#We're two chapters away from finishing this book! I know it's been a long one and I promise the next book won't be as long lmao

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

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

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

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

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the issue then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just don’t understand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where do you fucking start?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love him.

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

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

He smiles against your skin.

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

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

“Everyone is staring at us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But is this really any better? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There you are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

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

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

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

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

“Osamu.”

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

Hm.

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

Interesting.

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

Osamu,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

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

“Dazai.”

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

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

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

“May I have this dance?” 

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

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

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

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

“Speak.”

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

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

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

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

Who are you, Dazai?

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

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

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

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

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

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren’t so sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

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

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 15

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Thank you as always for the lovely responses on the previous chapter! It was a long one, so thank you for sticking through with me. We're about to lighten up a little with some Christmas spirit! ❄️🎁

**Also, if you're a fan of The Boys (and Soldier Boy), there's an awesome book you can check out, called Supes Ain’t Always Heroes: Inside the Complex Characters and Twisted Psychology of The Boys.

If you want to learn more about the book (including cast interviews and a character study on Soldier Boy), I wrote a review about it here!

Otherwise, on to some more firefighter!Dean!

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, tinge of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of feels.

Part 15: “The Good Part”

“How many damn arrests does that make?” Daniel asked. He gripped his pool cue with both hands while he leaned on it.

His son stood at the other end of the pool table, lining up his shot. He paused to think.

“Six,” Nick replied. His cue released, and it knocked two of his balls into the pocket.

“Six,” Daniel repeated, while Nick came his way to find an angle for his next turn.

Daniel shook his head. His lips were angrily pursed. His eyes might’ve been on the pool game, but he was playing chess in his mind. He had underestimated John Winchester for far too long, it seemed.

The man was stubborn as all hell. And he’d been busy lately, getting “Azazel’s” men busted for all manners of bullshit.

“Alastair’s mole says Winchester’s been calling in favors from his old friends in Narcotics, trying to bust our small fries,” Nick reported. “Getting them on everything from petty theft to drug possession, with intent to sell. But it’s nothing we can’t pull ‘em out of.”

“Time, money, added risk,” Daniel cited on his fingers all the reasons why John Winchester was a pain in his ass. “It’s only a matter of time before they get a warrant to rip apart Savage & Co., sweep the whole damn building. For forensic evidence, our files, all the jazz.”

Daniel’s fingers drummed thoughtfully against his chin. “A damn cop thinks he’s being cute.”

Nick missed his second turn. His hand fell against his thigh in annoyance, but he looked up.

“Dad, it’s your move.”

Daniel rubbed at his chin. His eyes were no longer seeing the board in front of him. Eventually, they slid up and met his son’s gaze.

“We’re going to start from the beginning,” he said.

Nick’s face gave away his confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Daniel just smiled.

It was Christmas Day, and John was late. Sam and Dean were used to that drill, so they weren’t expecting him until dinnertime.

Meanwhile, it gave you a chance to find your footing as you got to know Eileen. She had helped you bake the pies that were now cooling on the counter (pumpkin and berry crumble), and a few of the side dishes for dinner. Sam had covered cleaning up the rest of the house, while Dean tackled his favorites: the ham and the mac and cheese.

Now the guys were in the living room watching football while you and Eileen were still in the kitchen, decorating some gingerbread cookies you two had made. She enjoyed it; doing holiday crafts with her students had been bringing out her artistic side, she told you. You were happy for the help and the conversation.

You later tried to cover up your snort of laughter as she finished telling you the story of how Dean once dared Sam to wear women’s underwear for a whole week.

If he managed it, Dean had promised to do all the household chores for three months. If Sam couldn’t make it the whole week, then he would face the consequences: Dean would tell their dad about the bet.

“How old were they?” you asked.

Eileen scoffed. “Sam was a senior in college.”

You burst out laughing again. “So too old, is the answer… Did he win?”

Eileen gave you a mischievous smile.

“He did,” Dean said, as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a familiar smirk. “I’ve got photographic evidence. It was a cheetah print thong, in case you were wondering.”

Your eyes widened on a laugh. “Oh my God.”

Cheetahlicious, you couldn’t help joking in your mind. Even if you’d rather not think of Sam wearing a pair of Victoria Secret’s best.  

Eileen giggled with you. Dean’s amusement gave way to curiosity as he eyed the little gingerbread men you two were icing. You warned him off with your eyes, but it took Eileen batting his hand when he tried to steal a cookie.

“Hey! Wait ‘til after dinner,” she said.

Dean pouted. “Come on, don’t be stingy.”

Rolling her eyes, Eileen sighed.

“You’re like one of my kids,” she said, while signing with her hands. But she caved and handed him a cookie. “Here. To tide you over.”

Dean smiled and signed back to her in ASL, Thank you.

“That’s why you’re my favorite,” he said. He leaned down to kiss her cheek in a brotherly gesture.

He shot you a wink before taking a bite of his prize. You shook your head at him, even though you were smiling. He came around to your side of the table. His hand rested on your back and he bent down towards your ear.  

“I actually came over for you,” he said. “Got a minute?”

Your brows rose, but you turned to Eileen in askance. “I’ll be right back. Is that okay?”

She nodded and made an “OK” gesture. “Of course.”

You smiled and let Dean lead you out of your chair, and even out of the apartment. He made sure you both grabbed your coats by the front door.

“Where are we going?” you asked. While you put on your coat over your sweater and jeans, you didn’t notice him grabbing two sets of keys.

“Just downstairs. No big deal,” he said, hefting on his own leather jacket.

You eyed him with some suspicion, but you walked with him down to the elevators and let him keep you close to his side. He smelled like the cologne you bought him for Christmas, and he was already wearing the new watch as well.

You’d struggled to find him the right gift. Nothing felt quite enough after everything he’d done for you the last few months. He’d assured you that he was grateful for both gifts, and had even tried to say the watch looked too expensive. (You’d shut him up with a kiss.)

Now, you had to wonder what he was up to as he led you into the parking lot, but not toward Baby. Instead, you two stopped in front of a shiny silver Chevy parked in a guest spot.

“Dean, what’d you do?” you asked, both excited and worried. He shot you a grin and dangled the keys in front of you.

“You like her?” he asked. His eyes were dancing. “You could keep her, if you ask nicely.”

Your face slackened. You looked between him and the sleek looking car.

“What?” You covered your mouth with both hands. Even after a few moments, your brain was still having a hard time computing. “No…what? Oh my God!”

You grabbed onto his jacket, just in case your legs failed you. Dean laughed and gathered you up in his arms. By the time you peeled your eyes away from the silver beauty to look up at your boyfriend, there were tears already swimming in your eyes.

“Dean, this is really too much. Where’d you find—”

“Bobby had it sitting in his garage for years,” he explained. His hand came up to brush your cheek, and the tears there. “I cleaned her up, dropped in a new engine, safe-proofed with new tires, new airbags, the works. Got her purring like a kitten.”

Your eyes grew a little wider with every admission. Then you softened, gripping the edges of his jacket while you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling.

“How much did he sell it to you for?” you asked. Dean dropped his head back with a sigh.

“Don’t you wanna take a test ride before we start hagglin’?”

You lightly smacked his chest. “Hey. How much?”

He let out another heavy sigh, but you eventually got it out of him. While the price wasn’t as bad as you might’ve expected, you still shook your head.

“I still have a decent chunk of insurance money left. I’m giving you at least half,” you said.

Dean shook his head. “This is my gift to you.”

Your lips pursed, despite the smile that wanted to peek through.

“Nice try,” you said wryly. “You already got me perfume.”

“That was just the decoy.” He grinned, and held you a bit tighter against him. He nodded towards the car. “She’s the main event.”

You wanted to sigh, but this conversation wasn’t over. You were definitely not letting him buy you a whole new…old car. You turned to look at it again.

“What model is this?” you asked.

“2002 Camaro Z28,” Dean rattled off. It sounded impressive, but you didn’t know much about cars.

He let go of you so you could get a closer look. Your hand passed over the hood, but didn’t touch, as if you were afraid of staining the paint with your fingerprints. He had to admit, he’d waxed it up good and managed to get rid of a lot of superficial nicks and scratches.

What he said was true though; Bobby had given him a frankly ridiculous deal. Because when Dean had told him what you’d been through after the car accident, dealing with your grandfather’s passing, and now your ever-mounting expenses, Bobby hadn’t let him walk away from Singer Salvage with anything else but this car. He’d even helped Dean get the new parts he needed to fix it up.

“Is it automatic or manual?” you asked, trying to peer through the driver’s window. “I haven’t driven stick in a hell of a long time.”

Dean came up from behind you and his warm hand found your hip. You let him draw you back into his arms, leaning against his chest.

His lips were close to your ear when he said, “I think you’re damn good at driving stick.”

It took you a second, but the heavily laden innuendo in his deep voice was hard to miss. You uttered a laugh and swatted his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said. You were still smiling when you turned and twined your arms around his neck. Then you leaned up for a kiss—one that kept getting deeper with the full force of your gratefulness, and your love for this man.

“It’s an automatic,” he answered, between kisses. You giggled against his lips.

You barely felt the chill on the air. Your heart was beating fast, even when you pulled away from him. Your eyes slowly opened and met his. He smiled down at you and curled an errant strand of hair behind your ear. As usual, you had most of it clipped up.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

You let out a shaky breath. Emotion was clogging your throat, making your tears burn anew.

“This is a bit more than a Christmas present,” you said. He gave a more self-deprecating smile.

“Well, it’s also kind of an apology,” he said. “For getting you mixed up in my ‘family business.’”

He still felt guilt beyond belief for putting you in danger. For your life being threatened. For being the reason you couldn’t go home.

You just shook your head. Your hand raised to press against his cheek. Your thumb drew tenderly along his chin.

“I thought you said you were part of my family now?” you said. “We’ll figure this out together, like everything else.”

Dean’s eventual smile lightened you, and his kiss warmed you down to your toes. 

“If you want, let’s go for a ride after dinner,” he said.

It was your turn to smirk. Your hands migrated under his jacket and teased at his belt.

“Well, I’m certainly down for a ride,” you said.

Dean laughed and squeezed your hips. “All right. I’m puttin’ you on my naughty list.”

When John finally arrived, the brothers welcomed him in first with big man hugs and good-natured ribbing for him being so damn late.

In Sam’s words, Upholding a Winchester family tradition.

John had taken that with a chuckle. “Smells damn good in here.”

“Yeah, food’s been done for an hour,” Dean prodded at him again. His grin betrayed his teasing, however. His welcoming hand stayed on his dad’s shoulder until they reached the living room, where Sam had set up a longer fold out table and chairs to function as the makeshift dining room, since the table near the kitchen only seated three.

There you were opening a bottle of Jack Daniels. You smiled up at John.

“Figured you were more of a whiskey than wine kind of guy,” you said. You were a bit nervous to see him again, no doubt with flour in your hair and frosting staining your hands. He clasped your shoulder with a hint of a smile.

“You’d be right. Good to see you, darlin’,” he said.

“You too,” you replied. Despite the fact that the first and last time you two had met, it had been in front of your house as the police rifled through your life, looking for more explosives. He graciously didn’t bring that up as he greeted Eileen next.

Once dinner was on the table, there was a lot of catching up between the brothers and their father while you and Eileen continued talking, even through dessert.

“This really is amazing,” she told you, pointing her fork at her slice of berry crumble. “I can see why you went to culinary school.”

You blushed as Sam, Dean, and even John echoed her praise. All three men had generous slices of both pies. 

“Well, thank you. I’m glad you guys enjoy it,” you said, and your smile was genuine.

You loved making good food, but you loved feeding people even more. Whether it was a simple hearty soup or a rich dessert, you liked putting smiles on their faces and giving them a good experience; one they could share with their family and friends. Even better if it was your family.

Or as Dean would say, Your people. 

To you, that was life.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you opened up a bakery you’d make a killing in this town,” Dean said. He nudged your hand with the one that held his fork; it held a precarious piece of pumpkin pie.

You shot him an amused look.

“Don’t you look at me sideways, I’m serious,” he said, laughing a little, but his gaze was steady.

Your cheeks warmed against your will. He believed in your dream, even when you couldn’t quite let yourself.

“Hey, if you ever want to look into applying for a loan, I could help,” Sam said, earning your attention. “I have a friend who works at a bank.”

Your brows raised. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we were pre-law together back in college, but he figured he was better with numbers.”

You smiled. “Well, it would make it easier knowing I was dealing with your friend.”

“Yeah, his name’s Brady. Let me know if you want me to call him,” he said.

You bit your lip, but you nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Maybe they were right. Maybe you should start to believe in yourself, just a little bit more.

“This was all real delicious,” John said to you, when you came back from bringing the leftovers to the kitchen.

Sam and Dean were already arguing about who was doing the dishes and who was drying them. Meanwhile, Eileen was putting away the food (and probably rolling her eyes).

“Yeah, it was a team effort for sure,” you replied. “Dean’s actually a really good cook.”

John chuckled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t get that from me. I can barely boil a damn egg.”

You smiled to yourself; you could imagine Dean got it from his mother then.

Meanwhile, John was watching you stack the empty plates as he grew more contemplative. He’d always been proud of his sons. They were good men, with strong heads on their shoulders.

He often looked at Sam and saw that he seemed happy. Despite the demands of his job, he was learning to balance that with the life he led with Eileen. As a father, John looked forward to the day when they made a firm foundation, taking the next step towards building a life together.

But Dean had seemed to him, a little unstable. John was still proud of his eldest, but while he’d seen a glimpse of it that day at your house, he saw it even more today. Like his son finally had an anchor, tethering him to dry land.

Even so, he couldn’t help heaving a sigh. And he asked you something he knew he shouldn’t.

“Have you given any more thought to filing a report on Nick Savage?” he asked.

You paused in your plate and cup stacking. You looked up at him with a frown, but you thought about your words before you said something rude.

“Yes, I did,” you replied. “I decided my life and my peace were more important.”

He let out a short sigh. “I understand—”

“I’m sorry, John, but I don’t think you do,” you said. Your words were matter-of-fact, if a tad more sharp than you meant them to be. Your hands were starting to tremble.

You crossed your arms to try and steady yourself, but Dean ended up doing just that, by joining your side and resting a hand at the small of your back. He was frowning, glancing between you and his father.

“Tell me you’re not talking about what I think you are,” Dean said, addressing John in particular. “Not on damn Christmas.”

“Like you said, it’s her decision,” John replied. His gaze once again focused on you.

You let out a breath, mostly of exasperation.

“I’m going to bottom-line it for you. If I report that man, and you can’t guarantee me a job and safety until it’s all over, then I’m not poking the bear,” you said. “I plan to keep my head down until I can find another job. Until then, you can have at him all you want. Just leave me out of it.”

Part of you felt selfish. You knew what John was trying to accomplish, and you knew how personal this fight was for him, and for Sam and Dean for that matter. You just couldn’t shake your gut instincts here. You knew Nick far too well by now, and you didn’t want to underestimate him again.

“I agree,” said Dean. You gave him a grateful look.

John conceded with a nod, but all of you knew he wasn’t satisfied. It became a bitter ending to an otherwise brilliant day after he left for the night.

In your mind, it wasn’t quite over yet though. You had a plan up your sleeve for one Dean Winchester.

Sam and Eileen had their own time together while you and Dean went for a drive in your new car. You’d have to transfer your plate and registration and insurance, so it was technically an “illegal” drive, but it was already late and traffic was scarce.

By the time you pulled back into the parking lot, you were smiling from ear to ear, and Dean was giving you that smug grin that said, Aw yeah, I did good.

You couldn’t even fault him for it, because he did exactly that.

Even when you and Dean were getting ready for bed, it didn’t quite feel real. You were living with your boyfriend of just a few months, you now had a new car, and a crime lord had threatened your life.

You chose to focus on the new car. And on your boyfriend, who sat on the edge of his side of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder through his shirt. You knew it must still be sore, though he likely wouldn’t admit it.

Hence, you were about to enact Phase 1 of your plan…

You hadn’t undressed yet from your jeans and sweater, but you crawled across the bed to come up behind him and drop a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How’s your slugging arm?” you asked.

Dean quirked a smile at you over his shoulder. “Just fine.”

“Dean,” you said. Your tone was gentle, but warning. No downplaying.

You pressed your lips against the side of his head and soothed your hand along his shoulder and down his arm. Still, he was resistant.

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said.

You hummed. “Okay. I guess you don’t need a massage then.”

He paused. His head tilted just so, once again turning to you over his shoulder. You spied the edge of his piqued interest, his grin.

“Well, if you’re offering…”

You withdrew your hand from his arm, but you spoke close to his ear.

“Are you asking?”

He let out a small sigh, despite his lingering smile.

“All right. Will you please give me a lil’ massage?” he asked.

He couldn’t see your triumphant smile, but you happily kissed his cheek.

“I sure can,” you replied. You laid gentle hands on his shoulders, however briefly. “Stay right here. Don’t move, but take off your shirt.”

“All right, Miss Bossy,” he grumbled. You knew he was teasing by the amused look he threw your way.

“I thought you liked that,” you teased back.

You climbed off the bed before he could playfully grab you, and you giggled all the way to the bathroom. There you began Phase 2 of your plan. 

First, you collected a few different bottles from your designated drawer under the sink. Then, you made a quick wardrobe change, after popping back into the bedroom to grab something from your nightstand.

You also connected your phone to the speaker on his nightstand and put some music on a low volume. It was a playlist he’d made and shared with you a while ago, with songs he thought you’d like. The Eagles’ “Take It to the Limit” was definitely on the list.

By the time you returned to Dean, he was indeed shirtless, still in his sweatpants, and checking his watch.  

“I’m here, I’m here,” you said. You climbed across the bed with your small haul—a difficult feat with your hands full, but you managed.

Dean turned to look at the bottles of moisturizer you dropped next to him on the bed. He rose a brow.

“Twilight Woods. Japanese Cherry Blossom. Appletini. Are these my only options?” he asked. His face was half bemused, half reluctant.

You almost burst out laughing. “Which one strikes your fancy?”

He scratched the back of his head. You opened the second bottle first (your personal favorite), so he could smell.

“Not bad actually,” he muttered. You bit your lip so you wouldn’t giggle, but you managed to open the other two for him to get a whiff.

“Eh, the first one I guess,” he said.

Japanese Cherry Blossom. AKA: a classic from Bath & Body Works.

You finally had to laugh. “Just kidding. I’ve got this.”

You held up a jar you’d been hiding behind him. Its logo said: Massage Oil.

“I just wanted to see which girly moisturizer you secretly wanna slather all over yourself,” you said.

Dean shot you a wry look, but only then did he see what you were wearing.

“Oh, hold up,” he uttered.

Your hair was let loose, how you knew he liked, and you’d teased it out a little. You’d had to give away the red lingerie you’d bought, to rid both of you of its lingering memories of your work Christmas party. Instead, you’d found something in a vibrant emerald green: satin and lace.

Dean’s hand reached for your waist, probably to bring you closer. But you playfully slapped his hand.

“Eh-eh! Not yet,” you said to his surprised face. You smiled. “I have a plan for you tonight.”

Slowly, he smirked. His eyes still dipped to take in the rest of you, from your pretty face, to exposed skin and cleavage, to shiny satin that clung to your curves and draped down to mid-thigh. 

“I can see,” he said. His voice was a notch deeper. “Merry Christmas to me.”

Despite your blush and growing smile, you turned him back around by his shoulders.

“Just relax.”

You let your hands drift up the back of his neck to slide your fingers through his hair. There you began with a slow, gentle massage of his head. You felt him take a deep breath.

You couldn’t see it, but Dean’s eyes had closed at your ministrations. He secretly really liked the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It made his shoulders loosen; with tension he didn’t know he had releasing from the neck down.

Aside from the rigors of his job, he also had to work out and condition his body to keep up his stamina. He probably didn’t spend as much time as he should on this aspect of things, making sure he wasn’t overtaxing himself.

He appreciated what you were doing though. He knew you cared about him, that you loved him. But he liked that you were also a caring person, who tried to take care of him. Dean hadn’t really had that…from anyone before. Sometimes, it was hard for him to let you.

…Damn, we really got too much in common, he realized.

When you migrated back down his neck, your hands left for a moment to gather up some oil. It was warm against his skin when you started between his shoulders, digging with the heel of your hands.

He groaned deep, surprising even himself.

Behind him, your brows were furrowed. “You’re really knotted up here. When was the last time you had a massage?”

Dean chuckled. “Never.”

You frowned. “Hmm. Okay, we’re definitely doing this more often.”

“No complaints from me,” he said with a grin.

Of course, you gave special attention to his right shoulder. You were gentler there, asking what was tender and what felt good, or too much. By then you had an easier time getting the truth out of Dean. He let you know when the pressure was too much, and you even helped him stretch out that arm until the muscles and joints were warmed up and the pain was gone.

You encouraged him to lie on his stomach in the middle of the bed, so you could start on his back. Your hands glided down planes of muscle and smooth slopes while you straddled his thighs. The only sounds you heard from him were occasional moans and rumbling, pleased sounds. That was also what let you know that he hadn’t fallen asleep.

“Okay, turn over,” you said, smiling when he groaned in protest. “I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

“What the hell’s the good part then?” he asked. His voice was muffled in the mattress, but when he turned around, flopping onto his back, his eyes once again took in the green satin and seemed to remember what your real intentions were.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. His grin was lazy, now that he was beyond relaxed, but his hands found purchase on your hips. You smiled down at him.

You let the remaining oil on your hands glide up his chest, until you lowered down for a kiss. It was unhurried and sweet.

“I love you, you know?” you said.

Dean swept his fingers through your hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

He smiled. “I’ve got some idea, yeah.”

You both laughed, soft and true. Your hand rested against his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, soft and slow at first, but soon gaining in both passion and urgency. You felt his grip on your hips tighten, grinding your center against his growing length.

He groaned. No goddamn panties on. Good.

You kissed your way from his lips to his neck. Your teeth grazed his ear while you rolled your hips into his. It was a tease for both of you, but not for long, as Dean grew impatient enough to slide his sweatpants down, followed by his hands slipping under the satin covering your thighs. They traveled further still, squeezing your breasts and rolling hardened nipples under the pads of his thumbs.

Your breath hitched, and your pleased hum was music to his ears. By now you were bracing yourself against the mattress, but you used his shoulders as leverage to raise yourself up.

You took his hands and encouraged them to bunch up the satin and pull it over your head. Dean sat up with you still in his lap, and once his strong arm wrapped around your waist, it was skin to flushed skin.

You held his face and brought him down to you for another fierce kiss. He held you tightly against him, hands splayed across your back and tangling in your hair. His arms were a cage you never wanted to escape.

But you did press away from him, just for a moment, so you could reach down between your bodies to take a firm hold of his cock. You guided it to your entrance. There was already a small flood between your legs, and your core ached for him.

There was almost no resistance when you slowly sunk your hips down and down, until he was buried deep inside you.

You both made sounds of pleasure, with labored breaths as Dean’s hand cradled your cheek. He laid open-mouthed kisses to your jaw, teeth grazing down your neck.

You clung to his shoulders and began to move, slow in the way you let almost the full length of his cock escape you, before you slid back down. Dean moaned into your skin, and you let out a shuddering sigh.

You pushed at Dean’s chest until he was lying back, and you continued rolling your hips against his. He helped you create a steady rhythm on top of him, but he was being treated to a feast of the eyes as well as the pleasure rocking through his body. He watched the way you swept your hair back. The way your eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration as you bit your lip.

But he couldn’t stay still for long; he knew he was close enough to practically taste his end, but you had some miles to go. He gripped your thigh with one hand while the other glided up between them, to further part your folds. His fingers found your clit, circling insistently like it was a button. It had your hips stuttering.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. “Dean—”

He managed to smirk through panting breaths. “Right there, right baby?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You continued to move as steadily as you could, but the feeling of him deep inside combined with his talented fingers playing you like a five-string guitar—it finally made you tighten on him, shuddering deep inside. Tingles broke across your skin, zipping up your spine as you gasped.

Dean helped you with the last few hard thrusts that brought him along with you, and you felt his warmth spilling inside you.

