#but is that even the case anymore if the agency turns out to be just another organization using her ability for their own gain?

[sugarcarnation]

can’t believe lucy is canonically the queen on dazais chessboard and yet we’ve never even seen them interact

[lovedazai]

WHEN YOU LEAVE TO GO ON A LONG, DANGEROUS MISSION

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo

p.s.! sending hugs + kisses to the lovely anon who requested <3 !! sorry i kinda got carried away :’)

DAZAI

when he’s strategizing and realizes you’re the best suited member of the agency for the mission, his heart drops. he knew being in a relationship with his coworker would come to this eventually, but he’s always been selfish.

he didn't know how he could make it that long without you. he's used to keeping an eye on you, always listening behind his headset, but this time you'd have to be on your own and he hates it.

he pores over the details of the case, forcing the logic to piece together that you’d be okay. he desperately tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him that you’d be taken away from him just like everyone else

it takes every part of him not to cling onto you when he kisses you goodbye. he sends you off with a smile, and it drops as soon as you’re gone, a stiff frown settling in its place.

there’s a noticeable emptiness without you around. his futon, just barely able to fit the two of you wrapped around each other, suddenly feels too big, and he can’t sleep.

instead, he stares at the moon and wonders if you were as restless as him, looking at it too. it made him feel connected to you, even if you weren’t doing the same.

he talks to you about his day as if you were next to him, just to ignore the crippling loneliness he thought he’d starved off for good.

he acts out more than usual, overcompensating for his lack of attention, even if it came in the form of a hard smack to the head from kunikida.

his stomach gurgles angrily at him, and he realizes there isn’t anyone around to make him a proper dinner anymore. he can’t be bothered to cook and falls back into old habits, opening bottles of sake and cans of crab. he knows you’d be mad if you were there, and the thought of you scolding him to take better care of himself makes him smile.

dazai hums as he flips through his suicide book, words familiar enough that he didn’t bother turning on a light to read them. he knew you’d be back home any day now. your message to the agency that you were safe had lifted a weight from him, but he wouldn’t be completely satisfied until you were in his arms again.

he pauses when he hears the lock turn in the door, sitting up with big, blinking eyes. its felt like an eternity without you, it almost feels unreal that you could really be back.

when he sees you in the doorway, he can’t even bare to move. his face breaks out in a lovesick grin, and he opens his arms wide. your suitcase is abandoned in the doorway as you run to him, knocking him back against the soft cushion of his futon.

his hands cradle your head, kissing you everywhere he can reach. “i’m so happy you’re home,” he still isn’t used to saying that word. “i missed you so much it nearly killed me.” his lips are curled into a smile when he nuzzles into your chest. he shakily exhales when you gently scratch against his scalp as he intertwines his legs with yours, pulling himself closer to you.

“i missed you too,” he’s so happy to hear it, his cheeks ache from smiling so hard. “were you okay while i was gone?”

“shhh,” he holds a finger up to your lips, suppressing a shiver when you kiss his fingertips. “that doesn’t matter now, my love! can’t we just enjoy being together again?” he hears you sigh, and he knows you see right through his poor attempt at deflecting, but it doesn’t matter, not when he finally has you in his arms again.

CHUUYA

when he hears the news, he assumes he's going with you. it’s no big deal, he’s actually kind of excited. when mori tells him otherwise, he thinks it’s some kind of joke.

he knows it can’t be helped, but he’s still pissed, thinking of being without you for so long, not knowing if you were safe. he doesn’t even want to think of something bad happening to you, but the thought creeps into his mind, dark and icky.

the last thing he wants is for you to think he doesn’t trust you, so he keeps his anxieties inside, helps you pack, and reluctantly kisses you goodbye. it takes a few muttered “just one more?”s before he finally lets you go.

it takes a while for him to adjust to you being away, and he desperately hopes he never has to get used to it again.

he has to stop himself from grabbing two wine glasses each night when he comes home, putting yours back with a resentful frown.

he hugs your pillow in place of you each night, hoping you come back before your scent leaves.

he lights your favorite candles, plays your favorite songs, finds himself ordering your favorite take-out just to have pieces of you around.

when he finishes a job and comes home with cracked, bleeding knuckles, he bandages them alone, pain so much worse without your kisses to make it better.

chuuya had long since left his spot on the couch, pacing back and forth in his living room. your flight had landed, and it was only a matter of time before you arrived home.

he runs to the door as soon as he hears the knob turn. he doesn’t even let you put your bags down before he’s wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you against him. “i missed you so fuckin’ much.” he presses his lips to yours, practically melting into you when you bury your fingers in his hair. “how are you?” he pulls away, looking you up and down. “are you hurt anywhere?”

you shake your head, giving him that smile he’s missed so much. he picks you up, holding your thighs as your arms circle around his neck, your bags floating behind him with his ability. “what d’you want? bed? bath? i’ll get you anything.”

“just want you.” you mumble into his neck. the answer knocks the air out of him, and he forces himself to take a deep breath, holding you even tighter. he drops the bags in front of the closet, and scoots back against the bed, sitting against the headboard, still cradling you in your arms. you’re already halfway asleep, exhausted from the plane ride home.

“get comfortable,” he presses a kiss to your temple, floating your favorite blanket closer. “‘cause i’m not letting you go again.”

RANPO

he didn’t care much for the details of the mission, until it was decided that you were going.

he’d thrown somewhat of a tantrum, demanding for fukuzawa to change his mind, but he knew it was useless; you were the only one in the agency who could pull it off.

he can’t even brag about how badass his s/o is when it comes at the cost of you leaving him.

when it’s time for you to go, he resists the urge to cling to your leg like a child and beg for you to stay. instead, he hugs you tightly, imprinting the feeling of your body in his. “come back safe,” he whispers, nose nuzzling into your neck. “please.”

he’s especially grumpy when you’re gone. he eats his breakfast by himself with a pout, apartment eerily quiet, food not nearly as good as it was when you cooked it.

he hates how much space there is in your tiny bathroom without your body next to his while he gets ready for work, glaring at your untouched shoes in the genkan on his way out.

and how exactly is he supposed to sleep well when he doesn’t even get a goodnight kiss??

cases thrown to the side for being too boring are now accepted; anything to keep his mind off of you not being around, or worse, you getting hurt.

he still buys your favorite snacks, an accumulating pile on your desk waiting for you when you return (he only eats a few of them)

ranpo knows exactly when you’ll be arriving home. he checks the time persistently, bouncing his feet as it gets closer. he doesn’t even wait for you to get settled; as soon as you’re through the door, he jumps into your arms, wrapping his legs around you like an oversized koala bear. “well?” he looks up at you, not bothering with greetings. “what are you waiting for? you have a lot of kisses to make up for, you know!”

he beams as you scatter kisses across his cheeks, dimpled from his big smile. you place a final one on his lips, putting him down to search through your bag. you say something about foreign snacks, but he can’t pay attention, his childish impatience gnawing at him. he’d been so deprived of your attention, and now that you’re here, you’re already distracted.

he wraps his arms around your back, forehead resting against the middle of your shoulder blades. “don’t leave again,” he says quietly; if it wasn’t for the silence of the room, you might not have heard him. “it’s not fair for me to be alone for so long.”

“i know,” you turn around to face him, and he crawls into your lap as soon as you do, his green eyes wide open. “i missed you.”

he peeks at you through his bangs. “how much?”

“so, so, so much.”

he smiles, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm before he intertwines it with his own. his thoughts of i didn’t know what to do without you are left unsaid. now that you’re back, he swears he isn’t leaving your side again, and there’s plenty of time for him to show you just how much he missed you.

BSD MASTERLIST

[bcacstuff]

As you can imagine after last night's post, my inbox is flooded with message. It was already flooded on Wednesday after the article on JJ appeared, I showed you in a video. After I recorded that video the messages kept on coming in and after last night a 100-150+ more.

You got it, even if I wanted to, I simply can't answer you all. Many are similar to what I wrote, to the comments on that post, diverse opinions, expressions and more of that.

I do not wish to go on and on and on about this subject. I showed you what I had to show and tried to do so in the most appropriate but honest way. I left a warning in the middle that from there things were not going to be pretty. I can not make them prettier than they are. I showed you the facts like they are out there, you can try to ignore them, or stick your head in the sand. You can try to explain it away to fit your narrative, but the facts are going to stay there. They wont go away. It simply is what it is.

I do want to address some messages I received though, mostly echoing very naive things clearly coming from another blog. I have issues with that, as it obviously tries to twist facts out there for everyone to see and some in a very nasty way dragging Cait into this.

Saying Cait's picture is also on x rated websites is a lame, poor, ridiculous excuse to try and make it look like this girl isn't an escort, or that her pictures are stolen and put on these sites. Sorry, not sorry... if you can not tell the difference between Cait's web presence and that of an escort girl, you're a lost case sticking your head deep in the sand and ignoring the facts. Cait has nothing - I repeat nothing whatsoever to do with this whole mess.

She's not a model, a model shows her work on her IG, has an agency in her profile, and shows what brands she promotes. none of that can be found on her IG. You need to be blindfolded not to see how her IG already reeks towards the profession she earns her shown designer stuff and travels with. And a simple look at the persons she follows, the comments on her posts, her interactions tells you the rest. I mean, just one; a name like dubaichampagnepapi with a shady agency and a private club in Dubai tells you enough. I can go on and on, but as said (and as said in my initial post) I don't want to blow things up unnecessary. I don't need to show you ten more escort sites where she is listed all with different pics. It doesn't add more to the proof. Nuf said

I do not have any need to convince you, please keep your head in the sand and stay on the blog of your liking. Don't bother to sent me all these blind excuses, or ignorant echoing a certain blogger. Learn to use your own brain.

That also goes for the ones trying to excuse Sam on all kind of possible ways. Sorry, he created this mess himself. He didn't meet that woman by chance in a bar and then walked out of the bar holding her hand. Sorry, that is just plain naive, you got to admit that to yourself. These women do not hang out in a bar in Soho London. They go to Mayfair, shisha lounges, smoking water pipes, like the one LM posted last night. Just take a look at those sort of bars, you wont find Sam in there, that much I know.

It's not a crime what he did, it's just not looking that good and he surely knows it, hence he turned of the tags on his IG for the ones he doesn't follow. He isn't the first and he wont be the last. It was just not a very smart move. No need to blow it up though. We wont see anymore of that woman of that I'm sure.

I'm not sure yet, I might find some Anon messages perhaps tonight or over the weekend that I would like to answer, address or post. But please let's keep it all within normal perks and don't get overboard with things.

Thank you!

[strikethematch18]

I Want You

Dazai x Reader

word count: 2,001

TW: Mentions of homelessness, loss of home, housing insecurity

Reader ability is not specified.

This has not been proofed or edited

Reader has recently been evicted from her run down apartment with a weeks notice, and has problems trying to find temporary housing. She strikes out with every coworker, but leaves one out thinking it would be an automatic no.

m.list

The process of finding a place to live was much harder than you originally thought. After your apartment building was being shut down and you were forced to move by the end of week, you found yourself in a scramble to find a place to go. You didn't have much, being at the agency, you didn't spend much time in your apartment anyhow.

You did the next logical thing you could do to help your situation. You talked to the president of the ADA, see if he could point you in a direction of options, maybe the agency had a dorm available until you could figure out a more permanent solution. Unfortunately, since Atsushi had started there were no vacant apartments and he was unaware of any other buildings within your budget or could get you in as quick as you needed. He did suggest you speak to your coworkers if you could stay with one of them temporarily, and he would start with Yosano.

And you did, you traveled to the agency infirmary and asked her. Unfortunately, she was unable to allow you due to the hazards of her near fatal tools, it wouldnt be safe. From there she suggested asking someone else. With a forced smile you left and felt your stress increase tenfold.

Once you made it back to your cubical, Kunikida handed you a case file and left it to you take care of. This took you the rest of the day and returned when nearly everyone already left the office. You left for home with a sigh, prepared to start your search again tomorrow.

Upon arrival you kicked your shoes off and started the packing process. Leave the most essential items until the end, but you could start with things you didn't need everyday. Laying out outfits for the remaining time you'd need, you started folding clothes and putting them in a bag. Then came most HBA, you could just wear your hair up and hair wash day wasn't until after your move anyways, that just left soap and some hair ties. Your kitchen had the bare essentials you'd need to eat and cook, but more often than not it was fruit or cup of noodles. After analyzing what you would need to pack you took your evening shower and went to bed.

The next day started as it always does just earlier than normal. You wanted to get into the agency before as many of your coworkers as possible to not raise suspicion of your bag of clothes and toiletries. The hiding spot wasn't the most hidden, but it wouldn't be in the way and obvious either. Arriving at work, you somehow managed to just barely show up before kunikida, stuffing your bag under your desk before he could see. While you needed to move and find a place to live, you didn't want people to see how dire the situation really is.

It was a relatively slow day, a stray case here and there, some allowed you to go with your coworkers and have one on one conversations. Given the opportunity you'd ask if you could stay with them until you could find another place. So far, you were striking out.

Over the week you had collectively been bringing you things to the agency before you couldn't anymore and still had nowhere to go by the end of the day.

You couldn't impose on the brother sister duo of the Tanizaki's, so you didn't ask.

You briefly asked Kenji but stopped yourself due to his young age and mannerisms.

Kunikida turned you down due to you staying would impose on his strict schedule where everything was planned to the last second, and no where in it did it leave space for you to crash until you found a place.

Word got around to Atsushi who said he would offer but with him sharing with Kyouka, there wasn't much space.

Asking Ranpo was probably one of the worst things you could do so you didn't. And you were sure he already knew anyways.

Today your tenancy was up, all your things in the agency under your desk with no where to go. You felt so alone and unwanted even though everyone had their reasons. The only option you had was crashing at your desk or finding a street, and the desk seemed more appealing. No one asked if you had actually found a place to go for at least tonight, or maybe they assumed you did. Making up a lie that you were staying late to finish some paperwork, everyone went to their respected living arrangements. All except the former mafia executive who had been watching you and saw past your smiles and knew your nervous ticks. Dazai was the only one you hadn't asked, you just assumed it would be an automatic no and you'd already had enough rejection for the week.

You were under the guise he had left for the evening but he had instead getting something from down the hall. So you finally took a large blanket from a bag under your desk to wrap around yourself, slipped your shoes off and turned sideways in your chair and pulled your feet up to hug your knees. Finally you let the mask slip along with some tears and silent shudders. In your moment of weakness you failed to notice the bandaged man standing in the door way with a deep frown on his face. He was expecting you to possibly break at some point, but not this soon. Watching your breathing pick up he broke his trance and walked over and placed his hand on your shoulder. Not expecting anyone you flinched and looked up to see none other than Dazai himself.

Of course to save face you did your best to wipe your face of any tears and hide any sniffles trying to put the mask back on. You knew it was pointless but pretending things were fine had become your specialty recently.

Giving a strained smile and clearing your throat you addressed the dark haired man, "Hey Dazai, I thought you already went home when everyone else did, you usually leave early."

"Not today, I thought I would stay a little longer for once."

Honestly, he was staying because he knew you didn't have a place to go tonight, and the one thing he couldn't figure out was why you didn't come to him, and he planned to ask but was waiting until the right time.

"Any particular reason for acting out of character?" You asked with a forced smile.

Really what you wanted was for him to go home so you could try to sleep in your bed of an office chair until further notice. More than anything though you wanted the mask to slip, the week was exhausting physically, but also mentally and emotionally. And stopping and restarting that mask made it increase tenfold. He could see your exhaustion which was precisely why he didn't leave.

"Just reasons, thought maybe I could set up a prank of Kunikida for when he comes in tomorrow morning. and what reason do you have to be here late Y/N, curling up in your chair like that doesn't seem like working to me," he sing songedly replied.

Just for a moment you let the smile fade from your face before you forced the facade back on, "I thought maybe I could take a bit and get comfy for a break."

"There's no work on your desk."

"I'm in-between tasks right now"

"And the bags you've been hiding under your desk and around the agency over the last week?" He suddenly turned slightly monotone.

Apparently he had figured you out. It was too hard to keep the smile from slipping, but you tried nonetheless. It was hard to notice, and had you been anyone else, you wouldn't have seen the slight grimace he gave watching you try to portray something you weren't. He knew what was going on and you didn't even have to tell him, and he couldn't help but wonder why you didn't come clean.

You were unable to formulate a response, you knew it was pointless to try and fool him. He was too smart for that, too perceptive. So you did the only thing you could think of in the moment, you looked down and let your loose hair that fell out of your slightly oily bun ages ago, cover your face. There was nothing you could say, you didn’t even know why you even tried to hide your reasoning for being at the office well after closing from the Osamu Dazai.

Dazai removed his hand on your shoulder and moved it slowly towards your face, tucking the curtain of hair in front of it behind your ears one side of a time before placing two fingers under your chin and nudging it up to look at him. He was surprisingly startled by the silent tears falling down your face, leaving tracks behind. For once he doesn’t think logically, in fact he doesn’t think at all as he moves his hand to your cheek before using his thumb, wiping your tears away. That’s all it takes for you to crumble into broken pieces as your shoulder begin to shake.

