, hoping he'd maybe get an idea along the way.

When he'd finished, he threw on a pair of sweats and went back to his room, where he was surprised to find someone sifting through his clothing pile.

"Iwa?" He questioned, guessing that it was his friend by the back of his head. The spiky hair wasn't hard to miss, and soon the intruder had turned around and waved to him.

"Your sister let me in, I figured you'd need help finding an outfit." Y/n rolled his eyes, but didn't get in the way, secretly grateful for the help. "You should wear this, you're going to dinner so it's better to be like business casual. I know that's what he's going for..." Iwa mumbled, now kicking through Y/n's shoes until he found something he liked. Y/n took the outfit from his hands so he could more thoroughly dig through all of his belongings.

"I'll go put this on I guess...?" Iwa was too captivated by his current task to say anything, so y/n just disappeared back into the bathroom to change. He'd picked out a black button down that y/n had forgotten he owned, and a pair of pleated off-white slacks. When he'd assembled it, he actually quite liked it, albeit a bit surprised by Iwa's ability to style an outfit.

He went back to the room, Iwa complimenting him on how it looked. "Now, just add some accessories and keep a few buttons undone and you'll be ready. I set shoes by the door for you, so let's go." Y/n nodded, quickly putting on a few of his favorite rings and a small silver chain, leaving a few of the buttons on his shirt undone like Iwa had told him.

Iwa lead him out the door and they walked for a few blocks, y/n soon knowing where they were going. He'd seen the restaurant a few times, not actually having gotten a chance to try it yet. Iwa sent him off on his own once they were across the street from the restaurant.

"Good luck! Don't take it too seriously, have some fun ok?" He vigorously shook y/n's shoulders before pushing him towards the crosswalk. Y/n gave him a final wave, and made his way to the restaurant.

Oikawa checked his watch, he was pretty early. He didn't mind though, he'd be able to get a good table and get some time to figure out how he wanted to play tonight. He'd agreed to the blind date because it was Iwa suggesting it, he knew that despite the dick he was, Iwa wouldn't set him up with someone he wouldn't at least somewhat like. After earlier though, he didn't really want to do this. Bumping into y/n was the highlight of his day, he'd immediately found the guy more than attractive. He acted distant though, as if he didn't want to get close to Tōru for some reason, but he couldn't be sure, they'd just met.

You're not here for him though, focus. As much as he wanted the evening to already be over, he would entertain his date and ensure they both had a nice enough time. He'd hate for it to be a total waste of time and money so he told himself he'd stick it through no matter what.

Several minutes passed, and it was nearly the agreed upon time now, Oikawa becoming slightly nervous he'd be stood up even though they didn't know each other.

"Eh? Oikawa? What're you doing here?" He'd been looking at the menu, but the familiar voice jarred him. He looked over, and noticed the waitress was gesturing for him to sit, and saying she'd be back to take our orders in a few minutes.

"Y/n! I'm, uh-my friend set me up on a blind date, what a coincidence seeing you here. You must be meeting your boyfr- I mean your partner or something. You look great!" Oikawa felt his face heating up, he shouldn't have just assumed that y/n was queer, and now he'd made things weird, awesome.

Y/n didn't seem phased by his words though, in fact he started laughing. "That damn Hajime." The realization soon settled on Oikawa, y/n was his blind date. Here he'd been, hoping that it would happen, and he had gotten exactly what he'd wanted.

"Well, it's good to see you again, so soon!" Y/n smiled, "What're the odds?" Oikawa chucked, relieved y/n hadn't reacted strangely to his mumblings before. Y/n opened his menu, sifting through the options, but couldn't seem to pick one out.

"Can I recommend something?" Oikawa asked.

Y/n looked up at him and immediately closed his menu, setting his gaze on Oikawa, lightly laughing as he accepted his invitation. "God please, there's so much to chose from I can barely think." Oikawa giggled and pointed out a few options that had caught his eye, but he noticed that y/n wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying. He just kept his eyes on Oikawa while he spoke, it felt like he was more focused on his movements than what he was actually saying.

Oikawa quieted when the waitress came back and asked for their orders, y/n gesturing for him to go first. "I'll have a bowl of Nabeyaki Udon, please." She smiled at him, and moved her focus to y/n.

"I'll have the same, thank you." She nodded, and left the two once again.

"Not very creative, y/n." He commented, y/n quickly rolling his eyes.

"I couldn't decide! If it's good enough for you to eat, I'm sure it'll be more than fine for me too." Y/n nervously laughed, Oikawa noticing him shifting in his seat and playing with his hands. He was nervous. Oikawa couldn't decide whether he wanted to say to say something or not, he didn't want to make things worse by any means but he didn't want y/n to be that nervous to be on a date with him.

He pursed his lips for a moment, then did his best to offer the nervous a kind smile. "Why're you so shaken up? Didn't want it to be me?" He joked, hoping y/n would pick up on the tone in his voice.

Thankfully, it seemed like he had. "No, no, I'm glad it's you! I mean, it's not a bad thing that it's you. It's actually kind of nice since we already met." He rambled, but the nervous energy that surrounded him seemed to fade. "I just, I dunno, I couldn't imagine that you could possibly be...single, I guess." He said, Oikawa's eyebrows raising in surprise. "No offense! It's just that you're so, charismatic and uh, yeah you're- fuck." He buried his head in his hands, Oikawa chuckling at his state.

"It's ok, maybe I was just waiting for you to come along..." He smirked, y/n's head moving from his hands onto the table, the tips of his ears having turned pink. "Aw, blushing for me? I'm honored!" Y/n couldn't even attempt to look at Oikawa.

"Will you shut up for a few minutes so I can fucking relax?!" Oikawa laughed, and reached his arms out to rest his hands on y/n's.

"No." When y/n felt Oikawa's hands on his own, he immediately looked up at him. He didn't try to move his hands out from under Tōru's, which he was grateful for, but he couldn't seem to string any words together.

The waitress saved him, having reappeared at their table with the food they'd ordered. Oikawa retracted his hands from y/n's as his and the other's bowls were placed in front of them. They both thanked her and started digging into their food. Things were quiet for several minutes, neither really wanting to attempt conversation while they ate, but Tōru could tell the tension between them had largely dissipated.

After they'd eaten, they made small talk, about hobbies, favorite colors, all the usual. Eventually, the check came to them and Oikawa managed to pay for everything, much to y/n's dismay. They'd argued as much as they could've until the waitress had shown up again and Oikawa forced the bill out of y/n's hands.

"I'll pay next time, it's only fair." Y/n said as they were leaving the restaurant.

"Next time? Another date, you mean?" He questioned, hoping to see y/n change colors again. This time though, y/n put a sliver of confidence in himself and his response.

"Obviously, you couldn't keep your eyes or your hands to yourself. Of course there'd be another date." The way he raised an eyebrow at Oikawa reminded him a bit of himself, but he loved that y/n could dish it back to him. "Anyway," he ventured, "Can I walk you home? Unless you wanted to do something else."

Truthfully, Tōru didn't want the night to end. He longed to come up with activity after activity so he could stay with y/n, he had a calming presence which helped ease Tōru's ever-crowded mind. He was always thinking about volleyball and school, always about how he could be improving or what he'd been doing wrong. But tonight - tonight he hadn't thought about anything except for y/n, making him laugh or blush, or just listening to what he had to say.

"Hey, are you there? Did I scare you or something?" He looked up, now realizing he'd totally spaced out and didn't even know for how long.

He blinked a few times, and looked around. Apparently they'd ended up walking to some park he didn't immediately recognize. "Sorry, I just got distracted, my bad. Also, where are we?" Y/n lightly laughed and looked around, apparently also not having realized they'd kept walking directionless.

"This, oh this is the park where I practice! I guess I came here out of habit, the court we use is over there." He pointed over to where a net was set up and there was a rectangle of concrete with painted lines. "So, uh, did you want me to walk you home? Or...?" Ah right his question from earlier. Let's try not to forget to answer it this time.

"Well, I don't have plans for the rest of the evening, and it's not super late yet... But if you do, then we can totally-"

"I don't." Y/n interrupted, his clam gaze making Oikawa a bit anxious. Ever since they left the restaurant, the vibes had completely switched, Oikawa was forgetting who he was and what was going on while y/n flirted and stayed collected. "I've still got my keys, I could grab a ball if you want to hit a few." Finally, something Tōru understood. If there was one thing he couldn't look bad doing, it was volleyball.