It wasn’t the first time that had happened, since you were on birth control. But after you slid off his lap and practically rolled into his side, him welcoming you with an arm wrapping around your waist, it did make you think, as you caught your breath.

It made you think about the first time you and Dean slept together. It had been the first and last time you’d asked him to wear a condom. The next morning, he’d made a remark that still hung in the back of your mind…

“You like kids, huh?”

The thought still rattled through your mind now, after you and Dean shared a quick shower, ridding you both of the oil clinging to your skin. The thought remained when you slid into bed, under fresh sheets and thick covers, and close to your man. He cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling.

Contrary to what this night had been, the whole “moving in together” thing hadn’t been all that easy. You two had bickered about the way he often left drawers and cabinets open and dirty clothes on the floor.

He had made remarks about your hair products taking up too much space in his drawers. Not to mention how morning routines needed to adjust because Dean liked to shower in the morning, but you needed the mirror not fogged up in order to do your makeup.

Right now, however, you had peace. You felt safe here, and you weren’t alone in a huge house filled with far too many memories.

“Can I ask you something?” you said.

Dean’s lips lingered on your forehead. “Hmm?”

“I know this situation is sort of temporary, me living here,” you said. “So much has happened that we haven’t really talked about…what we both want, down the line.”

He pulled back enough from you to see your face. His face betrayed a thread of confusion.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean like…” you hesitated, but you realized you were probably going to have to be direct. “Are you a marriage and kids kind of guy? Is that even something you’ve thought about?”

Dean met your gaze. It took him a moment, but he let out a short sigh.

“You wanna know what made me want to start dating, for real?” he asked.

You blinked; you hadn’t expected that, but you nodded.

“I started thinking about what would happen if something happened to me on the job,” he said. You frowned, but before you could say anything, he raised a placating hand.

“I thought about what I’d leave behind,” said Dean. He quirked a wry smile. “It’s not much, besides my car.”

You frowned in earnest. Your hand flattened against his bare chest.

“That’s not true,” you said. “You have your brother, your father, and your friends. That’s plenty, Dean.”

He conceded that with a nod. “You’re right. But I just started thinking, maybe I want more. Like uh…like what my parents had, when they were happy. The house, each other, me and Sammy…a family.”

You couldn’t be certain in the near total darkness of the room, with only the moonlight filtering through the blinds and casting a glow behind him, but you thought you saw a shine in his eyes. Your hand crept up from beneath the covers to find his cheek. It was rough with stubble, yet you tenderly swept a thumb back and forth.

“I think that’s beautiful,” you replied.

Dean paused. He then huffed in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, hoping he could see it. 

“Then uh, is that something you’d be into?” he asked. You were amused by his tentative approach. 

“With you?” You pretended to think. Your fingers slipped into his hair. “Yeah, I think I’m into that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, then. Good to know.”

He grasped your wrist and turned his head to press a kiss into your palm.

And he spoke into the dark. “I love you too, you know.”

Your smile deepened as you rested your head against his arm. You whispered into the small space between your faces.

“Yeah, I’ve got some idea.”

AN: 🥹 All righty, how'd you like that fluff overload?

...Ready for some more drama? 😏

Next Time:

But the more you thought about what you’d heard, and Nick’s ominous threat about a cop, you found yourself scrolling lower in your contacts. You called John Winchester.

It rang a few times, and all the while you made silent, fervent prayers. Pick up, damn it! You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“John, it’s me,” you whispered. “Azazel’s here. Or, he’s not here, here, but I know who he is. Well, I mean kind of—”

“Okay, wait. Slow down,” he said. “What about Azazel? You know who he is?”

Keep Reading: PART 16

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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#The Good Part #Smoke Eater #Part 15 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #Sam Winchester #eileen leahy #john winchester #zepskies writes

[msookyspooky]

Fours a Franchise

Part 12

Wordcount: 8,567

Omfg I got the flu for a week, had a family fued that lasted months between my aunt and...EVERYONE. But thankfully my younger cousin I'm super close to is living with her Dad/My Uncle now after months of this bs so finally there's peace, then in-between this fued and my cousin moving out I got covid and ong I have been foggy headed for 2 weeks afterwards I'm just starting to feel like my normal self again....THEN Wattpad kicked me out of my account. From September till now has been an out of body experience in a bad way 🙃

So thank you all for your support and patience I appreciate it 🖤 but I am so done wracking my brain over this chapter so we're just winging it rn bc I want to write and get past this hump to finish this story then start on 5. So if I missed info or a typo or misplaced lore from previous books *No I did not*~

Annnnddd my motivation with recent Scream news.

The news of Scream 7 is so disheartening and screwed up with Sam and Tara's actresses. So I cannot promise I'm writing till 6 or 7 not only because I'm losing my hyper fixation for Scream after these 2 years but no Tara, Sam, Sidney and most likely no Stu because Matthew is a real one and wouldn't come back after how they treated Neve and Melissa so like? What's the point? This book and 5 I am for sure doing because Billy meeting Sam is a huge writing motive for me. 6 is iffy but 7? I am not. Not only do I not have the motivation to write that much more for this story but it's pointless with so much of Scream being written like bad fanfiction the last 2 installments...Hell, I could do that! But I won't because I probably won't even watch Scream 7 if they make it. The Studio has screwed over Neve and Melissa in ways that I really don't want to support.

Anyways, thank you for the patience. I appreciate all of you! ♡♡♡♡

—————————————

   Ghostface grabbed your ankle and you hit the stairs. Hard. But the second they went to stab you, you kicked them as hard as you could in the knee sending them flying back and tumbling down the stairs. 

Jill grabbed your arm. "Come on, YN!" As you both bolted for Kirby's room…Kirby had gotten separated during the chase and you didn't know where she was. 

Jill locked the door and told you. "The balcony!"

"There's no other way out?" 

"You can jump, maybe, I don't know." Jill rushed out past her lips as she got away from the door. 

You breathed hard, looking down at the drop off from the second story. You couldn't think long as the door frame started bending; the wood splintering with each bang from the killer trying to break it down. 

"That's two stories." You looked at her trying to form a plan. "...Get under the bed." 

Jill looked confused, "Wha-" 

"Just do as I say." You harshly whispered. "Get under the bed and don't make a sound or come out until I get you, okay? Trust me!…Go!" 

You watched her go to crawl under Kirby's bed as you climbed over the railing.

Jill hid under the bed as you heard the door to Kirby's room finally break and the killer come inside. Slowly walking past Kirby's bed...

You made a gasp as you almost fell.

Ghostface darted out onto the balcony to see you descend onto the porch roof. You rushed down around the corner of the home and looked back to see Ghostface on the roof too. Staring at you through that mask before disappearing. You figured back inside to look for the others because you looked back around the corner to see they were gone.

You quickly used the opportunity to get your cellphone.

You faltered just a second...You didn't trust to call police because you did not trust Judy. You didn't care if she was out in the open when Jill's mother was killed. Partners. Besides, you did not have a good track record of using your one phone call for cops and either they don't show up, show up too late, or show up and make things worse with the killer. But you still had to call someone. Randy dead, Gale injured, maybe Dewey? Maybe just risk 911-

You heard a noise and out of reflex you accidently pushed a button on speed dial that you hissed a curse at. Too late, they picked up the phone as you frantically tried windiws.

As soon as it picked up you rushed out, "The killer's here at Kirby's! I need your help. 329 whispering lane-" 

You yelled as you rounded the corner to try a window you saw was cracked open just for the killer to jump out at you. You gasped and stepped back as they tried to slash you with the knife as you dropped the phone on the roof and lost your footing. Tumbling off the roof before barely catching yourself on the gutter. Your fingers and hands burned painfully from the impact as well as trying to hang onto the thin uncomfortable metal with your body weight. The hand you injured from the knife stab a decade ago hurt the worst. Tingling and burning as you desperately tried to hang on. 

You gasped looking up to see a knife and mask. The knife narrowly missed your hand as you let go and let yourself fall harshly onto the ground. Tumbling painfully before laying there a second from the impact. Robbie no longer screamed…Only the smell of flesh and hair and plastic burning as his body provided some fucked up bonfire in the front yard that blazed overtop a pile of dead leaves...And of course this house was about like Stu's with hardly any neighbors. Should've seen that a mile away.

"Shit…" You grabbed the knife from your boot and bolted, forcing your legs to move even if they didn't want to. Running back into the house before yelping at someone grabbing you. You went to stab them before she said, "No, no, no, no! Sorry, It's me." 

You lowered the knife as you saw Kirby. She drew you to a corner of the kitchen to quietly talk. "Look, I tried to call 911 but the landlines dead and someone smashed the router...And my cellphone is missing. I-I don't know, I think I lost it while running I don't understand. "  

Your mind raced with that.

But…Did she actually call 911? Or was she lying? Where had she been? Why didn't she go with you and Jill? Did she actually try to call or did she mess with the landline and wifi in her own house?...

You didn't have time to talk as you both heard heavy footsteps upstairs and Kirby opened the basement door and rushed you in, "Oh god. Go, go, go, go, go!" She urged before following after you and locking the door as you both quickly got down the steps as she informed you. "There's a room down here we can lock ourselves in. I heard you yelling at Jill; is she okay? Did she get away?" 

You both made it to the room as you told her, "She's safe but where's the others? Trevor, Charlie?" 

Kirby breathed out shakily. "I don't know." 

You hissed through your teeth. "Did Trevor or anyone have a shoulder or arm wound? I shot Ghostface in the shoulder tonight before they escaped the barn." 

Kirby mumbled, "I don't think so." All before locking you both in the dark room…Suddenly, you both gasped and jumped at a banging noise. Nearly jumping out of your skin as you instinctively wielded your small knife. You held your knife tightly as you both saw a bloody Charlie banging desperately on the glass door leading to the backyard.

"Kirby! Please, let me in!" 

"Charlie?" Kirby breathed out, going to the door…Her eyes darted to his bloody hand and arm. 

He looked where her eyes traveled and he shook his head. "N-No! I got attacked! Please, let me in!..." He kept banging his bloody hand on the glass while fearfully looking around. "Please! There is someone else out here, let me in! They burnt Robbie!...Jesus Christ, Kirby, they set him ablaze in the yard!" 

You saw Kirby ponder and you told her firmly. Already having your hunch. "If you can't trust him; don't open the door…"

Kirby looked taken aback by that realization. 

Charlie looked outraged on the other side of the glass. "My God! Let me in!" He begged Kirby with fear raising his voice a few octaves. "I don't know who's doing this but it's not me! Please!" 

Kirby swallowed but with a tense look told him. "...Get away from the door, Charlie." 

"Kirby! It's me!" Charlie whimpered with desperate pleas. 

Kirby had tears in her eyes, voice strained as she ordered him. "Get away from the door, Charlie!" 

Charlie's bloody hand slid down the glass as he cried out, "It's me! P-Please, Kirby! It's meee-" He whined the last part in a desperate sob. 

Kirby shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as her voice cracked. And in the tiniest, crackling voice she told him. "...I'm sorry, I can't…" 

You saw the struggle on Kirby's face. Trust no one…This could be a set up to make you trust her completely. You just stood back away from the door or windows with your knife ready. Back against the wall. Nothing behind the wall. Trust no one.

Charlie stepped away from the door into the porch light's view. "What the fuck?!" He yelled in outrage and disbelief. 

Suddenly, Ghostface appeared behind him as Kirby screamed, "LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!!" 

Killer grabbing Charlie and banging his head into the glass right over the bloody handprint he left. Smearing blood on the glass before dragging him away into the dark…

You and Kirby looked taken aback, both staring helplessly…Then suddenly, whoever was doing this shut off the outside light. It was pitch black both outside and in the room now as your eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding you. Back against the wall as you swallowed hard and tried to get your mind in survival mode. 

And then…The lights turned on outside to see Charlie tied to a chair…So similar to the report of Steven Oarth's body found or that friend of the girl that worked for Randy. 

"Leave him alone!!" Kirby yelled, banging on the glass with teary eyes. "Damnit, leave him alone!" 

You stood back and watched in disbelief. Questioning everything. How did Charlie get tied up so easily? Was Kirby faking it? Where the hell is Jill? Where's Trevor? And now, you have no phone to call 911…It was on the roof…Then again, you called multiple times in 1996 that awful night and they didn't show up till a fire broke out...Apparently one body on fire in a leaf pile isn't enough. You felt cornered on your own here. The only thing driving you was to kill this Ghostface and find who they were. Honestly, at this point, in that order. Anyone dumb enough in this situation to run at you with that mask on deserved beat or stabbed and feel guilty about it later.

You saw Charlie bound and gagged in that chair. And you just stood in the darkness of the room helplessly watching. 

Kirby's phone rang. Charlie's contact as she answered. In the silence of the room, you could hear the Ghostface's voice on the line talk to Kirby. 

"Tell YN heads are gonna roll tonight! Tell YN this is all because of her! Or maybe she wants to take his place? I promise to be quick." 

You gritted your teeth hearing the sadistic excitement in their voice. Oh how much you wanted to yank that phone out of Kirby's hand and tell them to stop being a coward and come get you then…But you knew better. Instead, you whispered to Kirby, "Keep them talking." You knew it was most likely one of them or both of them…But it could be an outside influence, someone not necessarily in the group just like Neil was. 

Kirby tearily nodded as she sucked in a breath to keep Ghostface on the line as you snuck out of the dark room. 

—-------------------------------------

Kirby stood there as you left, shaking like a leaf. "Please, let him go." 

"I hear you like horror movies, Kirby. But do you like them as much as him?...Forget watching Stab. You get to live it!" 

Kirby's eyes widened, "No! Nononono, he's the expert, not me!" As she locked eyes with Charlie who struggled against his ties. 

"Warm up question: Jason's weapon?" 

Kirby fumbled at first in her fear stricken state. "Uuhhh, it's a machete." She released a small sniffle and touched her head.

"There, ya see? You do know the genre." The voice is entirely too sweet. Mocking her before snapping. "Michael Myers?!" 

"Uh, butcher knife." 

"Leatherface?!" 

"A Chainsaw! Please!" Kirby answered faster, desperate to save her friend as a small sob escaped her. 

"Just ask YN if you need some help. Freddy Krueger?!" 

"Uh, uh. Razor hands!" 

"Name the movie that started the Slasher craze. Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Last House on the Left, or Psycho?" 

"Psycho!" Kirby growled out through her teeth before the voice aggressively cut her off as Kirby kept pacing the doors window looking at Charlie. 

"NONE of the above! Peeping Tom 1960 directed by Michael Powe; first movie to ever put the audience in the killer's POV!" 

"Wha-" Kirby's breath caught in her throat as she clutched her head. "What? Please! Nononono, please just ask me one more question, just one more!" 

"...Alright Kirby. Then it's time for your last chance question …" The voice so sinister on the other line as Kirby softly cried to herself. "Name the remake of the groundbreaking horror movie in which the villain-" 

"Uh Halloween-" Kirby shook her head while frantically going over every horror remake she knew. "Texas Chainsaw, Dawn of the Dead, Hills have.. Eyes-" She scrunched her face forcing this out while trying to scrap her brain for every last straw she could grasp. "Uh Amityville horror, Last House on the Left, F-Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, My Bloody Valentine, When a Stranger Calls, Prom Night, Black Christmas, House of Wax, The Fog, Uh…Uh Piranha!...It's one of those, right? Right?!" She demanded while staring out the window at Charlie. 

…The line went dead silent. Everything stopped as the line was quiet, no attacks, no taunts. 

"I was right?" Kirby gritted her teeth to go outside. "I was fucking right." 

She opened the door, looked around, before rushing to her bound friend. "Hold on Charlie." She removed his tape from his mouth as he gasped and groaned at the feeling. Kirby quickly worked on untying him as she spoke. "He tried to trick me but I fucking won!" She smiled a bit as she got his hands free. Looking cautiously around herself in the dark as she tried to get the tape undone on his wrists and ankles. She helped him up and told him, "It's gonna be okay! It's-" 

"Kirby." He said her name like it was a chore. "This is making a move." 

Kirby gasped as she felt searing pain…A knife Charlie had hidden plunging deep into her abdomen. She choked on tears and air…And her eyes darted to the blood on his white shirt that he claimed was from an attack by the killer…It shifted as he stabbed and she saw a bloody gauze thickly wrapped up where the blood had soaked through from earlier…From us shooting him in the barn…She remembered him acting odd, noticing him wincing a bit when he sat down earlier but she thought it was nerves from stress…My God…It really was Charlie. 

He killed his best friend Robbie. He stole Robbie's Dad's Crossbow. He stabbed Gale. He killed Randy Meeks…It was him.

Kirby's teary eyes looked at him desperately for an answer to the madness as she choked on her sobs of pain. He jerked it back out. 

"Four years of classes and now you notice me?! All those times at the video store that you could talk Randy's ear off about horror movies like he's a fucking Messiah of horror while ignoring me?! All those years of teasing and leading me on in the friendzone and now you care?!" He demanded with angry tears in his own eyes as Kirby gripped his shoulder in pain gasping for air with wide eyes. Charlie yelled before plunging it back in her again. "Stupid bitch! It's too late!!" 

Charlie gripped onto Kirby as her body went lax. Tears and choked whimpers escaping her as the pain felt like shocks coursing through her. 

Charlie shhed her as he held her in a soft voice, "Shh, shhh. I know, I know. It's okay, take your time…Doesn't happen as fast in real life as it does in the movies, I know." 

He smirked a bit as Kirby could do nothing but feel pain as the shock of all this slapped her in the face… 

"C-C-Charlie…" 

He brutally killed Olivia to look like Tatum's death. He hosted the party. He massacred Randy. Stabbed Gale. Set his so-called best friend on fire…Now? He was stabbing her to death and killing their entire friend group plus YN. 

"Just like Sidney Prescott …Shh…I bet she suffered in that house, huh? Stab had her die instantly but I bet she gasped in pain too when Billy plunged his knife in her." He softly told Kirby. 

He then whispered something in Kirby's ear that made her eyes widen…

Kirby choked out pained gasps before Charlie shook his head and shoved Kirby off his knife to let her lay on the ground. Taking gasping breaths like a fish out of water as a pool of blood.

Charlie looked close to crying and ran a hand through his long hair while he stalked back to the house. The night wasn't over. 

—--------------------------------------

You tried to look for Jill, Trevor, your phone but couldn't find any. You put your small knife back getting  a much bigger one off the counter…Kitchen knife in hand and backup knife in your boot.

You came downstairs, that front door still open as you rounded the corner.   Opening the door to the bottom level Kirby was at last…But stopped yourself from calling out to her. It was too quiet…You wanted this Ghostface dead or caught. Wanted to help these kids. But everything in you screamed get in the car and get away. 

You took a steadying breath and backed up the stairs a few steps. Knife in hand, eyes darting before someone grabbed you in a chokehold so tight you gagged as your knife clattered down the steps and you were jerked backwards.

Charlie's arm had you in a tight grip with his knife at your face. Blood staining his white shirt…And he seemed in pain with the arm he was holding you with. Blood on the shoulder you shot. 

…You knew it. 

He was pressed against a wall as he mumbled in your ear, “You know you learn a lot when you watch movies over and over. All the plots are about to ridicule you…Think you're gonna get away? Think anyone gets away?” His lips near your ear as you gritted your teeth and slammed him back against a wall. 

As soon as he hit the wall he let you go and you grabbed your knife from your boot as you went to run out the door. You were getting out. You were outnumbered now. Just until help got here. 

…But you got intercepted…When someone plunged a knife deep into your stomach.

You had been shot and stabbed but never in your gut like that. It knocked the wind from you, your body freezing up in pain as you fell back against the staircase wall. A choking gasp escaped your lips as you clutched your stomach. You went to slash at them, jolted by the pain you felt the second you moved your arm as it radiated down to your abdomen. Ghostface easily smacked that small knife out of your hand.

It clattered to the ground feet away and you felt all air leave your lungs.

The Ghostface came towards you, lowering their knife before taking off that damn mask you learned to resent…

Long dark hair cascaded out first followed by a fair complexion and a smirk on full pink lips…And your mouth dropped.

…Jill.

You shook your head. Shocked because she wasn't even on Randy's radar. And then your face soured as you realized this was just a decade ago all over again. Another one of Sidney's family is either jealous or wanting revenge.

“Hello, Yn…” She tilted her head with a smirk. “Surprised?” 

She got inside her mask to show a small camera. “See this? This is the part where the cameras…” It beeped as she held it up smugly. “Turn off.” 

“Good.” Was the only thing you heard before a man's hand jerked her by the head and slammed her forehead against the staircase railing as she screamed in pain and anger. Billy had a firm grip on her hair.

“Jill!” Charlie went to defend her before Stu grabbed him by the throat and jerked him back.

 “Where you goin’?” Stu taunted. Knife jerking back ready to stab Charlie repeatedly at a moment's notice. “After party's just starting man. Pretty lame if you ask me. Mine was a rager.” Stu jeered with an insane grin.

You couldn't help the relieved smile as you clutched your bleeding abdomen…They actually came back for you. They heard your call and came back.

The sound of a knife jerking out of a pocket sounded as Billy readied his hunting knife. Jill cursed and struggled. “Time to join the other idiots.” He murmured.

Stu grinned, “Hell yeah, man! Number one, baby! We'll always be the one-” 

Right when Billy went to plunge his knife into Jill's side she jerked with a scream as he barely got her…Before a gunshot ran out and you saw Stu jerk back with a shocked expression on his face.

Charlie pulled out a gun leveled it behind him shooting again as Stu got shot right in his rib area jerking back from it before Charlie went to shoot again and Stu tripped backwards over a spare chair landing through the glass sliding door with enough force to fall through it.

“Motherfucker!” Billy hissed out ready to slit Jill's throat and Charlie quickly pointed the gun at us; grabbed us by the back of the neck.

Damn…This has happened too many times before.

“Let her go…Or YN dies.” Charlie mumbled, nervously licking at his lips as he fidgeted with you in his grip. You went to struggle, trying to elbow him and Charlie shoved it to your temple as you groaned in pain.

Billy really considered…He glared, Jill still in his grasp. Until Jill stabbed him in the leg. He yelled, accidentally letting her go as he clutched his thigh.

Charlie jerked you into the kitchen as Jill hissed, seeing a bit of blood where Billy barely stabbed her side before she kicked him to follow Charlie and You. “Move, asshole!” 

Billy growled in his throat as he readied his knife to stab the ever loving hell outta her before Charlie pointed his gun at him while still having a painful grip on you. “You heard her.”

Billy looked ready to take the risk, not one to back down but hearing Stu groaning in pain among the shattered pieces of glass on the porch and you yelping when Charlie shoved you with too much force into the counter. Right where your stab wound was…He relented. 

Walking as Jill told him. “Give me the knife.” 

“Bite me, bitch.” Billy scoffed. 

Charlie threatened with the gun again. “Come on, what's a knife gonna do with a gun anyways? Try to think.” 

Billy scowled before dropping the knife.

Jill smirked. “Not totally stupid. Now walk.” She ordered shoving him as Billy dragged himself forward with her knife leveled at him and her pocketing his for now. 

Jill called out Charlie's name as he forced Billy to stand beside you near the kitchen counter. “Already taken care of.” Charlie told her while shutting doors and she stood near you both with the knife. 

“Get that other douchebag for the line up.” She ordered.

Charlie went to Stu dragging him through glass by his ankles as Stu groaned in pain, teeth clenched. His shirt too dark and bloody to tell where he was shot before Charlie heaved him with a groan and shoved him up to stand. Then shoving him near the counter as Stu tried to swing on him and missed. Just hissing in pain as he caught himself next to Billy, and to your surprise, Billy instinctively reached out to steady him.

Charlie blew air past his lips with a smirk and showed a camera from his pocket. “Damn, he's a big boy, huh Jill?…And guess what? I got great footage of my Robbie kill. Better than Marnie or Olivia even.” 

“Good. We'll cut and upload it later to make it all traceable to Trevor.” Jill replied with the knife near your face.

You panted in pain while Billy stood near you leaning on the counter. His dark eyes scanning the room for any way to get leverage. Stu gripped the counter, sweating but looking murderously at both teens holding you all hostage right now.

