Home Routine Because This Is What I Really Need

15. waka's girl

★ pairings: plug!wakasa imaushi x f!reader

★ synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your bf stop you from finding ur hubby)

★ content warning: smut, angst, lotta porn w a lotta plot, car sex, dealer wakasa, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, smut in this chap... going out w a bang...

★ a/n: I never thought id be writing this... omg... but after almost a year, we are finally at the end of party monster!!!! I feel so emotional writing this up. I don't wanna spend too much time yapping, so I'll finish this a/n at the end teehee... but I spent sm time on this chapter so I hope u all like it!! enjoy the final installment of my fave ff ive ever written!

★ w.c.; 7.4k

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THE FEELING OF WETNESS on your skin roused you from your slumber. Groggily, you glanced up at the ceiling. It was higher than you remembered, a little grander. In fact, the bed you woke up in didn’t seem to have been yours at all. It was a hell of a lot bigger, and it had wine red sheets laid over it.

There was a black cat on top of your chest. He was a lightweight thing, small paws pressing into your skin while he peered down at you curiously. His eyes were yellow, almost unreal. The cat hopped off of you.

You glanced down at your arm, the one that was crossed over your stomach. There was a wet patch on the skin there, like the feline fellow had licked you.

He had a cat?

There was a body next to you, a warmth – and you felt yourself breathe a sigh of relief. So it wasn’t a dream.

Slowly, you rolled over. Wakasa was sleeping peacefully next to you, golden brown lashes fanning over his rose-dusted cheeks, lips parted ever-so-slightly. His hair was down and slightly wavy, golden rays cascading over the red satin pillowcase like a halo around his face.

You felt your heart jump at the sight.

You reached out for him, pulling the stray hairs away from his nose and his mouth. He stirred, but only slightly, easing back into a deep sleep while you traced your finger over the slopes and valleys of his pretty face.

The black cat crawled into the gap between the two of you. He sniffed at Waka’s hair – who scrunched his nose up in his sleep. Finally, he turned around, letting his silky black tail glide over Waka’s nose as he settled down into the bed between you.

Waka woke up a moment later, tired eyes blinking slowly while he appeared to be remembering yesterday’s events – just as you had. A hundred million memories were trapped within the confines of his lavender hues, blinking at you like you had just been spat out from the heavens.

“G’mornin’,” He grumbled, the faintest grin flitting over his lips despite his apparent distaste for early mornings.

“Mornin’, Waka,” His name rolled off your tongue like butter. It felt natural. 

He folded the sheets down away from his face, stretching. 

“So…” You began, trailing off. There was an elephant in the room. “Last night…”

Wakasa chuckled. “Not g’nna tell me you regret it again, are ‘ya?”

“No, just that I meant it,” You sighed. It felt nice to admit that to him after all this time. “The part about lovin’ you. I meant it.”

He sighed, laying his head back on the pillow and smiling at the ceiling – you think. “Good,” he replied. “I meant it, too.”

And you felt the worries melt away. Felt your eyes crease as you leaned in closer to him, brushing your lips against his in a tender kiss. Then another. He was intoxicating. It made your head spin with bliss.

You pulled away when you felt him deepen the kiss. “Nooo,” You whined. “I have morning breath.”

Waka gripped your chin, deepening the kiss anyway – a borderline nasty mix of your morning breath and his, but you didn’t even care. Your hands found their way to his shoulders instinctively.

When he broke away, that grin was still on his face.

“We still on f’tonight?” He asked.

You glanced down at your surprisingly un-naked body. You were wearing one of his tee shirts.

“Yeah,” You said after a brief pause. “I should probably go home and get into some fresh clothes.”

Waka pouted. “You’re leavin’ me?”

“You’re literally gonna see me in, like, six hours,” You retorted, sliding out of bed with a great deal of effort. Your back was completely shot.

You really ought to remember you were going on 30.

When you turned around, he was still pouting. It was a little funny, actually. Here he was, a grown ass man, pouting while you threatened to leave the warm confines of his bed. Oddly domestic, but not entirely undesirable. 

You realized you could probably get used to this.

“I’ll be countin’ the seconds,'' he hummed, finally dropping his faux-angry facade in favor of snuggling into the wine-colored sheets. His cat hopped up over his legs, crawling over to him and curling up against his bare chest. 

With a faint smile, Waka petted his hands over the cat’s fur. He looked up at you, offering, “Matter of fact, can I take you home?”

You thought for a moment, briefly remembering that you really didn’t have another way home. Waka had been your form of transportation last night.

You shrugged, “Alright.”

Wakasa grinned like a child on christmas morning, hopping out of bed. He jogged over to you – still remarkably shirtless, though he had the decency to have put a new pair of boxers on.

You poked a playful finger into his chest, warning him, “No funny business, you hear? You’re gonna drop me off out front. You’re not coming inside.”

“I can do that,” he chuckled rather boyishly, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Waka,” You reiterated sternly. “I mean it. You’re not coming inside. Say it, say ‘I’m not coming insi–’”

“I’m not coming inside,” he sped out. Reaching into a drawer in the bedside table, he pulled out a shirt. “Now let’s go.”

There was some odd feeling you couldn’t shake as you gazed at your reflection in your pocket mirror. You looked… good. Better than you had in ages, actually.

Your eyebags had been covered up – thanks to some trusty concealer and a vision. Your lips were painted a deep shade of red, the same color Takeomi had always told you he hated. The same could be said about your lashes, which were done up with black mascara and curled to perfection. The slightest hint of red dusted your cheeks. 

You looked good.

Snapping the handheld mirror shut, you sighed. You glanced up at the wooden door in front of you. There was a wooden plaque to your left, one that was faintly illuminated by a warm light. It read; ARAGAWA.

You smoothed your hands over your black evening dress. 

You were here. You were actually here.

When you opened the oak door, you were greeted by a man with a warm smile. Immediately, you caught a whiff of something distinctly expensive – perfume, steak, wine. He was wearing a well-sculpted black suit. “Good evening, Miss, Welcome to Aragawa. Do you have a reservation?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I think…” You bit the inside of your lip. “I’m not sure what name he put it under, though. Imaushi Wakasa?”

“Miss [L/N], my apologies,” The man’s expression changed, as if the grand reveal of your reservation had caused him to warm up instantaneously. He stepped out from behind the table, gesturing to the small, carpeted set of stairs which led into the dining room. “Right this way, please. Emi will escort you to your table.”

You nodded politely, mustering an awkward smile. You stepped back, making your way down the aforementioned steps. 

There was a woman waiting for you off to the side. She had a short, brown bob and a cute button nose. The neckline of the black dress she wore plunged below her breasts. Against your better judgment, you felt your eyes wander.

She bowed in greeting when she saw you, “Good evening. Please follow me.”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, smiling warmly as she led you further into the dining room. The place looked expensive. There was red carpet all over the floors, amber and gold art all over the walls, and lantern lights over every table. There was a bar at the side of the room. She led you past it. 

The hostess stopped in front of a wooden stairway – one that led up. She turned to you and gestured to the stairs. “Right up these stairs, miss.”

“Thank you,” You bowed ever-so-slightly.

Somehow, you felt out of place at a restaurant like this.

As you made your way up the stairs, you felt your heart begin to race. 

The corridor you came into was dimly lit. There were two private dining rooms, one on your right and one on your left. You turned your head both ways, searching for a sign of your date. When you looked to your left for the second time, you saw him.

He was sitting at a circular table, a menu propped up in his hands. He looked so handsome that you felt your fucking heart do a somersault. 

The room was small, but it looked bougie. There was a golden Chandelier above the table. Behind the table, a large wooden shelf displayed bottles of red wine with expensive names – Sauvignon, Merlot, and so many more. A tasteful painting hung next to a set of double doors, behind which you could only assume lie the kitchen.

The wine-colored napkins were folded neatly on the table, along with a set of silverware, a fancy-looking wine glass, and an empty water glass.

You sauntered into the private dining room with your head down and your hands clasped around your clutch purse. Wakasa noticed you the moment you arrived, pretty eyes twinkling beneath the warm candle light as they flitted up to you. Immediately, his resting bitch face melted into a familiar grin.

“Long time no see, princess,” He greeted you. Before you could sit down, he stood up – and, shit, if your heart wasn’t racing before, it was now. 

He was dressed to the nines tonight, something uncharacteristically nice. It should have been illegal for a white suit jacket to fit someone’s body like that, tailored curves hugging the slopes of his waist and shoulders. He wore a black dress shirt beneath – first few buttons undone, just the way you knew he normally liked to wear his shirts. The matching slack hugged his hips and fell loosely over his legs. He had a gold chain around his neck, one that glimmered beneath the romantic lighting.

And his hair – fuck – his hair was done back into a bun. A single intentional strip of hair was left out to frame his handsome face. His eyes, his lips, his cheekbones, his chiseled jaw… he was perfect.

“That dress is perfect on you,” Waka took your hand with a gentle firmness, raising it to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of it. “You look stunnin’ tonight, baby.”

He stepped around you, pulling your chair out from beneath the table. 

 “Thanks. Not too shabby, yourself,” You felt your face flush. With a timid smile, you replied sarcastically, “You’re all dressed up tonight. What’s the occasion?”

“Nothin’. Just a date with the most beautiful woman in the world,” he answered. “Sit down. I just ordered us an appetizer.”

What a schmoozer, You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by his comment. He always knew what to say to get you going.

You took a seat, smoothing your hands over your dress, setting your clutch on the table.

Wakasa walked around the table to sit in front of you. You noticed his glass of water was half full. He must have been waiting for me.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” You hummed quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear and reaching for the menu. “My makeup took a lot longer than I thought it would.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Love,” He dismissed your concerns with a wave of his hand. His eyes drank you in almost hungrily. “You look good.”

Love. You felt your cheeks warm at the nickname. It took every ounce of restraint you had to not hop the table and kiss him right then and there.

You returned your gaze to the menu in your hands. The pages were lined with fancy sounding steaks and obnoxiously high prices. You winced, though your gaze trailed over the options with a sense of yearning. Everything here looks so good.

“D’you like red wine?” He asked you suddenly. He was watching you with an earnest expression on his face, chin perched on his palm. 

With a quiet hum, you nodded. “It’s a rare treat for me. Why?”

“I ordered the house wine. I heard it’s good,” He mused quietly. His eyes lingered on your neck, where you knew a dainty gold necklace was fastened. 

And he smiled at you. 

“Takeomi never took me out to dinner,” You blurted out nervously.

Great. Let’s talk about my ex on the first date.

Wakasa didn’t seem to mind it, though you took note of the way his lip twitched when you said his name. 

“His loss,” Was all he said, licking his lips. He looked like he was going to say something else, like there was another sassy remark on the tip of his tongue, but he was interrupted by the sound of double doors opening. He glanced behind you.