"If you insist." He replied. "Try not to get too intimidated though, I'm one of the best y'know." Again, y/n didn't falter at his attempt to fluster him.

"But you haven't made it to nationals like Miya has, so why should I be scared?" MIYA? Y/n knew someone who played at the national level? Now he wasn't so sure about what he'd said. Of course he knew he was a fantastic setter, one of the best in his own opinion, but he'd not played against or with someone who was a regular at nationals.

At an attempt to collect himself, he waved off y/n's comment. "So what? Just because I haven't made it to nationals yet doesn't mean I'm not the best setter out there."

"I guess we'll just have to see." Y/n shot back, before jogging over to the storage shed near the court. He dug out a volleyball and tossed it to Oikawa, who gently received it without a second thought.

"You said you're wing spiker, right?" He asked, y/n nodded. "What kind of set do you like?" This time, y/n only shrugged.

"You'll just have to figure it out, 'best setter out there'." He sneered, walking onto the concrete platform and towards the right side. Oikawa scoffed and went off towards the left. I'll find out, on the first one. He told himself, though it wasn't the most realistic, but he always like a challenge.

Oikawa set, and y/n spiked over and over again, Oikawa priding himself on figuring out what y/n liked within his first (but likely his second or third) set. They only stopped when it had gotten too dark out to see very clearly over the net, both of them having a slight sweat. As y/n put the ball back, Oikawa asked him more about how he knew the person from nationals, it bothered him that y/n might have had a setter that he thought was better.

"Oh, Miya? God I don't even remember how we met, I think he plays for a city team in his spare time." Y/n said, "Yeah, we met at a tournament. His team beat us, but only barely, we did five sets and it was down to the last, the score I think was 20-22 in the end." Oikawa whistled, he knew how exhausting a game like that could be. "Anyway, after we played against each other, he approached me and almost begged me to let him set for me." He laughed to himself, but Oikawa's mind was everywhere. "We played a little after that game and became good friends, he always updates me on his tournaments and games."

Oikawa's fatal flaw was that he had a massive god-complex, and right now it was definitely being complex. His mind was about to take a total downward turn when y/n punched his shoulder.

"Don't look like that, you idiot." Y/n sneered.

"What? Look like what?" He demanded.

"Don't get jealous. Don't get upset just because I know some great setter, I can't even begin to compare you two and you've never even met him. Don't get your tits in a twist so quickly, now come on it's dark, we're both tired, and it's obviously past your bedtime." Tōru's mind went blank, even if he could think up a response, there'd be now way he'd bring himself to say it. He hadn't been put in his place like that before, sure Iwa gave him reality checks every now and then, but nobody could read him like that.

Y/n started walking, but turned to face Tōru and held out his hand, waiting for him to take it. He didn't say anything, just waved his hand around and stared at Tōru until he finally took it. Y/n's hand was warm, and strong, just like a spiker's should be.

"Where's your house?" Y/n asked him, his face void of any snark or ego that it had only moments earlier.

"It's up by the school, two streets north." Y/n nodded and confidently lead him in the general direction. "How are you so calm all of a sudden?" He found himself asking, the events of their date confusing him.

Y/n chuckled as he looked to the sky. "After you ripped the bill out of my hands at that restaurant, I knew you weren't as serious or intimidating as I had thought you were when I first met you. Our conversations and getting to hit your sets after we ate was so much more relaxed, I just felt like I could be myself. I don't like formal situations like sit down dinners at fancy restaurants, I didn't even know what to wear, Iwa picked this out."

Hearing that Hajime had picked out what y/n was wearing made Tōru feel better, he thought he was a total disaster today but he hadn't been alone. "I thought this was going to be easy, but you just keep making me forget how to think." He lightly squeezed Tōru's hand at the comment,

"That's probably a good thing, isn't it? You probably think way to much." He sighed,

"You're definitely right. Guess I'm extremely lucky for having you physically run into me today."

Y/n smiled, "You're so welcome."

They approached Oikawa's neighborhood, and he directed y/n to his house, y/n only letting go of Oikawa's hand when they got to his front steps. "Thanks, for tonight. It was fun, I'm looking forward to next time." Y/n said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

"Me too, even though I'll probably see you again tomorrow, right?" Y/n's face dropped, he'd totally forgotten they went to school together.

Thoroughly embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to laugh it off. "Eh, true- our classes are neighbors." He took a deep breath and faced Tōru, "Well, I'll see you later. Have a good night, Oikawa." He barely got a chance to reply before y/n had turned around to leave, so he grabbed the shoulder closest to him, and turned the boy to face him again.

"What, no goodbye kiss? We're basically dating now right?" Y/n turned nearly purple at the comment, definitely not having expected it. He tried stuttering out some kind of response, so Oikawa put him out of his misery and tugged the gent towards him.

He could feel y/n's anxiety melt away as they kissed, his arms wrapping around Tōru's waist, his in return folding around y/n's neck. Y/n couldn't believe what was happening, but he was beyond happy that it was.

#seijoh #oneshot #oikawa x male reader #fluff #haikyuu #oikawa tōru #imagine #haikyuu x male reader #haikyu imagines #aoba johsai #oikawatooru #haikyu oneshots #Iwaizumi hajime #volleyball #malereader #x male reader

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the-werdna · 1 month

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Title: Robcina Week Day 3 - Wedding

Description: After a long time as a couple, Robin and Lucina's wedding is finally here. But can Robin make it to the moment without losing his nerve?

Words: 1113

Robin paced nervously. He rechecked the buttons on his suit. He'd done this many times already, several in fact, in just the past few minutes. He knew it was stupid, but he had to do something that at least felt useful. Or else he may die of the complete collapse of his nerve.

Today was quite possibly the most terrifying day of his life. An exciting, wonderful day to be certain, but a terrifying one nonetheless. In just a few moments he would go out there and marry the most wonderful and beautiful woman he'd ever known his entire life that he could remember.

Granted, the "life he could remember" capped out at about just over three years at this point, but the sentiment was there.

Robin stopped pacing, allowing himself to slump down onto a nearby chair as he attempted to relax. He looked down at his shaking hand, felt the butterflies in his stomach, and couldn't help but laugh softly at it. In a way this still hadn't sunk in, for all his nerves it still didn't feel quite real. He was actually getting married.

There had been so many weddings following the Plegian War. Chrom's and Sumia's had been the first and by far the biggest, one which he had served as best man. Then came the following weddings, as one by one what seemed like nearly every one of his friends got married as well. Until, at last, he was one of the few left single, alone, and with no prospects for love. No, not without "love" so to speak, as he loved all of his friends dearly, but rather love in the romantic sense. In truth, he'd given up hope of ever finding someone who'd love him that way: someone with whom he could spend the rest of his life.

Then Lucina entered his life. Formally, for she'd already been briefly in and out of it a few times as "Marth". He'd already fallen for her by that point in truth, from the moment he'd seen her unmasked he'd been smitten with her. But so brief had their interactions been, and with so long passing between meetings, he hadn't really put much hope in anything coming of that initial attraction. Then he met her properly, learned who she was, and… completely wrote off any hope of them being together. How could he not? She was from another time and the daughter of his best friend. A relationship would be too complicated, too much baggage. And besides, it wasn't like there had been a chance she'd felt the same way.

Yet despite every rational part of him urging him not to, he couldn't stay away. He found himself spending more and more time with her, first as comrades, then friends, and then…

He smiled, blushing as he remembered the day in that field as he offered her the flowers he'd gathered for her. Of his confession, and against all hope those feelings are reciprocated. One moment among many that followed that he knew he'd always treasure for as long as he lived.

His initial fears hadn't been unfounded. The difficulties and complexities for them from her being Chrom's daughter and those from their differing times had certainly been hurdles to overcome. Enough that many times he'd almost questioned their relationship. Almost. For, in the end, they both knew it was worth the struggles. For there was truly no other person they'd rather spend their lives with.

