#this might be my favorite area in the series now

[ophernelia]

it's a foggy and rain-filled morning on the new redwater compound.

#welcome to little redwater :) #the name is inspired by steven universe future and the little homeworld #this might be my favorite area in the series now #sneak peek #lykaia

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

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

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

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

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s the issue then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just don’t understand.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where do you fucking start?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You love him.

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

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

He smiles against your skin.

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

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

“Everyone is staring at us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But is this really any better? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There you are. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

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

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

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

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

“Osamu.”

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

Hm.

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

Interesting.

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

Osamu,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

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

“Dazai.”

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

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

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

“May I have this dance?” 

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

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

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

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

“Speak.”

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

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

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

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

Who are you, Dazai?

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

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

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

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

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

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren’t so sure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

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

[vurelly]

Hi! I got sent over here by Bamsara to ask your opinions on a good starter/durable drawing tablet! Honestly probably woulda come over here anyways ‘cause I follow you both!

yEAAAAAAAAAAS I got so many starter tablets under my belt. (Note, these are all pen tablets, not DISPLAY tablets so if you'd like any info on those I'd be happy to help!)

I personally started with a Wacom Intuos (kept it for about 12 years before I threw it), and honestly there's a lot of positives and negatives with it. On the upside, it is ASTOUNDINGLY durable, it's a great size for transportation, and Wacom is a well-known and otherwise trustworthy brand. On the downside, Wacom has been notorious for not updating drivers on older products, the pen pressure leaves a lot to be desired, and Wacom's pricing is usually on the upper end.

A good follow-up for a similar price is the Huion HS610 series, it's also one of my personal favorites. It's got quite a larger capture area than the Intuos, they're extremely lightweight, the drivers update frequently (even for out of date models), the pen pressure is utterly divine, and the amount of accessories included makes up for the slightly steeper price. On the downside, because of it's larger size, it is a bit more difficult to travel with, but if you draw primarily from home it's a very good fit.

And if neither of these brands do it for you, the XP-Pen's 01 V2 might be a good fit (and on sale for $47.99 right now!). While I haven't personally owned this one, it was one I did quite a bit of research on when looking for a replacement when my Intuos started giving me trouble a while back. The Deco series comes in multiple sizes, colors, and wired/wireless settings (look for the series on the website, I've only linked the 01 V2), they come with multiple accessories and adapters for both PC and mobile phone use, the pen pressure has been relatively well reviewed, and the price beats out both Wacom and Huion. Unfortunately, because I haven't personally owned this one I can't speak on the drawbacks of the tablet, but from what I see they're a well reviewed brand overall.

Hope this helps!

#vu asks #long post

[fangirl-dot-com]

Logan Sargeant - London Boy

Welcome to the “Besties for the Resties” series, the backstories to the reader’s friendship with the other drivers. Now, I won’t be doing a single chapter all of them because that’s a lot, so some of them will have a joined chapter. You can’t please everyone, but for the sake of the storyline, there needs to be a few chapters as to how you became good friends with the grid! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment! 

PA - I also did the head cannons before I wrote these so they might not exactly match, so I apologize!

It had been a few weeks since the winter break started. Which meant it was time to hunt for apartments across the world. Well, in two countries. 

Max and Christian had been able to convince you to find a small place in Monaco so that you wouldn’t be too alone all the time. It was nice and comfortable. Way better than the one you had in Nice. That apartment had never felt like home to you. It was just a place to sleep whenever you had to go to Dams for testing. 

Arthur was thrilled when he also heard the news. You strategically had found a place that was in between Max’s place and where Arthur lived. The area was clean and a few cafés littered the shops around you. You knew that you’d spend most of your time there when you were there. 

But right now, you were back in London, trying to find a flat for when you needed to do team testing. As of right now, there were two more places that you needed to look and you wished that one of them would be perfect for you. 

However, as you were walking, your nose picked up on an amazing scent. Turns out, there was a Starbucks around the corner and you were in desperate need of some coffee. You pulled your jacket closer to your chest as you entered the store. You were immediately hit with the smell of coffee beans and pastry items. You stood in line in front of a tall blond. But your ears must have been tricking you because you definitely heard a familiar American accent. 

The barista asked for his name. 

“It’s Logan.” 

You let out a quick gasp as he turned to the left to go wait for his coffee. You took a step and ordered your favorite drink and a chocolate croissant. When the barista asked for your name, you told her a little quietly. You glanced over as you paid, eyes on where Logan stood. You shuffled over after you paid. 

Not drawing attention to yourself, you stood a little behind him. You had the most amazing plan. 

You tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Sir, can you tell me what a kilometer is?” Before he recognized it was you, he stiffened and thought the worst, a fangirl had found him. 

But as he turned to answer, his eyes lit up at the sight of you. 

“You are ridiculous.” He brought you in for a hug. You squeezed him tight before he let go. “What are you doing here?” 

“I am trying to find an apartment, but I needed coffee before I went to the next one,” you said as you grabbed a straw. 

Logan laughed before grabbing his coffee that had been set on the counter as the two of you talked. “How long are you here for?” 

“Just until I find somewhere to stay. Pre-season testing doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I need it by then. Nice is too far and my apartment in Monaco won’t be ready until later.” He nodded as you went ahead and grabbed your drink, pushing the straw into it. 

Logan took a sip of his drink. “You have any other plans for tonight?” You shook your head and that got him thinking. “Ok hear me out. I will go with you to the two other flats for you to look at, and then we need to go get pizza or something. And we still have a movie to finish.” 

Your eyes sparkled at the mention of pizza. You were a bit hesitant to accept. But, Max’s voice echoed in your head. “Kid. You need to get out of your comfort zone. The drivers aren’t bad and they’ll love you as much as I do.” He was right, and you found yourself admitting that too often. 

“Sure! We can get going if you’d like to. Or did you want to stay here for a little bit?”

Logan hadn’t planned on staying anyway, so the two of you made your way to the first destination. 

It’s safe to say that you would not be bidding on this one. It was too far from where you needed to be and the area was sketchy, Logan was glad that he was with you. He’s sure if you told Max where you had been alone, he would have flipped. The staircase was practically falling apart and the door lock was broken. The windows were old and the house smelled like a smoker had lived there before. The bedrooms were too small, same as the bathrooms. You and Logan hightailed it out of there before the landlord even had time to speak with you. 

On your way to the next one, Logan began to see some familiar sights. “Hey, can I see the address real fast?” his accent was a nice contrast. 

“Sure!” You handed him your phone as you looked around for a trashcan. Logan’s laugh brought you attention back to him. “What’s up?” 

He gave you your phone back. “It’s just that, the apartment you’re going to look at is right next to mine.” 

You gawked at him. “No flipping way!” 

“The building is nice, much nicer than the last one. I know the way back.” You turned off your navigation and followed the blond. You could definitely see that the area continually got nicer the closer you got. The streets were getting a little more crowded and you found yourself clinging to Logan’s sweatshirt. You felt like a child and probably looked like one too. 

When you got to the building, you were amazed at the size. It was much cleaner than the last one. The landlord was able to give you and Logan a tour of the place. Logan gave some good feedback, since he swore that his flat was the same exact layout. 

You could definitely see yourself living here. You quickly gave the landlord your price and you walked out the door as a new owner of a London flat. 

When the man left, Logan looked over at you with a mischievous smirk. “Celebratory pizza?” 

“You bet!” You were thankful that you found Logan or you think you’d still be flat hunting by now. 

The bright light of the sign illuminated the darkening street. It seemed like the owners new Logan pretty well as they greeted him by name. They stopped and asked you a bit about yourself and to see if you’d be hanging around. When you said yes, they seemed ecstatic and it made you wonder how little business they got. 

The pizza was to die for. At first, they didn’t have your favorite pizza, but Logan was quick to order you something that he’d think that you’d like. And he was absolutely correct. You ate the pizza very quickly. 

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves walking around. 

“How are you liking the city?” Logan spoke up first. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve really had the chance to get to see it. The only other time I’ve been here was for testing before Vegas. So, yeah.” You took a breath. “It’s nice though.” 

Logan looked around at all the lights, “It gets really pretty around this time. I don’t like it when it rains all the time.” 

You looked up at him, brows furrowed, “Aren’t you from Florida? Doesn’t it rain like every single day?” Logan let out a big laugh. 

He licked his lips before responding, “Yeah it does. It’s a different rain. It’s more humid. The rain here is cold and just clings to you.” 

After walking around for a bit, Logan invited you back to his apartment. When you walked, in you were thinking that it would be like a typical male domain. Something like a Mojo Dojo Casa House. 

But you were presently surprised with how nice it was on the inside. You whistled as you looked around at the interior. “Damn Logan. Did your mother decorate for you.” 

You heard a groan from behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan looking at you with hands on his hips. 

“For your information,” there was the white valley girl, “I did this all by myself.” 

“Which translates to ‘my mom picked everything out and you just put it all up’.” Logan pouted. 

“Oscar helped as well.” 

“Ah, that makes more sense.” 

“Y/n!” You laughed and continued walking around the apartment. Your eye caught a small picture hanging on the way. 

“Logan? Can I see this one?” You pointed at it, but couldn’t reach it. 

He quickly came over and took it off the nail and handed it to you. Your fingers glided over the image. It had perfectly captured Logan, and then the boy on the other side must have been Oscar. But what surprised you was that you were also in this picture. 

Logan must have seen your longing glance. “Yeah, my mom took that for me and Oscar. It was the first time the two of us had podiumed together. Oscar would have been first but…” 

You cut him off, “I overtook him on the last lap.” 

Logan’s eyes bulged and he yanked the frame out of your hands. He brought it close to his face, a little too close to really see anything but he was dramatizing it. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. 

He brought the frame back down and looked at you. “I didn’t know that was you!” 

“Yeah. I’ll tell Oscar sorry for taking his win.” 

Logan looked at you as though you had grown three heads. “Excuse me! Oscar could not shut up about how cool the overtake was. And how much cooler it seemed because you were the only girl.” 

You looked up at him with a surprised look, but Logan continued. 

“Yeah. I actually don’t remember much of it. I was shaking so much and couldn’t concentrate. I almost dropped my trophy.” He looked over at you. You looked back up at the other pictures and sighed. 

“I lost my godfather the afternoon before the race.” 

Logan went quiet, silently wanting you to continue. 

“I needed to win for him. That race I also debuted with the number 89. It was his number when he did karting. I felt like I owed him a win.” 

Logan placed the picture back on the nail and brought you in for a hug. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you backed up. Logan looked at you with a sad smile. You looked back up at the picture. 

“Do you think your mom could print me one out?” 

Logan ruffled your hair. “Sure! I’ll have her send it to me and I can just do it.” 

“Thanks Logan.” 

“Are you ready to watch a movie?” 

“Can we finish Cars 2?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

After that night, you and Logan seemed to be closer. You were still quiet with the rest of the grid, but Max and Logan knew how to bring you out of your shell. 

Your debut race was a big one, and everywhere you turned a microphone was pushed into your hands and you were finagled in front of a camera. This is where you found yourself 85% of the time that day. 

“Hi Y/n, how are you doing today?” You had the urge to roll your eyes. These journalists should have been able to come up with different questions. But you didn’t or Riggs would have an aneurism. 

“I’m good! A little overwhelmed but that’s expected.” 

The reporter continued, “How was your break? We saw that you posted pictures of your new places on Instagram, why don’t you tell us a bit about those.” 

You smiled, now that was a question you hadn’t heard yet. “I love my new places. Max had been pressuring me to get a small place in Monaco so that he could quote-on-quote look after me. I think he would just miss me too much.” The reporter laughed and so did you. 

You kept going, “And then I was able to find a small place in London for when I have to go for sim training and what-not. I like it a lot.” 

“We loved your pictures from London. Seemed like you and Logan Sargeant were having a good time.” 

“Oh yeah, speaking of which,” you trailed off as you spotted Logan. You brought the microphone with you as you walked up to the blond. You pulled his sleeve and dragged him back with you. 

“Uh hello to you to?” he questioned with a laugh. 

“I was about to talk about our time in London.” Logan’s eyes lit up. 

He all but whispered, “You didn’t tell them.” You now rolled your eyes. 

“I haven’t had time yet.” You looked at the camera, “We’re neighbors!” 

“Yeah, I’ve had to deal with seeing this child all the time.” You gaped up at him. Whack. Logan didn’t even flinch. “See what I’ve had to deal with?” He pointed at you.  

The reporter’s eyebrows raised at your bickering. They interrupted, “How did you two find out that you were neighbors?” 

You shushed Logan, “I was apartment hunting and I needed some coffee and found him at Starbucks. And then we went and looked at a different one first.” 

Logan leaned into the microphone, “It was sketchy as heck. I’m glad I went with her.”

“And then I gave him the address to the second one and he was all like ‘dude, that’s my address’,” you mimicked his accent. It was his turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah and then we got pizza and finished Cars 2.” You heard a gasp behind the two of you. When you turned around, you were met with an Aussie look of betrayal. 

“You finished Cars 2? With me?” He put his hand to his heart as if he was shot. You shot him a sheepish smile. 

Logan looked at his best friend, “You weren’t there mate” 

You looked at Oscar. “I promise we will finish it with you at some point. Maybe during the next red flag?” Oscar nodded and then was on his way. 

You noticed that you had taken a lot of this reporter’s time and were quick to wrap things up. 

“Final question. What is your favorite part about London, now that you’ve lived there for a while?” 

You glanced up at Logan. “Well you know what Mother Swift says. You gotta love a London Boy.” You winked at the camera.  

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#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x driver!reader #max verstappen x reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #formula 1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #fernando alonso x reader #daniel riccardo x reader

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 2

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

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

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

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys fanfic #soldier boy #the boys amazon #jensen #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #jensen ackles #the boys series #the boys season 3

[kalisburnerphone]

Amazing // Choi Seungcheol

Summary: Seungcheol doesn’t understand why she won’t let him take care of her when it’s all he wants to do. He has no idea how she found out about what he’s been doing every month for the past six months but he’s sure he can get her to agree with his logic.

Warnings: Idol!Seungcheol x OC!Solana, kinda one-sided situationship, a tiny bit suggestive,Seungcheol on his glucose guardian agenda, curve/plus-sized, foreigner!oc, Seungcheol calls her Sol, princess. I think that’s about it, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: This is part of an idolverse series that’ll be posted in non-chronological order. I’m not sure how many parts members will have but there might be instances of crossovers.Mingyu, Seungcheol and Minghao are the only ones that I have anything written/plotted for. I’m not promising frequent updates because I’m currently on an intensive training program before starting grad school but I have some free time starting Thursday so I’ll try to work on pieces during that time. I only just got back into posting my work in the kpop community after a break from it but I do enjoy anime as well so you may come across it on my dashboard. Lastly, I am absolute trash when it comes to titles and summaries so please bare with me in advance.

Solana and Seungcheol rarely argued and if they did, it was usually about the same thing; Seungcheol spending his money on her like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do. And in his mind, it was. Seungcheol understood that she was more than capable of providing for and taking care of herself but he felt as though she shouldn’t have to with him around.

