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fyorina · 4 days

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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

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hikari-kaitou · 1 year

Text

Translation from Gyakuten Saiban Fan Book

What sort of person is Miles Edgeworth?!

Phoenix's best friend and rival, Edgeworth, has gained a reputation among fans throughout the trilogy of being a man who carefully hides the chinks in his armor. Mr. Inaba and Mr. Iwamoto seem to have rather different opinions on the finer points of his character.

Mr. Inaba's comments

Interviewer: What blood type do you think Edgeworth is? (T/N: in Japan, it's believed that blood type reflects a person's personality)

Inaba: I happen to think he's type B.

Iv: What gives you that impression?

Ia: It's not so much that I dislike B types as I find them intimidating. They seem strong and I feel like I can't stand up to them. I think good-natured people can generally be found in the O type category (lol).

Iv: By the way, what type are you, Mr. Inaba?

Ia: I'm a meticulous, cleanliness-loving A type Virgo. Also, I think Franziska is an A type like me. On the outside, we look like punks, but we have a fragile side that comes out looking a bit crybaby-ish sometimes. Kinda cute, don't you think?

Iv: Actually, most players seem to feel that Edgeworth is an A type Virgo (lol). So how about his birthday?

Ia: In the winter. I feel like winter suits him.

Iv: What sort of place do you think he lives in?

Ia: Definitely not in an official residence. He seems like he's probably swimming in old heirlooms (lol).

Iv: What sort of hobbies or luxury foods do you think he enjoys?

Ia: I feel like he probably plays some expensive sports and lounges at home in his robe with a glass of wine. My image of him is that he's like a host club host. His lifestyle is like a host's (lol).

Iv: Do you think he listens to music?

Ia: I feel like if I say he listens to classical, that would make him seem too proper, so… I think he listens to new and old American and European music equally.

Iv: Do you think he has a cellphone?

Ia: He's definitely got one. One with a simple but sleek design.

Iv: And finally, what do you think his type is?

Ia: Hmmm… someone warm, I guess? This is kinda basic, but I feel like he cares more about how someone is on the inside, rather than their appearance, and he probably prioritizes personality. He might be surprisingly disinterested in women. Maybe he'd accidentally treat his partner coldly or something. Oh, I kinda touched on this earlier, but for Franziska, I think she seems like the type who'd be difficult to win over but would fall in love surprisingly easily, so I hope Edgeworth will do his best (lol).

Mr. Iwamoto's comments

Iv: Mr. Inaba said he thinks Edgeworth was born in the winter, and players overwhelmingly agreed with that. What do you think, Iwamoto-san?

Iwamoto: Edgeworth was born in June, just like me who voiced him in the games! And I think he was born in Chiba Prefecture because I was too (lol).

Iv: So from your position as the voice of Edgeworth (lol), what type of place do you think he lives in?

Iw: Either a designer penthouse, or somewhere surprisingly simple, like a place with plain concrete walls. I feel like he lives in an unexpectedly functional apartment. At least more than you might think, based on his frilly outfit.

Iv: So considering the type of room you imagine him living in, what sort of clothes do you think he wears at home?

Iw: Clothes that are out of touch with reality. Like the kinds of things most normal people wouldn't wear, or like… Like he wears silk just because, or instead of a regular shirt, a prince-like blouse. I feel like Manfred Von Karma probably influenced him there, but he dresses more plainly now than he did when he was younger (lol).

Iv: Maybe he started to notice that he didn't quite fit in with others (lol). It might be because of his frilly clothes, but he seems to be in better shape than Wright. Is his build based on your own, Iwamoto-san?

Iw: No way (lol). But I did sneakily make him the same height as myself.

Iv: Since he's in such good shape, do you think he does sports?

Iw: Maybe long distance running. He seems like the type who might go out jogging by himself in silence to "outrun his sins…" (lol)

Iv: What do you think his blood type is?

Iw: B type. I don't really have any real basis for that, he just strikes me as a B type.

Iv: And what do you think Edgeworth's type is?

Iw: Let's see, maybe someone enthusiastic and passionate? (Lol) Like maybe he likes the kind of person who charges recklessly into things? And that's not just for women but in general the type of person he likes.

Phoenix version

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #my translation #atsushi inaba #tatsurou iwamoto

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itoshi-s · 1 year

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Ive been rewriting 4th rabbit hole so much and tho i hate sending short ideas but i found this and am obsessed with it,, a cute plushie of rin is your only companion while hes away and tho it will never compare the thought of it is euphoric, giving u enough dopamine to be satiated but the real one wont be so latient with the obv disrespect -🐇 (ps what if u strap it with ur fave dildo... imma shut up now before this gets out of hand)

UWAAAAAAH NONNIEEEEE </3 please this has been livin in my head rent free...... the disreSPECT AKJHFAOIS

cw stepcest /sorry i cannot help myself akfhsalfksa this goes into the i&i au i guess

you're just too needy, all too desperate for your own good :( and it's not even your fault, rin had it coming for him tbh as soon as he got you that silly little plushie - mainly as a joke, because you teased him abt it ever since he told u the news that it's in the making - and started spraying it w his cologne every time he had to leave you for a few days. rin's rules are clear, and usually not all that hard to follow - you're not to touch yourself, at least not without his permission. you don't have much problems following through with it - not until rin leaves for a few away games in a row, and you just happen to hit a slump w all your university work.

you're all too hormonal w your ovulation coming up, too, and you just need to unwind. you're always on your best behavior, it won't hurt to abide the book for once, right? but your toys are locked in the pretty little leather case that only rin knows the code for, and your fingers just don't feel as good as your nii-chans anymore. you try to hit all the spots that would make your toes curl, but it seems like he's the only one who can do that by this point :( finally, you try to hump your pillow - well, rin's to be exact, cause it smells just like him, woody and citrusy - but it's just a tad too big, brings your legs in a weird spread that feels more uncomfy than anything else. you roll onto your back, frustration collecting along your lashline in crystalline tears, and just then you feel something dig into your lower back. reaching down, you pull the silly little plushie from under your body - and hold it up in both hands, eyes slowly widening in embarrassment upon your very own thoughts that pop up in that head of yours. it's silly, you know that, and you're not quite sure how you even got that idea in the first place - but next thing you know, the toy is already snug between your trembling thighs as you grind down on it. the embroidery feels a bit rough, just enough to help the familiar sensation build deep in your tummy, and you’re coming all over the soft plush within minutes. once the realization hits, you truly do want the earth to swallow you whole — cause it really is embarrassing, in a way, how you couldn’t even stop yourself and used the innocent sweet gift from your lovely nii san for such lewd thing. but it feels good, better than the pillows or your lithe fingers; and it smells just like rin, thanks to the generous spritz of his cologne. it helps you out numerous times during your lonely stay at rin’s paris penthouse — and you figure out you might need to treat it just like the usual, proper sex toy, and give it a proper wash. that’s where rin finds you when he comes back home — worn out and exhausted from the games and long ass flight, tugging the suitcase behind him. you don’t really hear him until he’s stood in the doorway in your laundry room, leaning against the frame. ‘hi, baby,’ he hums and startles you enough to make you jolt. your face heats up, right up to the very tips of your ears, and you grip the plush toy close to your chest- as if to hide it away. ‘nii chan- you-you’re back,’ you sound a little funny, rin thinks, and it’s what peaks his interest. you turn around, the stuffed toy in hand still, and he wouldn’t think anything of it at all if it wasn’t for your wide eyes. as if you were caught in the act — of what? he chuckles a bit and furrows his brows, cocks his head to the side slightly, ‘what’s with the look?’ rin muses, reaching a hand out to grab at your own - or maybe at the plush toy. you’re not too sure, and it makes you breathe nervously. ‘missed me much? i knew you’d like it.’ he knows something is up when you pull your hands away and give a nervous laugh <//333 and so, he fixes you a puzzled glance, cogs in his head turning as he watches you shake your head, ‘y-yeah. i- it got dirty though, spilled somethin-‘ you start to blabber and stumble over your words, and as he reaches to grab at the toy - just for the fun of it and to test you out - you quickly reach behind yourself and throw it back into the washing machine. and because he knows you all too well, each and every look of yours engraved in his mind, it clicks !!!!!! and it leaves him speechless 😭 for a second, rin’s eyes widen and he wants to laugh - he’s so amused, by the way you fidget in your spot and give him the widest eyes, embarrassed to a fault - until he realizes that no matter how cute and silly this might’ve been, you weren’t exactly good this time around. he struggles to bite back a chuckle, shaking his head a bit as he pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘you’re unbelievable, baby.’ he sighs - and as humored as he sounds, you know rin nii already. the real deal is always better. and he’s about to prove that <3

#cw stepcest #✩rin nii #ahsjskskksksks this is lowkey so cute sjsjs #but growing SO desperate until you’re ready to use anythin…. mhm😵‍💫#nonnie do not worry i truly did enjoy that one!!!!!!! put this up to the i&i au cause i think the dynamic rly fits #rin itoshi drabble #rin itoshi smut #rin itoshi x reader

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hakesbros · 1 year

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#real estate

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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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

That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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

It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I’d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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mehreya · 4 years

Text

regret

↬ wc: 3.9k

↬ pairing: bokuto kotarou x fem!reader

↬ genre: angst, fluff, soulmate au

↬ summary: you’ve always viewed the concept of soulmates negatively, or even indifferently, but bokuto kotarou quickly changes your mind.

-- send an ask to @/seraee to be on my gen taglist or fill out my form in navi!!

As life progresses, regret, you learn, is the absolute bane of your existence.

You are born in 20th century Japan, near the end of the Shōwa period, and you grow up during the Heisei period. The soulmate legend has become increasingly well-known by then; but you are raised in such times where people, although they know of the soulmate legend, refuse to believe it, or to accept it.

Your grandmother is the one to recount the soulmate tale to you, not your mother. Your mother, a few years after she’s had you, leaves you in the hands of your grandmother, too scared to be trapped in motherhood, too scared to end up like her own mother; trapped in a loveless marriage, forced to be a mother at the age of 20. Your father stays with you and your grandmother, but when you turn eight, he passes away; taken away by weary thoughts and the liquor he so loves.

You are thus left alone with your grandmother, who, though she does her best to support you, is not enough. You have to take on three other jobs at the age of fifteen just to make sure you can pay for your high school education. The idea of taking on even more jobs just to be able to afford university tires you immensely, and you decide you cannot go to university. You just can’t.

Why do you have to work so hard to go to university anyway, when you can just pick up a few years later, when you have enough money? At that point, you are convinced that because of your bad luck, you won’t be meeting your soulmate anytime soon. You’re not even sure if you want to meet him; all your friends are planning to leave to Tokyo to engage in wild partying and one night stands; none of them want to be tied down by something as fickle as love. No one wants to be like their Shōwa mothers.

You decide you do not want to be like your mother; someone who abandoned you. But you don’t want to end up like your grandmother either. Caught between a rock and a hard place, you ultimately decide if you meet your soulmate, you will try, but until then, you want to live your life the way you want to. You want to go with your friends to Tokyo and party and be free, and just not worry about financial, emotional or other materialistic problems.

So with a kiss to your grandmother’s cheek and a last look at the house you grew up in but never loved, you leave for Tokyo the minute you turn eighteen.

Tokyo is bright lights and loud noises; a rush of color and sound and everything in between. Your friends seem to enjoy it; glad they are free from the restrictions of the old village you lived in. You try to enjoy it as well, and for the first few weeks, you really do. You relish in the feeling of letting loose in clubs, dancing to your heart’s content, throwing back shots, meeting new people. It is a rush of excitement and exhilaration, and you are completely drunk on the feeling.

Three years pass just like this, full of wild nights and random strangers and drunk parties. And then one day, a realization hits you. You wake up like normal, in some unfamiliar person’s bed, your garments thrown to the side haphazardly. Feeling the urge to vomit, you slide out of bed carefully, but one look back at the man, and you know he’s out cold. You hurry to the bathroom and vomit out last night’s contents, sighing as you wash your face with cool water after you’re done.

Slipping out of the bathroom quietly, you take in your surroundings and realize you are in a penthouse. You get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can and swipe as much cash as you can carry from the rich man’s wallet, which lay near your clothes. You’re just about to head out when light peeking in from behind curtains covering the floor-length window catches your eye.

Padding over to the window, wanting to see what the view is like from the highest floor of a building, you pull open the curtains and quickly step in front of the window, closing the curtains behind you. A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you take in the sight in front of you.

The sky is a beautiful pale blue covered by white wisps of clouds, intertwining around emerging rays of sunlight peeking through. It looks so beautiful; just like the sunrises your grandma used to show you. She used to bring you up to the hilltop and used to braid your hair at the top and sing you a lullaby as you watched the sunrise with her.

This is the first time you’ve thought about your grandma in years, and tears gather at the corner of your eyes at your thoughtlessness. Is your grandma doing well? Is she taking care of herself? Is she even alive?

You twist out from behind the curtains hurriedly, gathering your belongings and practically running to the elevator, barely holding in sobs as you do so. You must have looked very strange to the people in the elevator with you, but you cannot bring yourself to care.

The second you hear the ding that signals the elevator doors are opening, you rush out, scurrying to the nearest sheltered curb you can find. And you sit down, bury your head in your hands, and you sob.

A few weeks later finds you on the train back to your home town. You’re nervous; it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your grandmother. The remorse and the regret had piled up for years, and you’d just pushed them away, but now; now, you decide it’s been too long. Too long since you visited the woman who practically raised you, too long since you talked to the one who’d loved you and cared for you when your own parents hadn’t.

And thus, you’re resolute in your decision, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to run away. The slowing down of the train, and the hoot of the train horn alerts you to the fact that you’ve arrived at your destination. Somewhat hesitantly, you step off the train and breathe in the familiar air. Though it didn’t truly feel like home, it felt good to be back.

You grab a cab, anticipation thrumming through your veins. Reaching home, you swing open the rusty white screen door and step inside gently.

“Obaa-san?” You call out softly, taking off your shoes and putting them beside the door. She calls out your name, surprised. Her voice is a feeble croak, and sounds incredibly weary, as if she might collapse any minute. Heart clenching in worry and fear, you follow the direction of her voice to her bedroom door.

Swinging it open gently, you freeze as you see the weakened figure of your ailing grandmother. Her skin is incredibly pale, and she is barely breathing, so faintly you didn’t even realize she was until you looked closely. She beckons you closer, and you step forward weakly, tears blurring the edges of your vision. “Obaa-san.” You breathe out softly, regret clogging up your throat.

“Child,” she takes a shuddering, wheezing breath, and then closes her eyes completely, too weakened to even attempt anything other than talking.

“I’m glad you’re home.” You’re crying now, but she can barely move her arms to comfort you, and that makes you cry harder.

“There, there. My time has come, (Name). My last and only wish for you,” she wheezes, and the lines on her face slowly go slack. “Is I wish you would go to college, and end up being someone successful. I hope for you to live a happy, successful life.” Her voice fades in the end, and she goes completely still. You cry out for her, but she doesn’t respond, and you spend the rest of the day mourning by her side, lamenting the fact that you were too late.

To honour your grandmother’s last wish, you enrol in Tokyo University as soon as you can. The first two years of college pass by surprisingly easy, the cash you’d accumulated from your nights out, along with the money your grandma had left you, pays well for your tuition. You still haven’t aged a bit; no grey hairs visible. That changes in your third year of college though; in the first semester of your third year of college, you meet your supposed other half.

“(Name), you are to be partnered with Bokuto Koutarou for this assignment.” Your English professor intones monotonously, before clearing his throat and reading out the next pair, leaving no room for further instructions or debate.

Having never heard that name before, you glance around the lecture hall curiously, hoping your partner will come to you instead of you having to go to him. A flash of black and white catches your eye, and you see a black-and-white haired boy walking toward you, a cheerful smile on his face. His eyes are rather unique, you note, brilliant gold with a black slit for the pupil. He kind of reminds you of an owl, at first glance, and the cautious walls you always have up are lowered slightly.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He greets cheerfully, one hand reaching out for yours in a high five, to which you comply, slightly unnerved when he slaps your palm and then pumps it up and down excitedly. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, but you can call me Bo!” He grins cheerfully, and since you usually tend to keep to yourself, the excited greeting from someone you don’t even know makes your heart warm a little.

You greet him back quietly, smiling a little as you tell him your name. He grabs a nearby chair and sits down next to you, practically bouncing in his seat. “SO,” he begins loudly, and you lean away a little, not wanting your eardrums to be blown out. “What theme are ya thinking about?” He asks, leaning toward you a little.

“I was thinking…since it’s Romeo and Juliet, we could do the easiest and most central theme, love?” You say a little uncertainly. Though you have little to no experience on the subject, aside from your grandmother, it is one of the most obvious themes of the play, and you’re sure you can make something up. The assignment basically entails analysing a theme and relating to it, then displaying it to the audience; nowhere does it say it has to be truthful.

“Sure!” He agrees cheerfully, head bobbing up and down eagerly. “Great.” you smile back. The bell is going to go in a few minutes, and you realize you still haven’t packed up your things. “Do you mind going and signing us up?”

“I gotcha!” He stands up abruptly, almost knocking into someone behind him, who just stares at him a little disgruntled, and walks away.

Before he can start walking off though, you need to set a time and place for your meeting to discuss more on the assignment. “Um, Bo-san?”

He turns around, eyes sparkling, “Just Bo is fine!” He says with a thumbs up.

“Right…Bo-kun?” you say slowly. “Man, you’re just like Akaashi!” He pouts a little. You perk up, Akaashi and you are somewhat good acquaintances; did he by any chance, know Bokuto too?

“You know Akaashi-kun?” You ask curiously. “Yeah!” He says, pointing to himself proudly, “Me and Akaashi are roommates!”

“Ah…Then, to discuss the project, we could meet up at your place?” You trust Akaashi to an extent and Bokuto seems nice enough, so you figure there’s no harm. Besides, it’s much better than your cramped little apartment. Bokuto agrees, as you expected, and then the bell rings, and you say your goodbyes.

You stare at the door in front of you, re-checking the number plate and the address Bokuto had scribbled down and shoved into your hand hastily, when you’d reminded him that you didn’t know where you lived.

You knock twice, and the door swings open to reveal an excited Bokuto. “Hey, hey! So, how long do you think this will take? Do you think it’s gonna take long? Please tell me it doesn’t take long!” You’re bombarded with questions as Bokuto hovers in front of you. Someone nudges him out of the way, and then you are met with Akaashi’s face, “Bokuto-san, please give our guest some space.” He says with a sigh.

“Oh!” Bokuto makes a face in understanding, “You’re right, Akaashi!” Akaashi shakes his head, and then looks toward you, bowing his head a little in greeting. You greet him back before stepping into their apartment, arranging your shoes by the door neatly. Akaashi murmurs something to Bokuto quietly, and you look away respectfully. You only look back when there’s a shuffling sound to see Akaashi leaving.

He notices you looking, and says politely, “Well, I’ll be off then.” There must have been a confused expression on your face, because he shifts a little uncomfortably before explaining he’s off to see his girlfriend. Oh. You didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. He nods to you one last time, and then leaves after directing a stern look toward Bokuto.

“C’mon then! Let’s do this quickly!” Bokuto pumps his fist in the air excitedly. “May I ask why you’re in such a hurry, Bo-kun?”

“Ah, I wanna go play volleyball! Volleyballll!” He exclaims as he bounces down onto the sofa. “Oh, you enjoy volleyball?” You follow him, taking out your binder and notes from your bag. “Yeah!” He leans toward you eagerly, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. You shift away subtly, but you don’t think he would have noticed either way.

Bokuto bounces on the sofa impatiently as you begin the discussion. “Um, so… love…where do you think it can be observed in the play, and what form does it come in?” Bokuto stares at you blankly as he pauses, “Huh?” Facepalming, you sigh. It’s going to be a long afternoon.

Your meetings with Bokuto don’t go too bad surprisingly; once you bait him with the promise of playing volleyball with him (a trick you learned from Akaashi), he pays a little more attention, and takes down notes dutifully as you discuss (although analysing his writing is a task in and of itself, you’re glad he’s being productive). Hesitant acquaintanceship slowly leads to friendship as the months progress.

Akaashi can only watch silently as he sees you open yourself up a little and as he watched Bokuto wait in anticipation for your visit each day. He thinks the both of you are a little too oblivious; but then again, he doesn’t know you too well. Being kindred souls, both you and Akaashi liked to sit quietly in each other’s presence, but with Bokuto’s loud and excitable nature, he sees you open up a little. Akaashi can only hope that whatever is forming between you and Bokuto leads to something good.

You’re standing in front of your mirror one day, combing through your hair when a strand comes away in your hands. You’re about to throw it away mindlessly when you notice it’s not (h/c); no, it’s grey.The tell-tale sign one has met their soulmate is when they start aging, and that’s signified when their hair turns grey.

You sink down onto your bed slowly, processing the fact that one of the people you met this past few months was your soulmate. Well, you’ve only really interacted with two people, Kasamatsu…no, you’re sure it’s not him; you’re sure you would have felt something. Then…it’s probably Bokuto, you realize.