If Charlie didn't have that gun? This would've been over with both of them dead. If YOU had your goddamn gun this could've been over before Billy and Stu even got here!

You stared at Jill, seething once the shock wore off realizing the last few days you and Randy were so nice to her; you were talking to the killer all along. Her and Charlie didn't seem to recognize Billy and Stu or if they did they weren't saying.

“Speaking of which-” Charlie opened the doors to the closet and dragged out Trevor who he threw on the ground bound and gagged with tape.

“Remind you of anything?” Charlie retorted towards you.

Yeah, did it ever. Only this time Billy and Stu were just as much victims as you were.

Charlie ripped the tape off as Trevor begged, “Jill pleas-” 

“Shut up!” She cut him off with a yell as she stripped herself of the Ghostface robe.

Charlie got closer towards you, blood on him. “See everything I learned I learned from you.” 

Stu shoved him away. “Get the fuck away from her, man.” He growled out in pain but this was a man that took so many stabbings when younger and still attacked you and flipped you both over a couch. 

Charlie scoffed but he knew who had the power right now as he smirked. But…He looked at Stu longer. Almost trying to connect the dots. 

Jill brought Charlie back as she mumbled, “Who are these guys anyways? Don't tell me they're your side pieces or something.” Jill jeered with a malicious smirk as you all said nothing. “You think my cousin Sidney had a shitty boyfriend, YN!? Here's one that fucks you, dumps you…And doesn't even make you famous.” She gave a wry smirk before kicking Trevor in his shoulder as he cried out.

Billy's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared at hearing Jill was his old girlfriend's cousin. You could tell he wanted to kill her that much more. 

Trevor cried out, “The fuck, Jill!? I loved you!” 

Jill rolled her eyes, “Shut the fuck UP already!” Before kicking him multiple times as he yelled out in pain each blow.

Stu mumbled to Billy and you, “Mean ass girl, isn't she?” Sarcastically while he huffed and held his side in pain.

Billy asked, "How you holding up?"

"By my last bit of skin, man...Fuck. He got me in the side and lower belly." Stu huffed out in a wince.

"Fuck." Billy scoffed. "...You know what to do still?

Stu smirked, "Yeah..."

Charlie gave the gun to Jill, “I'm sure the cops would want you to have this, Jill. For your protection.” 

The second that gun wasn't aimed, Billy and Stu tried to charge Charlie for it. Their street smarts and instincts ready to attack in pain or not but before they could Jill stabbed you in the gut again and the most strangled cry escaped you. It hurt your throat to scream with such a primal pain and it instantly made Billy and Stu falter just enough for Charlie to aim the gun at them.

You cried, tears in your eyes at that god awful pain as you clutched your lower gut. 

Jill glared, “Do that shit again and I'll stab her in the throat.” She tilted her head. “Who are you anyways? Shouldn't you both be dead?” 

Billy and Stu had no choice but to back off. And when Jill said that…Charlie's entire demeanor changed. 

“Oh my God…No way…I-I thought you looked familiar but-” Charlie drew out like some star struck fan.

Jill's eyes widened too before she laughed loudly. “Shut the fuck up!...No way, Gale was right? Gale Weather's was actually right about you, YN!?” 

You sniffed back tears, gritting your teeth in contempt but not answering her. 

Charlie pointed the gun to each of them. “Bill Loomis…And Stu Macher. It's such a privilege to meet you two in the flesh!” 

Billy sneered at him, “Great, another dick rider.” He grumbled under his breath. 

Jill chuckled, “I can't believe it.” As even Trevor looked flabbergasted from the floor. “Wow, YN…Little Miss American Sweetheart is actually a treacherous lying snake. I mean, hiding two of the famous Woodsboro killers under everyone's nose and ruining Gale Weather's career over it?...Under different circumstances I'd applaud you.” 

Charlie looked momentarily freaked out. “Jill…Jill, what are we gonna do I mean…This changes our plans! I-” 

Jill took his gun. “Shhhh.” She softly told him in a way to calm him down. “It'll still work, Baby. Remember? I'm YN and you're Randy…Now, Trevor doesn't have to be Billy. We can work with this. I mean, who is going to question who the killers were with Billy and Stu here?” 

Charlie's breath hitched as he forced a smile. “And this time, Randy gets the girl.” 

She kissed him. Looking at you with the gun pointed the entire time.

Stu and Billy sneered. And the idea hit you. Charlie…Charlie you shot Charlie in the barn. He wants to be the ‘new Randy’...He was jealous and killed Randy because Randy got Kirby's attention, Randy was the movie expert, Randy was a cool nerd in school unlike Charlie. 

You shook your head in disgust. “You'll never be Randy…Do you hear me? He was better than you in every fucking way!” You forced out through tears and clenched teeth. They stopped kissing as you practically snarled at Jill. “And you will never be me! You're nothing but a jealous attention seeking litt-” 

You cried out as she pistol whipped you upside the face hard enough to jerk your head and taste blood in your mouth. Billy and Stu had to stop themselves from lunging at her, remembering the gun.

Jill looked at you with a glare as you coughed and wiped blood off your lip. Swearing she just knocked out a tooth. 

“Don't you get it? You're old news.” She gave plainly. 

You stood back up, blood on the corner of your lip as you tiredly clutched your stomach.

Trevor cried out from on the floor, “Jill, baby! Please, this isn't you!” 

Jill gave him a bored look. Leveling the gun at him and holding the knife towards you. You swore she was gonna shoot him but instead…She looked at Charlie.

“Charlie…Ya know, now with us being able to pin this on thee Billy Loomis and Stu Macher…Trevor's role can change. We don't need another Billy or Stu…But we need a James. I mean, every final girl needs some fucked up shit to happen to her like her boyfriend being mutilated. Media will eat that up.” 

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. 

Charlie even faltered a moment. 

Jill glared at him. “Do not chicken out on me now, Charlie!” 

Charlie just shook his head swallowing. “Not chickening out…Just gotta make sure we film this. Are we good on time?” He started putting the Ghostface outfit back on.

Jill smiled, “Oh yeah, we're perfect.” 

Trevor looked terrified and so did you as Charlie quickly threw Jill's outfit on, getting the mask off the counter and turned the inner camera on. He dropped down to Trevor and slid the knife threatenly over his neck. 

“D-Don't!” You begged on deaf ears as Trevor gave a blood curdling scream as Charlie started doing what Billy and Stu did to your boyfriend back in 1996 in that field. Billy and Stu seemed both unfazed or annoyed at best while you closed your eyes and covered your ears screaming over Trevor, “STOP IT!!” 

The sounds of him screaming in pain, flesh being ripped as Charlie pulled while sawing, the smell of blood. You felt ready to scream yourself as Billy to your shock drew you near with a hand on your shoulder protectively so you didn't do something stupid like lash out. Him and Stu watched the whole time. While this was the one traumatic thing that happened to you indirectly that you thankfully didn't see even if James was a shitty boyfriend. You closed your eyes and Billy had a death grip on you. You felt sick whether from bloodlose or this was debatable.

You shakily looked when the screams died down and wished you hadn't. Seeing Trevor bloody and half his face skinned off as he seemed to tremble and writhe as his body went into shock from the pain. You wanted to pass out or throw up and knowing Billy and Stu gleefully did this that night while calling you and…And hearing James sobbing and begging you to help him.

Billy's grip tightened on your shoulder as if he knew. His eyes narrowed. Stu tried inching towards a door and Jill shot the gun near the door as everyone flinched or ducked.

She said nothing, not wanting her voice on camera. As Charlie peeled his face the rest of the way off then stabbed him from sternum to groin as he choked and jerked and spasmed in pain on the floor.

And Jill just numbly watched…Watched a boy that loved her get this done to him.

Charlie took off the mask and shut off the camera with a bewildered smirk. “Holy shit…That was awesome.” He held up Trevor's face. “Hey, YN; wanna reenact TCM 2?” And tried to threatenly put Trevor's face on yours as you instinctively hid in Billy's chest. Trying to face away with an uncharacteristic whimper at what you were just forced to see. Like you were a scared teen girl all over again.

“I will staple that face to yours if you even try it! It'll be one hell of an improvement!” Stu jeered and weakly shoved him back as Billy put an arm over you.

 However, Billy gripped you and forced you to turn around. You knew it was his way of silently telling you to be strong and you forced yourself to not look at Trevor or the face in Charlie's hand and instead glared at Jill. Feeling weak with blood loss and yet you had so much hate for her. 

Jill smiled, “Now THAT is going to get views.” She looked at you. “See with you the world just heard about what happened but with us…They're gonna see it. It's gonna be a worldwide sensation. I mean, people gotta see this shit!” Jill chuckled. “It's not like anyone reads anymore.” 

Charlie took off the glove and showed you guys a video of…Of Randy being killed. Of him on the ground backpedaling with an arrow in him. All alone in the dark. 

“No please! Don't-” He got cut off choking in pain as he was stabbed repeatedly. “D-Don't hurt them…Don't hurt my kids and wife…D-D-Don't hurt YN…Please-” He pleaded with blood near his mouth before screaming in pain again as Charlie stabbed him repeatedly and the video cut off…To a close up of him hanging…Still twitching barely alive as he hung there…Guts out.

Tears welled in your eyes as your breathing got shallow. You were trembling with so much rage and mind shattering devastation. Seeing your best friend in his final moments tonight in pain begging for his life…For yours even after your argument. Even after everything he didn't hate you.

“...I'm gonna kill you…You goddamn pieces of shit…” You forced out shakily through your teeth as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!” Billy and Stu had to jerk you back, Billy the least injured having you in almost a headlock before you got shot. 

Jill laughed, “God, you are so dramatic! So that goody two shoes love and peace for all; is that some PR move or-” She mocked as Billy jerked you and you were trying to fight him even in ungodly pain to get to her or Charlie.

“Stop! Now!” Billy ordered in your ear. “...We'll get them…” He reassured while still holding you back as you stopped struggling and glared daggers at them both tears rolling down your face.

Charlie informed you. “Stole Robbie's Dad's crossbow. I mean that guy on Walking Dead just gave me major ideas and Robbie also…Lured Randy back to the party by recording you and Kirby. Poor kid had no idea he was helping me get Randy tonight. Jill took care of things at her house and Kirby's phone.” 

You could only glare at him.

Jill told you. “We're gonna have fame you never even dreamed of.” 

Charlie looked at Jill in adoration. “You were the perfect victim, Jill.” 

Jill laughed like a teen girl getting away with sneaking out past curfew while Trevor bled out on the floor. “I was SO believable today, wasn't I? I mean, I told so many lies that I actually started to believe them…I really think that I was born for this.” 

Stu huffed, looking tired and woozy himself. “Congratulations.” He sarcastically monotoned. 

You got away from Billy as he let you go and you demanded weakly, “How could you do this?...Sidney-” 

“Shut up!” Jill demanded, her smiling dropping. “Do you even know what it was like in this family being related to Sidney Prescott?! Sidney this and Sidney that and Sidney, Sidney, Sidney! She was always just SO FUCKING SPECIAL!” She screeched.  “And then you…” She pointed the knife at you. “I hated you just as much. What? You survive bad luck and get all this attention? Big house somewhere, never have to work, all these interviews and book deals because your life was hard?...You had your 15 minutes of fame NOW I WANT MINE!” She yelled.

Billy groaned as Stu tiredly mumbled to him. “Told you. Fame. You owe me 50 bucks.” 

You ignored them and stared at her, shaking your head mumbling. “You'll slip. They always do.” 

Jill gave a wry smirk, looking back at Billy and Stu who technically did get away with it before saying, “Come on Charlie, let's get this over with.” 

Stu was losing a lot of blood and so were you as you both gripped the counters and Billy wasn't able to run. You all were pretty much sitting ducks right now.

Charlie handed Jill the knife. He started breathing puffs of air out of his mouth, bouncing on his feet as Jill told him loudly, “You've gotta be strong…And hold still! Okay?” 

He nervously breathed, “Old School, like Billy and Stu.” 

Billy made a face and Stu despite his condition let out a mocking laugh. Billy added over Stu's laughter, “That's right, real deep too. Don't be pussies now in front of your idols-”  

Charlie closed his eyes saying “Come on, get it up-” Before slapping himself across the face multiple times.

Stu laughed silently hanging his head and leaning on the counter for support.

You stood there thinking you felt like you were in a Twilight Zone right now or a damn insane asylum from back in the day while Stu and Billy had sadistic grins on their faces eager to see some ‘fan’ that gave them injuries get stabbed.

Charlie smacked his shoulder shakily yelling at Jill, “Shoulder me, shoulder me! Come on! GET IT UP-” 

You gasped with a slight satisfaction yourself when Jill plunged the knife right into his chest. Billy went from watching with interest to smirking with a dark look in his eye and Stu through his sweat and pain grinned ear to ear.

Charlie choked a gasp, holding his bleeding chest. “The heart?!- T-That's not how we rehearsed it!” 

You finally spoke with an edge to your voice. “You said it. Billy and Stu…If Trevor became James. And Robbie was supposed to be Stu…” 

Jill smirked to herself seeing it dawn on Charlie. She told him, “I know it's going against the script…But this is a franchise. Not a remake. And what the media loves is a sole survivor.” She whispered cruelly. “Robbie was your partner. Both of you jealous little outcasts but you…You were the idea man.” 

She plunged the knife in again as Charlie gasped harshly falling to his knees. Hyperventilating as he bled. Shock written all over his face before collapsing in a pathetic heap on the ground. 

You didn't care if it made you a monster too…There was some satisfaction. Especially when you remembered what he showed you on that phone. “You'll never be Randy, Charlie.” Was the last thing you said as Stu almost gave a little hollar of glee and Billy chuckled under his breath watching Charlie be betrayed and now only seconds from dying.

You glanced at Jill holding your stomach and like Stu things were getting blurry for you. “So…You killed all your friends…Now what?” You asked the bigger picture of what happens when all this is said and done.

Jill glared at you. “My Friends?” 

She walked up to you and Billy and Stu tensed up a bit. It was 3 against 1. 2 grown men, a grown woman and one teen girl…Problem was 1 grown man looked ready to pass out, the grown woman wasn't far behind him, the other grown man had a fucked up leg now that couldn't move as fast and the little teen bitch from hell still had the gun.

“What world are you living in? I don't need friends, I need fans ….DON'T YOU GET IT!?” She snapped at you. “This has never been about killing you…This is about becoming you. I mean for fucksake all my friends and boyfriend had to die.” 

“And your mother?” You asked, trying to be brave but staring crazy in the face again after so long…Worked on your mind.

“Collateral damage.” She mused with nothing in her dark eyes…Just nothing. “That's sick right? Well, sick is the new sane.” She whispered with a small smile eyeing you.

Even Billy and Stu didn't kill their own parents.

“You had your 15 minutes now I WANT MINE!” She yelled in your face. “I mean, what am I supposed to do? Go to college, grad school, work? Look around. We're all in the public eye now, we're all on the internet…How do you think people become famous anymore!? You don't have to achieve ANYTHING!” She gestured to you. “You just gotta have fucked up shit happen to you.” 

You stared at her in shock at her logic of wanting to be you. To have your life. To want to be the victim, to want to have people whisper about you or treat you horribly or treat you like glass. To have a target on your back forever.

All of this…ALL of this pain…Because some brat wanted attention and to get by easy in life?

Billy and Stu looked just as bewildered as you. Stu finally gave a humorously dry chuckle while trying to breathe, still holding his wounds. “I mean…Okay idea but-” 

She instantly shot him.

You froze as Stu got shot somewhere in the abdomen and went flying back. Billy went to lunge at Jill and got shot as well. He growled in pain and hit the counter. Wincing and slipping on his bloody palms trying to keep himself up. Stu laid limply and you tried not to hyperventilate at how messed up this was becoming because of one damn girl. Stu groaned on the ground coughing as he weakly held himself.

Jill laughed, “I WAS going to kill you all and blame Charlie and Trevor or Charlie and Robbie but now?...No…I think it doesn't matter if these two idiots live. Great! Because no one will question it. NO ONE. Billy Loomis and Stu Macher survived? They clearly did this and almost killed a poor innocent girl after slaughtering her friends.” 

You shook your head with fearful tears in your eyes. Billy glared daggers at her sneering, “You dumb little fuck…You think I'm going down after 15 years?!” He grabbed a kitchen knife and took the risk of throwing it. 

It went right into the arm that held the gun as she screamed and he instantly with his adrenaline pumping tried to grab it…You went for it too this time to help him instead of the other few times.

You gasped as a sharp painful cry escaped him…Jill stabbed him in the abdomen and jerked sideways. 

“Billy!-” You went to attack her too, hoping for an opening. ANYTHING! You were gonna die and-

She jerked the knife out of her arm with an almost enraged scream and stabbed you when you least expected it. She made it look like you had an opening to grab that gun and maybe you did? But her determination was just that much stronger.

She plunged the knife deep into you as you saw Billy had tried to get up multiple times and kept slipping while trying to hold his own wound close and slumped down gasping for air…Stu wasn't moving from what you could see…And you just got stabbed again. Deep. Blood spurted over your hand. This felt higher than before.

“Sorry, there's only room for one final girl and let's face it…Your time's up.” She looked so pleased with herself. So giddy as you collapsed onto your stomach.

You laid there trembling, barely breathing with your eyes wide open in fear. You heard footsteps seeing Jill walking away.

Billy looked just as bad but your eyes locked with each other on the kitchen floor. “B-B-Bill-” You couldn't even get his name out.

He shhed you. Cringing and as quietly as he could gritted his teeth to drag himself over to you as Jill started going ahead and hurting herself…Absolutely trying to kill herself by stabbing you hitting her head on a glass picture frame while yelling in pain. Trying to make it all look like she was brutally attacked.

Billy shhed you again when tears started falling from your eyes…After so long of being numb…You didn't wanna die. 

“I'm…I'm scared…Billy-” You just admitted it. Trembling like a scared child while bleeding out on the ground. Things were getting harder to focus on as he laid next to you on his back to keep his guts from pressing against the gash. 

You never thought you'd ever give him the satisfaction. Not at that shed, not in your house, not in the closet, Stu's house, Windsor, the motel- Never thought you'd give him the satisfaction of admitting you were scared of dying but you were.

Your hand trembled uncontrollably and he shhed you again. Weakly telling you, “Hey…Shh…It's alright…Don't cry, she'll hear you. If she stabs us in the head or throat or heart we're done, kid.” 

You shook your head trying not to sob as your head felt like you were gonna faint. 

“You're tough. Okay?...You can do this…You've always been a tough bitch to beat…I should know…Don't let that brat win. Don't let me or Stu win either…” He told you with heavy tired eyes. His head lolling to the side to gaze at you. Both of you held eye contact before he reached out and so did you.

“Billy…I-...I never meant…I always wanted-” You knew what you wanted to say but…Getting it out.

He stopped you with another soft shh and held your hand. He held it tight. His own fear of dying present but his urge to put on a brave face for his ego…For you too; was stronger. It's like he knew what you meant and he released a soft breath of air as if a giant weight was off his shoulders.

“Mine…” He mumbled with a small tired smile. “You've always been mine…” And then his eyes just…Closed.

Mark entered your mind and you couldn't control the small whimper as you trembled Jill crashing into things in the background.

“...Billy?” You whispered. Trying to move but couldn't as you held his hand so tight it hurt. “Billy, wake up. Please…” You whimpered as you were so tired…So so tired.

The last thing you saw was black…And glass shattering as Jill threw herself on the coffee table…And then sirens outside.

#finally #scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #fours a franchise #scream 4

[calmlyerratic]

Encounters of the Future Sort

Chapter 1: Disappearing Cauldrons is Never a Good Sign

by @calmlyerratic

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Read it here on Ao3.

Fic Summary: AU & headcanon-oriented time travel. A freak cauldron explosion leads the Marauders hurtling forward into the future where they come into contact with Harry and friends. Alternating POV's. Anything is possible. Lots of shenanigans, but also an emotional rollercoaster. Silly, Jily, and Wolfstar. Read full summary here.

chapter wc: 2.3k — rating: T — cw: none

Notes: 1976 Timeline—takes place before the willow prank and Snape's worst memory, both of which happened in the spring of 1976. That's all I'll give away for now, happy reading :)

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April 1st, 1976

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was twinkling through the lofty clouds, casting rays of warmth on the freshly thawed spring grounds of Hogwarts. Most students were outside, lounging along the banks of the Black Lake and enjoying this sudden heat wave.

But if someone just happened to journey up to the school's seventh floor, their nose would detect the foul stench rotten eggs, and their eyes would see through the fog that was consuming the corridor, and they would be led to a room that could be found only if you knew where it was. And in this room, they would discover four boys hovering over a giant, brass cauldron.

"Shut up Moony! We're fine."

"I agree with Prongs—shove it."

"No one cares what you think Padfoot!"

"Ouch, Moony. And I didn't realize words could bruise..."

"Oh—sod off. It's not my fault that you two have some absurd death wish."

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew had been bickering for the better part of the past hour. Each had a curious bubble around their heads to protect them from the horrid smell of the simmering potion.

"Stoke the fire a little, will you Wormtail? Prongs—what's next?" Sirius set a long wooden stirring spoon on a bed of parchment, serving as a makeshift spoon rest, and adjusted his dragonhide gloves. "Your hands are so tiny, Wormy. I dunno how you wear these."

Peter had drawn his wand from the pocket of his robes and murmured, "Incendio." He then held up his hands, inspecting them. "Do I?"

"No, Padfoot just has long delicate fingers." Remus huffed as he eyed the spoon anxiously, his eyes flickering between the thick, murky greenish contents of the cauldron to the spoon rest that was turning an odd, startling red as liquid seeped through the ivory parchment. "Why are we doing this again? This isn't even close to proper procedure..."

"Oh, just relax Moony," Sirius flexed his fingers in Peter's gloves and stretched his arms leisurely. "You did say we needed some extra potions practice for our O.W.L.'s."

Remus rolled his eyes. "I meant you should ask Slughorn for some extra lessons, or something. Not attempt to brew a complicated and potentially fatal potion! You do know that I'm a Prefect and this is exactly the kind of thing I'm supposed to prevent?"

"But you're here aren't you?" James pointed out, grinning mischievously. He was sprawled over a table, leafing through several different ancient, thickly bound books.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't blow yourselves up," Remus stood in exasperation and began pacing.

"We'd be simply unhinged without your supervision," Sirius bit his lip to hold back a grin.

Remus glared at Sirius, who raised an eyebrow and winked. Remus flushed slightly, crossed his arms, and sat back down, muttering.

"Okay," James checked his watch, "we're getting close now."

"What next?" Peter asked, pinching his nose through the bubble charm. "The smell's getting worse, we've got to be almost finished? We've been working on this for months now—"

"Months?" Remus was alarmed. "Wait, I thought you said—"

"No time, Moony," James was scanning through the colossal books, a frown on his face. "In this book, Potions for the Potentially Challenged, it says to add one additional scoop of lacewing flies. But in this one, If You Can Brew it, You Can Do It...calls for three scoops total. We already did one yesterday when we added the unicorn hair—"

"Unicorn hair? Where are you getting these books?" Remus peered over at them discerningly, as though to check their authenticity.

"My father's library," Sirius shrugged. "Nicked them when I left."

"You're in way over your heads," Remus massaged his eyes shut.

"If you care so much about our safety, you should really be the one doing this, Moony. You know the rest of us are all dead awful at potions." James pointed out, turning a page and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his long nose.

"Yeah, but you insist on being the high and mighty Prefect instead." Sirius shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You know, the more I think about it, your position of ensuring safety is truly more of a hazard."

"Safety equals safety hazard," Remus moved a finger in midair like he was solving a complicated arithmancy equation. "Check."

"Okay, we're in a time crunch here so I say we—what did you say again, Prongs?"

"Add the lacewing flies," James nodded. "Just a scoop, Wormy."

"Right," Peter passed the ingredients to Sirius, who threw them in the cauldron.

"Okay good—now stir it three times counterclockwise..." James read carefully. "And I think we've done it!"

The four boys watched the cauldron with bated breath. The thick, murky liquid began to bubble, like boiling mud. James and Sirius beamed at each other and high-fived, Remus let out a sigh of relief.