They’d met before he’d even acquired the amount of money he had today so he knew for a fact that it wasn’t why she was with him which is exactly why he spent it on her. Seungcheol in most instances believed that actions spoke louder than words and if he felt like buying his girlfriend’s entire shopping cart on her favorite jewelry site than that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Usually Sol wouldn’t say anything because no matter how much she told him not to, he’d find a way to justify his actions and just do it once again. This time however, she refused to let him.

“Yah!! Choi Seungcheol!” She exclaimed as she entered her apartment. His head pops out from the kitchen where he’d been peeling tangerines when he hears her.

“What’d I do?” She only ever called him by his government name when she angry or irritated with him.

“Y’know what you did! I thought we agreed that you’d ease up on excessive amounts of spending that you do on me?”

“We did, I haven’t spent excessively on you since the last time you gave me an earful for buying everything in your cart from The Jade Jewelers. What’s this about?” He asks tangerines forgotten as he follows her to the living room area, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at her rummaging through her bag before pulling out a small pile of paper.

“You’re really going to play dumb with me right now? You haven’t been spending excessively? Then explain this.” She spits out pressing the printed sheets to his chest.

Seungcheol takes the papers from her hand, looking them over before ‘shit’ is whispered from his lips. “You weren’t supposed to find out about this.”

“Well, no shit Seungcheol. Explain yourself.” She snaps as she sits on the couch with her arms crossed and looking directly at him.

“How’d you find out?”

“That’s not important. I’ve been living here for six months and you’ve been paying my rent this entire time after I told you I didn’t like you spending excessively on me especially when it came to things that I’m capable of handling on my own.”

“I know you’re capable, I do, but just because you can do all these things for yourself doesn’t mean that you have to. I’m here and I’m willing, wanting to do these things for you but you won’t let me.Why can’t I do nice things for you?”

Because it makes this feel like it’s more than what it is. It’s what she wants to tell him because as much as Seungcheol acted like it wasn’t that big of a deal, it was to her. She’d constantly have to remind herself that they weren’t in a relationship. They hooked up whenever he had free time and him paying for her KTX ticket and accommodation in Seoul was as much as she said she’d allow him but Choi Seungcheol had a way of getting whatever he wanted.

“It’s not that you can’t do nice things for me, it’s just that you have a habit of behaving like a damn glucose guardian when it comes to expenses.”

“Okay, and? If I want to behave like your sugar daddy and pay and do everything for you then you should just let me. Think about it,” he says dropping in the space next to her wasting no time in pulling her onto his lap.

“I cover all your basic expenses and necessities and all you have to do is sit pretty and get that degree. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

“No. Now either fix it or I’m transferring the money to your account.”

“I’ll send it right back. Play with me if you want to.” He smirks at her.

“God, you’re so infuriating.” She huffs getting off his lap and moving down the hall to her bedroom.”

“Yahhhh, we weren’t finished yet.” She can hear him pouting as he follows behind her.

“Yes, we are because you’re going to do it again regardless of what I say right now.” She responses slipping off her jacket.

“Sollllllll, are you really that upset about it?” When she doesn’t reply, he wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. “If I compromise with you, will you stop being upset with me and go back to calling me Cheol?”

“Does that compromise include you not paying all my bills?” She replies sarcastically.

“Watch it, princess. Don’t want that mouth getting you in trouble don’t you? I’ve already let you slide with the sass, don’t push it.” He speaks into her ear before lightly nipping at her neck.

“I’ll let you pay your phone bill and groceries but that’s it. Despite what you say I know you only moved out from the dorms this early because of me and to allow us more privacy. The least I can do is cover your rent and utilities, I can’t help it because that’s just who I am and you know this. Now, forgive me please?” 

Seungcheol asks spinning her around in his arms. She was just about an inch or two shorter than him so he didn’t have to do much to look her in the eyes. “I don’t want you mad at me on my last night before I leave.”

“Forgive me,” there’s a peck to her cheek followed by another until Seungcheol has pressed kisses all over her face and has her a giggling mess.

“Fine, fine,Cheolll.” She laughs trying to escape him but he’s not having it.

“I can’t hear you princess, what was that?” He teases as he grasps her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“I forgive you,” 

“And?” he encourages though he already knows that he’s gotten his way once again.

“I’ll let you take care of me even if it means putting my pride and independent nature aside and letting you pay my rent.” she sighs dramatically.

She’d never admit it but seeing Seungcheol be domestic had a tendency to do things to her. Things he’d never let her hear the end of if he knew. She’d seen a lot of different sides to Choi Seungcheol in the two years since they started all this but domesticated Seungcheol was her second favorite.

“Y’know what’s amazing?” He asks and she’s so busy staring at him that she misses the teasing lithe in his voice.

“Hmmm?” Her hands are draped over his shoulders, fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hands around her waist resting on the curve of her ass as he leans in closer to her ear.

“We both know that I have no problem getting your pussy wet but when are you finally going to admit that me being all domesticated and taking care of you gets you all hot and bothered the same way it does to me? Hmmm?”

The way her breath hitches is enough to let him know that he’s right but he doesn’t act on it.

“C’mon, I cut fruit and we have new episodes to finish.” He says kissing her cheek as he leaves her standing in the bedroom like he didn’t just read her for filth. It takes a few seconds for her to recover but once she does she’s following behind him.

“Yah! Choi Seungcheol!”

#svt x oc #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #svt #svt seungcheol #scoups smut #scoups #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #svt cheol #seventeen smut #seventeen x oc #Choi Seungcheol x OC

[kedsandtubesocks]

your favorite kryptonite

Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

summary: you think it should be illegal for someone this hot to work at your favorite comics & fandom shop

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. non canon AU. Dieter as a big fandom nerd (affectionate), brief one sided annoyance to lovers, mentions and discussions of various medias including marvel, video games & anime/manga, light use of gendered language, moment of harassment from a creep, Dieter cosplaying surprise, spicy themes, reader wears Dieter’s robe but no physical description is mentioned, light drug use (marijuana), silly chaotic but sweet!Dieter

word count: 4.3k

a/n: So I’m back with another wacky AU LOL this is my love letter to all things wonderfully nerdy & to nerd Dieter who in my heart i believe is totally a Kakashi and Goku fanboy lol the biggest thanks go out to @perotovar & @burntheedges who helped championed this and gave me the power up strength to continue, so grateful for y’all babes! And to you reading this thank you so much ♡

The new mecha anime figurines immediately draw your attention. Their sharp beautiful sleek designs stand impressively and although you might not be a huge fan you admire the striking style.

You’ve been coming to Atomic Planet Shop since your best friend dragged you here in high school years ago. Containing a wide range of things like a whole area to flip through comics, to a wall of Japanese manga - it’s a nerd’s paradise.

Currently you search for a birthday gift to get your best friend and maybe snag a treat for youdelf.

“Oh, a fan of Gundam I see.” An eager and new voice calls from behind.

Turning back you discover someone slinking out from behind the register. Normally Raymond, the sweet older man who runs the store, would be here. But now someone new stands in his place and you’re stunned.

The guy emerging from behind the counter is gorgeous.

Scruffy beard, fluffy hair, wearing earrings and rings on his hand, he’s hot. The shirt he wears says “Wolverine Call Me” in a heart shape. His deep chocolate even eyes seem to dance curiously.

“Uh, just looking.” You politely reply.

“Whatcha looking for?”

You explain how you’re here looking for a birthday gift for your friend.

“Oh nice.” He nods appreciatively.

While you’re turned, giving this new worker your attrition, you finally notice the glass shelf behind the register.

Your eyes go wide fast at what you spot.

“Is that a new Stardew Valley cookbook?” You can’t even process the words, you’re still in awe at the sight. Precious little drawings fill the space to show familiar dishes, like pink cake and lucky lunch, from the game. It’s gorgeous and so unique.

“Oh hell yeah, you a fan?” The mystery man exclaims. “You know we have a whole little-”

“Video game section off to the side. Yeah.” You warmly cut him off.

Originally the store had been very comics and graphic novel focused. However over the years it’s evolved to add more fandom-like elements and now there’s even a small but impressive video game focused area.

A sweetly surprised look falls over the guy’s face and it paints him utterly charming.

“So who’s your go-to spouse in SDV?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

You tell him and he nods sagely.

“I always go for Krobus. Gotta respect our cute sewer dweller.” He says.

While you laugh a flutter scurries across your heart.

A ring at the door chimes in breaking your sweet conversation and a cluster of guys walk into the store.

“Guess I’ll get back to birthday gift hunting.” You smile at the cute worker then return to the comic stacks.

Flipping through the different series and passing through many fun options, you catch the conversation off to the side.

The pack of young guys that walked in seem to know the cute worker and snicker with him about something.

“Oh yeah man, so I was rewatching Endgame the other day and the part where Scarlet Witch goes one on one with Thanos? Unrealistic!” One of them cackles and you pause.

Did they not even see or know about how powerful she’s confirmed to be in the other MCU projects? Even then, in the comics Scarlet Witch flat out changes the trajectory of reality. If anything Thanos is only strong because he got lucky.

But you hold your tongue and continue scanning through the comics.

These guys are probably just punk ass kids. You don’t want to waste your energy on these guys who probably also hate on other characters like Shuri and Carol Danvers.

Now the cute store worker scoffs amused but doesn’t correct them. Your face scrunches up.

You thought he was charming, maybe a bit eccentric, like a 90’s vibrant Lisa Frank vibe. Yet now your skin crawls just a little bit thinking he might be one of those unfortunately toxic gatekeeping jackass guys.

You decide to leave now. You still had time to look for a birthday gift for your best friend. So you’ll just come back later. Without a second glance to the cute worker, you slip out and wonder about maybe checking out another store.

Of course, you’re too tired to actively look for another store. The next time you return to Atomic Planet, you pray Raymond is there.

You’re excited and almost relieved to see the familiar eccentric older man smiling toothy at you from behind the counter.

“Well, you’re a wonderful sight for sore eyes!” He greets you and happily you catch up and chat with him.

Suddenly a chaotic bang clamors in. The handsome worker from last time tumbles out from the back room into the front as if he tried to rush over.

“Dieter man, what’s the rush?” Raymond laughs.

Dieter. So that’s his name.

The guy, Dieter, this time wears a Naruto shirt under a sleepy and cozy green robe. His hair is still fluffy and you don’t miss how wide eyes stare at you.

“Hey.” You politely but curtly reply.

“Hi.” Dieter waves and you hate how cute he looks.

“By the annoyed look on your face, I take it you’ve met this new headache.” Raymond chuckles and embarrassment rams into you knowing your annoyance is that obvious.

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” Raymond waves. “He cries when he watches My Neighbor Totoro.”

“Hey what the fuck!” Dieter cries and you press your lips together trying not to laugh.

“Just ignore him, honey.” Raymond winks and you grin wide.

After thanking him, you head back to the birthday gift search. Searching now through the manga selection you notice something moves by the corner of your eye.

Turning to the side, a large Totoro plushie floats beside you obviously being held up.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” A high pitch tone acting as the adorable creature's voice speaks out and your lips twitch.

From the side Dieter pops his head out.

His hair, rivaling a bird's nest, creates a cloud around him and his wide doe-like eyes peeking out are so hard to be fully annoyed at.

“You know,” he now fully speaks in his voice, moving to hold the large adorable plushie in his arms. “Never got your name.”

“You have my full permission to beat his ass if you need to, dear.” Raymond yells dully from the cash register and Dieter squawks horrified.

You laugh bright. Turning to the side you see Dieter already holds his hand out. The half crooked grin on his face paints him so boyish.

“Name’s Dieter.”

You shake his hand, finally giving him your name.

“So, do you really think Scarlet Witch can’t take on Thanos?” You offer light.

Dieter sighs loud. “I knew those guys and what we were talking about might’ve pissed you off.”

So he was watching you. That brings in a curious warmth that courses through you.

“Well I do apologize.” He bows his head a bit. You at least appreciate that.

“I bet those guys are the same ones that don’t like Carol Danvers either or even know that Squirrel Girl defeated Thanos.” You add a bit snippy.

“You know your shit, I like that.” Dieter replies proud and the way his voice drips out smooth does something dangerous to your heart.

You shrug but fight off the smug grin threatening to mirror his.

“Maybe you need to go Gandalf on my ass and teach me a thing or two, like maybe over coffee?” Dieter offers and you’re knocked out.

So he feels this spark, chemistry or whatever it is, between you too.

“Maybe,” you reply back with a grin. “For now I gotta get back to gift shopping.”

“You still haven’t found your friend a gift?! Geeze, what kind of bestie are you?!” He cries out teasing and you roll your eyes.

It’s getting harder staying annoyed with him and not taking up his offer to get coffee.

You eventually decide on a comic art book for your friend and then spot the assorted mystery box trinkets to maybe snag a few for her and even for yourself.

“I know everyone says Goku would beat the fuck out of Thanos, but you know who else would too without breaking a sweat?” Dieter’s voice again arrives at your side. He’s rather persistent, your cute, slightly not so annoying gnat.

“Sailor Moon.” He answers himself sagely.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You snicker amused.

He practically beams besides you when you agree.

You ask if he’s a fan.

“Oh hell yeah! Sailor Venus is my fav.” Dieter cries. “I can sing the entire song theme opening for you if you’d like. Not to brag, but that and the second Naruto theme opening are my go to karaoke songs.”

You laugh, feeling it deep into your bones. He’s chaotic, but unbearably endearing.

In a blink, a rush comes in all at once. The fun sweet bubble you had been cultivating deflates and you hate how disappointed you get seeing Dieter scramble to try and work.

When you go check out, you’re surprised he’s the one at your register.

Even though he’s focused on working you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up to you shyly but with a confident smirk. He turns to fully gift wrap the items knowing they’re going to be a present and you thank him for that.

When you grab your bag he gives you a smooth wink and you playfully glare at him.

Later at home, when you unpack everything, you find an extra surprise in the bag.

It’s a small box of strawberry pocky snacks you know you didn’t buy.

There’s a sticky note attached to it.

A sweet treat for a sweet customer! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ♡)

Call me if you ever wanna get coffee or just talk nerd shit and make me absolutely fall even harder for you

Underneath the message, he left you his number and you can’t believe it. After squealing about it with a few of your friends, you text him.

Dieter replies back quick with the funniest excited cat reaction meme and you realize you might be in the best kind of trouble with this guy.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

You didn’t expect the convention to be this crowded. Chatter fills the air as cosplayers move all around.

The booths stretch endless with countless tempting merch.

Your best friend tried to get you to plan a fun cosplay with her. However neither you or her could decide on what to pick in time. Now you're gladly comfortable in an everyday outfit and simply allow yourself to be in awe at the intricate lovely costumes.

While scanning the convention and taking in the beautifully controlled chaos in, you also hope to catch sight of someone in particular.

“Dude, stop trying to look for your hot nerd boyfriend.” Your best friend snorts and your heart trips over itself.

Embarrassed, you chide her and remind her that Dieter isn’t your boyfriend.

“Oh yeah because texting a guy everyday for the past month and going to cute cat cafes with him isn't dating.” She deadpans with a smirk.

You playfully glare at her.

It’s not official and you don’t want to rush whatever this is with Dieter. You haven’t even been to his place yet. You don’t mind though. You’ve just been enjoying getting to know him more.