”Dazai?”

He simply hums in response, desperate to not lose eye contact with you.

“How come n-no one wants m-me?” You can’t help but shudder out.

Eye contact be damned, he knew your starvation for physical touch, he knew because he was the same. He buffered for a moment at your question before he threw his arms around you, pressing you tightly into his frame as you cried, let out your shudders and whimpers in a safe space.

And he wasn’t accepting any of this, he wasn’t going to let you wallow in your own pity, ashamed of being found out for something out of your control. Dazai knew what that was like, before he had joined the mafia he had already been a master at hiding it; the only one who saw right through him was Chuuya and that ship had sailed a long time ago. So no, he was not going to let you suffer in silence anymore than you had over the past week. Not when he knew he had an answer.

Before he could stop himself, and after a few minutes as you calmed down he finally responded, “I do.”

Looking up and blinking at him like an owl you’re not quite sure you heard him right, “What?”

With a tone of certainty he repeated himself, “I do. I want you.”

Your mouth slightly agape as he took a breath to pause before continuing, “Stay with me. Come home with me.”

”I- Dazai.”

”You never asked me, why?”

”I just - I thought- I had already been rejected enough and the idea of another-“

”Would have been the straw that broke you,” he finished for you.

”Yeah.”

Before he gave you the option to decline, he grabbed the last bag you brought in this morning, obviously all the stuff you needed day to day, and put it on his shoulder. Dazai then proceeds to grab your hand, pulling you up and starts to drag you across the room.

”Dazai wait!”

“Nope, no time like the present m’lady. It’s late, want to get home before all the creepers come out to play!”

”No Dazai seriously, I need to put my shoes back on,”

Immediately he stops, runs back to your desk to gab the shoes underneath it, and proceeds to come back and kneel in front of you, forcefully putting your shoes back on your feet. All with a shit-eating grin on his face.

You gasp as he grabs your hand again and pulls you towards the stairs,

”I-Dazai-“

”Osamu.” His tone strong and serious as he interupts you.

”What?”

”Osamu. If we’re going to live together, call me by my given name.”

“Thank you, Daz- Osamu.”

[elizais]

hi! can you do a little something like if dazai and reader knew each other in the PM and stay together and go to the agency? not like a fic thing more like a short little thing of all of the ada together! if not don't worry x

of course!! i love requests 🩷🩷

"remember this one?"

osamu dazai x fem!reader established relationship, reader was in PM with dazai, fluff warnings: ??

everyone knew of you and dazai both being from the port mafia, it was rarely brought up anymore. the agency enjoyed having a big group hang out every few weeks at someone's place, nothing over the top but it usually ended up in a couple of arguments over a board game. (monopoly ended up being banned for a year after kunikida and dazai got into a screaming match at yosano's place.)

and tonight, it was yours and osamu's turn to host. at some point during the work day, ranpo suggested unsolved cases online. nothing serious, just thefts. and that was the plan!

everyone was turning up in casual clothes, kunikida being the first to arrive. osamu greeting him at the door of a home he had certainly not expected to belong to dazai. how you two were together was also a mystery to the man. how you could put up with him? nobody knew.

when kunikida was admiring the interior, osamu read his mind and answered his unspoken question with, "when you are an executive in the mafia you get good savings, kunikida-kun!" he smiled.

"where is y/n?" kunikida asked dazai as he was getting kunikida a drink. "she's gone to grab ranpo, and to approve of whatever cases he wanted to solve. to make sure he doesn't get too out of hand for a relaxed evening."

kunikida and dazai simply watched tv as they waited for everyone else, dazai trying to gossip but kunikida shutting him down immediately. you and the others all walked in with a box in hand with the cases. the only person who couldn't make it being fukuzawa as he was meeting with a friend.

"osamu? can you get everyone drinks please?" you asked as he and kunikida walked towards you and your group. "of course, bella!" he smiled before asking everyone what they wanted and grabbing the snacks.

everyone made themselves at home as you and atsushi chose a case, a comfortable silence between the two of you as you flicked through the large thefts that were forgotten about years ago. "how is this one, y/n?" atsushi spoke as he shown you some papers conjoined with a paperclip. the summary being two unknown teens stealing miscellaneous objects from an office. roughly amounting to $2000 in damages.

not looking over it too thoroughly, "looks good!" you spoke as everyone else filtered into the living space.

although ranpo was the one who suggested it, he knew it would be you and him gossiping whilst everyone else racked their brains over why they would have done it. and that was just what had happened!

everyone else was trying to figure out who and why as it just seemed weird to steal stationary and other random items!

you and ranpo were sat on one of the couches talking as everyone else was sat in a circle on the floor in front of you with paperwork being passed around.

"so.. did you hear about-" ranpo begun, trying to gossip about the cafe's workers drama before getting cut off by osamu tapping you on the knee from where he sat on the floor with the others cross legged.

" 'donna! remember this??" he shown you the photo caught on cctv that was incredibly blurry whilst giggling. squinting, you took the piece of paper before letting out an "ohh! yeah, of course i do!" quiet enough so only osamu and ranpo would hear.

the photo showing an approximately 15 year old boy dressed in a suit with bandages over his eye, black dress pants with a white shirt and a black tie. next to him, a young girl close in age who was smiling and wearing a long black coat too big for her and also formally dressed, carrying a bunch of staplers.

ranpo didn't tell the rest of the group and neither did you two, laughing quietly as they got incredibly frustrated with how it seemed that the thieves done it just to confuse people (which is exactly why you both done it).

would you ever tell people that you both done these thefts as teens whenever you were bored? maybe. but tonight while everyone was stumped? not a chance.

a/n! the poll for bf!chuuya has been written but is in my drafts for tomorrow for those who voted for him. i will do more polls in the future but school has started again and homework/sports are heavy rn !!

reblogs are appreciated and covered in glitter

[emptyjunior]

The concept of Riz dying decades or in some cases Centuries before his friends is too sad for me, anyways Riz isekai/regression au. 

So Riz, at the end of his life, I assume a decorated private investigator, maybe in and out of many agencies until he like unearthed corruption in them and got kicked out, you know just general Riz stuff.  

I think he would honestly get Jacked, but in like a wiry way, I think by the time he was old his combat sense and powers of deduction would be Insane even if his body cannot keep up with his mind anymore. 

And then I assume he’d die peacefully in bed OR in a dramatic and horrifying conspiracy, possibly on a sinking boat or a waterfall, that all his friends would have to investigate in his honour. 

So Riz dead, gone, finally at peace. 

Or at least he Thinks, BEEP BEEP annoying sound of alarm clock waking him up for his first day of school. 

Chronomancy is most likely to blame. 

So general premise is Riz instantly goes from an awkward teen scrambling to solve his babysitter’s disappearance, with no resources or social skills, twitchy and underfed to a calm and seasoned detective. I think that morning when Sklonda goes to see where he is, he’s made her breakfast, bacon and pancakes. And as she sits down in shock at the table, he quietly slides a file over to her which is every active case she’s working on, methodically solved with notes and clearly explained timelines to the culprit. And if she turns it over to the back, there’s also a resignation letter in there and an application to law school ready to be filled out. And when Sklonda looks up at Riz shaken, he just gives her a kiss on the forehead and a smile like he’s seeing someone he hasn’t seen for many years and then calmly goes to class. 

I also want: 

-Dealing with bullies that first day like Ragh and Fabian like he’s greeting loved ones. Darting out of their attempts to grab him with a dancer’s flourish that he could have only learnt from a high elf... 

-I think Fabian would be a Big Part of his plans (because the most fun part of regression time travel stories is when they start Amassing wealth) so I think he honestly just goes straight to his house, tells Bill Seacaster that him and his son are best friends (which Fabian would SCREAM at if he got humiliated by this goblin earlier that day) and then challenges Bill to a shooting contest and thrashes him, which makes Bill keel over with laughter, offer him a place on his crew, offers him his son’s hand (Fabian is hitting critical levels of red anger embarrassed face at this point) 

-Other fun ways to gather wealth, Riz just robs Kalvaxus. Just remembers every little detail about the accounts from his files, goes to the bank, gives all the current passwords, transfers the Entire dragonhoard to his own account 

-And yes the plot would all be decimating Goldenhoard that first year, so Riz just saves every girl before they’re captured, the maidens that have already been taken, hunts them down. I think he goes to the gas station that Johnny Spells and his friend’s occupy, locks the door and walks right into this den of bikers, just full Kingsman fight sequence decimates them. Because I think he would feel So good getting a body back that hasn’t been rung with years of stress and Kristen Shenanigans that he is in like peak condition 

-First Day finds the rogue teacher which is why he has so much time for running around preparing everyone’s future

-I think, honestly, he shoots Coach Daybreak in the head on sight and gets sent to the principal’s office and Aguefort’s like “are you doing a chronomancy?” and he says yea and Aguefort’s like sweet, carry on 

I think he finds Jawbone taking terrible paying bouncer jobs, and just offers him a bodyguard/assistant job so he has a little buddy to investigate with.

Starts a full out war with Helio followers because they had way too much reach in town, and when they try to debate with him he has Way more knowledge about their scripture than they do and some truly dangerous deity blackmail locked and loaded and Helio himself comes down and says haha leave this kid alone he just implied he can reincarnate a God, let’s go, let’s go.

Finds some insane legal loophole that absolutely strips Adaine and Aelwyn’s parents of influence and gives their children power over all their assets. Weirdly becomes very close friends with Aelwyn, maybe it’s because they both have the same taste in liquor now.

I think he’d start an information guild that involves like Zayn Darkshadow, Fig in her many disguises, Aelwyn and surprisingly Kipperlilly. Also Kalina! And he knows exactly how to summon her and keeps saying things to her that are friendly yet intimidating and it freaks her out.

Walks up to gorgug, hands him a study plan pathway to MCAT and walks off leaving gorgug very confused (and probably asking if he was his dad) 

Just fun time travel future knowledge shenanigans! And I cannot restate again, we saw how quick a Junior Year Riz is at investigating and making leaps to the right answer. By the time he is at the end of his life, I feel like he’s reached moriarty levels of detective prowess. The many new enemies he keeps making keep coming to him and he just strips them down with his powers of deduction. He’s looking at how one person favours their left side, or the crumbs on their wrist and knows everything there is to know about them. 

So just Freshman Year, the perfect run, Riz with a lot of angst in a very satisfying detective story getting closure for a lot of things. 

[bbanghiitomi]

PART I: bring the cases in!

| masterlist | next |

synopsis: not even a month of working under the ador talent agency, you've only been loaded with useless workloads until one particular day you get tangled upon three different crimes and without realizing it leads you upon a someone.

pairing: idol!prosecutor!mdanielle × non-idol!defense-lawyer!fem!reader

U⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠ ⁠UU⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠ ⁠UU⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠ ⁠UU⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠ ⁠UU⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠ ⁠UU⁠ ⁠´⁠꓃⁠ ⁠`⁠

Day 1:  Investigation

"god my job is horrible." you grumble as you sit on an empty chair in the lobby of the agency you work at, you have just gotten your job and have started "working" last week, it wasn't the best job — scrubbing the toilet and fixing the mess your employer's "daughter" made. you take note to yourself that you studied a long time to become a lawyer but seeing your poor state, you haven't done anything quite remarkable at all yet and you're already getting tired of it.

"good morning y/n!" your employer comes in, wearing the most "hobo" looking outfit ever, you look at her cap that she doesn't seem to take off and you sigh. "hi ma'am." you greet her, she insists you call her "min heejin" because according to her, that's her name and that's what everyone should call her.

but you couldn't do it anyway, you're too professional to do that, beside you haven't been inside this office for a month, so it's never really an easy thing to be accommodated in such a short time. "what have you been doing today?" she asks, you scratch your head and laugh looking up at her with a sheepish smile. you think to yourself: it's not like there's much to do here anyway...

"nothing in particular..." you mutter and stand up, being at least a head taller than your boss, you put your hands on your sides and smile at her. "if you have something for me to do please just tell me." you tell her as you walk past her, silently hoping she gets you a case to work on.

min heejin kind of just stands there, watches as you enter the small cubicle inside the office made just for you (because apparently you're the only employer min heejin could afford for now even though she was once one of the biggest defense lawyers few years ago).

you put your head on your palms as you let it rest, you're kind of frustrated by the lack of attention from your boss, there seems to be not much going on for the office and it'll take a lot of time for any case to come by. honestly, you were looking forward to this job and you had no absolute idea it'll slow down your progress as a newbie lawyer.

not to mention, you were a big fan of min heejin, she used to be a big and famous defense lawyer from just a few years ago, when you were still starting your journey towards your dream of being a defense lawyer — apparently she doesn't take cases anymore for some reasons she doesn't want to specify, you took this job because you wanted to work for her but also find out the truth behind why min heejin stopped her job as a defense lawyer, even if it meant having to babysit her tall adopted daughter.

after an hour has passed, you hear the door open and the familiar voice comes booming inside the office, the flimsy wooden walls of your cubicle not strong enough to withstand such powerful waves. "mama!" hyein shouts, entering inside and there's another set of footsteps, you assume it's from her friend — hyunseo, who happened to be acquainted with your boss but for another reason she doesn't specify.

you move your swivel chair to take a peek at the duo and see them running towards min heejin who is sitting at the couch, hyein seems in a rush and panicking. "mama! my purse went missing!" she exclaims, you turn your chair fully and stands up to peek.

min heejin seems unfazed, rather she gives hyein a quick glance and nods. "i know someone who can find it for you." min heejin stands up before walking over to you and she places her hand on your shoulder. "y/n, here's your first case. look for my daughter's purse." you look around, shifting your gaze to the two young girls and then back to your boss. "b-but—! that's not even a real case!" you argue, looking confused... why out of all cases in this city did your employer choose to send you to play detective on a missing purse?

that thing might be gone by now already!

"wouldn't that be counted as a crime though if hyein's purse was stolen?" hyunseo counters, which make absolute sense but for someone like you — desperate to actually get some real action, a real job of stepping into an actual courtroom, this is unbelievable!

"no! you don't get it, i'm a defense lawyer... not a detective! how am i supposed to look for a missing purse?" you look at your boss, hoping she'd understand, yet it seems like she's hiding some scheme under that cap of hers.

min heejin turns her head to look at you, she doesn't smile but she gives you a nod. "you find out, it's your job. a defense lawyer starts on an investigation, you learn to find clues and solve simple cases then i'll be able to make sure you can manage yourself out there." sometimes you hate your employer for being witty, she's smart enough to find her way out of everything and smart enough to pull strings on people, including you.

maybe that's why you aspire to be as skillful as her but you have such a long way to go first.

you accept the job, reluctantly and now you're with your boss' adopted daughter walking around the town and trying to find any signs of her expensive purse. you grumble, have you mentioned? hyein is a part of this super idol group that's been conquering the generation of idols today; newjeans.

ever since min heejin stopped being a lawyer and would do freelancing jobs anywhere, hyein became an idol and was able to help her mama's office intact, it was once called a law firm office, now it is now called "ador talent agency". it was quite incredible if you were to be honest but you can't help but think how hard it must be for her to witness the downfall of min heejin's defense career. you don't fully know their story but you were willing to find out even if it takes a long time.

as you're walking with hyein down the street you decide to go back to the agency but also take the path that leads to the back of the ador agency office, you notice a very interesting detail from the windows of the ador agency beside the back entrance when you try to examine the back entrance. to get to the back of the office, there's a small alleyway (this small alleyway leads to a road, that goes to the public park and another one to a hospital) and you try trace your steps back with your eyes — eventually you take a peek at the windows, peering your head inside, hyein watches and tilts her head.

"i just noticed that the windows are open." hyein says, you turn your head to the left and see a drawer — on top of the wooden drawer you notice an empty space beside all the picture frames and hyein's figurines. you remember something. "hyein, isn't this the exact space you have you purse sat on?" you take your head out of the window and look at hyein who walks her way towards you and takes a peek at the window before nodding. "yeah, you know? we never lock this window because no one really comes in here." you agree, this specific back entrance of the agency office is quite hidden and only a few people who live in the same area know this entrance (mostly the ones who are close to the owner of the agency).

you trace back your steps and eventually scratch your head. "i need to think more, can we go back to the office for a bit?" you ask hyein, she sighs but agrees before you and her make your way to the agency through the back entrance.

and as you enter and make your way to the lobby there are two people waiting by the couch and in surprise, you grumble.

"good afternoon, is there something i can do for both of you?" the old man stands up almost immediately and curses. "oh what a bad day it is! my food truck was stolen!" you sigh and rub your forehead, the other woman on the other hand stands up too and looks at you with begging eyes. "please help us find the culprit behind my husband's hit and run!" she exclaims, you back up as the two of them start bickering towards you and you hold up both your hands up high.

"woah — woah, woah! please calm down, give me some time okay?" you feel your blood boiling, what's up with the sudden rise of petty cases? you're not made for this! you slump your shoulders and look at the woman. "hit and run? can you tell me the details?" and as the old man was about to complain, you raise a hand on his face to shush him.