When you turned around, you saw another pretty, young waitress holding a bottle of wine and a vase of… flowers. There were two more men behind her, holding two more — albeit much larger — floral arrangements.

You knitted your brows with a quiet interest. The vase she set down was a burst of color amidst the intimate ambiance. It looked like a spring arrangement — colorful lilies, dahlias, and all sorts of other flowers you didn’t know the name of.

“How pretty,” you mused quietly, raking your eyes over the vase the restaurant had so generously provided. The two larger vases were placed on either side of the table — making it so that you and Waka were framed by the pretty petals like something out of a movie.

How romantic.

The waitress popped the cork off of the wine bottle. She grabbed your empty wine glass by the stem — then, with practiced ease, she poured your wine. 

“Thank you,” You nodded at the girl. You took the glass up in your hand, swishing the crimson liquid around until it sloshed around the bottom. “For everything— the flowers are nice, too.”

“I knew you would like them,” Wakasa remarked. Sitting back in his seat, he allowed the woman to pour him a glass.

She set the bottle on the table. Then, with a curt bow, she quietly excused herself.

You raised a brow at him. “You picked these?”

Wakasa mirrored your action from earlier, giving the deep-colored liquid a few swishes. “‘Course, princess,” He answered. “They’re yours.”

With wide eyes, you glanced over at one of the bigger vases. “All of this is… for me?” You asked.

“All for you, baby,” He replied.

You looked back at him with even wider eyes. You feared that if he made one more outlandish statement, they would pop right out of their sockets. “They look so expensive, Waka, I— …I don’t even know how we’re gonna get these out of here!”

“I’ll have one of my guys bring them to your house,” Waka rolled the stem of his glass between his thumb and his index finger. His lavender hues flicked up to your painted red lips. “I was gonna have ‘em sent there in the first place but, y’know… would’a ruined the surprise.”

You spared one more glance at one of the large bouquets. It was huge — weeping stems and bright flowers spilling out over the edge and towering at least two feet tall.

“Waka, this is too much…” You licked your lips, looking back at him. You almost wished you hadn’t. Fuck, it should be illegal for blondes to look that good. “I can’t accept this— I can’t repay you for-“

“You’re not repaying me for anything, Mama,” He hummed. That devilish grin of his was gonna be the death of you. “I told you I could treat you better than that bum you were fuckin’ with before. I plan on makin’ good on that promise.”

“But—“

“Let me spoil you, princess,” He added, instantaneously shutting down any argument that had formed in the back of your mind. “Can’t treat you good unless you let me, yeah?”

You sat back with a pout, though it melted into a shy grin. You felt the blush creeping in at his words — again, it took a great deal of restraint to keep from kissing him right then and there. “M’kay… thank you, Waka.”

“Anythin’ for you, Mama,” He smiled back. He reached over the table with his spare hand, taking your fingers into his grasp reassuringly. 

“Now I don’t want you to worry your pretty little head about money again, okay?” He warned you rather sternly, though you could tell there was a grain of humor behind it. “You know that’s not an issue for me, and even if it was… that’s for me to worry ‘bout. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty with whatever I buy you.”

A horde of angry butterflies paraded through your stomach, your chest, leaving a trail of red blush over your face. You had to avert your gaze, pressing your thighs together beneath the table. 

“Okay…” You murmured timidly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Thank you, Waka.”

Woah… so crazy how you were dripping wet, all of a sudden.

He released your hand just as the waitress returned. The two of you fell back into a comfortable silence — you basked in the warmth in your cheeks, your neck, your whole body.

“Are you two ready to order?” She asked.

You had completely forgotten about the menu. Quickly, you flipped it open, scanning the page for something that looked interesting. 

“I think we’re ready,” Wakasa said. He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. With a warm smile, he asked you, “Whad’ya gonna have, my love?”

You felt the tips of your ears burn at the nickname. 

Fuck. You were going to combust.

“I’ll take the Sanda Beefsteak meal,” You told her. “Could I have that cooked medium well?” You asked.

The waitress nodded. Then, she turned to Wakasa with the same polite smile she had greeted you with. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same,” He rattled off. Gently, he pulled the menu from your grasp, stacking it over his and handing it off to the girl. “Thank you,” he said.

You were melting into your seat. There was something about a man who was nice to food service workers that was just….

“We’re on a date right now,” You blurted out rather awkwardly, as if you were still attempting to process it – nevermind the flowers and the dinner and… well, everything else. 

He turned to face you with an expression which could only be described as lovestruck, half lidded eyes settling over your painted lips before he answered, “We are.”

He reached for his glass again, this time holding it towards you. “Wanna make a toast?”

You reached for your own, rolling it between your pinched fingers with a pensive hum. You thought for a moment, then you giggled, “I can’t think of anything.”

Waka pouted playfully, “I’m right here.”

“Okay, okay,” You laughed. You held your glass up to the sky, translucent rim glimmering beneath the candlelight. “To the beginning of something beautiful… and… and the end of something terrible.”

He smiled, then he laughed – the melody made your heart skip a beat. “Movin’ a bit fast, ain’t we?” He asked. “Weren’t we friends, like, two days ago?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. What do I have to lose? “Says the one who likes to say “I love you” during sex.”

 “Who said it back?” he mused, holding his own serving of wine towards you. He leaned over the table, eyes darkening, “You loved all of me last night, ain’t you, pretty thing?”

“I can drink to that,” You giggled. 

The glasses clinked against one another and it was as if you had finally stepped into a new chapter – with him by your side. As long as you had that, you felt everything else would fall into place.

As long as you had him.

Dinner was a joyful blur. As the night unfolded, the two of you reveled in one other's company, savoring every moment. Laughter intertwined with the aroma of exquisite dishes. Time seemed to slip away as you enjoyed the many various culinary delights. It was perfect, him, the food… all of it.

Dessert had been brought out thirty minutes ago, on a cart adorned with an array of rich, sweet treats. At Waka’s request, the two of you had sampled just about everything. You indulged in the rare chance to taste such decadent flavors rather shamelessly.

You had eaten a few tarts, a piece of some chocolate cake… some other desserts, too, but you had far since lost track. 

You leaned back in your chair, shamelessly holding your stomach, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “I’ve never felt so full in my life,” You confessed. Though you knew you looked tired, you were genuine in your next words, “Thank you, Waka. I mean it.”

Wakasa, with his shin perched on his hand, gazed at her lovingly. His pretty face was flushed with the faintest hue of red, as much of a testament to your wine tasting experience as the rosy stain on his lips was. After three or four glasses (maybe more), his eyes were droopy, half lidded, and shamelessly gazing into yours. He looked like he, too, had put in a great amount of effort to keep his hands off of you all night.

This very well may have been the longest the two of you had ever gone alone together in a room without kissing one another.

“‘Course, baby,” He said. His voice seemed to have dropped a pitch during the evening, suddenly rather heavy with desire. “I’m glad you enjoyed.”

Ignoring the warmth of your own reckless drinking habit, you pointed out the nearly untouched brown cake on his plate. “You barely touched your dessert.”

“‘M stuffed, baby,” Waka sighed, leaning back. “Plus, I gotta cut down on the sweets. I’m putin’ on weight.”

You knitted your brows, pouting at his admission of insecurity. You didn’t doubt that there was a lot of maintenance involved in achieving a body like his. Still, you didn’t like the thought of him feeling bad about himself. 

“Why? You look perfect!” You tried to reassure him. The moment he opened his mouth to retort, you held up a finger, effectively silencing him. Him, the most dangerous man in Tokyo, if not all of Japan. “And don’t start callin’ me a liar,” You added, waving your finger around. “I think I got a good view last night. Though I could always take another look, just to make sure.”

I just said that out loud. You froze immediately, face flushed at your own admission. The moment you saw his expression shift, you regretted your choice of words.

He peered up at you through his pretty blonde lashes. “Don’t start,” he cautioned, a playful smirk on his devilishly handsome face. 

Again, his effect on you was instantaneous. You felt yourself grow hot beneath the layers of pretty clothes and makeup you were wearing – hot to your core.

So, being the little shit that you were, you played into it. 

“Start what?” You pouted, feigning innocence. 

“Somethin’ you won’t finish,” He retorted. His eyes were dark with desire, gaze sharp.

I want him to fuck me right here, you thought. Not long after that, a brilliant idea crossed your mind.

Slowly, you kicked off your heel. You searched for the toe of his shoe, sliding your foot up his calf.  

“Who says I won’t finish it?” You teased, folding your hands together in front of your lips. Your foot brushed over his knee, his thigh.

He hummed in response. “Don’t– don’t play with me,” He stuttered – actually stuttered – when you put your foot over his crotch. Immediately, you felt him twitch beneath your fleeting touch. His eyes were on you, weighted with lust. “I’ll bend you over this table in front’a everybody.”

“That just won’t do,” You feigned surprise, widening your eyes. Your tone was condescending, exaggerating every syllable that left your lips. “Stop misbehaving. This is a classy establishment.”

He leaned over the table ever-so-slightly. “You gonna make me?”

The young waitress returned at the perfect time, holding a checkbook in hand. She set the sleek black book upon the table, bowing slightly as she did so. 

“Your card, sir,” She spoke politely. Then, she turned to you, doing the same respectful bow. “Thank you for dining with us tonight. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your evening.”

Without so much as another word, she was gone. 

You hadn’t stopped your ministrations once in her presence, hoping the tablecloth had done a good enough job at concealing the way you were rubbing him through his slacks. He was hot and hard underneath your sole.

It’s so easy to get him riled up, you noted with the faintest smirk upon your lips.

“Say,” He remarked, flipping the checkbook open and clicking the pen against the table. Without looking at you, he scribbled down a few numbers – the tip, you assumed, because it looked steep. When he was done, he took his black card and closed the book, returning his gaze to you. “How do you feel about dessert?”

Speaking in code now, are we?

“I think…” You put a little more weight onto your foot, dropping your voice to a murmur. “I think you should bring the car ‘round front,” You leaned in. You were all but whispering into his ear by that point. “And get us the hell out of here.”

He stifled a groan. “Should I?” He grinned.

“You should,” You nodded, licking your lips. When you felt you had gotten your point across, you let your foot touch the ground, slipping effortlessly back into your shoe. “I think I wanna take my dessert to-go.”

Wakasa, caught up in the spontaneity of the moment, stood up so quickly that his chair scraped unceremoniously against the floor. His enthusiasm was palpable. “We can beat the traffic if we leave now,” he suggested with a smile – one that you knew was a disguise for his lust-ridden expression. “Like, right now.”

He dusted his hands off on his coat, walking around the round table.

“Waka, what traffic? It’s 10 PM–” You began, but your witty retort was cut short as he pulled you up by your arm. 

He had all but dragged you out of the restaurant. 