You’d decided you would try for your soulmate; try for love when you met him. But now that you know it’s Bokuto...you can’t do that to him. You can’t do that to Bokuto, who’s always so excited about everything; who’s always ready to help you; who always makes you feel like you’re better than who you really are. Bokuto deserves better. Better than you, who’s been with so many other while he’s been faithfully waiting. He deserves so much better, you think.

You have never regretted your life decisions more than you did at that moment. Regrets, you realize, are the absolute bane of your existence.

The same day, you have a meeting with Bokuto to wrap up some final ends of your project. The door to their apartment is open, and you let yourself in, the weight of your realization a few moments prior is heavy as you greet Akaashi.

He smiles at you softly in greeting; you and Akaashi had gotten closer as a result of Bokuto’s extrovertedness.

Bokuto bounds toward you excitedly, pointing toward his hair, which, now that you notice, looks more cleanly done than it was before, “(NAME), HEY, HEY, HEY!” He greets you as you laugh, “Hi Bo, what’s up?”

“Akaashi redyed my hair today, and guess what!”

“What?” you humour him, humming as you go through the motion of taking off your cardigan. “There was a grey hair in between my black ones!”

You freeze, unable to respond. How coincidental that on the same day you discover Bokuto is your soulmate; he finds out he has one too. You don’t notice Akaashi watching you observantly from his post right before the hallway you and Bokuto are in.

You’ve never been great at lying; you know this. You also know that if you run like you so want to, you will give yourself away. So you decide to try to keep a straight face, now painfully aware of Akaashi’s gaze boring a hole into the side of your head.

Bokuto is grinning proudly, both hands on his hips, eyebrows cocked, golden eyes sparkling. “Akaashi and I were making a list,” he chatters, not noticing as your straight face falls. “And (Name),” he turns a bit bashful now, pink visible on his cheeks as his eyes find yours, “We think you’re my soulmate!!” He’s grinning widely at you, albeit a bit more reserved than usual.

He’s clearly nervous. You play with your sleeves anxiously, deciding to let him down gently. You want Bokuto to lead a better life, and you’re sure he can find it with someone, anyone that isn’t you. You open your mouth to tell him no, but something won’t let you. Maybe it’s the way Akaashi’s eyes are drilling into yours from behind Bokuto, telling you not to do what he thinks you’re going to do; telling you not to let him go. Maybe it’s the way Bokuto’s face falls as you keep silent; the way his whole body seems to droop, the way the light that had been shimmering in his eyes dims.

And maybe it’s the crestfallen expression on his face; that’s how you know you can’t do this to Bokuto. You could never break his heart like that. You just hope that when he knows of your past; you just hope he won’t be hurt. You’ve lived with the weight of your life decisions for a while now; he is yet to find out. You regret not being there for your grandma; but you want to be there for him if he’ll let you.

“(Name)?” Bokuto’s quieter than usual voice snaps you out of your anxiety-ridden thoughts. “I-” You hesitate, but one look at his eyes, and you know you have to tell him, “I am your soulmate, Bokuto.”

He perks up almost immediately, throwing his fisted hands into the air triumphantly, “I knew it!”

“I-” You shuffle around anxiously, “But I need to, um, tell you something.”

Bokuto falters as he takes you in, finally realizing you have something important to say. “Sure.” he nods, glancing toward Akaashi, who slips into his bedroom, shutting the door quietly, but not before one warning look back at you. You and Akaashi are friends; but you know Bokuto will always come before you.

You turn your attention back to Bokuto, who’s looking at you confusedly. “So what’d ya want to tell me?” He asks, golden eyes softening as he looks at you, sleek silver eyebrows knitting together uncharacteristically gently.

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, but you swallow it down, remembering the way Bokuto had looked a few minutes ago. He needs to know, and then he can decide whether or not he wants you.

You proceed to tell him the whole story, and his reactions are displayed on his face, clear for all to see. When you get to the part about your life in Tokyo, his lips quirk downward a little, and you wince.

“Bo, you – you deserve so much better.” You finish softly, eyes looking down. It’s quiet for a little while, Bokuto’s silence is unnerving and you wish the earth could swallow you.

“I don’t think so.” Bokuto’s voice makes you look up slowly, (e/c) pools hesitantly meeting his own golden ones, which are burning fiercely as they look at you. His arms are crossed and his face is pulled into an intense thinking expression.

When he notices you look up, he leans toward you with resolve. “You may have done all that, but that was before we met, before I was even born. What matters is that you picked yourself up, and you worked hard to come here and stay here.” You nod hesitantly, a little surprised; Bokuto’s acting very maturely, but then again, you suppose he always has been, a little bit. He just never showed it much.

“Besides,” Bokuto continues, a smile settling on his features, “You had that one moment, right? The moment where people realize they love someone. I had it.” He says unabashedly, “That’s how I know I don’t care about your past.” He says proudly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“So you don’t mind that I-”

“A little.” He admits, but he flashes a determined smile at you as he says his next words, “But if you’ve felt that moment, then I know you’re not going anywhere.” He says, and you search his golden orbs for any signs that he’s lying; but there’s none.

He loves you, you realize. He doesn’t care. The moment he’s talking about; you’ve felt it. You feel it every time you’re with him. You love him. The last realization has you throwing yourself across the sofa and into his arms. Bokuto catches you easily, strong arms winding around your frame as he laughs. You can feel his laughter as the rumbles in his chest, and you are hit with an overwhelming wave of affection.

“I’ve felt that moment too.” You mumble into his chest. He laughs again, and you imagine those golden eyes crinkling at the corners, and the whites of his teeth showing beneath a wide smile. “I love you.” You say quietly, but he hears, and his arms tighten around you.

Regret, you think, is the bane of your existence, but it’s also what pushed you to tell Bokuto the truth, so maybe it’s a little helpful after all.

(You and Bokuto get an 89 on your Romeo and Juliet project. The final version turned out much better than what you’d had before – Bokuto had a lot to do with that. When you find out your grade, he peppers your face with small, happy kisses, his hair tickling you as you chuckle gently, and weave your hands into his hair, smiling at him.)

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urnooboo · 4 years

Photo

LIFELINES AND LEGACIES - A D&D inspired TS4 Legacy Challenge

By me, @urnooboo!

Even though I’m not active, I wanted to start another legacy challenge, but I didn’t want to do a normal one. Since my friends and I play D&D and love it, why not take inspiration from there? And so here is the culmination of that little brainstorm! It’s my first time making a challenge like this, so hopefully it won’t be that bad. :D It’s a legacy challenge based on the Dungeons and Dragons classes!

If you want to try this challenge out, please use the tags #L&L challenge or #ts4 L&L ! I’d really appreciate it if anyone tries this out just for fun!

Bit of a warning, this challenge gets a bit chaotic in the middle because...honestly, I dunno,,,,

Rules and requirements under the cut!!

Pack Requirements: All the EPs and GPs except for Star Wars (ew), but you can always skip some requirements if you don’t have the packs for them

You can choose to do this on normal lifespan, but playing on long is allowed too.

So, how do you want to do this?

GENERATION 1: Fighter

You don’t have much right now, but you’re determined to build yourself from the ground up and start a family. You have a strong will to fight when needed and you’re quite athletic. You don’t have to be completely alone at the start of this journey, however, and a long time best friend of yours can be part of your party.

RULES:

Must have Active trait

Fight/”Friendly Spar” with at least 3 different sims and 1 occult sim

Complete Successful Lineage aspiration

Starting funds must be less than 20,000 simoleons after buying a house

Get a job in either the Fitness career or the Military career

OPTIONAL: Can have another sim in the household when starting out, and must be friends with them. They can be your family, childhood friend,existing lover, or just some random roommate. (Also yes, you’re allowed to romance them. Unless if they’re your family, yikes)

GENERATION 2: Druid

Your family may not have had the best financial state starting out, but you don’t let things like money phase you. You’ve always loved nature and going out, and dreamed of wanting to do more for the environment as an adult. You like to take things a bit slowly, and love to lounge around.

RULES:

Must have Vegetarian, Lazy, and Loves Outdoors traits

Lot must be off-the-grid

Have a green eco footprint

Marry in adulthood instead of young adulthood

Meet and become friends with the hermit in Granite Falls

Max out the Gardening skill and grow your own food

Optional: You must only have one lover and you must woo them with bees

GENERATION 3: Artificer

You’re dissatisfied at how your family lounges around most of the time, and you’re quite the workaholic compared to them. Your career is your life, and you happen to be both ambitious and gifted. Though you love your child but you have absolutely no idea how to be a parent. So you might end up being a bit of a helicopter parent…

RULES:

Must have Ambitious and Genius traits

Graduate college on a scholarship

Get a job in the Scientist career

Have at least level 6 Robotics skill

Have only one child, born from a one night stand/fling

Never get married

Only do strict parenting interactions with your child

OPTIONAL: Complete the element collection

GENERATION 4: Wizard

You grew up in a house with high expectations, and always wanted to please your family. You worked hard in your studies and in the end- it paid off. But at the cost of you not having much of a social life. However, that really isn’t your priority. Instead, you chose to start learning the magic arts, enthralled by its mystic ways. You were always good at school, so why not start getting good at magic now? As long as you put your mind to it, it shouldn’t be that hard...right?

RULES:

Must have Perfectionist and Loner traits

Have less than 5 friends

Must finish Whiz Kid child aspiration

Become an “A” student in both grade school and high school

Must have “Responsible” trait when you reach Young Adulthood (via high responsibility value)

Graduate college with a distinguished degree

Become a spellcaster

OPTIONAL: Take the teaching or doctor career

GENERATION 5: Sorcerer

You were born with a magical bloodline, and you love to show it off. You want the whole world to see that you’re a cool prodigal spellcaster. You’re the complete opposite of your parent; loud, outgoing, quick to make friends. You’ve even developed a knack for acting in order to impress people, and you dream of becoming a famous star in order to show those who wronged you before that you’re the best thing on earth.

RULES:

Must have Self-Absorbed and Erratic trait

Must have weak bloodline trait from parent and become a spellcaster

Reach the Adept, Master, or Virtuoso rank

Become at least a B-Lister

Get to level 7 of the Actor career

Have some sort of rival

Must have “Good Manners” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (via high manners value)

Must have good reputation

Optional: Be the leader of a popular club and have the Insider trait

GENERATION 6: Bard

You’ve got it all. Rich and famous family, a magical bloodline, musical skill, lots of friends...but something inside you just feels...missing. Thanks to this, you started going around looking for lovers, carelessly tossing aside those who happened to not meet your indecisive standards. It would probably take you years before you calm down and settle with someone you truly care about, but all the heartbreak you’ve caused before that is quite impressive, to say the least.

RULES:

Must have Romantic, Music Lover and Non-Committal traits

This sim has to be the hottest generation. Go all out yo!!!!

Must have strong bloodline trait but cannot be a spellcaster

Complete the Serial Romantic Aspiration

Work in the Entertainer career as a musician

Have as many affairs as you want and have illegitimate kids BUT…

Your heir must be the result of an affair with an occult sim that isn’t a spellcaster. See rules for next generation below

OPTIONAL: Only get married in late adulthood or elder life stage. You can’t have kids with this person.

GENERATION 7: Warlock

You never really had a close relationship with your “famous” parent, and spent more time with your occult family, making you pretty close with each other. Your half siblings don’t like you because you inherited a part of your famous parent’s fortune, despite being...you know...a paranormal freak? To get around this, you developed quite a skillful tongue, and you know your way around words. Now you’re looking for someone to get some more money from...

RULES:

Must have bloodline trait AND be part of an occult race that isn't a spellcaster. Like, you could be a mermaid, vampire, or alien with the bloodline trait, or even a half alien or half vampire.

Have a high relationship with your occult parent

Reach level 10 charisma skill and get yourself a sugar daddy/mommy. :D

Now, your path for this generation will differ depending on whether your parent is an alien, vampire, or mermaid, and is based on some of the D&D warlock patrons. However, this divergence is completely optional. and you can just focus on finding a sugar daddy/mommy only

ALIEN PARENT (Great Old One patron) You can be either a full alien or half alien for this one.

Get a job in the Astronaut career and visit Sixam

Max out your Logic skill

If you’re a full alien, memory wipe at least one person who you had a high relationship with if they find out you’re an alien.

Must have Insensitive trait when you reach Young Adulthood (comes from having low empathy)

VAMPIRE PARENT (Undying patron) You can be either a full vampire or half-vampire for this one.

Max out your vampire lore skill

Own a cowplant for as long as possible

If full vampire, turn at least one person into a vampire

Become friends with the Grim Reaper, by any means necessary :)

MERMAID PARENT (Kraken/Lurker in the Deep patron) (UA) You can only be a full mermaid for this one.

Max out your fishing skill

Try to have one child with Sulani Mana trait

Collect 5 rare fishes

Die from polar bear plunge (jumping into a pool outside when it’s freezing cold)

GENERATION 8: Cleric

The generation before was…chaotic, to say the least. You may have occult blood in you but you’re gonna try to set things straight for future generations. How are you gonna do that? BY GETTING RICH, OF COURSE! SPREAD THE WORD OF CAPITALISM AROUND BY STARTING YOUR OWN RETAIL STORE! Or a restaurant, that works too. The most prominent thing that you’ve inherited from your parents is your love of money, and you’re constantly coming up with schemes to get more. Gods may not exist in The Sims, but you might as well worship something that’s powerful. And money is power.

RULES:

Must have Materialistic trait

Have a job in the Business career, Politics career, or Civil Designer career (Civic Planner) and bop bop bop, bop to the top

Own at least one retail store/restaurant with a rating of at least three stars

Complete the Fabulously Wealthy Aspiration

Eventually move to a penthouse OR one of the big apartments in the business district in San Myshuno

Have only one child

Fall in love with someone from work, then divorce them after having a fight

GENERATION 9: Paladin

Despite the unique circumstances that happened before your birth, you grew up...pretty normal. There’s not much to say about you since your magical bloodline and occult genes are probably dwindling from here, and sooner or later your family legacy will go back to being humans. You’ve always wanted to protect this world and be the one to bring justice to it, so you take up a job in the police force. You and your lover unfortunately had a kid, and even though your lover may have wanted it deep down you actually hate kids. You’ve heard about strange events going on in a town called Strangerville, and you’ve been itching to investigate…

RULES:

Must be close with Generation 8 sim

Must have Hates Children trait

Have a job in the Police career

Complete the Strangerville Aspiration and become the Hero of Strangerville

Have the “Mediator” trait when reaching Young Adulthood (from high conflict resolution)

Stay in the penthouse/apartment your parent got

OPTIONAL: Complete the “Rambunctious Scamp” child aspiration and get “Physically Gifted” trait

GENERATION 10: Rogue

Ironically, despite your upbringing, you ended up becoming a deviant that has constant run-ins with the law. Your relationship with your family isn’t great, but you’re determined to make a name for yourself as a slippery troublemaker. Your true dream however, is to find your one true lover, since you’re a secret hopeless romantic. Your flirting skills are laughable though, and you tense up whenever you have to do something romantic. How are you gonna find love like this?

RULES:

Have bad relationship with Generation 9 sim

Must have Kleptomaniac, Gloomy, and Unflirty traits

Reach the top of the criminal career

Complete both the Soulmate aspiration

Whenever you visit another sim’s lot, steal something from their house

Have up to two exes before finally settling on the one you wanna marry

Get friendzoned at least once

Move out of your parents’ penthouse/apartment and into a small 20x15 lot

OPTIONAL: Have negative reputation

OPTIONAL: Be BFFs with your other parent

You can end the challenge here, but there are still some more D&D classes left to do, so here they are, the optional generations!

GENERATION 11: Barbarian

You take after your parent a lot, and you’re skilled in making people absolutely hate you. Your emotions are just as stable as Philippine wifi, and you have this terrible habit of getting into fights a lot. But just because people don’t like you doesn’t mean you can’t go out and have fun. In fact, you’re quite infamous for going out to parties and starting bar fights.

RULES:

Must have Hot-headed and Mean traits

Must have “Uncontrolled Emotions” trait when aging up into Young Adulthood (from low emotional control)

Fight as many people as possible, make lots of enemies

Throw a lot of parties and go to lots of bar nights and events

Complete Public Enemy aspiration

OPTIONAL: Die from cardiac arrest

GENERATION 12: Monk

For someone with a public nuisance for a parent, you’re pretty chill. You love to make stuff, and your way of life is quite tranquil, to say the least. You’re handy and artistic, and love to do things yourself, even if it does give off the impression that you’re super cheap. You’ve always got a gift for someone during christmas, and your inventory is full of stuff that you’ve made, or components to make stuff with. The world is cool with you, and you’re cool with the world. You’re not the type of person who could hold down a regular job though...

RULES:

Max out the Wellness skill

Must have Maker trait

Be at least level 4 in the all following skills: Handiness, Fabrication, Painting, Writing, Flower Arranging, and any instrument skill. (Also Knitting, if you have it)

Always change jobs when you reach level 4 in them, and your only truly stable source of income is from selling the stuff you’ve made

Live on an off-the-grid lot, preferably somewhere near the water or near a forest

Have twins for kids and only those twins (you can cheat to get this ahhaha)

Elope only, cause weddings aint your style

Explore Selvadorada with your family at least once

GENERATION 13: Ranger

After you and your family went on a vacation to Selvadorada, you decided that you’d travel the world, no matter what! Your twin sibling was originally gonna help you complete this dream, but unfortunately they died due to mysterious circumstances. While you mourned away your sorrows, you came across a stray animal that reminded you of your late sibling and decided to take it in. Once you got yourself together out of your slump, you decided to pack your bags and start travelling around the world for realsies.

RULES:

Be BFFs with your twin

Twin sibling must die during their teenage/early young adult years

Adopt at least one pet after that (yeah, you can have more)

Complete Friend of the Animals aspiration

Visit all the vacation worlds at least once in your lifetime

Discover all the secret lots except Sixam

Visit at least one lot in each normal world with your pet

Move household at least once

Don’t have children

And that’s it! I hope you guys enjoy this challenge!! I’ll try to play this too, though I might be even more inactive since school is finally starting hnnng you guys are free to tweak some requirements to better suit your gameplay so just have fun and enjoy!!!

#ts4 L&L #L&L challenge #ts4 legacy challenge #sims 4 legacy challenge #the sims 4 legacy challenge #legacy challenge #ts4 challenge #sims 4 challenge #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #s4 legacy #s4 legacy challenge #legacy gameplay #ts4 challenge prompt #ts4 prompt

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serendipityunho · 4 years

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× genre: smut, everyone is filthy rich × pairing: San x Reader (fem.) × word count: 4.7k × warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, smoking, fingering, oral, clit play, dirty talk, explicit sex, marijuana use

× synopsis:The only excitement at this boring extravagant party was the taste of a random kid’s lips on yours mixed with the devil’s lettuce, who happens to be the son of the CEO your parents partnered with. It couldn’t get any better than that.

☁️: i don’t smoke weed, but that shit is lowkey hot, especially when you end up shot-gunning with a slicked-back-blonde-hair san.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You never knew what the point of holding such extravagant parties was. Did they really donate proceeds to charity, or was that another cold lie your parents fed the guests apart from the disgusting over-priced cheese and caviar?

It was nights like these where you wanted nothing but to go home and empty the fridge or possibly passed out face flat onto a lawn at some random frat party you found yourself in. Anything would be better than standing in feet-aching heels at a party with no one to talk to.

If you earnt a dollar for every time you welcomed guests and greeted them with your million dollar realistic fake smile, you’d become a billionaire, rich enough to buy your parent’s company and probably two others. Your cheeks were aching just as much as your feet with the number of times you had to smile through the pain of talking to business people about their stupid taxes and so on.

“You might want to slow down on the tarts, dear, there are guests you know” It wasn’t like anybody bothered to get their hands crumby with the tarts, so why not do it for them?

“That’s your fault for inviting so many people, mother” You didn’t even need to take a glance at her to know she rolled her eyes into another dimension at your snarky comment.

“Behave” To be completely honest, it was quite satisfying seeing your mother fed up with you. It could possibly teach her a thing or two. It was honestly the least you could do after living a life many wished for. If only they knew the consequences of actually living it.

It felt like the walls were closing in with every passing second you stayed inside, surrounded by countless bodies that wanted nothing to talk about money and other materialistic desires. You felt disgusted with every fibre of your body as you take a swift glance at your parents, putting on a show with the same plastic smiles as their snake tongues lure the interests of tycoons.

The longer you stayed here, the more you wanted to throw up from basking in overly expensive perfume and cologne. Your cheeks were on the verge of seizing from the smiles, it was exhausting.

It felt even more suffocating, literally, as you squeeze passed guests and avoiding the urge to knock over the sparkling champagne glass in their hands. The balcony seemed to be the only place of refuge. Sliding the glass door, you stepped outside into the midst of breezy night with slight shivers travelling up your body.

You felt like you can breathe again after escaping out into the open. The chatters and laughs muffled as you slide the glass door closed again, turning your back on the faces to bask in the chilly air with nothing but a loose satin dress short enough to hide the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh.