"yesterday, there was this car that was speeding through the road and it ran over my husband! he's currently at the hospital near this agency office!" you nod. "where did the hit and run happen?" you ask the woman, she looks down for a few seconds before looking up at you and answering. "right in front of his family's mansion." you recall that there was indeed a mansion just near the agency office, also right in from of the public park and a few blocks from the hospital.

"oh yeah, i know that place." you turn your head to the old man who seems impatient. "and you? what happened?" you raise your brows at him, he grits his teeth and points at you. "someone stole my food truck!" you scratch your cheek and sigh. "where was it usually anyway?" you ask him.

"that unoccupied space beside the hospital!" he exclaims and you look at the woman who immediately shifts her gaze away, after thinking for quite a while you sigh. "alright, i'll come looking for the culprit — for the meantime," you pause and grab the record book from your cubicle and a pen.

"can you two sign your names here and what you're requesting for?" you gave them the record book and watch as they sign their names, with the girl taking a few seconds before signing her name.

mr. hwang — missing food truck.

mrs. jeon — hit and run case of husband.

when the two leave, you look back at hyein and see her shrugging. "she looks awfully familiar." she tells you, you raise your brows at her. "what's with her?" you ask.

"i think i gave her our agency flyer just recently when i saw her once in that famous park just in front of the mansion." you grumble, not having any idea who these people are but now you're currently dealing with three different cases, each one not even making any sense or significant relationship with each other.

you place the record book at your table and open the door of the main entrance and immediately try to remember where the jeon mansion was. with hyein still tailing behind you're able to spot the mansion not too far from the office. when you get there, there's almost nothing except for the amount of fallen leaves everywhere and splashes of paint, you look around to see that inside the big gates of the mansion, there are huge trees and that you take note that it is the season of autumn.

there's a group of people sweeping the leaves, you walk towards them. "uhm excuse? what happened here?" you ask one of the sweepers, she immediately looks at you and greets you back. "oh hi there dear, there was a hit and run incident here yesterday and the car hit the basket full of dead leaves causing the leaves to scatter all over the road and the buckets of paint to fall." you nod, looking at the gate of the mansion, you notice the unfinished paint job on the gate.

"it happened right in front of this mansion?" you ask the woman, she nods and frowns. "unfortunately, yes. it happened all too fast. we were assigned by the jeon family to repaint the gate and clean the fallen leaves and we have just finished our first day of the job then the tragedy happened to the son of the boss." you sigh, feeling bad for the workers and your eyes trails to the entrance of the park just in front of the jeon mansion.

there's a fancy car blocking the entrance, and a bunch of police cars inside.

with your sharp eyes you don't fail to notice the very intricate logo in front of the car, it's the newjeans logo; written in a very clean, shiny metal that you can already tell cost more than the whole ador agency office. thinking about it hurts your eyes, brain, and pockets.

"did something happen inside the park? i thought the hit and run incident happened here?" you watch as the sweeper turns her head to look at the gate entrance of the park and shrugs. "i heard there was a gunshot there yesterday too, and not so funny thing but the car that hit mr. jeon happened to come from there!" she says, you look at hyein who looks confused and you couldn't help but sigh.

"you think we can check it out?" hyein suggests, you want to say no but at the same time there must be some vital clue about the missing food truck and the car that ran over mr. jeon inside the park.

the sweeper goes back to her business and you make your way to the other side of the road, as you were about to walk past the car blocking the entrance, the car honks — surprising you and hyein. "what the —?" you watch as the door opens and a girl, you assume who is around your age, bright brown eyes — long lashes, pretty eyes, wavy hair, fair skin and dashing aura.

you're blinded by her beauty as well as the way she carries herself with pride but also humbleness.

"this is a restricted area, none of you are allowed here." she says, you frown but you understand what she means. "but i need to check something there, there's a hit and run case and i need to find clues to catch the culprit." you tell the girl, hyein laughs and runs towards the girl.

"dani! come on let us in!" she tells the girl, you look at them both — wondering to yourself.

how in the hell do they even know each other?

simple, they're in the same girl group.

you now remember this girl, danielle marsh.

a famous prosecutor slash idol.

how does someone even have two high-paying jobs? that's unfair!

meanwhile, you clean the toilet, babysit a tall toddler and investigate stupid crimes and you get no penny out of it.

"sorry hyein, seriously no kids are allowed here it's a serious case." danielle says, closes the door of her fancy car and she smiles at you; you think to yourself "what a killer smile, this should be illegal".

but seriously, you can't stand the fact that she's getting in the way of your investigation.

"but i'm serious." you tell danielle, she only tilts her head and gives you an endearing smile.

"i appreciate the enthusiasm, but this is only for professionals — you can bring your games somewhere else, for now this is a no-zone." she explains, yet you're determined — at least you try to look like it, she's not even that older compared to you.

"but y/n here is a professional, she's a defense lawyer working for my mama." danielle's ears perks at the mention of hyein's adopted mother and the title defense lawyer, it rings a bell inside her head and she smiles.

"ah no wonder the wandering curious eyes, honestly i've had many people look at me with the same intensity as yours but i've never felt flattered with it the way i did with your gaze before." danielle tells you, causing you to back up when she takes a step closer and you shake your head — clearly blushing. "what are you even — saying..?" you chuckle and your eyebrow curls, you were starstruck, not everyday you get to encounter a superstar.

although you barely know anything about newjeans, coming from the rural side of the country, you were not used to the ways of the urban side and as soon as you arrived in the city you were already greeted by billboards of the famous group. it felt weird seeing hyein's face everywhere, you've gotten familiar with the name "danielle marsh" she's everywhere, particularly when hyein talks about her in the office or when it's time to talk about the current cases going.

"say, you work for min heejin? her talent agency?" she asks with pure curiosity, you stare at her face and give her a quick nod. "yes, why?" you smile, feeling nervous. danielle looks at you and you can't pin what her gazes mean, you were sure she's trying to read your stance and understand what you're role is supposed to be.

"that's nice, but i still think you two shouldn't step foot inside the park. this is a serious case and i will surely appreciate it if you listen." danielle turns her back to you and hyein and waves her hand. "ah, i'll see you later..." she looks at you and perks her brow, you widen your eyes and look at hyein.

"y/n." you see her smile. "bye hyein and y/n. by the way, you can't get inside unless you're handling the defendant's case." she enters and her figure disappears amongst the groups of police officers around.

you step back and see hyein pout. "we really have no chances of getting in." she says, you scratch your head and sigh.

your eyes spot a trashcan, sometimes even at the worst times you try to find some hope and fortunately— like a racoon, your hope could just be inside this trashcan so you peek to see a broken side mirror and a pair of slippers.

"y/n..? woah! what are you doing?!" hyein exclaims as she watches you reach over to the broken side mirror with splashes of paint on it.

"i can get in." you tell yourself and look towards the park.

"i think we have no clue left, it's a dead end." hyein says and you shake your head in frustration. "this isn't it." you grumble as you lean on the couch with a groan. "i just can't give up here!" you shout, the door opens and you, along with hyunseo and hyein look over to see mrs. jeon, she's back again. you stand up and approach her almost immediately.

"i'm so sorry! i don't have that much access to clues, the police inside the park wouldn't let me in." you tell her and she smiles at you and gives you the flyer that hyein apparently gave her.

"i have another job for you." she says, you tilt your head. "what is it?" you ask her and she gives you a picture of her husband, who you assumed is mr. jeon. "my husband is currently faced with an accusation of murdering a doctor, he works at the seoul medical center just a few blocks from this office. i want you to take his case and present yourself at the courtroom as his defense lawyer." your eyes widens as you reach over to her hands, pressing your fingers to the picture mr. jeon and under it is her business card.

"we have just married each other recently, and i don't want to lose my husband! please do everything in order to clear his name." she begs, you nod immediately and bend yourself to bow.

"i will do just that!" you shout with all passion oozing out of you.

the first thing you do after you take the job is run to the hospital, and almost immediately you spot a red car at the garage near the parking lot. hyein follows and she takes note of the fact that the garage was open wide, it's supposedly the garage for doctors. she remembers this as she mentioned running for the person who stole her purse and seeing them run to this part of the hospital.

it wasn't closed but hyein knew it was restricted.

you immediately enter inside and start looking for clues and the first thing that was the most noticeable was the paint all over the car's bunker and the missing side mirror. "this might be it." you mutter to yourself. when you crouch to peek under the car, there's a phone with a cracked screen on the ground and it was near the car exhaust pipe, you pick it up and as you're about to stand up something from the car exhaust pipe pique your interest.

there's a kuromi keychain dangling from the exhaust pipe hole and you pull it out to find hyein's purse now sitting on your palm. "that's my purse!" she says as she takes it from you.

"okay, your purse is back. now, i need to solve the other cases." you tell her, but your eyes widen when she shakes her head. "no! can't you find the one who stole my purse first?" she asks, you sigh and shake your head.

"hyein — isn't it too late for that?" you tell her, she steals the phone from your hands and raises it. "how about this?" she says, you had no choice but to sigh in defeat. "alright, first i need to find out who drove this car first." you tell hyein and even before you can get closer to the car, a loud honking causes both you and hyein to jump in surprise.

"again? you two?" danielle steps out of the police car and the police car drives to park somewhere else, danielle sighs yet she has a smile on her pretty face. you feel your face warm in embarrassment and you shake your head, you remember mrs. jeon's phone number and her card which then you pull out. "have you heard? i'm mr. jeon's defense lawyer." you tell danielle and show her mrs. jeon's business card.

danielle blinks and then she smiles, as if entertained. "oh alright, so you're lee y/n?" she leans in and you fight the urge to back up and fall.

"y-yeah!" you tell her, hyein's face brightens up and she walks towards danielle. "does that mean we get to have you help us?" hyein asks danielle who gives her a very gentle smile and then she shakes her head with a pout. "sorry hyein, i can't. i'm here to watch over the police work. and while i'm here, it's best not to also have the defense lawyer here." she looks at you and you furrow your brow for a few seconds before sighing.

"alright we'll leave." you tell danielle, she brightens her face up and hyein looks at you in confusion.

you had other plans in your mind but it's best to keep danielle thinking you're doing her a favor.

"but aren't we supposed —" you cut hyein off as you give her a sweet smile.

"let's leave, the prosecutor's got some work to do." you simply turn your back towards danielle, hyein follows like a confused pup and danielle follows you with her eyes yet there isn't much inside her mind — trying to formulate any opinion about the sudden reappearance of min heejin's law firm.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song "How you get the girl." With them being friends and her being there when he opened the agency. All of them are on a case, and she almost gets ghost touched, so the drive home is very intense, then Lockwood gets mad at her for being reckless, she doesn't want to argue with him so she just goes to sleep crying, the next week Lockwood avoids her, and he sees a nightmare about her dying, so he pushes her even further away. She thinks that he is in love with Lucy because he is avoiding her and spending more time with Lucy. So she leaves the agency, and Anthony doesn't stop her because he thinks he is doing the right thing for her. Lucy and George miss the reader because they're very good friends, so they persuade Lockwood to tell the reader how he feels and bring her back, but Lockwood doesn't listen because he thinks it's for the better. Meanwhile, the reader gets very depressed because she misses them. After months of missing them, she can't do it anymore and tries to drown herself, but Lucy and George find her, so she gets angry at them and leaves. Lucy and George tell everything to Lockwood, who can't do it anymore. So he goes to the reader's house to confess and get her back.

How You Get the Girl - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: wooooo I’ve taken a long break from angst and this fic scratched all my itches hheheheh and in honour of 1989 TV!!! TW brief suicidal mentions but I try not to go into much detail, and goodnight god I need to sleeeeep wc: 4.8k

The four of them were in a cemetery, tasked to tackle three confirmed Lurkers. They were grateful it wasn't more, what with only half of them having decent Sight, but she was starting to feel bored, prodding the pebbles in the soil like some makeshift game, penned inside her iron chains near the gate. Lucy was also inside a different set of chains, but hers was inside the cemetery, where all the action was, and where she could somewhat help to look for the Sources. She had been more than ready to be the one standing nearer to the gate, but she was better at scaling walls so it was only logical to have her be the one inside in case...in case something went wrong with the gate.

Still, if George's yelling was any indication, they'd just found the second source, so it wouldn't be much longer now. They'd find the last source, pack up, and leave this dimly lit place which made her stomach churn.

"Where's the last one? I don't -" Lucy's scream tore into the night sky, cutting Lockwood off. She nearly fell over her rapier as she stumbled to her feet, hands growing clammy as she squinted through the cemetery's fog. She had never heard Lucy scream, let alone one filled with so much terror. Her mouth felt like rubber as she listened for something, anything, but was deafened by her heart pounding in her ears. Nothing. It was eerily quiet, as if none of them were there. She called out to her friends. Still nothing. She tried not to think about the last time Lockwood had been this quiet on a case. Turns out, he wasn't quite as chatty when bleeding out from a gunshot wound. Something similar must have happened now. His knees were probably buckling under himself right now, exhaling his last breath, as she stayed behind her chains like a coward. She heard a forlorn whisper - her own, even though she didn't register herself speaking.

"Lockwood. Lockwood?"

He was dead. She didn't know why, or how, but in that moment she knew for a fact that he was dead, or dying, and no one could bear to tell her. Sod the chains.

She tentatively stepped out of the circle, swallowing as her nausea increased tenfold. The crunch of the gravel beneath her boots seemed too loud for a night as quiet as this. The silence emanating solidified with every step she took, until the absence began to feel like something tangible. Her thoughts were running ahead of her, taunting her, preparing her for the worst sight imaginable. George with his head smashed upon? Lucy with her throat slashed? Lockwood, impaled on his own rapier?

She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, the kind that comes when a Visitor is too close. She lashed behind herself clumsily, rapier suddenly as bulky and unfamiliar as it was years back. She’d been in far more life-threatening situations, and yet now was the time she chose to have all her skills fly out of the window.

She felt a harsh jerk at her left elbow, and for the second time that night, she had an unpleasant swooping sensation of uncertainty twist her stomach. Fire spluttered inches from her face and she flinched, bumping into Lockwood, whose fingers had slipped from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. He looked around wildly, pulling his rapier back defensively, before she heard an unpleasant screech as her ears popped. Panic seeped out of her as she readjusted to the real world, becoming increasingly aware of his grip on her pulse. His hair was messed up and the side of his face glittered with soot, but he seemed too busy struggling with something himself to speak. He looked just as disconcerted as she felt, but the longer he observed her with trepidation in his eyes, she felt that it had more to do with her than the Lurkers.

“They...found the source?” She asked breathlessly, anything to break the silence.

“...yes.” He bit out, and she was thrown off by the venom in his voice. There was something different about him, something surlier. George gave a shout from behind and Lockwood snapped out of it, letting go of her wrist and moving away. By the time her wits had sufficiently returned, he was already finishing up some paperwork and George and Lucy had just finished loading their supplies into the cab. She tried to catch Lockwood's eye as he walked towards them, but he seemed to be aggressively avoiding her gaze. The crushing feeling was back. The cab ride was no less easy.

“Were you ghost-locked?” Lucy had picked up that something was off and she had the foresight to sit up front with the driver, while George was stuck between them. Lockwood, being Lockwood, wasn't about to wait until they reached home to start on her.

“No.” Couldn’t even see the bloody thing, she wanted to add, but she felt it wouldn’t help her case.

“Drawn out by the visitor?”

“No.” She felt the hot prick of shameful tears behind her eyes as she cradled her forehead. What had gotten into her? She had been embarrassingly paralysed for no good reason, rapier slack in her hand like an amateur trainee who couldn’t tell one end from the other.

“You of all people should know to stay within the chains. You know how little you can see. This isn’t your first Lurker - “

“I heard noises, and some screaming, and then it was dead quiet. I thought something terrible had happened.”

"What screaming?" It was harder for Lucy to follow the conversation from the front, but she still tried earnestly.

Her response died at her lips as she caught George's equally confused glance. The realisation dawned on her unpleasantly. Of course no one knew what she was talking about. There was no screaming. She should have known better, she did know better: Lurkers were notorious for causing visual and auditory hallucinations. Lockwood didn't wait for an answer, and pressed on heatedly.

“Even if she had screamed, your first instinct is to abandon your only form of protection? You’re not a newbie, L/N. So why I am I having to spell this out for you?”

“Spell what out for me?” It was a little more vicious than what the rest were accustomed to seeing, especially since very little of Lockwood riled her up this much after working with him for so long. But he hadn’t referred to her by her surname for years, and it stung.

“You could have died! You nearly did die. Never, have I ever seen a disregard for personal safety so deplorable. Really, what were you thinking?”

She rests her head against the cold window, the rattling a welcome relief to her pounding head, her exhaustion finally catching up to her, her words like loose marbles on her tongue. “I…I don’t know. I wasn’t- I was just…I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly.”