Wakasa had to have been doing at least 30 over the speed limit the whole way home. As he maneuvered through the streets with an unusual speed for the hour, the cityscape blurred into streaks of light. The rumbling of the engine was loud, even more so from where you were seated between his legs. He had his slacks unzipped just enough for you to get your mouth around him. With one hand on the wheel, he gripped a fistful of your hair in the other. 

You went at it like you were made for it. Up and down, up and down, fitting him all the way in until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. 

You were sucking and slurping on him so lewdly that it caught you by surprise. 

"Mmm, baby," he whined, glancing down with a playful smirk. "Couldn't wait 'til we got home, hm?" Gently, he pulled your hair out of your face, tucking it neatly behind your ears. Then, immediately undoing his own work, he twisted your hair around his fist and fucked your mouth.

You made a noise in response, though it was broken up by the nasty, dirty sound you made every time you gagged on his dick. You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, through long, wispy lashes, leaving a trail of saliva running down his thighs, strings of spit trailing down his cock.

He gripped your hair a little tighter. “Mmh,” he groaned, “Shi-it.”

And you just sat back and let him use you. You knew it was wrong, you knew it was fucking filthy and deplorable. You didn’t care. You loved it.

With a shudder and a moan, he pushed your head down a little further. You gagged on it again, swallowing him down, tightening your throat around him like you were made to suck his dick. 

The car swerved to the right. You felt your stomach drop. One wrong move and we could crash.

His focus shifted rapidly between the road and the dangerous display of affection unfolding beneath the dim glow of the dashboard.

He pulled you up by the roots of your hair, and you took the cue to slurp on his leaky tip. You wrapped your hands around what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, stroking, swirling, slurping – you felt like his personal whore. 

The car shifted rather suddenly. You lurched to the side. Before you could remind him to keep his eyes on the road, he shoved your head down, forcing you to take him to the hilt – until your nose was pressed up against his navel, until you gagged so hard on him that your throat made a vile ‘gluck’ sound.

Only a moment later, the car began to slow down. You assumed the two of you were approaching a red light. What you hadn’t expected, however, was for the car to glide over the indentations that marked the beginning of the shoulder.

Then the car stopped.

You pulled off of him, furrowing your brows, licking your swollen lips. You struggled to catch your breath, gasping out, “Waka… Where… What happened?”

He said nothing but, instead, put the car in park. He put his chair back. Then, without so much as a kind warning, he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up into his lap.

Immediately, he searched for your lips – pressing his against yours in a passionate, intense dance of teeth and tongue. You felt exposed like this; out in the open with nothing but some tinted windows and a few dim street lights to conceal what the two of you were doing – but not entirely opposed to it. The thought of being caught like this thrilled you.

It was rushed, it was messy, it was hot – so hot. You felt yourself burning up beneath his touch. 

 He smacked your ass, grunting, “Backseat, baby.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. Quickly, you climbed over him, messily stumbling over the center console and sliding into the backseat. He zipped himself up, but only for a moment, quickly throwing the door open and sliding into the backseat with you.

"You look so good t’nite," His eyes dropped to your mouth, hungry and feral. "Can’t wait any longer." 

Then he pressed his lips to yours, and all of the air left your lungs. He slid his tongue against your lip, and you began to get lost in the kiss rather quickly, hands sliding up his shoulders, his neck, his chest. You straddled his waist, not even caring that the fabric of your skirt had ridden up to your waist, revealing your stark lack of underwear beneath your choice of attire. 

Not that you were planning on getting lucky, of course. You know… it just… happened to work out that way.

His hand had wrapped itself around your neck when the two of you disconnected – he was being uncharacteristically rough tonight, but you didn’t have any opposition to it. Waka pressed his forehead against yours, lips hovering inches away, breath fanning over your lips.

“You’re drippin’ on me, baby,” He panted. When you looked down, you noticed that you were, in fact, dripping – having left a wet spot on his white slacks. He laughed against your lips, slightly winded, “G’nna make me fuck you on the highway. You want that?”

Yes. You wanted him. Right now, right here in the back of his expensive car.

You nodded. 

“You got so wet from suckin’ me off,” He let out an airy chuckle, tired eyes peering right into the depths of your soul. Slowly, teasingly, he reached for your cunt. “No panties either, hmm? Think I’d slip right into ‘ya. Wanna try it?”

"Ngh…" You mewled. His hand around your throat was making you dizzy with desire. Still, licking your lips, you found the strength to nod.

"Dirty girl," he seethed. His thumb pressed deeper into your neck, mouth ghosting over yours. Unable to resist anymore, you rolled your hips down again… and again. He smirked against your lips, “You gonna take all of it?”

You were too shy to reply. Instead, you buried your nose in his neck, pressing hot kisses to his warm skin. The taste of his cologne lingered on your tongue. He released your neck, going for the back of your head next – taking a fistful of your hair again and pulling it taut.

You gasped, letting him pull your head back.

“I asked you a question, Mama,” He repeated himself. His tone was low, dangerous… threatening. “You gonna take it all f’me?”

“Mhm,” You whimpered, feeling him replace his large hand around your neck.

He pressed forward for another kiss, although this time there was something more passionate about it. His tongue swiftly entered your mouth, and with it came the lingering taste of chocolate cake. You welcomed it, bringing your hands up to the back of his head. His grip on your neck tightened as he tilted your head to get a better angle into your mouth. The restriction of your airway filled your mind with a blissful haze.

You wrapped your arms around him, bringing him closer, closer. His kisses were making you weak, dizzy with pleasure. Well, that and the fact that his grip on your trachea was unrelenting. When his fingers stopped digging into your skin, the air came rushing back to you. 

You gasped again, and then one more time as he lifted you off of his lap.

“That’s right,” He growled. He fiddled with the zipper of his pants, sliding them back down, past his hips. Thanks to you, he didn’t have any boxers to push aside – or any need for lubricant, for that matter.

You tried your best to feel shame at the prospect of being on the side of the literal highway where anyone could see you. (Tinted windows. Something you had forgotten about.) But there was little room for doubt when he positioned his tip at your entrance and then promptly slid into you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, fingernails digging into his pale shoulders.

"You got it, baby," He growled against your lips. This was wrong. Very wrong. But the moment his tip bumped your cervix, you threw your morals out the window.

You whined, moving your hips against his. He was right there, right where he needed to be, and the blissful slide of his dick against your wet walls made your vision go white at the edges.

"No panties under that dress – achin’ to be fucked right where everyone can see you. So filthy, hm?” He immediately picked up the pace, gripping your hips to lift and slam you down on his cock. The quiet groan of 'shit' that left his lips when your hips began to meet him halfway was anything but holy. "My dirty girl."

"I'm not--" Your sentence broke off into a long, drawn out moan as he slid back inside of you. "Fu-uck. Harder!”

"Harder, baby?" He teased before swiftly pulling out of you. He brought your skirt up higher around your waist. You felt exposed and -- quite frankly -- a little nervous. Just past the rearview window, you could see the cars flying by. Then you looked back at him, and you melted a bit.

He eyed you up almost animalistically. If you didn't know any better, you would say he looked like he wanted to fucking eat you up. 

He thrust his hips up sharply, snapping against your ass – pulling you down harshly in the same motion. He sheathed himself entirely in your warmth in a way that had you screaming out for him.

You cried out, feeling the table jolt with the force of his sudden thrust.

"Waka, baby!" You gasped out. Your nerves burned with the sudden sensation of him bottoming out. You struggled to accommodate his girth under such short notice, but, fuck, it felt good. 

He spared no time with picking up a fast pace, hips snapping forcefully against your ass. You had no time to adjust to him, no. Instead, apparently, Wakasa had made it his mission to fuck you senseless.

"I love you," he moaned. It was like music to your fucking ears. "Fuck, I love you."

With the slick of your arousal already dripping down your thighs, there was little need for any excess lubricant. His hand tangled itself in your hair. The other was looped firmly around your waist. 

"Be my girl," He purred, following your line of sight to the body-length mirror in the living room. You could just barely make out the devious expression sitting firmly on his usually emotionless features. He dropped down to grip your neck, pulling the upper half of your body up while keeping your lower half anchored to the table. "Please– be my girl, baby."

Then, if it were even possible, his thrusts became more forceful. The car jumped in tandem. 

He bottomed out inside of you once more. At this angle, he found your sweet spot with every single thrust. His brutal speed was unrelenting. Eyes unfocused, your nails scratched at his shoulders, at his leather interior, searching desperately for something to grab onto while he piledrove you into oblivion.

“Say yes," he whimpered weakly. He attacked the side of your neck, teeth and lips tugging harshly on the sensitive skin. You clenched around him. Your reaction caused him to moan loudly against your neck. “Please, fuck, be my girl.”

"Yes!" you managed to get out. “I’m your girl –”

You honestly felt bad for whoever was driving by with their windows down at this point, because your moans had become a lot more similar to screams in lieu of recent events (recent events, of course, being Wakasa’s goal of ruining your chances of walking tomorrow).

He let out a pleased groan at your willingness to let him abuse the everloving shit out of your pussy. "My girl," he hummed. "My girl, only mine– fuck– I love you."

You were his girl. You had always been his girl, right from the start.

His hips stuttered. "Say it back," he growled. 

You couldn't take it anymore. The pleasure was far too much to bear. It was making your mind go blank. 

You bit back a moan, feeling your legs begin to tremble again with the weight of your impending release. You were close, too close to resist him. You raked your eyes up his shirtless form in the mirror, watching as his mouth parted to release a few shaky breaths. His legs shook against the back of your own. The muscles in his abdomen tensed up.

Guess I'm not the only one getting close to losing it.

"Yes! Yes!" You gasped out as he landed another smack on your thigh. "I’m your girl, fuck– yes!" His eyes met yours in a lustful daze. “Love you, Waka–”

His.

You had always been that, hadn't you? You'd simply been too blind to see it.

"Mine," He growled back in response. "No one else's."

You were getting closer now. The coil in your stomach was pulled as tight as it could go. "Mmh- yours! P-Please!"

You hadn’t cum this fast in… well, actually, maybe not. He seemed to have that effect on you.

"Cummin’" Waka shuddered. “Cummin’, baby, shit–”

The coil snapped, and your hips jolted rhythmically against him. You felt your walls clench around his dick, a sensation that made him lurch forward and reach his own orgasm.

"Fuck, baby, ‘m--" You cried out. This one hit you even harder than before, wave after wave of powerful pleasure shooting through you at the speed of light – back arching as he spilled into you.

He went for your lips again immediately after, kissing you softly while the two of you came down from your high. He kissed you breathlessly, passionately, like he would die if he stopped.

“You wanna come back to mine?” He asked. His forehead pressed against your own, his eyes glimmering with a slight hint of mischief. Above all else, though, they held promises of safety.“I can make us some dinner. I don’t want you walking home high at night, not in this neighborhood.”

“What a gentleman,” you mused. Sarcastically, of course, but not really.