Behind him the door opened, Chrom entered the room. He moved up alongside Robin, grinning as he did so. "Are you ready?" he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Robin answered. Speaking of baggage, he mused, pausing a moment to consider it before asking half in jest, "How about you? Ready to be the best man at your daughter's wedding?"

Chrom opened his mouth. Then shut it again. Then opened it, and shut it again. Only on the third attempt did he finally manage to form words. "I've been trying to not think about that part, you dastard. Please don't remind me, before I decide to call this whole thing off."

"You'd never dare," Robin countered. He laughed, more to try to clear the butterflies in his belly. "Come on, let's head in"

Heading out into the courtyard, Robin blinked against the sunlight streaming in overhead. In rows of chairs sat every one of his and Lucina's friends and loved ones, all gathered there to witness the wedding. And, in the case of Morgan, who turned around in her chair to wave at him, family. It really wasn't every day that your time-traveling daughter was there to attend her parents' wedding.

Taking the stand at the end of the aisle where Libra already stood to officiate over the ceremony, Robin turned and waited. The few moments that passed dragged on for what felt like an eternity as he waited and strewed in her nerves.

Then Lucina entered and the sight of her took his breath away. It was the first time he'd seen her wearing her wedding gown, all white with a blue sash the same color of her hair and eyes. She wore a circlet of azure and white flowers, while the bouquet in her hands was of the very same type as those he had picked for her that time before. It always went back to that moment, for it was there that their lives were truly bound together. In a way, today was just a reaffirming of those bonds.

Her mother, Sumia, walked her up the aisle, taking their places across from him. Robin found himself entranced as he stared into Lucina's joy-filled eyes already wet with tears of that very emotion. So transfixed was he by her beauty that he nearly missed it when Libra began to read them their vows, causing Robin to fumble over the first few lines he was promoted to confirm.

Lucina, tears of happiness now streaming down her cheeks, smiling, affirmed her own vows. She smiled as she spoke, touching Robin's heart as he looked upon it. That smile was something he wanted to protect and preserve for as long as he lived, to grant her the joy and happiness so deprived of her in Lucina's own time.

Then, with one final "I do" from each of them, they slipped their wedding bands on each other's fingers before meeting in a long, passionate kiss

From that moment onwards, their bond would remain for as long as they both lived. In the end, they had both found the one they'd spend the rest of their lives with.

#robin x lucina #robcina #robcina week

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camaro-and-smokes · 11 months

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Pretty (wo)man

Chapter 6: Sundeck

Tags for this chapter: flirting, causing general mayhem. See rating, warnings and tags for the whole fic on AO3. General warning: This work as a whole includes themes related to and mentions of prostitution, sex work, and sexual abuse. I will add tags with every new chapter and notes when anything particularly nasty is being depicted, but if this kind of content isn't your cup of tea to begin with, please move on. Now, consider yourself warned. Please, proceed.

Moodboard by the wonderful @a-redharlequin

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Summary: Of course, the only free spot was in the bow, in front of every single deck chair the ship probably had. Billy knew that after last night - his and Steve’s play hadn’t definitely gone unnoticed but from the blind and deaf - all attention would be on him and what he would do.

:::::::::

Steve woke up to someone snuggling to his side and wrapping their arm around him. Their hair tickled his nose annoyingly, and his first thought was that it was some hookup who'd overstayed their welcome. He was almost telling them to fuck off, when he opened his eyes.

The world in front of him was made of golden curls, accompanied by warm, steady breaths on his skin. He listened to other sounds around him, and while there were none, there was a very slight tremor on the bed. He looked up into the ceiling, and when he saw the sunlight glittering in it, he remembered where he was.

On a ship - with Sweetie. William. William Harcove.

Steve wondered briefly if it was William's actual name. He had been adamant in telling nothing of his real identity, but for some reason it felt to Steve that the surname had come out too fast to be something entirely made up on the spot. And something in how William had said it with confidence and familiarity, felt like it came out not practiced but something that was so true that it didn't require thinking. The thought of knowing something real, a fact that was essentially a part of who William was, made Steve feel that he was an inch closer to him than what he was right now. Reaching beneath the skin and into the essence of someone. To something he so desperately wanted to know.

But he also knew that stupid daydreams like that, thinking that Sweetie would just like that use his own real name with him, were naive. Maybe he just used it whenever he needed a name and had said it enough many times that it had become a second nature.

It didn't matter. Because William was here, snuggling to his side in his sleep. Steve wanted to never let go of this moment. He smiled to himself and a warm feeling spread from his chest throughout his body.

William was laying on Steve’s arm, so he pulled it out and wrapped it around his shoulder instead, pulling him closer to a hug. William let out a small annoyed noise, but then he settled his head onto the dip between Steve's pec and shoulder, and let out a sigh.

Steve moved the loose curls away from William's face to see it better. He examined it as well as he could from his angle. William's lashes were the longest Steve had ever seen on anyone. There were a lot of them, just like there were freckles on his nose. The long curls were a tangled mess that defied Steve's tries to keep them away from William's face. Steve touched the curls, keeping his hand far from William's skin to not to disturb his sleep, wrapping a soft strand loosely around his finger.

This had to be heaven for there was an angel in his bed.

He'd been listening to William breathing for who knows how long, when his own stomach reminded him by rumbling that he hadn't yet had breakfast.

When it kept growling, William finally took a deep breath and rubbed his stubbled cheek on Steve's chest. “Hungry?” he asked with a deep morning voice. Steve let out a chuckle. “Yeah. Someone fell asleep on me like a cat and I didn't have the heart to disturb them. I’ve been starving here for who knows how long.” “Oh, well, sorry,” William said with lilt and yawned. “You don't sound sorry.” “You make a comfy pillow. Steady breathing, laying on your back the whole night." William turned his head to look at Steve with a wide smile that trapped his tongue between his teeth. "A full-body pillow to wrap myself around." "I would be honored to sleep you wrapped around me the whole night." "Well, I did. You just were sleeping most of the time." "I always miss all the fun stuff," Steve said mock-offended, making William snort.

They got up and went to the main lounge where the breakfast was served. "Oh god, this is so good," Billy said when he took a bite of the warm croissant on his plate. He closed his eyes to immerse himself in the buttery heaven. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Steve looking at him amused, so he smiled. "Hey, this is a treat. I mean," he started, curling a strand of his hair around his finger, fluttering his lashes like a bimbo. "I don't usually eat this many carbs first thing in the morning." Steve let out a bright laugh. Billy joined the laughter. Making a client laugh and then pretending to like the joke was far from this. He actually liked to make Steve laugh and wanted to do it as much as possible. Dangerous. "Listen," Steve said and placed his hand on Billy's, brushing it with his thumb gently. "I have some business related things I need to go through with Charles. But you can use all the amenities on the ship while I'm busy. "Okay. Maybe I'll dig out the trunks you hoped so much I brought with me." "No naked sunbathing, alright?" Steve said pointing a finger at Billy. "I promise," Billy replied smiling.

When Billy had changed in the bathroom, he took one of the bathrobes and left Steve in the cabin, starting towards the staircase that would take him to the sundeck. He bumped into Charles Hamlin as he turned into the stairs. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t see you there.” “No, no, my bad. I was just coming to see if Steve was ready.” Billy frowned. “You weren’t going to have the meeting in your cabin?” “Yes, we were. But he’s already late, so...” “Oh, right. Our breakfast must’ve gone overtime, I didn’t know. Well, he’s in the cabin,” Billy smiled, and started to walk up the stairs. “I really liked your outfit last night,” Charles said. Billy stopped and slowly turned to look at him, stunned. It wasn’t like men didn’t compliment his looks all the time, but this man... He quickly transformed his surprise into a smile. “Thank you.” “I know what you two did at the table last night was to piss Amanda off. Don’t piss me off, though.” Billy frowned and his smile died. "Okay..." he said slowly. "I won't." He pointed up with his index finger. "I'm going to...go and leave you two to it." He didn't spend any further time wondering but turned around and got up the stairs towards the sundeck.

When he got up to the next deck he glanced down the stairs. The older man was gone, but his last words repeated in his ears. Yes, what they did was rude and getting scolded for it was deserved. But it felt as if the threat was directed at him and not at him and Steve together. He took a deep breath. “Okay, stop, you're imagining things,” he said to himself.