As far as misunderstandings went, theirs never went this far. Lockwood was an open book to her, and where he was stubborn she was even-tempered enough to knock some sense into him before things escalated this far. But this was new territory. She had never seen him this angry before and certainly never towards her, and she was too weak to shoulder his anger bravely. She could see the irritation behind the tension in his shoulders as he stabbed his rapier into their rapier stand near the front door, and felt her heart fold within itself even more. He jerked towards her like there was something he wanted to stay. A million words and feelings raced across his face. She opened her mouth, willing her fatigued mind to say something to patch the rift.

“I’m sorry.” She held her breath. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Any other day, he would have sighed, maybe held off for a second or two, before pulling her into a half hug or ruffling her hair, and dragging her to the kitchen. Because where Lockwood was smooth and charismatic, she was clunky with words and sometimes she couldn’t find the right ones. But with Lockwood, she didn’t need to. He would take one look in her eyes and pluck the thought out with devastating grace. It was her and Lockwood, Lockwood and her, forever scampering to each other’s rooms across the hallway to tell the other about their latest inane thought, until George yelled at them to quit it.

But today was not any other day.

“If you pull a stunt like this again…I don’t know if I could trust you enough to stay safe on cases.”

Her voice was an ugly croak. “…what?”

“Y/N…I cannot, in good conscience, entertain or enable you in this-this suicidal-“

“Lockwood, it was an accident. You know that, right?”

“That’s besides the-“

“You can’t possibly think I did this on purpose!”

“I don’t know.”

His eyes dropped, and she felt tears stinging her eyes again. “You...don’t...know.” She echoed him distantly, turning over each syllable on her tongue carefully, voice as hollow as his. “You don’t know…what? You don’t know…me?”

Flashes of the life they built together ran through her mind. Patiently dusting the frames that cluttered the walls. Broaching the idea of starting an agency. Standing hours in line at DEPRAC to register said agency. Going to Arif’s for the first time. Weeks of singed hair and smoky air as they relentlessly shortlisted the most cost-effective suppliers for their kits. Getting over her first breakup and watching him laugh as she swore off dating forever. Cycling indoors on a rainy afternoon just for the hell of it, while George nagged at them incessantly. Buying a cake the day their paperwork was approved and it being smeared on DEPRAC’s certificate within a minute of it being cut. Getting yelled at by Barnes for the first time. Getting injured for the first time and having him excessively fuss over the cut. Arguing about their noses while waiting for their cab in the cold after a case (he insists they’re the same, and she disagrees, partly because she isn’t sure if she could handle knowing that). Framing their first (less than complimentary) news article. Him putting the kettle on in the mornings so that it’s just the right temperature by the time she comes down to the kitchen.

Somewhere along the line, she became acutely aware that the glow she felt watching him nibble at toast in bright spirits after a long case wasn’t completely normal, but then she forgot, because it didn’t matter at the time. But now it felt like it should.

He swallowed with a resolute set to his jaw that told her he wasn’t going to change his mind anytime soon. She felt a tremor run through her hand, a sudden urge to reach out and clench the lapels of his coat, to hold on to the misty silhouette of a friend who was quickly dissolving into thin air.

And then he was gone, and she was alone, and the rift deepened and gaped its visceral jaws in front of her, threatening to swallow her whole. She numbly got dressed for bed, forgetting about the slice on her forearm until she dragged it across her sheets. It smarted, but there was a comfort in the irritation and rawness.

That night, she dreamt of bicycles rolling along on hardwood floors, the shadows the library fire cast in the grooves of Lockwood's face, and rough walls she couldn't scale. She didn't know when she started to cry.

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

"So we all slept like shit. Good to know."

George walked into an uncharacteristically silent kitchen. Lucy was glumly stirring her tea, Lockwood favoured the newspaper over breakfast that morning, and she had a plate of buttered toast in front of her that she kept forgetting about. "At least the two of you had the chains for, er, most of it."

"Please. It was just as bad inside the chains. I kept hearing my teammates die over, and over, and..." She covered Lucy's hand with one of her own, gently removing her spoon.

Breakfast was a sorry affair, and the rest of the week didn't fare much better either, and things reached a breaking point on Sunday. Lockwood shut himself up in the library to get their files and invoices straightened out. There we go, another first: first morning they didn't speak a word to each other. Lucy was busy with rapier practice and George went off to the Archives, so she decided to head out for some fresh air. She came home around lunchtime. George wasn't back yet, but she couldn't hear the jets going off in the basement. She crept upstairs, her stomach twisting at the sight in Lockwood's room.

He was seated on his bed, concerningly pale, talking to Lucy in a low voice. The scene looked so intimate she felt like an intruder just watching them. She tapped on his door, and their heads jumped apart.

"Everything okay?" She tried to keep her tone light, but Lucy's grave face and Lockwood still pointedly looking away didn't help. Lucy gave him a not-so-subtle kick and he grimaced. Her face fell.

"Sorry, I...didn't mean to intrude."

"No, no, it was nothing. We were just talking about yesterday's case. Right, Lockwood?"

"I'll just go -"

"Luce, mind helping me pack the chains?" He held out a duffel bag. The duffel bag he always gave her, not Lucy, to pack the chains. To her credit, Lucy didn't seem much happier than her either, and she snatches the bag from him in a huff. As Lucy walks away, she wonders what it must be like to be loved by Anthony Lockwood. He stands up and starts to shift around his room, fiddling with odds and ends; but curiously, he hasn't asked her to leave.

"I can't - " Her words failed her, but she gritted her teeth and forced them out anyway, the hard edge in her voice giving way to a weak whisper. "I can't stand this. You can't keep freezing me out."

"I don't know what you're talking about. What I do know is that we have a job at 135 Manilla Street and if you don't feel up for it..."

She didn't finish his sentence. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn't going to play into his emotionally manipulative hands like putty. Lucy awkwardly walked out of the room.

"...maybe you shouldn't come."

For the first time in nearly 18 hours, he finally looked at her, but nothing could have prepared her for the contempt he held.

"Don't be ridiculous." "Of course I'm coming."

"Actually, I was just discussing this with Lu-" A heavy boot chucked from the attic narrowly missed Lockwood's head. "I came to the decision, after talking with Luce, that maybe it's best you don't come tonight. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, because I'm coming. This is my job." Lockwood didn't seem to appreciate that in the same way she did. She was distantly aware of George calling out into the house, and Lockwood slammed the stack of books he was gathering onto his desk in response. Anger seemed to be the only emotion he could express after last night.

"Why can't you just listen for once? Why must you always be so...so difficult?"

"I'm not some possession for you to do with as you please! You yell at me, ignore me, scorn me, now lock me up just because you've decided you don't want to look at me?"

"Enough." There was a warning hidden in the tone of his voice as he started to close his door, but she wasn't done. Some fragmented fracture of Lockwood still cared about her, cared about his awful behaviour, and by God was she going to shake that out of him.

"What do I care? Keeping secrets behind locked doors is all you're good at anyway."

He froze just as the door was a fraction of an inch away from closing, a deadly quiet settling over the house. Even the rustling in the kitchen stopped.

“Look, I didn’t want to have to this.” Oh, he’s most definitely seeing red now. “But I am your employer, Miss L/N, and it is for me to decide which cases you do or do not go for.”

"So...this is just what we're going to do for the next...forever? I'll never go on a case again just because you have some weird problem with it? I'll just -" She let out a harsh bark of laughter, suddenly manic with panic. "I'll just leave then, shall I? Get out of your hair, for good?"

"I didn't say that."

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t do this, Lockwood.” Her breath was coming in embarrassingly agitated now. Was the air thinning? Her head was spinning like she might pass out. She pushed against the door with ore force than she needed, meeting surprisingly little resistance. He was standing woodenly, eyes unseeing, and yet she felt that was the most honest he had been since the previous night. She looks at him, and for the first time, she wonders what he’s thinking about.

"Fine. Be like that, then." She wants to reach out, beg him to want her to stay, but instead she pulls herself away. She opens drawers and cabinets and pours clothes and misery into her worn suitcase. Lucy stands hopelessly in the doorway and George is whispering something furious to Lockwood, who just watches her stonily. A part of her feels stupid, as stupid as the night before, like she had lost some race in taking this long to realise she was hoping, praying, waiting for nothing. As she leaves, George searches her face and pats her shoulder awkwardly. When she reaches the front door, a movement in the shadows makes her jump.

"He's just being an arse. You know that. Just wait a few days. Please.”

Lucy. Sweet Lucy. Sweet, well-meaning Lucy who was better than the lot of them. She was going to miss her the most. She told her as much, but Lucy didn’t seem amused.

“You don't have to leave." She pulled Lucy into a hug, keeping her bitterness barely at bay.

"Oh, Luce. What else can I do?"

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

She lives in a cold, cramped flat at the edge of civilisation, away from anyone's eyes. Away from Lockwood's cold, dead eyes. Some days she reads the paper, and every time she tries to force herself to read it as Lockwood would. She stays in the bed for the first week, but her savings are only so little, and eventually she starts working again. Too frail to set out as an independent agent, she signs on part-time with Fittes. She doesn't bother to get to know her teammates. Kipps is unexpectedly kind to her in ways he would rather die than acknowledge. She doesn't stick around long enough to get checked up by their medics after cases.

She returns to her dimly lit cavern and clumsily bandages her cut alone with none of his attention to detail. She drags her palm weakly across her eyes and tries to remember her friends' faces. Did Lucy's bob end at her chin, or her clavicles? How big were the lenses of George's glasses? Lockwood is a mist that colours her new life. Turns out, life is a lot more depressing without George's propensity for intellectual name-calling and Lucy's aggressively positive spirit. Sometimes she catches herself taking her tea the way Lockwood does, and she wonders where Lockwood ends and where she begins.

She goes to sleep wishing she had never met him, and wakes up with a million things to tell him. She sees the occasional silhouette wandering the street as she draws her curtains and lets her heart pretend it's him. She fumbles with her love for him, not knowing where, or how, to put it down. Day in and day out, her yearning threatens to consume her entirely.

One night, after a case at a bridge over the Thames, she runs into George and Lucy, and it's the most alive she's ever felt since she left. They want to hear about her but she brushes it off immediately: she wants to hear everything and anything about 35 Portland Row and its inhabitants.

"He's bloody awful lately. He's too quiet, and he keeps staring out of windows like he's waiting for something, even at night. George had to knock him out with cough syrup to stop him from coming tonight; he's wasting away. Of course, George occasionally forces some food down his throat and wrestles him into his bed every once in a while, but..." Lucy worries her bottom lip and she feels her stomach sink. "I don't know how much longer this can last."

"I keep telling him to reach out to you -"

"Reach out to me? Do you know where I live?"

George exchanges a look with Lucy. "Well, not exactly, but it took Lockwood all but half a day to find out. Not that he'll tell us. Coherent speech is...it's becoming a bit of a struggle for him. Either way, I have no idea what's keeping him from apologising when he's clearly so cut up about it."

After they leave, she replays the conversation in her head while waiting to be dismissed, trying to extract as much meaning as she could from their words. She thinks about the dark apartment waiting for her. An empty flat. An empty life. Before she realises, she's neck deep in the Thames, a step away from walking off the sea bed. Freedom from this pain, from these shackles which bound her to earthly woes, was deliciously close. She closes her eyes and takes the final step, water rushing in to dull her hyperactive senses.

But the peace didn't last long. Suddenly, she felt hands hauling her out of her cool sanctuary, and desperate panting coupled with water splashing. The water in her lungs hurt and she felt like a sack of potatoes. After much painful gagging and coughing, she gathered her wits. Lucy was apprehensively leaning over her, and she could hear George agitatedly pacing and muttering behind them.

"I thought you looked weird. Your eyes were too bright."

"...dead man walking. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna rip his throat out..."

"Come home with us, Y/N. Just for tonight. Please."

She looks at Lucy, suddenly furious at her for interfering. What did she know? This wasn't some small tiff where she and Lockwood could just hug and make up. She was better off without them. She dodges Lucy's concern and outstretched hand, shakily rising to her feet.

"If it was as simple as coming home, believe me - I would have returned a long time ago."

"Y/N..."

"I don't need you looking after me! I'm fine alone. Just go home, Lucy." Shame was beginning to fester inside of her. "Just go home."

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

Hell is beating at her windows when she wakes up. The rain comes down hard and fast in sheets, and for the first time, she feels grateful to have this roof, however old, over her head. She curls up at her window with a large cup of coffee, watching the heavens rage.

Suddenly, her head jerks towards the front door. She listens carefully for a moment, but only hears the wind howling through some hidden draft. And yet, her feet are walking her towards the door. She feels it in her bones the way she hasn't felt it since that fateful night months back. Something new is waiting for her.

She opens the door to a drenched man with his fist poised, ready to knock. It takes her a few blinks to reconcile the image of the man in front of her with the Lockwood she now only hazily remembered. They hadn't been exaggerating; he really did look awful. His skin was dull and stretched grotesquely over his bones, and his eyes look positively bruised. He was aggressively shivering in the rain, no umbrella in sight. She instinctively stepped back and he gratefully entered, rubbing his hands together for some warmth.

"Are you insane? What are you doing here?"

"I know what happened last night."

She subconsciously withdrew within herself. "George told you?"

"Lucy, actually. George and I haven't been on the best of terms lately, but, as of now, he's stopped speaking to me entirely."

"Ah." A small part of her flickered sympathetically. She remembered how much George meant to Lockwood, and vice versa, but the memory felt so unused, as if it were from a different life.

If he notices how dismal her flat is, he doesn't let on. In fact, he only seems interested in looking at her, drinking her in like a man starved. She allows it, but only for a while, and only because it's too big of a relief to have him standing here, larger than life, right in front of her. Starving, yes; sleep-deprived, yes; but very much alive.

"Come now, Y/N. Don't look at me like that."

"It's been a very long six months. I'll look at you however I want."

He sighs and shifts her chair closer to her and, as if inspired by some sudden bout of insanity, takes her hand, but doesn't seem to know exactly what to do with it.

"Lucy and George have been yelling at me to tell you the truth for ages now, but...I was too afraid. I was a coward. But after my earful from George last night...I realised you were just as scared as I was. Probably even more, all alone. And I'm trying to find it in me to be brave enough for the both of us." She listens cautiously, too burnt to fully believe.

He laces his fingers into her own, and brings it up to his face tenderly. "Remember how it used to be? Me and you, you and me. Just the two of us against the rest of the world." He fiddles with his pocket, and she hears a crinkling of brittle newspaper. It's their first picture in the papers. George, with significantly fewer wrinkles, is standing off to one side. Lockwood is trying and failing to look professional, which probably has to do with the way she's thrown her arms around his neck and is pressing a half-kiss to his cheekbone. She couldn't help it; she was just so proud of him. That's the photo to gets her to smile for the first time in months.

His own smile wobbles as he watches her, then slides off entirely, leaving behind an Anthony Lockwood that looks much older than his years.

"I don't know what I was thinking that day. I had a really bad string of nightmares that week where...where your lips would be blue and your pulse long gone by the time I reached. It was such a close shave, I can't help but think..." She wants to reach out and smooth the crease in his brow. "What if I were a second late?"

"But you weren't. Isn't that all that matters?"

A glimmer of a smile skimmed his face. "Yeah, well, Lucy told me as much."

"Smart girl."

"But I didn't listen. I tried - god, I tried - but I couldn't. I thought you would be safer without me. So when you started saying you'd leave, this awful seed was planted in my head, and I was angry, but also madly in love with you, and I didn't know how to say any of it."

A tear falls on their joined hands. "That evening really messed me up, Lockwood. It screwed with my head big time."

"I know." There was a rush in his voice that mirrored the same kind of rush that had flitted through her body for the past six months. "And I don't expect you to ever forgive me. I'll spend the rest of my life fixing the damage I've done. But...but...if somewhere down the road...you find it in your big heart to forgive me and my sins...I might just love you. No more secrets or locked doors; I'm done with them. Y/N L/N, I'm ready to love you wildly and freely."

First time she didn't absolutely hate him saying her last name.

[thee-ghosty]

Snippet #4

Suggestive

The hero and the villain always did this sort of dance when they fought. One would take a swing, the other would dodge and swoop down before striking back and hitting the other square in the chest. They swirled around each other, a waltz in dark alleys or empty warehouses. Sometimes, they would switch it up with a wide kick here and there, maybe an elbow to the side, anything to get close enough to touch the other without breaking the rules. The hits didn’t even hurt. Not anymore.

It was a big fight today. Heroes and villains by the dozen all fighting against another for their version of peace. But, of course, our hero and villain got swept up in their own scuffle, their “dance” was in full swing in a dark alley.

The hero was panting, sweat dripping down his forehead as he kept his fists up. Something was off in the villain’s air, a gleam in his eye the hero couldn’t identify. They went deeper into the alley and as the hero went to do a familiar strike, the villain stopped his punch.

He looked at the other in surprise as the villain delicately pushed him back until the hero’s back hit the wall.