“I can be whatever you want me to be tonight, dollface.” Wakasa grinned ear to ear, pressing another kiss to your sore lips. “Just say the word.”

You pulled away from him with a breathless laugh. “We did it in your backseat the first time we hooked up, too, didn’t we?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, melting back into the seat. 

His cum was still warm inside of you, spilling down his dick, your thighs, his lap. You kissed him again. “And now you’re my boyfriend.”

He laughed quietly, “Bad timing?”

“A bit,” You smiled. You pulled back, drinking in the sight of him like this – blond hair wild and messy, lips swollen and parted, face dusted with a rosy hue. His lilac irises were locked onto yours like you had just fallen out of the sky. Like he worshiped you.

Then you squealed, grinning ear to ear, “We’re boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend makes it sound like we’re highschool sweethearts, or somethin’,” He chuckled. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand. Pressing a chaste kiss to the apple of your neck, he added, “You can tell all your friends that the White Leopard’s y’er man.”

“You’re my man,” You repeated. The grin on your face was bright enough to power an entire city.

He replied, “You’re my girl, yeah? Everyone’s g’nna know you’re Waka’s girl.”

You kissed his forehead. “Waka’s girl,” You hummed, snuggling into his chest. “That’s got a nice ring to it.”

a/n: aaaand we have a (surprisingly) happy ending!!! omg. it has been too long. party monster has been in the works for a little under a year now. I hope u dont mind the hiatus, I was putting off workin on this chapter because I didnt want this story to end lol.... it's been such a long road. im so grateful for every single one of u. but id like to give a special shout out to @xiedoll ... they were my first ever fan! ill never forget when u commented on my ao3, ur comments are what really inspired me to adapt this one shot into a fullfic! there are so many of you id also love to thank. @sin-and-punishment, you have been such an avid supporter! omg! so many names, I can't possibly tag them all. I actually do have a sequel plotted out for party monster, one which I may or may not publish. let me know!!! I'm gonna upload an epilogue after this, then I'm done with (book one of) party monster. thank you all for staying tuned in for my rare updates, and for being so active in the comment section. my heart goes out to each n every one of you. as always, leave your comments and thoughts below!!! let me know what you thought about the ending (for this book ;)) with love, Leo!!!

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own tr or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaaabean , @galactict3a , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @wakashawty , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @sin-and-punishment , @mztoman , @xiedoll , @bontensbabygirl , @strawberrychrome , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @yunaime9 , @redlittlequeen , @leviane , @mrai12 , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @chocoyanchan , @cookiezncream1 , @cawwn , @lik0 , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @peachesncats , @armani78 , @iluvizana, @cookiesandcreammy , @mikeys-bike-slut, @megumissunshine, @kzuyji , @menrami, @stardewsx , @pjmo-ri-ka-wa , @shuujin @kira-rrh , @ashllleyyy , @shinichiros-whore , @blackfire2013 , @cottoncandybubblebath , @releasethedraken , @captainmycaptainn

wanna join the taglist?| party monster! chapter index

What Do I Do?

Summary: Caitlyn called you…but you weren’t supposed to hear that.

Warnings: toxic situation relationship, alludes to smut (minors fuck off or you will get blocked), don’t know if there’s others. Modern!au, we don’t do that crybaby shit over here

Notes: I wrote this all in one sitting while drinking so if there’s any mistakes or anything, don’t talk about it

WC: 1.0k

You were at home, lounging on the couch with your favorite show playing on the TV. It was a Sunday evening, the sun was just about to set and you had no classes for the day and decided to spend the rare day by yourself.

Realistically, you would rather have one other person with you but she hadn’t responded to you at all since early morning.

Unfortunately, that was pretty common for Caitlyn; she had her phone on either DND or was just busy altogether. It did get on your nerves a lot of the time but Caitlyn always took your mind off of it whenever you two were together; she always gave you her full attention and you never doubted anything when you were with her.

The only thing that irked you about the taller girl was her lack of wanting to further the relationship. Whenever you tried to broach the topic of finally becoming exclusive after almost seven months, Caitlyn brushed you off or completely changed the conversation. Most times it did lead to arguments that led the both of you staying silent for almost a week until she ended up coming back like nothing happened.

You’ll have to force her to have that conversation one day so the weird grey area you were in would finally clear up.

It was only a few minutes later when your phone rang.

Cait 💜

You couldn’t help but smile at the contact name and eagerly answered.

”Hey, Cait. I was just thinking about you—what’s up?”

She didn’t respond.

“Caitlyn? Hello?”

There was a slight rustling sound on the other end. You stayed quiet incase you could hear anything.

After a few seconds of silence, you finally heard a soft voice.

“Fuck…”

You paused, making sure you heard correctly. If you were right, then Caitlyn was enjoying her own solitude in a different way and wanted to tease you into coming over.

But…something seemed off.

You continued to listen, seeing if anything else could be heard. And soon enough, something else came through.

At first, it was Caitlyn. “Oh, f-fuck. Don’t stop.”

Then the next noise made your blood run cold.

“Yeah, feels good doesn't it, cupcake? You gonna cum for me?”

“No fucking way,” you muttered to yourself. The light blanket that was laying on top of you was suddenly thrown off of you as you raced for the closest pair of shoes you could find.

She wouldn’t—Caitlyn wouldn’t do that to you. That wasn’t like her, was it? You weren’t sure if you believed those words, as much as you wanted to. But on the whole drive there, that was the only thing going through your mind.

You soon found yourself standing outside of her door, the spare key that was hidden inside of her outside plant in hand as you hesitated. Your heart was thudding to the point where you were sure it could be heard from other people. You weren’t sure what was waiting for you on the other side of the door but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

The door carefully swung open; the living room was clear but there was noise that could be heard from down the hall, towards Caitlyn’s room. Your steps were quiet as you walked closer to the cracked open door.

There was a girl with pink hair laying halfway on top of Caitlyn, who was eagerly pulling her closer, giving her almost desperate kisses. Caitlyn, however, seemed to be enjoying it, thanks to the hefty moans that were coming from her. It was the sounds of the door opening further that gained their attention.

Immediately Caitlyn pushed the other girl off of her, resulting in her tumbling to the floor. A head full of pink jumped up while Caitlyn could only look at you with wide eyes.

“Hi?” The girl said, confusion heavy in her voice. “Are you Caitlyn’s roommate? Sorry, we were being too loud?”

She didn’t seem bothered in the slightest that the only thing that was covered of her was the lower half of her body by a pair of boxers. Yet still, your main focus was Caitlyn, whose eyes were quickly flickering between the both of you.

”Roommate, Caitlyn?” You hissed. “Are you serious?”

”So, no to the roommate then?”

”We’re together! So, no. I’m not her roommate.”

She could only blink at you. “I’m…sorry? What?”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Was the only thing Caitlyn could say at the moment.

You waved your phone at her, showing the call log you received from her not even an hour ago.

”I wasted seven months on you, Caitlyn.” Your voice was tighter, either from anger or sorrow, you couldn’t tell which one. “Almost an entire year, you were—what, with other people?!”

”Person, one, her,” Caitlyn corrected, reaching for her silk robe that wasn’t far from her. “I’m allowed to see other people seeing how we’re not together.”

”Exclusive or not, loyalty just means shit to you, right?”

You could see Caitlyn roll her eyes. “I don’t owe you loyalty. You’re being overly dramatic on technicalities.”

“Technicalities? What—“

“Wait, wait. You have a girlfriend?” You then remembered the third party that was still in the room; she seemed to have snapped out of the stupor she was in. “What the fuck, Cait—you said you were single!”

”Because I am!” She yelled. Cait then turned to you. “We are not together. I don’t know how many times I have to keep telling you this. We’re nothing!”

You sucked in a harsh breath, refusing to tell the tears that were collecting fall. “You’re right, Caitlyn. We’re not together. We are nothing, and we will continue to be that. Go fuck yourself.”

Caitlyn looked surprised at your words. Out of anything, that was the last thing she suspected from you. As you moved to leave her apartment, you could hear her trying to grab your attention once more before Vi intercepted to yell out her own words.

The strong facade lasted until you got into your car. You just settled down into your seat when the tears finally started falling.

this is pretty much what happened. right.

Hello! Apologies. I was unsure how to contact you! But for your transgender reader headcanons, what does the reader identify as? Male? Female?

male pls, sorry 4 no specify andd, can you do it angst to fluff? srry, it's my first time doing this 😫😫

Oracle!Reader Part 1

Masterlist - Part 2

A light zap of electricity made your cheek tingle, urging you awake. Sleepily, you opened your eyes and were greeted with a rundown room with no furniture. The strange sight woke you up immediately and you sat up.

What the hell? This isn't your home, fuck, this doesn't even look like somewhere in your city!

As you surveyed the surroundings with more urgency, thoughts of the day before came to mind.

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

You were only supposed to drop off the money from the scams to your boss. Your forte wasn't fighting yet when you entered the rundown building, there was tension in the air.

Your boss glowered at the woman across the room. Before you could even ask one of your coworkers what's happening, guns were drawn. In less than 5 seconds the building became a mess of fighting, gun shots, and noise.

Trained instincts of running kicked in and you were already slipping past brawls trying to get to the nearest exit. The money was already dropped off, your boss couldn't hold shit against you.

Just as you got close to the window, a lanky man shoved you. You only stumbled back and raised your fists. You didn't like to fight but after years of living less than legal, you've learned how to fight long enough to escape.

In 10 minutes you were already walking down the sidewalk with bloody knuckles and a bruised foot. The other guy must be worse since you threw him into the window before escaping.

It's just your luck that a police car pulls up beside you. Stopping, you flash a smile to the officer as he rolls down the window.

"Sorry to bother you so late but I noticed that you're a little hurt. Do you need me to bring you to a hospital?"

What he's really asking is what got you hurt, but you keep your cool and answer with cheeriness.

"It's really nothing. I was just at the bar down the street with a friend when some people started getting rowdy. They got kicked out before anyone could really get hurt but I still got a little banged up."

You point to the bar that you passed by that's in full swing. The officer eyes you for a moment before asking a follow-up question.

"And what about your friend? Where are they, are they okay?"

Your tone drops a little as you reply. "Their wonderful partner picked them up so I left. I mean it's not like I have any lover to pick me up. What can a poor single person like me do?"

The officer instantly becomes bored and says a quick goodbye before driving off. You roll your eyes at the predictable action and continue walking home. Lying has become a natural habit for you and you've become damn good at it.

You finally get home to your shitty studio apartment in the seedy part of the city. Locking the door, you trudge to your computer as you ignore the screams from other apartments. You boot it up and start eating the cheap fast food you picked up.

First you check on the scam ads you posted to see which poor sucker fell for it. You forward the card information to another coworker and consider yourself done with work for the day.