Then suddenly, despite the steady flame, the potion went very still.

"Um, is that supposed to happen?" Peter shifted nervously.

"No," James hurriedly leafed through his books. "It's supposed to...turn red, I think? No, this one says it's supposed to have a greenish tinge—"

"Great, " Sirius huffed, "we muffed it up. So much for that prank—"

"Prank?"

"Oh hush Moony, it's April 1st for Merlin's sake. Like you didn't know we weren't doing this purely for academia—"

"Hold on," Peter gazed into the cauldron, its contents casting a luminous glow over his bubblehead charm. "I think it's doing something…"

The muddy potion began to vibrate, then whole cauldron began to gently shake.

"That doesn't seem right..." James flicked through more pages.

Remus clasped his hands together. "Well, you tried. Let's call it a day?"

"No way, Moony." James stated firmly. "We've spent way too much time on this to just give up. There has to be a way to fix it..."

"Too bad you're on the outs with Evans, mate, she's Slughorn's red headed prodigy." Sirius considered, stroking his chin. "Well, she's a stickler, anyway. Hey—where are you going?"

Remus had jumped to his feet. "I'll be right back! Don't move!"

• • •

A short while later...

"It needs to be bubbling—"

"Well let's just turn up the heat then?"

"Hold on just let me read a bit more—"

"What is this place?"

Sirius squinted his eyes at this new voice and put a hand to his forehead of his bubble, like a crow's nest lookout on a foggy evening. "Evans?'

James head shot up from his reading and he ran a hand through his untidy, raven hair, as if it was a reflex to hearing her name. Through the thick, vapid air covering the room, three figures approached the cauldron.

Lily Evans had her nose between two fingers. "Well we found the source of the godawful smell, ugh."

"I told you," Remus shrugged sheepishly. He glanced towards the other boys with poorly concealed guilt. The origin of this became apparent when another person stepped out of the misty shadows.

"Snevillus?" Sirius crossed his arms like he'd been mortally betrayed. "Really, Remus?"

Snape glared forcefully, like a giant sulking bat. "Lily, I told you this was a bad idea—"

"She can do what she wants, Snevillus." James glared too, his hand twitching towards his wand.

"Oh shut up, the both of you. You can bicker later," Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm only here because Remus asked me."

"Look, this is beyond me—that cauldron is dangerous." Remus drew his shoulders back with as much dignity as he could muster, given he was revealing their secret shenanigans to the Marauder's worst enemy. "Lily and Snape are the best in our year at potions, and you know it."

"Yeah, real Slug Club royalty." Sirius scoffed.

"We have it under control," James insisted firmly.

"This—" Lily glanced around, her voice nasally from pinching her nose, "does not look under control. Or smell like it, either. You're smoking out the entire seventh floor."

"I think it's steam, actually." Peter offered. "It feels rather moist—"

"It's a figure of speech," Lily said shortly.

"We could smell it from the Library," Severus sneered as he waved his wand to produce a bubblehead charm.

"I can smell you from the—"

"Padfoot!" Remus warned. "It's gone too far, okay? We need to fix it. Or vanish it, or something." He turned to Lily. "What do you suggest?"

Lily waved her wand and produced a bubblehead charm too, inhaling the fresh air. She approached the cauldron and peered over the edge.

"I for one suggest," Sirius began haughtily, pointing his wand at the base of the cauldron, "that we are incredibly capable of finishing this potion ourselves. It just needs a little more heat—incendio."

The flame under the brass cauldron grew and the mucky potion began to bubble.

"There!" Sirius grinned victoriously.

"It looks just like the description..." James ran his finger along a page. "Thick, mud-like, dull green—"

"Er, P-prongs?" Peter stammered, his eyes widening. "It's bright green."

The bubbling potion had suddenly become the shade and consistency of algae and had begun to vibrate oddly again. The base of the cauldron began to shake.

"Er, Potter?" Lily was backing away from the cauldron slowly. "What kind of potion is this, exactly?"

"You imbeciles! Aguamenti!" Severus flicked his wand and a jet of water shot out of it to extinguish the flames. It didn't seem to make a difference. The cauldron was now vibrating so violently that the stone floor beneath them began to shake.

"Sev, what do we do?" Lily's eyes were wide with apprehension. "I've never vanished something this temperamental before—"

"It might settle down," Severus stood with his wand at the ready. "I removed the heat so there's no further catalyst. Let's give it a moment."

However, the cauldron continued to vibrate even more violently. The walls began to shake. The fog around them became thicker and dense—with a spectral, syrupy magic that couldn't be seen, but felt.

"I say we get the hell out of here," Sirius suggested. "Moony, you were right okay—"

The bright green algae potion suddenly turned a vibrant shade of red. Severus went rigid.

"RUN! JUST RUN!"

But it was too late. The cauldron exploded mere seconds later with a giant BOOM and the next thing the Marauders, Lily, and Severus knew, they were lying face down on the hard stone floor.

"Bloody hell," Sirius groaned as he sat up, massaging his temples.

"What happened?" Peter blinked around, in a daze.

"Uggggh..." Lily was sprawled out on her back.

"You okay, Evans?" James jumped to his feet and offered her a hand.

"We all appear to be fine," Severus sneered jealously as he scrambled to his feet.

Lily glared at him as she took James' hand. "So glad chivalry isn't dead."

"Speak for yourself," Sirius grunted. "Oh, Snivellus—help a damsel out?" He batted his eyes, extending his hand gracefully.

Severus looked down and flushed. "I meant—"

"Where's the cauldron?"

All heads turned towards Remus, who stood where the cauldron had been just moments ago.

"I-it's gone." Peter stammered, biting his fingernails.

And sure enough, it was. They all stared for a moment in silence, eyes wide with shock. Disappearing cauldrons is never a good sign.

"The fog is gone too..." Remus broke the silence as he removed his bubble head charm, causing the others to do the same. "And so is the smell."

In fact, the room was totally empty. No tables or books or leftover ingredients. The cleared fog revealed the familiar structure they had willed the room to take, starkly resembling a stone dungeon classroom with slightly higher ceilings.

"Huh." James contemplated, tousling his already messy hair. "Weird."

"Yeah," Peter echoed. "Weird."

"It could be the room?" Sirius suggested. "But it usually only changes before you enter, not while you're inside it..."

"What the hell does that mean?" Lily raised an eyebrow. She had never been in the Room of Requirement before. "Never mind—I don't want to know, there's been enough surprises for one day."

Severus opened his mouth and looked like he rather did want to know but had too much dignity to ask, so he shut it again.

"Let's go, Sev." Lily turned towards the door.

"Thanks, Lily!" Remus called after her sheepishly. "I owe you one."

"You never owe me anything, Remus." Lily threw him a kind smile. "You other three better pay up, though."

Severus shot them all one last gaunt glare over his shoulder before he sauntered after Lily and into the corridor.

"Snevillus?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus, still stuck on this. "Our dear sweet Moony...why?"

"He was with Lily when I found her," Remus rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry..."

"Thank you, but your apology is kindly rejected." Sirius shook his head disapprovingly. "And you're supposed to be the discerning one—"

"In my defense, I thought you were going to blow up half the school."

"You always overreact, Moony."

"Well, something blew up!"

"Yes but we're fine, aren't we? Crises averted."

"So, you admit it was a crisis?"

"I admit you were very concerned there would be a crisis."

"If you two are done bickering like an old married couple," James tapped his foot impatiently, "I'd quite like to move on with my day."

"Too bad we wasted all that time brewing..." Peter sighed.

"Unicorn hairs aren't cheap either," James exhaled deeply. "Oh well, let's get out of here. This room feels...weird."

"You feel it too?" Remus asked, eyeing their surroundings. "I didn't want to say before—but this place reeks like powerful magic. I've never smelled anything like it."

"I don't smell anything?" Peter knit his brow and sniffed deeply.

Remus put a finger to the side of his nose. "It's a wolf thing."

"Let's go mull it over outside," James stretched his arms. "I need some time to grieve our best laid plans, and all that."

"Anyway," Sirius blew a stray hair out of his face, "what could possibly happen?"

"I dunno," Remus wrapped his hands around his elbows and shuddered. His hair was standing on end. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

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Read chapter 2 here.

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Notes: I started writing this 11 years ago and just recently rediscovered my love for the Marauders and fanfiction. Initially, I posted it on another site and was shocked to see how much love it's gotten over the years. So here we are! Rewriting this is totally healing my inner child, hope you enjoyed :)

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#james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #lily evans #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #severus snape #marauders #hp marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #hp fanfic #hp au #marauders au #the marauders #marauders era #wolfstar #hogwarts #wolfstar fic #the marauders era #marauders fandom #jily

[chalk-prnce]

You sure we're out of their sight?

in which you can't admit that you like komaeda, let alone liking a boy. warnings ; internalised homophobia, breakdowns male reader x komaeda nagito

im so sorry for never posting! i forgot all about this account and focussed on my ao3 account! but im here now so, enjoy that "Car lights" fanfic i promised but a different title.

The sun had already set, a premature twilight settling over the horizon as you stared out with the entire universe on your shoulders. Perhaps you should be more glad to get away from the city for a bit, even if you were only about 20 minutes away. Your friends proposed to all go out tonight, but you refused. You can't function properly if you don't figure yourself out and quick.

Sand crunched under your shoes as you breathed a hissing intake of air- it wasn't the best day for you today. You had drove to the nearest sea shore after a long day of battling your own disgust to something you'd rather not name. Even labelling it was shameful but tempting. If you say it aloud, usually it confirms it in your mind. For example- saying how much you love watching shitty sitcoms that you found hilarious when you were about 10 at the age of 17 going on 18 kind of seals the deal on it. A verbal contract- a shameful confirmation. 

Your tank was about one fifth filled up, and you were running on fumes of hope that it would still be able to take you to the nearest gas station after you're finished brooding. Even after being here for what felt like days, you still hadn't been able to figure yourself out. What are you really even freaking out over? What is your problem? Your dilemma? 

Komaeda Nagito. 

About a couple months ago, you two had met in the library on not the most friendly terms. However over time, you somehow managed to look past it and you two kept coming back to that same spot in the same library. 

"..Pride and Prejudice.." The ivory boy mumbled, sitting beside you as he leaned against his elbow on the table. "..You've truly never read this before? It's such a famous piece of literary artwork. One of the most famous actually.. Makes sense that someone so painfully average like you wouldn't know that."

He talks so much to you for someone who despises the very precense of the Reserve Course. "...Shut up, of course I knew about it- I just never found it interesting so I blew off reading it." 

You both scoff at eachother before sliding the book into the middle of the table and read it together, pointing out small bits of the book every now and then. 

"..I'd never fall for someone like Mr Darcy.. So cold.. so cruel. Even for money- seriously! That'd fuck me up." 

"..Well- I'd assume you wouldn't fall for someone like him- he's a boy." He let out a small laugh through his sentence- pushing you out of your thoughts. You couldn't believe you let that slip. 

"Right- nah, I'm just saying y'know. If I was a girl and liked guys, I'd never choose him." A slight awkward silence ensues after that awful slip up from you. It's only after a whole chapter does Komaeda begin to speak again.

"Would you though?"

"Would I what?"

"..You know, date a boy?"

You fiddle with the corner of the pages, sucking on your teeth before breathing out a small string of words. "..Relationships are tiring." Is all you can pull out from your mouth before going back to reading. It was an nice way of getting out of the topic. You could've easily said no- but for some reason you remained vague. 

"..That's not answering my question. Are you seriously that incompetent?" He sneered before leaning his hand on the seat of your chair, his head lulled to the side of both of you. "..Don't answer that actually, I know you are that incompetent." It was hard to tell in that moment if Komaeda was against the idea of homosexuality or not- he was always mixed signals. You open your mouth to say something; but now he was much closer, you could feel that sultry voice vibrate down your ears, and so you close your mouth and stay silent. 

"..You've gone quiet. Are you truly that stumped by my question?" He hummed, chills now digging it's needles into your back. "..I suppose it is quite the hard question, even for an Ultimate it could stump them." That's a weird thing to say, especially from the suspicious implications. 

"..You talk too much. Just keep reading." Is all you breathe out before you flip the page over and Komaeda shifts back away from your chair. The moment ends.

But it wasn't even the fact that he was in a much higher position than you- a high standing pedestal than your excuse for being a "symbol".  Perhaps you're over reacting about the wrong thing. Komaeda had a reputation for despising all reserve course's to the core. A more filthier piece of trash than him (if that was possible in his mind.) The purest scum of the Earth. You should be running for life, and you would if you were in the most rational state of mind. But you're quite obviously not. He's going to eat you alive but god you wonder how it'd be if you did so first. Laying back onto the hood of your car, you shriek out a loud groan and grip at your hair in frustration. You don't know exactly why you're so stressed over him, someone who's merely a friend. Barely, actually- more like civil accquantainces who had common interests and that was all. He despised being seen in public with you; if his classmates ever walked into the library whilst you two were there, he would quickly but quietly shuffle to another nearby table. 

In the earlier months of your accquantainceship, you would've scoffed and insulted him after they left. But now, you simply look at them crowd around as they ask how Komaeda is before leaving. You felt like a frog amongst swans, something so dirty and unfitting to be with.

Silver glints of the moon fracture over the tides, the serene scenery surrounding you was ethereal, a song for the eyes. You've been here for about 5 hours, sitting in different positions all whilst rubbing your temples or banging your forehead onto your knees. It's getting harder to ignore this, to ignore him. Why are you here? You want to go home, but it feels like an obligation to stay and sort this out before you begin to lose your head. You'd honestly rather cut off your wings so that you can not fly into the sun but rather fall into the mighty blue beasts teeth than confront these ghastly thoughts of yours. Komaeda, Komaeda, Komaeda. You've never felt more stress over a name such as his. You should be cast to the wolves for these thoughts. But what thoughts? Your head does not contain blasphemies and your mouth has not committed any heresies. So why are you so troubled? Perhaps you do know, but if you even dare mention it you'd finally commit said heresy you so very feared. You can't say it. You won't dare think it. You refuse. You won't do it. 

But you can't stop- you've already done it. You imagine how perfectly your arms would fit around him, how easily your hands could mold together and your eyes would easily find the pearls of the deep dark in eachother's irises, how wonderfully your lips would fit like a jigsaw. 

You can't remember exactly how you became enamoured by him. Perhaps it was when you accidentally let your stare linger longer than you intended. That day, Komaeda brought in a book that you could only find via an online bookstore due to it being quite a strange piece. Turns out, he was absolutely infatuated with it, and rambling about it came easy to him.

"..The Book Of Disquiet is quite the interesting read- it was never finished, but it's easy to get how the book ends. The heteronyms that Pessoa created for it was intentionally made to be...boring. I've done alot of research on him- he really delves into the whole "Terrible Paradox of Self Awareness" topic- noting to the reader that writing and doing and saying is all completely meaningless yet continues to write, do and say things." The Lucky Student trails off, flicking back and forth to pages of his notes page he did on the portugese author, explaining and going through each little bit. 

You absorbed it in like a sponge- his voice was calming and his eyes were soft as he looked at the pages like it was a puppy. His hair was falling perfectly down his face and spilling onto his shoulders, his eyes shining with a glimmer you've only seen in the stars. Komaeda's beauty could never be put to justice through photos. Not even paintings could immortalise his visage- a night sky within his eyes and the sun within his soul. It was as if you were in an trance. There was a subtle breeze in your imagination as you stared- that was until you realised that was because Komaeda was waving his hand infront of your face.

"..Hello? Are you alright?" That was a first. He doesn't ask that often. "..You seem pretty out of it. It is quite warm in here.."

"..No. I'm fine. Keep reading." And the moment ends.

In your dreams, you described it as simple infatuation, but in reality it was not as airy and feather-light as that. In your nightmares, you described it as a deadly desire, but in reality it was not as short-lived and capricious as that. But to call it anything else in your own conscious mind? You'd rather be ripped from your organs.

But you don't want to keep thinking about it. You don't think you can do it any longer in this swealtering heat of the night. It was humid, but it barely felt like any air was being circulated around the Earth. One last sigh leaves you before you get up from your indented place in the sand and wander off to your car. It was an alright car, not the best and it was used by alot of past owners but it was the best you could get at your age. You pull out your keys and make sure to shake and jingle them a bit just so you can hear the clacking against them, hoping it'd snap you out of whatever this was. Opening the door and slamming it once you're inside, you push your keys into the engine and twist. Your car moans and groans several times, and you could've sworn you felt your heart shoot down to your gut. Your repeated attempts to twist your keys and turn on the engine are almost ridiculed by the curdling screams of the exhaust. Oh, come on. How did this happen? You take great care of your car! Not a single scrape or dent or even a mere collision with any other vehicle. What happened?

Ah. Right. Your tank- it was only one fifth full. Shit.

Well, now you're stuck at this beach with more rocks than grains of sand. His luck is rubbing off on you. Great, there you go again! You always just have to find some way to mention his name even in the most dire situations. What's wrong with you? A loud bang clanks against the hood of your car from the hail that was now pouring down, mocking you as you replicate those bangs onto your steering wheel from your forehead. Atleast you had shelter from it. But you had no money to call a repair work, and almost all of your friends were out for tonight. Oh, but who else is in your contacts that IS free? 

Komaeda Nagito.

You fully groan at his name, your hands dragging the skin of your face up and down. Do you really have to resort to this? It's either him or you stay in the hail with your car as shelter on a school night. God, and who knows how many assignments you probably have to do right now? You feel like crying. You end up crying. 

Hot blobs of salt run down your cheeks as you feel the overwhelming sense of dread. Nothing was going right for you today, nothing at all. Your bones feel heavy in your skin, your eyes straining to keep up with the amount of tears leaving you. Your car has no gas, it's hailing loudly and you're caught between the tides of pain and rapture as you stare at his contact on your phone. You hadn't even figured out the reason of why you are here. Maybe that's for the best. It'd be more awkward to face Komaeda if you had figured it out- but does that mean you most likely know what's wrong with you then? Are you in denial?

"...Hello?" His gravally voice seeps through the audio output.

"..Komaeda, can you come pick me up? My car broke down at the beach- I can't get home and I have no money to call repair services." Your voice is cracking and crumbling as you call, your hands occupied with either your phone or holding the wheel. All you hear is a groan that interrupts a 5 second silence. "..Please- after this I'll never call again, I promise-" All you hear is a beep. He hung up. What did you expect? Why would he ever come and help someone as pathetic as you?

You fall back into your seat, hands dragging your face again before you grumble to yourself under your breath. Why do you care so much? His attention burns your skin and his precense warms your nerves. You could practically melt at the thought of him. This isn't right. It just isn't right at all. It's disgusting, it should be illegal to feel like this for another man. You feel ashamed like you've committed murder. Being burnt at the stake would be a worthy punishment for this. Oh but the more you deny and refute this, refute him, the more you can't push these feelings down. It's all you're thinking about. 

So now you're stuck here and potentially broken what little bit of friendship you had with Komaeda. Great work. Aren't you just the most intelligent man alive? 

You huff it out in large and saltier blobs of misery, soon letting your exhausted eyes fall heavy. You're sitting in your car, hail now slowing as you drift off into probably one of the modt uncomfortable positions possible. In your dreams you envision a timeline where perhaps one of you were a girl instead, and loving eachother wouldn't need to be so compromising. Or perhaps a timeline where loving another boy wouldn't be compromising.

Soon enough, you're awoken by loud thuds and thumps against your window, you can barely make out what it is banging your window due to how much more the rain was pouring down now. A loud groan leaves your throat before you roll down the window, and your eyes finally open fully. That frizzy tuff of white cotten, now flattened by the rain is all too familiar for you. You stare at it. But not at his eyes.

Komaeda Nagito.

You both stare at eachother, stoic yet painful words were folded into the corners of eachother's eyes. It's been about 10 seconds you've been staring at eachother through your car window.

"..."

"..You truly are so incompetent, aren't you?"

What?

"..Driving all this way and you didn't even think to fill up your tank. On top of that, you call me of all people to solve this pathetic problem of yours and you're not even going to say a thing to me when I arrive."

He came here? But he hung up?

"..Are you blind? Are you deaf? Hello??" Komaeda sneers at you, grimacing at you. It's hard to see eachother through the rain.

"...you came."

He shuts up at that, and despite the rain, you can see his eyes soften. "..I did. You called me, you sounded.. stressed. So I came." But why?

"..I don't why I did. It was like I needed to. It doesn't make sense." He sighs before looking away. You narrow your eyes slightly, softening them too before you get out of your car and closing the door behind you, leaning against the soaked metal.

At this point, the only source of light came from your car lights, blaring from it's home to display all the droplets of rain that passed it. "..What happened?" His voice was quieter than quiet. Despite the rain being louder, you could only hear him. "..You don't usually go out so late. I thought your friends invited you out?"

"..You paid attention to that?" He nods. "I just needed to figure something out." He hums.

"..Well, have you?" You shake your head.

"..Maybe I can help. What is it you're troubling yourself with?" You huff.

Both of you wander over to the hood of your car, sitting ontop of it. "I can't tell you. I'd honestly rather die than do so. You'd rip me to shreds."

"What? Are you striving to become an Ultimate or something? It couldn't be that bad." You scoff and lay back onto your hood.

"..Remember that conversation we had a couple weeks back? You asked if I'd ever.."

"..Date a boy?" You nod. "..What about it?"

It takes a lot of courage to continue this conversation. "..What would.. what do you- think? Would you ever date one?" He shrugs. "Probably. Why? What does this have to do with anything?" How dense can someone be?

But that gives you a little something. He might. 

"..Put two and two together you fucking moron." At this point, you're getting tired of running away. Your feet are calloused with how much you've ran away from this problem of yours. You need to decide it now.

You glance over at his face and you see no malice in his visage. Perhaps he isn't here to taunt you. He's probably trying to understand what you meant. "..Ah." Is all he says before laying back onto the hood with you. "Whatever you decide for that, despite how..painfully filthy you are... I'll support you." 

He heaves alot during that sentence. Maybe it's due to the rain or maybe it just took too much out of him to try to be nice to you. You both look up, squinting through the rain. "..How long have you been out here?"

"..About.. 8 hours..? I don't know. I needed to find some space." Komaeda hums in agreement as he combs his strands back. "Fair enough. But you might catch a cold." That's new. "Since when did you care, Main course?" You could just about hear the small chuckle under his breath.

This all felt like some strange peace treaty between you two. It was no longer insults but rather it felt like light-hearted jokes. Like you two had known each other forever. "Would you rather me let you out to die from pneumonia?" You laugh and shake your head. Your laughter simmers down and you both look at each other, you hadn't looked at him for the entire time. Looking at him almost made you sob. You don't know if you can do this.

"So... what made you start... thinking of this whole liking boys thing?" He asks with a careful tone, talking to you at this moment felt like a delicate activity. You can't tell him that. You just shrug.

"So you pull me all the way out here, just so we can lay in the rain on your hood?" You smile at that but you shake your head. "..I don't think I can tell you why. I don't want to ruin this." You gesture to the little space between you two. "It's taken me so long to just say I potentially like...boys. I feel like I should be atoning for this."

"No shame in liking guys. You don't need to tell me why then," You thank him with your silence, ", Any guys you like right now though?" You slap his shoulder and he puts both hands up in the air with a smirk. "What? It's a genuine question!"

Eyes roll as you simply return to looking up at the crying sky. "Perhaps. Do you?" He shrugs. "Perhaps."

"You can't just copy my answer. Give me something here."

"You're not giving me a thing here. How about we both give small hints?" It's a good idea and so you agree. "Hair colour?" God that is the worst question. He'll easily tell who it is then. "That's way too obvious!" A small huff leaves him before he goes back to thinking. "Hm, fine.. which course is he in?"

The thing is, you don't know anyone else in the Main Course other than him and Kazuichi. He was your neighbour for a long time and you two grew close as friends. But he didn't know that, did he? "..Main Course." You awaited a scoff or a remark of how you don't deserve to love anyone from the Main Course, but he just hums.

"..Would you like to know mine?"

It almost takes your entire being to not say yes so eagerly. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

"..Reserve."

There's a strange casual coolness in his voice, as if he hadn't just said something that completely shook you to your roots and make you question everything about him. This contradicted everything about him! What kind of weird enemies-to-lovers experience did he have?