You learn Dieter’s favorite video game is Hollow Knight and his favorite anime is Neon Genesis Evangelion.

His favorite comic book villain of all time is the Condiment King.

Matcha flavored Kit Kats have become his newest obsession session.

He saw all the Lord of the Rings movies in theater and can practically quote The Two Towers. Still has the comic book his best friend in middle school gave to him. Also refuses to let any of his Animal Crossing villagers leave because he’s so attached to them.

Dieter had made you laugh more than you can count, but he can be a bit ridiculous.

Like when he called you after he got off a late closing night shift to ask if Pacific Rim was real did you think the Kaiju monsters would maybe stop attacking if they found out how much he loves them.

Dieter does have his headache moments, but he’s an endearing kaleidoscope of a soul.

Earlier this week when you visited him at the shop, he said he was going to be here at the conversation. But with how bad the convention center’s wifi is, you haven’t been able to contact him.

“He even said he was coming in cosplay just for today right? Any ideas what he’s showing up as?” Your best friend wiggles her eyes while you and her stroll down an artist alley.

“No!” You huff still upset. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

While you appreciate him wanting to wait for a dramatic reveal, you wanted to know what his outfit was from the minute he told you.

You wanted to maybe try dedicatedly searching for him, but you get completely enthralled by the mass amounts of merchandise delightfully distracting you.

You spot incredible fan art pieces, adorable handmade keychains, and very expensive but beautiful figurines.

It’s like a mini wonderland.

Checking out the cute earrings at the stall you’re at, you lose sight of your best friend. When you turn to excitedly talk with her, that’s when you spot it.

She’s a few steps away, very politely trying to inch away from a guy, dressed in a Deadpool suit without the mask on. He’s talking way too aggressively and getting way too close to your friend.

Immediately you rush over and happily jump in.

“I gotta show you this!” You thankfully have the best excuse to pull her away.

But the guy only takes it as an opening to instead follow you both now.

“Just ignore him.” Your best friend whispers to you.

You and her continue to stare at the jewelry. Yet the guy remains. He continues his discussion and seems to get upset that you or your friend aren’t replying. It’s creepy and persistent especially with how he refuses to budge or take the hint.

You try lightly deflating the situation by apologizing and saying you and your friend just want to enjoy shopping.

“Oh, is shopping all you two came here for? You know, you fucking losers aren’t even in cosplay. Fake ass fans.”

Now he gets really aggressive.

The air and tension shift. The poor cute shop owner in her adorable R2D2 dress even reacts getting upset.

“Look, we just wanna enjoy the con.” Your best friend replies sharp with a hard scowl.

“What in the fantastic fuck do we have here?”

Suddenly Dieter’s voice rings out excited and bright and you almost sob.

You whip your face around to spot him.

Except it is and isn’t him.

His hair is slicked back, gelled and curled. Thick gray colored hairs line his temples. It even looks like he shaved a bit.

He’s dressed as Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic himself.

The outfit looks based on the classic 1960’s first comic book released aesthetic and it compliments Dieter’s frame gorgeously. His shoulders look unbelievably broad and his even arms seemed bigger in the tight soft baby blue material. You’ve never seen him in something so form fitting and it has your throat drying up.

You’ve even momentarily forgotten about the guy bothering you and your best friend.

“You bothering these two, ya fucking creep?” Dieter says with a nudge of his chin.

It’s hot as fuck.

The guy stunned gapes like a fish and stammers, but no words come out.

“Beat it before I shove a lightsaber up your ass.” Dieter replies bored, but it adds a sense of deadliness to his words.

The Deadpool cosplayer turns on his heels and immediately scrambles away. Your knees almost buckle overwhelmed.

Your best friend and even the stall owner cry out wildly excited in a bright neon awe of Dieter. You swallow back a sob as you turn to embrace him. His warm large hands pat you comfortingly.

“You saved us.” You teasingly sob, but truthfully you know he did.

“I’d been looking for you for a hot minute and was about to make some sort of raptor call noise to get your attention until I saw that shit going down.” Dieter explains.

“What a hero.” Your friend jokingly adds, but you hear it in her voice how grateful she is.

Dieter snickers.

“Guess you could almost say I was fantastic… mister fantast-”

You cut Dieter off with a quick kiss to his cheek before he can make the pun and your friend along with the stall owner laugh.

Gingerly, almost tentatively you move to intertwine your hand with his. He reacts immediately pulling you to his side.

For the rest of the convention Dieter stays besides you, walking hand in hand with you.

Even when you arrive at the booth for Atomic Planet, the real reason why Dieter was here to help work, Raymond waves him away saying to enjoy the convention with you.

Your heart flutters and Dieter squeezes your hand excitedly.

The rest of the time is a blissful geeked out dream. Dieter buys you a few keychains, even treats you and your best friend to a bite to eat.

You came to the convention with your best friend…

But you leave with Dieter.

Especially when your best friend urges you to go home with him and enjoy his hot cosplay.

You give her a look when she cheekily tells you that, but she isn’t wrong. Even when you grabbed the quick bite before the night ended, it was hard trying to ignore the amount of people turning to stare at Dieter with wide curious eyes.

And a little twinge of something faintly possessive bubbles in you.

That’s why when you slide into the passenger seat of his car, your heart drums loudly in your ears trying to fight against the urge to just suck his cock right here in the car.

“So uh…” Dieter begins cautiously and even a bit bashfully. “I don’t wanna sound too aggressive and you can tell me no, but can I kiss you-”

You don’t even let him finish before you’re sliding over the seat to him.

He scrambles and immediately pulls you close as his lips become a magnet to yours.

This is the first time you’re really truly kissing Dieter. You’ve kissed him gently good night before. He’s been cute with leaving kisses to your cheek or even against the back of your head like a Victorian gentleman. But now it’s a raw unraveling getting to tasting him from the source so greedy.

You won’t dare admit it outloud, but the soft feel of his lips, the scrape of his jaw, the smell of his delicious cologne, and how warm he consumes you -

It’s pretty fantastic.

— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—

Dieter’s room is a treasure trove.

Framed posters of Pacific Rim, AKIRA, The Iron Giant, and the original Pokemon Kanto generation line the walls. His bookshelf is filled not just with comic books and manga, but various impressive graphic novels.

A mock infinity gauntlet sits beside his television. So many anime figurines, including a really nice Goku one, stand protecting his reading collection.

What surprises you is his expansive and sleek gaming corner which includes a striking computer set up.

“You look hot as fuck standing in my robe and knowing I just came in you a few hours ago is even hotter.” Dieter says from his bed in the most sinful but half groggily asleep voice.

You smirk and continue to soak in his room.

“So do you get good discounts from the store?” You ask.

“Yeah, but it also helps that I co-own it.” Dieter casually tells you. You hear him shifting among the seats then catch the flicker of the lighter igniting.

However your eyes go wide realizing what he said and you whip back around to him.

“Wait?! You co-own the shop?”

“Well yeah, Raymond, that old fuck, is my uncle.” Dieter coughs out as he exhales from the hit he took off his weed pipe.

Dieter even explains how, because his uncle is starting to get a bit older, he decided to step in to help run the place.

“Besides, how else could I show off my extensive knowledge of elvish language other than at the shop?” He says proudly.

How did you just now learn this?

Dieter reminds you of a rubik cube you think you’ve finally figured out, think you found a groove for - until one out of the corners a jack in the box pops out.

Before you can even ask him about the shop or about his uncle, Dieter’s phone goes off.

The loud ringtone sings into the room and your eyes go wide hearing it. Dieter checks who’s calling then denies the call muttering out about how spam scam callers need to be fed to a sarlacc pit.

“Wait…is Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ actually your ringtone?” You ask, still not believing it.

“Fuck yeah it is, baby! That song is untouchable!” He cries and you can’t help but laugh.

Dieter smirks then pats the open spot on the bed where you had been resting before. Sliding back into the warmth with him, he gently pulls your face to him and kisses you softly.

The taste of the smoke lingers on his lips, but it’s still him beneath it all. You eventually wind up in his arms, cozy and warm in his embrace.

“I noticed the nice audio and mic setup.” You comment while his fingers draw aimlessly against your skin. “You trying to maybe go the YouTuber route?”

“Nah. Maybe. Who knows.” He shrugs. “It’s mainly for something else.”

Now his voice grows a bit distant.

You gently ask him what that something else is and Dieter fidgets

“Don’t… don’t laugh okay.” He mumbles adorably.

You reassure him earnestly you won’t.

He sighs.

“So I’ve been wanting to get into voice acting work.” Dieter reveals with a mutter, even sounding a bit embarrassed

However, you perk up so bright. Turning in his arms you eagerly smile at him.

“Di, that sounds amazing!” You mean those words.

You can’t help but ramble about how great he would be for that. He has the personality for it and he’s told you how he’s done some stage acting work. Plus, it just fits him. You think of all the silly voices he does and you hope now he can make this path a reality.

Dieter’s handsome face falls a bit and you stop. You wonder if you’ve scared him off, or maybe he thinks you’re possibly making fun of him.

You’re about to apologize when Dieter swiftly moves to kiss you feral and fierce. His tongue slides into your mouth with a moan you greedily swallow.

The conversation is put on pause when his hands slide up your thighs, straight to your core, and you fall apart with him once again.

Basking in the afterglow you rest against his chest now feeling sleepy, not even knowing what time it is. You realize being with Dieter is like existing in a realm a bit separated from reality sometimes and it’s beautiful.

“I don’t wanna be that lame guy,” Dieter begins. “But shit, I already really really kind of like you a fucking lot.”

Your lips fight back a smile you can’t beat. You turn to bury your face against his warm bared chest.

“I really kinda like you a lot too.” You admit.

“That’s unfortunate.” He replies and you snort.

“It’s okay. I only want the good discount on merch at the shop.” You reply cheekily.

“Aw! You don’t even want me for my body? Just my discount?!” He cries hurt and even jokingly moves to shove you off.

“Well.” Then he pauses. “Guess I could call my dick a discount, but then again… there isn’t anything short about that-”

You cut him off with an eye roll and he snickers wildly amused.

His fingers move to tickle you, to corrupt you into his same fit of giggles and you wheezing trying to squirm away from him.

Dieter’s hands eventually snake around you and draw you back into his chest. You melt against him willingly and even sigh comforted.

“Next time if we go to a convention, if you feel comfortable with it, you should cosplay.” He comments.

You admit that you’ve thought about it and list a few ideas you’ve had. But mainly, your mind thinks about the different outfits Dieter could go as.

The thought of him now as Doctor Doom instead of the heroic Reed Richards is a glorious thought.

But of course there’s so many other incredible options.

Dieter as Harvey or even Marlon from Stardew Valley.

Even a few anime characters that would fit him so well come to mind.

Specifically Kishibe from the series Chainsaw Man, with his striking cut across his mouth and incredibly lazy hot older demeanor, just fits Dieter so well it stirs something in you again.

“Maybe next con,” Dieter offers and pulls you from your thoughts. “I’m thinking about going as Tuxedo Mask. Do you wanna be my Sailor Moon?”

A couples matching outfit.

You didn’t even think of that. That’s what he was nudging towards.

You didn’t even think of that. But just getting to be beside him is something sweetly moving.

Then thinking about him in the sleek tuxedo outfit, in the white mask, is a dangerous thought you already ache to maybe see come true.

“We’ll see.” You hum with a smile, but when you go to kiss him it feels like a gilded warm promise.

“Never mind. I want us to go as Undertale characters and I wanna be Sans.” Dieter says suddenly and you snort against his shoulder.

This time spent with him, and the promise of maybe something more, is sweet starlit bliss.

#I blame this on wanting another anime tattoo so I’m sorry I’m here to spread the nerd Dieter agenda lol #comic bookstore owner!Dieter #nerd!Dieter #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #pedrostories

[staytinyville]

Stay Alive (17)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N BETA READER @seoul9711 (Thank you for Beta-ing!) As normally! I love all your expressions over the whole chapter. Keep them coming! I love you guys!

You had spent the rest of your day wandering around the facility in thought. Before you realized it, you had reached the garden area and found Yoongi sitting in the grass with his arms behind him. He was leaning back, sunglasses covering his eyes as he breathed deeply. 

His pale skin suddenly looked paler to you, a shiver going down your spine as you thought about his cold hands. 

“Yoongi?” You called softly, not wanting to startle him. He turned his head to look at you, acknowledging that you could approach. You walked closer, sitting down on your knees next to him. 

“Why are you using sunglasses indoors?” You laughed a little. 

“I dislike the light.” He pursed his lips and went back to leaning against his arms. 

You watched his neck stretch back, tilting your head to the side. The entry from Hobi’s journal left you baffled and bit on edge. You wanted to ask questions, you really did, but you knew if you pushed too much, they might not tell you anything. 

“Yes, you've told me.” You sighed. “But they are artificial light for the plants.” You glanced up, squinting at the glowing bulbs a hundred feet above.

“They are still UV light. It irritates my eyes.” Yoongi continued. 

Pursing your lips you began to think about all the myths involving vampires. They were sensitive to light, you knew this. Specifically they had some kind of issue with the sun and its rays. 

“So will you like—combust in the sun?” You asked. 

Yoongi looked at you with a deep set frown. “Where did you get that from: it irritates my eyes?” He questioned you. 

You felt a blush settle on your face, from how stupid you felt asking him those kinds of questions. “It just reminded me of like–the vampires from Twilight.” You shrugged. 

“They don't combust in the sun though?” Yoongi answered, raising an eyebrow. “They sparkle. Which is a load of bull.” He added. 

You suddenly got wary of how to go about asking him questions. There wasn’t really anything suspicious about knowing about vampires. You wanted to hear what excuse he would give. “What makes you say that?” You asked. 

“Sounds like they romanticized vampires.” The man shrugged, not giving you much else. 

“Wasn't that the point?” You raised a brow. You watched as his lips twitched, getting annoyed with the subject. 

“Yeah but now people think vampires are like these wickedly hot creatures who will love you for all eternity.” He rolled his eyes. “Absolutely stupid if you ask me.”

You purse your lips, keeping a giggle from escaping. Either he had read the books or watched the movie to make him think that way about on screen vampires. 

“I don't think you were the target audience.” You told him. 

“I personally think they could've done research.” He explained to you. 

“What? You know all about vampires?” You raised your eyebrows. 

Yoongi turned to you, glancing over your curious expression. His lips twitched, trying his hardest not to frown. You suddenly began to inquire too much about vampires and it was noticeable to him. You had been coming to see them for the past month and suddenly you noticed things out of the blue. It left him suspicious if you knew things already. 

“What if I do?” He raised a brow.

“Is that your favorite pastime? Reading about magical creatures?” You asked. He watched you turn around, trying to seem like you weren’t curious about the subject. “They don't exist. They're just myths.” You shrugged it off. 

“Are they now?” Yoongi turned to you fully, eyes glaring holes into the side of your head. You sucked in a breath, feeling his stare hit you deeply. At this point you knew he was suspicious of you. However you wanted to see what else he was willing to let go of. 

“You should still be scared of them.” He added. 

You quickly looked up at him, keeping eye contact. He licked his lips when he noticed you weren’t going to turn away from him. His head dropped down, daring you to challenge him. 