Once he got onto the sundeck, he had mostly forgotten the incident. Of course, the only free spot was in the bow, in front of every single deck chair the ship probably had. He knew that after last night - his and Steve’s play hadn’t definitely gone unnoticed but from the blind and deaf - all attention would be on him and what he would do. But in all honesty, he just had done what Steve asked for: made a number. So, he took off his robe and sat down to apply the sunscreen.

A woman walked to him. “What’s up, cutie?” she asked. Billy looked up and saw Heather, another one of Amanda’s friends, standing before him, looking at him over her sunglasses with a lopsided grin. He smiled and offered the sunscreen bottle to her. “Wanna help with the sunscreen?” “Oh, yes. I’d very much like to do that,” she replied and took the bottle. She opened it and when Billy turned she squeezed a generous amount of the lotion on her hand and started to rub it on his back. “I loved your dress last night. Very conservative.” “Well, I like conservative.” “I bet it was Steve’s choice, wasn’t it? You don’t really strike as someone I’d call conservative.” “And that’s a problem?” Heather laughed. “Far from it. It’s just so out of character for Steve. Well, at least the Steve I used to know. The fact that you’re a man for starters. Let alone one who wears dresses and looks damn good in one.” Billy let out a laugh. “I’m glad that someone approves.” Heather leaned closer to Billy. “Oh yeah, last night was scandalous to say the least,” she whispered amused, “I’ve never seen Amanda so worked up. She wouldn’t shut up about it,” she laughed. Billy smirked. “I can’t wait to tell Steve.”

She was quiet for a moment. “How is Steve?” “He’s fine.” “Really? Amanda breaking up with him was a tough one. I hadn’t seen Steve so broken in years. And then her getting married so quickly after that... It must’ve hurt.” Billy looked down at his hands and pursed his lips. This was exactly the kind of conversation he would’ve wanted to avoid. “I really couldn’t say anything about that. We haven’t really gone out that long and he hasn’t talked about it much.” “He invited you to come here with him. That’s long enough in my opinion.” “I guess,” Billy said and glanced over his shoulder, flashing a smile.

After a while Heather patted Billy’s back. “You’re done,” she said and gave the bottle back to Billy. When he turned around, she looked at him in the eyes. “I don’t care how you and Steve met or when. I always got along with him well and while I haven’t had the chance to really talk with him since the breakup, I consider him as a friend. He looks really happy with you, and in my opinion, far happier than what he ever was with Amanda. That’s all I care about.” Billy smiled, genuinely this time, and nodded. “Thanks. For your words,” he said and pointed his thumb behind his back, “and for the back.” “You’re welcome,” she replied. “You’re a snack,” she continued, winking, and left. Billy smiled to himself, put the bottle away and laid down on the mattress on his stomach, hands under his head.

He’d laid there for quite a while when someone walked up to him. “You have the nerve,” she spat out. Billy opened his eyes and turned his head to glance up. It was Amanda. “You come here, flaunting your all, and then you have the nerve to spoil my dinner. How dare you!” she continued. Billy leaned up to his elbows. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” ��Pfft. Sorry my ass. You’re going to keep this shit up the whole week, aren’t you?” Billy couldn’t hide his smile. “Umm, maybe you should have this conversation with Steve? Isn’t he the one you broke up with? As in told him to fuck off and then a few months later he’s invited to your wedding?” “My father invited him! I didn’t want him here in the first place. He wasn’t even supposed to know.” Billy sat up. “Do tell me, how wasn’t he supposed to know when he still does business with your dad? The guy was about to become his father-in-law. I don’t think you thought it through.” Amanda seethed. “All I want is you two to not attend any of the lunches or dinners or the wedding reception. In fact, I don’t want to see you, anywhere.” Billy let out a laugh. “Do ask if your father agrees with that sentiment. Until then,” he said, and vaguely circled his hand at himself, “feel free to enjoy all of this that I am.” “You...you...” she stuttered, flabbergasted. “It’s called bye,” Billy said, and laid back down on the mattress.

Steve witnessed the discussion between Amanda and William from the door of the sundeck. He’d wanted to get at least a glance of William in his trunks, and when Charles had gotten a phone call he couldn’t leave unanswered, Steve had wandered to the deck.

He leaned his shoulder to the doorway and when Amanda saw him and glared at him with murder in her eyes, he bit his lips together to keep a smile forcing its way on his face. Amanda stomped over to him. “Keep your pet on a leash,” she hissed. Steve looked at her, amused. “Oh, he’s untamed. It would be cruel to do that.” Amanda crossed her arms on her chest. “What happened to you?” she asked. “You were decent when we went out.” The smile vanished from Steve’s face and he looked at her menacingly. “You weren’t decent when you left. Why should I then be, hmm? Just take it all in, play the part I did when we went out? You have all the resources you could ever have, and yet, you’re a gold digger. That’s far from decent.” “I bet he’s one too. I can’t imagine someone looking like that going after someone like you without a motive,” she sneered, and walked away.

Steve looked at his feet for a moment. Her words were hitting a bit too close to home, and it stung. He raised his gaze, and saw William looking at him.

He got up and started walking towards Steve - and the time slowed down in his eyes.

William was walking with his shoulders back in a proud straight posture, head up high, steps loose and confident, knowing exactly how good he looked like, pulling his pilot glasses down his nose and smiling a wicked smile, his tongue licking the corner of his mouth, ready to do all the sins mentioned in the good ol’ book and then some. Steve couldn’t help glancing at his crotch and at the tiny speedo holding his semi-hard dick in just barely. He could feel blood gather to his own crotch, and he glanced at the other people on the deck. He couldn’t keep a smile forming on his face as he saw every single pair of eyes locked on William.

But William had eyes only for him.

When Billy reached Steve, he leaned his forearm on the doorway and took his sunglasses off, letting them hang on his finger. He scanned Steve from head to his crotch that was bulging promisingly. “Need a...hand?” he asked and licked his lower lip. Steve blushed. “Jesus Christ, William. I told you not to sunbathe naked." Billy looked down at himself and then back up at Steve with a smirk. "I'm not technically naked." Steve's eyes widened. "Those barely cover anything. Especially with...that. And literally everyone is looking at you,” he said under his breath. Billy glanced over his shoulder. He looked back at Steve and leaned closer to him. “Let’s give them something else to look at then.” He placed his hand on the back of Steve’s neck pulling him into a kiss, not saving on the tongue.

Steve moaned. It had been barely a few hours since they’d kissed last time and yet he was in for more. He could keep kissing William for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t be enough.

When they heard a slap and a man yelping behind them, they broke this kiss and turned to look. One of the women Steve had said he didn’t know, had gotten up from her chair and was storming towards them. When she passed them on her way inside, she glared at them both, her mouth a tight, disapproving line. Soon the man, apparently her husband, passed them, his face beet-red, calling her name and trying to apologize for just looking.

Billy couldn’t keep himself from laughing while Steve’s redness deepened. “Oh, you’re evil,” Steve scolded him chuckling, and grabbed his hand, clearing his throat. “I think we need to continue this in private.”

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve x billy #billy x steve #pretty woman #suometar writes

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curiousconch · 3 years

Text

Chase You/Chase Me (Pt. 7)

Part 7: Round and around we go

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The attack in McGraw Byrne's offices reveals a deeper conspiracy that runs to the top of the law firm, which Alex pursued head on. But when the dust settles, she is forced to face the music of her own troubled mind.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 2.1k+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of violence, and trauma, language. Reader discretion advised.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters as well as some dialogue belong to Pixelberry. I am merely borrowing them.

A week after, New York City

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The gunman panted as he ran through the dark and unfamiliar side streets of New York, the covering on his face not helping alleviate the sense of panic overtaking him.

His current state of mind paled in comparison with how calm he walked into the offices of that freakishly bright law firm.

The task was simple - get the phone and get out.

But when he found himself face to face with the woman who'd sent his life into a whirling clusterfuck, he didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

He missed.

A brute of a man rammed into him right before he took a shot. Who knew corporate slaves can be combative? By then he knew he was fucked. He snatched the phone then ran.

An earlier scope of the building gave him an easy way out, but the shitty maze of the streets of the business district didn't give much of a reprieve.

I fucking hate this city.