Were you a bad person for being a scam artist? Yeah. Did you wish that you could have a normal job that doesn't involve hurting people? Hell yeah. Have you ever been able to? Nope.

You click the little Paimon app to run Genshin to distract yourself from those meaningless thoughts. You've been stuck in those loops long enough to know it's useless to dwell on them.

The mindless commissions are just what you need to relax. You smile at the sight of Bennett's idle before farming for the most annoying materials; Handguards.

You finish combing through most of the Inazuma islands before teleporting to Seirai Island. The statue of the seven heals your party from any damage that occurred.

Leaning back in your chair, you stretched your arms, sighing as the tension is released from your body. Deciding to turn in for the night, you exit out of Genshin.

Well, you tried at least.

No matter how many times you clicked, it just wouldn't exit. Brushing it off as a bug, you just shut down the device.

Instead of shutting down, the screen showed the doors to Celestia. With no prompt, the doors opened and the white flash shined into your eyes.

Cringing at the harsh light you waited for it to stop.

It didn't.

It got brighter and brighter before it completely enveloped you.

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

Feeling more awake after remembering, you look around the house. Other than the creaky bed you were on, nothing else was in the house. You stand up and nearly trip over a bag at your feet.

Opening it, you find nothing but you decide to take it just in case. That's when you notice that your knuckles are completely healed. No blood, bandages or pain.

You check your body and see that although scars have remained, all your minor cuts and bruises have healed without a trace. Feeling creeped out you try to leave the house. The nearly broken door takes a good amount of strength to push open but you do and stumble out.

The sight of purple thundering skies, floating rocks, and a statue of the seven shocks you. You stumble on the squeaky plants and hard cobblestone as you get closer to the edge.

White trees with purple leaves, blue grass and Naku Weed surround the ground. It's the same area where you tried to log off. There was no way you were in Genshin Impact; Shit like this only happens in fiction.

Hallucination, death, dream, or pulled into a fictional world. Your mind whirls those four possibilities. You stomp on what should have been your bruised foot. It's painful, but not as much as a bruised foot.

With death and dream off the list you walk to the small tree with purple leaves. An Otogi tree, your mind helpfully supplies. You press a hand against the bark and feel the leaves carefully. The sensation is too real and you're too steady to be hallucinating.

You must really be in Tevyat. You were never attached to Earth but being suddenly thrust here is still a bit jarring. You look at the statue of the seven and contemplate your next decision.

From what you remember, anyone who isn't from Teyvat should be allowed to take elemental power from the statue. Biting your lip you approach the statue and place a hand on the gold accessories.

You marvel at how the statue glows at your presence but when you look at your hands, you feel no difference. It seems you wouldn't be a main character in this world either.

Shrugging it off, the excitement of actually being in Teyvat started to well up inside you. You walk down the desecrated dirt and cobblestone path as you admire Seirai Island.

While walking you freeze at the sight of two Fatui soldiers at a camp. You could fight people and escape, but Fatui soldiers? Fuck no. You didn't plan to die this fast.

You sneak along the houses to your left all while trying to remember Seirai's layout. If you wanted to survive in this world, you would need to get to civilization. You needed a boat cause there was no way in hell you were swimming in water that could be struck with lightning at any moment.

You follow the left path that seems to lead to the shore. Fuck, a mirror maiden is walking the same path right towards your direction. With some fast thinking and only a small dose of panic, you scale the rocks on your right.

They were thankfully small enough that your minor skills could be utilized well enough. Breathing heavily, you lay down on the soft blue grass. You close your eyes and open them swiftly at something tingly but smooth on your nose.

It's an electro Crystalfly. Purple and beautiful. You lay there mesmerized before it flies off gently. You stand up in a daze and struggle not to blindly follow it.

You walk along the cliff's edge while being careful not to fall. You can't risk going onto the grass in fear of a spector chasing you. Yet another thing that can end your new life.

Once far away enough from the mirror maiden, you slowly climb down and feel relieved at not breaking a bone. The path splits into two and you contemplate which one would lead to the Waverider.

Logically you know the chance of the waverider working for you was small, but the chance of you finding an intact boat was even smaller. Your train of thought is broken by the sounds of machines whirring from the right path.

You curse yourself and start sprinting down the left path to get away. Forgetting the existence of Ruin Sentinels almost cost you your life, but due to your panic, you almost sprinted straight into a different Ruin Sentinel.

Skidding to a stop, you hastily walk around it while sweating bullets. Thankfully it didn't notice you and you praise your good luck. You walk more alert to the waverider but stop at the teleport waypoint.

Out of simple curiosity, you touch the teleport structure. It glows similar to how it did in the game. But instead of red turning blue, the blue turned gold.

A smile forms on your face as your mind races with the possibilities that this could mean. Excitedly, you run to the waverider and touch it. Its blue turns gold and a boat is summoned onto the water.

It's not the same boat as the travelers, in fact you would even say it's better. Climbing into your boat you marvel at how much space it has. There is a small screen in the middle with a handprint.

There is no steering wheel or any other controls. You put your hand on it and say the first island that comes to mind. "Take me to Kannazuka Island."

The boat begins to move and you sit down on the couch. The whole boat feels luxurious to the point where you feel out of place; as if you're the sole piece of dirt on it.

But you don't have to be trash anymore. This world is kinder to people that couldn't finish school or can't stay in one spot. You wanted to try a normal job, maybe set up a stall or shop. Work as a normal, legal worker, or even become an adventurer. If reckless Pallas could do it, surely you could.

No more lying, no more crime.

The boat stops and you get off as you try to remember which part of the island you stopped at. There's a waverider and a teleport waypoint close together. That's on the right side of the Tatarasuna also known as the place where Kunikuzushi died and became Scaramouche.

After tapping both the waverider and teleport waypoint, you walk closer to the main part of the island. You remember farming this place for the handguards which explains why there is no Nobushi.

After passing the broken down ship part, you spot a tree with lavender melon. Excitedly and with hunger you get close and pick the lowest hanging fruit.

It's juicy and unlike any fruit you've eaten before. Which isn't a lot since fruit is expansive. You stroll down the shore as you finish the fruit.

You recognize the area on the left as a place where a quest had a fight. Walking on it you smile at seeing it in person. It's really amazing how you're actually here. And holy shit is that Ei?

The archway made of rock that leads into Tatarasune has Ei standing right there. You freeze and your breathing slows down as you try not to be noticed.

Ei was a complex character meaning that she will cause a lot of trouble for the peaceful and lawful existence you planned to live here.

As you try to walk away casually you hear her mutter something interesting.

"I could have sworn I felt their presence somewhere here."

Ei locks eyes with you making you freeze. You should greet her with her long ass title but there was no way you remembered that. Instead you give a small bow and speak politely.

"Please forgive my intrusion. I hope I haven't-"

"How dare you."

"I'm sorry wha-"

"Who are you? Which nation are you from? How dare you show such disrespect toward Their Holiness?!"

Her glare is firm and her voice grows louder. Gaping at the sudden hostility, you take a step back when she starts to pull out her Musou-no-something.

Ei's words are barely registered in your brain as you scramble for a way to escape.

"Someone with the same face as the creator is an anomaly. No one has ever been born with their face yet you, a mere human mortal, has it. I shall sacrifice you to them for impersonating the creator's image."

It's like her one track mind as a soldier has taken over Ei again. You yell the first thing that comes to mind that can help you escape while pointing behind her.

"OH MY GOD, IS THAT MAKOTO YOUR TWIN SISTER?!"

Ei freezes and immediately whips her head to look behind her. You don't hesitate to book it back to the boat.

'Just keep running, just keep running.' You sing frantically to yourself as you hear Ei chase after you. You yelp in pain when lightning starts striking your heels with every step.

She's toying with you, you realize. She wants to know how you could possibly know about her sister. She won't kill you yet but you know she won't hesitate to harm you severely.

The boat comes into view and you jump into it. The water that you splashed in, in your hurry makes your feet hurt more.

"Do you think that boat can protect you from me?"

You sit on the floor and try to think up a solution but the pain coursing through your body is hindering you. But you already know that you can't drive the boat or else she'll destroy it.

"Tell me how you know her name. How do you know her connection to me? How much more do you know about us?"

None of your regular tactics can work on her, not without risking death. You look at your lap for some kind of solution and notice your hands glowing. A small plan begins to form and instead you answer her with a distraction.

"Do you truly believe that I'm the only person alive that knows about her?"

Ei goes silent and you take advantage of the time to try to figure out what's happening with your hands. As much as you hope you gained elemental powers, you doubt that it can actually help you when an archon is trying to harm you.

You feel like spiderman as you make various hand gestures with your hands trying to figure out what the deal is with the glowing. It's the simple gesture of putting your hands together and pulling them apart that makes the glowing leave your hands and form a small screen.

"Did Celestia send you down here? Did you have a mission from them to use the Creator's form to dig up information?"

As the screen glows white and shows the Genshin Impact logo, your breath hitches. Your only hope is to let Ei draw her own conclusions from your answers as you hope your new power can help you.

"Celestia, huh? If Celestia themself took on the form of the Creator for their plans, do you think they would succeed?"

Thunder strikes louder after you say that. The logo leaves and shows the traveler on the beach in Mondstadt. You don't think about the weirdness of that before teleporting Lumine to where you are at.

"What are you implying-"

Ei's words are cut off as the sound of teleporting rings through your ears unlike the game audio has ever done before. On the screen the traveler stands next to a gold teleport waypoint with Ei nowhere to be seen. You smile at the implication.

You look out the boat and don't see Lumine there. You look back at the screen only to find it gone. You make the gesture and the screen reappears. It's only when you look away from the teleport waypoint that the screen finally loads.

Lumine is still standing next to the gold teleport waypoint. After teleporting her back to the beach you close the screen. With the Ei threat somewhat subdued, you feel safe enough to collapse on the couch.

Lazily you tell the ship to sail to Narukami Island, Ei would still come after you. Anywhere is better than your present location. An idea forms in your mind and you clarify. "Bring me to Amakane Island."

Your mind processes the information of a Creator, your resemblance, the screen, and new threats. The first step is clear as day. The little shop on Amakane Island that sells masks is your first stop.

Hello anybody that reads this. I have started another fic series. Again. There is a large chance that I'll get burnt out and not finish it. But I hope you enjoyed this. The next chapter should have what I really wanted to talk about which is Oracle!Reader.

Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl [Edit: This chapter has been updated by my dear editor on 8/19/23]

somewhere out there, heimerdinger just dropped the biggest, most justified ‘i told you so’

× even the gods bleed

× info [ sagau + imposter au + focalors + neuvillette ] × warnings [ spoilers for neuvillette + vaguely mentioned blood & injury + very minor angst ] × word count [ 2.3k ]

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

THIS MEANS WAR II

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 4.8k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: I did not expect the amount of love the first chapter got in such a short amount of time, thank you to everyone who took the time to read, reblog and like the story! warnings: sexual innuendos, milo, tooth rotting fluff

GOTHAM UNIVERSITY 

You definitely regretted drinking the moment you dragged yourself into the university the next morning. Every step toward the lecture hall felt like an uphill battle against the thumping in your skull and the dull ache behind your eyes—a painful souvenir from the night before with Milo and Anthony.