The balcony was long, it wrapped around one entire side and halfway around the other. It got colder as you dipped around the corner, perfect and away from prying eyes. You hiked up your dress slightly, taking the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh before holding it between your lips.

If your parents ever found out you were one of those tobacco users, they’d blame you for tarnishing their reputation with ridiculously absurd malicious headlines, ‘Heiress of Multimillion-Dollar Company or a Tobacco Addict?’ ‘The Irony of a Smoker Running A Biomedical Company’. It was as if it were the apocalypse if they’d ever catch you, not that you would let them.

“Those things kill you fast, you know?” You were in the middle of a drag of your cigarette before a voice jolted you up from your spot, making you spin around to a man leaning against the wall.

“I’m counting on it” You were only joking of course.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here smoking?” The man kicked himself off the wall before stepping into the more lit area of the balcony.

“You can’t call me pretty if you don’t know me” Your lips kissed the cigarette again, blowing smoke between your lips as you stared out into the city from the rails of your penthouse balcony.

“What if I do know you?” His features were sharp under the dim lighting, cheekbones stood out very prominently as his feline eyes left your jaw dropped. He was truly astonishing.

“I don’t seem to know who you are” You turned to face him, getting a better observation at his god-like features as you held the cigarette over the railing.

“I’m Choi San” Now that was a name that had rung a few rusty bells in your head.

“Don’t tell me you’re the Choi San of-”

“Choi Biomedical Technologies? Yes, I’m that Choi San”

Almost half of all hospitals had the equipment and resources produced by San’s father in use day and night. Fortunately enough, the company had decided to pair with your parent’s medical research and company.

“Funny enough, I don’t see your face around often”

“It’s pointless to just show my face at a party where I don’t have fun” San shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, shuffling a bit in his spot before finally turning his face towards you.

Now you could clearly see everything, and my, he was indeed a masterpiece. You were amazed at how he managed to slick back his hair without the look of heavy hair products glistening under the light.

“So what made you show up to this one?” If there was any way possible that excused you from attending these parties, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

“To see what the hype was all about, my father’s tried setting me up with many girls when I don’t go. So I figured if I showed up just once, he’d finally leave me alone”

“And did he?”

“Why do you think I’m out here?” San smirked as he ran his hand through his hair, staring down at your cigarette.

“Sounds pitiful” You bring your hand up, holding the slow killer against your lips before puffing one out into the air.

“May I?” San nodded towards the cigarette, eyes drooping at the sight of it between your lips.

“You don’t spike me as a smoker” You handed the stick over to him, watching him take a drag before smoke escapes pass his lips.

“You’d be surprised about other things” San grimaced at the cigarette before handing it back to you and looking out into the city.

“Like what?” Now you were genuinely curious.

A smirk crawled up San’s face as he faced you again, eyeing you with curious eyes before licking his teeth. You could tell he was trying to avoid your question, but it just worked your curiosity even more.

“What are you doing out here?” You scoffed at San’s diversion, turning around to rest your forearms against the rails.

“For a smoke obviously, and my feet hurt from walking around” You shook off the ash from the cigarette, hesitantly bringing the nearly finished stick up to your lips once again.

“You always smoke at parties?”

“Only when I have to”

“What made you tonight?”

“Look at that and tell me you don’t want to get out of there” San didn’t have to look to know what you were referring to. In fact, he felt exactly the same.

“You know, I have something better than this,” San plucked the cigarette out from your lips and threw it off the balcony before reaching in his jacket, pulling out a small clear bag of what seemed to look like chopped up parsley “, that would relax you”.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes widen as you finally realise what was in front of you. This guy really just stored weed in his jacket like it was nothing.

“What? Have you never tried?” You shook your head, eyeing the green flakes sitting in its little ziplock bag.

“I never knew where to get it-”

“Wow, look at that!” You could’ve sworn your head was about to rip right off your neck from how fast you swerved behind.

Silhouettes of guests fill the floor as a few flooded out into the balcony, making your heart race as you assured San to put the bag back in his jacket. Thankfully, the two of you were around the corner which let you dodge a bullet from noisy guests.

“Shit” As much as you wanted to smoke whatever San offered, it was too risky out here even behind the unlit corner of your balcony.

“I know a place where we can-”

“No, I can’t leave the building, they won’t let me” Your parents have had enough of you to strict you from leaving the party, mainly to keep a close eye on you and prevent anything that would blacken their name.

“Does your bathroom have a big window?” San fixed his jacket before stepping aside, walking around the corner with you following behind.

“Yeah, but it’ll look suspicious if we go upstairs together” You immediately spot your parents the moment you stepped back inside, no surprise they were buttering up more guests.

“The more you think about it, the more it’ll look suspicious” Technically, it wasn’t that hard staying out of your parent’s vision as they chattered away with more people and sipping on their champagne.

San stayed behind you as you quickly trod up the stairs to the second level, quietness flushing over you as the party stayed below. San appeared not long after, inspecting the new surrounding as you opened the door to your bathroom.

The marble glistened the moment you flicked on the lights, most of which doesn’t seem to phase San one bit. The door locked behind you as you unlatched the window, letting the cold air in as well as making it an escape for your smoke.

“What kind of shower is that?” San snickered. You honestly have no clue either.

“I don’t know, we don’t use this bathroom” You always questioned why your mother had such a desire for homes with more than enough rooms, it was pointless really.

“So your family’s like that too huh?” San pulled out the little bag again, placing it on to the marble counter before reaching for something else.

“Like what?” You stared at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair as you patted smudged mascara underneath your eyes.

“Money this, money that?” Your eyes turned down to San, packing the green flakes into a thin piece of paper.

“It’s sickening” You were just glad you managed to escape the trap of falling into the mindset of materialistic wealth and whatnot.

“It’s surprising to finally find someone like me”

“Like you? So you’re telling me all those campaigns and charities are bullshit too?” San’s father always loved taking every chance he got to host events beneficial to his company.

“Blatant lie, every single one of them” San sounded embarrassed, ashamed of his family’s immoral choices.

You almost feel sorry for him, but yet again, your family was exactly like that too. You couldn’t judge him one bit, not that you would anyways. Nowadays, you were always met with rich privileged dickheads boasting about which Rolex they bought with their ‘daddy’s’ black card.

“Lick” San brought the rolled stick up to your lips as you sat on the counter, waiting for you to the seal it up for him.

His eyes locked onto yours as he stood in front of you. Without taking yours off his, you stick your tongue out, swiping across the thin paper before letting San close off the stick.

“Where’d you buy it?” If you didn’t have eyes watching you 24/7, you’d be at some random back alley buying as much devil lettuce as you want and possibly smoking it at some random back alley.

San, without a doubt, would have security with him all the time. The fact that he managed to obtain weed was questioning.

“A friend of mine sells it from his gym” San tapped your lip with the stick before flicking the lid off of his Zippo lighter, letting the flame spark as it flickered close to the end of the stick.

“Smart” The paper burnt black as it shrivelled from the flame. San set the lighter down onto the counter, packing away the contents of your little construction before taking off his suit jacket. You could’ve sworn his shirt was about to unbutton, not that you were complaining.

“If you ever need, look for Jongho down at the gym besides the 7/11 parking lot, call for Wooyoung if he isn’t there”

“There’s a lot of 7/11′s” You took a hit of the stick, head instantly feeling lighter as your eyes drooped a bit.

“There’s only one 7/11 with a parking lot downtown with a gym next to it”

Your feet dangled off the ground, heels clanking against the counter as you let your sore feet take a break from walking on tiptoes all night. San hung his jacket on the hook by the door, rolling up his sleeves up to his forearms as he nodded towards the stick. Boy, those arms were nice.

The hit did a lot more than expected, it was worth the wait, and the risk. You take the stick from your lips, pressing it against San’s as you take the strap on your thigh off with the cigarette case on it.

“You should quit while you can” San muffled, blowing the smoke towards the window as he leaned against the counter with his hands either side of you, still keeping a distance between his body and yours. You honestly wish he was closer though.

“I already know it’s going to be hard” You almost instantly regretted buying your first pack of cigarettes, if you knew what withdrawals were at the time, you would’ve never had pressed that toxic stick against your lips.

“It’s better than ending up black lungs” San raised his brows, letting you take the stick from his lips for another hit.

“I’m gonna need more of these if I start quitting”

“You can keep the ones I brought tonight” You gulped at the closing distance between you and San, the dangling chain around his neck hitting against his chest every time he moved wasn’t making it any easier to stay reserved.

“I’ll pay you back”

“Don’t bother. Consider it a gift”

“A gift for what?”

“Being decent I guess” You were so tempted to blow this smoke into his face.

“You’re decent too I guess” More than decent actually, but you were too scared to say that. After all, you only met him ten minutes ago.

Your head felt lighter than the clouds, it was everything better than your average smoke. Now you were definitely going to attempt quitting.

“How is it?” San smiled softly, droopy-eyed as he slumped forward towards you with arms caging you in.

“This shit is amazing” You almost choke while pulling the stick from your lips, making San chuckle in such a deep but mesmerising voice, faintly showing off his dimple you didn’t know he had.

“This is probably the most fun I’ve had at these parties” San chuckled, tilting his head to the side as you press the stick back onto his soft lips once again.

“I have you to thank for that” Your heart was on the verge of jumping out of your chest as you stared at San’s devilish smirk. There was that hint of cockiness in him that had attracted you to grown to like him.

“I guess you could call it fate” San flickered back and forth between your eyes, blowing smoke out from the side of his mouth before giving the stick back to you.

“You know what would be more fun?” You couldn’t really stop yourself from saying anything further. But, you really wanted to just pop that button on his shirt that’s been on the brink of slipping out of its hold.

“Don’t say you have more drugs up your dress”

“Kiss me” You said nice and slowly enough for San to comprehend, you couldn’t help but bite down on your lip at your sudden boost of confidence, giggling at San’s bewildered face.

“You know, that would be fun” San smirked, grabbing a quick hit before locking his lips onto yours, smoke plummeting into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair with his body pushing between your legs.

“Oh yeah, this is so much better” Your arms slung around his neck as you inched yourself closer to the edge of the counter, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his pants as your legs cage him against you with his arms doing the same to you.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you outside” San moaned against your lips as he subconsciously pushed his hips forward, grinding against your sopping wet cunt.

“Then why didn’t you?” Your forehead rests against San’s with a hand tangled his hair as the other slides down his chest, hooking your finger onto his chain.

“I thought you were one of those bimbos who say ‘daddy’ too much” It was quite insulting to know you’d given off those vibes, but who could blame you for wanting to look your best?

“I would’ve figured those were your type of girls” Your lips brush over San’s once again before softly biting it.

“Guess we’re both wrong” San’s hands cupped the bottom of your thighs, smoothing over your skin as he plants a wet kiss on your lips before trailing them down your jaw, making you throw your head back as his lips graze over your sensitive skin, plastering rough kisses all over as you squirmed in pleasure against his hold.

You pushed your hips further, almost falling off the counter if it wasn’t for San’s body pushing against you and his hard crotch grinding against your soaked pussy. San’s hand slid up and down your leg before hiking under your dress, scrunching the satin material up to your waist as you squeezed his forearm.

You could feel your arousal soaking every inch of your panties as San’s hand runs across the skin of your waist, thumb rubbing the bottom of your bralette as you pushed his head closer to yours for another sopping kiss. A low groan from the back of his throat only made your head lighter in lust as you slowly pop the buttons off his shirt.

Looking back, you never thought you’d end up in the bathroom making out high with a semi-stranger. But, it was better than floating in a pool of rich narcissistic fucks.

San’s chest frees as you rip open his shirt, letting him drop it to the ground as your fingers trace over the lining of his defined abs. Your nipples harden as San’s fingers slip under your bralette, cupping your breast in one hand as your nipple rolls between his fingers.

A wet stain was probably evident against San’s crotch area from your subconscious grinding. It was nothing a blow dryer couldn’t fix.

You could feel his cock throbbing under his pants against your pussy. A hand glides down from his abs and down to the belt of his pants, fumbling with it before scrunching his pants down to his thighs along with his boxers, freeing his pulsating cock against your thigh.

San’s tongue swiped across your bottom lip as he drove his hand down your thigh, inching his thumb towards your clothed clit and rubbing it slowly as your wetness soaked through your panties. Your fingers remain tangled in his hair as the other hand grasped his cock firmly, thumb swiping over his slit before pumping slowly.

“Fuck” San groaned against your lips, cock twitching in your hold as you smear his precum over his reddened tip.

You clenched around nothing as San dragged your panties down to the ground, letting your bare ass sit on the cold marble counter as his thumb circled at your clit. Your legs ache from staying in the air with nowhere to rest upon other than San’s waist.

“Oh my god” A breathy moan escapes from your lips as San presses his fingers against your folds, coating them in your juices as he slides them up and down before pushing them into your hole.

“I want you so bad- fuck” San pumped two fingers in and out of you with your juices glistening on his fingers.

“Nothing’s stopping you” You cupped his face, shooting an assuring look before planting a sloppy wet kiss on his lips before he kissed down your neck again, moving much faster down to your collarbone and just the top of your breasts before lowering his body.

San’s fingers were still buried deep in you, pumping steadily as his face reached down to your thighs, smothering the inside with his soft kisses before moving over to your clit. It throbbed intensely as San let his tongue press flat against it before circling it around.

You gripped San’s hair tightly, legs quivering on San’s shoulders as he lapped at your pussy, dragging his fingers in and out of your tight hole. Thankfully, the chatter down below was loud enough for your sinful doings to be covered up.

“Right there- oh fuck” San’s tongue flicked rapidly against your clit before sliding it up and down your slit with his thumb now circling around your clit and hands flat against your stomach, holding your dress up.

“Mhm” It was a soft moan against your core that got you going crazy. You needed more than just his tongue, you needed him.

You cupped the side of San’s head with both hands before pulling him back up to your lips, letting the tip of his cock twitch at your entrance, slipping with your juices and his precum. San hooked an arm around your back, hugging your close as he kissed you hungrily, tongue lapping everywhere with yours.

“Look in that drawer” San pulled back, tilting his head to see which one you were talking about before gripping the knob and pulling it out.

“I thought you said no one uses this bathroom” A pack of condoms appeared from below as San rips the box open, pulling one out and ripping it with his teeth before spitting the foil to the side.

“That’s exactly why I stored them there” You grabbed latex, rolling it down his cock as he threw his head back with a groan.

“Mhmmfuck” Your mouth hanged wide at the stretch of San’s dick sliding into you, taking a few breaths before letting him move.

“Fucking christ, so tight” San groaned against your neck before pecking it, slowly thrusting his hips into you as your legs lazily wrap around his waist.

You weren’t sure if you were able to keep your moans to a minimum when San was breathing down your neck like this and hips rolling into you smoothly. God hope the commotion below was loud enough to save you.

San rolled his hips, burying his cock deep in you as he moved slowly. Your head pounded like crazy his hands roamed every inch of your body, squeezing everywhere he could, literally, get his hands on.

The pleasure immediately flooded your head as San quickened his pace, pumping waves of pleasure throughout your body with each thrust. Your forehead rests against his as your lips hover over San’s, brushing ever so lightly as they part.

“Ohmygod yesyes” The sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls as San grunted loudly, tensing his abs with each hard thrust.

Your moans were almost high-pitched as San knocked the air out of your lungs, gripping on to your thighs for dear life as your hands travelled up and down from his chest to his toned abs.

“You like that? Hm?” A smirk crawled its way onto his face as he gazed at you with hooded eyes, still fucking the daylights out of you as your breasts bounced in their place.

“Yes, oh my god- fuck yesnnghaa” You absolutely love the way San’s hips rolled against yours, it was like riding a rollercoaster to heaven and you weren’t even riding anything.

“You like the way I fuck this perfect little cunt of yours?” San grunted through a clenched jaw, slamming his hips against yours, making you gasp wildly for air.

“Fuckfuckyes- yes!” Your hand slapped behind San’s neck as he rutted into you like no tomorrow, sending your head to a cloud of nothingness except lust and pleasure.

“Mhmffuck you’re so perfect” San’s lips attacked yours once again, you could care less about the slobbering mess, it was actually kind of hot.

San held hugged you close as your legs gave him no chance of withdrawal as his dick continuously hits the spot of limitless pleasure, sending your breath straight out the window. A whine falls from your parted lips as your face scrunches in pleasure with brows furrowed deeply as your foreheads touch.

“S-So close- mmphh” Your legs quivered with every passing second, skin becoming sensitive with every touch as San cherished your body against his.

San quicked his thrusts, literally knocking you back further as he plunges his hips harder against yours. A bundle of pleasure in the pit of your stomach starts to go wild, seizing with every thrust made to reach the spot inside you that you could never reach.

Your walls clench tightly around his cock like you were holding on for dear life, slamming your lips against San’s to muffle your sickly moans as he rammed into you. It was like floating in a utopia filled with nothing but euphoric bliss as your vision went blurry with San’s grunting against your ear.

“Oh fuck! Yes ohmygodddnngghh yesyes-” You gasped sharply, legs starting to quiver as your abdomen tensed from the sudden burst of pleasure ricocheting all around your body to flooding your brain. You could’ve sworn you went cross-eyed for a bit.

“A little bit moremmph fuckk” It was only a matter of seconds before San rutted hard into you one last time before spewing his release into the latex, moaning wildly against your lips as he hugged you closer than before.

Your body subconsciously spazzed subtly as San slowly slid himself out from your hole, letting his cock twitch against your thigh as his forehead rests against yours. It was a comfortable silence that washed over the two of you, there was nothing but the sound of your desperate pants of deprived breath.

It felt like everything had frozen at that moment when San’s eyes met yours, it was like you had just seen a thousand stars pooling in his eyes when he pecked your lip.

You pulled back to get a better look, still accumulating your clear vision as San rolled off the latex without looking down, discarding it in the trash can beside you. A small bead of sweat lined the side of his face, making you pat it away with a tissue you pulled from the box behind you.

“Your makeup’s ruined” San pulled up his boxers along with his pants, letting it hang at his hips as he leaned forward with his hands rested against the edge of the counter.

“Not like I’m going anywhere afterwards” You gently dabbed San’s sweat away before throwing the tissue into the trash, leaning back on your arms with San still inches away from your face.

“I can try to sneak you out” San whispered, gazing deeply into your eyes as you did the same.

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“To have proper fun” San pushed himself off the counter, reaching down for your panties that had been plastered onto the floor just ages ago before carefully sliding them back up your leg and holding your ass in the process, caressing it gently.

“We just had our fun” You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his naked one as you hopped off the counter.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other quite often”

“I’m actually counting on it” You traced your finger along the outline of his pecks before landing a soft kiss on his lips one last time.

“Music to my ears”

“Hm?”

“Party’s over, sweetheart”

#ateez smut #kpop smut #san smut #choi san #180knet #kpop #fanfiction #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #kpop fanfics #kpop imagines #smut:san #ateez #smut #san x reader #choi jongho #jung wooyoung

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winterecho-archive · 3 years

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Depato ~ 600 Followers Gift 💗💗💗

Depato is San Myshuno's leading premium retailer. This iconic department store features a range of highly tasteful wardrobe edits, jewellery and fragrances, as well as books, electronics, homewares, stationary, kidswear and toys. Enjoy a coffee in the luxury food hall cafe next to the enclosed childrens' play area, or visit the third floor to catch the latest films in the opulent dual screen cinema. The fourth floor gym and day spa boasts panoramic views of the city.

Floor 1: Perfume, cosmetics, jewellery, shoes, clothing, bathroom accessories and homewares (plus fitting rooms and toilets)

Floor 2: Books, electronics, stationery, art supplies, kitchenware, kidswear & toys, food hall, coffee shop and kids’ play area

Floor 3: Dual screen cinema, arcade and bar (toilets are also on this level)

Floor 4: Gym (plus toilets/showers), terrace, day spa

More pictures of this build can be found here, here and here!

more info plus download link under the cut! 💗

WARNINGS:

I didn’t limit myself at all with this build. There’s a TON of custom content, plus I’ve used almost every pack.

This lot is HUGE and may cause your computer to lag (occasionally even my beast of a PC lagged while building it). The file size with CC included is 550MB 😬

I experienced a bug while building that caused random objects to disappear sometimes. Apparently this is a known bug, but I couldn’t find much info on it.

Most objects can be set for sale, but not all of them (I think it’s just objects worth §0? Like debug objects and some cc)

Signs and objects use both Simlish and English

Please turn on bb.moveobjects before placing this lot! I take no responsibility for what might happen if you don’t xD

There’s a skyscraper shell on the roof, which can be removed if you like as it doesn’t appear correctly on the map (though I haven’t tested the build on other lots). I built this on the Torendi Tower Penthouse lot in San Myshuno.

All CC is credited and organised by creator name into folders. Thanks SO much to all CC creators who make ridiculous builds like this possible! 😆💗💗

Download Depato here! (Google Drive, no ads)

You can find my previous followers’ gifts here!

#ts4 #ts4 build #sims 4 #sims 4 build #followers gift #thanks to all cc creators!