“I don't think I am.” You told him, raising your head. “They haven't given me a reason to be.”

Yoongi bit his lip in annoyance, his jaw clenching. He turned back to you, leaning over to get closer. You couldn’t see his eyes drifting around your face, but you did notice his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. 

“What are you getting at?” He asked you quietly. 

You smiled innocently, memorizing all the little things on his face that stood out to you. His puffy cheeks, his lips that he always seemed to have in a set line, the fluffiness of his hair that needed to be cut. You took in everything that made Yoongi look human. You wanted to think he was. 

“I would laugh at vampires who sparkle—sounds absolutely hilarious.” You snorted quietly. 

Your lips suddenly dropped, your eyes moving down to his. “But the ones who easily get irritated by light I'd believe.” He watched you look back up to keep eye contact. 

He glanced down at your lips as well, his own being pulled into a thin line as he sighed deeply. He chose to lay down on the grass, hands behind his head for cushion. He felt you scoot closer to him, almost leaning over him to block out the light. Truthfully he wanted you to look over him so he could take off the sunglasses. 

He wasn’t the leader of the group to speak on the matter but he knew he would have to talk with Namjoon about it. Closing his eyes, he decided on communicating with Namjoon through the telepathic connection Hobi placed on all of them. 

As Namjoon replied back that they would all speak on it, Yoongi felt you leaning over to speak to him. 

“Yoongi, why are you here?” You asked him. 

He stopped the connection quickly, moving his glasses off him. He watched your lips pull into a small smile now that you could see his eyes. 

“Because I have a blood condition.” He shrugged.

“Blood?” You frowned. “What is it exactly?”

“I need more of it.” He watched as you subconsciously scooted closer, one of his hands moving from behind his head to place itself on your knee. 

“You don't produce enough?” You inquired

“You could say that.” He hummed, rubbing his thumb along your skin. He felt you shiver at the coldness of his skin, but you seemed to enjoy his touch anyway. 

“How do they give it to you then?” A smile overtook his features when he noticed that you seemed to throw caution out the window and continued asking your questions. “I've never seen blood bags in your room.”

“I take tests for that. Just like all the others.” He explained. 

There wasn’t really a problem with Yoongi saying he didn’t produce enough blood. There was a disease where someone couldn’t produce enough blood cells, which wouldn't really call for speculation. 

Maybe you were in your head. Read something wrong in the journal. You couldn’t help but to think about everything that was said about each of the boys. There were signs you hadn’t really thought much about but you now knew they were there. 

Yoongi was just one the ones that were obvious about what he was. The only thing now is trying to figure it out for yourself, if the things you read about in books were real. 

“I'm going to go check on Kook. Would you like to join me?” You asked him while standing up. 

“I'll go in a bit.” He gave you a gummy smile. “I have something to check out.”

“Of course. I'll see you later, Yoongi.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkud, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @k-p0p-4ever , @shadowyjellyfishfest , @forestsquirrel , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie

#bts fanfic #bts #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bangtan sonyeondan #bts v #bts jin #bts namjoon #bts jung hoseok #kpop fanfic #bts imagines #bts min yoongi #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts ot7 #bts fantasy au #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: Not me already have written this part the day after I posted the first one 🤭. I wanna add titles to the chapters but idk what I’d have them be, probably lyrics from songs I like lol. Once again, apologies now for If Miguel is ooc and if the terminology and sports talk is wrong. If you’re experienced in either sport and wanted to lmk if I got something wrong. If you want to be added to the taglist lmk too.

(Y/N)- Your name, (L/N)- Last name.

No warnings, Just Miguel and you interacting lol. Idk if this is consider filler but it’s meant to get the ball rolling lol.

Word count: 1.3k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift the tide,

—

It’s been about a week since you’ve last ran into Miguel at the arena, surprisingly the figure skating team don’t run into the hockey team as much as you would think despite having to share a communal space on campus. Unfortunately, today was one of those days were you did run into them. You’ve arrived about 45 minutes early to practice, Logan nor coach Kavinsky were here yet. You were hoping to get some alone time on the ice before practice, but it had slipped your mind that today was Thursday, and on Thursdays the hockey team practiced before you rather then after like the rest of the week. As you dropped your gym back on the bench in the girl’s locker room, you were debating to whether you wanted to just wait at the arena till they were done, or walk back to your dorm. The only problem with the latter option is that the dorm buildings were all the way across campus, and by the time you finished the walk you’d have to turn around to walk back anyways.

So you stuck it up, and changed into your practice outfit, your skates in hand as you leave the locker room, deciding to keep your regular shoes on so you could at least get your stretching out of the way before your coach and partner came. You quickly went into one of the empty dance rooms that the arena had to do warm up stretches in, popping in your headphones to listen to your favorite song. After about 15 minutes you still had plenty of time before The Spiders got off the ice, you decided to just walk around the stadium. No destination in mind, just where ever your feet decided to carry you as your music continue to play in your ears. You can’t really say you were surprised to find yourself ending up in the main area with the ice rink, plopping yourself down in one of the front row seats as you let your brain go on autopilot.

You were too busy being lost in the music, you didn’t realize you were staring into space until you say a large tan hand appear in front of your face and began to snap its fingers, pulling you back into the moment.

“hellooo? Earth to ice princess.”

“Huh?” You shot up to sit straighter, blinking a bit as you take out your headphones, turning your head to look at the person who had just snapped you back into reality. “Look I know I’m attractive and all, but you don’t have to stare-“ Miguel begins, a cocky smirk on his face that you just wanted to smack off. One of his large hands going up to take off this helmet, his dark brown hair that was usually slicked back was now messy from the helmet, a thin coat of sweat covering his forehead. You cut him off, “ew, why would I be staring at you?” You question, your face slightly scrunched in distaste at the thought.

“You’ve been looking in my direction at the past 20 minutes.” He smirks as his teammates start to put away all their hockey equipment behind him, not paying attention to you both talk. You gave him a confused look before you realize why he might have been thinking that, “Oooooh-no-no I was just zoning out, I wasn’t staring at you on purpose.” You quickly explain, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck with your gloved hand, attempting to keep eye contact with the hockey player.

For a second, it looked like Miguel’s cocky exterior faltered, before coming back up. “Uh huh…sure.” He tone dripping with sarcasm as he drops his helmet onto a seat, then taking a seat next to you. His action caught you by surprise but you didn’t let it show, you also didn’t want to show the annoyance that filled your body from the taunting comment. “Why are you even here this early? Where is your little boyfriend?” He asked as turns his body towards you, resting the hand closest to you on his knee, his forearm that was further from you going to rest on his other knee. He was manspreading a bit, his eyes raking over your form slowly.

“Jesus why is it so warm in here all of a sudden? Usually I’m freezing my nonexistent balls off…” You thought as you shifted in your seat a bit, feeling the need to distract yourself, you start to change into your skates. “I wanted to get some time on the ice alone before practice but I forgot it was Thursday and- wait. Boyfriend?”

Miguel chuckled at your surprised reaction, turning his head away slightly, the hand that was resting on his knee came up to cover the smile that was creeping up on his face from your reaction. After a second or two he cleared his throat, his hand dropping back down to his knee as he turns to face you again with a neutral expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend, the one you skate with. What’s his name again? Lincoln? Liam?” Miguel knew his name, he just wanted to see if you’d correct him.

“Logan?”

Miguel tried his best not to scowl.

“Yeah, Logan-whatever-where’s he at?” He asked, he’s words come out annoyed and a bit rushed. “Well for one, he’s not my boyfriend, just my figure skating partner.” You start as you tilted your head to the side as you look at him, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Now Miguel is trying his hardest not to let a huge shit eating grin spread across his lips. “And second, he’s probably on his way, he had a class today before practice-some science thing- I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders as you finish speaking.

Speaking of the devil, Logan and Coach Kavinsky appear through the front double door. “Ah! (Y/N), already here. Perfect! Let’s get straight into it.” She said with a smile as she seemingly ignore Miguel’s presence next to you, Logan stops next to you as you both took the guards off your skates, him shooting you a knowing look, his lips twitching up into small smirk as his eyes drift between you and Miguel. “I swear to God…if he brings this up later…” You start to think but a voice cut you off.

“Hey Cap!” One of the hockey players called out for Miguel’s attention, “We just finished packing up, you coming?” He asked as he skate to the edge of the rink, before getting out, a few of the other lingering players that were making sure all the equipment was all packed up doing the same. As soon as the other player was done speak to Miguel, he took off his helmet revealing (messy from the helmet and some sweat) light brown hair and brown eyes, his lower half of his face covered with a 5 o’ clock shadow and you noticed his nose was slightly croaked, probably him having broken it from a past game.

Miguel let out a heavy sigh, before turning towards the other player. “Yeah Parker, I’m going.” He grumbled as he brought his hand up to rub his face before giving you one more quick glance and getting up, leaving with the rest of who was left from his team, without another word. For some reason, that bothered you, causing your brows furrowed as your lips fall into a small frown.

“Rude…” you mumbled as you got up from your seat, Logan heard this and let out a small snort as he steps on to the ice. “Don’t overthink it (L/N), that’s just how he is.” Your partner tried to reassure you, you send him a small smile back and a quick nod of your head.

“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t overthink it.” You repeat his words, as you went to enter the rink as well, but it was a bit too late for that, because you already were overthink it.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara fanfic #miguel spiderverse #astv #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #hockey au #figure skating au #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 #Spiderman 2099 fanfic #on thin ice fanfic

[loverofpiggies]

how are you doing today, everything is good?

Heck yeah, everything is doing great!

Me and my girlfriend did a walk through a giant Aspen grove nearby to watch the fall leaves yesterday, and I'm lucky enough to live in an area that'll see the eclipse tomorrow. Me and my whole family have the glasses, so we're gonna get together for a little viewing party.

I've been super duper busy, but I'm considering taking off my one November convention so I can sit and focus for the month on the video game. I haven't been able to work on it for MONTHS and I so badly want to continue to.

But mentally, I've been really fantastic. I'm back into reading books and I'm trying to get through my gf's favorite book series right now, or go back and reread some classics. To Kill A Mockingbird might just be my favorite book ever written.

Enough rambling, but yes! I'm doing super well right now! The only thing I want more of is rest, lol

#cqchat #even when shows are slow I've traveled lately to family weddings and whatnot #travel is SO exhausting but even moreso when doing it for my business #taking November off completely from travel sounds like a dream #usually in the winter I have a month off to relax but this time I happen to have events every single month of the year #its making some burnout so November vacation is probably in order

[nasa]

NASA Photographers Share Their Favorite Photos of the SLS Moon Rocket

NASA’s Space Launch System (SLS) rocket is on the launch pad at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida and in final preparations for the Artemis I mission to the Moon. Now that our Moon rocket is almost ready for its debut flight, we wanted to take a look back at some of the most liked photographs of our SLS rocket coming together over the years.

We asked NASA photographers to share their favorite photos of the SLS rocket for Artemis I at different phases of testing, manufacturing, and assembly. Here are their stories behind the photos:

“On this day in March 2018, crews at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, transported the intertank structural test article off NASA’s Pegasus barge to the Load Test Annex test facility for qualification testing.” —Emmett Given, photographer, NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center

“This is the liquid oxygen tank structural test article as it was moved from the Pegasus barge to the West Test Area at our Marshall Space Flight Center on July 9, 2019. The tank, which is structurally identical to its flight version, was subsequently placed in the test stand for structural testing several days later. I remember it being a blazing hot day!” —Fred Deaton, photographer, NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center

“The large components of the SLS rocket’s core stage can make you forget that there are many hands-on tasks required to assemble a rocket, too. During the mating of the liquid hydrogen tank to the forward section of the rocket’s 212-foot-tall core stage in May 2019, technicians fastened 360 bolts to the circumference of the rocket. Images like this remind me of all the small parts that have to be installed with care, expertise, and precision to create one huge Moon rocket. Getting in close to capture the teammates that work tirelessly to make Artemis a success is one of the best parts of my job.” —Eric Bordelon, photographer, NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility

“An incredible amount of precision goes into building a rocket, including making sure that each of our SLS rocket’s four RS-25 engines is aligned and integrated into the core stage correctly. In this image from October 2019, I attempted to illustrate the teamwork and communication happening as technicians at NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility in New Orleans do their part to help land the first woman and the first person of color on the Moon through the Artemis missions. It’s rare to see the inside of a rocket – not as much for the NASA and Boeing engineers who manufacture and assemble a rocket stage!” —Jared Lyons, photographer, NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility

“When the fully assembled and completed core stage left the Michoud factory in January 2020, employees took a “family photo” to mark the moment. Crews transported the flight hardware to NASA’s Pegasus barge on Jan. 8 in preparation for the core stage Green Run test series at NASA’s Stennis Space Center near Bay St. Louis, Mississippi. When I look at this photo, I am reminded of all of the hard work and countless hours the Michoud team put forth to build this next-generation Moon rocket. I am honored to be part of this family and to photograph historic moments like this for the Artemis program.” —Steven Seipel, MAF multimedia team lead, NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility

“This photo shows workers at Stennis prepare to lift the SLS core stage into the B-2 Test Stand for the SLS Green Run test series in the early morning hours of Jan. 22, 2020. I started shooting the lift operation around midnight. During a break in the action at about 5:30 a.m., I was driving my government vehicle to the SSC gas station to fuel up, when I saw the first light breaking in the East and knew it was going to be a nice sunrise. I turned around and hurried back to the test stand, sweating that I might run out of gas. Luckily, I didn’t run out and was lucky enough to catch a beautiful Mississippi sunrise in the background, too.” —Danny Nowlin, photographer, NASA’s Stennis Space Center

“I like the symmetry in the video as it pushes toward the launch vehicle stage adapter. Teams at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, loaded the cone-shaped piece of flight hardware onto our Pegasus barge in July 2020 for delivery to NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The one-point perspective puts the launch vehicle stage adapter at the center of attention, but, if you pay attention to the edges, you can see people working. It gives a sense of scale. This was the first time I got to walk around Pegasus and meet the crew that transport the deep space rocket hardware, too.” —Sam Lott, videographer, SLS Program at Marshall Space Flight Center

“This was my first time photographing a test at our Stennis Space Center, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I have photographed big events like professional football games, but I wasn't prepared for the awesome power unleashed by the Space Launch System’s core stage and four RS-25 engines during the Green Run hot fire test. Watching the sound wave ripple across the tall grass toward us, feeling the shock wave of ignition throughout my whole body, seeing the smoke curling up into the blue sky with rainbows hanging from the plume; all of it was as unforgettable as watching a football player hoist a trophy into the air.” —Michael DeMocker, photographer, NASA’s Michoud Assembly Facility

“When our SLS Moon rocket launches the agency’s Artemis I mission to the Moon, 10 CubeSats, or small satellites, are hitching a ride inside the rocket’s Orion stage adapter (OSA). BioSentinel is one of those CubeSats. BioSentinel’s microfluidics card, designed at NASA’s Ames Research Center in California’s Silicon Valley, will be used to study the impact of interplanetary space radiation on yeast. To me, this photo is a great combination of the scientific importance of Artemis I and the human touch of more than 100 engineers and scientists who have dedicated themselves to the mission over the years.” —Dominic Hart, photographer, NASA’s Ames Research Center

“I was in the employee viewing area at Kennedy when the integrated SLS rocket and Orion spacecraft was rolled out to the launchpad for its wet dress rehearsal in March 2022. I really like this photo because the sun is shining on Artemis I like a spotlight. The giant doors of the Vehicle Assembly Building are the red curtain that opened up the stage -- and the spotlight is striking the SLS because it’s the star of the show making its way to the launchpad. I remember thinking how cool that NASA Worm logo looked as well, so I wanted to capture that. It was so big that I had to turn my camera sideways because the lens I had wasn’t big enough to capture the whole thing.” —Brandon Hancock, videographer, SLS Program at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center

“I made this image while SLS and Orion atop the mobile launcher were nearing the end of their four-mile trek to the pad on crawler-transporter 2 ahead of launch. Small groups of employees were filtering in and out of the parking lot by the pad gate to take in the sight of the rocket’s arrival. The “We Are Going!” banner affixed to the gate in the foreground bears the handwritten names of agency employees and contractors who have worked to get the rocket and spacecraft ready for the Artemis I flight test. As we enter the final days before launch, I am proud to have made my small contribution to documenting the historic rollout for this launch to the Moon.” —Joel Kowsky, photographer, NASA Headquarters

More Photo-worthy Moments to Come!