But the headache wasn’t the only thing off.

As you strolled through the halls, something felt… strange. Eyes followed you. Smiles lingered longer than usual—both from staff and students alike. A few even nodded in greeting, like you were a celebrity instead of a perpetually tired lecturer with a coffee addiction and zero patience for idiocy before 10 a.m.

“Y/N!” a voice called.

You turned to see one of the biology professors leaning against the doorframe of his lecture hall, his eyes scanning you with a little too much interest. “Can I just say—you look good today.”

You blinked, confused. “Uh. Thank you?” you replied, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. You gave a stiff nod and turned away, hurrying to your own classroom. What the hell was that about?

You hadn’t even dressed up. Just your usual—black slacks, a long-sleeved blouse tucked in neatly, sensible shoes. Your hair was pulled back into a taut bun, and despite your best efforts with concealer, the dark circles under your eyes were still winning the war. You looked worse than usual, if anything. Hungover. Sleep-deprived. Mildly irritated at the world.

And yet…

Your students were acting odd too. Whispering. Staring. One of them winked as he passed by your desk. You blinked at him, uncertain whether you were still drunk or hallucinating from lack of sleep.

The questions today were unusually… stupid. Even for a Thursday.

And then, at the end of class, one of your students—one who had never said more than five words to you before—lingered near your desk.

“Listen,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just gotta say, I am totally down… if you are, Doctor.”

You stared blankly. “Down? Are you catching something?”

His cheeks flushed red. “No—I meant, um—uh, if you’re looking to, like, go on a date—uh, never mind!” He turned on his heel and all but ran from the room, babbling something incoherent.

But you heard it. Just one word.

Dating site.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, heart skipping a beat as you snatched up your phone and hurried into the hallway, dialing Milo’s number with shaky fingers.

He answered on the third ring, voice groggy. “Hello?”

“What the fuck did you do, Milo?” you hissed into the phone.

There was a pause, then an easy drawl. “Well hello to you too.”

“Milo!”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m doing the Lord’s work. That pussy is growing cobwebs down there and you know it.”

Your jaw dropped. “Please—please do not tell me you did what I think you did.”

“Alright,” Milo said breezily. “I won’t tell you.”

Then the line went dead.

You let out a strangled sound of protest, halfway between a scream and a groan. Before you could redial, your phone vibrated. A message.

One link.

You clicked it—and froze.

“Oh my god.”

There it was. Your face. Your full name. And a profile on some godforsaken dating app with a bio you definitely hadn’t written.

Name: Y/N

Age: Mid-twenties

Occupation: Lecturer

Orientation: Bi-curious

About Me: Former gymnast. Skilled in oral communication. Open-minded, flexible, and always up for a challenge.

Looking for: Something serious… or seriously fun ;)

“Oh my god.” You felt your soul leave your body.

You called Milo again, barely waiting for him to pick up before snapping, “What the hell is wrong with you?! Bi-curious? Gymnastics? Skilled in oral communication?!”

“What?” he replied, completely unfazed. “I didn’t lie. You were a gymnast. And your current job is lecturer. You do communicate. Orally. Often.”

“Bi-curious?” you exclaimed, staring at the profile in horror. “I'm not sure that's even an official orientation!”

“It means you’re flexible, babe,” Milo said, absolutely unbothered. “And hey—you never know, it might be a woman who saves that pussy.”

You gaped at your phone. “Milo—”

“Then we can be one of those powerfully gay couples,” he went on dreamily, “with their iconic gay best friend. Four of us. Taking over brunch. Matching vacation fits. It’s giving legacy.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “This isn’t a Hallmark Pride Month special.”

“Not yet. But give it time.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you growled. “I’m going to end you, slowly.”

“How about thank you?”

You dragged a hand down your face. “You just made everyone I work with—and every guy in my lecture hall—think I’m down to be their naughty professor fantasy!”

“Okay, first of all,” he said, “you teach university, not high school. They’re all consenting adults. Secondly, that’s just good branding. It means you’re open to role play.”

You inhaled slowly. “I’m not sleeping with one of my students.”you snapped. “That’s not just unethical—it’s gross! Have you ever read a university policy?”

“yes, yes, heard it all before, I don’t need to read policy.” he sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m just trying to help you find your future husband—or at the very least, get laid. You’ve been walking around like a haunted Victorian widow.”

“I don’t think my future husband is going to take me seriously when you’ve basically made me sound like a bisexual stripper with a PhD,” you groaned, scrubbing a hand down your face. Your eyes dropped to the profile again—specifically to the picture of you clinging to a pole at Milo and Anthony’s joint bachelor party. You were laughing, clearly drunk, mid-spin.

He had made that the cover photo.

“Milo, I swear to God—”

But then you absently tapped the notifications.

New matches: 7

You scrolled… paused.

And there it was.

A face that made your breath catch.

Messy black hair. Stupidly handsome. Jaw carved by angels—or the devil, you weren’t sure. Those bright, glacier-blue eyes that had no business looking so damn good in a dating profile.

Your mouth went dry.

“Well,” you muttered faintly, “speaking of Dicks…”

“Ooh, I know that tone,” Milo crooned through the phone. “Girl, if you don’t swipe right on him—”

You bit your lip, torn between common sense and sheer thirst. “I don’t know…”

“Don’t what? That man looks like he bench-presses women for sport.” Milo stated, clearly having pulled up your profile from wherever he was lounging. “If you don’t swipe, I will do it for you. Right the fuck now. Don’t forget—I have admin privileges.”

You hesitated. Your thumb hovered.

Your eyes flicked to his profile again.

Dick Grayson.

He really was unfairly attractive. Possibly the hottest man you’d ever seen.

“…Fine!” you huffed. “I’ll go on one date. One. Only because this man looks like he could make me forget my own name.”

“That’s my girl!” Milo whooped like a proud pageant mom. “Thank me later—preferably while holding one of his babies.”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Oh, and don’t forget—lingerie. And swallow, don’t—”

You hung up at that part, shaking your head—but you were grinning.

God help you.

DICK'S APARTMENT

Dick sighed, dragging a hand down his face. It had been almost ten hours since he and Jason made the discovery—and still, radio silence. No updates, no leads. Just a whole lot of waiting.

He’d given Jason the “don’t get too obsessed” speech, but the truth was, he was just as bad. Maybe worse. Their entire family had a toxic relationship with the word rest, especially when the Joker was involved. That clown had left more scars on them than anyone cared to admit.

Finally, unable to sit still, Dick pulled out his phone and hit call.

“Babs,” he said the moment she picked up, “any news on the case?”

Barbara sighed. “Nothing. Mancini was right about one thing—this guy who stole Joker’s formula? He’s a ghost. Even the Joker’s gone quiet. Bruce and Tim are still digging.”

“Great,” Dick muttered, jaw clenched.

“I know it sucks sitting around,” Barbara said gently. “But we still don’t have confirmation Mancini was telling the truth. You know that.”

“I know.” He rubbed at the tension building at the back of his neck.

There was a beat of silence before she asked, “Hey… when was the last time you actually went out?”

“I go out all the time,” he said defensively.

“Coming home to see your brothers doesn’t count. Neither does hanging out with the team. And don’t even try bringing up Wally.”

He huffed. “I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” she cut in, amused. “But seriously, Dick. When was the last time you did something for you? Had fun. Met someone.”

He exhaled slowly. “There’s no time for that. You know how this life works. It’s not exactly relationship-friendly.”

Barbara didn’t argue. It was the truth—and the reason they’d broken up in the first place. They might always be best friends, always care for each other, but the vigilante life was relentless. Demanding. Even with all their shared understanding, it hadn’t been enough to keep them together.

So Dick kept it casual. One night, rarely ever two. Just enough to feel human. Never enough to drag some poor unsuspecting person into his shit.

“But it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” Barbara said, voice soft but firm. “You don’t always have to be Nightwing. Or the responsible older brother. You’re allowed to just be Dick sometimes.”

He let out a low groan. “At this rate, I am going to end up like Bruce.”

“Exactly,” she sighed. “And that is not a compliment.”

“Take that back.” He barked a short laugh, though it lacked bite. “If I end up like Bruce, put me down.”

“Only if you do something about it.”

“I want to. I do. But I can’t.” His voice dipped lower, more tired than he meant it to sound. “There’s just… no time for that stuff.”

“Well, now you’ve got some,” Barbara said, and he didn’t need to see her face to hear the grin curling in her voice.

Dick froze. Suspicion creeping in. “…Babs. What did you do?”

“Well, with the others still working to verify Mancini’s story and both Gotham and Blüdhaven being surprisingly quiet for once,” Barbara said lightly, “you, my friend, are officially off-duty.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “And that means… what exactly?”

“It means,” she continued with that too sweet tone, “you’re free to go out.”

He frowned. “Go out?” He could sense there was more. “Barbara, what did you do?”

“Oh, nothing too scandalous,” she replied airily. “Just… made you a dating profile.”

“You what?!” he barked, half standing from his chair.

“A very tasteful one,” she added quickly, clearly anticipating his outrage. “No shirtless gym selfies, no cheesy pick-up lines. I even used that photo of you from the Wayne Foundation gala last year—black suit, hair slicked back, looking all suave and charming.”

“Barbara,” he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Relax! You look great. And I may or may not have… already swiped on someone for you.”

He rubbed at his temples, already feeling the headache forming. “Are you serious right now?”

“You said it yourself. There’s no time. So I’m helping speed along the process. Now you’ve got a reason to go out and be you. Besides, she’s very cute. And smart. You’ll like her.”

Dick groaned. “Babs, this is not—this isn’t—God.” He dropped his head into his hand. “You can’t just sign me up for this stuff.”

“I can and I did. You’re welcome.” 

“I’m beaming with gratitude,” Dick muttered dryly. “Look just cancel the stupid profile.”

“You can’t back out now,” she sing-songed. “It’s already confirmed. Six o’clock. At that bar you like—Brick & Ember.”

Dick let out a slow breath, already resigning himself to the inevitable. He wasn’t the type to ghost someone. Even if the date went south, he’d at least be polite. End things gently. No use in being a dick to some poor girl dragged into Barbara’s scheme.

“Well,” he muttered, “at least you picked a good place.”

“Actually,” Barbara said with a grin in her voice, “she suggested it.”

That made him pause. “…Oh.”

So she had good taste too.

“I haven’t even seen her profile.” He weakly argued.

“Well, maybe you should check your notifications.” Her tone dipped into that singsong territory that meant he had absolutely no escape.