He didn't know how long he'd been running, not until he had to stop by the dead end wall in front of him.

Blue and red flashing lights caught him in a daze, his breath heavy, realizing he was boxed in by police officers in an alley.

"Freeze!" one had shouted. "Raise your arms over your head!"

He didn't have a choice. He's not willing to die for his uncle, nor take another sentence in prison. That scumbag wasn't worth it, regardless of how many times that man tried drilling the thought into his head.

I'm tired of this shit anyway. Though I'll miss the perks.

He raised his hands, then felt his knees buckle when someone kicked him from behind, forcing him to the ground. Someone pulled the ski mask off his head, his face now exposed for everyone to see.

He was the younger, spitting image of Koenig's CEO. Except for those piercing blue eyes.

Now everyone will know, he thought. Poor uncle Peter will be burned to the stakes after he spill every single sordid detail of all the crimes Max was ordered to do.

From that pretty little celebrity in L.A., the poisoned man from Oklahoma, the researchers from Massachusetts, and all of those other victims in between.

Good thing he kept all those souvenirs. He will prove to them that he was just a pawn.

The pawn that was Maximilian Koenig Cornell.

A few days after, Rooftop of McGraw Byrne

Alex took another hit of nicotine from the cigarette between her fingers, standing by the edge of the fancy rooftop lounge. She exhaled a plume of smoke, the friction in her throat giving herself a temporary reprieve from her chaotic state of mind.

By the rest of the world's standards, it should have been a beautiful day. The skies above her was indigo, filled with streaks of orange from the setting sun. The peacefulness of it a far cry from the storm that was brewing inside her.

Success shouldn't feel this way. She was having a hard time basking in her recent victories.

Alex was just named junior partner this morning, after successfully taking Peter Koenig and Sadie McGraw down. Max Cornell, who turned out to be Koenig's nephew slash hitman, had confessed. He revealed who really was pulling the ropes, all in the form of well-kept call logs and text messages.

The backlash of it all reached McGraw Byrne's founding partner. The same form of proof exposed Sadie's hand on the Koenig class action suit, as well as her involvement in tipping off authorities to paint Marcus Sharpe as Aliana's murderer. The intent was to veer suspicion away from Koenig, making thousands of dollars along the way.

Alex had completely unraveled the conspiracy, with the help of Aislinn and Gigi. Beau, surprisingly, was more than participative. But it was obvious for everyone at the firm who led the crackdown, and it didn't take long for recognition to come to pass.

In everyone else's eyes, she emerged the winner.

And now, when all is said and done, there was nothing to escape to.

Alex can no longer disassociate herself from the sight of the gun barrel held by the ghost she tried to forget all these years.

The sound of applause, soured only by Martin Vanderweil's display of pain-in-the-ass arrogance, should have made her want to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Instead, here she was, wallowing with herself to be overcame by old bad habits.

What happened in the library was etched in her mind, clear as day. The memory of that close encounter with death, being brought up to life by the lack of distractions, made her shudder.

Every waking hour was consumed by the man with the haunting blue eyes that meant death. Those same eyes from the past that suffocated her for so long.

A decade spent running away from them, yet they still caught up with her.

She worked so hard not to remember, not to let it bring her down, for it not to be her end game. She's at the top of the fucking career ladder, yet why can't she still have a sense of freedom?

Everything just felt wrong. She felt out of place.

Lost in her frustrations, she didn't hear the whirring of the elevator and the approaching footsteps that followed.

"Thought I'd find you here," Gabe said, stopping inches away from her.

It took everything of her not to swivel and look at him, opting to curse at herself for how her body quickly relaxed by the softness of his voice.

The storm clouding her mind instantly dissipated, leaving her bare. Gabe's presence made the oceans within her stand still, as if awaiting to be stirred.

"Didn't want to be found," she mumbled, closing her lips on the still burning stick of nicotine. Alex struggled to keep her gaze steady at the slowly darkening skyline.

I know. Gabe wanted to say. He knew that finding her here, seeking out the comfort of isolation screamed her desire to be left alone. He had seen her internal turmoil, hiding behind the air of stoicism she projected for everyone else.

That's why he was never more determined to find her. He wanted, no, needed, to be there for her.

Gabe knew he'd been a dick to walk out from her that morning in L.A., right after he admitted what he felt for her.

But there was rarely an opportunity to make it right. Whenever there was, there was no getting through her. No matter how much he tried to reach out, to make her see that he regretted his actions that day, she wouldn't let him in.

He couldn't blame her.

Gabe told himself he'd give her time, to give her space. However, fate had other plans.

He almost lost her that night, and it was a wake up call. When he watched helplessly as Cornell aimed at her, something in him shifted. He's no longer stuck in a limbo questioning who Alex was for him, or why he constantly wanted to be near her, wanting to make everything right.

He was decided to run after her, to stay with her, no matter what. He was done chasing after dreams of the past.

Alex was his future.

"Can't get rid of me easily," he settled on that reply, leaning on the glass railing beside her.

"Really?" she quipped sardonically. "I honestly didn't take you to be the staying type."

That had to sting.

He knew he'd hurt her by leaving, so he deserved that. It wasn't enough to make his resolve waver.

"I am," he insisted. "It just takes me some time to find my footing."

She lifted a hand to him. "Don't go there, Gabe. Just don't - "

"I'm not walking away from you again, Alex," he professed.

She whirled to face him with a look of sullen resignation. "I know."

Deep down, she wanted him too. But not in the fucked-up state she was in. She needed to think, she needed to recover, she needed to get a grip on herself.

But she needed to do it alone.

"I can't deal with us now, it's just.." She sighed. "Everything else that's happened is too overwhelming."

Gabe deflated.

It was the first time he heard her admit defeat. He's gotten used to seeing her fighting every step of the way, that finding her in this state of hopelessness felt alien to him. His chest tightened, hating himself on taking part of what pushed her to breaking point.

"I need to take a step back from everything, Gabe," she said, almost begging. "That includes you."

"What do you mean?"

"Can I to take some time off?" she pleaded, wrapping herself in her own arms. "I have to hit pause for now."

"For how long, Alex?" Gabe's voice was strained. She just made it clear that he wasn't what she needed.

Still he hoped. So he held his breath.

Alex thought quietly for a few moments, before looking back at him in determination. He found a semblance of the Alex he knew.

"A couple of weeks," she answered with a tone of finality.

He didn't want to. But in his heart of hearts, he had to respect her decision. He understood that even the strongest needed to heal. Even the brave Alex Keating.

"I'll arrange it," he relented, closing his fists at his sides to stop himself from reaching out to her. "Anything else?"

She hesitated, biting her lower lip before she continued. "Actually, there is one more thing."

"What is it?" Gabe watched intently as she raised her head to look at him, her mouth curved into that familiar signature smirk that he'd grown to chase after.

"Will you wait for me?"

As per her usual modus operandi, Alex took his breath away by her unpredictability. Almost immediately, Gabe wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. He raised his free hand and let his knuckles brush against her cheek.

He smiled softly, a tad afraid that by holding her this close could break her. And yet, the effect she had on him couldn't be stopped from spilling out, as if it was what he wanted to say all along.

"I've waited my whole life for you, so what's a few more weeks?"

Alex beamed at him, relieved. "I knew you'll be up for the challenge."

"Because I care about you, Alex," he whispered.

"I care about you too."

Alex then dared to take it forward.

Before he had the chance to move away, she tiptoed and surprised him with a tender kiss on the cheek.

Gabe wasn't able to react as quickly, the contact catapulting his senses. Just as his mind plunged back to the ground, she was already walking away, the clicking of her black heels syncopating along with the beating drum inside his chest.

His sight followed her until she stood by herself in the employee elevator, her brown-eyed gaze melting him with earnest affection. As the doors shut closed, so did the heart of Gabriel Ricci.

It shut down in anticipation of her return.

Two months later

Mind hazy and craving for Chinese food, Gabe had asked the driver to take a quick detour.

He had just flown from Los Angeles, spending two weeks to assist on a big hotel chain M&A. He got out of LaGuardia at around 10pm, and now his jet lag and empty stomach were taking its toll on him.