NASA photographers will be on the ground covering the Artemis I launch. As they do, we’ll continue to share their photos on our official NASA channels.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #Artemis #Moon #Space Launch System #rocket science #space #exploration #Moon 2024 #science #technology #tech #photography #photographers on Tumblr #original photographers

[hexidous]

Silk and Sweat

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Summary: Your apartment in the city is getting too expensive, so you pick up a side job as a stripper. When a customer gets handsy with you, the club manager Joel comes to your rescue.

Warnings: No use of Y/N but you do have a stage name. No depictions of reader’s physical appearance. Reader late 20s, Joel early 50s. Adult themes, depictions of stripping, sexual assault (not Joel), fingering, general horniness

Word count: 4.2k

Part II: Pretty As You Feel

Series Masterlist

-

Deep in the recesses of your closet hid a large box, collecting dust over the years. You had danced throughout college and kept some of your favorite work wears, just in case you ever returned.

You can totally still do this, you assure yourself as you sift through the long neglected contents.

With a huff of determination you put a bag together, setting your bagged heels at the bottom, followed by a few pairs of panties, a couple of dresses and your cosmetic bag.

There were plenty of strip clubs in the area, but you wanted to be sure to choose the right one. You never liked the younger crowds or nightclub-like scenes, the higher end clubs with older clientele suited your needs much better. Sure, they weren’t throwing handfuls of cash or making bills rain down with money guns to impress their friends, but you couldn’t stand dealing with a never ending sea of frat boys and batchelor parties.

You pull into the parking lot of the first club on your list, reading the simple red script illuminated by LED.

Silk Cabaret

You tried to quell your nervousness. It had been so long and you’re terrified they might turn you away in favor of teens and early twenties dancers.

A few words came to mind as you pushed through the doors. Lavish. Ostentatious, perhaps. The red walls were decorated with matching silk, meeting warm stained wood furnishings and accents.

“Hello!” A cute young woman greets you enthusiastically. “How can I help you?”

“Are you hiring dancers?” You ask, trying to project your voice and sound as confident as possible.

“I think so, let me grab a manager,” she chirps before standing up from her spot behind the counter.

You watch her disappear behind the wall dividing the entry room from the main section of the club. She emerges a moment later with a bright smile and cheery, “Follow me!”

You survey the rest of the club as you trail behind her. The bar was a large and L-shaped and tables covered in red cloth. The stage was displayed at the back of the room, a wide oval shape at the base with a short runway jutting out toward the center of the club.

The host leaves you to wait beside a bottle service section for a manager to come speak with you. After another minute or two of looking around, you noticed a figure emerge from behind a closed door.

Your eyes widen without your permission as you take in the man striding to toward you.

“Joel,” he says in a deep voice, jutting his large hand forward.

You try to maintain your composure as he envelopes your hand in his own and introduce yourself with a small smile, waiting for him to continue.

“You been fired from any clubs around here recently?” He asks, cutting right to the chase.

“No,” you reply with a small laugh. “I haven’t even danced in years. But I’ve never been fired, I’m not on drugs, no crazy boyfriend or baby daddy drama. Nothing that’s gonna give you a headache, I promise.”

You notice his lip curl upward in a slight smirk. “Haven’t danced in years, huh? What’s got you back?”

“I take it by that question you don’t pay rent in this city,” you tell him in a slightly amused tone.

“Ok you got me there. So you wanna start tonight?”

“Got my bag in my car,” you respond with a grin.

“We won’t pick up for a while, I can send you off with some paperwork if you want to come back around 7.”

“I don’t mind, it’ll give me some time to get acquainted,” you tell him as you head to retrieve your bag.

You return inside to find Joel now gone and you make your way toward the dressing room nestled behind the stage.

“One last thing,” Joel calls as you pass the now open door of his office.

Mildly startled, you turn to him and tilt your head, silently questioning.

“What’s your stage name?”

You bring your lip between your teeth, briefly wondering if you should assume a new moniker. Deciding against it, a name rolls off your tongue like an old friend. “Starla.”

-

You feel your anxiety laugh at you for thinking you were nervous before. Knowing one of the most gorgeous men you had seen in a long time would inevitably be watching you dance mostly naked would have excited you years ago. Now you feel almost sick as your heart races and and a knot forms at the base of your throat.

You shake your head, trying to force your unbelievably handsome new boss from your head.

You apply your makeup in a section of the bright, mirrored dressing room that’s unoccupied. You paint your eyes and lips darker and more exaggerated than you would normally and blush that looks ridiculous in the glaring light but perfect for both the dim club and flashy stage lighting. After running a brush through your hair, you stand to undress.

Your favorite dress was beautiful, but didn’t provide the easiest on and off access with the lace up back. Deciding to save it for the end of the night, if at all, you don a set made of a long skirt with a slit up the side and a tight matching top that pushes your breasts together enticingly.

You strap your heels on and shove your bag in an empty locker. With a steadying breath, you push through the thick, velvet curtain that shrouded the dressing room from prying eyes.

There was one customer now, chatting with the only other dancer you’ve seen so far. She looks to be a bit older than you, with spray tanned skin and gravity defying breasts.

You stand awkwardly beside the bar, unwilling to sit just yet.

“Hey there,” you hear in a soft, high pitched voice. You hadn’t noticed the bartender make her way toward you until she stood two feet away. “I’m Kenzie.”

“I’m-“ You begin, but catch yourself with a laugh. “I’m Starla. Gonna take some getting used to that again.”

“It won’t take long,” she responds with a knowing smile. “Want anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” you tell her. Frankly, you’d love a drink to settle your nerves, but you weren’t about to pay strip club drink prices when you know soon enough there will be a room full of men willing to pay them for you.

“It’s on Phil,” she says with a nod in the direction of the man you noticed earlier.

He and the woman talking to him meet your gaze and give you a smile and wave.

“Thank you!” You call over, waving back. You turn your attention back to Kenzie. “Titos and clubs soda it is then.”

Kenzie returns with your drink and you sip slowly, waiting for the action to pick up.

By the time you reach the end, the only other people to walk in were two more girls, chatting casually as they made their way to the back.

“He said he’ll get you another if you’d like,” Kenzie says, grabbing your empty glass.

“I should probably take it slow,” you respond.

“Smart girl. I like you.”

You smile at her compliment and see Joel emerging from his office again, taking a stance beside the vip section. He catches your gaze and gives you a smile.

With nothing else going on you decide to approach him, the confidence of your former persona coming through.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you sincerely. Your stomach flutters and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks. You were used to lecherous compliments at the club, given with a lustful look over your body. But Joel kept his eyes on yours.

“Thanks. I guess I’m glad I didn’t the heart to give away everything when I stopped dancing.”

“What did you do before deciding to come back to this?” He asks, his eyes scanning the nonexistent crowd.

“I’m a graphic designer,” you tell him. “With outsourcing and AI it’s been a nightmare to find reasonable pay.”

He nods empathetically. “I bet.”

“How long have you worked here?” You ask.

“About ten years. I took work as a bouncer after serving in the military. Came here, got promoted after two and… Well, here I am.” He runs a hand through his tousled salt and brown sugar hair.

Before you can say anything else, another pair of girls come strolling by.

“Hi, Joel,” one says, slowly dragging the vowels out before giggling with her friend.

“Ladies,” Joel says curtly with a nod.

“What time does the DJ get in?” You ask Joel nervously.

“About an hour.”

Your stomach drops a bit. You haven’t been on a stage in years. “Do you mind if I maybe do a practice song or two before rotation starts? It’s been so long and I’m a bit antsy to get it over with.”

“Of course,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you turn to make your way over. “Sure hope it’s like riding a bike!” you call over your shoulder as you walk away. You think you hear a chuckle but you don’t dare turn around to check.

The preset playlist cycles through typical 80s hair metal and pop songs. Good to know some things don’t change.

You step through the curtain, thankful the room is nearly empty. Your eyes dart to where Joel was standing and you breathe a sigh of relief to see it empty.

You slowly sway your hips to the beat, grasping the cold metal pole in your hands. You spin around it, rotating your body with quick ease. Feeling more confident, you grasp higher and begin to climb.

The friction is painful between your legs, your thighs no longer desensitized to the intense grip. But you’re doing it. You carefully wrap your body around the pole, losing yourself to the beat as you transition into some basic moves.

You breathe a sigh of relief that your stage time maybe won’t be as painfully awkward as you feared.

You push through the curtain back into the dressing room.

“You’re wasting your time you know,” a girl sitting down to get ready tells you as she smiles at herself in the mirror, applying dark red lipstick.

Your brow furrows as you wait for her to continue.

“Joel Miller doesn’t fuck with the dancers. Trust me, we’ve all tried,” she says with a laugh. “I’m just giving you a heads up before you lose out on money trying to get in his chastity belt.”

“Thanks, but I wasn’t…”

“Mmhmm,” she says with an unbelieving raised brow and knowing smirk before returning to her routine.

-

The night begins to pick up, patrons and more dancers slowly filling the modest space. The DJ arrives and you introduce yourself.

“I’m Tommy,” he tells you with a warm smile. “Anything you like to dance to?” He asks.

“I’m not too picky,” you reply. “But I may have slight PTSD from the song Girls, Girls, Girls so please avoid that one.”

“That’s our promo song,” he says with a frown.

“Oh god,” you grumble. The thought of hearing that song every hour on the hour nearly giving you a headache.

“I kid, couldn’t help myself,” he reveals with a proud smile.

“Thank Christ. I almost quit.”

-

It’s not long before you hear Tommy call you to the stage for the next song. Your nerves are set alight as you make your way through the dressing room and enter the DJ booth.

“Hope you got a good set for me,” you tell him.

“I got you, superstar,” he replies with a wide grin.

You throw your shoulders back and emerge onto the large, glossy wooden stage, heels clicking with each step.

You freeze, hearing the familiar beginning notes of Girls, Girls, Girls and shoot Tommy a death stare. The song smoothly transitions into Alice Cooper’s Poison and you fight a smile as you watch Tommy shake with silent laughter.

You’ve danced to the song plenty of times and didn’t have to think much about your movements, your muscle memory doing all the work. You slowly shed your clothing and give attention to the men at the stage tipping you.

Sitting before a group of transfixed men, you arch your back and spread your legs. Your head comes forward and you lock eyes with Joel, who you hadn’t realized was staring intently at you. As soon as he notices your gaze, he scans the room, looking everywhere but the stage.

You finish your set and grab your money and dress.

“You’re an ass for that, you know,” you tell Tommy with a smile as you head to the dressing room.

-

You slip back into your former routine easily. Approach a man, laugh at his lame jokes, hand out light touches to his arm or knee, seem interested in his boring life.

“I’ve got someone coming in to see me soon, but I’d really love to dance for you,” you deliver your go to line with a purr.

“Can’t be havin’ that,” the man you’re talking to growls, a slight slur to his words. “Want ya all to m’self.”.

“Let’s go then,” you say, forcing out a giggle.

He hands you a few hundreds. “Half hour.”

You approach Joel and hand over the dance fee for the private room.

He nods and marks down the time. You lead the moderately intoxicated man by his hand and he uses his free one to slap your ass.

You turn around and see Joel puffing his broad chest out, ready to make a move. You shake your head subtly, indicating you could handle it.

“You’ll want to behave, baby, I don’t give refunds,” you tell him sternly.

You begin dancing for him in the tiny private space. His suit is rumpled and his drunkenness seems to increase as he sits before you.

Clammy fingers grab at your skirt, trying to pull it off. You bat his hands away, annoyed. “It’s called a strip tease for a reason, have a little patience.”

“You sure are a fuckin’ tease,” he spits.

You turn to face away from him, bending slightly and slowly shaking your ass to hide the look of rage you don’t care to conceal. He smacks your ass again.

“Touch me one more time and see what the fuck happens,” you seethe in his face, unable to contain your anger at the drunken bastard.

“Better make it count then,” he growls through clenched teeth.

More nimbly than you’d expect, he stands up and presses you to the wall, using one hand to cover your mouth and shoving the other down the front of your panties.

You thrash against him but before you can make a move, you hear the curtain rip open. Joel storms in, dominating the small space with his imposing frame. He grabs the man off of you swiftly.

“She asked me to!” He lies in his defense.

You watch as Joel’s nostrils flare, his large muscles twitching. Before you can register it, he’s delivering blow after blow to the man’s face.

“And I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I heard you ask me to do that,” he says in a frighteningly low, steady voice.

He drags the man out and you stay frozen, trying to collect yourself.

Of course this would fucking happen, you think bitterly. You feel a dull throb between your thighs as you think about the way Joel defended you. And of course it would turn me on.

You’re not sure how long you stand there before Joel tentatively renters the room.

“Are you ok?” He asks, his voice soft and low, warming you from the inside like a cup of tea on a cold night.

“Yeah,” you say flatly. “Been through worse. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he says firmly. “I am so sorry that happened in my club. I should have stepped in when I saw him smack your ass.”

“It’s not your fault. Thank you for coming so quickly,” you reply honestly. “How did you know to get here so fast?”

He clears his throat almost bashfully and looks away. “I was standing close by and heard you yell at him. Heard too much commotion so I came in.”

“So much for not causing you a headache,” you joke, trying to lighten the air.

“You didn’t cause a headache for me, darlin’” he assures. “You wanna press charges?”

“So the law can favor the rich guy over the stripper and he sues you for hitting him? Nah, I’m good.”

He studies your face for a moment. “You ok to go back out?”

“Yeah. I think I could go for another drink now.”

-

The rest of your night goes by with relative ease. You notice Joel’s eyes on you a few times, but when you catch him he doesn’t look away. Silently assuring you that you’re safe under his watch.

What I'd give to be safe under his body, you think to yourself.

"As much as I've loved talking to you," you lie to whoever you're sitting beside now, "I gotta get a move on."