"..Shocking, I know. Seems like we're in similar situations, unfortunately." Komaeda remarks, however he has a smirk on his face that gives you a bad feeling that he knows. Maybe you should give in to defeat.

"..Don't you hate us? Why would you ever want to love one of us?" Your inquiry is the one to make him finally scoff. "..I never wanted to. But I had to accept it soon enough, I have enough things to eat away at me. I didn't need another." It felt slightly insulting but you got it. It was exactly like you and this gay situation. "..That's...fair enough. When did you finally accept it?"

"..About.. A month or two ago? I had let it waste away at me for about.. 4 months." 6 months. You've known him for 6 months.

"..Wow.. You've been in love with some dude ever since the day we met and you didn't bother to tell me? I'm honestly betrayed, Komaeda."

"Well I didn't exactly see you as a friend back then, did I?" That caught you off guard. "So that means you see me as a friend now?"

"Perhaps." That leaves a smile on your face.

You two stay out on your hood for another 5 minutes. It's getting cold. It's very late.

"..You figured it out yet?" His voice sounds less sultry, now it was more careful and smooth. You shrug.

Over the course of 5 minutes, 2 things went through your head. Should you just give in to defeat and tell him and potentially ruin everything or should you just say no and just get him to drive you two home and send a service for your car later? The latter sounds tempting. It's such a cursed mindset- it felt like a fruit from a poisonous tree. Your thoughts were fickle between the decisions of defeat and stubborness. All your troubling thoughts brutally clawed at your face and brain, infecting it like your brain was filled with scorpions. Your tolerance was beginning to simmer and sizzle. Perhaps you thought about it too much. Maybe you're overthinking. What if you gave in to defeat and he rejects you? It was all for nothing. But he doesn't owe you that affection just because you came out to him within the same day. Why can't you decide? Why won't you hurry up? Why, why, why?-

Your thoughts silence. His lemon grass eyelashes fluttered at you like rare butterflies in the spring morning. You take one more breath.

"I like a boy from the Main Course. I can.. confirm that now. I'm not the most.. okay with that fact but.. I can't let it eat me away aswell." You smile weakly at him. Looking into Komaeda's eyes, you can see glints of a smile in them. He seems proud of you.

"But I... uh.. don't think he likes me back." He cocks his head slightly to the side. "Why do you say that?" This might also give it away.

But your rational reasoning had been long gone from your brain ever since you started crying and screaming on a beach in a broken down car.

"He doesn't exactly like Reserves." You cover your mouth to giggle as if you just told someone the dumbest secret ever. His eyebrow raises at you. "Oh?"

Oh.

Shit.

"..Aha.. Ahhhhh... Yeah. What about your Reserve Crush? Does he like Main Courses?"

"No. He always scoffs when he sees me."

"I would too." You already do.

"Why wouldn't he like you though? Despite how painfully average you are... You're quite stunning in the moonlight. And somehow you're able to make me laugh everyday." You are quite the comedic genius.

"Because I'm no Ultimate. I've heard the way he talks about the Ultimates and I'm never going to live up to that. I wish I could. I always wonder if I'm ever going to."

"Maybe he's let go of that aspect of hatred from you." He suggests, looking over at you. "..Maybe he sees you as something even more." It's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "..How would you know that?"

"My luck is that of the stars. I might be right." Komaeda winks before staring deeper into your eyes.

"My troubles lie exactly with if he'll like me or not right now, and supposedly your luck will help me?" He shrugs. You two have become ever so much more closer on your hood, sitting upright. You two haven't made this long of eye-contact ever. You two haven't made this type of contact ever either. He's beautiful. You can feel his cold breath against you.

Over the course of your time together on your car with raining weeping onto you, Komaeda came closer for warmth and you came closer to try and hear his small tone. It's only become more apparent of how little space there was between you two. You have a strange feeling on where this is going with how close he is becoming.

"Are you scared?" You nod slightly. He probably noticed your eyes shake between his lips and the surroundings and back to his eyes.

"I feel like someone will see us."

"Through the car lights? I doubt it. Do you still want to deny yourself this? I can stop if you want." He backs away slightly as a demonstration, but you catch his shoulders and shake your head. "...There is nothing to run from. I'm not scared. I only have one more worry on my mind but... it's nothing you should be concerned about." And he smiles.

"Would you..let me answer your troubles?"

You're unsure of what he means, however you aren't given much of a chance to question him. You feel a cold pair of lips press against yours, and you feel complete. You two complete eachother, knocking their air out of eachothers lungs as you hold hands and kiss on your hood. "..Don't let them see my face." Is all you mumble through your muffled lips as you two, push eachother up against the car, holding eachother like life lines. "I don't know how to be without you." Komaeda mumbles back, digging his nimble hands into your hair.

It feels like fireworks as you finally break away and look at eachother. Your finger tips slowly trace to his knuckles, holding his hand tightly as you two continue to watch the tides rise and retreat.

"...Would.. would you.. like to go back now?" You nod. You two get off of the vehicle and enter Komaeda's. You leave with smiles and blushes between a silence.

The rain stopped at that very second.

#nagito x reader #danganronpa 2 x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sdr2 x reader #danganronpa x reader #male reader #fanfiction

[bibliophilesince2003]

Do you enjoy (Star Wars) Bad Batch? Do you want to read a fan-fiction focused on an original character who is forced to work with the Bad Batch in order to save Omega and put a dent in an original antagonist's plan? Do you enjoy books with a sense of adventure and mystery, with wholesome, saddening, and comedic moments in between?

I enjoy reading fan-fiction from time to time, and I've always been a writer. However, I was shocked to find that most Bad Batch fan-fiction is either incomplete or a romance between a member of the Bad Batch and an original character. I wanted to write something not focused on romance, but focused on a realistic situation with realistic conversation.

Since I couldn't find it, I wrote it. Started in November of 2023, I finished the book in February of this year (2024) and am very proud of it. In fact, I am working on book two... a book following the events of book one.

What is it called and where can I find it, you ask? Well, here are the links to Star Wars: The Bad Batch - Keeper's Arena. I have it posted on Wattpad and Archive of Our Own, so it depends on your preference. On Wattpad, it has reached 3k reads. I appreciate all the love and support the people on Wattpad have given me; they were there when I first started. It has only recently been posted on Archive of Our Own; it has a very small amount of clicks at the moment.

Still need some convincing? Here's a snippet from an earlier chapter:

This was a very bad idea. Jade hastily broke off another piece of bread, hoping to finish soon or that the topic would change. She heard the doors open, and a hush came over the crowd, even as the electronic music continued to pulse, and the lights flashed. Jade risked a look over her shoulder, then looked away, her nerves spiking.

Omega's brothers.

She felt guilty and a bit worried. Did they believe the rumors going around? Did they know what she looked like? She assumed they began walking at a casual, non-threatening pace, as the chatter increased in volume again.

"Please don't come over here, please don't –"

Jade's inward begging would do no good; they were already heading for the counter. Jade lifted her face and tried to relax. If she didn't want them to notice her, she needed to be as calm as possible. She stopped tapping her foot, realizing she was doing it without thinking. Jade glanced to her left as the one with the bandana arrived at the counter first, waiting for the bartender. The one with the prosthetic arm was paying close attention to the bartender's conversation with the other men, frowning. Well, that wasn't a good sign. Jade drank more water, finishing it off. As long as she got out in time, she would be fine. She hoped the bartender would stay with the men a bit longer, but he noticed his new guests, coming to face the one with the bandana.

"Alright, men. What are you having?"

"We're looking for someone," the leader of the group – it seemed – stated.

"Do I look like a directory?" the bartender scoffed, clearly annoyed with the appearance of multiple unique guests.

"Maybe those men know more about it than you do," the frowning one pointed to the other side of the counter, where the three men discussing rumors with the bartender were seated.

"You mean that girl that was snatched?" the bartender questioned, turning his head to raise his voice. "Joe, what did you hear about this?"

Joe sighed, throwing up his hands. Jade carefully pushed her plate away and turned in her seat, staring instead at the booths against the wall. She fumbled a bit as she closed up her thigh bag, and the stool made a quiet squeak. Jade cringed, but she couldn't feel any eyes on her. Not yet at least.

"She had some sort of help, or else she was being set up. At any rate, she wasn't alone."

Jade froze, knowing what would come next.

"There was a woman with her, an older teenager. In fact, I'm almost entirely sure that's her, at the end of the counter. Whatever you're going to do, grab her fast. She doesn't look like much, and she keeps to herself, but she's armed."

He was talking in hushed tones, and Jade wasn't sure if she had even heard him right, but there was no mistaking the shuffle of feet.

"So much for being done with running for the day," Jade thought, and she slid off of the stool and ran, straight for the door.

#star wars #sw tbb #the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #clone force 99 #clone troopers #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfictions #fanfic #fanfics #ao3 fanfic #wattpad fanfiction #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction writer #ao3 writer #ao3 link #wattpad link #wattpad #archive of our own

[shai-manahan]

Hi! It's been a while since I've talked about the upcoming updates, but I finally had a chance to actually sit down and make plans! (the life of a corporate slave, am I right? 🙃)

It has something to do with the changes I will be implementing on my patreon, though. I've thought for a while how to give content that's worthwhile of subscriptions while also making sure I can be comfortable with them, and in all honesty, I had a tricky time doing it. HM is too personal for me, as I used to talk about before, and some of the patreon benefits I promised before eventually felt too revealing - of my own thoughts and people whose lives were a huge inspiration for this story.

I will be talking about these changes and the update schedules as well below the cut.

UPDATES

I aim to finish at least half of HM's Book 1 this year. It seems to be a more realistic goal than forcing myself to finish everything right away (which tbh may have been a huge pressure I put on myself the past few years), though admittedly, things are unpredictable in the field I'm in; my job is full of overtime hours, and I spend most of my weekends trying to recover (or sick).

Still, I gotta finish it one way or another, and it's not going to write itself (though I wish it would!), so yeah, set realistic deadlines, pull out a few all-nighters, and maybe I'll actually get through it, who knows?

I do hope I'll have steadier finances by the time Book 2 starts so I can put more focus on writing and have sufficient energy for it, but that's a conversation for another day.

Changes in Prologue - Chapter 2

Okay. I know I promised not to make revisions until I write more chapters, but changing how some game mechanics work and reworking the stats made it a necessity, and I underestimated how much rewriting I'd have to do. A few scenes ended up not working well anymore, and I couldn't resist from revising a few clunky sections while I was at it.

Dialogue options were one of those that were significantly affected by the stat changes, but no worries, nothing is changed in the story -- meaning Wesley still fucks with the Ripper's life (oops), Richard still goes off doing whatever non-sus thing he's doing, you can still punch Bale (it's even a lot funnier this time), Bertrand remains a bitchy cop, and you'll still have your sad flashback with your former best friend/lover/crush or whatever they are to your MC.

The plan is to release the updated version of Prologue and Chapter 1 to patrons by the end of March (I will have a few days off work that week) and release it to the public once the new content is also ready, which I presume will be available next month (I will keep you all posted but I really hope I can get it done by then because it's been forever 🥲).

I might tweak Chapter 2 a little so the available portion can stand on its own rather than be divided into two parts, because it's just too long lmfao and is harming the pacing as I keep worrying about the length. I'm also incorporating a few suggestions a few folks gave me these past few months.

Succeeding chapters

I've probably said this before but things are bound to get more insane in HM once we're past the first three to four chapters. But also quicker to write in a way. They're the kind of scenes I thrive in, and while they have bigger variations, they're a lot more fast-paced, characters start being manipulative little shits, and the threats are more prevalent than ever. Your Ripper will not have a good time, but I certainly will (I say as I look at my outline and get sad doing it). There will be a few "breaks" in between, but this is not and will never be a light-hearted story. Anyway, I'm inclined to believe I'll be more consistent with updates when that time comes, so bear with me for now :')

PATREON CHANGES

This is getting long, so I'll just list the updated tier benefits and end the day with it. I'll be posting a schedule that I will be committing to (here and on patreon tomorrow morning), with the below details as well (so if you wanna stop here that's totally valid) but for now, here's the tentative list:

Tier 1

Early access - 4 days before a public update (this month will be an exception and you'll get the update as soon as the other tiers get it, too).

Sneak peeks and deleted scenes - I included the latter because apparently I delete a lot of great scenes

Hints for future revelations in the story - the categories will depend on results of polls; the hints may be about Bale's death, about Ripper's family, Pharos, Cyro, the ROs themselves, or the nightmares that the MC is getting, etc. Might be in form of vague conversations/dialogues between unknown characters, might be me dropping subtle info about those involved. Either way, it will be fun :). The polls and these hints will be given monthly.

Tier 2

Early access - 1 week before a public update

all the other benefits for Tier 1

monthly RO snippets - I'm still experimenting with this, but I might simply write MC x RO snippets (with different kinds of MCs for different scenarios because I deeply hate writing blank slate MCs, sorry)

a choice to see the POV of a character, decided through polls, for every chapter/update.

Tier 3

Early access - as early as it's available and goes through testing stages

all other benefits for previous tiers

Non-RO short stories

Previews on unintroduced characters :)

That's all for tonight! I am so tired lmfao but I hope you all are having a great weekend so far! See you tomorrow :)

#patreon #patreon changes #updates #hollowed minds progress update #interactive fiction #hollowed minds series #hollowed minds #wip #writing #hollowed minds book one #if wip #interactive novel

[mayajadewrites]

lucky

roomates to lovers–friends to lovers suguru geto x fem reader

synopsis: Suguru Geto is your best friend and roommate. After a year of living together, there have been more than one opportunity to throw away your friendship. The question is, would you get lucky as fall in love for the rest of your days?

ao3

CHAPTER TWO

🎧🌙🧺📖🕯️🧸🤍

"Satoru, could you please be serious for a moment?" You stood on a step-ladder, hanging up black streamers from the doorway.

Satoru turned to you with his round glasses on and a party hat, blowing a party whistle. "Nooooo." He draws out the 'o'.

"Suguru will be back in a half hour. I sent him to the bookstore to find me a book that doesn't exist." You sigh, putting the finishing touches on the streamers.

"Wouldn't he just Google it?" Nanami said from the kitchen. He was setting up the cake and cupcakes, making sure everything looks good.

"No, because he trusts me." You smirk as you took a step back and observed the room. There were 'Happy Birthday' balloons and a few gifts on the coffee table. You lit his favorite marshmallow candle and put on a party hat.

You hand one to Nanami, Shoko, and Haibara. You had a few minutes before Suguru would be back.

"So, you guys are just roommates?" Satoru raised an eyebrow.

"...Yes? Why are you asking this?" You turn your head to Satoru, who was sitting on the couch with his arms across the back of the couch and his legs spread.

"You're a woman, a hot woman at that, and you live with Suguru, who is a handsome ass man. You sure you haven't fucked?" His glasses went to the bridge of his nose.

"I think I would remember if that happened."

"Well, we all have bets for when you guys will have sex." Gojo shrugged.

"Excuse me?!" You looked at the rest of the group.

"Don't take it personal." Shoko waved her hand. "We're just having a little fun."

"Haibara?!" You turn to him next, watching his large eyes blink.

"Satoru said the prize would be huge, so I had to!"

"Even YOU Nanami?"

"No. Not me." Nanami crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't participate in Satoru's games. Especially when it comes to peoples LIVES."

You heard footsteps outside of your apartment, along with with the clinking of keys.

Then you heard a laugh.

It wasn't Suguru's laugh.

The door opened and there was Suguru, with the girl from the bookstore.

"Surprise!!!" Everyone else cheered, while your mouth hung open. Hopefully he didn't notice.

This wasn't part of the plan.

Anxiety hit you like a cement block in your abdomen. Suguru's eyes wandered to yours. You looked away immediately.

"Happy birthday!" Satoru hugged Suguru, putting a party hat on his head. "You old ass man."

"Thank you guys, I wasn't expecting this." He moved the hat to the side, looking at the girl from the bookstore. "Oh, this is Mikayla. She was helping me find your book, well, now I know that the book doesn't exist."

"Hi everyone!" Mikayla had long, brunette hair, voluminous as if she had loads of extensions in her hair. She had brown eyes to match, doe-eyed. Her skin was a shade of caramel and her frame was petite.

You nod, walking to the kitchen to grab a water. "Welcome." You say flatly, taking a sip.

"Well let's get this party started!!" Satoru turned on the music, dancing in the middle of your living room, dragging Haibara in his dance circle.

Nanami saw you standing by yourself, knowing you were all in your head. "Hey," He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Kento." You have your eyes glued on Suguru, who is deep in a conversation with Mikayla and Shoko.

"I know I'm friends with Satoru, but I'm not actually stupid."

"Hm?" You turn to look at Nanami, his eyes peering through his green glasses.

"I can tell you're hurt by what Suguru is doing. But don't be stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"Suguru isn't a mind reader. If you like him, you need to tell him. If you don't want to, then you're going to have to get over this. He is a man, with needs, so obviously he's going to bring women home."

"I don't like him like that." You dismiss the idea. "I just, didn't know we would have an extra guest is all."

"Mm." Nanami nodded, watching Suguru and Mikayla. "Well, I'm here if you need me." Nanami put his hand on your shoulder, giving you a warm smile.

Nanami is right. You have to get over him bringing women home. You know you can bring men home, but you're not the easiest to date, or so you've heard. You're headstrong and refuse to accept the bare minimum from any man, which results in 0 dates.

"Psst." Shoko interrupted your thoughts. "You dating anyone?"

"Not at the moment." You take the last sip of your water.

"Good. I have someone I want to set you up with," Shoko smiled, digging through her purse for a cigarette. "His name is Choso. He's really sweet, and I feel like he'll respect your whole 'strong woman' thing you got going on." She scanned your body up and down. "And that ass helps."

You have no reason to say no, even to a blind date right now.

"Tell me when and where, and I'll be there." You nod, taking a deep breath before looking up into the living room, where Suguru was already staring at you.

"Sweet, I'll text you the details!" Shoko finds her lighter in her purse and walks out to the patio to smoke.

"Can you please think about quitting someday?" You beg.

"Maybe." She shrugged, sliding the door closed behind her.

"I don't think we met, my name is Mikayla." The brunette made her way over to you, holding out her hand.

"You've seen me. Plenty of times." You look at her blankly. "I'm in the bookstore you work at every other day, and you've said maybe a whole sentence to me."

Satoru couldn't help but snicker watching the interaction.

"Maybe if you bothered to, I don't know, be a nice person, you would've known me by now." You tell her your name, shaking her hand. "Nice to... meet you." You look at her, watching her eyebrow raise.

"I'm sorry, that doesn't sound like me." She pulls her hand away, smiling.

"I think I would know since there's only 3 people that work there, and 2 of them are men."

"Okay, okay." Suguru walked up to the both of you, putting a hand on each of your shoulders. "Mikayla, this is my best friend and roommate." His head leaned to your side.

"Happy birthday." Your tone was monotone as you looked at Suguru. You wanted to sulk in your feelings, that you shouldn't even have, so you grab a bottle of champagne from the counter.

"Hey," Nanami helps you open the bottle. "Don't do anything stupid, ok?"

"Kento, I got this." You nod, pouring the liquid into your glass. You peer through the glass and watch Mikayla shameless flirt with Suguru, but he doesn't seem too interested. Then again, he doesn't seem too interested in anything these days.

Shoko finally came back inside with a huge smile on her face. "Guess what! Choso wants to go out tomorrow night. He said he'll make the reservation for a Mexican restaurant since I told him you love Mexican food."

"Thanks, Shoko." You smile, sipping your cup.

"You have a date?" Suguru entered the conversation.

"Yep, she does. I set her up with this guy from my job. Choso Kamo. He's super sweet, and I think she needs some sweetness in her life."

"I do have a sweet tooth." You raised your eyebrows, giggling.

"Where?" Suguru persisted.

"God, I don't know the name of the restaurant, I'm sure she'll tell you tomorrow." Shoko looked at Suguru up and down. "Is that okay, dad?"

Suguru ignored the 'dad' comment and turned his attention back to you. "Since when do you go on blind dates?"

"Since when do you bring women from the bookstore home? The answer is the same." You chugged the rest of your drink. "I need to have some fun, I haven't gotten laid in a hot minute."

That sentence stung Suguru in the same way seeing him with Mikayla stung you.

But you don't like Suguru like that.

You don't love Suguru like that.

Right?

#suguru geto #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #suguru geto fanfiction #suguru geto fanfic #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[unhappycylinder]

Hellfire's Newest Member (Eddie x fem!Reader) Pt. 1

Quick note: i got impatient and posted this lol. This has been on my wattpad for months and I wanted to post it here lol. This is just part 1, I've got like 16 more chapters I'll be posting soon! Lmk what y'all think

Warnings/summary: some family trauma, nothing too spicy yet, this is just backstory (and Dustin) so we can get into the good stuff next time

Masterlist

---

You stepped into your new room in Hawkins, Indiana, a town which seemed to have just about as much personality as the bottom of a shoe. Glancing around the empty, but spacious room, you thought about how many rooms just like this you had lived in before. With your dad working some secret government job, you moved around the country a lot and hardly ever had time to really settle into a space or get to know the people around you.

It felt like just when you started to get used to a routine somewhere new - finally started decorating your room and hanging out with people outside of school - your dad would be relocated and you'd have to go with him. Your mom wasn't in the picture anymore, she had been gone since you were 13, and the only explanation your dad every gave you was that "she didn't want to live this type of life anymore, and we weren't enough to keep her around," the last bit always stung when you thought about it.

Dad was quiet after mom left, and he didn't really seem to care what you did with your time as long as your grades came back fine and you weren't gone for an unreasonable amount of time. Plus, working most nights meant he hardly had the schedule to keep tabs on where you were.

Nevertheless, a fresh start in Hawkins felt necessary. The last place you had been was LA, which was waaaay too big and waaay to noisy for your taste. That was another thing that set you apart from people your age: you weren't really into parties and shopping and sports like most high school seniors were. How could you be? You were never anywhere long enough to play anything or get invited anywhere. You kept yourself busy with books, movies, music, and most of all Dungeons and Dragons.

The game which was being shunned as a satanic cult was your escape from reality and the only constant thing in your life. Yes, it was hard to find a group to play an entire campaign with, but you managed, plus your favorite part was creating characters and imagining fantastic new worlds you'd love to explore. In fact, a good amount of the boxes you brought with you, which contained everything you owned, were full of binders, manuals, books, and figurines you had collected in your years of playing.

You started unpacking, throwing your childhood stuffed animals on your queen sized bed in the corner of your room, and stacking your plentiful collection of books and movies on the floor and on your desk. You were about to pull out your favorite books - The Lord of the Rings trilogy - when your dad knocked on your door

"Hey y/n, sorry to interrupt...uh I just got called into work so I'm gonna head out, but I'll leave some money on the counter for you"

"Oh okay, thanks. Do you know when you'll be ba-"

Before you could finish, he was out the door. You shook your head and returned to your packing, hearing your dad's car drive away outside.

-----

By the time you finished packing it was already dark outside and you could hear faint talking outside your window. You walked over, pulling your curtains aside, and looked to your neighbors house to see two young boys, probably around 14-15, standing in between your house and the next. One of them was wearing a hat that said "thinking cap" on it, which you thought was funny, and the other was taller and had wavy black hair. They seemed to be arguing about something

"No Dustin, Lucas said he has his championship game tomorrow and there's no way he's gonna make it to Hellfire"

"Eddie is gonna KILL us man!"

They we're talking pretty loud, and you were pretty tired and didn't want to hear their bickering while you tried to fall asleep, so you opened your window

"Hey, idiots!"

The boys shut up instantly and looked over to you

"Listen, I really don't mean to interrupt, but I don't know who you are or who this Eddie guy is, but your bickering over him is really getting in the way of my sleep and I have had a very, very, long day of unpacking"

They looked at you, wide-eyed, before the shorter boy in the hat moved closer to your window

"Oh um, sorry, our bad. And I'm Dustin by the way, I live just there," he gestured to the house next to yours, "and this is my friend Mike"

"Pleasure, I'm y/n," you didn't want to be mean to them, so you figured you'd go ahead and introduce yourself, "well I'm gonna go get that sleep I mentioned, and please just keep your voices down."