The car stopped at the familiar block, and he got out of the vehicle, grabbing his suitcase. He walked the rest of the way, enjoying the craziness of New York City on a Friday night.

For a minute, it reminded him of her.

He heard rumors of her coming back, but HR had been heftily secretive on all things concerning her. With the firm fidgety over Vanderweil's recent harassment lawsuits, he erred on the safe side and didn't poke further.

It didn't take long for him to find Hoi On. Once inside, he greeted the servers in flawless Cantonese, striding straight to the counter.

As he gave his order, the kitchen crew brought out a bag of hunger-inducing takeout box. He was almost tempted to bargain for it instead of waiting for another 20 minutes. Until...

"Order complete for Alex!"

Gabe froze.

His senses were instantly filled by the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla and the echoing beat of heels hitting the floor.

There was no doubt about who was approaching the counter.

He found her standing beside him, the woman he'd missed every single day since he saw her last. The powerhouse junior partner with the easy smile and confident aura.

The woman whose return Gabe eagerly waited for.

"So," Alex began. "I take it tinsel town's fusion of cuisines can't match authentic Brooklyn takeout?" she teased, smiling at him in the same red dress she wore the first time she walked into his office.

He looked down over her - closely looking at the tiny changes in her features. Regardless, she looked more beautiful, taking note of the longer, loose tendrils of brunette hair framing her face.

"No," Gabe shook his head in amazement, his lips breaking into a lopsided grin. "Everything else couldn't compare."

She chuckled. The radiance of her laughter showed Gabe she was really back, and that she was finally ready.

"I bet they couldn't," she winked.

In an instant, Gabe's heart awoke from its slumber. It's as if it knew that this time, the wait was over.

The chase has come full circle.

Author's Notes: This may be the end of this series, but Alex & Gabe will return.

How did you find it? Let me see in your comments/reblogs! Thank you! 💖

Tag list: @adiehardfan @pixelnutrookie @starryjieun @latinagiraffe @sarcastic01lily @spookycolorpeanut @ophrookie @suitfer @thegreentwin @mkatschoicesblog @made-of-roses @lillijill @kachrisberry @weaving-in-words @peonierose @wanderingamongthewildflowers

@choicesficwriterscreations @lawsofattractionfanfiction

#laws of attraction #choices laws of attraction #choices loa #laws of attraction fanfiction #choices laws of attraction fanfiction #choices loa fanfiction #gabe ricci #gabe ricci x mc #fics of the week

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romeulusroy · 4 years

Text

Emotional Whore (Thomas Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: Thomas

Word Count: 1,008

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomrecs @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan @captivatedbycillianmurphy @creativemayhems @soleil-dor @thegirlwithoutaname87

A/N: Ahh I'm sorry I've been so lacking in posts and writing!!! I thought you all deserved a non-therapy fic lol and though this was not at all any of the ideas I was planning on writing, it just sorta happened :P I don't hate it, but I'm definitely not as proud of it as other pieces. It's not my typical style, which feels a lil weird. Still, there are some lines I like a lot! This is as close to smut as I think I'll ever get, so I hope you like it! Thank you for being so patient with me and my lil break. It means the world!!!!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Gif Credit: @nofckingfighting :)

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO. / PART THREE.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Original sin. Not an act against god, but yourself. Going against every instinct, every moral standard you hold for yourself. A moment of self destruction, weakness, a lapse of judgement. Blinded by the gleam of a razor, a decision too enticing, too moronic not to give into. You spoiled him. Let him think he was the one in control, that he had power, that this could be anything more than a kiss, a touch, a fuck. Sweet boy, playful, but he should have known better than to fall for someone who'd rather not sink so low for him. He was the one on his knees, after all. You had ambitions, goals, wants and needs outside of being someone's emotional whore. Believing himself all powerful, all knowing, you would have thought he'd seen the signs soon enough. A life ahead of you left undecided, with no rules, no expectations. Human nature. Someone who'd shared enough nights with faces without names, this was no different.

This was another place to pass through, another person to become and shed when the time was right, another body sleep beside, nothing more, certainly something less.

Hickeys painted cross his neck. Kisses running down your back, between your thighs. Biting, nibbling, giggling between sheets, beneath the shirts you pulled off, discarding all your worries and fears, forgetting too quickly about your responsibilities. It was never supposed to last this long, go on as long as it did. An accident, the first time. A mistake. Slipping from his sheets the next morning, quiet as you could, returning before the sun peaked above the rooftops, wanting nothing more than to wash the smell of him off you. Your boss. The same man who signed your checks, at least for the time being. Taking his phone calls. Passing messages. Learning his schedule, his day to day. Pulling you through the front door, pressing you against the walls. Funny. You would have thought he tasted nothing more of whiskey and hellfire, his words nothing but blown smoke. Sweet nothings in your ear. Curious hands. Nothing but hungry, starved, willing to do anything to make your night.

It was nice, really, to be so wanted, mourned, silently searching the empty space beside him, especting your naked body, but it couldn't happen again.

Until it did. In his office. His bed. His shower before work. The back room. The fucking kitchen. Too many places, too many times a second to dress, to make yourselves presentable. Telling him what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear. Needing to be pleased, praised, feed his ego before you could get what you wanted. Never what you wanted. A fling, something without a label, no strings attached. It was never a trick, a sceme, merely something dragging on, half alive waiting to die. Things like this, it made you stupid. In the heat of it all, made words trickle from your mouth, from his, that shouldn't have been said. Too used to getting his way, for the world to bend over backwards for him, you had to be the one on top, shoe him the only one in control of this was you. Put him in his place before it got away from him any further.

Two different realities.

One of passion, love, something more. Deranged. Almost felt sorry for him. Fooling himself, causing more pain than ever intended, slicing himself up with his own razors so willingly, so blindingly. The other, something to pass the time, to make things a little less lonely and a lot more exciting. Reality. It was never meant to be anything more. You knew who he was, what he did. You saw a man very different leave the bar than who walked in. How the glass smashed between his fingers, how he bit the bullet, chewed the barrel of a gun if he had to, the cold of his skin when the air changed. More enemies than friends. A wait list instead of a hit list. Too many bullets for a single body. You knew better than to play with fire when all you wore was gasoline. He could pretend to be careful. Thoughtful. Genuine. But he'd light his cigarette with the burning flesh of you without a second thought. Keep your distance. Never get too close, no matter how close you were. Not for a second believe the things he said. Rehearsed. Effortless. How many times had he moaned those same things? To how many unsuspecting bodies?

Catching eyes, attention. If it wasn't those eyes, it was his stride, that wicked look, or that egocentric way of thinking. Whatever it may be, it was a trap. A web they found themselves caught in before they even realized, believing he truly loved them, that they weren't his flavor of the week, that a man who had everything really needed them in his life. Show him how it felt. To be screwed over. A glimpse of what he put them through. Never taking no for an answer, he'd have to learn to sit and beg. This wasn't the place for you. Not the home, or the job, not a place you wanted to settle, to set root. You warned him, you'd be gone before he knew it. In the blink of an eye, and yet he was naive enough to fall. Tripping over himself, banging his head on the way down, catching it on a sharp corner. Believing sex was love, and love was sex. Try all he wanted, you knew the ins and outs of him. You knew him better than he knew himself. What would make him crumble, struggle to breathe, what made him tense, his jaw lock, what made him melt between your arms.

You never meant for it to happen, but you were glad it did.

Let him know what it felt like to be on the receiving end. Lord knows how many he left freezing in their sheets, believing what they had was anything more than a kiss, a touch, a fuck.

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leonawriter · 5 years

Text

In The Moonlight

Also on AO3

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi, Kyouka, others.

Pairings: Dazai/Chuuya

Notes: BEAST AU fix-fic. Dazai-typical suicide references. Book Dazai AU.

Chuuya finding the Book isn't entirely an accident. Chuuya falling out of the mafia building after Dazai wasn't an accident at all. Neither was pushing himself to breaking point to make damn sure both he and Dazai survived hitting the ground.

But surviving is one thing. Picking up the pieces of the world in the aftermath of it all, would be another thing entirely.

...

Chuuya leaves, figuring that whatever Dazai wanted to do, he could damn well do without Chuuya - he'd done well enough by that account for the past several years, after all, so what'd be so different about now?