"One more drink," he pleads.

"My boss is kind of a hard ass," you lie again. "He’ll really lay into me if I stay in one place for too long.”

God I wish he’d lay into me, your filthy brain whispers again.

“Alright,” the man relents. “A dance then?”

“That I can do,” you respond, leaving your chair. You see Joel’s eyes fixed on you in your peripheral vision. It drives you wild.

You wait for a new song to come on before you begin to shake your hips between the man’s legs. He’s not terrible looking. Probably around the same age as Joel, but lacking the sex appeal that exudes from the man dominating your thoughts.

You straddle one of his thighs, arching your back and resting your forearms well above his shoulder. You pop your pussy, making your ass jiggle rhythmically. Your center just barely grazes his thigh and you close your eyes, imagining Joel beneath you. You shudder out a breath and change your position. You rub your thighs together, your thoughts of Joel cumulating to a dull ache between them.

The song ends and the man below you seems to notice your desire, mistaking it to be for him. He requests to keep going and you oblige, continuing to picture Joel with every tormented move.

Tommy announces that he’s about to play the last three songs of the evening.

“Might as well see it through to the end,” you whisper.

“Might as well,” he grunts back, adjusting himself in his pants.

You dance for the remainder of the night, collecting the cash from your final customer.

“Will I see you again?” He asks as you redress.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “But if I keep dancing it’ll be here.”

“Here’s hoping you do,” he tells you as he stands. “It was great to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too. Goodnight.” You give him a small smile before heading to the dressing room.

-

Most of the girls have left by the time you change back into the dress you wore in. Your face feels heavy with sweat and makeup, so you decide to remove it all before making your way up to the DJ booth. You catch Tommy just as he’s about to head out.

“You know, I debated stiffing you for that stunt you pulled earlier,” you say, handing him a few twenties, tipping more than necessary because you know the value of having the DJ on your side. “But you did pretty good otherwise so I guess I’ll hock it over.”

“Why thank you, darlin’,” he tells you with a little bow of his head. “See you tomorrow?”

“With how sore I’m gonna be? You’ll see me in a week. Maybe.”

“Don’t wait till it hits ya, take an epsom soak tonight,” he advises.

“I think that is exactly what I’ll do.”

You find Joel in his office, sorting through stacks of bills and paperwork, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his strong nose. You thought he couldn’t get any sexier, but here you were, slowly melting from the inside out.

“Hi,” you say softly to get his attention. He looks up at you as hand your house fee his way.

“I don’t want that after what you dealt with tonight,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Like I said, been through worse. Just take it.”

He obliges, setting it alongside the other stacks.

“You can still help me feel better about it though,” you say, drunk off all the attention given to you that night. And the drinks.

“How’s that?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“I don’t like when control is taken from me,” you state. “I hate that his clammy little hands were the last ones to touch me.”

He stares up at you silently. It’s almost imperceivable but you take note of the way his brow furrows and chest rises and falls a little harder.

He doesn’t get up from his chair, but swivels it to face you fully. He takes one hand and places it on the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. He slides it upward at an excruciating pace, causing a shiver to run through your body. “This is what you want? What you’re asking of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper and nod your head. “Please.”

He continues up your thigh until reaching your cotton panties, a much more comfortable switch from the ones you wore while working. He drags a finger around the hem teasingly before brushing his thumb over your clit.

He looks up at you, waiting for your eyes to return to his. There’s a fire in them as he yanks your panties down roughly, causing you to yelp in surprise.

“Shut the door,” he commands. You quickly do as you’re told.

He returns his hand to your center, hissing as he feels the extent of how turned on you are.

“What’s got you so wet, baby?” He asks with a smirk, lightly running his fingers up and down your slit.

“Been thinking about you,” you admit breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop myself.”

He pushes two digits fully into you, eliciting a partly stifled moan. He sets a quick pace, causing your knees to almost buckle.

Joel takes off his reading glasses with his free hand. “Lift your dress,” he commands. “I want to see.”

You lift your dress and watch as he stares at his fingers brutally fucking into your pussy, his other hand returning to roughly grasp your hip. His breaths are more labored and his lips are curled into a slight snarl. The sight sends you closer to the edge.

He feels your walls start to constrict around his fingers and brings the hand on your hip to settle flat against your stomach, his thumb finding your clit and pressing quick circles into it.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, your greedy cunt tightening further, wanting more.

“Shut that pretty mouth if you want me to make you cum,” he warns.

“Yes sir,” you whisper, biting your lip to stop from crying out.

“Good girl,” he praises in a softer tone.

That’s all it takes for the knot in your center to pull itself free, a wave of intense pleasure rushing through you. You bite your lip harder and place a hand on Joel’s firm, muscled shoulder to keep from screaming or collapsing.

You let your hand run down his strong bicep as he removes his fingers.

“On your knees,” he demands.

You readily sink between his legs and eye the massive bulge he has there. You want to reach out and touch it, free it from the strict confines of his pants and take him in your mouth. Wordlessly thank him. You want to fucking worship him.

But you know that you’re not the one in charge, you handed those reigns over to Joel with pleasure.

He brings his wet fingers to your lips and you eagerly take them in your mouth, twirling your tongue around his digits as you suck them clean. He groans, sending another twinge of desire to your spent pussy. You were insatiable.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your hot mouth a few times, transfixed by your soft lips.

He takes his hand away and wipes his saliva on his shirt.

Standing up, his throbbing cock just inches from your face. You look up at him, silently begging for permission to take it out.

“Come on,” he says instead, offering a hand down to you. “I’ll walk you out.”

You take his hand and rise, disappointed.

He’s quiet as he walks you to your car and you worry that you fucked up by asking him to touch you. You were already warned that he didn’t mess around with the dancers. It was a good policy to stick to but you had met very few men working in clubs who had the willpower to follow through with it. Now he probably didn’t want you coming back.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you reach your car. “For walking me out, for saving me from that creep and for helping me feel better about it. I know that’s all it was, I won’t be weird about it. But I understand if you don’t want me to come back.”

He shoots you an offended look. “Jesus, no. You are more than welcome back here.”

He pauses for a moment before opening his arms to you. You shyly sink into them, reveling in how firm yet soft his warm body felt against yours. He pats your upper back, like a dad would to a kid. “I’m sorry again about tonight. Drive safe.”

“Will do,” you tell him before slipping into your car. You watch as he turns to head back into the club, taking in his broad frame with admiration. You were fucked.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut

[gayerthanevertbh]

blissfulness | i want you pt. 5

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

pairings: older!natasha romanoff x young!fem reader

summary: your father doesn’t know it yet, but you’re in love with his best friend. and what makes it better is that you’re sure enough that she feels the same way. the sad part is, neither of you can word out your love for each other properly.

warnings: slight anxiety attack (just a tinge), bucky being a little bitch, smut involved, oral sex (n receiving), g!p natasha, dirty talking, fluff, and a little angst - MINORS DNI.

notes: i might be uploading part 6 later since i’m so motivated right now! and i’m sorry that i haven’t been updating, but i’ll do my best to update from now on! anyway, enjoy x 

The residents of the town began to throw their own parties in the middle of July. Therefore, I was invited, as well as my dear friends. When I asked Bucky about the large party near the swimming lake, he informed me that Felicia, one of our old friends, was hosting it. I considered joining and having fun with them, as I always do, but then I focused on Natasha because we were secretly developing a relationship. Though I knew deep down that our affair could never be in public, I still wanted to show her how much I love her as much as she loves me.

But Bucky kept an eye on both of us. And if he found out she loved me, my father would find out and tear us apart as if we were nothing to each other. Natasha is like a mother to me, but I don't see her that way, so I knew that my father would never approve of this kind of relationship. How can I think that way about her when all she offers is an act of affection that goes beyond platonic? How can I sleep when all I could think about is her? Her, her, her. I love her, I love her more than anything else in this world. I love her because she sees me, and only me. I love her.

Love is not always enough.

Reading in the sun is always my favorite activity when I'm in Italy with my father and the people around us. While fiddling through the pages, I pay close attention to Natasha as she flips the steak she was roasting near the garden area where we all eat. She turned her gaze to me and smiled, while my father was ranting to her about something so oblivious. I looked at her defined shoulders with a churn in my stomach. Oh, how many times I’ve bit onto her skin while her cock was ramming inside of my cunt, whispering my name each time she thrusts into me. In and out, in and out. My cunt began to feel tingly, and I had to close my legs to calm myself down. Not right now, I thought. It’s too obvious.

But her skin was flawless in the Tuscan sun. How easily she moves her hands in the air while talking to my father, how gracefully she smiles at him, making me wish she would do the same with me. I was the sun if she was the moon. Everything was flawless in my presence, and this summer has gone above and beyond perfection. I gave one more look before reading through the pages of my favorite book, sighing happily to myself.

I was about to fall asleep in the sun after fifteen minutes had passed when I overheard two people laughing and chatting as they approached our house. I sat up and looked over my shoulder to see Bucky and MJ walking by. What are they doing here? I thought to myself. Should I shoo them away to prevent ruining my day? Knowing Bucky, I know that my day will be ruined when he is around Natasha. I had to do something.

Until I was too late.

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky patted his back while inhaling the amazing smell of steak from the grill. He looked at Natasha and gave her a small smile, reaching out his hand. “It’s nice seeing you again, Nat.”

If they would see my face right now, they would notice how uncomfortable I was with this scenery.

"Good to see you too, Buck." She scratched the back of her neck and smiled at him. “And who is this lady? I’ve never seen her before.”

Steve responded in her place, taking a sip from his cold beer. "That's Y/n's other good friend Mj, they've been friends ever since we built the house here," he said. “Along with Bucky, of course. The three of them have been good friends.”

“You live here?” Natasha asked Mj.

She gleefully replied to the woman, "I only come here during the summer or Christmas. And whenever I’m here, Bucky and Y/n will be around the area. They’ve been my friends ever since I was a kid.”

Natasha nodded slowly and grabbed herself a cold beer from the red box that was filled with other beverages. “Y/n is over there, reading her book. Does she always like to read while the sun is out?”

“It’s one of her favorite things to do,” Mj chuckled, crossing her arms while whistling to catch my attention. I stood up from the grass and walked towards them all, brushing my hair away from my face. I smiled at Mj and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, greeting her in a friendly matter.

“When did you guys get here?” I asked. Before MJ could respond, Bucky wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close to him, as though I were his love. I knew Natasha was watching his arm, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“The minute we smelled these amazing fucking steaks!” Bucky exclaimed happily, kissing the temple of my forehead. I looked into Natasha’s green eyes, and the sparkling light behind them was gone. Did she envy me, now? Did she envy the way he touched me? If she only knew that I never meant for this to happen, then I would’ve gladly said that out loud. But I couldn’t risk it, not when my father and my other friend were around.

“Hey Y/n, why don’t you help Natasha bring out the wine glasses?” my father asked, which felt like some type of relief. I got out of Bucky’s embrace and followed Natasha to the kitchen quietly, not looking back at his staring eyes.

Because I knew he was staring.

I can feel the beginning of our silence as I make my way to the kitchen. When we arrived, neither of us exchanged a word, and I was unsure of how to start a conversation with her while she was nearby. She turned around and smiled at me, which was completely unexpected. I couldn't help but return her smile.

“Enjoying yourself out there?” she asked me with a deep sultry voice while her hands kept themselves busy. I shook my head and reached for four wine glasses, gripping them tightly with my fingers.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” she replied almost instantly and grabbed two bottles of red wine from the pantry. “Are you?”

I felt myself pausing, lacking words as her eyes stared deep into mine – as if she wanted to kiss me right there where everybody could see, where everybody could witness our unhinged love for each other. Instead, I nodded sheepishly and replied with a stutter, “W-Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I know you, Y/n.”

“Were you jealous a while ago?”

She quirked an eyebrow and let out a small quiet chuckle, shaking her head.

“Was I jealous?”

I rolled my eyes, leaning against the countertop. “Can you answer my question properly, please?”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “I just… he’s holding you as if you were his.”

“But you know that I’m yours, right?” my voice sounded timid, and the air started to feel warm. My skin also felt warm, almost to the point of sweating. She nodded and slowly walked towards me, her breath trickling down my face. She leans in close and smiles to herself. Like a proud woman, she is.

“I know, sweetheart. Maybe that’s why I want to fuck you tonight.”

I let out a quiet gasp when she kissed my bottom lip searingly and walked away with a proud grin on her face. I tried to walk properly, but I could feel my legs tingling once again. This effect that she has on me, cannot be hidden anymore. At some point, everyone will know and I will be the one who is to blame for it. Not her. But could that even happen right now? I doubt it.

We ate the steak in the garden with laughs and giggles coming from us all. I was sitting beside Bucky while Natasha was sitting with my father, pouring herself a drink while my father helps her out with the cigarette in her mouth. MJ couldn’t help but ask, “Are you two dating?”

Natasha and Steve exchanged glances before giggling softly. That caused my heart to race because I felt as though I were witnessing their love story. It wasn't, though, so that. They might be dating, but I doubt it. It could just be a theoretical idea. Not when Natasha gave me a different kind of look than everyone else.

Bucky felt his body stiffen and ate a huge piece of meat. MJ scrunched her eyebrows together, asking the same question again. “So, are you?”

“No, we’re not dating,” the woman replied to her. “I don’t think he would be my type anyway.”

“Wait, so are you–”

“Yes,” Natasha cuts her off with an amusing smile, flicking the ash from the cigarette near the ground. “I’m a lesbian, MJ. I like women.”

There was a brief silence before MJ nodded with a flushed face, sipping her drink from the wine glass. Bucky nodded slowly and brought his arm back around me, as if protecting me from something so dangerous. Natasha looked at us both, but her face looked nonchalant. She wasn’t bothered. Why wasn’t she bothered by the two of us?

“I heard that Felicia is throwing a party again,” my father mentioned, wiping his chin with a paper towel. MJ looked at me with a smirk, a devilish one, and I could feel my eyes rolling in a playful matter. “Are you three going? You know, Felicia was one of your best friends.”

“Until she fucking backstabbed us with that boyfriend of his, what was his name again?”

“Peter Parker,” Bucky answered for MJ. “Parker got jacked up actually, have you seen his abs?”

“Now I’m suddenly thinking you might be gay, Mr. Barnes,” I whispered, shoving my elbow against his rib playfully – causing him to wince. I hear Natasha chuckling quietly from the scene and sipping from her wine glass, looking away.

Eventually, I realized that I did that on purpose. To make her laugh and see that I do not love him nor worship him and that I was all hers instead of his. I could continue to show my love for her like this, out in the open.

“Peter fucking Parker,” MJ mumbled to herself, grabbing one stick of cigarette that was on the middle of the table. She borrowed Natasha’s lighter and puffed out smoke in the air. “I’ve always had feelings for her.”

“You had feelings for Felicia?” I asked and she nodded. “Wait, how come I didn’t know about this?”

“Us gay people are good at hiding it,” Natasha butts herself in, looking at me with a slight grin on her face. “I say you did a pretty good job at hiding it.”

“Well, thanks for that.”