Against his better judgment, Dick pulled his phone away and opened the app she’d clearly installed behind his back. There it was.

One new match.

He clicked it.

And then blinked.

Barbara smirked, already knowing. “Told you she’s cute.”

Dick stared at the profile, brows lifting slightly. She was cute. Striking, actually. Hair loose and open, a sharp jawline softened by a crooked smile in one picture, and in another—God, was she… dancing on a pole?

“What the hell is this photo?”

Barbara’s voice rang in his ear, smug and satisfied. “Told you. Thank me later.”

Before he could respond, the line clicked dead.

Dick sighed, but his eyes drifted back to your photo. His thumb hovered over your name. You were definitely his type. And for the first time in a long while, he actually curious to see how the night might go.

BRICK & EMBER

It was nearly six when Dick grabbed his jacket, heading for the door—only for his phone to buzz in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and sighed.

Jason.

He answered anyway. “What’s up, Little Wing?”

“Any updates?” Jason asked without preamble.

“None so far,” Dick replied, trying to keep his voice even. “I called Babs this morning. She promised to keep me posted.”

“How can you be so calm?” Jason snapped, frustration bleeding through the line. “The Joker is out there, and if what Mancini said is true, we cannot let him get his hands on that formula.”

Dick let out a slow breath. “I’m not as calm as you think, Jay. But until Bruce and Tim dig up something concrete, running around blind isn’t going to help.”

Jason wasn’t convinced. “We don’t have to sit on our asses. We could be out there now. Start shaking the tree. You know how this works. Someone always knows something—you just need to find the right branches to snap.”

“Give it one more day,” Dick said, his voice firm. “If Bruce and Tim don’t find anything by then, we’ll start digging too.”

The last thing he needed was Jason storming off on his own. Not with the Joker possibly in the wind. That wound was still raw—for Jason, for all of them. 

“Besides,” Dick added, “I can’t tonight.”

Jason paused. “Why not?”

“I have a date.”

There was a beat of silence.

“A date?” Jason said flatly. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Dick sighed, already regretting saying anything.

“There’s a chemical weapon on the loose, and the Clown Prince of Batshit is out there hunting God knows what—and you’re going out for tapas?”

“It’s not tapas—”

“You are the reason Bruce has high blood pressure,” Jason muttered darkly.

“First of all, that’s because of you and Damian,” Dick shot back. “And second—look, it’s one date. And if you want to point fingers, blame Barbara. She’s the one who signed me up for the damn dating site.”

Jason let out a short, incredulous snort. “Of course she did. That woman’s probably had a spreadsheet tracking your love life since college.”

“I wouldn’t be shocked if she wired me with a mic just to coach me through the date.”

Jason huffed—something between a laugh and a groan. “So who is it this time? Some socialite with a podcast? A yoga instructor with three divorces?”

Dick grinned. “Actually? She’s a doctor.”

Jason paused. “…Huh. You’re actually going out with someone smart and normal?”

“She teaches at Gotham U.”

“Damn. That’s hot.”

Dick chuckled. “See? You do support me.”

“I didn’t say I supported you,” Jason snapped. “I said she’s hot. Big difference.”

“Mhm,” Dick hummed, smug.

There was a pause. The silence sat for a beat, a little more relaxed now.

Then Jason muttered, “Just… keep your comm on, alright? I’ll be your back up if she turns out to be a psycho.”

Dick laughed under his breath. “Thanks, but I think I can handle dinner with a woman who isn’t actively trying to kill me.”

A beat.

“…Though in Gotham, that might be asking too much.”

Jason chuckled, low and dry. “Exactly. You attract chaos, Grayson. Don’t act surprised if she pulls out a flamethrower over appetizers.”

“If she does, I’ll send you a selfie.”

“Better yet, send me her number.”

“Jay.” Dick said, laughing now.

Jason snorted something that sounded dangerously close to affection before hanging up.

Dick glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Jason’s call had eaten through his buffer. Grabbing his jacket, he headed out in a rush, weaving through the evening crowd with practiced ease.

He was nearly at the bar when doubt started creeping in.

She sounded perfect. Too perfect. Jason might’ve been joking, but… what if she was a psycho? Or a catfish? Or worse—some bored cougar using decade-old filters and a killer photo angle?

God, if she turned out to be fifty and looking for a sugar baby, Jason would never let him live it down.

The closer he got, the more cautious his steps became. A part of him braced for the worst. There had to be a catch. There always was.

He exhaled and pushed the door open.

Warm light spilled out from within—amber glow, clinking glasses, low laughter threading through ambient music. His blue eyes swept the room, scanning past faces and tables, until they landed on you.

And just like that, the world stopped.

You weren’t a catfish. You weren’t a cougar. You weren’t fifty.

If anything, you were even more stunning in person—hair pulled back just enough to frame your face, posture relaxed but unmistakably poised, fingers curled around a glass you hadn’t touched in a while.

And as if you could feel him watching, you turned.

Your gaze met his. And then you smiled.

It hit him like a punch to the gut—warm, radiant, unexpected.

Yep.

There had to be a catch.

Because no one looked that good—not without hiding something.

He was five minutes late, and you were already beginning to regret letting Milo talk you into this ridiculous scheme. He could’ve been using fake pictures. He could’ve been an old man. Or a serial killer. Or, knowing your luck, both.

If your murder ended up on the evening news, you were going to haunt Milo’s ass for the rest of his damned life.

You were just about to talk yourself out of it—stand up, make a graceful exit, maybe fake a stomach bug—when the bar’s front door chimed open.

Instinctively, you turned.

And there he was.

Relief swept through you like a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Not a catfish. Not a creepy older man. Not a serial killer—probably. No, he looked exactly like his profile.

Actually… better.

You slid out of your seat as he approached.

He was taller than his profile made him seem—broad-shouldered in a fitted navy button-down, black jeans, and that kind of easy, confident walk that made it obvious he belonged anywhere he stepped. His dark hair was tousled just enough to look good without trying, and when his eyes met yours, he smiled.

Dimples. Of course he had dimples.

“You must be Y/N,” he said, voice warm, edged with something rougher—like he laughed often, but didn’t sleep enough.

You nodded, sliding your phone into your purse. “And you’re not secretly a 65-year-old retiree named Gerald. So we’re off to a good start.”

He grinned, quick and genuine. “Only on weekends.”

That earned a laugh from you—real, despite yourself. The bartender arrived, sliding two drinks across the bar, and you thanked him as you both began walking to take your seats.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,” you said, tilting your glass toward him, teasing just enough to cover the fact that you’d almost bolted five minutes earlier.

“Traffic was a nightmare,” he replied smoothly, pulling out your chair before settling into his. “Also had to convince my brother I wasn’t walking straight into a potential kidnapping.”

You raised a brow, amused. “Protective, is he?”

He smirked. “Let’s just say he’s got trust issues. I think he genuinely expected you to be an arms dealer with a basement full of body bags.”

You sipped your drink. “So… not far off.”

That pulled a laugh from him.

You grinned. “Well, good to know I wasn’t the only one worried about that… wait—” you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward as if reconsidering, “you’re not a kidnapper, are you?”

He leaned back, one brow arched, eyes sparkling with amusement. “That depends. How do you feel about being lured into vans with puppies and free Wi-Fi?”

You snorted into your drink. “Honestly? That’s a tempting offer after the day I’ve had.”

“Noted,” he said with a mock-serious nod. “Next time, I’ll bring a golden retriever and a mobile hotspot.”

You shook your head, laughing. “You joke, but if you’d been five more minutes late, I was one panic spiral away from texting my best friend to start emotionally drafting my eulogy. He’s the reason I even have that damned profile, if we’re being fully transparent.”

“Well,” he said, lifting his glass slightly, “in the spirit of honesty—same. My best friend is also the reason I had a profile.”

You grinned. “Look at that. We already have more in common than I thought.”

“Mutual best friend peer pressure,” he said dryly. “Truly the bedrock of all great romances.”

You clinked your glass against his, smiling into the rim. “Still. I’m glad he pushed me. Even if I was convinced you were going to ghost me or try to sell me a timeshare.”

Dick smirked. “Oh, I considered it. But then I saw your profile and figured a neuroscientist would be smart enough to spot the pyramid scheme.”

“Smart enough, maybe,” you replied, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I stayed, didn’t I?”

His lips twitched. “Touché.”

He leaned forward just a little, forearms resting on the table, that easy charm sharpening slightly into curiosity. “So… how’s it going so far? On a scale from ‘tragic mistake’ to ‘might not fake an emergency text.’”

You made a show of considering it. “Hmm… somewhere between ‘free food is free food’ and ‘I might actually want to see how this ends.’”

He laughed, low and genuine. “I’ll take it. That’s progress.”

A beat passed. Not awkward. Just…Comfortable.

He leaned in slightly, the teasing softening in his voice. “You seem like someone who doesn’t usually do this kind of thing.”

Your smile faded just a touch, replaced by something quieter. “I don’t. Not really.”

“No horror date stories, then?”

Oh, I have one,” you said, arching a brow. “Three years of one.”

That surprised a laugh out of him, though the look in his eyes shifted—warm, attentive. “Oof. Long-term horror.”

“Yep,” you said, popping the ‘p’ lightly. “But it taught me a lot. Like how to spot a red flag… and never trust a man named Jake.”

Dick laughed, eyes glinting. “Jake, huh? Should I be worried?”

You narrowed your gaze playfully. “Not unless you’re hiding bleached hair and have an ego the size of Wayne Tower under that charm.”

He grinned. “Good news—definitely not blonde. And the ego?” He leaned in just a little, voice dipping playfully. “Mostly under control. Depends on the lighting.”

You laughed. “Ah, so it swells at golden hour. Noted.”

“Only if someone’s complimenting my jawline.”

“Oh, God,” you groaned, but you were smiling. “I walked into this, didn’t I?”

He raised his glass again, eyes glinting. “And now you can’t walk out. Social contract and all.”

You sipped your drink, still grinning. “You’re more charming than I expected.”

“Most people expect broody or boring,” he said with a shrug. “So I like to keep ‘mildly delightful’ in my back pocket.”

“Mildly delightful,” you echoed, amused. “That’s your official rating now.”

“I’ll take it,” he said with mock pride. “Could be worse. So…” He tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Tell me—what makes a brilliant, sharp, slightly intimidating neuroscientist swipe right on a guy with two pictures and a suspiciously short bio?”

You smiled, but this time it carried a note of honesty beneath the humor. “Because he didn’t try too hard. No gym selfies. No weird filters. And his first message actually had punctuation. That’s rare, you know.”

“High standards.”

“I work with brains,” you said simply. “I tried settling once. Never again.”

He gave a small nod, his smile thoughtful now. “A woman who knows what she wants—I respect that.”