He almost trips, almost falls-

shouldn't be possible like that with his ability he shouldn't and yet andyet-

-and remembers that he'd left something in Dazai's old office. The one Dazai used to have as his home base of sorts, when they were still basically dorming together in the mafia stronghold, having nowhere else to go and no one else to take them in.

At one point, they'd hated each other and worked seamlessly, almost as if where one stopped the other one started.

Then again, at one point, the room he'd just left had been the same one he could still remember pledging loyalty to the mafia - to one man - in, and now, here he was, with all of the reasons he'd sworn that oath having been burnt away over time into the smouldering ashes of could-have-beens.

(He'd seen Dazai plot and set traps around Mori around the time of the Mimic incident; something about the entire thing had left him feeling vaguely sick afterwards, an ache in his side, watching as his world crumbled, fell, and then neatly rebuilt and rearranged itself around him.

Ah, he'd thought sometime later, that's why, he'd thought, remembering how Shirase had stabbed him by getting in close. It was just another betrayal, after all, just another organisation he could have - should have - done more for, where he was slowly being taken for granted.

Again.)

You've forgotten something, his feet still said, taking him back. Who even knew why, it wasn't as if he could change anything.

It wasn't as though he could go back into their past, and somehow change things - it wasn't as if he'd know what to change. He didn't have Dazai's mind for that sort of shit. But then, given where Dazai was right now-

Maybe that was for the best.

...

The Boss' old room from when he wasn't even an executive yet was barely touched from the time when that'd been the case, and this was the only office Dazai'd had, and part of that was because of how little time he'd spent here before moving on to bigger and better places higher up in the food chain.

Or at least, that's what he seemed to want everyone else to think.

'Everyone else' wasn't Chuuya, though, and Chuuya found it all too easy to see the differences - a little less cluttered here, perhaps, a little less full of life. Much like the man it belonged to. The couch they'd bothered each other on before things had started to change was in here, and so were a few other things, although all of them seemed to have been thrown onto the floor rather than treated with any sort of respect or, god forbid, sentiment.

He must have forgotten what he'd come in here for, because he couldn't for the life of him think what could be his in this memorial of a room that he'd want to take with him, that he might have left behind.

That damn bastard had even just left a torn up notebook full of his own writing just scattered on the floor, the binding pretty much coming loose in places.

He bent down to pick it up.

One gloved finger brushed a page.

...

One moment he is crouched on the floor of Dazai's old office.

The next he is seeing himself, frozen in time, outside of space and everything, and at the same time, a part of it.

At first, it is quiet.

Then, he hears something, at the edge of his awareness, a papery sound, as if-

...

His awareness spreads from one page to every single page, and it is too much, too fast, and he thinks he hears himself screaming-

(Hears himself screaming Dazai's name and sees himself shoving an entire skyscraper down a dragon's maw in the midst of Corruption, and Dazai is dressed in white, the white of death, and yet he wakes and touches Chuuya-)

-until he almost can't hear himself any longer, or he would say that, except, something about the thought feels wrong.

Was it even his scream?

Visions of their very own White Reaper, the weretiger Atsushi, flicker in his mind, dressed in a different kind of black-and-white, more white than black, screaming out the name of the Agency's newest recruit in rage.

It all passes him by in an instant, like old camera footage on film, but he can hear it and feel it at the same time. As if he's there.

He doesn't understand.

...

Dazai is standing in front of him, looking roughed up, which sets Chuuya on edge immediately, even before he takes in any real notice of the Boss' clothes, because anyone or anything that could get that close to the Boss, could hurt the Boss, was on him. Keeping the Boss safe from harm, even if it was from himself, was Chuuya's own job, damn it.

And then he looks down at Dazai, and sees the brown coat, the beige trousers, the waistcoat, the tie... more colour than he thinks he's ever seen on Dazai, even on undercover missions. And not a hint of black or red.

Then again, he looks at himself, and he looks much like he did when he was first taken in. How he'd stayed for years, until Dazai had taken over. Before he'd had to resign himself to staying indoors, and barely even seeing or walking the streets of the city he loved.

"If I step in too late," Dazai was saying, "you'll die. It's your call."

He watches himself go.

Trusting Dazai with his life.

Watches himself let go, and give in.

He closes his eyes, and wonders just how long it had taken for him to doubt that trust.

Because he can't look, can't watch himself go like this, and it shakes him when he opens his eyes to see-

Nothing, and everything.

He closes his eyes again, and wonders when it was that he had begun to not bear to look.

...

"Stop it," he says, even though he doesn't truly have a voice here.

"Stop it," he cries out.

He curls in on himself, reaching for a hat that doesn't exist, although the universe has the ability to make another, or a hundred thousand hats the exact same, each one with the handwritten word "Rimbaud" inked into the brim.

It doesn't matter here if he's human or not, because his ability doesn't exist, and all that does are the images and scenes of lives as they could have been, a countless number that are tearing him to shreds.

"Please," he says, the word getting torn out of him, "I just want to go back."

...

The whirlwind dies down.

He starts to be able to think again.

And then-

...

Liar.

...

The word comes from everything, all around. The entire world telling him that he had to be telling a lie.

Liar, the world said, again.

You could have any one of these. You could change the world to your whim.

You don't want to go back.

Liar.

...

"I just want to go back," he couldn't help repeating, as if saying it would make it true.

Seeing those things made him want so badly, made him tempted, and yet...

...

I can't be him.

...

That was right.

Whoever the Chuuya in there was, every time he saw him, he seemed so much younger, so much more naive, and as if he'd barely seen anything of the world.

That wasn't him, he couldn't be that person - maybe he could have, once, but not anymore.

...

...can't be-

...

Chuuya just wishes, for a moment, that the one he was stuck with could be just a little bit more like-

...

I CAN'T BE HIM - I CAN'T BE THAT PERSON.

I CAN'T BE HIM.

YOU CAN'T WANT ME, ALL ANYONE WANTS IS THE ONE WHO ISN'T ME, AND I CAN'T-

...

Knowledge and understanding flood his being in a split second. One moment, there's the confusion of wondering where the voice was coming from that spoke directly into everything so that his very bones (or where bones should be) shook him and gave him such an all-encompassing sensation of despair.

He was inside the Book.

Everything that he had seen was an alternate timeline, an alternate version of events, a possibility.

Dazai would tell Atsushi and Akutagawa that only three people could understand the Book's true use and purpose at a time, and that this would be a lie, as he simply knew that the Book would not be able to withstand being used even one more time.

The incontrovertible truth that Dazai Osamu, regardless of the fact that he seemed to not be aware of this himself... was the Book itself.

Or at least, the part that Chuuya was in right now, was the part made of paper that couldn't burn or be destroyed by normal means, and yet had been used to destruction by Dazai's very own self.

He could find out anything, he realised. Anything at all.

Instead, he simply closed his eyes.

"Put me back," he said, using the same tone of voice he used on jittery subordinates who'd never killed before. Gentle, but firm. "And stop assuming you know what I want, asshole."

...

Chuuya opens his eyes, and catches a sheet of what he had been assuming to be notebook paper, that had blown free from the carpeted floor, and puts it carefully with the rest. Neither it nor the rest of the ripped-out pages will go back in the way they went, but that's not the main issue right now. the important thing was not losing any.

And then, when it's secure and safely tucked away in an inner pocket, the Book - snug against his heart - feels almost as though it's telling him to find a window, to be quick-

...

It's not easy, getting Dazai down. It involves a lot of stopping and starting, running down windows and aborted attempts at going ahead to break one and get him inside before they reach the ground, before having to simply catch the falling fish again and the times when he's just carrying his boss, reacting like someone who's never had an ability - which isn't something that comes naturally to him, more so than for anyone else, given he's never known what it's like to live without it.

By the time they're on the ground, Dazai's staring at him with a single accusing eye (strange, now that he's seen the Dazai-in-brown with both eyes open), as if he's just interrupted something important.

Which, he thinks, according to Dazai, he had.

Not that he gives a flying fuck what Dazai thinks right now, because he's pissed off, and trying to not look too much like he is, because Dazai or not, suicide attempt or not, this was still his Boss.

"...You stopped me," Dazai says eventually. There's a hint of real anger in his voice, but for once Chuuya isn't intimidated.