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gogomadu · 3 years

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Vincente McCain for @livingdeadgal128 ‘s Black Widow Challenge

Name: Vincente McCain

Age: 25 years old

Aspiration: Mansion Baron

Traits: Ambitious, Music Lover, Kleptomaniac

Bank Account? Loaded.

Bio: “Ay yo what’s good. It’s Vinny, you already know how it is. I spit tracks, lay beats, make bread. Simple process, sly guy. Money walks, the street talks, I heard there’s a honey walkin’ the streets looking for a man with a bag. She looks spicy, might have to try her. Call me up, Vinny’s always in the studio lookin’ for the next best thing.”

Born and raised in San My, Vincente (usually called Vinny) is every sugar baby’s dream. He’ll drop money like it’s nothing, he just wants some eye candy to give him a little attention. After ditching his parents (they were a drag), he made some fast money and invested it in music. He loves mixing music, and dropping the next best thing. Everyone knows that all new music is just old music rearranged, so he takes struggling artists’ wack melodies and turns it into the hottest tracks! Who ever said you needed permission? Call it the klepto in him, but finders, keepers. Losers? They’re simply weaker. He knows exactly what to do to make their rough diamonds shine, so why be blind? A little swipe here, a free meal there, and bam! Now we’re talking~ He knows that “his” music will be blasting in every building in no time, especially when he’s got the money, name, and looks to back it up! It’s getting boring being at the top of San My. The penthouse is nice and all, but Vinny’s moving to a bit of a modern mansion. And when he gets there, all he’ll need is a baddie to spend the extra bread on. Angie? That’s cute. Let’s get it, let’s go.

Private DL

Poses by @roselipaofficial

#ts4 #simblr #my sims #ts4 storytelling #the sims 4 #ignore me trying to incorporate slang #even i'm cringing #vincente McCain

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 73 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Courtney committed a fireable offense when she lost Miss Fame’s sketches.

This Chapter: Bianca rides in on a white horse, and Violet says yes to cake.

***

BIANCA: I need Courtney’s address

ADORE: Why

BIANCA: Because she seems upset and she’s not answering and I’m worried

ADORE: What did you do?

BIANCA: NOTHING

BIANCA: I don’t think

BIANCA: Something probably happened at work

BIANCA: ADORE. SEND THE ADDRESS FOR FUCK’S SAKE

BIANCA: I WILL CUT YOU OFF BITCH

BIANCA: Adore, please.

ADORE: Fine! But if she’s mad, that’s on you

BIANCA: ACCEPTED

ADORE: Just to warn you, it’s a real shithole

BIANCA: Alright, alright, just please send the address

Even though Bianca felt like a little bit of a stalker just showing up at her place like this, she didn’t know what else she was supposed to do. Courtney had cancelled with those few cryptic messages and then gone radio silent. Bianca knew her well enough by now to be certain that something had gone wrong, since just hours earlier, she was sending sweet messages about how much she couldn’t wait for them to be together.

She tried calling her a few more times from the car, but there was no answer. Finally, standing in front of the crumbling brownstone, she had to come clean.

BIANCA: Look, I’m sorry for taking drastic measures, but I was really worried…

BIANCA: I’m outside your building

Seconds later, her phone rang. She answered, heart filling with relief. “Hi baby-”

“What are you doing here?”

Her voice sounded broken and raw, and it was immediately clear that she’d been crying. Bianca could feel her heart in her throat, head suddenly racing with all the possibilities of things she may actually have done wrong. Had she really fucked this up so quickly?

“I was worried about you, so I thought…” Bianca bit her lip, afraid to even ask if she was the one who had upset Courtney like this. “Are you gonna let me inside?”

There was a pause, a few beats, the sound of sniffling.

“I just...I kind of don’t want you to...see it.” She sounded choked up again, voice small and soft.

“Angel…” Bianca couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief. It didn’t sound like she was angry, at least not with Bianca--just ashamed of where she lived, which Bianca could understand. “Do you think I’ve always lived in a penthouse?”

“No,” Courtney admitted after a pause.

“No,” Bianca repeated. “Not by a longshot. Please let me in, I need to see you. I just want to talk.”

A few minutes later, Courtney appeared, opening the door from the basement level. Bianca raced down the narrow steps and swept her into a hug, trying not to fret too much about the way she hung limply in her arms.

She followed her inside, and while she’d been prepared for something small and substandard, based on everything she’d heard so far, this was far worse than her fears. A tiny basement unit, dank and dark with exposed pipes and what looked like the world’s oldest sofa bed. It was also clearly an illegal sublet with no kitchen--only a metal, industrial sink with an electric kettle and micro-fridge below.

Besides the bed, there was little furniture. Her closet appeared to be two wardrobe boxes, and a few other boxes were stacked next to the bed to create a makeshift side table. Bianca took it all in, wondering exactly how she ended up in such a dismal place.

But now was not the time to ask about that, not when Courtney looked so utterly miserable. Even in the dim lighting, Bianca could see that her eyes were red and swollen. She followed her to the sofa bed, sitting down gingerly beside her (and holy shit was that thing uncomfortable) and taking one of her hands into her lap.

“Tell me why you’re so upset, angel, please.”

Courtney took a shaky breath, fresh tears filling her eyes. “I did something...really terrible today.”

“Did you kill someone? Do you need me to get a shovel?” Bianca asked, and she was rewarded with a hint of a smile as Courtney shook her head.

“No, but…” Every trace of smile disappeared from her face as she said, “I bet Miss Fame is gonna think this is worse.”

“What happened?”

“I accidentally left an envelope with a bunch of her sketches in a cab.” A tear rolled down her reddened cheek.

Bianca’s eyes went wide, understanding why Courtney was so distraught. Fame rarely sketched anymore, but when she did, she was as attached to the original work as if it was a piece of her own body. She immediately went into problem-solving mode, trying to think of things to mitigate the damage.

“Have you tried calling the cab company-”

“I don’t know which cab company it was, I didn’t get a receipt and I can’t remember no matter how hard I try,” Courtney cried. “But I did call, I must have called a hundred different companies, but...I think they might be gone.”

“Okay-”

“It’s not okay! Her sketches, her original sketches! How could I have done that, I’m so dumb, I’m so bad at that stupid job!” More tears poured down her cheeks, sobs heaving her chest.

“Hey, come here…” Bianca pulled her in, hushing her softly, a hand rubbing circles into her back. “I know, I get what a big deal it is, but it sounds like you did everything you could. And I promise you, it’ll be okay-”

“How?! How will it be okay?! I’m gonna get fired!” Courtney exclaimed, and Bianca had to bite her tongue, the word ‘so?’ nearly slipping from her lips.

“Okay, well...let’s say you do get fired,” Bianca said slowly. “I don’t think you will, but if you do...would that be so bad? It’s clearly not your dream job.”

“But I need it. I can’t get my new work visa without it. It’s been months and I still don’t have the answer and-”

“You don’t have a work visa?”

“Not after March. I have an attorney who’s working on it, but he keeps running into problems and he’s already charged me so much and I don’t know-”

“Hold up. Galactica hired you, but they’re not handling your immigration issues?” Bianca asked.

“Well...Violet told me not to tell Miss Fame, so I...I was afraid to bring it up with HR. But I got the number of an immigration lawyer from Miss Fame’s contacts, and...it’s all just so expensive. He keeps asking for more money, and I can’t-”

“Wait a second.”

Bianca was no immigration expert, but she knew two things: 1, getting a work visa for an entry level administrative job was nearly impossible and 2, it was actually impossible without the full support of a sponsor company.

“Whoever that lawyer is, they’re a total fraud. Don’t give them any more money, okay?”

“Oh god.” Courtney moaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Why can’t I do anything right?!”

“This isn’t your fault,” Bianca assured her. “You trusted a professional and they took advantage of you. They could be disbarred for that. And as for the sketches...stop beating yourself up. Yes, she’s going to be angry, and upset, but things happen. People make mistakes. I’ve made plenty, believe me.”

“Like this?” Courtney asked, eyes skeptical.

“I once dropped my boss’s wife’s passport off a subway platform.”

“Did you get fired?” Courtney asked.

“No. But I did get yelled at for a solid hour. Maybe two. It wasn’t a good day. But...I got through it. And you’ll get through this.”

“Maybe. But I just know I’m gonna fuck up again. Everything is...I don’t think it should still be this hard, not after 4 months. Miss Fame even said that, earlier today. I’m not new anymore, I should know better. I should be better. What’s wrong with me?!”

At first, Bianca said nothing, simply wrapping her in an embrace. She knew that Courtney was finding the job stressful--anyone in their right mind would find that job stressful. But the fact that it was this bad...Bianca felt guilty for not noticing sooner. She rocked Courtney slowly, letting her fall apart in her arms, whispering comfort into her ear.

After a while, when she sensed that Courtney was cried out, sobs slowing down and some of the tension finally melting away, Bianca pulled back and took her by the shoulders. She paused, considering for a minute if she really wanted to get involved before saying, “Maybe this isn’t the right job for you.”

“Well, I don't have another offer, so...oh, god, what am I gonna do? Is the visa thing really bad? Am I gonna get deported?”

“No,” Bianca said with a smile, shaking her head decisively. “I’ll take care of your visa. Don’t worry about it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet, but there are options. I promise, okay?” Bianca kissed her cheek softly, up near her ear, lips lingering on her tear-stained skin. “I’ve gotten pretty attached to you, so you leaving the country would be a huge bummer.”

Courtney finally seemed to relax, letting out a small chuckle, resting her head on Bianca’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to leave you either. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand tighter, lacing their fingers together. “Does that mean you want to come home with me?”

Courtney nodded slowly, squeezing Bianca’s hand back. “Yes please.”

“Good.” Bianca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And, um...okay so, remember when you said that Christmas music makes you want to go to the beach?”

“Yeah…” Courtney tilted her head, puzzled.

“Well I may have booked us a little...getaway. Just for a few days. So you can have some sun and relax and get away from this dreary weather.”

“Where?” Courtney asked, eyes wide.

“Puerto Rico. It’s not that long of a flight, so-”

“But I thought you had to stay and work!”

“I can work from there.” Bianca flashed her a charming smile, adding, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did. I’m…” Courtney took a deep breath, clearly overwhelmed, and then glanced over to where a beaten-up duffel bag lay on the floor. “I guess I need to pack some other clothes, although I’m not sure I have the right stuff here...”

“There are stores in San Juan.”

Courtney laughed, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. “I’m never gonna get used to the way you live.”

“You will. And that’s a promise,” Bianca said. “So will you come with me? Our flight leaves tomorrow at 2.”

“Yeah, of course! I just need like 20 minutes or so to pack.” Courtney’s mood already seemed to brighten as she began pulling boxes out of a stack against the brick wall.

“Of course, take your time. Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Oh. Uh...yeah, sure. It’s uh...out that door and down the hall, on the right. I share with Fred, but I think he’s at work right now, so-”

“Who’s Fred?”

“Um-”

“You know what, I can hold it,” Bianca assured her, crossing her legs.

“I’ll be fast, I promise,” Courtney said, pulling a pair of sandals out of the box and tossing them to the floor. “And B...thank you.”

“For what, sunshine?”

“Everything.”

***

“I’ll get to the dishes in a minute, mom!” Gigi closed the door behind her, looking around her bedroom in an attempt to remember where she had put her earpods. She crouched down, digging through her backpack. Symone had made her a playlist of music she had to listen to over the holidays, and if she was gonna be put on Cinderella duty, she might as well make it productive.

It felt strange to be home; the smells, sights and sounds were all exactly the same, while she couldn’t help but feel different, like she had grown up in the weeks she was away.

Some of her friends had reached out when they had seen on Instagram that she had returned to L.A, but she hadn’t responded yet. She was an adult now, with a real job, not a college kid that could mess around and do all the things she used to, hanging out in the skate park suddenly so lame and childish compared to all the things she was doing in New York.

She had spent the day in her mom’s studio, watching her work like she had done so many times before, her mom excitedly asking about what clothes she should make her, and showing her all of the sketches she had done while Gigi was away based on the pictures she had sent.

Gigi couldn’t wait to wear her mom's creations, the outfits more chic than anything she had seen in the multiple designer stores she had now been in. Sutan’s words that her style was her edge ones she had really taken to heart.

“There!” Gigi exclaimed triumphantly, pulling her earpods out of her backpack. She grabbed her phone, and was just about to get to the kitchen to do the dishes, when she saw that she had gotten a message from Symone, a massive grin spreading on her face as she slid back down to the floor, leaning against her bed to respond, her chores completely forgotten.

***

JINKX: Hey honey. Just want to make sure you made it home from the airport okay.

JINKX: I read it was snowing a ton.

JINKX: Plus you know, I haven’t heard from you in almost 4 hours so I miss you like crazy.

JINKX: ;-P

ALASKA: Haha, I’m fine. At a bar right now catching up with the bro.

JINKX: Tell him hi for me

JINKX: xoxo

ALASKA: <3

***

It was Christmas Eve Day, barely past dawn, but Courtney was already awake. She’d slipped from the bed as quietly as possible so as not to wake Bianca, padding over to the big picture window to watch the golden sunlight reflecting off the buildings, admire the light dusting of snow on the trees in the park. She wasn’t used to thinking of New York as pretty, but from up here, it really was.

“Hey...good morning…” Bianca said, her voice rough with sleep, just the way Courtney loved most.

“Good morning.” She turned around, giving her a slightly apologetic smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nahh...I guess my body just doesn’t want to sleep without you.”

“I love it when you’re cheesy,” Courtney giggled.

“Oh yeah? Plenty more where that came from. What are you doing all the way over there?”

“Just...checking out the view. It’s pretty amazing.” Courtney turned and headed back to the bed, suddenly missing Bianca’s warmth beside her.

“The view over here isn’t half bad either,” Bianca told her with a wink.

Courtney giggled some more, crawling toward her across the mattress. “Happy Christmas Eve…”

Their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss, Bianca’s hands cradling her face.

“Speaking of which...how do you feel about opening one of your presents now?”

“Really? Already?” Courtney asked, eyes lighting up.

“Well, it’s kind of useful, so I think it makes sense.” Bianca got up out of the bed, pulling a huge box wrapped in silver from her closet.

Courtney sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly as she ripped open the paper to reveal a gorgeous pink Fendi suitcase, covered in what had to be custom crystals. Her mouth fell open.

“I figured you could use it for our trip. You know. I’m all about practical gifts.”

Courtney couldn’t help laughing. The suitcase was anything but practical...but it was perfect, like it was designed from Courtney’s wildest daydreams.

“I don’t know if I have enough to fill this,” Courtney said, running her fingers over it, watching the way the stones glittered in the light.

“Well...that’s cool, I could use the extra space myself.”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. She’d seen Bianca’s packed suitcases, two giant Louis Vuittons and a large, matching carry-on, nearly ready to go.

“You need more space? We’re going for a week...what are you even taking?!”

“More presents,” Bianca said, dimples deepening.

“Oh my god…”

***

Violet chewed on her lip; sorting through Google images really not where she excelled. She was looking for pictures of Raja at the Met Ball, slowly combing through what she could find since her emails to Max and Pearl had gone unanswered. It was annoying, but expected. Pearl never missed out on the chance of ignoring her emails, and Max was british so he completely ignored both phone and computer the minute he left the office, so she was on her own.

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from her station at the living room table to see Sutan head peek in through the kitchen door, his phone against his shoulder, the glasses in his hair betraying that he had been working as well even though it was Christmas Eve. “My mom’s asking if you like klappertaart?”

“... Excuse me what?” Klappertaart? Violet had no idea what that was. It wasn’t unusual for either Raja or Sutan to get a bit confused when they bounced between Indonesian and English, their sentences sometimes mixed up, but that didn’t sound Indonesian at all. “Is that German?”

“Dutch, actually,” Sutan smiled. “Remind me to educate you on the thrilling saga of Indonesia's colonial history some day.”

“Ah,” Violet felt a brief stab of shame, that information seeming like something she should have known, though she had barely even been aware that Indonesia existed before she had met her boyfriend.

“So?” Sutan walked fully into the room, leaning against the doorframe, his black pants tight in the waist, and Violet couldn’t help but admire him for a second. “Klappertaart?”

“I still don’t know what it is.”

“Oh fuck, right” Sutan’s eyes widened, and Violet laughed as she heard a noise from the phone, Murni clearly picking up on her son’s swearing, Sutan quickly putting the phone against his ear.

“Ya Bunda, ya ya, maaf,” Sutan grinned, walking over to the table before putting the phone down so he could continue talking.

“Klappertaart is… It’s a cake, that’s…” Sutan paused, clearly looking for his words. “There’s coconut and… Know what, excuse me.” Sutan held the phone up again, Indonesian falling from his lips as he talked to his mom and Violet had to hide a smile, Sutan clearly never considering what was in this mysterious klappertaart.

“There,” Sutan pulled away, “It’s a coconut cake with almonds and raisins, and we usually have it for Christmas.”

“Huh,” Violet ran over the ingredients in her head. It was incredibly nice of Sutan’s mom to ask if she liked the menu, and there weren’t any of the ingredients that she hated, though warm raisins were disgusting, but she was pretty sure she could get away with picking them off, so there was no reason to create a scene. “That sounds lovely.”

“Great,” Sutan smiled, bending down to give her a quick kiss before he returned to his phone call.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #bitney #jalaska #vitan #bianca del rio #adore delano #courtney act #gigi goode #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #violet chachki #raja gemini #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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kpop-fanatic-lover16 · 4 years

Text

Love is a Sacrifice – Jeong Yunho

Pairing: ateez Yunho x reader + stray kids collab

Genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: death, blood, guns, violence, typical mafia thinks

A/n: I'm so sorry this nearly took me about a month to complete, but I had to back up constantly and at one point I had to start completely from scratch. Anyway, enjoy another mafia from me and I hope you enjoy it! @vernonvsblog

In a sudden instant, your back dug further into the passenger seat as the car you were riding in slowly climbed to an increase faster than the speed limit. Out of fear you closed your eyes and tried to remain calm as your husband gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he pushed the accelerator harder only scaring you more. Jeong Yunho wasn't mad, he was afraid. His actions were urgent and the worst of the worst was rushing through his head over and over like a song on repeat.

The two of you had been out to dinner at a very secluded restaurant when Yunho's emergency pager went off. Mingi, Yunho's second in command, had alerted him about a problem back at the network and further action took place when Hongjoong, the network's hit-man, called him. Both men reported the same issue and the news wasn't good. Yunho's little sister was missing.

"Babe, I know you want to get to her, but if you don't slow down we'll be dead before we get to her," you tried to reason with him to slow down, but it didn't seem to do much change. Suddenly, Yunho switched lanes quickly to avoid hitting another car that had made a left turn at the upcoming intersection. "Yunho!"

"Hush!" he snapped, gripping the vehicle more and filling his head with more determination. There was silence as your heart sped up to a frightening pace and your blood pressure began to rise. If this went on for very much longer, you might pass out. Only when Yunho knew they were a minute away from the apartment building did he glance over at you. Your face was pale and your eyes were squeezed shut imagining something else to calm yourself. His foot came off the accelerator and he began to slow down for your sake.

"Thank you," you whispered, relaxing slightly from your frigid state. Yunho released his shoulders and searched for your hand. When he found it, he held it tightly. He's afraid. You realized. Softly, you rubbed circles onto the back of his hand and tenderly squeezed.

Yunho pulled into the apartment parking lot and pulled up in front of the building. The car stopped and then you noticed how tired you were from all the commotion. If Yunho could be honest with anyone it was you. He could always tell you how he was feeling and never be judged for it. He pulled you into a hug and let out a shaky nervous breath.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," he apologized, pulling back and cupping your right cheek in his left hand. He leaned down and kissed your lips passionately and then pulled back so he wouldn't get too emotional and miss the situation at hand. "Go upstairs, and stay inside the penthouse. Seonghwa is waiting for you right inside the lobby. I'll bring her home and take care of everything. I just need you to stay safe so I don't lose you either."

"I promise," you nodded, unbuckling and grabbing your purse. "I love you."

"I love you too," Yunho replied, leaning in to say goodbye. Both of you shared one last kiss before you opened the door and exited the car. Seonghwa came out of the building and escorted you inside the apartment building as Yunho sped away.

Seonghwa helped you to the elevator since you were wearing heels and a peach pink long-sleeved maxi dress. Once you both were inside, Seonghwa held your arm as you twisted your body to reach down and take your heels off. He laughed at your awful attempt, but still took the hard whack to his shoulder from your hand. When the elevator reached the top floor, it stopped and waited for the passcode to the top floor to be inserted. With ease, you typed the pin code into the keypad and like magic, the doors opened into the entrance hall.

"When did she go missing?" you asked Seonghwa as you went your separate ways; you to your room to change and him to the kitchen to grab a water. It didn't take you long to change before you left to go to the living room and meet Seonghwa. He handed you a water bottle as you came around the coffee table to sit next to him on the couch.

"She didn't answer San's phone calls and then didn't open her door when he came to her room to check on her. She wasn't in any of her hotspots around the city and that's when we think she went missing," Seonghwa filled you in on the nerve-racking situation and seemed to be confident in the fact that they would find her soon.