It was your turn to tilt your head, curiosity glinting behind your grin. “Alright—your turn. What made you agree to this date? Because I saw the profile Milo made for me and—look, it was a disaster. For the record, I do not make a habit of dancing on poles. That was one time. At his bachelor party. Too many drinks. I got dared.”

He laughed, full and unguarded, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re telling me that wasn’t a career aspiration?”

“Shocking, I know,” you said dryly. “My dreams of becoming a neuroscientist-pole-dancer hybrid never quite took off.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He leaned in a little, expression mock-serious. “I was really banking on a lap dance over dessert.”

You nearly choked on your drink, snorting. “That's implying i stay long enough for dessert.”

“Then I guess I better make the main course memorable to convince you,” He smirked, leaning back just slightly, before the humor in his expression giving way to something softer. “But for the record?” A pause. “It was your eyes.”

That made you blink. “My eyes?”

He shrugged, but there was something sincere in his voice now. “Your eyes stood out. They were open. Genuine. Not guarded or jaded like most people in this city. That kind of thing’s basically extinct in Gotham.”

You blinked.

And okay, maybe the wine was hitting, or maybe it was the way he said it—casual but genuine—but your heart did something.

“Don’t ruin it now,” you said lightly, recovering with a smile. “That was dangerously close to poetic.”

“I have layers,” he said, lifting his glass in a lazy half-toast.

“Clearly.”

He smiled again—slower this time. Less of a flirt, more of a study. “I like people who don’t bullshit. You strike me as someone who cuts through it.”

You tapped your glass against the table lightly. “Only when I’m not too busy overanalyzing everything within a five-mile radius.”

“Perfect,” he said, finishing the last of his drink. “You overanalyze. I underreact. Balance.”

You raised your glass. “A healthy relationship dynamic if I’ve ever heard one.”

Dick was utterly smitten by the end of the night.

You were everything he wanted—and nothing he’d expected.

He’d known you were brilliant going in—your profile, however chaotic, couldn’t hide that—but what caught him off guard was everything else. The dry wit. The unapologetic honesty. The way you didn’t flinch from teasing him, even when he gave as good as he got.

You weren’t trying to impress him. You weren’t putting on a act like some of the socialites he’d went out with. You were just you—sharp, bold, genuine—and it was the most refreshing thing he’d felt in a long, long time.

Which was why, when the check had been paid and the last of the drinks were gone, he found himself reluctant to leave. Not literally dragging his feet—but close.

“I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much without having to dodge bullets,” he said as you both stepped out into the cool Gotham night.

You grinned, tugging your coat tighter. “Gotham’s highest standard for a good evening.”

He glanced at you, that crooked smile creeping in again. “I mean it. This was… really nice.”

You gave a softer smile this time. “Yeah. It was.”

A small beat of silence passed—once again not awkward, just content.

Then he cleared his throat. “So… I don’t usually say this on first dates—”

You smirked. “That sounds promising.”

“—but I want to see you again.”

You arched a brow. “That’s not scandalous, Dick.”

“I just mean—” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “usually I don’t care if there’s a second date. With you, I do.”

Your smile widened, but your voice stayed light. “Well, lucky for you… I don’t usually give second chances.”

He blinked, caught somewhere between amused and confused.

You took your phone out, holding it up between you. “But I’m willing to make an exception.”

He chuckled, pulling his own phone from his pocket and handing it over without hesitation. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

You tilted your head. “Only if you’re lucky.”

Phones were exchanged, numbers saved. As he handed yours back, his fingers brushed yours—just briefly—but the moment lingered.

“I’ll text you,” he said, voice a shade lower now.

You hesitated just a second, like you were weighing something—then stepped forward.

Leaning up onto your toes, your lips brushed the edge of his jaw, featherlight.

You pulled back, biting your lip as if trying to hold back a smile.

“I hope you do,” you murmured.

← Previous Chapter ✯ Next Chapter →

A GRIEVING HEART (pt. 3), kamisator ayato/reader.

SYNOPSIS... so it would seem there's a bit of eternity left in us all OR KAMISATO AYATO could never begin to understand the change that is love.

⋆ warnings, kamisato ayato & fem-presenting!reader, gentle angst, hehe in-laws, THE CHILD (sora), introduction of reader's family, + comfort for once :) [making a part 4 bc i want a better happy ending tbh]

⋆ notes, thinking about how i was just sobbing my eyes out to 'nobody gets me' by sza for no reason

⋆ tags! @stellakito @iiyumii @neverlandlostchild @hotgirlshit5 @jureminha @yunniemai1 @iamnotobsessed @irisxiel @lumpywolf @mrs-heelshire @kunikuzushisbeloved @pineapplesneedrights @kiyoomiwo @hyunromi @simplyhumanlol @esthelily @chiisananingen @xxevil-pleasurexx @eclevx @jcrml @xiaosonlybeloved @lightoftheamethyst

"WHAT is the meaning of this?!" of the elders slams the paper in his hand down hard on the table, expression incredulous, as if you had asked to give up the entirety of the clan's assets (which you weren't). "this is... preposterous!"

you remain calm sipping your milk tea, not allowing your expression of indifference to waver once. if your mother had taught you anything about being a matriarch, it was that remaining calm out of spite left you on the higher end of the negotiation.

you meet the eyes of every elder in the room, most have begun to break out in protests but one, in particular, remains calm and amused. her violet irises are unmistakable behind her cloak disguise and her interest moves you to continue. "are you all finished?"

this causes a sudden silence to settle over the room, all the attention now brought back to you. "you all seem to have forgotten who the matriarch of this clan is," you begin, eyes narrowed at the highest sitting elder in particular. "perhaps the years i took to raise my daughter in another estate gave you all the opportunity to think that even for one second this clan was yours to do what you pleased?"

"who was it that forged the non-aggression agreement with the tenryou commission? hm? who saved the clan from an investigation by the kanjou commission because some elders seemed to confuse business expenses with fraud?" you take a deep breath, voice still calm. "who spent years suffering through a loveless marriage simply to redeem the image of our entire clan and remain in the favor of the almighty shogun?"

your eyes tear across the elders' expressions, taking in the varying complexions of nervousness and frustration. "if any of you think for even a moment to question my claim to the hayashi clan, then i extend you all the invitation to make your case..." your eyes settle on the head elder. "or keep your mouths shut."

slow clapping emerges from the back of the room, the cloaked figure coming to stand and making her way to the front of the room. there's satisfaction in her eyes when she meets yours. "ara ara, it would seem you have truly grown up, little heiress," she muses. upon recognition, everyone bows their head in greeting.

"t-the elders of the hayashi clan greet the raiden shogun, almighty ruler of the city of eternity." no one dares to raise their head early.

raiden ei waves her hand in dismissal, putting everyone around the room at ease from their greetings. you bow your head, greeting your old teacher. "ei-sensei."

"what is this about marriage troubles i hear?" she turns to examine the expressions of the rest of the elders. "i may not have personal experience in the matter, but i'm sure it's old law to 'do unto him what any man has done you wrong', no?"

nobody in the room offers their thoughts, none looking to speak up before their great ruler. "hm? you all were so enthusiastic earlier to argue authority, why do you all hold your tongues now?"

the first elder speaks up. "i-it's not that we were... questioning authority, your excellence, j-just that perhaps we shouldn't jump to the most extreme of measures... as divorce is..."

"extreme? unfavorable? unadvantageous?" raiden ei hums amusedly to herself, turning to face you, her violet irises sparkling with intelligence. "i would say agreeing to an arranged marriage simply to satiate the greed of clan elders is a little extreme, no?"

you smile at that. "i concur."

the shogun turns to face the rest of the elders in the room. "you all may be the elders of the clan but i don't believe it to be very wise to question the judgement of the hayashi heiress, after all, i'm sure you all enjoy your own personal luxuries which would not have been possible if not for the sacrifice of your beloved matriarch."

looking at the room full of elders, you supposed it didn't hurt to come back home after all these years.

"if loss has taught me one thing," ei begins, coming to stand next to you at the balcony overlooking the sea. "it is that a grieving heart is the most unwelcoming of change."

the wind blows quietly as the sun begins to settle on the city, soft indigo and violet beginning to waltz into the skies. you suppose it's around the evening hour when sora will be returning home from her tutor lessons. "is grief something the raiden ei is familiar with?"

her smile is faint, but she hums lightly. "more than i wish to be." you remember hearing about her sister makoto, and how the loss brought her to retire to the plane of euthymia. "i may not be able to fight your battles, but i wish you eternal courage. she touches your arm lightly and small purple arcs of electro appear to gather where your skin meets hers.

your vision hums where it rests above the plane of your breasts, responsive to its giver. you bow, "the matriarch of the hayashi clan bids farewell to the almighty shogun."

and then you're watching as a pair of guards escort her from the estate, the evening breeze beginning to embrace you.

your mother used to lull you to sleep with stories of her younger days, the adventures, and the thrill. you remember how fixated you were on the tales of father courting her, all the gifts, dramatic proposals, and gloriously embarrassing serenades. the thought of your mother's many rejections has you chuckling to yourself as you watch the sky shift in rosy hues.

"oh, the things love will bring you to do..." she'd say wistfully, kissing you on your temple before bidding you goodnight.

and every night, your father would be waiting by the door, ready to welcome your mother into his arms as they waltzed to retire to their own bedroom for the night, nothing short of enamor in their eyes.

the wind tickles your eyes when you cry and you allow your posture to fold in on itself, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

and you weep.

because maybe you wished to be loved a little too.

part 1 ! | part 2 ! | part 4 ! (still in progress)

© tb3ih mmxxiii all rights reserved.

Hospital room (2)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

the jjk men realize how big of a mistake sending you back to tokyo was

incl: Gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna.

angst angst angst | taglist open

[EMERGENCY] GINZA LINE SERVICE SUSPENDED - TUNNEL COLLAPSE DETECTED – SERVICE TRAIN G08 PARTIALLY CRUSHED

REMAIN CALM AND FOLLOW STAFF INSTRUCTIONS

taglist:

@starlightanyaaa @not-aya @yourangel04 @m4n-eat3r @whoreforjjkmen @totallygyomeiswife @jjklover365daysayear @linaaeatsfamilies @jaemdonut @tatsuomii @perqbeth @yegrnn @chosostonguepiercing @samstrav @aquamarine001 @higuchislut @domainexpansionmypants @mortallyshadysoul @thigh-o-saur @hi-itsmee28 @go-go-gadget-autism @magalimachete @paula-bratu @miitsuis @eddiemxnsonlvr @raendarkfaerie @26xidk @sugurulefttesticle @chim-i @luvysmai @dovenu @waywardfanwinner @cherrymoon4 @lizzie3d2y @zaynerider @desi-laila @estellafake @ayumigotabittoolonely @byerno6 @kodzukensworld @bellsoftheball @patpatspatz @kxgumi @enerofairy @miizuzu @melimelisworld (i hope i got everybody)