“Villain, what are you-”

“Shh.” The villain placed a finger to his lips as he backed up and looked over his shoulder. A beat before an explosion went off in the distance. The villain nodded his head approvingly. “Alright, we have five minutes.” He stated.

“For what?” The hero asked.

“To talk.”

“About what?” The hero asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you.” The villain finally turned to him, looking up and down Hero’s body. His heart stammered slightly.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been acting… strange. First you were pulling your punches, then you were all skittish when I got close to you, now you won’t even show up to fights anymore” He strode over as he spoke, now standing almost toe to toe with Hero. “Is something wrong?”

“T-the agency assigned me to this big case that took all of my time. I mean, I-it’s not like I, uh, didn’t want to fight you but, you- you know…” Why am I stuttering so much? Hero thought. “Did you not like Mav?”

“She’s not you.” Villain said bluntly.

After a beat, Villain tilted Hero’s chin up, staring directly into his eyes. Holy shit. The hero tried to keep his face neutral, but the creeping blush on his neck was all too revealing. The villain tilted his head slightly, before saying the words the hero wanted dreaded to hear.

“Do you like me?”

“I-what?” Hero said hoarsely.

“Do. You. Like. Me?” Villain said slowly.

Hero shook his head. “No.”

The villain furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

“P-positive.”

“Even when I do this?” He asked innocently. He traced his other hand up the hero’s arm to his face and cupped his warm cheeks, sending chills down Hero’s spine. Villain slowly leaned in, the Hero widening his eyes as he his heart pounded in his chest. His mind swam, trying to process what the fuck was going on. Why was Villain doing this? Does he like me too?? Hero thought. Despite his mind becoming a mess, he started to shake his head, quietly muttering under his breath.

“Please, don’t.”

In an instant, the villain let go and stepped back, a mix of worry and regret on his face. “I…I’m sorry, I misread the situat-”

“No!” Hero exclaimed. “No, uh. It’s not you. It’s just…” The hero rocked on his feet, looking anywhere but the villain’s face. His adam's apple bobbed before he spoke again. “It’s the agency. They don’t like, um, relationships getting in the way of things and I-I can’t get kicked out.” Not when they have my entire life in their hands.

It stung to say those words. The hero never fully considered his feelings for the villain until this moment,a weight in his chest growing as he thought about being held by Villain, being kissed by his soft lips…The blush on his cheeks intensified at the thought. But he couldn’t have that. He could never have that.

The Villain stared at him, his eyes narrowing before something shifted in the Villain’s face, a familiar dark grin appearing. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to take you captive.” He purred.

The hero slowly gazed up at Villain. “Wait, you will…what?”

“I’m a villain, aren’t I? They couldn’t kick you out if I kidnapped you.” He came closer once again, placing his hands on either side of the hero’s face. “And I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me returning you in mint condition in a few days…or a few weeks, depending on how long it takes to give you some proper care.”

The hero cleared his throat. “And, um, what kind of care is that?” He asked quietly, sinking more into himself as Villain leaned in closer.

“The kind where you are writhing under me.”

Jesus Christ. Hero never thought in a million years that Villain would actually like him, let alone say something so…

The hero didn’t even have time to finish the thought before the villain cupped his face and pressed his lips to the others. After taking a second to register what happened, the hero grabbed onto the front of Villain’s suit, pulling him closer. God, he’s wanted this for so long. But as soon as it began, Villain pulled back. The hero started to stammer in protest before the villain pressed a finger to his lips.

“Patience, my dear. Pack whatever you need and I’ll take you at dusk, Alright?”

The hero could only nod, the shock holding him in his place. The villain smiled and placed a quick peck on Hero’s cheek before walking away, throwing a wink to the other over his shoulder.

It was a promise. A promise that Hero would definitely be taken cared of.

[hopleii]

should've said no,

content: dazai x fem!reader, toxic relationship, lovebombing, gaslighting, manipulating, cheating, fighting, swearing, angst no comfort, kinda ooc but kinda not, semi-proofread, trashy writing

a/n: had a mental breakdown abt my ex so i was like 'our whole relationship would be a good story' so yeah!

you knew, you always knew that dazai had a way with women. he was handsome and charming, he could easily get any girl he wanted with just a few words, and that's how he got you.

a year ago, you went to a formal event with your friends. you were third-wheeling with them and their boyfriends, as expected. taking small sips out of your glass, enjoying the tart and sweet taste of wine, you sat there unaware that you had caught someone's eye.

"what's a pretty girl like you sitting alone here?" a feathery voice from behind you snapped you out of your thoughts, you turned back to see a brunette man with a handsome face, no, handsome was an understatement. he was gorgeous.

"my, my...you are indeed pretty," he says in a gentle voice as if you'd float away if he wasn't careful. you got a bit shy and looked away, averting your gaze to cover up the flustered look on your face. "hey...look at me." the man whined,

those were the exact same words he said that pulled you back to reality, stopping your sweet moment of reminiscing on the first time you both met, at a party, where you both danced the night away.

and now you barely even hold each other anymore, "y/n...look at me!" he yells as he grabs your chin to face him, "listen to me! god, what is going on with you?" he yells again.

oh...right. the two of you were in the middle of an argument, it all started off with a backhanded comment, now both of you are fighting in the middle of the night. "what's going on with me? what's going on with you!?" you yell back, "you've been staying out late and you don't even tell me why! don't you know how worried i get?"

"how many times do we need to talk about this...I'm out working okay!? I just got home and you're already yelling at me...give me a break, I've had a long day..." he groans as he adjusts the collar of his blouse, a habit he does when things get too heated. but as he adjusts his collar, something caught your eye, something red.

"what is that?" you asked, dazai's face went pale when he hears your question because he knew exactly what you were talking about, "what's what?" he replied, his tone becoming calmer and quieter to avoid suspicions

"that." you said as you walked over to him and pulled down his collar, lipstick marks.

you let go of his collar as you let out a quivering gasp, tears forming in your eyes. "b-baby...it's not what it looks like, okay!?" dazai gently grabs your shoulders before pulling you into a hug, trying to comfort you and stop you from crying, but instead, it only fueled your anger even more because you got to smell the cheap, floral perfume on him.

"it was for a case at the agency okay? i...i had to get information from someone a-and.." he paused, losing the words he was about to say when he saw your face stained with tears as you looked at him with disgust and betrayal. "baby...just trust me, okay? it was for a mission...nothing more, okay? you're the only one i love." he says as he tightened the hug, making soothing motions on your back to try and comfort you, to earn your trust again.

"believe me..please? I'm sorry I didn't tell you...forgive me please? forgive me if you love me, baby...you trust me, right? because you love me?" dazai shaked your shoulders gently, looking at you with pleading eyes, urging you to believe him.

but you were always an understanding girl, weren't you? you always gave people second chances. and that might've been the worst mistake you made.

"y/n..say something!" he shakes you again, "I..I believe you." you say with hesitation, to be honest, you didn't. but he loved you, right? just like he said in that party a year ago...he loved you.

"r-really? I'm glad...you're not mad at me, right? you don't hate me?" he sighed, relief washing over him. his words made him seem so genuine, his face looked so innocent but there was still a part of you that didn't believe him at all. "fuck...you hate me, don't you?"

you get nervous at his words, your heart ached as he said that, "n-no! no, I believe you...I promise. nothing you do could ever make me hate you.."

dazai smiled softly and kissed you on the forehead, his mood shifting as if none of this happened.

months went by after this incident, he still came home late, some nights he didn't even come home. everytime you tried to talk to him about it, he'd get defensive and start yelling at you, calling you stupid to think that he was anywhere else but work, defending himself when all you did was ask him "where have you been?"

your friends warned you, your parents told you, your colleagues tried to talk to you but dazai had messed up your head so much that you were blinded by a false sense of love,

"so you'd rather listen to your friends than your own boyfriend!? why won't you trust me? y/n...come on, trust me!"

dazai's words echoed in your mind, you wanted to believe him. you wanted to trust that the man you loved wouldn't betray you, that there was a valid reason. his late nights turned into weekends away, excuses grew flimsier, and the distance between you widened with each passing day. yet, every time you tried to confront him, he would turn the tables, making you feel guilty for doubting him, for questioning his loyalty.

your friends' warnings fell on deaf ears, drowned out by dazai's promises of love and devotion. you clung to the hope that things would get better, that the man you fell for would return to you.

as the months passed, the weight of your doubts grew heavier, suffocating you with each passing day. you tried to bury them beneath layers of false assurances and forced smiles, but they refused to stay hidden for long.

the click of the door jolted you from your thoughts, but the sight of dazai didn't bring the relief you craved. his expression was unreadable, his eyes avoiding yours as he shuffled into the room.

"hey, i'm home," he mumbled, his voice barely audible above the silence that hung between you.

you opened your mouth to speak, to confront him, but the words caught in your throat. instead, you watched in silence as he moved past you, his presence heavy with unspoken truths.

"we need to talk," you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

dazai's gaze flickered with guilt, and he nodded wordlessly, the weight of your words settling on his shoulders. you took a shaky breath, preparing yourself for the conversation that would shatter everything you thought you knew.

"hmm? okay..." he hummed as he sat down in front of you, "what did you wanna talk about, pretty? oh, before that, i got you a gift! do you like it?" he says as he presented you a big box of chocolates that would probably take you weeks to finish. he was always like this, wasn't he? showering you with love and gifts, burying you with compliments every time he knows you're about to slip away to make sure you shut up and forget about the messed up things he did.

"it's not about the chocolates, dazai," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

he frowned, confusion flickering across his features before he plastered on a charming smile. "of course, my love. what's on your mind? you know you can tell me anything," he said, his voice oozing with faux sincerity.

you took a deep breath, gathering the courage to lay bare the truth. "i know about the other women, dazai," you said, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "i know about the lies, where you've been going all these nights. i can't do this anymore."

for a moment, there was silence, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. and then, with a scoff, he leaned back in his chair, his smile slipping into a sneer.

"oh, is that what this is about?" he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "you really think you can just walk away from me? after everything I've done for you?"

"i deserve better than this, dazai," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the roaring storm of emotions inside you.

but he just laughed, a cold, mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. "deserve better? you think anyone else would put up with you?" he spat, his eyes ablaze with contempt. "you're lucky to have me, y/n."

with a heavy heart, you rose from your seat, the weight of his words like chains around your ankles. you wanted to scream, to lash out at him for the pain he had inflicted, but you knew it would only fuel his cruel satisfaction.

instead, you turned away, your resolve hardening with each step you took toward the door. his laughter followed you, a haunting echo reverberated in the empty space between you.

"you'll be back," he called after you, his voice laced with venom. "you always come back."

© — hopleii

[pixelatedraindrops]

RAINCODE COMIC COLLAB~☔️

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF MY LABOR!!

3 full weeks of work and its finally completed!

So @kazinsblog and I did another raincode art collab together but this one was a HUGE project! This one's a full 18 page comic!

Idk if you all remember the comic idea that Kazin was planning to do that involved Yuma overworking himself until he gets sick and then gets tended to by everyone else. But when I saw it, I decided to ask her if she was willing to possibly collaborate on it, remaking it where she sketched it and I colored it.

Kazin's Beta images: 1 2 3 4

So here's the results of all that work. We've been at this since December 17th so this has been an almost full month collaboration. And of course mine's a bit more altered to my own style as well as adding my own touches and making it a little more whumpy/extreme... X'D I also freehand drew shinigami in my version as well.

Both our versions look pretty different! The only thing that are the same are the poses. So feel free to check out Kazin's traditional version as well!

Since its an 18 page comic, I decided to put it under a keep reading so it won't clutter everyone's timelines. Also, I will be narrating the pages because I love narrating sick filler type stories. So brace yourself for a VERY LOOONG post!! Def need time to read this one! (and no purple tinted filters here this time!)

Also note: If the writing is blue, it means the character is thinking, just like in the game! :)

And I apologize on the inconsistency of Yuma's bangs... I thought it was one way before so half of the comic he looks like he has square bangs... oof XD I fix it around page 10

ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this soft buffet, Raincode Community! 🌡️💕

(Page 1)

Our story begins on an ordinary day in Kanai Ward. Rainy gloomy and depressing as ever. Our little victim... wait... XD I mean protagonist Yuma decides to go out to investigate more about Kanai Ward to try to track down it's supposed ultimate secret. Yakou sets him off wishes him well and tells him to be careful. However, as he's out, he finds out a lot of people in the city need help. Because of his good nature and unable to turn down someone in need, he decides to help whoever he can. (the ultimate side-questing lol) Before he knows it, he's soaking wet and he had helped 10 people in total. Time passed and it was almost evening so he returns to the submarine. Yuma was completely unphased by this. (and he didn't dry himself off for 4 hours due to being occupied with tasks)

(Page 2)

Yuma returns to the Agency's submarine to greet his chief holding his meatbun order. (that also got wet) But Yakou notices that the trainee is sopping wet to the core and shivering. He immediately loudly demands that he sit down so he can tend to him. Yuma does as he's told and sits on the checkered sofa. Yakou rushes to the shower room to grab some small towels to help him dry off. But because Yakou is so panicked, he ends up being very rough in drying Yuma, pulling his hair and causing the small boy pain. After he dries him off, he tells Yuma he isn't allowed to leave anymore for the rest of the day and demands him to rest. Yuma tries to retaliate using puppy eyes, but it doesn't work. Yakou is immune.

(Page 3)

The next day Yuma asks Yakou if he can go out to work after he finishes his morning chores around the place looking very eager. Yakou still looks a little concerned by how tired Yuma looks, so he tells him to not go out alone. He assigns him a partner to go with the rest of the week.

On the first day he's paired with Halara. The two of them are asked to investigate the art gallery of Ginma. (maybe after the nail man case) But over time, Yuma starts developing a lingering cough that persists for quite some time. Halara asks Yuma is he's okay, to which Yuma lies saying that it's due to the dust of the room. But of course being sharp, Halara isn't buying it. But they decide to not persist him further.

On the second day, he's paired with Desuhiko. They're asked to go help out at the Aetheria Academy with another case (not murder related this time) However on the way to the school and in Ginma, Yuma starts slowing down, he's shaking and is a little wobbly. Desuhiko notices this and asks if he wants to go to the cafe for a drink. Yuma nods and as they go to the cafe and order some coffee, Yuma takes off his hat and coat and Desuhiko finally realizes how pale he looks. He's even slower at replying to him as he speaks, as if he's in a daze. Desuhiko decides to take Yuma back to the agency after this.

(Page 4)

On Day three, he's paired with Fubuki. But he doesn't even make it to the case as when he goes to the sun and moon hotel to meet with her, Fubuki notices and points out that Yuma's face looks red. The boy clearly had a fever building. Yuma argues with her but Fubuki persists. The two of them try to go to the case but Yuma nearly collapses. So Fubuki returns him to the agency.

On the fourth day where he's supposed to be paired with Vivia he spends a majority of the day passed out. Vivia decides to watch over him using his forte to not disturb him. During the night while he's asleep, his breathing gets more labored and he's completely restless. Vivia looks at him deeply worried for his dear friend's well being.

The next morning Yuma somehow finds the strength to get himself up. Maybe that one day of rest was enough. But Yakou insists that he stays put today. Angrily yelling at him to be still and take today off as well.

Meanwhile, a certain two seem to notice each other...

(Page 5)

Vivia's spirit notices Shinigami and decides to give her a warning. Make sure Yuma listens to Yakou and doesn't leave. Giving her the iciest glare, Shinigami fearfully agrees.

But this effort would be for naught, despite how he feels, Yuma's relentless determination forces himself up, putting on his rain attire and heads up the steps of the sub to the outside when Yakou isn't looking. Shinigami does what she can to stop him, but he doesn't listen...and Shinigami being a ghost, there was nothing she could do to physically hold him back. All she could do was follow, and prepare for the inevitable.

By some miracle he makes it to the church, up the stairs to speak to the nun. Who tells him to play therapy again for the townsfolk. He nods and heads to his first client. But when he returns to kamasaki to speak to him, he can barely make out what he's saying as he lets out a few more coughs.

Once he leaves the client, before long, Yuma could hear something in his body snap.

(Note: I direct most of the story, but Vivia conversing with Shinigami in spirit mode was actually Kazin's idea! So credit to her for that, So silly and fun! ^^)

(Page 6)

Yuma's body had finally reached it's limit. All the fatigue, chills and body aches had hit him all at once at full force like armed weaponry. His head began throbbing, he was shaking violently and uncontrollably, he felt nauseated by the rain's smell, and his body heat and the lingering dizziness was unbearable. He found a safe corner in the alleyway of Kamasaki to collapse. Telling Shinigami she was right and he should have listened to her, while the burning fever and cold rain wrecked his delicate frame even further. His voice was hardly audible, but Shinigami still heard and practically tells him to go back. But Yuma had no strength left...

Then like clockwork as they finish speaking, he could hear his name called. At first it sounded kind and questionable. But that rapidly changed, the voice now angrily yelling out his full name. As he looked up this voice belonged to...Yakou. He looks down at the boy in pure disappointment and anger.