"I wonder if she has any clues as to where she might've gone, in her room," you wondered aloud. Seonghwa got up and followed you to the teenagers' room and flipped on the light.

As you scanned the room, you noticed two things; her makeup was out and she had changed clothes. The next thing you looked for was evidence of her wallet, phone, and backpack. They were all gone. She would never leave without those three things and if she had been kidnapped in the penthouse those things would have remained behind. Seonghwa looked for weird clues while you tackled her pillows. Underneath one was a card.

"Seonghwa," you began, sitting on her bed and opening the note, "look at this."

I miss you so much already. But the coffee shop is becoming too dangerous. Meet me in Gangnam at 6:45 P.M. and I'll be waiting for you. See you soon, my love.

Seonghwa was already pulling out his phone and dialing Mingi's number. This was exactly where they needed to be looking and they needed to find her fast because Gangnam was enemy territory. Stray Kids, the opposing mafia (yes, mafia), ran that sector and if they found out who Yunho's little sister was then they could use her against Ateez and possibly kill her. Another issue struck with the possibility of Haldam, the third mafia gang, possibly getting their hands on her while she was outside Stray Kids and Ateez's territory.

An hour later, you had talked to Yunho and he had sent a group of seven people to go to Gangnam to see if they could find her. One rule every Mafia boss followed and kept to their reputation was to never do any dirty work themselves. The three bosses had never seen each other. They may have seen each other's men and talked to each other through a voice corrupted audio, but never have they seen faces. But that was the least of their problems because they couldn't work with each other even if they tried.

It was just you and Seonghwa, sitting in the kitchen eating a small snack you had prepared. Suddenly, Mingi sent word to Seonghwa that they had retrieved the lost girl and had brought her back to headquarters. Yunho would be home as soon as it was safe enough for them to travel. Seonghwa stayed with you until Wooyoung called to say they had arrived at the apartment building. He then gave you an encouraging 'good luck' before turning in for the night, remaining on guard for any attack just in case. When he left, the penthouse became quiet as it waited for a more eventful moment. You cleaned up the kitchen and glanced at the clock in the living room, 1:15 a.m.

Please don't let this be an all-night issue. You begged inaudibly. To even think about not sleeping was a dreadful thought and made you wish nothing had happened in the first place. Then you'd be in bed asleep at this hour. A small ding and the opening of the elevator doors, made you stand from your seat in the kitchen.

Just around the wall, Yunho and Hunha stepped off the elevator and walked into the entrance hall. Yunho seemed to be past worry and was now raging with anger. There were two possible reasons why; Hunha could've gotten kidnapped because she wasn't paying attention, or she had left on purpose and didn't tell anyone. Considering she would look more shaken than she was and Yunho would be sensitive to her shakenness, it had to be the latter. She made a beeline for her room, but Yunho stopped her.

"Oh no," he called, "you left this house knowing full well you'd have to face the consequences for your actions. Get back in here this minute!"

Hunha turned around and glanced at you for a moment before coming back to the living room. Yunho pointed to the couch and waited with very little patience for her to sit down. You joined them in the living room, taking a seat on the couch catty-corner from the one Hunha was on. Yunho held out his hand and stood in front of her.

"Phone and wallet," he demanded, watching her closely. When she didn't move he had to push his tone more. "Now."

"No," she rejected, finally looking up at him. You were surprised at her sudden abjection and worried about what Yunho might say.

"Hunha," you interjected, catching her attention. "You scared us nearly half to death and your consequences are the confiscation of your privileges."

"If you don't give them to me I'll take them by force and your grounding time will be extended," Yunho warned. Hunha yanked her phone and wallet out of her bag and threw them at her brother who caught them with ease. "That's an extra two weeks."

"What?!" she screamed, all the while Yunho had handed you the wallet and plugged a bi-connector into her phone for Mingi to access. "How long was it originally?"

"Three," Yunho responded, making sure Mingi was able to access messages, emails, whereabouts, and secret codes. "Did you honestly think you could leave this house and have me just blow it off as if you were nine-years-old because you didn't know any better?"

"I'm sixteen, not nine." she defended, still feeling as though she couldn't make decisions herself. "I have the right to make my own decisions."

"No, you make your own decisions when you're an adult and if I can remember correctly, that age requirement is eighteen. Two years away Hunha!" Yunho shouted, scaring her back against the couch. "Are you going to tell me why you left and was found in Gangnam where it's especially dangerous?"

"It's not that dangerous," she mumbled. Yunho jerked his head at you and then back at Hunha as if realizing something. You took his hand in yours, suddenly worried at his realization. What had he figured out from a small retaliation?

"Tell me his name," Yunho commanded, playing with your hand in his and taking a seat on the coffee table across from you. Subtly, you glanced over at Hunha to see her completely shocked. Did Yunho suspect she was meeting with someone in that area? Hunha remained silent, knowing her mouth would get her in trouble. When you looked back at Yunho, his eyes were glued to your hand in his and he was slightly shaking with adrenaline.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hunha returned, cutting the reply short and avoiding eye contact. In seconds your heart dropped to your stomach as Yunho jumped into a standing position and roared with an anger you had never seen from your gentle husband.

"Tell me his name!" Yunho grabbed Hunha by her shoulders to get her attention. "I swear if you don't tell me who he is I'll find out from Mingi and he'll be killed in the next hour!"

"Jeong Yunho!" you cried, tearing off the couch and releasing him from his sister. Something had gotten into him and this was no way to handle this kind of situation. "That is enough!"

"It's one of the Stray Kids boys isn't it?" Yunho pushed the subject further. Hunha completely looked away from her brother in hopes of keeping her hold on things, but it didn't do much to keep the secret. "I'll kill him," he growled.

"No, you WON'T!" Hunha screeched, standing up in a hurry, marching over to Yunho and pushing him back slightly. Yunho grounded himself from the surprise push. "Han Jisung loves me for who I am and cares for me more than you'll ever wish to!"

"Han Jisung, their mafia’s communication and manipulation specialist? You're through with him!" Yunho roared, putting her phone in his pocket and marching to her room where he also took her computer. All you could do was sit and watch Yunho tear any sort of communication device from Hunha. When he came back in, he was pointing at his sister in an authoritative way, "You're my sister, and Han is the enemy! If I so much as see him anywhere near you or my sector again, I'll have him hanged by his throat! As for you, I'll make sure you never see the light of day if you ever think about disobeying me! That goes for Y/n as well."

Hunha was now sobbing with tears streaming down her face. She weakly pushed passed Yunho and jogged to her room with her face in her palms. The thud of her door closed and you were left with Yunho. His face was slightly red and he was breathing heavily. Unmoving, you stood where you were and waited for him to calm down. He had every right to be mad, Hunha was mingling with his enemy and blamed him for not understanding her love when her safety was his only concern. Her love for Han Jisung was an afterthought to Yunho because his resentment toward Stray Kids was far too strong.

Finally, Yunho looked at you and asked you to follow him to your room where the two of you could talk in private. A soft thud of the door closing shut the two of you off from the rest of the house. Yunho sat on the bed and put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. Without hesitation, you climbed on the bed from your side and hugged him from behind, laying your head on his shoulder blade in a comforting way. In return, he wrapped his arms around yours and squeezed lightly to show you that he wasn’t mad anymore and it was safe to talk.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted in a whisper. Yunho felt helpless. What would his dad do if he was here? Would he have done what Yunho decided to do or would he have tried to understand her side? One thing that kept repeating inside his mind was a phrase that his dad had told just him before he was murdered. Never blink when the enemy is in eyesight.

"You shouldn't have yelled at her like that, then she would've known your seriousness. All she saw was her angry brother," you answered him, knowing he needed to hear what he had done. From where you sat during the whole fight, a fire had been used against fire and it had only added to the situation. Yunho sighed again and rubbed his temples to rid himself of his headache; he already knew that he shouldn’t have yelled at her, but he needed to hear it from you. To relieve his stress you pulled back, "Come here."

Yunho lifted his head and glanced behind his shoulder to see you crawling to the head of the bed and falling against the pillows. Softly, you patted the spot next to you as a small invite. Without any hesitation, he accepted the invite and settled into your side with his head resting on your chest and his limbs wrapped around your body. To soothe his worried state, you combed his hair with your fingers and lightly massaged his scalp.

"Do you think he took her to his headquarters?" Yunho mumbled. You felt him swallow hard to rid his voice of the nerves sitting in his throat.

"I don't know."

"The thought makes me sick to my stomach," Yunho admitted, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "What if he had lowered her into a trap and killed her?"

"Yunho, he didn't. I know you hate him but as your communicator and manipulator, killing her isn’t his specialty," you denied the question quickly. "She's back home safely and now that we know what is going on, then we'll be able to watch her closer."

"I'm going to call Mingi and have him set up extra security downstairs and in the lobby in case she leaves again or she told him where she lives," Yunho suddenly sat up and pulled his phone out of his pocket and left the room, but not before saying, "There is no way I'm going to be able to sleep tonight."

A sigh left your lips at his persistence. When Yunho was worried about something important to him there was no resting. His body and mind wouldn't let him rest even if he tried. Unfortunately, he tore himself up to make sure whatever had happened wouldn't happen again which often led him to over-exerting himself. He cared too much for certain things, and his family was one of them. If anyone threatened to hurt his family like they had done before, he would end them without the blink of an eye.

Back before you had met Yunho, when he was just eighteen, he was given the position of his father's mafia. Unfortunately, he received the position because both of his parents were killed by a hitman from Haldam, the opposing mafia. Ever since then, it's been Yunho, his younger brother Gunho, and Hunha. Gunho lives in a separate apartment in a different city to escape the mafia life. However, Hunha was only just becoming a teenager when her parents died. When Yunho met you, he had no plans on getting close to you because he didn't trust anyone. Seonghwa was the one you grew close to first after meeting him at a communications conference, and then with extreme luck, you met Yunho who trusted no one. Eventually, you got more than one chance to meet up with Yunho and ended up being sealed to his side ever since.

"I have to go back to the office," Yunho said, coming back into your room from the living area. You sighed and nodded, knowing there was no way to convince him into staying. You had tried too many times to get him to stay home and even when he agreed in the end he would go find work. “I have to work or my mind will drive me insane.”

"Okay," you nodded in understanding, getting up from the bed and going to grab a water bottle he could take with him to the office. He met you in the entrance hall after he had finished grabbing a few things. His coat, which he would need, was in the closet in the hallway on the way to your room and he had put on a long-sleeved shirt as well as black skinny jeans to blend in as a citizen of the city. He took the water from your hand and leaned down to kiss your lips tenderly.

"Thank you. Go get some rest, I know you're tired," Yunho said, glancing down at his watch to see it was two o’clock in the morning before resting his forehead against yours for a brief moment. “I’ll have San come up and guard the house while you sleep so you feel safe. I know you prefer me to help you feel safe, but I need to figure out what she told our enemy.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled softly, “we’ll be fine. Just come back before dawn so I know you’re safe.”

“I will, I promise,” Yunho leaned down and kissed your lips once more before putting his coat on and hitting the down arrow on the elevator buttons. The doors opened and he gave you one last smile before he walked into the elevator and disappeared behind the closing doors.

As soon as he was gone, you left the entrance hall and made your way over to Hunha’s room and knocked lightly. Inside you heard small sobs falling from her lips and she still sounded distressed. Fortunately for you, she hadn’t locked the door. The goal wasn’t to go in and talk with her, but to calm her down and get her to go to sleep so she could think straight in the morning. Hunha looked up when you entered the room and began to cry more when you held your arms open to her. You sat down on her bed and hugged her closely to let her know that you understood her pain. Long before you had married Yunho, he wouldn’t let you be around any other guy that he didn’t trust. It was a very frustrating time and you knew exactly what Hunha was feeling, although the men you were hanging around weren’t Yunho’s enemy. They might as well have been.

“He’s gone to the office, so for now I just want you to sleep and I’ll talk to him about loosening your punishment,” you told her as she slowly began to calm down. “But you do understand why he feels this way? I understand there is a chance that you love Jisung, but he is the enemy, and Yunho is looking after your safety. Yunho doesn’t know Jisung like you do so he can’t see anything but danger.”

“I do understand,” Hunha sniffed, nodding at every few sentences. “I just wish he had looked into Jisung a little more instead of just completely riding him off and punishing me for making one decision. I want to have a little bit more freedom.”

“I get that, every girl needs their freedom as they get a little older,” you squeezed her in your embrace and rubbed her back comfortingly. She sniffed and nodded once more as you convinced her to get ready for bed and to get some sufficient rest. Then you went to do the same.

On the way to take off your makeup and turn in for the night, you heard the ding of the elevator announcing that someone had arrived at the penthouse. A smile appeared on your face as you waited for San to get off the elevator. You hadn’t seen him in a long while and it would be nice to be with him again. When the doors opened you halted in your step by the coffee table in the living room. San wasn’t standing in the elevator, it was Han Jisung. He slowly stepped off the elevator with his hands up and a gun pressed to the back of his head with his antagonist right behind him. It was the second in command from Haldam. Two other men appeared from the inside the elevator and glanced around their surroundings before their eyes locked on you. Jisung was asking where Hunha was through his eyes, but you didn’t answer him for that would compromise Hunha’s protection and your chance to protect.

“Where is the girl?” Hongsin, the second in command, called to you. Subtly, you clicked the emergency button on your bracelet to notify one of the boys that you were in danger.

Without missing a beat, you answered nonchalantly, “I’m the only girl in this penthouse.”

“Who are you?” he questioned, glancing at Jisung to make sure he wasn’t going to pull a stupid move against him. Had Yunho done such a good job to keep you a secret that none of his enemies knew who you were?

Suddenly, San appeared from the kitchen with his gun drawn and aimed at the intruders, he entered the living room slowly, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Choi San,” Hongsin rolled his eyes at the sight of one of his best rivals. “I should’ve known. That means if the Ateez boss himself isn’t here and he sent you then she,” he pointed at you, “is also important to him as well as his little sister.”

“If you don’t have anything else I'd like to blow your head off since I kind of have the right and permission to do so,” San growled, getting closer to you to try and get closer to Hunha’s room in hopes of helping you protect her as much as possible. It was also his job to protect you, but Jongho had done such a good job of training you to protect yourself. Another thing Jongho had done was arm the penthouse with guns in specific places so if there was an attack like this current situation, you could protect yourself. It just so happens that there is a MAG-53 under the coffee table you were standing next to.

“I'm not leaving until I have the girl so if I have to shoot you to get her then so be it,” Hongsin threatened, pulling another gun from his hip and pointing his gun at San in retaliation. His other two men grabbed their guns and aimed.

Quickly, you bent down to grab the MAG-53 and fired at the other two men right before you took cover behind the couches. Shots rang through the penthouse, hitting vases, penetrating walls, and piercing your ears. Occasionally, San would jump up from behind his cover and fire a few rounds of bullets. With your heart beating a thousand miles an hour, you peeked around the couch and fired at the wall that made up the arched entrance into the living room. Just before you could get back behind the couch, a bullet pierced through your skin right in the front of your left shoulder.

"Go!" Hongsin shouted, firing continuously at San to give cover for the attackers to get to Hunha's room.

"I need backup dang it!!" San shouted into his communication earpiece. Hongsin slowly made his way to Hunha's room with Jisung trapped in his arms and his gun continuously firing at San. The only guy left grabbed your gun out of your reach and disappeared into Hunha's room in front of Hongsin.

"Go, hurry!" Hongsin shouted behind him. They're going out the window. You thought in a panic.

Fire was burning at your shoulder and it was a pain you had never experienced before. Right before the shots quit, Jisung was thrown out into the living room and then Hongsin closed the door to Hunha's room and locked it. Immediately, San rushed over to you, shoved his gun in his waistband, and examined your wound closely. Jisung began to get up after being tossed on the floor but halted when San shouted at him with a dangerously scary voice.

"Move and I'll shoot you. I don't care who you are."

Jisung remained still, knowing that he was in no place to call the shots. There was no protection from his team and he knew without a doubt that San would indeed shoot him if he stepped out of line. From what Chan, his leader, had said about San was that he could do more than the average human could do in the blink of an eye. Jisung didn’t want to find out what more than average looked like while he was alone. Helplessly, he watched San apply pressure to your shoulder with his palms to stop you from losing too much blood. He had been shot before and it was a pain that no one knew until they experienced a bullet wound. You must be the mother figure Hunha told him about so long ago which meant you were Yunho’s wife. What if the mafia boss comes home to find him, Jisung, in his house with his wife bleeding from a gunshot? He surely wouldn’t live to see the next few hours.

The room broke away from silence when the elevator dinged and five men merged into the entrance hall. Jisung recognized only two of the five as Yunho’s immediate circle. They held guns high in their hands as they scanned the room with dangerous eyes. Why did I leave headquarters to see if she was okay? Jisung asked himself inaudibly as he stayed as still as he could to avoid being seen.

“Where are they?” Jongho called, entering the living room with his guard completely up and his mind on kill.

“They were in Hunha’s room!” San nearly screamed as he applied more pressure to your shoulder. A small whimper escaped your lips at the awful feeling. Jongho moved toward Hunha’s room, but halted and aimed his rifle at Jisung instead. “He didn’t attack. They used him to get into the penthouse.”

Jongho moved on to Hunha’s room, but the other two men stayed behind to hold Jisung at gunpoint. The other man Jisung recognized was Yunho’s hit-man Hongjoong who went to San’s side to aid him in getting you stabilized. Jongho came back out of the room almost immediately and rounded up two men to follow him to the rooftop at a fast pace. They disappeared out an escape window that had the fire escape stairs to the roof. The last remaining man took it upon himself to guard Jisung in case he tried to escape. Hongjoong got up from the floor and turned around to glare at his enemy in the eyes for the first time in years.

“Get up!” Hongjoong barked. Jisung reluctantly got up from his spot, not because he submitted to Hongjoon’s authority, but because he didn’t want his head blown off. He was nothing to the Ateez Mafia so why would they hesitate to shoot him? They wouldn't, that's the thing. Both clans were already at war, his death would just result in more aggression from Stray Kids. “You’re coming back to headquarters with me, thrill-seeker.”

“I wouldn’t flaunt around as if you have complete control,” Jisung warned, knowing if he was missing for a few more hours and didn’t respond to his calls then Stray Kids would look into the other two mafia’s and use whatever strategy they needed to get Jisung back.

“I’m aware of your mafia and that they'll be wanting you back, don’t assume I know nothing of you and your little possie. But you're a part of the gang that just attacked us so excuse me for having a perfect motive.” Hongjoong fired back, using his gun to get Jisung to turn around so he could be bound. Because Jisung was a communicator and manipulator, Hongjoong bounded him and then knocked him out with a sedative to make sure he wouldn’t remember where all of their bases and headquarters were. That would just be asking for a takeover.

“Someone needs to call Yunho and get Yeosang up here immediately,” San demanded, noticing you were losing consciousness. You were looking extremely pale and it had been around fifteen minutes since you had been shot. Yunho was not going to be happy with you being shot and that Hunha was gone again. “Stay with me, Y/n.”

San was barely visible in your vision because he was blurry. Your head felt fuzzy, yet heavy at the same time; you started to feel cold and sleepy from all the commotion. Things were going downhill from where you were and you could catch the concern in San’s eyes briefly. He couldn’t let you die. Not on his watch and not ever. He would never get Yunho’s forgiveness. The entire time San whispered sweet words of encouragement to help fuel your mind with positivity.

Just a few minutes later, once again, the elevator opened and Yeosang appeared with two more men holding guns. While Hongjoong got the three extra men to carry Jisung to the vans so they could get him to headquarters for questioning, Yeosang came over to where San was applying pressure to your shoulder. He knelt and placed his medical bag on the ground beside him and cupped your neck and cheeks in his hands to bring a soothing comfort to your body which he knew was about to go into shock.

Yeosang wiped your tears away from your cheeks and looked at you with a serious tone, "You're going to be perfectly fine, I'm here now."

Slowly, your eyes began to close and your consciousness was fading away; Yeosang and San escaped your vision and disappeared into the darkness before you heard a distant shout. "Y/n!"

At headquarters, Yeosang was pulling out his tools to remove the bullet in your shoulder while Wooyoung and San placed you on top of his desk. Desperate times called for desperate measures and this was one of those times. Mingi had been sent to go get Yunho from his office so he knew what was happening. San and Wooyoung helped cut Yeosang treat you for shock by placing a blanket over your lower half to keep you warm and giving you an oxygen mask. Yeosang told them not to lift your legs in case the bullet had fractured your shoulder and collarbone.

"Where is she?!" Yunho's voice was full of concern as he entered the room. His eyes were frantically searching for your figure and when he saw you, he rushed over to your side. Inside, he was dying to touch you, but Yeosang was about to operate which meant that no one could touch her. "Who did this?"

"Haldam," San answered.

"Where is Hunha, is she safe?" Yunho asked once more, looking back at you and deeply feeling his heartbreak again. San shook his head.

"They took her and escaped with her."