"I don't remember ever resigning," he says, out of breath. He's pretty sure he can feel bruises he's going to feel for ages, and his suit's torn from broken glass, sticky from it too, from where the glass slid in a touch too deeply when he was holding Dazai and couldn't push it away in time. "I don't remember quitting, either," he adds. "You know, I almost forgot just how much you've always pissed me off, Dazai."

"I'm your Boss-"

"And I'm saying as someone who used to be your partner, I hate suicidal idiots who don't think about anyone else more than anything!" His voice is hoarse. Maybe it's the wind he had to put up with on the way down. That'd count for the way his eyes are watering, too. He's not used to having to deal with high pressure wind like a normal person would, after all. "Damn it, I fucking hate you."

Dazai, damn him, tenses in Chuuya's grip, and then stills.

(Part of him remembers the way another Dazai had floated down effortlessly to the ground, Chuuya the one in his lap instead of the other way around, and it having been a soft, peaceful moment rather than the tense one full of the sound of alarms and people rushing out and surrounding them, since the Boss is on the ground, and with a single touch Chuuya's ability could be turned off, their final defence brought down.

It isn't fair, he thinks, that some other Chuuya got that, and he's stuck with this.)

"The Book," Dazai breathes out, single eye wide, "you found it - Chuuya, what did you do? What did you do?"

"Nothing!" The word rings out around them, and if Chuuya's hurt that Dazai is more concerned with the idea of anything happening to that friend of his who wasn't even his friend here, than his own life, or Chuuya's, or anyone else's in the whole damn world, then - apparently, that doesn't count for much. "I didn't write a single fucking word on a single damn page, Dazai," he says lowly, so that this time Dazai's the only one who can hear him. Dazai just stares at him, clearly not believing. "Not one."

"I... could have died, I think," Dazai says.

There's something tired about the way he says it, that makes Chuuya feel like there's a cold seeping into his bones.

"Yeah," he says, remembering all the numbers of times since they were kids that Dazai's tried and failed to die, the times when he'd floated along the river and should have drowned, when he's hung himself and added yet another rope line to his neck, thrown himself into the line of fire, off of buildings...

Dazai'd somehow always survived, no matter that he hadn't wanted to, had always been vocally disappointed to be able to open his eyes again.

This time, though-

If only a diamond can polish a diamond, does that mean that the only thing that can destroy the Book, something that can't be damaged by fire or any other sort of ability, no matter the kind... is the Book itself?

The pages strewn across Dazai's old office, and the broken state of the self that had been crying out when he'd been inside of it, suggested that maybe they were right.

"You could've," he allowed. "But you're not gonna."

"I'm... not him," Dazai says, closing his eyes.

"Yeah? Good. Means I don't have to get my eyes checked for throwing myself off a building for a ghost, then." He thinks about it, if the Boss had suddenly been replaced like that, and shudders.

He can't finish the thought of wondering, because the very idea of him, the way he is, being looked at - through - by a Dazai who was so much better than both of them, who knew a Chuuya who was so much better than he was, had so much more... it makes him feel like he'd almost prefer never to have known they existed, because that way he wouldn't feel like the memory of their existence was constantly judging him.

...

They both wind up taking a short trip to the A&E, somewhere they haven't been for a while just because usually, Dazai's status as Boss of the Port Mafia tends to mean he's kept safely inside the headquarters building and seen to by Port Mafia doctors, or those they trust. But with the headquarters made a complete mess of by first Atsushi and Akutagawa, and then his own descent, it's no longer as secure as it should be, and anything else would just take too much time.

Dazai's in the next room, guarded by several mafia Chuuya trusts, both to protect him from any threats, but also - after the stunt he'd pulled earlier - from himself, and for his own good.

Chuuya's been getting updates from them and the nurses whenever anything changes. So far, Dazai seems to have sustained mostly non-lethal but inconveniencing injuries that'll put him out of commission for a while.

So when Atsushi and Kyouka come by, the men direct them into Chuuya's room instead, because Dazai's asleep, like he should be.

He doesn't miss the way the weretiger's eyes widen at the sight of him, one of the most feared mafia executives and the Boss' right hand man, covered in bandages just like the Boss, and wrapped in a hospital yukata.

"S-sir!" Atsushi bows, as if they were just in the main office (he thinks he'd tried to blow that window in, too, but the windows hadn't given, just buckled somewhat, and he winces at the thought of how much effort is going to go into repairing and replacing everything).

"Atsushi." The boy's eyes widen at the sound of his name. Then again, he probably expects to be punished, for being up there when a suicidal idiot decided to try and kill himself again.

Chuuya sighs.

"We came because- b-before, Dazai-san... he..."

"He told you to do something, and then fell off the fucking roof, didn't he?" Chuuya summarised.

Atsushi nodded, sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"What was it?" And when neither of them answered, he tched in frustration, and pushed himself a little further upright. "Dazai's in the other room asleep and alive, currently the only one other than you guys and maybe that Akutagawa who'd know what was said up there. As an executive member, I have every right to order you to tell me what he told you to do."

Atsushi paled, and began to shake, but Chuuya couldn't find it within himself to feel too guilty, even knowing just how strong the kid had grown in any other version of events.

"Dazai-san, he... he asked us to protect something," Atsushi said, voice still shaking, seemingly rooted to the spot. Kyouka next to him didn't move a single muscle. "And - he..." his voice trailed off into almost nothing. "He told me to defect from the mafia, sir." The words were barely audible, Chuuya only just able to hear them. "He told me-"

"Then what're you still doing here?" Atsushi, cut off by his superior - former superior, it looked like - stared blankly. "He fired you, kid. And her too, right?" After all, Chuuya had seen the girl doing better elsewhere too, and if he'd seen that, then Dazai definitely would have. "Then why come back like a stray dog to the place that's kicked you out? If you're wondering what to do next since Dazai's not dead, just... do whatever you want. You don't have to do what he says anymore, if he says he's not going to take you back." Hypocrite, he thinks to himself. Dazai had basically thrown him aside, and here he was, still clutching onto the last rags of something he didn't even know was worth keeping anymore. "If the Boss himself has told you to do a thing, you do it. And since I know what what's going on," in more ways than he'd let them know about, even if he had a strong suspicion he knew what they'd been tasked with protecting, and why, "I'm not going to let anyone hunt you down for following orders."

Atsushi began to back away, first one foot, and then the other, backing away and not turning around until he was in the hall, at which point Chuuya saw him begin to run.

Kyouka takes a little longer, studying him, eyes narrowed, before she turns away, a little more confident, a little less twitchy like a spooked cat.

"Good luck, kid," he can't help saying as she leaves. "You'll both do better there."

He thinks he sees her tense at his words, but can't be sure, and then she's gone too, and all he's left with is the knowledge that a part of Dazai's soul is still in his inner jacket pocket, and a sorry sense of attachment to two kids who he barely even knows, but knows can be so much better and more alive, just like them, and he's tired, he's tired of knowing.

So he closes his eyes, and hopes that when he wakes up, Dazai will still be alive, and the world won't have ended, and that when he next looks in that jacket pocket, he won't just see a dissipating mass of ink and dust.

It's as he's just drifting off, not quite asleep and not quite awake, that the thought comes to him-

Ah, he thinks, you're just like me.

...

AN: I'll be honest, this actually started several weeks ago when I was browsing pixiv and saw someone's art of Odasaku, Akutagawa, Atsushi, Kyouka, Kenji, and Dazai all standing in the light, and it made me go, "okay, but AU where they're all able to work together. Where they're on the same side, even if they're not in the same organisations."

And that's how this happened, although the part about Dazai being the Book's squishy human form comes from my other fic "The Rest That's Still Unwritten", which is technically canon to this one and vice versa by pure simple means of "same characters, different stories" even in-universe. Originally I wasn't going to, but... it worked just too well not to, especially after a random idea-thought had Chuuya going "this book's so beat up it looks like it barely even remembers it's a book."

...Though, I'll admit that I haven't gone through more than a summary of the BEAST AU book itself, and all events depicted from it are my own understanding of them. I'm writing a fix fic because I don't really like how things happened there, y'know. It's sad and I don't like sad.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd stuff #beast au #Leona fic #book dazai au

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