"Aye aye, captain," Dustin said with a salute before he and Mike walked away from your window towards his house.

You closed your window, took off your sweaty clothes, turned off your light, and crawled into your new bed, nervous for your first day at school tomorrow.

----

Part 2

#eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut

[qetalos]

‧₊˚ daydreaming | 성훈

p: popular!Sunghoon x shy!fem reader g: classmates to lovers, fluff

warnings! kinda slowburn? Also reader loves chem (sorry not sorry y'all LMAO), long writing!

a/n: based off the song Daydreaming by Ariana Grande<3 last post before indefinite hiatus..

The first day I arrived to school, my attention was caught by a pretty boy of dark black hair and a face perfectly painted by multiple moles in different areas of, not only his face but, his body too. I could never talk to him, he was hella popular and I don't think he'd like to talk to someone like me, a random girl who came this year.

I wasn't completely lonely, I had a friend named Mi-Ju, she told me a bit more about Sunghoon. Things like he had a younger sister, he used to be an ice skater and a lot more things that just made me admire and feel more interested in him.

"You're going to create a hole in his back if you continue staring at him like that" I heard Mi-Ju say and I just rolled my eyes, I was looking at Sunghoon from our table at lunch with my chin on top of my hand "It's not like that..." I said and looked away from him after 5 minutes of staring at him to start eating "Have you heard about the History project?" "History project?! What?!" I looked at Mi-Ju, almost as if something tragic had happened "Yeah... Mrs Kim told us about it last class, we don't have to bring anything she just told us about it to... I don't know, be ready?" She said and I let out a sigh, feeling less worried about it "The thing is that it's in pairs but we won't be able to choose our partners... She'll choose them" "Really? Mrs Kim is always like that... it's no fun literally..." I said and went back to eating before going to our history class.

"Okay class, I'll start naming your partners for this project. When I finish naming all of you, then you can see how you'll organize to do this" the teacher said and everyone stayed silent "So, the pairs will be Areum and Haerin" "Yeonhan and Mi-Ju" "Sunghoon and ___" "Jeonmi and..." wait... I was paired with Sunghoon?! I turned around to look at Mi-Ju but instead of finding her eyes, I found Sunghoon's which were already looking at me beforehand "Alright, those are the pairings for this project. Good luck and remember to bring it in two weeks".

I sighed nervously as I stood up and walked to Sunghoon's desk, thinking on how I was going to deal with him and having to talk to him for two weeks, was this good or bad? "Hey Sunghoon..." I said and swallowed nervously, looking at him before looking to the ground "Hey.. ___" I heard him say and I didn't know what else to say "Do you wanna sit down?" Sunghoon asked me and I nodded, sitting next to him feeling pretty awkward. "So... how do we start this project?" He asked as he looked through his notebook "Uhm I think the teacher said that we should choose a chapter from the book and make a poster about it and the main topics" I said as I grabbed my history book and started to flip through the pages "Do you have any chapter in mind? Also, sorry. Today I forgot my history book so if you don't mind, can we share your book?" "Oh? Yeah no problem about that. Honestly I have one chapter in mind but we can decide which one together, does that sound right?" I asked softly, not believing the way I started to talk to him so normally and confidently "Yeah I'm okay with that" Sunghoon said and we started the project.

"How's it going with Sunghoon?" Mi-Ju asked me, nudging my shoulder playfully before we sat down for lunch. It has been a week since the history project started and my little conversations with Sunghoon, about the project, started too. "What do you mean? It's going good, we're always working on the project so..." I said smiling as I started to eat. I was talking to Mi-Ju when I felt a tap on my shoulder, turning around I couldn't believe that Sunghoon was there looking at me "Yes?" I mumbled softly "Uhm... Would you like to.. meet me after school to grab something?" He asked me and I was speechless "To continue the project! Yeah..." Sunghoon added and I chuckled as he sounded nervous, something new for me to see "Sure" I said smiling at him before he walked away.

"What was that?!" Mi-Ju asked and I giggled to myself, burying my face in my arms "I don't know but I'm so happy right now" "Yeah of course you are, your crush asked you out after school.." Mi-Ju said as she ate her lunch "He didn't ask me out! He said it was to finish the project!" I said, looking over at her before she eyed me "You know very well that it's more like a date rather a study session or whatever... He even said it himself but added the project part to sound more subtle" "Whatever.." I said and looked down at my food, smiling to myself.

"Why did I say that?! Oh my god I'm so dumb" Sunghoon said and bumped his head on the table as Jake patted his shoulder "It wasn't that bad by the way you say you did it... a study session? It's not that bad" Jungwon said, eating his lunch as he looked over at Sunghoon "I could've just gone and asked her on a proper date instead of a "study session"! I don't know why I was so nervous..." Sunghoon groaned "Maybe because you like her?" Ni-ki butted in, playing some games in his phone while he listened to Sunghoon's rambling "I don't-" "Yes you do, Sunghoon" everyone in the table said in unison, glancing at him before he bumped his head on the table again.

Sitting down next to Sunghoon in one of the cafe's table I started to take out all my books and things we were going to need to complete the project "Did you bring your book today?" I asked Sunghoon jokingly as I looked over at him "Yeah I did..." he said before chuckling lightly, cute.

"Let me walk you home, ___" I heard Sunghoon say as we walked out from the café after finishing the history project, a week before the day we had to hand it in "What?" I couldn't believe my ears in that moment "Yeah... Would you be comfortable with me walking you home?" He asked again and I smiled softly, nodding at his words "Yes..". We were walking together when suddenly little drops started to fall, slowly turning into a light rain "Oh.." I said as we realized it had started to rain "It's okay, I have an umbrella in my backpack" I said before taking out a small umbrella, it was more likely to be an individual umbrella due to the size but Sunghoon didn't mind about that as we shared it. It was awkward, definitely. But gladly my apartment wasn't far away from where we were and minutes after we arrived there "Thank you for walking me home, Sunghoon" I said smiling at him "No problem" he said and he was about to walk away under the rain when I stopped him, grabbing his arm softly "You can have my umbrella, I can't let you walk home under the rain" "Really?" "Yeah" I said chuckling "How can I repay you?" Sunghoon asked me and I shrugged, smiling "Giving it back?" I said and we both laughed "I don't know, but don't worry. Make sure to arrive safely and then we'll talk about that" I said and Sunghoon nodded, he waved before he started to walk away with my umbrella.

"And so I gave it to him!" I told Mi-Ju as we were on a phone call "Oh my god, I swear you're making smoother moves than him!" She said and I laughed "It's okay, I don't think he even likes me" I said and laid down on my bed, talking to Mi-Ju for a while more.

The next day I was in my locker when I saw my umbrella with a note and candies beside it, how did it end up inside my locker? I don't remember giving Sunghoon my locker keys. I grabbed the note and read it, smiling to myself as I grabbed the umbrella and put it inside my backpack again. I noticed that the candies were also one of my favorites, how did he know? Maybe it was a consequence and I was just overthinking about it, but how did he manage to put the umbrella and the candies inside my locker?

"Did you pass the chemistry exam?" Mi-Ju was talking with Ni-ki when I walked to her, she smiled and introduced Ni-ki to me as one of Sunghoon's friend "No I didn't" Ni-ki said, chuckling to himself "But the subject is so boring!" He added and I gasped, as a person who loved chemistry "What? Chemistry? Boring? Oh my god-" I said and Mi-Ju only laughed as I argued with Ni-ki. "Ni-ki? ___? What are you doing here?" A voice asked and Mi-Ju gasped "You forgot about me!" "Oh yeah sorry" I looked up and saw Sunghoon, it was weird to see him talk to Mi-Ju so confidently? "Hey" I said and Sunghoon turned to me, smiling "What were you talking about?" He asked again and Ni-ki told him about how he failed his chemistry exam. "___?" Sunghoon asked quietly and I looked at him, Mi-Ju and Ni-ki were busy arguing about something else so they weren't paying attention "Yeah?" I replied simply, waiting for him to talk "Would you like to go out after school to discuss about the project?" He asked me and I almost bursted out laughing, but I got the idea of his suggestion "Okay... even if we already finished the project?" I asked smiling playfully at him as he chuckled to himself, nodding "Yeah, even if we already finished it".

And that's how it was the last week before handing in the project. Sunghoon would ask me to go out after school to talk about the project, when we just went out to eat or walk around. It was sweet, indeed, but it left me confused. Did he want something else with me? If not then why was he doing this?

"Sunghoon?" I asked softly, as we walked together back to my apartment after spending another afternoon together "Yeah?" He replied "Why are you doing this?" "Asking you out after school?" And I was surprised by the way he already knew the point of my question "Yes.." I waited for his reply, but instead heard him chuckle "Because I like you" "What?" I asked again, not believing what he had said. We stopped walking and stood looking at each other "I like you, ___" Sunghoon said, looking down "But I didn't know a better way of asking you out apart from saying it was to study.." he said and I chuckled softly, I looked up at him "I like you too, Sunghoon... I've liked you for a long time" I admitted and he sighed before grabbing my hand "I'm sorry for making you wait" "It's okay, we're ending up together anyways?" I chuckled and he nodded, bringing me closer "We are" Sunghoon said and brought his hand to hold my cheek before connecting our lips together in a soft kiss.

✦゜・。。

thank you for reading!

do not copy, repost on other socials or translate. all rights reserved to @/stqrlite

-🏷️

#stqrlite #enhypen #fyp #enhypen jay #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen hard hours #kpop #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon #heeseung #spotify #enhypen jake #writers on tumblr #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen packs #enhypen smau #park sunghoon #sunghoon #enhypen social media au #enhypen sunoo #enhypen heeseung #enhypen headers #enhypen scenarios #enha smau #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #enha #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines

[mlbigbang]

2022 General Fic Rec List

It's the end of the year which means it's finally time for the ML Big Bang's yearly fic rec lists! We're really excited to bring you our contributors' favourite fics started this year to supply you with plenty of reading material while you're waiting for the Big Bang fics' publication in January.

deliverin' by @fragileizy 5,750 words, General, 2/2 chapters

“Is everything okay?” “Yeah. Yes, of course it is, I just”—she swallows ash and ice—“it was just the Book I was reading. It, uh… their family separates after a bit, and it’s all a misunderstanding, and—” she can’t finish. She’s not allowed to. “Do you need a hug, Jules?” I need you to stay, she wants to cry. You’re my only brother. And I’ll miss you so terribly when you’re gone. Every day, I’ll be alone without you, because Mom will try to visit as often as you always visit me, but she’ll keep feeling guilty for the rest of our time together because she knows how upset I am. And she’ll be upset, too. I’ll never be able to watch her cry, but I’ll hear her. And I don’t think I’m strong enough to deal with that. “I do,” she says instead, wings closing up around her like a ball. “Please. Just for a little while.”

"Cute!!!"

Telling the bees by @feather-dancer 5,768 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Chloé and Zoé have a routine where at least once a week they meet up somewhere for a chat which is an excuse to get away from their shared mother and to vent as much as anything. Folklore says it is very important to keep the bees up to date with the coming and goings of their keepers, these two are no different. Part of Haven of Strays.

"Canon has denied us any real Zoe&Chloe sisterly content. It's up to the fanfic community ot make up the difference. This author does all that and more in a weighty interaction between two sisters who are not friends, but are sisters."

Chaotic Company by ADeadmansBliss 5,450 words, Mature, 1/1 chapter

It's been nearly a week since Adrien's acquisition of a new pet and unfortunately traumatic injury is not something that can be recovered from quickly. Bored with only an unconscious former hero for company he decides to sneak out to find some entertainment which goes fine until Hawkmoth decides to ruins it.

"It's unlike anything I've read before and it's so super fantastic!!!"

Stranger Acquaintance by @bugchat 1,885 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Marinette just wants to live her Special Agent life as quietly as possible. Put bad guys behind bars, maybe make friends with three people at work, and eat pizza once they close a case. What makes its way into her life is a mop of blond hair with a stunning smile and too much of a back-talking mouth to be healthy for her.

"It's an good AU concept with fun dynamics, and it's a short, easy read! Detective Marinette and her team of four being Alya, Nino and Kagami. There's so much room for sequels if the author chooses to!"

maybe shake a tambourine by noirshitsuji 1,703 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Written for a Miraculous Writer's Guild blog request: Start a story with "I need a place to stay." Felix looks at his cousin, sometimes. Looks and wonders. The silver ring he’d taken to wearing a couple of years ago is gone. But the Adrien he’s known since childhood isn’t there either, and, much as Felix would like to attribute the tapping he’s noticed his fingers do every time Adrien doesn’t answer one of his questions to annoyance, he knows it’s truly because he feels unnerved by it all.

"It's a lovely exploration in Felix's character and his feelings toward Adrien while absolutely teasing a glorious plot about Adrien, Marinette, and Gabriel"

(may we write it all down) in cursive light by @sunfoxfic 3,503 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Since retiring as a journalist, Alya hasn't been involved in an interview in several years. But now that her identity is out, that's about to change.

"An amazingly written future!fic that beautifully explores a time long after Hawkmoth's defeat and "our" heroes' retirement."

Off the Mark by @buggachat 4,632 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Ever since Nino's (frankly embarrassing) akumatization into Rocketear, Chat Noir's behavior had taken a strange and sudden turn in the presence of Carapace, and Nino could only think of one possible explanation: Chat Noir hated him. Somehow, Adrien didn't seem to agree.

"Any fic that focuses on Nino and Adrien being bffs is important. After Rocketear, Nino may have rambled a bit to Adrien about how weird it's been being around Chat Noir. Adrien is weirdly invested in this problem. A lot of misunderstanding leads to heightened emotions and eventual revelations. Just a really good examination of the difficulties of secret identities and being best friends."

Infestations and Maladies by @sunfoxfic 100 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Bunnix called Chat Noir to go to a mysterious version of the timeline and fix… something.

"A well-written drabble exploring a reverse Chat Blanc. A very clever concept written in a very clever way!"

In Memory Of by @graaythekwami 3,012 words, Teen, 1/1 chapter

Gabriel Agreste was never good with kids, but his granddaughter needed him.

"A very interesting story with a dark backstory, but it's very sweet and well-written."

I Am Your Ghost by @emmalylis 1,559 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Adrien attends one of Gabriel’s galas in his mother’s old dress.

"Adrien in a dress. Need I say more?"

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye (you were bigger than the whole sky) by @hanaasbananas 865 words, General, 1/1 chapter

Distantly, he hears the music still blaring behind him, the song mocking in its cheerfulness, imprinting itself into his memory as the soundtrack to his devastation. For a moment–the longest of his life–everything stands still, the universe holding its breath and then Sabine shrieks and it shatters like glass beneath his feet.

"This is short but its just so damn sad😭 hit me right in the feels"

Moon mission by @ultrakart 2,789 words, General, 1/1 chapter

For Fei, escaping her past is as difficult as trying to escape the Earth’s orbit.

"Kart is the king of the Shanghai special and this is such a sweet short fic that showcases just how great his writing over it is."

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #fic recs #ml fic recs #general fic #ml big bang #ml big bang 2022 #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #gabriel agreste #chloé bourgeois

[tamberlanecomic]

July Newsletter

Hey everyone! Here are some general updates for everything that’s been going on and what you can expect for this month and throughout the summer.

Health Update

As some of you may remember, right after the Kickstarter closed I was knocked out by a one-two punch of a fibro flare and Covid. While I’ve been put through the wringer, I’m FINALLY feeling like I’m crawling back out from under this extended period of sickness.

I’m still dealing with some pain and fatigue due to my fibro flare-up, but it’s more or less back to the “normal” levels of what I’m used to, so overall I’m doing pretty good. I took some extra time to recuperate from Covid in the hopes of avoiding any long Covid effects, and while I am still taking it easy, I take a lot of joy in drawing and being forced to not indulge in any of my creative pursuits have made me all the more eager to get back into the swing of things. So, I’m still being careful, but I’m also easing back into work. 

I got so many amazing comments from patrons, readers, and Kickstarter backers all encouraging me to take as long as I needed to get better, and I can’t thank you enough for the kind words and well wishes! It was measurably easier to take some time off to rest knowing I had so many people cheering me on and encouraging me to do so, so thank you so much for taking the time to say something and for sending me words of support. <3 You da best!

Comic Updates

We’re moving right along, with 12 pages currently in the pipeline at various production stages. In fact, I’ve just put three new finished pages into the buffer for $10+ patrons today! Our priority right now is to get a healthy buffer so that I can have ample time and space to catch up on other work without impending deadline pressures.

Patreon Rewards

Next, I plan to knock out a good chunk of Patreon commissions for my $50+ folks. I’ve already been doing that here and there, but I want to make sure that the oldest ones are finished first. 

Likewise, due to the chaos of a sudden move and a lot of life changes, Ari didn’t send the May postcards out until today, so I apologize for the delays there – we’re getting back on track! June’s postcards have already been sent.

Speaking of, I’ve included some of the patron reward art I just finished last week!

Kickstarter News

We still need to finish the internal book edits, draw up the Q&As, format the information in the book, and finish formatting annotations. These are all things I had intended to get done both during and after the campaign but I was simply unable to keep up with it due to health reasons. Curse you, chronic illness! 

I am also going to explore another option for getting the softcovers printed locally, which is something I will only go with if the quality is up to my standards. But we're less than $5k away from being able to reprint Chapters 1-3 so if we're able to get a cheaper local deal with a good printer, I'm willing to explore the option! 

By the way, we are now officially sold out of Chapters 1 and 2 books, but you can help us reprint them by preordering them and other stuff through our Backerkit shop!

Preorder Here

We’ll be streaming edits in the Foxglove discord server, so be sure to keep an eye out on there!

New Pride Merch

For Pride month I launched two new apparel designs as part of our Pride collection! Choose from Agender or Non-Binary Ainsley or Biromantic or Transgender Marie on comfy shirts available in a wide range of colors and sizes. 

This collection also features downloadable Tales from Treehollow comics dealing with LGBTQIA+ themes. Come check it out!

Shop Now

Artfight

I’ve never done Artfight before, but I’m gonna try this year! It’ll be fun to have little warmup drawings I can squeeze in here and there between larger projects. 

If you’ve never heard of Artfight, it’s an annual art trading game where you “attack” by drawing other people’s characters. It seems really fun! If you’re participating and want to add me, here’s my profile:

https://artfight.net/~Cvilbrandt

Thanks all for reading! May this month be ever better!

#newsletter #art #comics #webcomic #cute #animals #adorable #furry art #furry community #digital art #indie comic #TamberlaneComic

[billyrussohaven]

Into my Web

Chapter 11

Dark!Vampire!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Cowritten with @the-cult-of-russo

Ratings: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include; Sexual situations, swearing, human slave, biting, blood, murder, obsessive thoughts, dub con, Stockholm syndrome, gaslighting.

You got out of the shower and Billy was still in bed, probably stretching his morning as long as he could before facing his family downstairs.

"Can I go read outside this morning?" You asked, crawling back naked on top of him. You straddled his lap and bent down to kiss his chest. He hummed softly, his hands smoothing up your back as he thought about it. He'd only just started trusting you enough to go outside back home so this was a bit of a stretch. You could make a run for it and he knew if he had to punish you, he wouldn't be able to do it here. Frank wouldn't let it fly. His fingers stroked your skin as he really thought about it before settling on just saying yes. It would be another test. And just because he couldn't punish you here didn't mean he wouldn't drag you home to do it. You'd been acting like you'd grown attached to him lately and he wanted to test how strong that bond was, to see just how much he could trust you. And he'd keep an ear out for you. He'd know if you tried anything. 

"Alright. But remember the rules and what happens if you break 'em," he murmured vaguely, knowing you'd know just what he meant. 

"Mmhmm, I won't leave. I just wanna go on the porch to read," you said, giving him another quick kiss before getting dressed.

You were sitting outside enjoying your morning coffee, alone, listening to the birds in the trees. You had brought your books outside with you to pass the time. You also wanted to see if you could figure out the names of the birds looking down at you curiously, perched on the long tree's branches. You had it open on the North American common birds page and you looked up and down between the pages and the little guys. You were quite happy when you could put names on a few of them.

"May I join you?" A kind male voice asked from behind you. It startled you and you almost dropped the book on the ground. You gripped the book tightly and looked over your shoulder at Curtis standing a polite distance away from you with his own cup of coffee.

You nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind your ears and scooted over on the bench to give him room to sit. He smiled and joined you on it, sitting a comfortable distance away. He looked over at your books, tilting his head to one side to read the titles. He curiously took the one about the human body and silently asked if he could check it out. You gave him a warm smile and nodded, taking a sip from your hot coffee.

"Billy told me you were a medic in the army," you said, closing your animal book and putting it back inside your bag.

"Correct. I was a Navy SARC. It stands for Special amphibious reconnaissance corpsman," he added before you could ask, seeing the small frown form on your face.

"We're trained as corpsmen to heal serious war injuries on fellow soldiers or civilians." He added with a smile, turning pages of the book he had borrowed from you.

"So it's like...like an emergency room at the hospital but more intense?" You proposed, trying to find what his work could resemble with something you already knew.

"Something like that yes," he said with a chuckle, liking how you made the connection between the two. He looked at the book you borrowed from the library and wondered what brought up your curiosity to get it.

"Does healthcare interest you?" He asked, tapping the book with a finger.

You blushed and looked away sheepishly, you felt a bit uncomfortable saying to a medic you didn't know much about anything.

"I didn't-," you started with but shook your head and tried again.

"I wasn't able to finish school and uh...I was telling Billy about it the other day. About how I'd like to know stuff too like he does, you know?" You said looking up at Curtis who gave you an encouraging smile and nodded.

"Then he suggested we could go get books at the library so I could learn about subjects I'm curious about and all. I figured it'd be interesting to dig deeper into my own body first," you said with a small shrug. 

Curtis grinned and took a long sip of his coffee. The mention of Billy's little act of kindness didn't go unnoticed by Curtis and he smiled at himself knowing that deep down, the good old Billy Russo he used to know was still in there. Of course Billy would have understood how she was feeling, having lived his own difficult childhood. Curtis wasn't a fan of the whole human slave thing going on and for very obvious reasons, Billy knew that. But maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing she ended up with Billy and not another vicious monster.

You opened your mouth to ask him something a few times but you weren't sure. It wasn't something you've found in the book and it had been on your mind for a while. You looked at Curtis and wondered if he'd know. He felt your gaze on him and he looked at you wondering what was on your mind. You seemed like you wanted to ask him something but your eyes kept darting to the patio door. He frowned slightly wondering what could be so important that you wondered if Billy would mind you asking. It set a seed of dread inside his stomach that he didn't like at all.

"Do you know how, uh, how you can find someone's age, if that person...didn't know?" You asked quietly. It was something Billy knew you didn't know and sometimes you wondered if you could find out.

Curtis exhaled a relieved breath hearing your question. It was still jarring but he was glad it wasn't anything worse really. He had heard about blood tests that could find a person's age with a 3 or 4 years accuracy.

Billy appeared at the door then, his cup of half drank coffee in one hand with another fresh one in his other hand.

"Mornin', Curt," he murmured, moving outside more. He handed you the cup of freshly brewed coffee with a small smile, exactly how you liked it, before he moved to stand opposite you, leaning back on the porch railing. You'd been so good, no running off. It was starting to make him trust you little by little although he still wasn't 100%. Maybe soon he'd be able to start going back to work.

"Good morning, Bill," Curtis said, raising his cup in greeting and taking a sip of his own coffee.

"Y/N was showing me the book she got at the library," he said to Billy with a small smirk. He was just teasing his old friend but Curtis was genuinely proud of Bill for doing this. Billy rolled his eyes and his shoulder at the look on his friend's face but it was welcome compared to Frank's looks. 

"He told me he was a...a SARC in the army and I wondered if he'd be able to find my real age," you said to Billy, taking a long sip of your freshly brewed cup.

"If you want," you added quickly with a shy smile. Billy looked at Curtis and raised his brow curiously.