"How, in this forsaken town, did my wife and little sister get attacked in my second well-guarded building?!" Yunho nearly screamed at San. Yeosang turned around with a furious look on his face. The medical personnel ordered everyone out of the room and locked the door behind them so he could extract the bullet and get you back to a healthy state without the frantic yelling in his ears.

"How did my best men fail at their job?" Yunho pressed, his anger growing at a steady pace.

"We didn't fail, we were out-numbered."

"How?" Yunho demanded in a frightening yell. Wooyoung placed a hand on Yunho's shoulder and gently asked for him to breathe. Yunho inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm himself down. Things would never get done if he didn't control himself. He couldn't let his emotions get in the way of his role as the boss. You and Hunha were still important to him, but he couldn't protect either of you if he didn't try to keep himself together.

"We just need to show you instead," San told his now calmer boss.

Yunho nodded with understanding and followed his combative specialist (San) and his artillery expert (Wooyoung). They led him to the fifth floor where the questioning rooms were located. Still confused, Yunho entered the watch room and looked through the two-way mirror at the man in the locked questioning room. His eyes hardened at the sight of his enemy. San crossed his arms and took a step up to the two-way mirror, tightening his jaw at Jisung. Wooyoung hoisted himself up on the table next to the mirror and crossed his legs in a comfortable position.

Yunho waited for an explanation. Frankly, he didn't want to hear it. The deal between the three mafias was that if anyone from their respective mafia was caught mingling in the other mafia's area, the boss in charge of the sector had the right to kill the intruder. This kept the mafias at peace because nobody wanted one of their men killed. It was common to have a low worker (someone not included in each boss's immediate circle) working in each other's sector, but they were usually doing small harmless work. It was only the immediate circle that was killed if found in someone else's area because they were too skilled in their jobs to brush aside.

"Haldam most likely used him to get into the building because Hunha would've given him the passcode, which she knew was against code," San explained. Jisung was staring straight at the mirror, knowing he was being watched. Most likely by the boss of Ateez himself. "He never shot at me and Y/n, to be honest, he didn't do anything."

"What happened after they got into the building?" Yunho gritted out his answer as he read determination in Jisung's eyes. There wouldn't be any of that in a minute if Yunho could help it.

"I got to the penthouse a minute or two after you left and saw that Y/n was talking with Hunha in her room. I gave them some time to talk and went to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. When Y/n came back out into the living room, the elevator signaled that someone had arrived. That's when Jisung stepped out of the elevator and held at gunpoint. For a minute, Y/n tried to distract them by saying she was the only one in the house."

She tried to put herself up for bait to save Hunha. Yunho thought, his chest swelling in pride at your bravery. Jongho had trained you a while ago to defend yourself so of course, you had the confidence to shoot if necessary, but depending on how many men you were going up against would limit your options.

"There were too many and Y/n got shot in the fight before they kidnapped Hunha through her room and escaped out her window to the roof where they most likely had a chopper waiting to pick them up."

"I want to talk to him," Yunho said, referring to Jisung who was still staring at the two-way mirror.

"Are you sure you want to compromise your hidden image?" Wooyoung raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sudden statement. Wooyoung and San didn't need to give Yunho permission to do as he pleased because they didn't have the authority to do so, but they both knew their opinions were valued and that's why Yunho had spoken; to see if he was in the right mind to make such a big decision.

"I'm known as the Faceless Boss out of the three mafia's. Haldam thinks it's because they've already taken my parents out and that I fear for my life, while Stray Kids thinks it's my best strategy to keep afloat. They're both wrong." Yunho declared, picking up one of the white ceramic full face masks with its emotionless expression. He placed it over his face and turned off the light inside the questioning room, collapsing Jisung in darkness. "Turn on the light when I sit down at the table. Then you know what to do from there."

Then Yunho left out a door behind Wooyoung and closed it quietly. On the other side of that door was another door that opened into the interrogation room. Because the lights were off and there was no indication of an entrance into the room, Jisung thought it was just a holding cell of some sort. Faintly, San saw Yunho sit down in the chair in front of Jisung. After three seconds, San flipped on the light.

Jisung squinted slightly at the sudden adjustment his eyes had to make to the light. In front of him was a person with a ceramic expressionless full-face white mask. He remained quiet, knowing he was in trouble and most likely wouldn't make it out of this building alive. He had broken the code all three mafia's had agreed on and they had every right to kill him. Five minutes went by as Jisung watched the mysterious person stare at him. He would be lying if what the person was doing wasn't getting under his skin slightly. Maybe this person was Ateez's communicator and manipulator.

"If you're going to kill me just get it over with," Jisung told Yunho with a bit of resentment laced into his tone. "I have nothing to say to any of you."

"No," Yunho declined the demand, folding his hands in front of him and tilting his head slightly to the side as if telling Jisung he was testing his patience. "Because you have information on where my sister is."

Jisung raised his head in realization and laughed lightly in disbelief. He leaned back into his chair and stared at the mafia boss with a snarky comment rolling off his tongue, "I was right about you. You wouldn't reveal your face even if your sister's life depended on it. I rest my case."

Yunho's temper got the better of him. He kicked Jisung's chair back to hit the wall opposite the wall San and Wooyoung were looking through and then flipped the table off its legs and onto the ground right at Jisung's feet, creating an ear-deafening crash and a skin-crawling screeching. His foot came down on the side of the table laying on the floor and the light flickered slightly as Yunho leaned down.

"Make a new case!" he roared, the lights turned off completely followed by the sharp sound of the ceramic mask shattering above Jisung; the shattered pieces showered onto his head as he flinched back. The lights came back on and the not-so-Faceless-Boss stared at Jisung, his dark chocolate eyes filled with rage. When Yunho wasn't angry, Jisung could picture him looking friendly, nothing like what a mafia boss would look like. Yunho leaned closer and roared in Jisung's face with the power of a raging tiger, "Because my sister's life is on the line and it's your doing!"

"I don't have any information on where she is!" Jisung shouted back, tired of being played with. Yunho stepped back and shook his shoulders slightly to rid himself of the tension. "Even if I did," Jisung tightened his jaw, "I wouldn't tell you."

Yunho jumped forward and grabbed Jisung by his collar and lifted him off of his seat. "You're the common denominator here. Hunha went missing the first time because of you; my girl was shot and is unconscious because of you, and Hunha has now been kidnapped because of you. Let me remind you that you're nothing to me. I would gladly kill you with my bare hands and quite frankly I have every right to do just that, but I can see it in your eyes, you don't want to die. So you're going to tell me where she is or you're going to be with fate sooner than you'd wish."

With that, Yunho let go of Jisung and let him find his balance by himself as Yunho exited the room. San and Wooyoung held their breath when Yunho opened the door back into the watch room. They remained silent as Yunho made his way over to the door that led out into the hallway. Both of them listened intently as Yunho called behind his shoulder.

"Get Chan onto a video call as soon as possible," Yunho paused in the doorway. "He'll be wanting his manipulator back."

A dull ache throbbed in your head as you came back to consciousness. With much effort, you opened your eyes and squinted to adjust your surroundings. Everything was blurry and dim. The more you blinked the better you could see a few ceiling lights turned on and that you were in Yunho's office on a comfortable bed. When you looked down, your arm was in a sling and your bandages were wrapped around your neck and chest to provide better stability. Something must be broken if you have this on. One thing you could move was your right hand and right next to it you felt a call button. Carefully, you pressed the button twice, waiting for someone to come into Yunho's office.

"Yeosang," you uttered as you saw him walking over to you. He hushed you softly and laid a soft hand on your stomach to tell you to lay still.

"How are you feeling?" he asked you, checking your pulse and bandages. You nodded, but stopped halfway when you realized he wasn't looking at you, but instead doing his job as the medical personnel.

"Good, I think," you spoke up.

"You're gonna have to wear this sling for the next six weeks," Yeosang informed, sitting at the end of your bed. His hands began to massage your legs to help blood circulation flow properly due to you being in one position for long periods at a time. "when you were shot, the bullet fractured your shoulder blade and your sling will be able to provide the support your scapula needs to heal."

"Where is Yunho?" you asked, not wanting to avoid the question any longer. "Is Hunha safe?"

"Yunho is leading a team into Haldam's sector to go get her back after he had a meeting with Chan to find her location. It took prompting from Chan to negotiate Hunha’s whereabouts for Jisung’s life. I heard that Yunho’s keeping Jisung in a cell until they get Hunha so that Jisung doesn’t go to get her himself."

"I hope his emotions don't get the better of him." you pleaded aloud, thinking of all the things Yunho would do if his temper controlled his actions while he tried to get Hunha back.

Yeosang laughed good-heartedly at your horrified pleading. "From what I heard he nearly killed Jisung in one of the questioning rooms because he was angry."

"Oh no," you sighed, closing your eyes. I hope he didn't hurt him before Chan saw him. You thought to yourself. "When did he leave?"

Yeosang glanced down at his watch and hummed in thought, "Thirty minutes ago?"

Two hours later

Yunho sat in his conference room and stared at the screen in front of him with determination. Every second that slipped away the more Hunha was in danger and Yunho was tired of waiting, but Stray kids used to own half of Haldam's sector so Yunho could use that information to find his little sister safe. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her. It was a blessing that you would end up being okay thanks to Yeosang's skills, but he needed Hunha back too.

Mingi typed in the meeting code and hit enter, waiting for Chan to answer the call. In the corner of the room, Jisung was being held by Jongho and Seonghwa who had masks on to hide their identities. Jisung had a solid black bag over his head to mess with his sight so he couldn't tell where he was. A few seconds passed before Yunho's screen split and Chan's silhouette appeared on the other half. Yunho for the first time also sat in the dark and let his camera be on.

"State your business, I'm not in the mood for a call from you at five o'clock in the morning. I have other things to do." Chan stated firmly, leaning back in his chair impatiently.

"I have something you're gonna want back," Yunho replied, snapping Jongho and Seonghwa into dragging Jisung over into the light where they made him kneel before removing the bag. Seonghwa stepped away to the side of the room and Jongho stepped back, pulling his rifle from his side and pointing the barrel at his enemy. Chan straightened up in his chair.

"Han," Chan began, irritation building up slowly in his tone. "Care to explain why you're in Ateez's clutches?"

"He was caught walking in my sector and was grabbed off the street and used to get into my penthouse," Yunho explained, keeping his voice smooth and calm, even though his chest was still burning with anger. Chan sighed in clear frustration.

"How would he know who to get into your penthouse when he knows nothing of your sector?" Chan questioned, confused at the story, and mad at Jisung for entering enemy territory.

"He's romantically mingling with my sister who was found in your sector with your manipulator only hours ago. He couldn't wait to see her again and was used against his will to have one of my men shot and cause more trouble."

"It was a woman not one of your men," Jisung rolled his eyes. Chan held up his hand in a demand for silence while he thought. The room was quiet, nobody said a word. Another silhouette appeared and exchanged words with the mafia boss before disappearing.

"It is not his fault that your sister decided to give him all your network's secrets, but it was his fault that he decided to follow through with using them to his advantage. We can see where that got him," Chan mocked his manipulator because he was mad. Jisung knew what would happen if he got caught in enemy territory that he would be killed therefore his training had been disregarded. "Since that was his fault and not mine, it will be his consequences instead. Did you call me on here to gloat that you have one of my men?"

"No," Yunho denied the assumption quickly, "I want to make a deal. His life for Haldam's sector maps."

Chan straightened in his seat. That's against code. Did Yunho expect Chan to oblige to the request so easily? Haldam and Stray kids made a deal to be at peace with each other if Chan didn't give away the maps and use the maps against them. But the real thing tearing Chan apart was, did he care enough about keeping the maps safe more than keeping Jisung alive? Of course not, Jisung was his family.

"Hyung," Jisung began cautiously, hoping not to be whacked with the barrel of a gun again. When Jongho let him speak, he continued, "Haldam attacked me and then attacked them."

That settled it. "I'll send them over, but only once you give me your word that his life is protected."

"I give my word to you."

Yunho got up from his chair and nodded at Mingi in a confirmation to turn off the video meet. Chan held up his hand to stop anyone from cutting him off, "One more thing. This mingling is finished. If I catch your sister on my grounds I won't hesitate to kill her. You keep her in check and I'll keep him aligned."

"Deal."

Mingi then cut the call off and Seonghwa stepped forward to help Jongho with moving Jisung. Yunho approached the three and lifted his head slightly, knowing that things were fixed and he wouldn't have to deal with the manipulator again. "Put him in a holding cell until I get the maps and know Hunha is safe."

"You won't win," Jisung huffed, grunting slightly from the hard grip from his holders. Yunho exhaled irritatedly. "She's near the age of making her own decision and when that happens, she'll choose me because she loves me. You of all people should know that love is unstoppable."

Yunho leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "I showed you my face so that every time you see me, you'll think twice about crossing my path again. And what you have between Hunha and yourself is not love. Love is about making sacrifices, not to relieve your childish hormones of their insufficiency. You'd sacrifice your chance to see her and be with her if it meant her safety which you didn't do because she's in the clutches of someone other than you or me!"

Jisung was no longer hiding his anger towards the man Hunha called her brother. "You're a threat with no action who only looks out for himself and disregards other people's happiness!"

"No, Jisung," Yunho turned back around and took a seat in the chair he was sitting in earlier. "I'm the mafia boss of your biggest enemy. I'm a threat with an intentional promise behind it. I’ve given you your warning, take heed to it, and don’t make me kill you because I will."

Present

The van rocked side to side as he ran over another pothole in the ground on the extremely rough alleyway. San tried to hold his balance as best as he could. Wooyoung was across from him, loading up a rifle with ammunition and checking the rest of his weapons. Yunho was up in the front giving directions on where your location was. After Chan had sent over the maps, Mingi was able to pull up a digital form and find Hunha through the satellites in space. Fortunately for the team, Hunha still had the necklace her parents gave her when she turned twelve. The necklace had a tracking device inside it even though it was extremely small.

It had been twenty minutes since they had left headquarters and the sun was starting to come up. Dawn would make things harder and they would have to figure out a way to keep their stealth but still be efficient. There were another two vans behind the one San was riding in and they were filled with more men to ensure Yunho had a good number. Since they were entering enemy territory, they had to have a good number, otherwise the plan would fail and Hunha might die.

“When we get there, I’ll remain in the van and guide San and Wooyoung into the building with back up behind you,” Yunho was now facing the back of the van and giving out the plan with high expectations. He didn’t even want to think about what he would do if Hunha wasn’t alive when San or Wooyoung found her. “Once you’re inside keep your guard up and don’t let anything disrupt your focus, we only have one shot at this. In case she’s in a different building I’ll have multiple men go into the surrounding builds. It looks like you’ll have ten minutes before Haldam can send back up. Any extra men are in charge of giving San and Wooyoung cover and keeping a path always open. She will most likely be bound. If that is the case, untie her only from the wall or a chair, any other bindings can be taken off when you get back to this van.”

“Copy that.” men from the other two vans replied to the plans.

Forty-five seconds later, the vans pulled up into the alley behind the buildings. San jumped out first with his gun held high and led a group of men to the first building as Wooyoung took the rest to building number two. Wooyoung shot twice at the warehouse lock on the door and kicked it inward to have access inside. Haldam men were inside patrolling their given duties when Wooyoung had kicked in the door. Shots rang through the mental building, piercing everyone’s ears and raising the adrenaline in their systems. Wooyoung took cover behind the large beams and covered for the men around them as they moved to look around.

“Building three is just a storage hold!” someone reported, narrowing down building one and two as the only options.

“Wooyoung, status?” Yunho asked, growing worried at why San and Wooyoung hadn’t said anything.

Wooyoung huffed in frustration and fired at an opponent who had a machine gun. A headshot ceased the constant downpour of bullets and gave him the chance to take out other men firing at his team. “Kinda busy right now!”

Meanwhile, in building one, San had entered the space with caution after he heard gunshots going off in the area Wooyoung had led his group in. In the middle of the warehouse was a trap door wide open. San directed men to the left and right as he approached the hole in the floor. He stared in horror at what was laying at the bottom. He called off the search and looked back at the hole. Two girls, one around San’s age and the other probably Hunha’s age laid on the dirt, shot and half-naked probably from rape. Anger filled San’s body and he had a stronger urge to find Hunha and save her from Haldam. Ateez and Stray Kids were dangerous and brutal, but they never committed horrors like this. It was inhuman.

“She’s not here,” San reported, jumping inside the trap door and gently touching the eldest forehead. Still warm. They had been dead for a few hours San assumed. Before he got too emotionally involved, he wrapped both of them in a burlap cloth that was found inside the warehouse and shut both of their eyes, sending them away in peace. He refocused and got out of the hole with the help of two men and grabbed his gun, “Move to building number two.”

Wooyoung was almost out of ammunition and was completely out of breath. He still had five more minutes before reinforcements arrived and he was starting to think of a new plan. Just when he was about to use the rest of his ammunition, San came through the door, all of his men firing upon the enemy. San pulled two pins from the grenades in his hands and tossed them at the coverage areas. They exploded and all fire ceased.

“About time!” Wooyoung huffed out with anger as he got rid of his empty clip. He loaded his last clip into the bullet chamber and locked it in place.

“You’re getting loose Wooyoung,” San teased, tossing him a few extra clips and smiling at the harsh glare the younger boy gave him. San waved orders out to search for Hunha on the top floor and bottom as the two of them took the stairs down underneath the building. All of the rooms looked empty and there didn’t seem to be any guards downstairs. The last room to the right was locked when Wooyoung tried the handle.

San kicked open the door and pointed his gun inside. Sure enough, there was Hunha, tied to the wall. But she wasn’t alone; Hongsin was next to her holding a pistol to her temple. She looked terrified with tears running down her face. San made sure not to look at her or he would lose his focus completely. Wooyoung stayed hidden behind the wall and waited with a loaded gun. Hongsin pressed the gun further into Hunha’s temple and nodded at San. Stealthily, San switched his gun onto safety.

“Weapon on the ground or she dies.”

San took his finger off the trigger and slowly lowered himself to the floor to put his weapon on the ground. At the last minute, San threw the gun sideways like a boomerang and hit Hongsin in the arm that held the gun. In pain, Hongsin broke the gun away from Hunha’s temple and grasped at his arm to rid himself of the pain. Wooyoung appeared a split second later and shot Hongsin in his hip, making him fall to the ground. Quickly, San removed any weapon away from Hongsin and pinned him down with his foot.

“If I could kill you I would,” San growled at the second in command and pressed his foot into the man’s chest a little more. “But code is code and I never break that.”

Hunha cried out in soft sobs as Wooyoung untied her from the chair and scooped her up in his arms. He didn’t even wait for San to follow as he rushed her out of the room and up the stairs to get her to safety. Hongsin didn’t deserve anything else, but San couldn’t help himself. He took the end of his gun and slammed it over his head, knocking him unconscious.

“That’s for the two girls.”

“Let’s go!” Wooyoung shouted at San from the stairs. San grabbed his weapon and escaped the room quickly, running up the stairs and out of the building with Wooyoung, who was carrying Hunha, next to him.

A minute and thirty seconds ticked down until backup arrived. All three of them got into their van and closed the doors, the van was moving at a rushing pace with the other two vehicles behind them. Wooyoung set Hunha on the floor and cut off her rope bindings, softly shushing her and calming her down with encouragement. Once everything was off, Wooyoung turned her attention to Yunho who was waiting at the front. Instantly she broke down into another flood of tears and crawled to her brother. Yunho sat down on the ground and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her forehead and closing his eyes in relief. He raked his fingers through her hair and rubbed her bicep comfortingly.

Everyone’s shoulders dropped when they were safely in their sector once more. San called Hongjoong to release Jisung because there was no need for him anymore and to get him out and back to Stray Kids before they got to headquarters. Hunha calmed enough for her to ask brief questions, some about what happened, and if you were okay. Yunho couldn’t wait to see you and tell you that everything was going to be all right again. He was moving his family to headquarters and he would monitor both of his girls closely without worry. You would also get the best treatment if you were closer to Yeosang.

“Go rest,” Yunho mumbled softly to Hunha when they got inside headquarters. “You’re safe and I’ll have Hongjoong guard your room so you feel safe.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, hugging him warmly before following Hongjoong, who had been waiting for their arrival, to a room where she could shower and sleep.

Yunho then broke away from everyone and went to go find you. Yeosang helped you get up from bed to help your blood flow better after surgery half an hour ago. When Yunho entered the room, he found you standing by the window facing the city. You had your sling on to help keep your shoulder stable to keep your wound from hurting so bad, but that didn't stop Yunho from running over and giving you a soft giant teddy bear hug. Every concern and worry that had been eating away at his heart left when he embraced you in his arms and held you close to his chest. When he saw your shoulder bleeding and that you were unconscious when you arrived at headquarters he hadn’t known what to think.

“I’m so glad you’re all right.” he sighed and pressed his lips to your head. Yeosang had come to personally tell him your health status after your surgery had finished, but Yunho didn’t have time to come see you because Hunha hadn’t been found yet. Plus, Yeosang mentioned that you were sleeping and Yunho wanted to see you awake.