Turns out a certain someone was tailing him. And alerted Yakou what happened just in time.

(Note: I make the red darker the more extreme the temperature and lighter the less extreme. I got to experiment with all sorts of new ways to color fevers hehe~ >w<)

(Page 7)

Yuma shockingly looks up at Yakou. Oh no, he was so BUSTED! Shinigami even says as much. Yakou practically scoops Yuma in his arms carrying him back to the agency. As he was lifted Yuma's world begun spinning. He could barely hear the chief nagging him in a panicked tone. It was all distorted and it was making his head hurt more. Yakou placed a hand to his cheek and was shocked by how hot it felt. All Yuma could do was apologize and hope his world stops spinning and that Yakou eventually stops yelling... (also I put numbers for the order to read the speech bubbles in)

Upon returning to the agency, Yakou dries Yuma off, asks Desuhiko to give him a warm set of clothes to borrow and put him to his own bed. Grabbing a basin of very cold water, washcloths and a digital thermometer. He placed one of the wet cold cloths under his bangs and upon reading the boy's temperature, it was high. Almost high enough to visit the ER. Yakou was even more mad, but speaks in a non yelling tone. Giving Yuma another stern warning to not leave the bed. To which Yuma weakly agrees to.

But Yakou's back to yelling again, feeling paranoid Yuma would be missing by the time he gets back from getting the supplies. So he drills that message right into the boy's already throbbing head once more. Everyone else in the office awkwardly listen in as the sick trainee gets scolded.

(Note: Just an FYI, Yuma's speech bubbles being wavy is a sign his voice is raspy and the text being a bit hard to read means his voice is hardly audible)

(Page 8)

Yakou leaves Yuma alone and walks into the office in his raincoat telling the other detectives that he'll be leaving soon and to watch over Yuma in his absence and NOT let him leave. He is so full of anger and anxiety that he yells at all of them too.

Everyone agrees and as Yakou leaves, they all discuss among themselves Yuma's state the days they were partners with him. He was in bad shape. And he only got worse as the days went by. They all knew.

(Page 9)

Meanwhile back in Yakou's quarters, Yuma was getting lectured yet again. This time by his death god partner, Shinigami. The poor trainee only wanted peace and quiet to make the pain in his head go away, using what little energy he has remaining speaking in his head he tried telling her to stop.

But the aggravated spirit persisted, saying that as his mentor she had the right to scold him just as much as Yakou. She continued her rant, until an abrupt sound from her master shut her up.

The few coughs that came from Yuma eventually erupted into a full blown coughing fit. The coughs sounding more wet, rough and serious. After coughing 10 to 15 times in a row Yuma was exhausted. Shinigami looked down at him panting with concern and pity in her eyes. She decided to stop the lecture for his sake.

After the fit, Yuma was left raggedly breathing. As Shinigami gave him her permission to rest and take it easy, he didn't answer. He couldn't. That fit completely mangled his throat. He was not able to speak vocally or in thought process anymore due to his head being in too much pain. As was the rest of his body, aching and burning. So he didn't answer her. All he could do was hope sleep would eventually take hold of him to make all this awful heat and pain stop even if for a just moment.

(Note: That's the penalty Yuma... x'D Sorry I gotta make him suffer lol. Also this is the only page that’s actually read left to right. I messed that up, sorry!!)

(Page 10)

After some time passed it was time for the Master Detectives to all take part in taking care of Yuma. The whole agency had a day off to do this. So upon his return, Yakou instructs everyone to look after Yuma in 2 hour shifts through the day. Even if it was just to watch him sleep. He couldn't be left alone.

Halara was first. Their task was to help Yuma take the medicine that was bought. There were three types of medicine for him to take. Antibiotics (white pills) for the general illness symptoms, painkillers (red and white pills) for the headache/fever, and finally...cough syrup. (aka his least favorite... XD) Halara made sure to be very gentle with Yuma propping him upward as his whole body was burning and he was very shaky. He even had trouble drinking the water, so Halara had to get a mug instead so they could help him drink it by holding the handle, and using the other hand to support his back. Despite the struggle, Halara worked diligently to complete their task as a caretaker in full. (as for who paid them to do this...idk I'll leave that to your imagination XD)

(The cough syrup idea was inspired by this fic :3)

Desuhiko had the second shift and the whole time he was waiting for his turn, he was writing a song for Yuma. Having the delusion that his angelic voice would lul the sick boy to sleep, he played his guitar and began singing. Yuma's headache did improve enough to speak in his head now, but that wouldn't last, as the loud noises from the guitar made his head pound even further with every strum. Shinigami begs for the noise to cease fire on her poor eardrums, but Yuma doesn't have it in him to stop Desuhiko. The gesture was kind so he decided to try to listen to the whole song, despite the noise. He does eventually tell him to stop though (using hand gestures) when another song comes afterward. So then the two spend their time conversing for a bit, (though desuhiko does more of the talking as yuma just nods or makes small noises/hand gestures due to his throat still hurting too much to talk) Desuhiko even telling him he could keep the sweater and shorts he had lent to him. To which Yuma softly smiles at him as a thank you before he eventually falls asleep again.

Fubuki has the third shift, and her task was to feed Yuma the warm vegetable soup that was bought earlier and that Halara had just finished making, along with Fubuki's help. She volunteers to feed him as she remembers a time she was ill as a child in the clockford mansion and one of her servants tended to her, feeding her soup just the same. Unfortunately, because this was a memory of her early childhood, she repeats similar phrases as the servant did when she was feeding Yuma, who was clearly not a small child. Yuma's fever had dropped enough to where he could find a bit of strength to try and sit up on his own now, and his once mangled throat’s condition had improved for him to speak a little bit. As he listened to Fubuki's rambling he tries to play along with her despite the whole thing being a bit embarrassing for someone his age. At least the soup was nice and warm. It felt good going down his very sore throat.

(Funny Fact: The order that Yuma is both partnered and tended to by each detective, is the same order as the chapters in game he's partnered with them LOL)

(Page 11)

It was evening, and now it was Vivia's turn to take the fourth and final shift. At first he was just going to sit and watch Yuma while he read his book quietly, but Yakou suggested that he read one of his books out loud to Yuma to help him relax better like a bedtime story. Vivia was unsure at first, as he's never read to anyone before. But he decided to give it a try. He asks Yuma what his preference in literature is before he starts, and Yuma tells him he enjoys detective novels the most. So he pulls out the novel that was in his reading list and begins to read it out loud to him. Turns out he was quite a natural at narrating, and his slow voice was very soothing. Yuma felt so relaxed that he felt like he would fall asleep any minute, but he tries to stay awake to listen to the story a bit more. Shinigami however, conks out immediately. (fyi: yes this is the novel Vivia talks about in his final gumshoe gab. I tried to make up stuff based on it.. X'D)

Once the clock strikes 9pm and night falls, the Master Detectives all wish Yuma well and leave to return to the hotel to retire for the night. It was just Yakou and Yuma now. Yakou, who had just come back from another errand, walks over to Yuma who was now fast asleep. He looked a little better so Yakou removed the towel from his forehead and places his hand onto it. It still felt warm but no longer as hot as it did hours ago. Meaning he was out of the danger zone, much to Yakou's relief. He places the towel back in the water basin wringing it out and re-applying it to his forehead. Then he lets out a yawn. He was pretty tired. He decides that instead of sleeping in the office on one of the sofas, he'd stay by Yuma's side. His removes his jacket, goes and turns off the overhead lights, sits down and places his head down on his desk. Then after telling the sleeping trainee goodnight he turns off the small light by his desk.

OKAY FUN FACT: The comic WAS going to end here going on to the final page... Buuut~ We were STARVING for some good ol' Yakou Fathero :3 So... Enjoy these bonus 6 pages of Yakou having a shift of his own to look after Yuma in the middle of the night. And its the longest shift.

This ones for you Yakou Fathero fans! Eat your fill!

(I know we sure did :3)

Also I apologize if the lighting here is inaccurate ;w; I tried my best I'm no pro LOL

(Page 12)

A little past midnight, Yuma was stirring in his sleep. Making all sorts of groaning sounds as if he was in pain. He was likely having a nightmare. This is confirmed by his eyes suddenly opening and him violently flinging himself up screaming, and the cold cloth flying off his forehead.

This sound wakes Yakou up immediately as he puts his glasses back on asking Yuma if he's okay. He flicks the light by his desk on to check on him. Yuma's found shaking with tears in his eyes stating quietly that it was just a dream. Yakou sympathizes with Yuma as fever dreams were usually not fun, but a fever NIGHTMARE was always bad. The chief offers the shaking trainee some water to try to help him settle down.

(FYI: Shinigami is going to be absent from this part of the story because I think her banter and antics would ruin the fluff, so she'll just be lurking above in the shelf like a cat the whole time.)

(Page 13)

Yuma accepts the water practically snatching it from Yakou's hands and quickly gulping it down. Yakou tells him to pace himself not wanting him to choke. Once he exhales from the water drink, Yuma sheepishly apologizes for waking Yakou up with his scream, feeling like a burden. Yakou reassures him it's okay and decides to ask him the question of why he pushed himself this far while he was still awake. Hard enough to make himself sick. Why did he do it?

Yuma was surprised by this but decides to try to tell him. He hands the water glass back and began talking. Under his raspy voice and somewhat heavy breathing, he says that he wanted to be useful as he felt like a burden to everyone since he lost his memory. He also says that he likes helping others and that it feels familiar to him. Determined to try to unlock a core memory of his past he kept doing this, even to the point of pushing his limits.

Then he suddenly stopped speaking...

(Page 14)

...aaand cue the coughing fit. Yuma's throat got scratchy and irritated after his long explanation, causing him to cough about 5/8 times in a row. Not as bad as his previous fit but it was more than enough to startle and worry Yakou.

Yakou quickly hands Yuma the water glass he had just taken from him hoping it would soothe his throat. He tells him that helping others is a good thing but he shouldn't push himself to the point that his health gets affected. Yuma quietly nods and as he sips the water still shaking, Yakou feels bad and decides to apologize to him for being harsh before. Stating that he only lost his temper because he was scared and worried for him. He also places his hand to Yuma's cheek in both comfort and to check his temperature. It felt slightly warmer than a few hours ago.

Yuma quietly apologizes to Yakou for worrying him, still holding the water glass. Yakou forgives him. Then he takes the glass from him and then the towel that fell off Yuma's forehead. He grabs a fresh one and soaks it in the basin wringing it out and places it back on the trainee’s forehead unintentionally a bit roughly. Yuma groans and shivers a little from the cold of it.

Yakou then lies Yuma back down, tucking him back in trying to make him comfortable. But his actions were a bit too comforting. He was not meaning to in any way and he wasn't sure what came over him, but he was treating Yuma like a little kid. Yuma notices and feels a little embarrassed by it, but decides to only say it in his head.

Yakou decides to do one more thing before he lets him go back to sleep.

(Note: Hey far as anyone's concerned Yuma, you are practically his BABY when you are having a sick day, so deal with it hehehe :3c)

(Page 15)

Temperature taking page time :D (my favorite, teehee! I know some cultures and in anime they take the temperature under the arm, but there's just something so endearing and adorable about a sickie with a thermometer in their mouth <3 OKAY MY RAMBLING ASIDE...)

Yakou is now a bit concerned that Yuma's fever spiked again after that little harsh coughing fit so he decides to take his temperature one more time before letting Yuma go to sleep again. Yuma obliges and goes along with it opening his mouth as the device is inserted.

After 15 seconds the device beeps and Yakou takes it out. Yuma shyly pulls the duvet up to his face and hides as he meekly asks if its any better feeling a little nervous. Yakou responds that it is better than it was the first time, where it was a dangerous degree.

However, he still wasn't out of the woods yet. The fever was still there and although it went down, it was still in the red. Yakou states that he's still feverish to which Yuma just apologizes. Poor thing just wants this to be over, he really doesn't want to trouble anyone anymore.

(sorry yuma I can't let you off that easily hehe 😈)

(also yes I put an instruction manual for how the thermometer works, I am so obsessed that I even give the thermometer lore LMAO. Sorry if I'm inaccurate in any of those readings. I used google... ^^;)

(Page 16)

Yakou places the thermometer back on the desk and tells Yuma to go to sleep. Saying the fever will likely break by morning. To which Yuma states that he's in Yakou's bed and that he should return to the checkered sofa so his boss could sleep, attempting to try getting up. But Yakou puts a hand on his shoulder stopping him and denies this and says his desk is fine and that Yuma needed the bed more than him.

He also says that if Yuma had another bad dream that he would be there for him. Yuma smiles at Yakou quietly thanking him as he's tucked back into the duvet. Yakou pats it gently telling the trainee to close his eyes.

It isn't long before Yuma is back to being fast asleep. (and shinigami too)

Yakou monologues to himself for a bit groaning at how much trouble this small detective has been for him since he showed up. But then he switches his tune and places a hand to Yuma's head petting it softly. He says he's happy he's working hard for the sake of his memories but right now he needs to work on getting better. Saying it would help everyone in the agency if he wanted to help people.

He wishes him well continuing to pet his head for a bit longer to soothe him before going back to sleep himself turning the light off again.

(Page 17)

2 hours later, Yuma was stirring and whining in his sleep once again. Yakou groggily wakes up wiping his tired eyes upon hearing the soft noises the small trainee was uttering. And he was crying again. Can only be one thing: Another nightmare.

Instead of turning the light on to wake him up, Yakou moves his chair close to him sitting at his side. Not saying a single word. (cept in his head lol) He reaches his hand for Yuma's as it twitches and he takes hold of it gently.

Yakou eventually leans on the bed as he does so and falls asleep sitting up again. Yuma's groaning and and heavy breathing begin to settle down a little as he felt Yakou's presence close by.

Then he smiles as he closes his hand in his sleep holding Yakou's hand back, leaning a bit close to it. He felt safe again... <3

(Note: This poor thing has way too much trauma... ;w; I headcanon that he's prone to night terrors on occasion, but when he gets a fever, its even WORSE. Fevers do be messing with your head... x3)

(Page 18 Final)

The next morning when Yakou wakes up, he checks on Yuma. He still felt slightly warm but he looked much better. Seemed the worst was over and it would likely last just one more day.

When he's fully awake and at his desk, Desuhiko shows up asking Yakou if Yuma's okay and offered to wake him up. Yakou denies it saying Yuma needed one more day of rest, the fever may have been only slight now, but in the rain it would rise again easily.

Desuhiko agrees and declares that he's going to work hard today. Likely to make up for Yuma's absence. Yakou teases him and the two have a bit of a banter.

Yuma meanwhile is asleep peacefully. Still having a slight red tint to his cheeks, but he's able to sleep a lot easier now. His fever was slowly but surely breaking. (now in the yellow) Shinigami sleeps beside him, making sure she protects him from any nightmares in yakou's absence. (after all only SHE can give her master nightmares)

He wakes up fully recovered the following morning thanking everyone for taking such good care of him, and he makes sure to not push himself anymore. And continues searching for the city's ultimate secret while pacing himself to help others from now on.

THE END ❤️

(I practically made this into a sickfic in its own right... XD)

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed!! This is just a little artist credit page I made for Kazin and I c: Also art semi-face reveal?? xD Kinda?? Idk lol (we just two gals that like our sick comfort haha x3)

Anyway thank you again Kazin for doing this with me!! It was hard work but it was a blast and the final result came out amazing. Its surely a project I will cherish forever~ 💜🩷✨🌡️

A wholesome story to start 2024 on a good note.

[mondaymelon]

𖥔 ݁ ˖⩇⩇:⩇𝟣.𖥔 ݁ ˖

⤷ a halloween event hosted by @mondaymelon !!

taglist: @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @silaswritesthings, @neigesprincess, @mintydump, @kaeffeinee !!

“...That’s the briefing. Any questions?” Sango uncrossed her arms, glancing up from the paper she was reading off of. It was a chilly evening at the Bantan Sango Detective Agency, and you regretted not bringing an extra layer of clothing with you to work.

You sighed, your exhale turning white in the frosty air. The sky had already blended black, tiny pin pricks of bright stars resembling white paint scattered on a midnight canvas hung like a dusty backdrop. The days had been growing colder of late, and the maple leaves that loosely clung to the trees now blanketed the cobblestone streets. “Typical of you to hand me over to some tiring task right before the festival… that other guy, genius detective Shikanoin Heizou, why not ask him instead and spare me the trouble?”

The brunette’s expression grew strained. “You know I don’t talk to him anymore. Besides, he quit a long time ago. He works for the Tenryou commission now, and I hear that quite the skilled man. Wherever he is, he always finds a way to boast about him, I suppose…” Her voice trailed off with an exasperated groan. “It doesn’t matter. Are you going to take the job or not?”

“Do I really have a choice?” Judging by her scammer-like smile, you already knew the answer before you asked the question.

“Nope.” And just like that, she thrusted the manila folder of information into your arms, several pieces of paper flying out of it in the process. “Have fun, I’ll see you at the Halloween Festival later!” She sprinted away before you could even get in another word.