While Bucky had his arm around me as we ate and engaged in a number of new conversations, I could feel the woman's glare. She took one final bite of her steak before leaving to use the restroom. I desperately wanted to go after her and confess my love to her, but I knew that would endanger our relationship. Instead, I see her stepping away from the table while slightly hunching her back. “You're making it obvious, Y/n,” Bucky said as he continued to pull me in. “Stop it.”

It cringes me that he knew so quickly that I was in love with my father’s best friend.

“Are you two together now?” my father asked with a huge grin on his face that purely disgusts me how he thinks that way, that I was supposed to be in love with Bucky instead of Natasha. “Bucky, did she say yes?”

“Yes to what exactly?" They both looked at me with intriguing eyes that scared me away as my curiosity took over. What could he possibly be talking about–

“That you’re Bucky’s girlfriend,” dad slowly said with a frown. “Did you not say yes?”

What?!

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about–”

“I haven’t asked her yet,” Bucky murmured to my father, and he looked at me with an apologetic look. “Y/n, I was going to ask you–”

“You know how I feel about you, Buck,” I whispered to him, eyeing everyone else at the table with my heart pounding like crazy. It was like I was being humiliated or being used like another toy, just like how my mother would use me when I still lived with her. I looked at my father one last time before giving him that look that I had never used on him before. “And you know that I’m not ready for any of this.”

“But I thought…” his word drifted, just like how my trust drifted away as well. “I thought we felt the same way?”

Don’t act like you know my love for Natasha.

“Can we not do this here?" I got to my feet and wiped my skirt. “I’ll be in my room.” I started walking to the other house and started crying before he could utter a word. He would never make me happy, let alone if I tried to discover my feelings for him. He should be my boyfriend—never her. But the fact remains that she will always be the culprit, and that hurts.

Because I know that it’s impossible to love someone in secret.

Being by yourself by the lake is quiet and sentimental. I enjoy bringing my books here, and occasionally Bucky too. But following that event that afternoon, I made the decision that I could no longer bring him here. I tried to forget what had happened as I frantically read through the pages of my book. As I've learned from Cris, our housekeeper, Natasha has left with Steve. What were they doing, perhaps getting another drink at a bar with some people their age? I could never know, I never understood the meaning behind that.

As I close my eyes, I can feel like someone was walking toward me. When I opened the lids of my eyes, Natasha was right in front of me, with a solemn look on her face – as if she was sorry for what happened a while ago. She sat down beside me and gave me a peck on the head.

“I heard what happened a while ago,” I sighed as she whispered that statement to me. Of course, MJ has told her. “Did Bucky hurt you?”

“Not physically.”

“What happened then, dove?”

“I don’t have the energy to tell you, Tash.”

While lying down next to me and watching the wind-blown tree leaves, she sighed. I felt her hand entwined with mine, but I did not object because I sort of like it when she does these things without saying them out loud. She looked at me, and asked: “What did he say?”

“Something with ‘I was supposed to ask you to become my girlfriend'," but I made a dramatic walk out,” I answered briefly. “I mean, he knew about us, but why would he even ask that question? He knows I’d say no.”

“Maybe Steve planned this,” she reasoned, which made me turn my head a little to look her in the eye. “I mean, Steve loves you both. He wants to see you two as a pair, so I assume maybe he gave Bucky his blessing or he told him to get you as his girlfriend.”

“I thought Dad wanted the best for me.”

“And I’m sure he does, baby girl…” her hand crept inside of my tank top and pulled my body closer to her, our noses touching – without a word. “He does. It’s just that… he doesn’t really know what your heart wants.”

My heart screams for you, my body wants you. Every part of me wants you and only you.

“Do you love me?” I asked her with an unmelodic voice. I pressed our noses together hard and begged, “Do you love me? Tell me you love me, Tasha. Tell me that you do.”

Natasha cups the right side of my face and pulls me into a french kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth that I could’ve sworn I let out a guttural moan. I didn't pull away nor push her away, I let her in. She whispered breathlessly, “I love you more than the words described.”

“Then show me,” I begged once again as I trailed my hand down into her brown shorts, feeling her erection against the palm of my hand. She moans into my mouth and drags me closer to her, grunting each time I stroke her cock in her confinement. “Show me that you love me, Tasha.”

“You want me to show you, huh?” her hands hurriedly pulled down her shorts along with her boxers as her cock pokes out in the air, precum leaking from its head. She grabbed my hand and wrapped it around her length, her eyes fluttering close as I dragged the skin downward. “Oh fuck, your hand feels so warm…”

Our tongues danced as I slowly pumped her cock. I could feel her spitting saliva into my mouth, pleading with me to swallow it. As soon as I did, she softly pinched my right nipple with her hand concealed inside my tank top while licking the roof of my mouth. Everything felt at peace – pure silence and bliss. I couldn’t ask anything for more.

“Touch me,” she whispered with a weary tone, dragging her lips down to my chest. I realized that she was begging, she had never begged before in my presence. “Touch me harder, go faster with your hand.”

I’d never touched a cock before in my life until she came around. At first, I had no idea how to use my hand. Whether I should just lick the tip of her cock or bring her to orgasm with my hand. But as I get skillful with every part of my body, I already know how to pleasure her – yet it feels all new to me as if I’ve never touched anyone in my life.

It was just me and her, in my little world.

The sloshing sounds filled our area and were not audible as I jerked her cock off, and she stared directly into my face. I couldn't help but stoop down and suck all of her pre-cum into my mouth as the tip of her penis started to turn this sort of purplish color. Despite how bitter it tasted, I savored every last drop of her juice. It almost had a sweet-bitter flavor that resembled glazed donuts. My head was touched by her hand as she pushed me deeper into her long cock while groaning in pain from the chokehold.

“That’s a good girl,” she stuttered, her breathing hitching each time I gagged while taking her cock into my throat. She slowly lifts her hips and starts to thrust into my mouth, making me let out choking sounds. “Use your tongue baby, fuck–your mouth is so wet, I could be in your mouth forever…”

Forever, you say? What about your feelings for me? Would that be forever too?

The way she uses her words too, I could go on forever about how much I’ve loved her talking like that with me.

When my nose was pressed against her pelvis, I knew that her cock was all the way into my mouth – and I could barely breathe because of it. So I pulled out quickly and let my saliva dribble onto her cock. I watch as it twitches in my hand, and I gradually pull the skin of her dick all the way down before bringing it back up, pushing out more precum from her. She flexes her stomach as I continue to do this, whispering: “What else do you want me to do, Daddy?”

“J-Just keep sucking on it,” she softly demands, I could not resist. So I put her penis back into my mouth and started to bob my head up and down, my tongue pressing against her rod. “Oh yeah… that’s so good. Your tongue feels so good, baby. A-Ah–”

I could feel the sun burning into the back of my neck, yet I didn’t care. I continued to devour her cock, slurping and licking every bit of it. She throws her head back and thrusts into my mouth in a shallow pace, making my face all puffy and red. “More, more…” she said. “Need to fucking blow into your mouth, let me cum in your mouth?”

I nodded vigorously as I massaged her balls, her moans turning into a whine. She prompts both of her elbows on the grass as she watches me bobbing my mouth up and down, savoring every taste that she has. Natasha bites her lower lip, almost causing me to draw blood, and continues to thrust slowly into my mouth.

I pulled away with a wet pop and jerked her length while kissing the tip of it. “Are you going to cum soon, Daddy?”

“Uh-huh…” she nodded, scooting closer as she got closer to her high. “I’m going to cum soon baby, j-just stick out your tongue!”

I did what I was told to do, bringing my tongue out as she rapidly jerked herself off, her hooded eyes staring at my mouth rather than at my eyes. She humps the air until her hips stiffen, screaming quietly: “I’m cumming! I’m–Oh god…”

My eyes began to close as I felt her sperm splash onto my mouth, then open again as some of it landed on my nose and then my eyes. Her world is filled with rainbows and other forms of happiness as she sprawls out on the grass during an explosive orgasm. I sat next to her and used her boxers as a tissue to wipe off the cum from my face. She hugged me tightly while her bottom was completely exposed, looking at me with guilt in her eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I liked it.”

“I would make love to you here but…” her words trailed off when she looked over her shoulder, the house was a few feet away from the lake. “Maybe in your room this time?”

She gave me a tight hug as I giggled in her arms. How could I ever let this go over a boy when I’m truly happy with another person? She was my happy place forever, and this was my happy place. My eternal crush on a woman. We talked and laughed for another hour while we were sitting by the lake, remembering all the other experiences we had as a couple. Perhaps I should consider moving away with her so that I don't have to live in this neglectful environment, that I call home.

As soon as we got back, my friends were inside the house. I looked at Bucky at first, then Felicia since I haven’t seen her in so long. She smiled at me and gave me a warm hug – I gladly accepted it.

“I haven’t seen you in a really long time, Y/n.” she contemplated with a sigh. “I’ve missed my best friend.”

“Don’t steal her away from me,” Bucky mentions with a chuckle, dragging the cigarette away from his mouth while his eyes were on Natasha. I looked at them both, and I noticed that Natasha wasn’t looking at him but instead, looked at Felicia. “What did you do with your Auntie?”

Of course, he would sound condescending. But I couldn’t get mad at him right now, not in front of everyone who is watching us both. So I replied with a nonchalant tone, “We just sat by the lake, anything wrong with that?”

He shook his head slowly, examining my body as if he might find something that would be evidential that I gave Natasha a hard blow job.

He didn’t inspect anything, I was too good at this.

“Nothing at all, pretty girl.”

“You should go to my party tonight,” Felicia happily shook both sides of my arms, squealing with excitement. “Everyone will be there! There will be drinks, music, and loads of other stuff! You know I’m great at hosting parties.”

“That I do remember,” I chuckled, kissing her cheek. “I’ll have to dress up first, you guys should go ahead.”

I watch as they all leave, including Bucky, before I can walk to Natasha. We both knew, for some reason, that I would never be his when he turned to look back. I wish I could have chosen him instead, and it does break my heart that I can't. But I also want to be with someone who makes me feel complete and important. After everyone left, Natasha pulled me into an embrace while sighing into my neck. She seemed to have been waiting for this, so I happily gave it to her. A simple hug has the potential to become something magical.

“I’ll never let you go,” she whimpered. “Just don’t let me go too, okay?”

We gave each other a tight hug as I nodded and kissed her. I noticed she was wearing the kind of woodsy fragrance I liked from her as soon as I smelled her. But I was unable to fully explain it because saying anything more would be overwhelming. I don’t ever want to slip away from her, and I knew that I won’t if there was a time that my father would find out about us both.

“I promise.”

“I know.” she sighed and kissed my mouth with no agony, no torture.

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x you #black widow x reader #I Want You Series #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff smut

[sissylittlefeather]

Celebration prompt request. #14 I know this hurts. With E (Vegas elvis) and smut

Heyyyyy anon! I know these requests kinda got lost in the new series I started, but I haven't forgotten you! I hope you enjoy this 😉

Prompt: "I'm sorry; I know this hurts." with '69-'73 Vegas Elvis

For your 24th birthday, your friends decided to surprise you with tickets to see Elvis Presley in Vegas. They knew you were a huge fan. They also knew you'd never go by yourself, so they tagged along to make sure you'd take full advantage of the opportunity.

On the night of the show, you're decked out to the nines in your favorite mini dress and boots, makeup done just right. You're staring at yourself in the mirror, trying to make sure nothing is missing.

"Y/n, you look perfect, now let's GO!" Your friends practically drag you out of the hotel room. They know you'll be nervous, so they want to make sure you get there in time to get to your seats. What they didn't tell you is that they've bought tickets for the front row. When you get settled, you turn to them frantically.

"We're so close! What if he sees us?"

"That's the goal, sweetie!" They laugh and tap their drinks against yours.

After what feels like a lifetime, Elvis finally comes out on stage. Every ounce of nervousness leaves your body as he starts to sing. His voice has always been a comfort to you and hearing him sing in person is unlike anything you've ever experienced. You're completely hypnotized by his movements and the sound of his voice. So much so that you don't even notice when he comes out to the edge of the stage and looks directly at you.

That's when you realize your friends are gesturing wildly.

"Elvis, it's her birthday!" They point to you and beckon him to come over. You don't think much of it.

But then he does. He walks straight to you, pulling the red scarf from his neck. Your friends stand you up and push you to the stage. Your heart is pounding and you're not sure you'll be able to stay standing.

"Is it your birthday, honey?" Your hands are shaking and your voice seems to have disappeared, so you nod your head. He throws the scarf around your neck and pulls you in close to him.

"Happy birthday, darlin'." Just when you think you might pass out, he leans in and plants a kiss on your lips. Lightning shoots from your fingertips to your center and you swear someone has set off fireworks. He pulls back from the kiss and looks you in the eye. He seems to be shocked by something too and he does something you'd never expect. He leans in and kisses you again. When he finally pulls away, he turns back to you several times on his way back to the center of the stage.

Through the rest of the show, he can't seem to keep his eyes off of you. He does everything like normal, singing, walking around, and kissing fans, but you're the only one he kisses twice. Then, as the curtain comes down, he looks right at you again and winks, making your heart flip flop in your chest.

"Y/n did you see the way he looked at you?!"

"What a birthday present!" Your friends admire the scarf he gave you and gush over his interaction with you. As you're all chattering wildly about the show, a gentleman in a black suit taps you on the shoulder.

"Mr. Presley would like to see you."

"I'm sorry." You can't believe what you're hearing. "Did you say Elvis would like to see me?"

"Yes. Please come with me." You turn to your friends for help.

"I swear, y/n, if you don't go with him right now I will lose my mind. Go!"

"Yes! This is the best birthday ever! Go!" They usher you forward and you follow the man in the suit out of the showroom. He takes you to a private elevator where you ride in silence. You fiddle with the hem of your dress and try not to let your expectations be too high.

"It's your birthday?" The man asks.

"Mhmm."

"How old are you?"

"24." He smiles.

"He'll like that."

Just then the doors open and you follow the man to the living area of the penthouse.

"Have a seat. He'll be here shortly. Can I get you a drink?"

"Oh, um, bourbon on the rocks."

"Now there's a girl that knows what she wants." Elvis's smooth baritone penetrates the room as he enters from a side door. He still has on his white jumpsuit from the show with a towel around his neck. He takes your drink from the man and hands it to you as he approaches you. You knew he was tall, but standing in front of him like this makes you realize just how imposing of a figure he is. You take a big gulp from your drink and he gestures for you to sit down.

"Slow down, birthday girl. Don't need you passing out on me." He chuckles as you finish your drink.

"Sorry. I'm a little nervous."

"I have that effect on people sometimes."

"Thank you... for the scarf..."

"You're welcome, darlin'. Had to give you somethin' since it's your birthday. I'd like to give you somethin' else, if you want it."

"Yes, please." You'll take pretty much anything he's offering.

He puts his hand on the side of your face and leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. You feel the sparks go off again and your heart rate picks up.

He pulls back and kisses you again. This time he pulls you in close to him and parts your lips with his, sliding his tongue into your mouth. The chemistry between you is undeniable and even he notices it. He pulls you around onto his lap straddling him and keeps kissing you deeply. When he reaches for the zipper on the back of your dress, though, you pull back.

"Wait. I'm... I've never..."