“I’m okay, I was doing well protecting myself, I just didn’t get behind my cover in time.” you waved off the injury as if it was just a scratch because you had gotten it in the process of protecting Hunha. If for any reason you had been shot, that reason was the best one. “Did you get Hunha back? Is she safe?”

Yunho nodded, “She’s safe and is resting in one of the spare rooms.”

“What about Jisung?”

“What about him?” Yunho peeked down to see you playfully glaring up at him. He broke into a smile and pulled you back into his chest to squeeze you, laughing lightly at the joy you brought him. “I sent him back to Stray Kids before we got back to headquarters. Chan told me he would keep Jisung in line if I kept Hunha away from his sector and away from their mafia. I can’t let them share what they call love. You know that Mafia’s can coexist together as one. Chan doesn’t want to work with us and I don’t want to work with him.”

“So the relationship is finished?”

“From where we stand, yes.” Yunho nodded. “Something I’m worried about is that she’ll leave me for him because I won’t let her be with him.”

“Maybe she will,” you agreed, watching Yunho drop his head in disappointment. With warm intention, you placed your good hand on the side of his cheek and waited for him to look at you. Slowly but surely he did. “But Gunho made his decision to leave and eventually she’ll make her choice as well and you’ll have to accept that.”

“I just feel like that if she picks their side over mine then I’ll lose another family member and I will have to kill her when she comes into my sector because she will be the enemy. And then Jisung will rub it in my face and tell me what I don’t want to hear.”

“But that will be her consequence and if she wants to deal with that then you have to accept that,” you ran your fingers through your husband’s hair as he buried his face in your neck and held you close to him. He reminded you of when he first heard Hunha went missing. His vulnerable side was showing and that side of him is what he had shown to you when you got closer to him five years ago.

“I’ll try to accept it,” he promised, not wanting to change things, but ready to accept them when they do. It was silent for a few minutes. Yunho was thinking about the future and remembering to not forget where he stood in the present. One thing he was going to make sure of to protect you moved you and Hunha out of the penthouse and over to headquarters where it is impossible to gain access.

“But you want to know what’s not going to change?” you asked, with a certain tone in your voice. Yunho tucked his face further into your neck, wanting to relish in the feeling of you for as long as he could before he had to be a mafia boss again and deal with Haldam. Unfortunately, he still had to deal with the fact that he sent men onto enemy grounds and shot enemy defense. He was going to have to use a smooth talk to buy his way out of this one.

“Hmm?”

“Me and you,” you answered, pulling him back so you could say it to his face. He stared down at you listening intently to what you wanted to tell him. His eyes were tired and he seemed to just want to sleep next to you and live a normal life. “I’ll always be here no matter what changes because I love you with all my heart.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” he whispered gratefully. He leaned down and captured your lips in a long-awaited kiss that seemed to settle his heart permanently. His lips were warm and comforting and his hands gave just as much passion and love as he held your hips still. Yunho pulled back, keeping his eyes close as he planted his lips onto your forehead and stayed there. He felt your good hand grip his right side encouragingly. “We’ll get through this, together.”

“Yes, we will.”

#stray kids jisung #stray kids leader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids chan #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #ateez yunho imagines #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez mafia au #stray kids mafia au #stray kids x Ateez #ateez imagines #stray kids imagines

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adenei · 3 years

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Auror 99 - Ch. 7

Chapter 7: Changing Headquarters

When Harry arrived back up on the elevator, he and Ron walked over to Captain Holt’s office. “Come in,” they heard him say, “And shut the door.” The blinds were already drawn so that no one could see in for their particular meeting. “How was the interrogation?” Holt asked.

“Well we’ve received more information, which is promising,” Harry said. “Is there a possibility that King can be a part of this debriefing, too?”

“Ah, forgive me. I almost forgot.” Holt walked over to the portrait and said, “We are ready for Minister Shacklebolt now.” The figure in the portrait nodded and disappeared off the side of the frame. No sooner had the figure disappeared than Kinglsey appeared in their place.

Harry and Ron both looked surprised. Kingsley registered their shock and explained. “The Ministry has been working hard to develop portraits where the owner can ‘step into the frame’ if you will, to have a conversation. It’s a bit like using the floo, but works in long distance cases. It’s good to see you both! Now where do we stand? What have I missed?”

Ron spoke up. “Well, we had a lead on Gerteso yesterday. We tailed him and witnessed an exchange in Manhattan outside of McLeod’s. When the second person, who we were able to identify as Artie Rettinburg, disapparated, it spooked Jake and he broke our cover to try and arrest Gerteso. I dueled him, but it was unlike anything I’ve been in combat with before. He didn’t use a single defensive spell, and got away when he injured Jake.”

Kingsley nodded, so Ron continued. “Jake is fine, it was a low level fire curse, but I had to obliviate him and make up a muggle story for his injury with the rest of the team, which seems to be holding. We were able to bring Rettinburg in for questioning today, and he seemed to solidify some of our hunches.”

“Which are?” Kingsley asked interestedly.

“Ron believes Gerteso is a vampire, and is after someone or something with the Vampire Mob,” Harry said.

“Sanguinity?” Kingsley asked concerningly. “But Voldemort extinguished the entire population of vampires in Britain. There’s a very slim chance that Gerteso is actually a vampire, as he is British.”

“Not unless Gerteso wasn’t on any Ministry record, which we’ve found surprisingly little on him anywhere. The only way we were able to obtain his actual name was through the spells he cast while at Gringotts, and the fact that Ollivander kept meticulous records and hid them well away so Voldemort couldn’t obtain them before he was captured,” Ron countered. “Minister, er, Kingsley, he’s got the speed and agility that’s often associated with them, and the physical description matches, too. Plus, Rettinburg all but suggested he’s a vampire. He said Gerteso mentioned claiming what was rightfully his.”

“Which is? Kingsley and Holt both said at the same time.

“Something from The Cryptic. It sounds like Gerteso wants to kill him off and take his place,” Harry said.

“It all fits, even down to the muggle identity thefts. He was biding his time practicing there until he could get his hands on the wand records so he could trace and locate The Cryptic.”

“But how does the laundering fit into that?” Kingsley pressed.

“We haven’t discussed it,” Harry spoke, “but my theory is that he needs it to pay his way into the inner circles.”

Ron nodded. “That would make sense. Lackeys like Rettinburg never get close to The Cryptic. Gerteso would need gold to buy his way in, especially if his vampire status isn’t well known.”

“Forgive me for interrupting, but what I don’t understand is what revenge Gerteso is actually after. What is, as he believes, rightfully his?” Holt asked.

Kingsley looked at the three pensively. “I have a contact in Italy that may be able to clarify things for us. I should be back soon,” Kingsley walked off out the side of the portrait.

No sooner had Kingsley left, there was a knock on the door before it burst open. A short, bony blonde woman walked in with a look that crossed between equally furious and amused. “Raymond, Raymond, Raymond, did you really think you could conduct an investigation on my turf?” the woman seethed.

“I’m sorry Captain Holt, I tried to stop her,” they could hear Gina say from outside the office.

Holt ignored Gina as he said, “Wuntch. Who let you out of your cage in Satan’s hell hole?” Ron and Harry were rather taken aback at the Captain’s changed demeanor.

“You did when you decided to prance into Manhattan and arrest a man in my area! Have you lost all common courtesy to call and ask permission before waltzing in and picking up an innocent Manhattanite?”

“He wasn’t innoc-” Harry said angrily, but Captain Holt held up a hand to stop him.

“He most certainly wasn’t innocent, Madeline, but we didn’t bring him in for his crimes. We brought him in for questioning and then let him go, if you must know,” Holt said those last four words in a manner which reminded both Harry and Ron of Snape. Each word was drawn out and dripped with conviction.

“I don’t believe you,” Wuntch said, getting a little too close into Captain Holt’s face.

“You don’t have to,” Holt said without backing down.

Kingsley broke the silent stare down when he reappeared in the portrait. He quickly realized there was another person in the office and froze, but it was too late. Madeline had seen him. “Wh-what was that?” she asked. Her stone cold demeanor breaking.

“Nothing, Wuntch, Satan’s probably playing tricks on your eyes,” Holt said.

“No, Raymond, that portrait was empty a second ago and now there’s a man in there,” Wuntch insisted.

Harry grabbed hold of his wand, and, blocked partially by Ron so Wuntch couldn’t see, held it up and cast obliviate. Instantly, Wuntch was none the wiser of what just happened. Once the haze had lifted, she shot Holt another look. “I’ll be watching you closely, Raymond.” With that, Madeline Wuntch turned swiftly on the spot and marched out of the room.

Holt walked over and shut the door after she’d left and looked back to Ron, Harry and Kingsley. “I’m sorry about that rude interruption,” he said.

“Who was that?” asked Harry.

“My arch-nemesis on the force. Satan’s spawn. Thank you for your help in, wiping her memory, is it?”

Harry nodded as Ron looked at Kingsley’s portrait. “Any news?”

“Yes, actually. I think we’ve found a motive on why Gerteso is after The Cryptic. My contact tells me that The Cryptic is the head of the Sanguinity’s New York division. Apparently, Gerteso attempted to appeal to Sanguinity leaders in Italy, claiming he was a vampire, but had no records to back it up. They dismissed him and his request to start the London division anew following the second wizarding war.”

“So he’s out to claim a division of his own...what’s ‘rightfully’ his,” Harry said.

“Exactly.”

“But why would he choose New York? Why not choose a smaller, less prevalent city? Say, Boston or San Francisco?” Holt pondered.

“Probably to flex. Prove he can take down one of the most powerful leaders within the Sanguinity,” Ron offered his suspicions. “But here’s the real question. Do we stop by just catching Gerteso? Or do we let him lead us to the Cryptic and try and break the New York division as well.”

“Our jurisdiction strictly lies in the capture of Gerteso,” Kingsley said firmly. “Though I do not think that the American Aurors would disregard any leads you may have for them in relation to The Cryptic.”

Harry and Ron nodded while Kingsley continued. “Now that we know roughly what Gerteso is after, it would be wise to station you closer to Gerteso’s targeted location. MACUSA has offered their penthouse suite as a new headquarters for your team. They are currently outfitting it with all of the necessary items you’ll need for surveillance and research, including history books on the mob and history of vampires for Charlotte. I suggest you go back to your current flat and pack up your things. You’ll be able to move locations in a couple hours. You’ll use the code 2598 to gain access into the building and the bellhop will check your identity before passing on your keys. If you need me, call Holt for correspondence.” Harry and Ron nodded, as Kinglsey left the frame.

***********************

The penthouse suite was surreal. Of course, it was magical in nature, so they were sure that it had been manipulated to fit their needs. They walked into a spacious living room and kitchen/dining area. The living space had plenty of seating and there were several computers set up around the edge of the room for research purposes, as well as a large bookshelf, filled with whatever they might need. There were two wings with bedrooms and bathrooms. Two bedrooms on either side, making four in total. Each room had two full beds with an adjoining bathroom in the middle to share. Charles was insistent that the girls take one side, and the boys take the other, probably to prevent Nolan and Charlotte’s ‘affair’ from continuing.

It was late evening and the seven members of the team had settled into their new headquarters. Everyone had decided to disperse for bed, in order to get a good night’s sleep before tackling all of the research. When the coast was clear, Hermione had snuck over to the boy’s room and cast muffliato on the door so no one could hear their conversation. They were discussing the potential plan of setting up a watch within the wand records office in MACUSA. Ron and Harry were in agreement that they should go into MACUSA to keep an eye on things.

“...But do you really trust that the 99 is going to let you and Harry team up on this?” Hermione asked Ron. “Maybe we need to tell them. We can’t have anything mess this up! He could make his move tomorrow for all we know.”

“You heard Kingsley, we can’t Hermione! Man, I love you, but it’s a good thing you didn’t become an Auror,” Ron said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione gave him a look.

“Just that you’re not thinking the right way about this mission. We’ll figure it out tomorrow when we suggest the assignments. They haven’t gone against our ideas yet, so I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Ron tried to explain.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, hopefully you do team up with Harry because you’re starting to adopt some of Jake’s mannerisms. When have you ever said, ‘man?’”

“Like you haven’t taken up some of Amy’s hobbies?” Ron tilted his head towards the binders in the corner of the room.

“Yeah, okay, on that note, I’m going to bed,” Harry said. “You two can share this room.”

Harry got up and headed for the door. None of them had realized that they’d relaxed their glamour charms. It was a nightly routine they’d gotten into the habit of. What was worse, was that their scars were becoming visible again, and it had all gone unnoticed thus far. Harry opened the door and stepped out, only to stop dead in his tracks. Jake and Amy were on the couch, heads close together in what looked like it could have been a snog.

#hp fanfic #hp au #hp b99 crossover

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⚘ A Sick Ride (Tobio Kageyama)

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff, AU

Word Count: 3,332

Pairing: Reader x Kageyama

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompt(s): A is sick and B takes care of them. / “Checkmate, sweetheart.” / Uber Driver AU

Author’s Note: This was written for the weekly-prompt (08/26/20) over on @hqbookclub ‘s discord server – you should check it out if you haven’t ;)

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Being an uber driver came with its fair share of headaches, but the pros heavily outweighed the cons. You were your own boss, working when you chose to rather than being stuck to a schedule, and if you didn’t want to drive someone because they were being a jerk, you didn’t have to. Most of the time, your clients were kind and respectful, keeping to themselves or making small talk, and the tips were great. Your rating on the app was above average because of this, but not top notch because you weren’t afraid to tell people off when they acted stupid.

Most of your clientele were repeat customers that appreciated your work ethic and professionalism, so they specifically requested you whenever possible. Because of this, you stopped taking new customers so you could focus on your repeat customers. One of the biggest clients that you dealt with was a man named Kageyama Tobio who, despite being fresh out of high school, was on a professional volleyball team representing Japan at the Olympics. He lived in a penthouse in Tokyo and clearly had more money than he knew what to do with, judging by how he tips without even counting the amount of money he offered you. He was a silent customer, preferring to keep to himself and get some rest between his interviews and practice games, which was fine with you.

You pulled up outside the penthouse, pulling out your phone to let him know that you were waiting outside and, like always, he responded with one word. You glanced at the sky, seeing the dark clouds rolling in. It was super humid outside, the summer heat nearly unbearable. The AC in the car wasn’t nearly as cold as usual because of it, but it was better than nothing.

The back door was pulled open, Kageyama practically throwing himself into the backseat. You glanced at him through the rear view mirror and frowned, turning in your seat to get a better look at him. His face was unusually pale, dark bags sitting beneath his bloodshot eyes, and the tip of his nose was bright red. He looked like absolute hell.

“Kageyama -”

“I’m going to be late,” he mumbled under his breath, body slumping down against the seat as he closed his eyes.

Chewing on your lip, you reluctantly started the GPS and pulled away from the curb. The ride was silent, broken only by the sound of the AC working hard to keep the car cool, and you found yourself glancing back at him every few minutes, but he didn’t shift from his position once. When you reached the office building where his next interview would be taking place, you parked the car and glanced back at him.

“We’re here,” you stated, but he didn’t move, making you turn in your seat. “Kageyama?” You reached out to him, feeling heat pouring off of his skin before you even made contact. When your fingers touched his forehead, your eyes widened. ‘He has a serious fever. Shit, what do I do?’ You turned back around, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you looked at the building. ‘He’s certainly not up for an interview…’ After a couple minutes of internally debating with yourself, you put the car in drive and headed back the way you had come.

Thunder began to rumble overhead as you got closer to the penthouse, rattling the windows of the car. Rather than pulling up at the front of the building like you normally would, you pulled into the parking garage where you came to a stop in front of the metal arm. The old man sitting in the booth started toward you, so you rolled the window down with a soft smile. “Good afternoon.”

“Afternoon.” He smiled back, tipping the hat he wore that matched his security uniform. “Are you here to visit someone? I’ll have to call up to them to verify.”

“Ah, no, actually…” You cleared your throat, a bead of nervous sweat rolling down your cheek. “I’m an uber driver that came here to pick up Kageyama-san, but he passed out in the backseat.”

The man tilted his body forehead to look into the back of the car, lips tugging downward. “I keep telling that boy he’s going to work himself to death. I saw him this morning and told him he looked sickly but he just waved me off.” He straightened his back with a huff, moving his hand as if he were swiping at an invisible fly. “I’ll let you through. Make sure he gets to his suite safely, you hear? Suite 305 on the eight floor.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You nodded, turning your attention in front of you as the metal arm slowly started to rise up, allowing you to drive through the opening into the garage. You took the first available space before turning off the engine, dropping your keys into your pocket. As you headed for the opposite side of the car, your eyes scanned the garage, looking for someone that might be able to offer some assistance, but that level was empty. Thunder rumbled again, louder and stronger as the first signs of rain began to tumble from the sky.

You pulled the back door open, gently shaking his shoulder. “Kageyama-san. I know you don’t feel good but please wake up.”

A barely audible whine passed his lips, but he didn’t wake from his slumber, making you hang your head. You couldn’t just leave him in the car, he needed to get into bed so he could recover, but you were worried about your ability to carry him. Now, you had been on the wrestling team back in high school, so you were naturally stronger than the average person, but that was nearly three years ago and you certainly hadn’t kept up with your training in that time. Bringing your hand to your chin, your eyes scanned his body. Despite the slightly baggy clothes he wore, you knew that the volleyball player was mostly muscle and you imagined he probably weighed around a hundred and sixty pounds or so.

‘I can totally do this.’ With a nod, you carefully unbuckled his seat belt, having to hold him up so his body wouldn’t slump farther into the car. “I’m just putting this out there, if you want to wake up just long enough to help me out here, that’s be great.” But still, he did not stir. “Okay, fine. Be that way.”

With a huff, you brought his body closer to the edge of the seat, sliding your arms beneath his body. You originally wanted to carry him on your back, but getting him there seemed much more dangerous than you originally thought. ‘Guess he’s gonna be a princess today. Remember to lift with your legs,’ you grunted at his weight, but it was doable. Your arms would hate you later for it, but you felt confident that they could handle it long enough to get him upstairs.

Once he was out of the car, you kicked the door shut and headed for the elevator, having to bend your body so you could tap the button with your knuckle. It seemed to descend at the pace of a slug that had eaten its fill of your grandma’s plant, but it finally arrived with a ding, the doors sliding open. As you stepped inside, Kageyama shifted closer to you, his face falling against your neck as his long gingers clutched at your shirt, soft mumbles passing his lips. Heat rushed to your face, but you convinced yourself that it was just because of his flushed skin pressed against your own and not because you were currently carrying a very attractive celebrity athlete.

It was a struggle to press the eighth floor because it was higher than where your hands currently sat, but with some mild determination and a threat to ‘smash the button so many times it will forget its purpose’, you finally managed it, releasing a sigh as you leaned back against the wall. ‘What has my life become?’ You wondered, your eyes trained on the red digits above the door, slowly climbing toward the number eight. ‘He is my best customer, after all. I think his tips alone have earned a little special treatment. Besides, I’m just going to drop him off and then leave, he’ll never even know.’

The elevator lurched to a stop, dinging loudly as the doors slowly slid open and you stepped out, scanning the long hallway. ‘Let’s see, that one says 310 – 315.’ Your eyes shifted to the left. ‘And that one says 300 – 309.’ You started down the left side of the hallway, having to stop so you could readjust the man in your arms, which were quickly going numb.

At the realization, you walked a bit faster, eyes scanning the golden engraved plates by each door until you found the one you were looking for, but there was a problem. ‘How in the nine hells am I supposed to get inside?’ You glanced at the man, feeling your face grow hot again at the mere thought of rifling through his pockets, but… what choice did you have?

The door down the hall creaked open and then closed a moment later, a woman in her early sixties stepping out into the hall pushing a cleaning cart. She paused when she saw you, suspicious because she knew every single person that lived or worked on the first ten floors and she had never once seen you before.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile that you hoped didn’t appear guilty. “Hello! My, uhm… friend lives here but he kind of overworked himself and passed out, would it be possible to open the door for me so I can put him to bed?”

For a moment, she just stood there, her narrowed eyes darting between you and the navy haired male, and then without a word, she pulled a set of keys from her pocket, approaching the door. You stepped back to give her room, wishing she would move a little bit faster because you didn’t know how much longer your arms would hold up.

When she finally got the door open, she paused, her narrowed eyes returning to your face. You shifted awkwardly, feeling as if she were looking into your very soul. Finally, her lips parted and she said in a raspy voice, “Take care of that idiotic blueberry.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as she returned to her cart and continued down the hall, knocking on the next door down before entering. ‘What a strange woman.’ You shook your head, stepping into the cool apartment. It was fairly modern, with very little decorations – and the few posters that he did have were all volleyball related. There was a small hallway just inside the door that opened up into a large area, the kitchen on the left with a small island and the living room on the right. The general colors of the place were white and grey, with a couple of other neutral or dark tones splashed in here and there. Beyond the kitchen was a short hallway that held three doors and since the first door was cracked open, you checked that one first.