As expected. Sango was rather stone-faced, yet she only grew more and more animated as you got to know her. You didn’t know exactly what happened between her and that redhead detective, but you weren’t one to pry for details the other wasn’t willing to provide. Besides, you still had Ryuuji to pester for help… not. He had long since gone home for a weekend vacation.

“This is why I’m miserable.” You shook your head, reluctantly glancing through the information in the files given.

[ 48 missing people.

No attacks on children. Prime targets seem to be young adults regardless of gender.

Only three bodies have been retrieved.

Bodies are drained of blood. Puncture wounds in neck. Inscriptions on body...

Last event was Oct 24. Tanaka Oda, aged 24. Inferred to have gone missing at night. Had gambling problems but otherwise was a clean slate. ]

“Shit, this sounds like something from a legend… couldn’t these just be wild animal attacks?” You examined the photos, spotting the sunken eyes and dry flesh. “Ah, but unless it was an 8 foot tall bat… and the runes. How the fuck would a bat write? The work of a cult, maybe? Human sacrifice has been a thing before, and that would certainly explain the markings on the corpses, would it not…?” You didn’t have enough evidence to come to conclusions now, nor the sufficient amount of sleep. You had never exactly been the most intelligent, which made you question why Sango had even assigned this case to you in the first place. To give it to the least capable detective in the workforce must’ve meant that it must be an insignificant mystery, right? Then it’d only be a while until all the threads came unraveled. That, at the very least, provided you with a sense of comfort.

That sensation was a fleeting one, shattered by the shrill cry of a woman in the distance. High-pitched. Terrified. You snapped your head up, hastily shoving the evidence in your arm and sprinting towards the sound. It happened again, a broken cry piercing through the misty night. Smoky tendrils swirled in the air and curled around your ankles.

Where had the civilians gone? There wasn't a soul in sight. There were no lights in the windows. Food stands were left unattended as smoke rose from their stoves.

You pulled out into a clearing. There she was. She couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, her paper-white skin contrasting with the pink on her cheeks. Her kimono was strewn, creased as if someone had grabbed her with force. You could see the blood seeping from the bite wound on her neck. Her skin was icy cold. Her pulse had gone dead.

No. Not a wild animal.

This... A word, one spoken in storybooks, flashed in your mind.

There wasn't time to dwell on it. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. There was someone. In the alleyway. They had seen everything.

"Huk...!"

He made a sound, then his body crumpled to the ground.

His inanimate corpse glowed with a sinister energy. Lines of foreign words circling around his arms and chest blazed forth, shining a deep red against the black night. A tongue you couldn't comprehend. A forgotten, ancient language that had long since been buried.

His body gave a spasm, shaking. It was as if he was a doll, and his joints creaked and groaned as they bent in upon themselves. Where his heart should have resided instead was a crystal-cut ruby, quivering in the open air. His eyes bulged, and then they were no longer there, bursting into a fountain of red. Then, he stilled.

He didn't move again.

Silence. Suffocating. There was something building in the back of your throat. You could taste the bitter bile on your tongue.

"F...Fuck."

Two bodies, cruelly bent and misshapen. The woman in the clearing, the blood pooling from her wounds growing cold. Her face was an almost ashen gray, and her dead marble eyes stared blankly into the sky. What was there to look at?

Then, the man. Twisted arms hung morbidly from his frame. His bloody, mangled sockets lay bare as they gazed at nothing at all. His bloodied body slowly dissipated as ashes in the wind. It was the smell of iron.

You exhaled a shallow breath. You could feel the tremble of your hands as you held them over your mouth. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshit. You wanted to scream, cry. You shouldn't. You couldn't.

Droplets of crimson lay scattered on the ground. A trail of blood.

Blackened remains of the cursed. A trail of his ashes.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʀɪᴀʟ.

next

[hottpinkpenguin]

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader - Last of Us

A/N: i watched the first episode of Last of Us yesterday and suffice it to say that Joel Miller officially has a chokehold on me and i ain't complaining.

Warnings: dark themes; post-apocalyptic dystopia; death of reader's minor child; probably a lot of non-canon details since I've never played the game; not proofread; spoilers if you haven't seen the show/played the game Word Count: 2402 Abbreviations: QZ = quarantine zone; FDRA "Fedra" = Federal Disaster Response Agency

---

Dying was a way of life in the QZ. Seemed like everyone was dying lately. Fireflies, FDRA, and most of all the people in between. The lost and lonely. 

You met Joel shortly after you died. Your spirit died with your twelve year old son, Gabriel. The docs had told you it was most likely cancer. The fucking irony of that burned you from the inside out until you felt completely hollow. Just a shell of a person, really. Your emotions felt anesthetized, your brain in a perpetual fog. You went about your day from routine and muscle memory. You might as well have been infected. At least then you’d have some sort of purpose. Without Gabriel, you felt utterly useless. He’d brought you a sense of optimism, a reason to at least try and believe in the future. When you’d lost Gabriel’s father Eddie, you’d at least had your son. But without him. Well, without him, there wasn’t any you. You didn’t have a role anymore, didn’t add anything to anyone’s life. You couldn’t think of anything more death-like than waking up day after day to the realization that you didn’t matter to anyone. The night Joel met you, in fact, you had vague plans to drink yourself into oblivion and hopefully not wake up.

But, something changed when Joel ran into you. And he did literally run into you. 

You were walking back from the bus stop after a shift cleaning the killing floor of the poultry planet. A cold, drizzling rain soaked the streets in a fine layer of mist. You crossed your arms over your chest, tucking your head underneath the threadbare hood of Eddie’s old hunting jacket. For a few weeks after Eddie had died in a firefight between the Fireflies and FDRA, the jacket had smelled like him, and you’d taken up wearing it. Damn thing wasn’t too warm, but at least it was decently waterproof. That had been years ago. It was useless now, neither warm nor waterproof, but it was all you had. Everything else you’d sold. 

You were going through the usual calculations in your head, trying to figure out how you were going to scrounge together enough cards to get some hot food in your belly, when something - someone, you realized after he’d hit you - came tearing around the corner of an alley. You weren’t braced for it, and even your reflexes didn’t seem to care enough to break your fall. You hit the damp, cobbled pavement hard on your left shoulder, your head bouncing off the tar and sending stars across your vision. You heard a man’s voice swear as you blacked out…

*****

When you came to, you weren’t in the rain anymore. Your head throbbed and you didn’t dare move in case you vomited. You were resting on something soft, albeit a little lumpy, and there was a blanket wrapped around you. Your head was propped up on a musty smelling pillow and there was a fire crackling nearby. Your shoulder was screaming in pain, and against your better judgment you twisted as gently as you could manage to try and relieve the pressure on your joint. Your gut turned, and you leaned over to wretch as far from yourself as you could. With the first sound of gagging, you felt cold, rough hands grab the hair around your face and pull it away from your mouth as a bucket was shoved in front of your face. 

“Good, you’re awake.” A man’s voice.

You peaked towards the voice through slitted eyelids. The faint, hazy light through a dingy window felt like someone was driving a drill bit into your temple. 

“That’s a shame,” you rasped out, earning a dark chuckle from the man sitting across from you. The laugh didn’t reach his eyes. He had the same thousand-mile stare that most people in the QZ had. You couldn’t guess his age - that was another thing survivors had in common. Nothing ages you like the Apocalypse, Eddie used to say. 

“Pretty sure you’re concussed.” 

You nodded, trying to swallow down the acidic taste of bile-vomit. 

“Pretty sure you concussed me,” you shot back. Another chuckle, this one a bit fuller. 

“Yeah, that’d be me. Sorry about that. I had FDRA on my heels.” You shrugged, trying to push yourself up on the couch. Another wave of nausea tore through your head, but there wasn’t anything to vomit up except saliva. You managed to swallow it down, closing your eyes again to stop the spinning sensation. 

“I’ve got some broth cooking,” the man went on. “I think you should eat a bit. Settle your stomach. You’ve been out for almost 24 hours.” 

You did an idle calculation in your head, automatically tallying up the date. November 29. Not that it mattered, but it was a habit you hadn’t been able to shake ever since the outbreak. 

“Not hungry,” you replied, biting down on your tongue against another spasm in your gut.

“Yeah, but you need to eat. Looks like you don’t do that too often.” You shot the man the darkest look you could muster. You’d learned long ago not to trust men who commented on your appearance. 

“You look sick is all I mean,” your companion added apologetically. He thrust you a bowl with a watery-thin, yellow liquid in it, a curled tongue of steam rising from its surface and an old dented spoon sticking out of the broth. 

“Just try it,” he encouraged you as you eyed him suspiciously. He was big, you realized, tall and strong. One of those QZ guys who lived hard and had the muscles to speak for it. It wasn’t the same kind of physique that people had before the outbreak: lean, toned, all for show. Fitness wasn’t a luxury anymore. It was a necessity for most people in the QZ. Some lines of work required it more than others. And judging by the strong forearm that handed you the bowl, whatever this guy did, it was serious business. 

You accepted the bowl, relishing the warmth of the ceramic between your hands. Your stomach growled as the smell of chicken broth tickled your nostrils. You took a tentative sip, burning your tongue. Your movements were slow and deliberate. 

“Joel.” 

“Huh?” You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at your companion.

“Joel. My name’s Joel,” he clarified. 

You nodded, taking another sip of the broth. Even though moving made you sick to your stomach, your body was reacting hungrily to the taste. 

“Y/N,” you replied after a few moments of silence. Normally, you’d give a fake name. But, what was the point? Even with your real name, Joel didn’t have anything of yours to use against you. There wasn’t anything left to hurt you by. 

“You were Gabriel’s mother, weren’t you?” 

You froze, the spoon halfway to your lips. The sound of Gabriel’s name tore through you like lightning. The heart you’d forgotten you had twisted painfully in your chest.

“What the fuck did you say?” Anger came to the surface first. Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Gabriel. Sweet kid. Saw him hanging around the gate a couple times.” If Joel noticed your reaction, he didn’t let on. He was idly poking a burning log in an old, dirty fireplace. 

You didn’t know what to say, couldn’t make yourself speak. Even if you had, you didn’t trust yourself not to dissolve. Joel hadn’t met you before, yet somehow he’d managed to grab onto the only thread of humanity you still had. One tug on that thread and you were unraveling. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him. Awful shit, cancer. My sister had it, back before… before shit went sideways.” Joel wasn’t looking at you, didn’t even seem to be talking to you. You couldn’t breathe. Gabriel’s name still echoed inside your ears.

“I lost my little girl, too. Sarah. When the outbreak happened. In Texas.”

Joel finally turned to face you. His eyes were empty, and you recognized that emptiness. It mirrored your own. 

“You’ll never get over it, if you’re wondering. Not that you are. Because you already know. I can see it.” Tears dripped off your chin onto the blanket in your lap. You didn’t know how long you’d been crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered out after a few silent, empty moments. 

Across the room from you, Joel nodded.

“Yeah. Me too.” 

You finished the rest of your broth in silence. It was the longest conversation you’d had with anyone in weeks, and somehow you’d never felt more alone.

*****

You spent the next couple of days in a liminal space between healing and falling apart. Joel’s acknowledgment of Gabriel had broken something loose inside you, and as your head began to clear, you felt the grief all the more. It felt different than before, even right after you lost him. Gabriel’s death had cored the soul out of your body. Now, whatever was happening was infinitely more painful. You hated it, but you also hadn’t realized how much you’d missed feeling things. Even though what you felt was agonizing, it was affirming in a fucked up way to know you weren’t incapable of emotion.

Joel maintained his silence on the subject. In fact, he was generally silent. You exchanged a handful of words here and there, usually in response to him asking about your health. 

How’s the head?

Fine.

Good.

After about a week, the questions took a different quality.

When do you think you’ll be ready to go?

Go where?

Anywhere you need to.

I don’t have anywhere I need to go.

OK. 

You didn’t take offense to his questions, and he didn’t take offense to your responses. There was a companionable bluntness to your interactions. He asked after the basics - did you have what you needed, were you sick, hungry, cold - and you answered simply and honestly. No follow ups, no games, no need to converse on anything. In fact, after the first conversation you’d had about Gabriel and Sarah, you and Joel didn’t talk about anything at all. 

It was the eighth day when you finally felt well enough to stand up and cook. Joel was out - where, you didn’t know - but you thought you’d heat something up for him. An hour before curfew, you moved into the kitchen and started looking through the cabinets. He’d been good about sharing his food with you, and you knew enough of QZ life to know that sparing food wasn’t something everyone would do. And he hadn’t broached the subject of repayment. You doubted he ever would; despite his gruffness, Joel had a core of generosity. You didn’t know anyone anymore who would let a complete stranger spend a week on their couch, no matter how sick they were. 

You found a can of split pea soup in the back of the pantry and an opened package half-full of saltines. You picked out the crackers that didn’t have mold on them while the soup heated over the single gas burner Joel used for cooking. The light was fading outside; curfew was a few minutes away. Right on time, you heard Joel’s key in the lock on the apartment door. A few seconds later, Joel walked into the kitchen.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner,” you replied, gesturing to the two barstools he had tucked up the kitchen counter. He sat, letting out a bone-weary sigh as he threw off his boots, chucking them towards the hall where the door was. 

“Long day?” you asked idly. For some reason, you felt an urge to make conversation that you hadn’t noticed before around him. Maybe it was vestiges of your old life. Memories of entertaining Eddie while you made dinner flicked in your mind. Or maybe it was because something felt different about Joel today.

“Sure,” he replied flatly. You heard the sound of his flask opening, followed by a thick gulp. He drank a lot. You’d noticed that quickly. It didn’t bother you, and he was as generous with the whiskey as he was with his food.

“When are you leaving?” His question was angry. You turned to look at him, not exactly insulted but faintly stung. 

“I told you, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“That’s not what you said. You said there’s nowhere you need to go, not that there’s nowhere you can go.” You nodded once. Joel was right. The distinction felt accusatory, and you once again had the impression that he was about to speak to a part of you that you didn’t want said out loud. Just like he’d done that first night when he’d talked about Gabriel.

You sucked in a breath before turning to face him, sliding a plate of the edible saltines across the counter. 

“I can leave anytime you need me to,” you said, your voice soft and quiet. “I’m feeling good enough to travel.” 

Joel looked into you for a breath. His eyes looked the same, but you had the distinct impression that they weren’t as empty as the first time you’d seen him. Whatever it was you saw in his gaze, it made you feel ashamed, and you broke eye contact. 

He shifted on the barstool before taking another generous swig from his flask. 

“Good. Tonight.”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It’s almost curfew,” you pointed out, nodding in the direction of the window to the street below.

“Fine. Tomorrow then.” His voice was hard as stone.

You nodded, stirring the soup and turning away from him. You didn’t want him to see the rejection in your eyes. You couldn’t say what you’d wanted, but all you knew was this wasn’t it. 

“Tomorrow,” you agreed quietly. 

Joel sat for another instant. You sensed that he was waiting for something: you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you or waiting for something in himself. Whatever it was he was waiting on, the moment passed. He sighed, frustrated, before he scooted away from the counter and went to the couch. He didn’t say anything when you brought him the soup, and he didn’t say anything when he went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him to drink himself to sleep. You were awake and gone before he came out the next morning, although somehow you knew that he was wide awake, listening to the sound of your departure through the door.

**part 2 here!! Let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters

[something-about-sunflowers]

I kinda feel like too many people aren't looking at the whole picture with Guillermo and Nandor/his family this season?

Guillermo knows, to a certain extent, that it's hurting Nandor that he's avoiding him. He just can't not avoid him because of the whole 'secretly turned by another vampire and Nandor will have to kill him then himself for the sake of his bruised honor/ego' thing.

Guillermo is also hurting though. His attempt to take some agency for himself by actively pursuing something he's wanted since before he even met Nandor has massively backfired on him in every possible way he couldn't even begin to expect. He didn't know he'd have a Weird Transformation. He didn't know there was some taboo for having another vampire turn him as Nandor's familiar (and he's not actually Nandor's familiar anymore anyway, technically, they're all just dumb and forgot that fact). He, comparatively, only recently found out about the whole Van Helsing thing and that his family can't control themselves around vampires (though I feel like it probably will be different with their Memo, if we're being honest), so he very likely thought for most of his time waiting for Nandor to turn him that he'd still be able to see them occasionally and get/give closure over a longer period of time before he had to stop seeing them when it became obvious he wasn't aging like they were.

He does care about his mom, yall, did you miss him breaking down in the elevator or were you just distracted by him breaking the hand-rail? He's just been very preoccupied with a whole lot of drama (Which he complained about! He told Nandor how upset he was that the wedding and Baby Colin were keeping him too busy to see his family! The end of season 4 was days before the start of season 5.) and an extreme life change. He's an adult. That kind of shit happens when you're an adult (granted, his situation is significantly more fantastical given the whole vampires thing but still). Sometimes you get caught up in your adult life and you miss your mom's birthday. Sometimes you make a big life change that you think is what's best for you and it means you won't be able to be as close to your family. Yes. It's selfish of him - to an extent - but for fuck's sake you can't live your life for other people, even - especially, in some cases - if those people are your family. I'm kind of appalled at people saying that he's deserving to feel bad and rejected because he made a choice for himself. Do you think his mom is blaming him as harshly as some of you are? No! The first thing she asked him was 'are you happy with this change?' She cares about her son's happiness. He's not entirely in the right but fuck do yall know how to do anything but swing hard in the other direction? There's grey areas! All in the middle! Right there, look!!