"That somethin' you could do?" He asked, sounding genuinely interested. He didn't know shit about science like that, he had thought it wouldn't be possible. There was no harm in you finding out. As much as you made the perfect pet since you'd had your identity taken from you from a young age, part of him felt sorry for you for the same reason. He didn't give out pity often but he chalked it up to you being so good lately and meeting all of his needs. That was the only reason he felt anything when it came to you.

"I don't have the right medical supplies to do it here at home but yes, I believe I could make a few calls and do it." He said to Billy and chuckled at your excitement. He wasn't exactly done explaining how he'd need a sample of her blood for this and he wasn't sure how Billy would react to the news. You seemed so excited about it, it'd be heartbreaking to take it away from you now.

"Alright, lemme know if you need anythin'. Cash or… whatever," Billy muttered as he waved a hand vaguely, sipping on his coffee. He presumed this kind of thing wouldn't come cheap but it wasn't like he didn't have an overabundance of money.

Curtis was about to say something else but Frank appeared in the doorway. Billy felt his whole body tense right up and he stood up straighter as his dark eyes pinned him in place.

"Should have known you'd be out here with her. Can't give her a moment's peace, right? Surprised you don't have her chained to the bed," Frank bit out hotly as he glared at Billy. Billy's top lip curled, a growl rumbling in the back of his throat at the attitude. He really hoped Frank wouldn't be such an asshole today but clearly he'd been asking for too much.

You yanked your book out of Curtis hands and put it back in your bag with a little too much force. You glared at Frank while taking your bag and walked off the porch away from him. You wouldn't go far, you just wanted as much distance as your chain would allow you to. You walked to the edge of the grounds and flopped back down to sit on the cold grass, not giving a shit about getting your leggings wet.

Billy opened his mouth but shut it again quickly. He really couldn't be bothered having a fight with Frank this early in the morning. He hadn't even finished his goddamn coffee. He shook his head, snorting mirthlessly as he followed after you. He plucked a pink flower off a bush as he went before he went and settled next to you on the floor. He held it out to you, eyeing you carefully. Your anger at Frank amused him. You didn't seem to understand that Frank wasn't pissed at you or because of you in the way you thought. He was pissed because he didn't like you being a human pet. Didn't agree with Billy owning you. But you'd taken it all wrong and Billy enjoyed it. Enjoyed how you were mad and got defensive of him. He was playing into it, being overly sweet to you so you'd feel even more sorry for him. While he knew he wasn't a good guy, he honestly didn't think he deserved to be treated this way by his own brother.

You took the pretty flower in your hand and gave him a warm smile. You looked at it and twirled it by the stem with your fingers.

"I was able to identify four different birds this morning," you stated out loud if it'd interest him.

His lips tugged up as he leaned closer to you, his arm brushing yours.

"Yeah? Why don't you show me which ones?" He asked, glancing to the book. You smiled and put the flower in your hair before opening the book and scooting closer to him.

*****

"Frank, may I have a word with you?" Curtis asked Frank, looking at Billy walking away. Frank heaved a sigh as he moved over to sit next to him. He was listening to the conversation between Billy and his pet. It confused him and he didn't like it. Didn't like that Billy was keeping what was essentially a human slave at all. Didn't like that his brother didn't seem to understand why it was wrong.

"What's up?" Frank asked gruffly, glancing to the side at Curtis.

Curtis exhaled loudly and shook his head. He didn’t know where to start so he decided to just dive right into it.

“I know you’re upset with Billy, about the whole human pet slave shit going on. And I’m not saying I approve of this,” Curtis said raising a hand to stop Frank from cutting him off,

“I don’t approve of this and you know it. But I believe your attitude and the shit you’ve said since their arrival is hurting the wrong person here,” he added while taking a sip of coffee, wishing he took it the Irish way this morning.

Frank blew out a breath, running his hands over his short hair restlessly. He knew Curtis was right. He'd heard your words at dinner last night, wondering why he was being mean to you. He wasn't being mean to you though, his issue was with Billy. The Billy here now wasn't the same one he knew and loved. And while he wasn't lost completely and he knew there was still some Billy there, he was much more savage and sadistic. Frank had witnessed Billy killing innocent people for sport and that's when the fractures in their friendship started. Ever since Maria and the kids were killed, Billy turned cold. Instead of it making him want to be better, more humane, it turned him the opposite way and Frank hated it. Just because they were vampires didn't mean they had to be cruel. Frank refused to let his condition rule him. He might not technically be human anymore but he still had his humanity. Something Billy seemed to have lost when his family died. He knew how cruel he could be and he dreaded to think of the shit he was subjecting you to. It hurt him to think these things about his own brother but he knew just what Billy was capable of now. He was hurt and angry at the world for what he'd lost and he'd decided to lean into his savage and animalistic nature to fill the void. 

“I’m just saying that her reality might be different from ours, from yours. That so far the shitshow you’ve been pulling out of anger at Billy, for her it could mean that you don’t want her around, that you hate her for being Billy's pet, that she's unwanted and unwelcome here,” he said, hanging his head down and shaking it. He didn’t like this situation either but the poor girl wasn’t to blame and definitively didn’t deserve to feel unwanted, especially here.

“And I’m pretty sure it’s not how you’d want her to feel,” he said last, staying quiet to let Frank think it through.

"It's not," Frank muttered, shaking his head as he looked over to where you and Billy were sitting together. 

"I'll try and talk to her or somethin'. Let her know I'm not upset with her. If he lets me," he rolled his eyes just knowing Billy would be awkward about it. He was worried how far Billy had taken this with you. Were you being compelled all of the time? You'd said you weren't food but Frank didn't believe that for a second. Billy loved blood as much as sex and it was even better if he could mix them together. Why else would he have a pretty girl like you as a pet? He knew sex was involved because he'd heard you both the night before. Everyone had. The idea of Billy compelling you to have sex with him and feeding off you made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Good,” Curtis said, gripping Frank’s shoulder in a brotherly manner before leaving him to his thoughts and hoping to fuck dinner would go better tonight.

*****

“Salad,check. Veggies, check. Potatoes...almost done,” you mumbled, pointing and looking around the kitchen and making sure you haven’t forgotten anything. Billy snorted as he watched you as he checked on the potatoes. 

“You sure they won’t mind the steaks being cooked rare, right?” you asked once again, taking the uncooked steaks out of the fridge to prepare last. Billy obviously took his blue rare and bloody, you always said he took his warmed up and not cooked.

"Nah, it's how they like 'em," he shrugged vaguely. He couldn't exactly tell you why that was so that was all he'd tell you. It wasn't like humans didn't like rare steaks so it wasn't completely weird. He'd enjoyed cooking with you and he was glad he'd told Karen he'd do the dinner that night. It was how it used to be. Billy would cook sometimes when he was over since he was so good at it and he liked doing it. You were also a pretty good cook. You'd picked it up well when he'd taught you and you never got under his feet or pissed him off in the kitchen. Not like the time he tried to cook with Micro's help. He'd never do that shit again.

You looked up hearing someone enter the kitchen and froze seeing it was Frank. You cleared your throat nervously and busied yourself with finishing up preparing dinner.

"Oh great, it's you," Billy drawled dryly, not even looking at him.

"I uh… I just wanted to talk to Y/N… alone," Frank replied, sounding tense. Billy looked at him then, eyes narrowed to slits. He couldn't deny he was curious about what the fuck Frank wanted with you. He was hardly a threat to your safety so he wasn't worried about that. Billy turned his eyes to you then looking like he was unsure.

"It'll just take a minute," Frank bit out, seeming to have a hard time looking at Billy. You nodded to Billy and handed him the bowl of salad to take to the dinner table in the next room.

Billy rolled his shoulder as he shot Frank a glare.

"Fine. But imma be right out there," he started with a glower, stepping closer to Frank.

"And don't forget I can hear every fuckin' thing that comes outta your mouth," he sneered, purposely bumping into his shoulder as he stomped out of the room, keeping an ear out in case he needed to rush back in and stop whatever was about to take place. 

Frank sighed once he left and looked at you sheepishly.

"I know I ain't really been… the nicest person and I know you think I don't like you or some shit. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. My issue ain't with you. It's with Billy and it's been… it's been this way before you came along. But I want you to know that you are welcome here and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he muttered wearily.

You stared at him blinking dumbly, his words taking you off guard. It definitely wasn’t what you were expecting but it was nice to hear him say this. He clearly made you feel unwelcome and shitty since you stepped on his front porch with Billy. You sighed and looked up at him, he seemed sincere.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.  Frank nodded, standing there awkwardly for a moment. He opened his mouth to say something else but promptly shut it. Billy was listening and he knew what he wanted to say would start more drama. He couldn't apologise to you and then cause more bullshit because you'd get upset again. He remembered Curtis' words, how you had a different reality. He dreaded to think what reality you had. He knew the second you said you'd come from Nevada what kind of place you'd been in. He'd heard of that place and others like it. And he doubted Billy did much to help shape your reality to be as it should be. Some of the shit you'd come out with at dinner the day before proved that.

“Billy told me a lot about you, you know. It’s just not how I pictured it, like,” you said before stopping to think about what was family to you.

“I just didn’t picture you two to hate and pick on each other like that,” you added with a little frown.

“Not that I’d know anything about it anyway,” you mumbled, taking the steaks out of their packaging.

"We don't hate each other," he said firmly, his brows furrowed deeply. He didn't know how to feel about Billy telling you about him, knowing he still cared and spoke about him like he mattered.

"It's just… it's complicated," he sighed sadly.

You nodded absentmindedly, checking the grill temperature before adding the steaks with a searing sound. You thought about what Frank said, biting the inside of your cheek in a nervous tick. You hoped dinner was gonna go smoother than yesterday or you guys were gonna need a whole lot of wine.

“Shit! Wine!” You said loudly, smacking the palm of your hand on your forehead. You totally had forgotten to get wine when you went out at the store with Billy earlier. You whirled around looking everywhere on the countertops like they would appear. The steaks would be ready in minutes and would be stone cold by the time you’d be back home.

“Hey, don’t worry about that.I’ll go get us good bottles from the cellar, right?” Frank proposed with a friendly smile. It truly was a simple thing to fix and he’s been looking for a reason to take the good stuff out. You gave him a timid smile and nodded.

“That’d be lovely, thanks,” you said, feeling a bit silly at forgetting to add it to the list earlier. Billy hadn’t mentioned it either but being what he was, you weren’t too surprised.

He swiftly left and a few seconds later Billy came into the kitchen. He'd heard the whole thing. He should have known Frank's conscience would get the better of him. While he was pleased he hadn't been shit talking him and that he might stop being an asshole, he felt a little tense about the whole thing.

You plated the food with Billy’s help and looked at the finished product proudly. It really looked and smelled delicious!

"Smells real good," he said, watching you carefully. It was rare human food actually smelt good to him these days but the very rare steaks had his mouth watering. 

“I think we make an alright team,” you said with a wink. You giggled at his face and picked up two plates to start serving. He rolled his eyes as he snorted, grabbing some of the other plates before he made his way into the other room to put them on the dining table.

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly and uneventful. You wondered if the overflowing wine had to do with any of it but you clearly enjoyed this one a lot more than the last. Billy was much more relaxed without Frank glaring at him the whole time and without the biting remarks. The conversation was easy and it almost started to feel like old times. 

“Wait. What do you mean you don't know what a carnival is?” said an offended Micro from the other couch in front of you. After dinner you all moved to the living room, with the bottles of wine, to chat and relax. Things seemed normal, natural almost between everyone. No awkwardness, just people chilling together with drinks.

“Well, I’ve never…” You looked back at Micro with a bashful smile, you really had no clue what he was talking about and it seemed to cause him great offence. You looked up at Billy for help but he seemed as amused as the others at Micro’s reaction.

"Just ignore him. He gets excited about stupid shit," Billy snorted as he sipped at his wine. 

“Oh come on! Cotton candy! Candied apples! Rides! Stupid rigged games for overpriced plushies! Nothing? No?” Micro said in a last attempt to save your honor. You giggled into your wine glass and drank more of it.

“No… But it does sound amazing. Can you go on the rides and stuff?” you asked Micro with sparkling eyes, already picturing the colorful lights, the music and the sweet smell of candies and popcorn. You were pretty sure you’ve seen it once in a movie but you had no clue they were an actual thing you could go to.

Billy glanced at you, feeling that weird dull ache in his chest that he'd had the day you'd first seen snow. He frowned, shifting in his seat as he downed the rest of his wine. Not that it would get him drunk. He had no idea what it was. If his heart was working he might worry he was having issues with it.

“Yeah! You pay the entry fair and you have access to all of them! You pay for the water guns and all the stupidly addicting rigged games, the food but it’s truly wonderful! It’s in two days too! I dunno about you guys but I sure as hell am going,” Micro said with a scoff, as if it was an option not to go. Vampire or not, he could still have fun and enjoy the little things.

“That sounds really fun. Would you take pictures for me? I’d love to see it,” you said, feeling envy settle in your chest. You took a long sip of your drink and sighed, staring at the flames in the fireplace.

Billy's dark eyes drifted to you again and the ache got worse. The look of wonder you'd been wearing was nowhere to be seen now and it was replaced by a stupidly sad look instead. He should have left it alone. Pets didn't get to go to carnivals. And that's what you were, his pet. One he'd paid for to obey him. Yet his mouth opened and the words came out before he had a chance to stop them.

"You wanna go?" He asked quietly, watching you carefully.

It took a while for you to realise he was talking to you. You looked at everyone and they were all looking at you waiting for you to talk. You turned your head to Billy and replied with the dumbest answer ever.

“What, me?” you asked stunned. He couldn’t possibly ask YOU if you wanted to go to a carnival, with hundreds of other humans, where you’d be able to make a scene and run for it. Not that you wanted to these days. It had to be a horrible joke where he’d dangle it in front of you to snatch it away.

"Yeah you. You ain't ever been to one before so…" he trailed off awkwardly, uncomfortable with all the eyes on you both as his fingers tapped on his glass. He didn't even know why he'd bothered to suggest it. Why he was being so… nice. You'd been a good girl. That had to be it. Rewards were just as important as punishments to reinforce behaviour after all.

Your stunned expression slowly turned into an overexcited, unbelievably happy one. You squealed loudly and nodded quickly at him with the widest smile that ever appeared on your face. You jumped onto his lap without thinking and gave him probably the biggest hug he ever received. It caught him off guard but he wrapped his arms around you, unsure on how to react. It felt weird in front of everyone. The ache in his chest eased up and made way for something else but he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

“Thanks. I’ll be good, I promise,” you said in his ears before scooting over back to your seat, unable to stop grinning. You finished your drink and Karen reached over to pour you another one. She seemed excited and happy for you, looking up at Billy and giving him a warm smile.

***

"Whoops!" Said a very tipsy you missing a step going upstairs to your room. You giggled feeling Billy grab you and hold you the rest of the way. You wrapped your legs and arms around him and bit his neck with a playful growl. He hadn't realised how much you'd been drinking. Usually he'd let you have one glass of wine, if that, but tonight the wine had been flowing. It was kind of cute seeing you this way and he snorted as he carried you up the stairs and to your room.

You staggered a bit when he put you down and you giggled. Maybe you had a bit too much wine tonight but it felt great, like you could take on the world. He knelt in front of you to help you out of your leggings, you ran a hand in his hair and gripped it. He felt a stab of desire run through him and he glanced up at you curiously.

"You look good down there," you said boldly, licking and raking your teeth over your lower lip. A sly smirk made its way onto his face as he quirked a brow. This would be incredibly interesting.

"Is that right?" He drawled, amused and intrigued at this new behaviour.

"Mmhmm!" You replied, moving your hands to his shoulders. You half pushed him backwards, half fell on top of him on the floor groaning and rubbed your whole body on him like a cat in heat.

"Kitten wants to play," you said in a very suggestive and purring voice, trailing sloppy open-mouthed kisses and bites down his neck. You've never wanted him this bad, the liquid courage coursing through your veins making you bold and needy for him.

He really hadn't expected this but he felt himself completely harden in seconds at your words and the attention you were giving him. He tilted his head to give you more access as he hummed, enjoying the feeling of it and his hands moved to your hips as he let you have your fun.

You sat up quickly pulling your dress over your head and yanked his shirt off with a wicked smirk. You leaned forward and kissed him hard, raking your nails down his chest leaving angry red scratches. He groaned, leaning into the pain as he bit down on your lower lip. You unbuckled his belt and did a quick work of his jeans, yanking them down his long legs with his boxers and quickly crawled back on top of him. You straddled his lap, hands clawing at his chest keeping you steady as you rubbed your very wet pussy over his hard cock making you moan.

He couldn't take his dark eyes off you, moaning softly at how soaked you were and how good it felt as you glided over his cock. His fingers bit into your hips as he stared up at you, really enjoying this side of you. He might have to let you drink more often if this was what happened.

"Kitten wants you," you said, making him smirk wickedly at you. This time you knew how to angle yourself to take him in without his help. He slid right in all the way to the hilt, making you gasp and hum in pleasure. His back arched, lips open as a filthy moan left them at your tight pussy taking his cock so eagerly. He'd never tire of how good you felt wrapped around him. You fucked yourself on his cock without his help and it felt glorious.

He resisted the urge to take control and fuck you senseless. He was enjoying you taking the reins, having you do all the work. You were being such a needy little whore for him and he was drinking in every second of it. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly but he didn't move you up and down as he wanted. He lay there, moaning wantonly at the pleasure you were inflicting on him. You were riding him like you'd die if you didn't and he felt his whole body set on fire. He didn't have a moment for any dirty words or cocky comments. The only sounds leaving his lips were dirty moans and lewd groans as he let the pleasure consume him.

You moaned as you moved your hips around his cock deep inside you. Your whole skin pickled with pleasure and you ran your hands over your body enjoying the feeling. He was letting you take him however you wanted and you loved it.

He was trying to take a back seat as much as possible, letting you fuck yourself on him like the needy little kitten you were, but he couldn't lay there and do nothing. One of his hands wandered up your body, taking in your soft curves as he went. He growled, fangs descending, eyes changing, as a hand wound around your throat. He didn't apply much pressure, he kept it light knowing you'd most likely freak out. But he could feel your pulse thundering under his hand, and smell how aroused you were. All of his senses were overwhelmed by you and your need for him and the beast had come out to play in response. The need to sink his teeth into your neck was overwhelming and suddenly it was like a light bulb went off in his head as an idea hit him. It was something he'd thought of before but now you were so needy and drunk, he was sure he'd finally be able to do it.

"You wanna please me and be a very good girl, right?" He asked in a low voice, staring up at you with his red eyes.

You looked down at him and nodded as you slowed down, curiosity taking over.

“Yes. Anything,” you replied, caressing his chest.

"You like havin' my cock in you? Like bein' a spoiled little kitten?" He asked, raising a brow as his fingers flexed on your hips.

“I doo,” you answered in a needy voice, sliding off him and rubbing him against your clit instead.

"Go lay on the bed, hands above your head," he demanded roughly, excitement over what he was about to do running rampant in him.

You obeyed instantly, thankfully the bed wasn’t far enough for you to trip again. You flopped down on it with a series of giggles and laid down on the bed with your arms above your head. You bit your lower lip, anticipation making your whole body vibrate.

He was thoroughly amused as he watched you and he stood, making his way over to the closet where he'd unpacked all of your stuff. After rummaging around for a moment, he returned with two of the new scarves he'd bought you. He climbed onto the bed next to you, making quick work of tying your wrists together before he looped the scarf through the headboard.

You tensed under him, your body instinctively jerking on the bonds, you looked at him with a slight unease, wondering if you misunderstood the situation.

He leaned down, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly before he carefully grasped your jaw, looking down at you.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, a sinister grin on his face as his fangs poked out. It was an incredibly blunt and loaded question but you were drunk and he wondered what your answer would be. You looked into his dark and red eyes, your heart hammering and your head confused between fear and desire.

“In theory,” you replied, still unsure where this was going but not wanting it to stop ethier.

He let out an amused laugh at your answer as he moved to kneel back up. He grabbed the other scarf and trailed it down your sternum softly, eyes glued to you.

"I'm gonna put this over your eyes. Ain't gonna hurt you. It's gonna heighten your other senses, make you more sensitive to touch," he murmured, the silky soft scarf brushing over your breasts as he raised a brow with an enticing smirk on his face.

You arched into the feeling and gasp quietly, the scarf cool and smooth against your hot skin. You nodded and licked your lips looking down at him.

His smirk widened and he leaned over you again, this time carefully tying the scarf around your face to cover your eyes. Once he was satisfied it was on right, he placed a firm and quick kiss to your lips before he moved back to kneel between your legs.

You moved your head around trying to see but it was pitch black, you couldn’t take a peek at him. You felt his hand on your leg and you gasped. It definitely was heightening his touch, you stayed very still and tried to listen, predict his movements.

"I'm just gonna go grab some more wine. I'll be back in a minute," he murmured before he hopped off the bed, swiping his boxers off the floor and putting them back on. He didn't bother with the rest of his clothes. He gave you one last look, a dark smirk on his lips before he left the room. The house was mostly quiet as he made his way downstairs to where he knew Frank stored the blood bags. Billy hated the stuff. It didn't compare to fresh and warm blood, even if you tried to warm it up. It was like choosing instant noodles instead of some fancy cuisine. He had to make do with it though since he was here, at least he could have some fun while he was at it. 

He grabbed a blood bag, curling his top lip in disgust as he looked at it and then he grabbed another bottle of red wine. The one you'd enjoyed the most all night. Apparently you had expensive taste, he was mildly impressed. He made his way back up to the room you both shared without anyone bothering him thankfully. When he shut the door behind him, his dark eyes trailed over you, the predator in him purring at the sight of you tied up like this for him.

“Boo!” you said with giggles. You had heard him come back and you couldn’t help yourself. You grinned and tried to move your head to locate him around the room, might as well had tried to listen for shadows.

He was more than amused by how intoxicated you were, snorting to himself as he moved further into the room.

"Someone's a happy drunk," he murmured with a wry smirk, putting the blood bag on the bed but out of the way so you wouldn't touch it with your legs by accident. He opened the bottle of wine, taking a long pull as his eyes drank you in greedily. 

“Shush...that wine was amazing. Can you get me more for home?” you boldly asked of him with a little pout.

"If you're a good girl, you can have whatever you want," he replied before he poured a little of the wine in the valley between your breasts, licking it off your skin. The wine would make more of a mess than the blood would but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

You gasped and moved upward, the liquid cool and trailing off the side of your ribcage. You moaned, feeling his tongue savour your skin.

“Anything I want, hum?” you repeated, a wicked smirk appearing on your face.

"Within reason," he replied amused, slowly dripping some more wine on your skin and letting it pool into your belly button. He lapped at it before placing some open mouthed kisses to your lower stomach. You giggled, the liquid and his tongue tickling you and making you squirm under him. You moved your legs around him, pressing him closer to you between your legs.

He moved to set the bottle of wine on the floor beside the bed before he grabbed the blood bag. He pierced it with a fang, watching with rapt attention as he repeated his earlier motions and dripped it between your breasts. He felt a wave of desire like nothing he'd ever felt before as he watched it slowly trail to your neck. A deep growl left him as he hovered over you, slowly licking it up and not wasting a drop.

You moaned and squirmed under him, his tongue painfully teasing you. You wanted so much more as you arched into him and hooked your legs around his hips tightly.

“More, please,” you whispered, pulling on the bonds at your wrists. You whined feeling his tongue leave your skin and silently begged him to touch you.

He settled between your thighs on his stomach with a smirk, licking his lower lip as he poured a little of the blood at the top of your pussy and watched as it slowly trickled down, over your clit and to your entrance. He greedily lapped it up with a moan, enjoying the way the usually shitty blood tasted when it was mixed with you.

You gasped feeling the cool liquid run down between your legs and cried out when you felt him eat you greedily. The sensations were so intense it overwhelmed you and you begged for it again,

“Again, please” you said breathlessly, moving your hips around his face.

He chuckled darkly, letting more blood trail down your pussy as he licked it up. He kept up a slow and steady stream of blood coming from the blood bag as he eagerly licked and lapped at you, making sure he caught every drop that left the bag. He was rubbing himself against the mattress for some friction, feeling himself drowning in his arousal at the whole thing.