‘Score!’ You grinned, stepping into the room and using your elbow to flip the switch, bathing the room with a soft yellow glow. Unlike the other room, his bedroom featured dark blues and greys, his sheets the same color as his hair. You gently laid him down, releasing a sigh of relief for your arms, which shook lightly from the horror that they had been subjected to. ‘Now I can leave and get back to work,’ you thought, turning toward the door, but something made you pause and look back at him. His breathing was heavy, mouth parted because he couldn’t get air through his nose. His face was a deep shade of red, a thin sheen of sweat dripping down his skin. You honestly felt bad just leaving him like that. ‘Damn you, Y/N, and your empathy!’

With a groan of frustration, you left the room to search the bathroom for a thermometer, but there was none there. Instead, you grabbed a washcloth from the rack bolted to the wall and headed into the kitchen, running it under cold water before wringing it out. You checked the cabinets and then the drawers, finally finding the thermometer in the junk drawer. You took the cap off, running it under hot water for a moment before drying it with a paper towel and heading back to his bedroom.

First, you folded the towel and set it across his forehead before carefully setting the tip of the thermometer into his mouth, forcing his mouth closed until it started to beep. ‘103° F… damn. I can’t really do anything until he wakes up.’

The phone within his coat pocket started to buzz loudly, making the boy stir in his sleep, a groan leaving his lips. You pulled the phone from his pocket, seeing the name Sawako Akimi flashing across the screen. Your thumb lowered only to lift again as you debated on whether or not to answer the phone, but then it stopped ringing, only for a text message to come through from the same person.

• ‘Where in the world are you, Tobio?’

You frowned at the use of his first name, but you knew it made sense that he would have a girlfriend considering how attractive and successful he is at such a young age. Before you could reply to the message and explain the situation, she continued.

• ‘You’re missing your interview! Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to secure this for you?’

• ‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me. The looks these people are giving me!’

• ‘If you’re playing volleyball at the Y again, I swear, Tobio!’

Taking a breath, you started to type out a message before she could send another. ‘Hello there, my name is Y/N and I apologize for messaging you like this but I thought you should know that Kageyama-san is currently sleeping. I’m his uber driver and he passed out in the backseat of my car, he’s got the flue, I think. I brought him back to his room and I’m going to leave now, but I thought you should know :)’

She responded instantly.

• ‘Who the hell are you? Is this a joke?’

• ‘Who do you think you are using his phone?’

• ‘Don’t you dare move, I’ve called the cops! You’re going to be arrested for breaking and entering, stalking, plus assault! Checkmate, sweetheart. You fans are so disgusting, honestly.’

Your heart started to race within your chest at the words and you quickly tapped the power button to turn off the screen, setting it onto the bedside table. ‘Shit, what am I supposed to do? I should leave, but… won’t that make me look guilty? There’s no way to prove my story, though…’

Kageyama shifted, his eyes fluttering open. His body felt sore and heavy, as if he had been hit by a truck and he could’t recall where he last was. He could feel his sweaty body beneath his clothing, feel the burn in his nose when he tried to breathe through his nostrils. As he forced himself into a sitting position, his stomach churned and he slapped his hand over his mouth, bolting from the bed to rush to the bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

You frowned as you came up behind him, softly rubbing his back to try and soothe him as he dry heaved. Though the thought of being arrested for trying to help worried you, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him alone when he was feeling so ill. ‘I am so going to regret this. What if I get fired? Shit.’

Kageyama pushed himself up until his back hit the side of the tub, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were half-lidded as they stared at you, clouded with misery. “Why…” his voice was hoarse and raw as he tried to put his thoughts into words. “Why are you here?”

“You passed out in my car,” you explained with a frown. “What were you thinking, trying to go to an interview when you’re sick? I know I have no right to lecture you, but that was really stupid.”

His eyes widened at the mention of the interview and he groaned, letting his head fall backward. “Shit… the interview…”

“Yeah, about that -”

A loud banging echoed throughout the suite, followed by a loud male voice. “Police! Open up!”

You gave him a sheepish smile before standing up and heading to the door, pulling it open. Two officers stood on the other side of the door, looking at you suspiciously. “Hello, please come in.”

“We’re looking for Kageyama Tobio, the owner of this suite.” The first officer, Karaki, didn’t spare you a glance as he looked around the suite, looking for anything out of place.

“He’s in the bathroom -”

“And who are you?” The second office, Akimaru, eyed you suspiciously, his hand on his belt.

“My name is L/N F/N and I -”

“Did you get them, officers?!” A woman came rushing through the door, breathing heavily. Her eyes landed on you and she scowled angrily. “What are you waiting for? Arrest them! They entered this apartment illegally!”

“Calm down, ma’am,” Akimaru commented, holding his hands up when she tried to get closer to you. “We have to assess the situation.”

“Assess the – are you stupid? They are clearly a fan trying to take advantage of Tobio! I demand you arrest them!”

“Umm, I was just trying to help,” you sweatdropped, holding up your hands in surrender.

“That’s what they all say!” She scowled, putting her hand on her hip. “Fans always believe they are helping, but they are only helping themselves!”

You scowled, starting to feel annoyed by this screeching woman. “I am not his fan, I don’t even follow volleyball!”

“Yeah, right!”

“Will you stop screaming,” Kageyama slowly shuffled into the room, arm across his stomach. “You’re giving me a headache.”

“Tobio!” She rushed past the cops, pulling the taller male into a hug that he clearly didn’t want, his nose scrunching up. “Don’t worry, this psycho will be arrested for what they’ve done to you.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing her back with more effort than usual because of his weakened state. “Y/N isn’t going anywhere.” His eyes turned to the cops. “My name is Kageyama Tobio and I asked them over to take care of me while I’m sick.”

“Why are you lying for them?” The woman huffed. “I have the messages for pro -”

“Please go away, Sawako-san. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics. I’m going back to bed.” His dark eyes met yours and he reached out to you, waving his hand. You took the hint, following him back into the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I’m sorry about all this…”

Kageyama fell onto the bed with a groan, his half-lidded eyes landing on you. “S’fine. Thank you… for helping me.”

You smiled softly, picking up the damp rag that had fallen to the end of the bed when he sat up, gently placing it on the back of his neck which elicited a soft sigh from his lips. “You’re welcome, Kageyama-san.”

His eyes slid closed as sleep started to tug at his consciousness. His words were soft, barely audible, and you had to take a minute to process them because of that. When they finally registered, though, you couldn’t help the smile that came to your lips.

“Call me… Tobio…”

You gently brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Rest well… Tobio.”

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woossexyponytail · 4 years

Text

Breaking Instinct.

Seonghwa x reader

Warning | character death.

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My eyes opened as I layed in bed waking up from my hazy dream, I stretched my arms out feeling the pop of my bones. Turning slightly to my left I saw my husband Seonghwa sleeping peacefully next to me.

His arms wrapped around my waist the exact place it was before we fell asleep last night. I grinned at him peeking his head as I slowly got up out of bed.

Wrapped my dressing gown around me and putting on my slippers I made my way down to the kitchen. The glittering sunrays spread various hues of shiny silver and gold through the kitchen.

Moving over to the windows that looked out onto our beautiful small garden, I opened it as a gentle cool breeze blew in causingme to smile, the faint chirping of birds was the first thing I heard watching them fly around.

I walked over to the fridge opening it up grabbing some eggs, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms, closing it back up with my leg I place the food down on the counter as I picked up two pieces of bread and started to work on Seonghwa's breakfast.

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Humming to myself as I cooked the egg I hadn't realised that Seonghwa woke up already, feeling him place his arms around my waist his chin on my shoulder watching me cook.

"Your up already? You don't need to be at work for another two hours yet?" I asked truning to look at him quickly then going back to the frying pan in my hand.

"How can I sleep when my beautiful wife who looks more beautiful everyday, is up already cooking a wonderful breakfast?" He asked, I giggled as he placed his lips against my cheek, walking over to make himself some coffee.

"I wanted it to be done already, so I could surprise you" I said as I pouted not being able to surprise him this morning. Seonghwa chuckled as he walked passed me to sit at the dining table.

"You don't need to surprise me with breakfast you know" he said as he grabbed the tv control turing on the news.

"Breaking news, Jung Sangwook CEO of the global corporation SunBeam was found dead this morning, in his penthouse in Gangnam-gu, police say that I looks like a professional hit. We will keep you updated-" the tv was turned off as I felt my stomach twist.

"I'm sorry, I forgot San had a job last night" Seonghwa sighed as he walked up to me rubbing my shoulders, I breathed in shaking my head as I smiled up at Seonghwa.

"It's fine, that's your job" I said shrugged as I went back to the food. He sighed hugging me as he swayed us back and forth.

"That's their job, I just make sure the don't die, that's what Doctors do" he said, I turned around looking up at him.

"Seonghwa you still work for a gang a violent one for that matter, you told me after we got married that you would quit so we can be safe to start a family. Don't you want that with me anymore?" I asked getting a bit upset about the situation.

"Of course it is and you know what your right, I'll tell Hongjoong later that I want to leave so we can focus on our family" he said, my eyes widened as I listened I smiled hugging him tightly.

A shrilling noise broke the silence looking over to Seonghwa's phone he left on the table, he walked over answering the call.

"Hello?, yes. Okay I understand, I'll be there soon." He said hanging up Seonghwa turned around smiling guilty at me, I knew by that look that he needed to go to work.

"Go it's fine I'll just-" I said Seonghwa ran over kissing me as he legged it out the door bringing his coat with him. I sighed watching the doot close behind him.

"Eat all the breakfast myself, like normal" I finished as I turned back grabbing the toast and taking an angry bite of it, throwing it down on the plate.

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I was sitting at my desk at work editing through the new magazine for next month, the office was quite for today which was surprising since it was always a bit of a mess, but I wasn't complaining.

"Yn! How's the front cover coming along?" My boss asked as she came walking up to my desk, taking a look at the screen nodding her head.

"Good keep it up" she said walking off, I carried on working, but after a few minutes I started to feel a bit sick, picking up my water bottle taking a sip.

I breathed in slowly and going back to the computer, but the feeling didn't vanish, I stood up rushing to the bathroom. I stood over the toilet chucking up my breakfast.

I wiped my mouth and splashed water over my face, placing my hands on the sink I leaned down with my eyes closed.

"You alright?" I looked up seeing Im Yoona one of the manager asked as she walked in to the bathroom, I smiled weakly at her nodding.

"Are you ill? You really should go home if so" she said as she rubbed my back, I shook my head as I stepped away from the sink.

"I'm fine, I just keep getting a bit sick every now and then" I told her reassuring her, Yoona broke out in to a smile after I said that.

"I suggest you visit the pharmacy on your break, and pick up a pregnancy test while your there" she said as she left, I stood shocked at what she said, 'Me pregnant? It can't be can it?' I thought as I placed my hands on to my stomach.

A buzz from my pocket took my out of my thoughts, taking out my phone Seonghwa had text asking if I want to go to lunch with him on my break. I quickly text yes as I made it back to my desk looking at the time seeing that I had an hour left until my break. This was going to be a long day.

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I left a bit early for lunch to go to the pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test, though the woman behind the counter told me it would be better getting a couple.

So here I was walking to the restaurant that Seonghwa picked out with a couple of pregnancy tests in my bag. I felt my stomach turn thinking about it, should I tell him that I might be pregnant or should I wait and find out if I actually am.

I walked in to the restaurant seeing Seonghwa right away, he looked up smiling pulling out the chair as I sat down.

"You're more beautiful every time I see you. How has your day been love?" He asked as I picked up the menu and had a look through, Seonghwa doing the same as I saw him peeking over the menu to look at me.

"Fine the magazine for next mouth is on track" I said giggling at him messing around, Seonghwa put the menu down so he could grab my hand a place a kiss on it.

After getting our order we spoke about bits until Seonghwa smile widened, knowing he had something exciting to tell me.

"What do you want to tell me?" I asked giggling at him, Seonghwa took a drink and placed it back down on to the table.

"I've spoken to Hongjoong, and I have one more job to do then I'm done for good with them" he told me, I couldn't contain my happiness as I placed my hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

"You mean it? Really? Hongjoong doesn't mind losing the best Dr ever?" I asked, Seonghwa nodded leaning over the table as we kissed, sitting back down I couldn't stop smiling.

"He said he understands, He wouldn't want to bring a child up in that world either" he explained, this really is amazing and I might already be pregnant this could be good.

"We need to celebrate! How about tonight we get dressed up all fancy and have a romantic evening?" Seonghwa asked as I just nodded to excited to speak. We picked up our cups clinking them together as we enjoyed the meal.

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After work I got back home, opening the door I called out only to be left with silence, I placed my bag down taking off my coat and shoes as I made my way to the bedroom and get ready for the evening.

I was standing looking at the dress I picked for tonight, it was laying on the bed, I ended up remembering at that moment that I had the pregnancy tests in my bag.

Quickly grabbing them I made my way to the bathroom to take the tests. After a few minutes I waited for all three tests to be revealed, I stood staring at myself in the mirror, thoughts of being pregnant, I couldn't help but smile.

My phone went off signalling that the time was up, I turned the alarm off as I took a breath slowly picking up the first test.

"Positive?, Positive? And Positive! I'm pregnant!" I said looking at all three tests that confirmed that I was indeed pregnant, I screamed as I jumped up and down in my spot.

I ended up dressed as I waited on the sofa for Seonghwa, thinking of different ways to tell him, should I tell him when he walks in? Thorugh dinner? After dinner? I didn't really know.

I jumped hearing the door open, I stood up to great Seonghwa in my dress, he rusted in and stopped staring at me as you saw my dress.

"Your more beautiful ever time I see you" he said as he walked over to me passionately kissing me as I melted in to his touch, he pulled away just as fast.

"We still have three more hours until the reservation I booked, I need to go to work quickly. Hongjoong called from the car saying something about Mingi getting hit, I'll be back fast ok?" He explained, I sighed but nodded my head knowing the group needs their Doctor.

"I love you, be back soon. Okay" he said kissing my head as he ran back out the door, I sighed biting my lip getting anxious and hoping he will be back soon.

Sitting down on the sofa I once again waited, gabbed the control flicking on the tv, the channel was still on the news I went to turn it off not wanting to see, but something caught my eye.

"Breaking news the office building of the company makers as you can see are up in flames, no one knows why or how this happened, but we will keep you updated." The news reporter said, I quickly turned it over watching something to get my mind off of any danger.

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I looked over at the clock it had already passed two hours, one hour to go and if Seonghwa wasn't back yet not only is that not a good sign but the reservation will be cancelled.

I sighed for the umpteenth time as I stayed sitting in silence the tv long forgotten, my anxiety rising every minute that ticked by.

My eyes have been glued to the clock on the wall, I'm not sure when I first started watching it but all I know is that it's been a while.

Hearing the ring of my phone I jumped at the sound not expecting it to ring, I grabbed my bag that was on the table infront of my taking my phone and answering it.

"Yn! Thank god you need to get to Seonghwa's office immediately!" I heard Yeosang's voice he sounded panicked, after he said that he hung up, I quickly made my way to my car to drive off.

I ran through the door of the groups building, it was large but thankfully I knew my way around. Running up the stairs since the lift would take to long I made it up the four flits of stairs.

"No!" I sceamed running to see Seonghwa laying in the floor, blood over his chest as the group stoodbaround him, I knelt down to Seonghwa already crying seeing him like that.

"Seonghwa! Seonghwa, it's Hongjoong. Try to open your eyes if you can. I'm here with Yn." Hongjoong said as he started at his face, he looked in pain himself but my main focus was Seonghwa.

"Can you hear me? Seonghwa, wake up. Seonghwa, please wake up." I begged as I stroked my now shaking hand over his face, my other hand going to his to hold.

"Yn." Seonghwa said his eyes finally opening, I smiled at him as he squeezed my hand a light smile on his face as he looked up at me.

"I'm right here. Oh, my god, I'm so sorry. I tried to get here as fast as I could." I said the panic clear in my voice and making me talk faster then normal.

"Don't be sorry. There's no pain." He said as he brushed some hair out of my face still smiling even though his chest is bleeding out. The door opened showing some paramedics as they ran in to help Seonghwa.

"You don't have to be brave." I told him still crying, thankfully the paramedics didn't move me away letting me stay by his side which I was thankful for.

"I'm not, honey, I'm in shock. I don't feel any pain." He said, they moved him on to a stretcher as I stood up ready to follow them to the hospital.

"Oh, god! Guys, it doesn't mean I didn't feel that." Seonghwa said as they lifted the stretcher up to wheel him out. He held up his hand forbthem to stop.

"Dude, wait. Sorry about our date." Seonghwa said as he held out his hand for me to take, I smiled at him shaking my head at him.

"Shh, it's ok." I told him hopefully reassuring him as I placed my hand down to my stomach in a protective manner.

"Rain check-- " he asked then looked down at my hand, his eyes widening as realisation hit him, a bright joyful smile grow on his face.

"Yes, yes. I'll hold you to that" I said nodding to both the date and confirming that I was indeed pregnant, I could see the start of tears running down his face, as he set me off again.

"We gotta go." one of the paramedics said to me I nodded at them as they rushed off me following quickly behind as we reached outside, they got in to the ambulance while I got in my car to drive off to the hospital.

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I had been sitting in the waiting room for god knows how long, the others sat with me, Wooyoung on my left holding my hand and Yunho on my right rubbing my back, San, Mingi and Yeosang stood leaning against the wall.

Hongjoong paced back and forth I lost count after one hundred, Jongho then came around the corner holding cup holders with three drinks in them.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so I got you hot chocolate, tea and coffee. " Jongho said passing them to me, I smiled sweetly at him.

"You're sweet." I said, by the sound of my voice I sounded tired and I really was I grabbed the tea one and took a sip hopefully waking me up a little.

"Hey, I'll put it down here. " Yunho said grabbing the other two and placing them down on the floor, Wooyoung and Mingi both whinging about Jongho not getting anyone else anything, and how disrespectful that was.

"So any news?" Jongho asked ignoring the two supposedly older guys as he looked between Hongjoong and myself.

"He was supposed to be out of surgery 40 minutes agos." Hongjoong said as he stopped pacing for once in the hour maybe two that we had been here.

"Park?" A nurse asked as she walked over to us, the others stopped looking over at her, I stood up walking over to her. "Yes?" I asked hoping and praying that Seonghwa was alright.

'Seonghwa's surgery was successful, and he's in stable condition." She said, relief washed over my body as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Oh, thank god." I said as I placed my hand to my heart leaning down as I started to cry again, Yunho being the first to come up and hug me.

"If you like, I can walk you down to the recovery area." She said, I nodded my head as I turned around to the others, they all smiled.

"We'll wait here." Hongjoong said as he but his hand on top of Jongho's shoulder and smiled at me that others all nodded as I walked off with the nurse.

"The damage was much less than we first thought. The bullet went straight through his armand just barely grazed his ribs." She explained as we walked to Seonghwa room.

"So he's going to be ok?" I asked as we got to the room, looking through the window seeing him asleep on the bed connected to a heart monitor.

"We'll be keeping an eye on him tonight. There's always the risk of infection, and especially with gunshot wounds we need to keep an eye out for embolisms. We'll have our best cardiologist watching him through the night." She said as she smiled at me then walked away from me off to finish her job.

"Has he woken up yet?" I asked the cardiologist who was standing next to the machine, he looked up a sad smile on his face.

"Just the once, after anesthesia." He told me, I nodded my eyes going back to Seonghwa, I started getting choked up seeing him laying there.

"Do you mind if I stay till he wakes again?" I asked looking over to him, he nodded saying it was alright. "Thank you." I said as I sat down in the chair by Seonghwa's bed.

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I felt something next to me as I opened my eyes, releasing that I must of falling asleep. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes as I slowly turned around and to my surprise Seonghwa was staring at me.

"You're more beautiful every time I see you." He said, Seonghwa face was all I saw as I slowly smiled at him.

"You're awake. I love you." I told him as I leaned forward but he leaned back, he looked upset, I frowned at him not knowing what was happening.

"Yn, there's a thing that happened, um... Uh, that's called an embolism. It's a technical term, and you don't need to know about it." He said, I quickly stopped him, "Let me go get you a doctor." I said about to get up but he stops me.

"No, please, just look at me, right here. Please, look at me right now. Look, look at me right here. I want you to remember me this way, please." He said I got so confused at what he was saying as I sat there staring at him.

"Code blue. Code blue, room 238. Code blue." The alarm went off I stood up seeing that Seonghwa was still in the bed, his heart stopped.

"I will always love you, Yn." Seonghwa voice said I turned around as my eyes started tearing up, I couldn't see him was that his spirit?

"No!" I Yelled as some nurses and Doctors came running in to the room, I was pulled back by San as the others stood around me holding me.

"Always." Was all I heard as the Doctors and nurses tried to resuscitate him, I started sobbing not believe he was gone.

"Not you! Please, not you! Please, not you! Please, not you!" I sceamed as I fell to the floor, some of the guys knelt down along with me as I cried harder after hearing the final words, "He's gone. Time of death? 05:44am".

And they were right, Seonghwa heart stopped as I felt my body go numb from the loss, I'll never see him again, I'll never hug him again or kiss him. And he will never see our child, The guys help puck me up off the floor walking me out of Seonghwa's room.

#ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader

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