And then on top of him already being extremely emotionally compromised from reckoning with having to leave his family behind, on top of the already 'emotionally difficult' avoiding Nandor for both of their sakes, he gets another big rejection in his own home from the people he cares most about. I don't know if Nandor noticed that his rejection hurt Guillermo. He's dumb but I really don't know if he's that dumb. He's been able to recognize in the past when he's hurt Guillermo so I don't see why he couldn't now. Are yall gonna blame Memo for feeling bad if Nandor decides to do something to try and win him back or cheer him up? Or if Nandor is upset/worried about having hurt Guillermo?

I don't really know where I'm going with this anymore lmao. My point is: Yes, Guillermo's choice is hurting people but it's also hurting him and he's been hurt for a while now and hurt people hurt people (which is why Nandor lashed out too!) so cut him a little bit of slack maybe? He didn't do anything to intentionally hurt anyone he just wanted to take some agency back for himself that he's been missing for like. Ten. Thirteen years or so now.

[givemea-dam-break]

heyy could you do anthony lockwood x reader, where they used to be best friends but something bad happens to the reader and they stop talking and after years the reunite because of a case. maybe angst and fluff

a/n: absolutely!!! i had an idea for something like this, so i hope you enjoy! there isn't too much fluff, just as a warning, but there's lots of angst lol :)

warnings: mentions of death, language gn reader

part 2

You shouldn't have come back to London.

After years of being away, it all feels so unfamiliar, so busy and suffocating. There's so much going on, so much noise, that it's overwhelming and you can barely breathe. Once, London was home. Once, London held everything you called dear. Not anymore. Now, it is a strange land of bright lights and rapier-bearing children. But nothing has changed about it. Only you.

The taxi you occupy turns onto a quieter street, free of traffic and pedestrians, yet somehow it feels worse being here. The houses tower above you like looming monsters, waiting to swallow you whole.

Stepping out of the taxi is the second hardest part of this whole ordeal. The hardest? Ringing the doorbell.

An iron line is inlaid in the ground at your feet, dampened by dust and muck and faint imprints of muddy shoes. The flowerboxes beneath the ground floor windows are slightly overgrown but bursting with colour. Even outside, there's a faint smell of tea and toast.

When the front door opens, your heart lurches in your chest with nerves. A girl, likely the same age as you, stands there, her hair bobbed and her eyes bright, offering you a smile that hides a little confusion.

"Hello," she says, her accent distinctly northern. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," you say, trying to push down your unease. "I was hoping to get an appointment? I know I've not booked ahead, and understand if you're busy, but I have a problem with a few ghosts."

She hesitates before saying, "Of course. Come in. I'll get my colleagues. Do you want any tea, a coffee, maybe? Some water?"

"No, thank you," you murmur, stepping into the house. You're worried if you drink anything that you'll throw it all up.

The house is cluttered, to put it simply. Masks from dozens of different countries hang on the walls. Rapiers are set in an umbrella stand next to a shoe rack. The rug running down the hallway is old-fashioned and tattered. A crystal skull provides light from a sideboard.

Nothing has changed.

The girl, who introduces herself as Lucy, gestures you into the living room and you sit on the aged sofa, picking at the skin around your nails as she hurries off to the kitchen to get the other two members of the agency. When she returns, she's carrying a tray of biscuits.

A boy with dark hair walks in first, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose as he studies you. He sits on the sofa across from you, close to the door, his interest shifting from you to the tray of goodies on the coffee table. His name is George, you are told, and he gives a distracted wave, pulling a notebook out of a side-table drawer and opening it up to a tattered page.

It's when the second boy steps through the door that you want to up and run. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he looks the most professional out of the lot, carrying the company's 'prestigious' title on his shoulders. His hair, neatly brushed, falls across his brow above a pair of dark, shining eyes, and he's grinning in such a charming and polite manner that it makes you feel a little more at ease.

It melts when he realises who you are.

"(name)?" he says incredulously. "(name) (last name)?"

Lucy sits on the same sofa as George, frowning. "You two know each other?"

Anthony Lockwood has not moved from the doorway. He looks at you, wide-eyed with lips parted in shock, and your hands shake so you stuff them in the pockets of your jacket.

"We did once," he says after a moment. "What can I do for you?"

As he moves to the armchair closest to your sofa, his movements are stiff and tense. You try to keep your gaze away from him, worried you'll implode if you look at him for too long. You really shouldn't have come here, but you don't trust anyone else to help you. Not Fittes, not Rotwell, not Tendy's, not any of the big agencies.

"I've got an issue with two ghosts," you say.

George snorts, and Lucy elbows him. "Don't we all?"

Lockwood ignores him. "How so?"

Swallowing your anxiousness, you say, "My mum and aunt... Well, to make a long story short, they got in an accident about a month ago and didn't survive. Since then, at night, it's been freezing in the house, and my dad - he's not doing well. It's a given, because of what's happened, but this is much worse. Like the life is being drained out of him. And then I started seeing their ghosts. They creep down the hallway at night, talking to each other and crying, and my dad isn't getting better. I need you guys to get rid of them."

The words are hard to say, and you have to ignore the expressions on the agents' faces lest you break apart into a million pieces and start crying.

Lockwood is the first to speak. "(name), I'm so sorry -"

"I don't want condolences," you cut in sharply. "I want them gone."

George pauses writing in his notebook. "You're our age, right? Can't you get rid of them yourself?"

"George!" Lucy scolds. "This is their family, it's not that easy."

"I'm not an agent," you say. "I was never trained to be one. I've always had plans for higher education, so my parents kept me out of that field. Believe me, if I could do it myself, I would. This is a last resort for me. London is the last place I want to be, right now."

You don't add that this house is specifically where you hate being. You definitely don't add that the boy sitting mere feet away from you probably wishes you were on the other side of the country, and that you feel a similar way. It's hard even sitting in his house after everything that's happened.

"Look, I just need to help my dad," you continue. "Every day, their spirits seem to be draining him and I don't know why. We're just a half an hour out of London in this little town. It's not far, I swear."

"Why not get Fittes?" Lockwood asks, and his voice shocks you. The tenderness in it. The care. "They operate nationwide. We're London-based."

"I don't - I don't trust anyone else to do this." Anxiously, you pick a biscuit from the tray, and George seems to heave a sigh of relief, plucking one for himself. "If it were some ghost we didn't know, then, yeah, whatever. But this is my family. I don't want strangers dealing with them."

"That's exactly what we are," George reminds you around his biscuit.

"Not me," Lockwood says. "(name), we'd be more than happy to help you. And I'm sorry to hear about their deaths. It can't be easy."

Shrugging, you say, "I'm coming to terms with it. How soon can you come?"

The three agents share a look and Lockwood says, "Within the next few days. We just need to do some research and get some equipment. Is that all right?"

You nod, taking a bite of the biscuit and cringing at the taste. This isn't the flavour you like - you meant to pick up the biscuit next to it.

"Lucy, George, can you guys head to the Archives soon and get some research done? I'm going to speak to (name) for a little longer."

Both nod, casting glances between you and Lockwood, before disappearing into the hallway and gently closing the door behind them. Your heart lurches with anxiety, and you want to curl up in a ball and hide from Lockwood's gaze.

"You look different," he says after a moment of silence. "You got your hair cut."

"You sound different," you retort. "I suppose puberty finally caught up to you."

He breathes a laugh, but it's slightly strained. It's not easy being here with him, but you've got to get through it or things won't get better at home. You can't just sit and watch the only family you have waste away.

So, here you stay, trying not to look at Lockwood for too long. A heavy, tense silence hangs over you both, interrupted only by Lucy's and George's voices and the front door slamming shut as they leave.

"They both seem nice," you murmur, placing your biscuit down on the tray. "How'd you guys meet?"

Lockwood looks like he's been shaken from a daze. "I met George after he'd been fired from Fittes and we became friends, set up the company. Lucy came a little while after looking for a job. It's just been us for the last year."

"I've heard about all the work you guys have done," you say. "Exciting stuff, huh? I saw your face in a newspaper at the train station earlier."

He grins proudly, and you see his mother in his smile. It takes you by shock, thinking of his mum after so long, and grief clutches at your heart. Here you both sit after years of being apart, both motherless, both fatherless in your own different ways. So long ago, your differences were what tore you apart. Now, they've brought you together again. You're not sure how to feel about it.

"So..." The smile fades a little, and he sits back. Everything in his posture screams comfort and ease, but you can see the twitch in his fingers and apprehension in his eyes. "How have you been? It's been, what, three years since you left?"

I didn't have a choice, you want to say. Family issues were what caused you to move away from London, but Lockwood had never been able to see it that way. After the deaths of his parents and sister, he only ever saw it as you leaving him. His shouts from the day you told him seem to echo in the silence of the room now.

"Three and a bit," you say. "I've stuck in school, applied for universities. It's just a waiting game now, seeing who accepts and who doesn't. What about you?"

He shrugs. "Same old. Getting rid of ghosts. Throwing darts at a picture of you on my wall."

You know it's a joke to try and lighten the mood, but something in your chest hurts when he says that.

"Are you still mad about me going?" you ask. "Lockwood, you know I didn't have a say in that."

"Doesn't matter now. It was years ago."

A frown slips onto your lips, and you shift on the sofa uncomfortably. Anger is rising in your chest, threatening to break free, but you can't let it. You need him to get rid of your ghosts, and he likely won't do that if you're shouting at him.

"Look, I get it, you felt like I left you, but I didn't. I sure as hell didn't want to. I mean, I begged my parents to let me just stay here with you, but I didn't have a choice. If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at them."

"I was fourteen -"

"So was I!" The words escape your mouth before you can stop them. "What did you want me to do? And, no, I don't want a bullshit, Stay. I wanted you to fight. Because that's what I did. But I was fourteen, Lockwood, and I didn't have a choice."

A muscle twitches in his cheek and his jaw sets as he looks away from you. "Like I said, doesn't matter now."

"It does matter," you insist. "The only person I have left in my life is my dad who's slowly dying. I've made no friends back home. I've got nobody. I was hoping... God, I don't know what I was hoping by coming back here. That maybe you would've gotten over this stupid grudge?"

He hesitates as if about to say something, but he stops himself short, opting to stare out of the window behind you.

"You're the only friend I've ever had, that's why I trust you to help me out. And I thank you for agreeing to it, but do we have to carry on like this? With you mad at me for something that wasn't my fault?"

"You did write me a letter in which you called me a 'selfish prick' and a 'conceited asshole' among a few other things," he comments.

Screw not getting angry.

"Because you didn't even see me off the day I left!" You stand from the sofa, hands closed in fists by your sides. Your nails are cutting into the skin of your palms. "We even came here so I could say goodbye, but you refused to open the door."

"Did you think I could face seeing you leave?" he demands. He looks at you now, his gaze edging on a harsh glare. "The only person I had left leaving me behind. I was hurt, (name). I would've only prolonged it by seeing you."

You grit your teeth. "You are unbelievable."

"You're no better."

Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a few ten-pound notes and a slip of paper, and slap them on the coffee table. "A deposit for the job and our address. My dad and I won't be in, so you won't need to worry about us being in the way. Give that number a call, and we'll head back to pay the rest of the fee."

Lockwood stares down at the money for a moment before looking back at you. "You don't have to pay us for this. We're friends."

"Oh, so now we're friends?"

It's hard to keep the scowl off your face. Slowly, Lockwood stands, as if trying not to startle you with quick movements. There's a look in his eyes, similar to one he'd get when you were mad when you were kids and wanted to try and calm you down.

"I'm going to pay you for this," you say, "because, otherwise, you might bail on us, and I am not risking my dad's health for your fucked-up need to keep grudges on the wrong people. So take the money, and call the number when you're done. After that, you won't need to see me again, all right? I'll be out of your life for good, leaving you to your new friends and flourishing business while I fuck off somewhere else in the country for the rest of my life."

Once more, he hesitates. "What will you do at uni?"

The attempt to ease the conversation back to awkward politeness enrages you, but you suck in a deep breath to calm yourself and say, "History. I'm going to explore the world and hear about the cultures and practices surrounding ghosts. Someone I was once close to inspired that."

Lockwood may well believe that you're talking about his parents, who famously travelled to many countries in search of information, but they are not the reason. He is.

Despite it all, despite the things he's said to you in the past and the pain you've felt from dozens of letters pleading for a response only to be left unanswered, he's the reason for many things you do. Why you make your bed the way you do; why you put honey in your tea and sugar in your coffee; why you still wear a single ring on your right hand, matched only by one other. One that he still wears.

"I'll see you in a few days," you say tightly. "After that, you'll have no need to see me again."

Softly, softer than you thought possible, he says, "And what if I want to see you again?"

"Well, you have my face on your wall to throw darts at, remember?"

"I'm being serious, (name). Look, I'm sorry for... everything. We can work it out over coffee someday, or something, maybe?"

You hesitate, thinking about his offer. Your heart longs to, to be sitting with your childhood best friend once more and working through your issues. Maybe you'll be able to be friends again, maybe to be something more like you had so wished years ago - well, if you could ever feel that way about him again. But the bitterness of betrayal still clings to your heart.

"Get rid of the ghosts," you say, hand now resting on the handle of the living room's door, "and we'll see."

A little smile tugs on his lips, relieved that you haven't flat-out refused him.

"Just know that I'm only here for a few more months. Then I'm moving to university. If you're not too worried about me 'leaving' you, I'll consider the coffee. But only then. I'm not going to put myself through a pointless conversation if we're just going to have a repeat of last time."

"We won't," he says.

And despite the pain of the memories, you believe him. Because you always have. Maybe that will be your downfall.

[makethatelevenrings]

“I trust you, it’s ok” is soooo Assassin verse 👁️👁️

Sooo true bestie hope u enjoy this :)

He stood in the doorway and watched as you carefully stepped into the room. The walls were littered with posters and pictures of bands to circus performances to photos of the numerous people that came and went from this place. The covers on the bed were rumpled, the bed unmade, and your fingers ghosted over the rich blue plaid detailing on the comforter. Medals and trophies filled a shelf next to books that had pages sticking out, scrawled handwriting detailing calculus equations and English essays.

You swallowed past the sudden dryness in your throat as you took in this perfectly domestic life. A heavy breath escaped you and you pushed aside the sudden clawing ache of loneliness that bubbled up in your chest. Was this the life you could have had?

“Why are you showing me this?” You settled on asking. “You don’t…I tried to kill you. Repeatedly. This is your life. This is personal.”

Your voice was bordering on hysterical by the end of your words. After being shot a week ago, your life had descended into chaos. Bruce Wayne, Batman, was Dick’s father. Dick, who was Nightwing, your target for the past few months. He had known about your hit on him, but he also had intel that the organization that trained you would continue if he didn’t stop them. He figured he could get information from you, but you suspected that he hadn’t factored in taking you in full time.

And now you stood in his childhood bedroom in this massive manor where a kind butler insisted on helping you do everything and Bruce Wayne drank his coffee black with one sugar in the morning and Dick Grayson kept assuring you that you were safe.

But how could you be safe? Everything you knew, everything you had been told, and everything you had done in life was being slowly chipped away to reveal the horrific truth. You were a victim of kidnapping, trafficking, and unspeakable crimes. You were a child soldier turned assassin. The ground under your feet shook with every revelation, every new strand that was revealed in this tangled spider’s web of hell.

“I trust you,” Dick said simply as if he were just talking about the weather and not an emotionally charged statement that made your chest tighten. “It’s okay.”

You wanted to protest and tell him that he shouldn’t. You weren’t someone to be trusted. You were someone that followed orders and that was it. You had tried to kill him for fuck’s sake.

He must have seen the distress on your face because he called your name softly because you had a name, not just that stupid fucking number. Bruce had correlated your identity with missing persons reports and matched your DNA with the case. Your family was gone. There was no one out there looking for you any longer. But there was this one man standing before you, saying your name and giving you a chance to reclaim your agency.

He spoke your name with a softness that you didn’t deserve and it made the wound under your bandages burn with the lingering reminder of who you were. Were. Past tense. You didn’t have to be that person anymore if you didn’t want to be. Dick had told you that. Alfred had told you that. Even Dinah, a therapist who apparently specialized with people like you, told you that.

Looking around the childhood room of a man that trusted you, you began to realize that maybe they were right.

Dick grinned when he saw the fiery spark return to your eyes. He tilted his head and motioned towards the hall.

“C’mon, there’s someone I want you to meet. I think you might find a lot in common with him. I warn you though, he really likes making zombie jokes. Ignore those.”