"Oh, honey, that's okay. Do you want to stop?" You think for a second.

"No." You dive back into the kiss and press yourself against him.

"I'll be gentle." He whispers in your ear as he kisses down your neck. He stands up with you still wrapped around him and carries you to his bedroom.

Laying you down on the big bed, he unzips your dress and slides it down your body and off.

"Darlin', you are somethin' else." He stares at you hungrily as you lay there in your bra and panties. Climbing on top of you, he puts his hands under your arms and scoots you back to the pillows, kissing down your body to your hips. Then he kisses back up and you arch your back so he can unclasp your bra. When your breasts are free, he sucks on each nipple gently and cups your breasts in his hands. He slides back down to your hips, where he carefully pulls your panties down your legs, dropping them on the floor. Then, he stands up and unzips his jumpsuit, letting it fall to the floor with your panties. Your eyes widen at the sight of his dick as it twitches. He touches himself for a second and then crawls back onto the bed. As he moves toward your center, he carefully opens your legs.

"If you ever want me to stop, baby, just tell me and I will."

You nod, but you can't imagine wanting him to stop. It's like this is exactly what you've been waiting for. He plants soft kisses on the insides of your thighs and runs his finger up your slit.

"Mmm, so wet already darlin'. I'm gonna take good care of ya." You whimper as he leans forward and presses his mouth to your clit. You've never experienced anything like this before and the sensation is almost overwhelming. When he slides one finger into you, you audibly gasp. He pulls back.

"Does that hurt?"

"No." You answer breathily.

"It feels good?"

"Yes." He smiles and goes back to licking over and around your clit, moving his finger in and out of you slowly. He adds a second finger and moans.

"God, baby, you're so tight." You can't respond though because you're too focused on the sensation building between your legs. All you can do is moan loudly. It's beginning to feel like you might explode and your chest is heaving as you try to keep breathing, moans and whimpers escaping your lips in turns.

"Come for me, darlin'. You're right on the edge. I can feel it. Just let go." As he says it, you finally do and waves of pleasure crash over your whole body. You grab the top of his hair and cry out.

"Oh fuck, Elvis, yes!"

"There she is." He smiles again and finishes running his tongue over you.

As he makes his way back up your body, he wipes his face with his hand. Then he kisses your chest and neck again, finally landing at your lips.

"Are you ready for me?"

"Yes, please."

He lines his cock up with your entrance and starts pushing slowly. You grimace a little.

"I'm sorry; I know it hurts."

"No, I'm okay." He keeps pushing slowly as you try to relax around him. You can feel yourself stretch to accommodate his size and it hurts a little, but it also feels incredibly good.

"Oh, shit." He groans as he fills you fully, your tightness driving him absolutely insane. "Are you okay? Can I?"

"Yes! Yes!" You moan again as he starts to pump in and out. You wrap your legs around him as he moves with more and more passion, slamming against you and peppering you with kisses. His hips meet yours over and over again as he watches your breasts bounce with his thrusts. He moves faster and faster, grunting as he pounds into you while you whimper.

Out of nowhere, he stops and rearranges your legs, so that your knees are pressed against his chest as he fucks you. The change in angle makes your fingertips tingle and your eyes roll back. He continues to slam into you, pinning you beneath him with his body. The pleasure is overwhelming again and you feel yourself rushing towards another orgasm.

"Oh, God, ELVIS!" You scream as you come again, the ecstasy crashing into you like a freight train, your legs shaking. A second later, he pulls out and pumps himself with his hand, coming hard on your stomach.

"Fuck, yes, baby." He shudders and rolls over on his back next to you, sweating and breathing heavily. "That was incredible." You don't respond, so he looks at you with genuine concern. "Are you okay?" You look at him and laugh.

"I've literally never been better." He smiles and cups your chin in his hand.

"Happy birthday, darlin'."

Ahem @ccab 😉 something tells me you'll like this one!

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x you #elvis x you

[ponyosmom35]

welcome home - Simon Ghost Riley x reader

pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability series chapter twenty four

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

She was ecstatic to lead Simon inside, to show him around. Unsure where to begin. She turns to something out and notices him carrying the massive package into the house without the slightest hint of struggle. “Where do you want this love?”

“Oh my god just set it here, thank you” she points to the wall “you didn’t have to do that” she responds, rubbing her hands together nervously. 

“No problem” he shrugs, “what have you got that’s so big?”

“Oh uh thats my bookshelf, I’m turning my office into a library” she smiles 

“How were you planning on gettin that to the office?” he teases 

“I hadn’t gotten that far” 

“Noted” he smirks, placing a band on her lower back “I’d love a tour”

“Right!” she squeaks, her face blushing madly at the feeling of his hand.

She shows Simon the kitchen and all the organizing she’d done in her spare time. As she continues throughout the house explaining everything in what to most would be far too much detail, Simon’s heart swelled. He loved to listen to her talk, it was clear she put a lot of thought into making her space feel warm and welcome. Everything he saw, every decoration, wall print, even the paint color all made sense. It was so beautifully her. He’d never felt so instantly comfortable in an unfamiliar space before. 

She shows him her office where the bookshelf would be and explains her vision, clearly unhappy with the current state of the room. She shows him her bedroom and he takes note of her shift in body language and red cheeks. It was reassuring to him that he had such an effect on her. She leads him down to the steps once more and brings him through downstairs and out to the backdoor. She opens it and they step out onto her deck. 

“So this is the backyard, its a work in progress, my parents and I have been working on it. It looks weird now but trust me there’s a vision” she reassures 

“This is beautiful” he notes

The thoughtful placement of the flowers and the nearly completed stone path leading to the gorgeous willow tree. He could see freshly dug holes where her flowers would bloom in the coming weeks. 

“Thank you! I’m really happy with it, after the path my plan is to redo my entire deck, I want to have an area out here where I can sit out here and read” she says 

“That sounds nice” 

“I think so too” she nods before looking up at him “do you wanna go inside and sit, you must be exhausted” 

“Sure” he smiles 

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea, I don’t have beer but I can Instacart some” 

“Water would be nice” 

“Coming right up!” she grabs him a glass of water while he walks into the living room and sits on the couch, taking note of the TV, playing her music on shuffle. After a minute or so she returns with a bowl of oreos. 

“My favorite, thank you love” 

“I know” she muses as she sits on the other side of the couch, sitting with her legs crossed as she leans her head on her hands. 

“How are you?” she asks 

“I should be asking you that question”

“I’m doing good” she admits softly, rubbing her hands together. 

“I’m glad to hear that” his eyes searched hers for any sign that she might not be telling the full truth. 

“Yeah me too, it’s been hard. Nights are the worst but I’m okay, really” she breathes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. He reaches over and grabs her hand, holding it gently in his own. She smiles softly and moves his hand to her cheek, leaning into his warm skin. 

“I missed you” she murmurs 

“You have no idea how hard it was to watch you leave, I wish I could’ve been here sooner” he says 

“I don’t blame you” 

“I should’ve been there, should’ve seen it comin’” he admits, referring to Las Almas.

“Don’t say that Simon, there’s absolutely no way you would’ve known Graves and Shepard were dirty” 

“It’s my job to protect you, and I - I didn’t”

“But you did! You saved my life, as soon as I heard your voice a part of me knew I was gonna be okay, that you weren’t going to let anything happen. I was so fucking scared but I still knew that I was gonna be okay. Nobody in this world makes me feel the way that you do” she replies, her words holding so much more meaning than just that day. Recalling back to every moment she spent with him. “Even now, it’s like all of the nightmares and memories, they’re nothing. Sitting here with you makes me feel protected, I feel more secure than I have in months”

“I feel the same” he admits “This place feels familiar to me, like I’ve been here before”

“That’s because it’s been waiting for you” she nearly whispers, looking at him with all the love in the world “I’ve been waiting for you, for so long” 

“I’m here now” he murmurs as he gently pulls her closer to him, moving the pillow that separated them to the ground. “Don’t plan on leaving anytime soon”

“Really?” she asks hopefully as he places a hand on her face, trialing his thumb from her lips to her jaw. “As long as you’ll have me” he responds 

Simon closes the distance between their lips and kisses her gently. Her hands move to his chest as he pulls her closer. She swings a leg around him and moves to place herself in his lap, with her hands guiding her. As she settles he smirks at the little gasp she lets out at the feeling of him beneath her. His hands fall to her waist, groaning as she involuntarily rocks her body against him. He pulls back and looks at her, smiling softly.

“What?” she asks breathlessly 

“Fucking gorgeous” he says kissing her once more. However this one was much shorter, as he didn’t want things to get too carried away. He pulls her into his chest and holds her there, wrapping his arms around her body as she curls into him. 

“Welcome home Si” she whispers in his ear

Both understood that this was their home. The beginning of their new life together. 

Tag list:@vivi123abc

#simon riley #smut #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #angst #cod x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #141 #task force 141 #cod 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #mw2 141

[infinitebrians]

Favorite Games of 2023 Part Final: Pokemon Crystal Clear Clown Edition

Pokemon Crystal Clear is a romhack for the Gameboy Color game that mainly advertises itself as Pokemon Crystal modified so now it is entirely playable as a free roaming open world. Clown Edition is just what I called the rom of the game after creating and injecting a pokemon trainer sprite sheet into the game so I can play as my own character, Clown. I played the whole game on my New 3ds XL, it took a quite a bit of effort to get this exact version of the game working on my 3ds. It was incredibly worth it, this is not just my favorite game, but favorite 'game experience', and even easily my new pick for all time favorite pokemon game in the series.

The game itself was fun and a refreshing new way to experience a pokemon game but the overall experience of getting the game working on a hacked 3ds and playing with my own created sprites was in itself a very fun bit of hobby work. It has revived my love for playing older games on real hardware, something that I have found myself continuing to do this year. Also, seeing my own art in the game and said art feel cohesive with the world ruled and I want to experience that more in some other way. This game made me more into pokemon than I have felt with official releases in a pretty long while, and I even liked my time playing Scarlet. I loved playing on a handheld, I loved seeing the really well made art from gen 2, and I loved being able to put a bit of myself into the game as well.

Apologies for how rambley this gets, I really liked the game but still somehow found it hard to really organize my thoughts on why exactly.

I wanted to revisit this hack after briefly trying it in 2018 because of this excellent Hazel video (https://youtu.be/96YimpRHQHs). The video details various life stories while talking about favorite locations in the games getting me to think about my own favorite spots in the games and where I was personally at the time. The video also got me to start realizing that Porygon might be one of my favorite pokemon in the series and caused me to make drawings of them that I'm still quite fond of. This then made me recall Crystal Clear which contains a feature of surprisingly deep character customization including a wide selection of possible starter picks one of which being Porygon. So, compelled by the allure of having a fun adventure with a cyber duck, I picked up my hacked 3ds and started the game again.

Crystal Clear is a game that allowed for me to be even more creative about how to approach building my team and creating my own adventure out of playing pokemon. It's not for everyone, it wasn't even for me the first time I tried this game back in 2018. Crystal Clear definitely lends itself much more to the idea of creating your own fun than typical linear pokemon games where if you're not interested in that more free form exploration, the game would feel aimless. I even felt this when starting this playthrough, but the goal of pokedex completion was what encouraged to explore and discover Crystal Clear's world. The game was always surprising me in both the number of quality of life features it provided as well as fun new areas to explore or to better make the world more connected. Over time, the game felt more at home to me from getting more familiar with locations and developing a new sense of fondness for several towns in Johto I frequented. The change from a linear progression to that open ended one gave me a better sense of the world and towns had a bit more life to them as places felt more inviting to hang around in.

I love this game's implementation of the pokedex. It has been designed so it will display just about every piece of information about a pokemon, where to find them, when they evolve, what moves they learn, and so on. While the presentation is definitely clunky due to having to have all of that information on a GBC screen, I found this such an invaluable tool to have in game that for the first time in the entire pokemon series I was heavily making use of the in game pokedex for its intended purpose. Being able to look up relevant information for pokemon all entirely in game without having to have a phone/computer nearby with bulbapedia open all the time is just greatly appreciated. While the desire to keep some mystery around pokemon and how they evolve or what moves they'll learn can be part of the fun with the series, I think I just prefer being able to tell quickly if this is a stone evolution pokemon or not.

This was the first time I ever completed a pokedex in any pokemon game, something I've always wanted to do but never fully committed to the whole process. This is because of my own laziness toward how challenging that always was in proper releases due to so many pokemon being obscured behind multiple games and others being locked behind real world timed events. That or the fact that later games in the series just outright make the the act of getting a truly complete pokedex feel almost impossible. Instead, I finally accomplished a completed pokedex in a romhack that was made to make that sort of challenge feel reasonable with modified drop pools and changed events so everything within that one game is catchable. While now possible, I still found myself challenged with a game world spanning adventure of looking behind every rock, tree, and patch of grass to find every funny little guy I could. One particular memory was me spending maybe a week insisting on finding a dragonite in an encounter to catch which has a 1% chance of happening rather than spending the time leveling and evolving one instead. A very, very long process of hitting a tree over and over but made hilarious when later repeating the process for a tyranitar, another 1% chance encounter rate, was done in minutes. It was really fun having a plan ahead with how I was going to get every pokemon, constantly using expshare and other things to level guys to get them to evolve while try catching other guys. The ultimate reward of that certificate is still a pretty hilariously small, though I still kind of want to figure out a way to print mine out.

What made this game so special to me was simply just adding Clown to it. A simple change that was a surprisingly complicated process of getting a crash course on how GBC color palettes and size limitations worked and getting my hacked 3ds up to date on its software. Creating the various Clown sprite drawings was fun, I always liked working in those sorts of strict limitations. Then finally getting the injection to work and seeing my own art in game on real hardware felt surreal, something in this handheld game console I've had forever, on a game I loved for years has something I made in it. Even the process of getting all of this working, as tedious as it was moving game saves and getting color values just right, made this whole experience more special to me.

Something I figured while playing this as well as also from now having also played Dragon Warrior 1+2 and also currently Final Fantasy 5, I really love playing things on a handheld. Playing games on a handheld device has been so much more compelling of a thing to me than ever than playing on a proper TV/computer. The aspect of being able to just let the console sit on my desk and simply open and close it when interested made the feeling of investing myself into a game so much easier to approach. I want to just keep playing more old games on a handheld now, I'm already planning on other games to play and how I should definitely hack my Vita. My friends keep tempting me with one of those emulator handhelds and I don't even need one but they look really cool though.

I have so much respect for people who make fan works, hacks, and other unofficial projects it has been just amazing to see passion projects happen all the time in the gaming community. Playing this romhack that's been a years long, ongoing project in two different eras (2018 and then again in 2023) of it's existence has only further cemented my admiration. People wanting to be creative and open about their love for this form of art is such a wonderful thing to behold. These moments of creative passion being shared to everyone feels so important, reminding that the projects with the biggest budgets and names are not the end all be all of the medium, despite their desperation to be so. Thank you so much for wanting to share such lovely things with the world.

#drawdogs #art #pixel art #favorite games of 2023 #writing #pokemon #pokemon crystal clear #clown #fonewearl #porygon2 #umbreon #typhlosion #ampharos #scizor #cloyster