Your entire body trembled under the pleasure and you felt your climax building up quickly the longer he devoured you. The only things you could hear were the loud beating of your heart and your heavy breathing.

“Please, I’m so close,” you whined, unable to feel him inside you yet and very much wanting him to. You’d take anything at this point, his cock, his fingers, the freaking bottle, you were so far gone.

He used the hand not holding the bag and shoved two fingers inside of you quickly. He was lost in his desire and his process of feeding as he fucked you hard and fast with them, still hungrily lapping at the blood on your pussy. He loved mixing feeding with pleasure but he couldn't really do that with you, couldn't feed off you unless he wanted you dead. This was the next best thing and it was incredibly erotic, even if the blood was cold and not fresh.

You came in a fireworks of moans and screams of pleasure, yanking at the bonds so hard the silk scarf made a small ripping plea sound. You wanted to touch him, run your hands in his soft hair and scratch his perfect skin. Your chest had the fuzzy warm feeling again and a tiny tear escaped your eyes, the soft silk drinking it instantly. This was something he already did to you, tie you up to the bed but it felt so good under the right setting. He wanted to torture you but it was a pleasing torture, a teasing one which made your head spin.

He eased you through it with his mouth and fingers before he licked you completely clean. He finished the little blood left in the blood bag before he tossed it to the floor, grabbing his cock and pushing it inside of you without warning. He felt high from you and the blood and the beast only wanted one thing right then, to find his own release. 

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo smut #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfics #billy russo x you #ben barnes #billy russo/reader #billy russo x y/n #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #bin bons #vampire!billy #vampire!billy russo #dark!billy russo #vampire billy

[babyiamperfectforyou]

IT'S YOU

Chapter 7

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Coarse language.

A/n : Hey everyone, as promised, Here's the next chapter. Enjoyy!!!

Xoxo,

G and M

Previous part l Next part

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Y/N was nervous and excited at the same time. Nervous because she was going to see Harry, excited, also because she was going to see Harry. Was he okay? Even though Steffin told her that he was okay and that he just needed to rest, she couldn’t believe him until she saw Harry with her own two eyes.

She reached home and took a shower. After making herself some food, she decided to get ready. She couldn’t even decide what to wear, her thoughts revolved around one arrogant jerk named Harry Styles. After an hour of searching for clothes, she finally decided on an olive dress. Not too formal, not that casual either. She wore beige sandals with it and finished off her look with some lip gloss and some mascara.

She took her clutch, took her phone out and texted Daniel that she won’t be there, if he decided to drop by. She was trying to read a book when she saw Steffin’s car. She locked the apartment and went outside. Steffin, on seeing her, got out and opened the door for her. She thanked him and got in and saw his father, Mr Tomas in the car. He smiled at her kindly.

Kenneth Tomas, Steffin’s father, was living a retired life in the suburbs. He was in his early sixties, with a salt and pepper mustache and beard.

“Good evening Sir.” She greeted him.

“Good evening, Y/N, it's been a while, how have you been?” He beamed at her.

“I'm good, Sir. Everything is going great. How are you?”

“I'm fine. I heard that you were promoted?”

“Yes, I'm really grateful ."

“Steffin told me that you're one of the best employees in the company. I'm proud of you, my dear.”

“Thank you Sir.” She turned to Steffin, “Thank you Mr. Tomas”.

“Oh, Y/N, call me Steffin, you're not my employee right now, we're just friends, aren't we?”

“Um.. Okay.. Mr, I mean Steffin” She said and he chuckled.

“So, let's get going then, shall we?” asked Mr. Tomas.

“Yeah, sure, it's only a few blocks away from here. We'll be there in half an hour.” Steffin said and started the car.

During the journey, Y/N found herself zoning out. She was thinking about Harry. He was kind enough to bring her home and take care of her after she passed out, he was kind enough to prepare breakfast for her in the morning. She felt guilty for not checking up on him when he was absent for almost a week and assuming the worst when in reality, he was innocent.

She could have called him, but she let her ego get in the way.

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

She was startled when the vehicle came to an abrupt halt in a familiar yard. Harry’s house. She remembered coming there once, at his promotion party.

She still remembers his house very clearly. They all got out of the car, Steffin had opened the door once again for her. Mr Tomas knocked on the door and waited for an answer.

The door swung open to reveal a very enthusiastic Anne, and she looked so happy to see them.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise”, she said.

“Hey Anne, it's good to see you. When did you come?” Ken asked, giving her a sideways hug.

“I landed on Tuesday evening, I don’t even know what’s going on. He can’t even care for himself, how am I going to live in peace when he is this clumsy?”

She shook her head.

“Steffin, I didn't see you there. It's been a long time.” She patted Steffin on the shoulder and that’s when she saw Y/N. Even though she had seen her only once, she seemed to remember her.

“Oh my God, is that Y/N? Long time no see. How have you been kiddo?” She engulfed her in a warm hug.

“I'm good, how are you Anne?” She replied.

“Why don’t we take this inside?There's an old man who can't stand in the cold for long”, Ken said and everyone laughed.

“Oh I'm so sorry, come in guys” Anne invited them in.

“I hope you'll stay for dinner, I'm making stew and dumplings”, she added.

“Stew and dumplings? Yes, we’ll stay for dinner” Ken’s answer was spontaneous.

“Now tell me Anne, where's my boy ? How is he?”

“He’s in his room, Ken. The doctor has suggested complete rest for a couple weeks. He’s okay. It hurts sometimes. He can limp but someone should be here to look after him, at least for this week. He keeps saying no, though. I think it hurt his ego.” she laughed.

Steffin handed over the flowers he had brought and Anne took them away to cut the base and put them in a vase.

She came back a minute later and invited them to go with her to see Harry. The room was very neat and tidy. It accurately presented his character. There was a couch in the corner, a reading chair and table and on it, a stack of books could be seen. She suddenly thought about how messy her room always was and what he’d have thought about that when he spent a night there.

He was sleeping peacefully on the bed when they entered the room. His hair was messy from being on the bed for long.Y/N wanted to run her fingers through the unruly curls.He had a stubble on his face, indicating that he hadn’t shaved in a week. He was wearing a white t-shirt and grey shorts and his right leg, as well as his right hand, was bandaged. She had never seen him in comfy clothes before. It felt so domestic and intimate.

“Honey, wake up, look who’s here”, Anne told him softly.

His eyes fluttered open, he looked around and caught sight of Mr. Tomas. He smiled at him and tried to sit up, wincing at the pain.

Mr. Tomas helped him sit up, but he said he could do it himself.

“How are you, my boy?” Ken asked with concern in his voice.

“I'm fine…I'll just have to rest a couple weeks but I'm okay”, he said.

“I can see that. How did you get into the accident in the first place?” Ken asked.

“He says he doesn't remember anything.” Anne said, obviously not believing him.

“It’s the truth..I … Uh… don't remember anything, it all happened so quickly.”He countered.

“What do you mean you don't remember anything? You should have some idea how it happened.” Steffin cut in.

“I just…don't know,” he shrugged.

“I think you should inform the police.” Steffin’s voice was serious.

“I already told you the other day, there's no need for that, Steffin” Harry sighed.

“Huh? So you haven’t informed the police yet?” Y/N suddenly asked and everyone turned to look at her. That was when Harry noticed her. His face lit up.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Uh…Hi…” She could feel her cheeks heating up.

"Hey" He breathed out.

“This is exactly what I was talking about.He wouldn't file a complaint” Anne interrupted.

“Fine, I'll do it, mum”,he seemed annoyed.

Y/N smiled seeing this interaction, she had never seen him lose an argument.

“Okay then, I'll get you guys something to drink and then get to cooking”, Anne announced.

“I'll help you, let them catch up with everything that happened.” Ken offered.

“No no, it's fine” Anne refused.

“Oh come on Anne, it’s the least I could do.” Ken said.

“Okay then, Harry, don’t leave your bed,” Anne said sternly.

Harry looked like he was about to protest but Steffin interrupted,

“I’ll make sure of that, Anne”

Anne and Ken left the room, leaving the three of them alone.

“So, how’s your little vacation going on, Harry? Having fun in bed, huh?” Steffin mocked.

“Oh, fuck off, Steffin”, Harry cursed him.

Y/N laughed as well, catching on to the innuendo. Harry looked at her, shaking his head, a lazy smile adoring his perfect pink lips. She was so caught up in the moment that she didn't realize Steffin taking her hand, asking her to follow him.

It didn't go unnoticed by Harry and he frowned.

Steffin pointed at Harry and said, “Come on, Y/N, I'll show you some of this gentleman’s embarrassing childhood pics.”

Harry’s whole demeanor changed at that. He looked somewhat scared.

“You wouldn’t.”, he said.

“Yeah? Try me.” Steffin smirked.

“I swear to God I will kill you.”

“Did you forget, Harry? You're not supposed to move from your bed”

“Don’t do it” he said through gritted teeth.

Y/N could see how close they were from that mere interaction, they must be good friends if he was to pull a trick like this.

Steffin’s hand never left Y/N’s. He dragged her towards Harry’s bedside table and started rummaging the drawers and took out an old photo album. He flipped through the pages and handed it over to her. In the photo was a young Harry, about 4 or 5 years old, grinning, one hand on his hip and the other curled into a fist. And, he was wearing a bra. He looked adorable, to say the least.

Harry buried his face in his hands.

She was not sure if he was angry or just embarrassed. So she tried to walk towards his bed to ask him but her leg hit the leg of the table and she tripped, falling face first. She caught hold of Harry’s bed in reflex, but fell either way.

“Y/N… Are you-”

Before Harry could finish, Steffin came over to her, bent down and picked her up and sat her on the edge of Harry’s bed and took her swollen ankle in his hand. He looked at her with concern.

“Shit. Um, I'll bring ice”, Steffin said.

“Uh, Actually, I'm fine, it's okay...Steffin.” She said. Even though her ankle had hit somewhere, it hadnt sprained, though it hurt. He did not wait for her response and left the room.

Harry watched the whole scene keenly. When did Y/N and Steffin get on a first name basis? He didn’t like the way his name rolled off her lips. Even though he was annoyed at this, he was worried for her.

Before he could ask if he could do anything, Steffin re entered the room with an ice pack in his hand. He carefully placed it on her ankle and put her leg up on a plastic chair.

“It’s going to be fine” He said and squeezed her shoulder gently.

Anne and Mr. Tomas had come with him to see if she was alright.

“Are you alright, dear?” Anne asked, concerned.

“Oh my god, I'm fine, I just hit my foot,” She said, embarrassed.

“This boy here scared us for a moment,” said Mr Tomas and punched his arm, and he just shrugged, smiling.

“Now, come on kids, I'll get you something to drink.” Steffin, Anne and Ken left the room.

“I'll be there, just a few minutes” Y/N said.

She looked at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you okay?”, he asked genuinely.

“Yeah, I'm fine, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?”

“Like you care,” he scoffed.

“What are you talking about? Of course I care for my-”

She wanted to say friend, but she did not know if they were friends, what if her saying that out angered him? So she said,

“Colleague .”

“Then, yeah, I'm good, colleague.” he huffed, putting extra emphasis on the word colleague.

She felt like his words contained pure hatred towards her and she didn't even know what she did. The sudden change in Harry’s behaviour confused her. It’s like he was back to being that asshole she was used to, and not the Harry she saw a few days ago.

“Why are you acting like this, Harry?,” she sighed.

“Like what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Like you don’t like me coming here, or worse, like you don’t like me at all?”

He was not expecting that at all, he looked taken aback and somewhat…. hurt.

“You have a lot of people who love you and care about you, Y/N. So, you don’t have to worry about me liking you or not.”

“What happened to you, Harry? Last time we saw each other, you were friendly to me, what happened to that Harry? Why did you leave so urgently? What was that about?” At this point, she wasn't holding back either.

“I…I had something important come up.” He stuttered.

“Oh yeah? What was it?” She questioned.

Harry wore an exasperated expression. He tried to bring his hand up to his hair, but he tried to lift the plastered hand, grimacing.

Y/N suddenly sprang to her feet, not caring about her own pain.

“Hey, careful…”

She sat down near him, leaned down and examined his hand. She looked sad and concerned and Harry felt bad.

“Um… I am sorry, Y/N..I was just…”

“Just what?” Seeing his face, she sighed and said,

“You should learn to take care of yourself, Harry.”

“Yeah, I will,” he said, as if he didn’t want to disappoint her more than he already did.

“And about tuesday, I was just not in the mood to have breakfast and I had some errands to run, that's why I had to leave so soon. And besides, you had company, so it wouldn't have mattered even if I stayed. What was his name again?”

There it is, he didn’t like Daniel.

“Dan” she said timidly.

“Yeah, Dan” He spat.

Y/N felt like she had to tell him about Dan. She didn’t know why but she felt so.

“Dan has been my best friend since my childhood. He's been there for me through thick and thin. He's almost like my brother, no he IS my brother.”

Hearing that, Harry visibly relaxed. His frown disappeared. So, he wasn't her boyfriend. He replied, as if it hadn't affected him.

“You didn't have to explain anything to me.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”, she said and he smiled at her.

“Yeah?” He seemed happy.

“Yeah.” She replied with a soft smile.

His left hand found its way to the apple of her cheeks and his thumb caressed it. She saw his eyes flicker from her eyes to her lips, as if asking for her permission. Her lips parted in shock but she found herself leaning towards him. She was only an inch from him, his breath hot on her cheeks, when they were interrupted by Anne’s voice calling out to her from the living room,

“Y/N, where are you? Come have a drink”.

She suddenly pulled away from him. Her mind was racing, what just happened?

“Uh..Yeah, I'm coming…” She stuttered out and stood up.

She looked at him to realize that she had royally fucked up, because he looked shocked to his core. Did she just imagine him looking at her lips? Did she just try to kiss Harry?

“I…” She didn’t complete the sentence and ran out of the room.

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

Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated!😊❤️

Masterlist

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Taglist: @mendesblurb @violetsandfluff @reveriehs @a-strange-familiar @swiftmendeshoran @daphnesutton @f-folkwhore

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry edward styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry x reader #enemies to lovers #harry x y/n #harry x you #its you #harry angst #harry and y/n #harry smut #harry fluff #angst #harry styles and y/n #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #jealousy #one direction #zayn malik #louis tomlinson #love on tour #smut #fluff #niall james horan #niall horan #solo harry

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Chapter 1 - Denial

TW: vampire whumper, vampire hunter whumpee, non consensual blood drinking, mention of past staking, mention of gnarly scars

"You have a lot of nerve showing up here!" She rushed up to the vampire hastily as soon as she recognised it "Destroying my life, my celebration and endangering a whole human family wasn't enough? And apparently we're still in danger! Get out before-" she was cut short by the vampire's soft laughter.

"Before what?" he asked, eyebrows raised, he didn't turn back to look at her, instead he was pretending to browse the menu in front of him. They were standing a few feet away from the crowd waiting to be let in the restaurant. It was a big night for one of her cousins, killing their first vampire, just as she had the year before.

"Before I finish what I, apparently, didn't do properly the first time" If she had spent just a moment thinking about it, she would’ve realised it was an insane thing to do as she touched the small of his back lightly tapping to find the place she hit with the stake. Gently tracing along his spine, her chest felt tight with victory, or perhaps anxiety. In the vampire’s book that was mistake number two after not managing to kill him.

The crowd started moving behind them, most of them had already met and survived attacks from the monstrous creatures, she thought the vampire had no chance if he was discovered among them. She didn't want any disruptions at the gathering though, it wasn’t her moment, so she was willing to keep quiet if he left by himself. She'd never threaten a vampire, she wasn't dumb, but the odds here seemed to work in her favor. 

"It was more like here" he reached behind his back guiding her hand lower. She chuckled condescendingly at his nonchalance she mistook for stupid arrogance. His hand stopped at a point just above his waistline.

She winced with surprise as she felt the scar under his shirt. Even through the fabric she felt a bump that one can only truly imagine if they had a terribly healed wound. It must've been a gnarly scar there that her stake left. 

Vampire’s shouldn’t have scars. It must have been some sort of sick trick to get her to feel bad for the creature, a manipulation tactic. Still it worked, because her heart sank to the thought of wounding the other creature so badly, so close to its spine, leaving a mark on his perfect immortal skin. Coldness crept up her throat threatening to spill in the form of a cry for help. She tried to yank her hand away from his back but he held it there effortlessly. 

"Feel that? There's still a splinter in there from the stake you drove through me. It could paralyze me at any moment, y'know" he finally turned to face her, just in time for them to seamlessly join the queue entering the building. He still didn't let go of her hand, but turned the grip into a significantly more gentle, almost polite hold "Shall we?"

The sinking feeling hit in a newer wave, pressing tears to the brim of her waterline, but she couldn't cry. People did have a chance of being hurt exclusively because of her. She had no doubt he'd kill anyone in his way to get back to her. How long until someone can actually do something against the ambush from inside the crowd?

They got caught up by a group of her second cousins. The younger ones stared at the vampire curiously. 

“Who’d you bring with Carter?”

"He's my friend, Julius" The sentence vibrated through her mind before reaching her lips to escape, without any way of stopping it "he's in town for a little while, I thought I'd bring him with" not even the older cousins noticed the twitch of her eye, trying to let them know it wasn't her talking. 

"Pleasure" Julius nodded to them with a huge smile plastered on his face. 

The two of them sat at the very end of the long table, going unnoticed by nosey aunties and uncles, and far enough from the disruptive children running about. 

Some waiters emerged from what room must've been the kitchen and started taking drink orders. 

"Black tea, please" he ordered with a smile. 

"Just a glass of water" Carter was the last one to order, the waiters disappeared again. If only she could signal to them she's in terrible danger. 

"Wise choice, you're going to need that" she swallowed back another wave of tears. He gently caressed her arm raising goosebumps as he ran his fingers gently over and over her delicate skin. 

"What do you want from me?" she whispered, locking her eyes on the empty plate in front of her. He leaned in, way too close for comfort, to whisper in her ear.

"I'm taking back everything you took from me, and giving you back exactly what you gave me" Too quiet to raise suspicion, too vague to make sense of to ease her anxiety. 

... 

Julius lifted the mug to his lips, taking a big sip of the burning hot tea.

"Feed me!" he ordered, as he lowered the mug below the table away from prying eyes, if there were any. 

"What?" she snapped her head to the side to look at him. Wide-eyed, but not terrified. Well, not yet anyway. More like confused. 

"Give me your hand" he instructed, and somehow she knew not obeying was not an option at that moment. She shakliy reached her hand out for him to grab and press it to the brim of the mug. With the other hand he pulled something from his pocket. He moved so quickly she almost didn't catch the glint of the switchblade sliding dangerously close to her palm over the mug "Keep that smile on your face gorgeous” Carter felt his compulsion take over her face, keeping up the facade.

He pushed the blade down, slicing through skin and muscle, letting fresh blood fill the mug back up to his liking. He wiped her hand down the side of the mug to get any remaining drops of her blood only then did he let go.

The cut healed with magical speed, it barely took a few moments for the evidence of assault to disappear  

"H-how did you do that” she wanted to ask looking at her skin perfectly intact. 

"This is completely gross, but I licked the side of the mug before I had your hand there. It healed the cut completely, you should thank me, I was very generous with that" her thoughts were racing with each other, escape plans running over feelings of revenge, worry poisoning the mix creating the wildest combinations. 

"Thank you" she whispered absentmindedly. Not even the vampire taking a sip from his mug brought her back for a second. 

"Was that really so scary?" he laughed still keeping his voice down, he lifted the mug back to his mouth. He didn't just take a sip this time, he gulped down all of the blood.

#whump #vampire whumper #vampire hunter whumpee #oc whump #tw scars #tw knife #non consensual blood drinking #Julius and Carter #elias writes vampires #original story

[flieslikeamoron]

For the WIP game: Sleight of Hand is among my very favorite fics. I know it's nearing the end; what about writing it has surprised you, or was the most challenging, or have you loved most?

First of all thank you so much! It's definitely been a long-ass journey (I've been writing it just over a year!) so I really appreciate the folks that have kept reading, and I'm so happy you've been enjoying it.

I think the main thing that surprised me is it's so long. I've written 60-70K stuff before, but this is basically twice as long as anything I've written. It's longer than most published novels! When it took me like 30K to get the first kiss I had the classic "Oh. Oh." moment. But of realizing it was going to be a monster. 

There are a lot of challenging things! The last couple parts (16 and 17) were very scary because there's so much time and emotion invested that has to be paid off. So if those big moments where Eddie breaks or those moments of emotional catharsis don't feel authentic or fall flat then the whole entire fic I just spent a year writing doesn't work and it was all for nothing. (A little extreme, but bad endings do ruin stories! Ask Game of Thrones!) So a lot of the challenge is the mental side of psyching myself out. But it is also a writing challenge because I was trying to do a lot of things! And one challenge I didn't expect was I was so focused on getting through those two parts, when I finished them my brain was like, "Well, we did it. We're done!" And I'm going, "No, but look at all these scenes left in this outline." And my brain was like, "I don't know her." So I had to go away from it for a while and I read some books and stuff. (The Imperial Radch series. I love!) It's been clicking back in again, but that's definitely a challenge when your brain just doesn't have the juice.

But writing challenge-wise, which is probably what you actually meant. Let's see... Some of the things where I had to go through a bunch of versions. The whole thing where Eddie is getting himself to a headspace to try to be all in on this and to be brave. (After running out on Steve while he's sleeping.) So much of it's just him in his head. And then making that turn natural without over explaining tooo much. And actually just Eddie in general. Like having those moments of self-sabotage and fucking up and not turn people off the character. 

And then definitely the phone sex scene, the handcuffs, and the two love confessions. Those all felt high difficulty and took a lot to get them where I wanted them. All the sex in this fic is hitting character beats or relationship beats, but those two scenes in particular the beats are complicated. And the love confessions, you just want it to not feel cheap or unearned and to feel true to these guys. I usually don't do actual love confessions in my fics where people say "I love you." Like they say it in the way they act or they say it like "I know" in Star Wars or whatever. They needed the actual words here, and I think they've earned this moment of saying what they mean by not saying it for so long and being at the brink of the whole relationship being destroyed. But yeah, that was a challenging one. I was writing that scene almost the whole time I was writing the fic. I wrote a very, very early version of the "you're out of my league/no, you're out of mine" thing forever ago, just a few chapters in. And it was way too flippant for what the fic ended up being, but I kept adding to it and writing bits of it as I went. So there was a draft of that scene when I started that chapter, and it still took forever to refine it because the tone's off or this part doesn't work and originally the tattoo reveal part was in the same scene, but then I realized I needed to make it two separate things etc.

What have I loved the most. Well, one thing is talking to people in comments and on here about the boys and the fic and all that! That's really fun. Also two of my favorite parts that I love the most are the phone sex scene and the handcuffs. I'm sure it's at least partly because they were hard to write. What's a better feeling than being challenged and fighting with it and winning! I'm really happy with both of those scenes, and I think they do what I wanted them to do. I like to joke that porn is my art, but I think those two scenes are both examples of why it's not actually a joke. I feel like Jonas fandom elevated my porn writing, but this fic is my masterpiece. LOL this is me writing this fic.

Anyway I also love this version of the characters. And I love it when things come into the fic that weren't in the outline and weren't planned, but are the thing that was missing or that make it work better. There are a bunch of things like that but one of them is Steve drawing on Eddie at the lake (which changed what the tattoo was going to be). It was originally going to be a thing where they go back in the water, and secret underwater touches and stuff of that nature. Which would have been okay, but also would have been worse than what it is. There are people who are really good at super detailed planning and outlining down to every scene beat. And I do need basic outlines for structure and direction myself. But the magic part of writing to me is the part where you find those bits that are better than what you planned. It's frustrating because it usually takes a bunch of tries for me to find them, but I do love those moments of IT'S THIS. Oh, maybe this should have been my answer for stuff that surprised me. Oops. WELL, I HAVE COME FULL CIRCLE I GUESS. 

I don't know if any of that's the stuff you wanted to know. But thank you for asking! Thank you for reading the fic! 

#oh my gosh this is the longest #asked and answered #wip game #my fic: sleight of hand #my fic #writing #rambling