#(this took a frustratingly long time to figure out how to make)

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

Hii! I really like your writing and I was wondering if you could do like something along the lines of reader being a suspect of a case he is currently investigating (it doesn't have to be the Kira case) and he keeps her under surveillance, like what he did with Light in the Yotsuba arc. It could like showcase how L and reader have to adapt to certain situations (showering, changing, sleeping ect). Err uhhh yeah! I don't know if that makes any sense. It could be like dairy entries or just third person. Fluff or smutt is a-ok! (Idk if I can request that this is my first time asking on Tumblr) Thank you! :D

sorry this took so long to get to, I liked it so much I made it a little longer!

Warnings: reader is a little handsy, brief oral, PinV

L has noticed (Y/n)'s numerous attempts to get him in bed with her. He can't say he minds.

She's a leading suspect in a...moderately important investigation: an American crime ring, suspected to be responsible for the laundering of millions of dollars, distribution of drugs and weaponry, and the deaths of at least 20 victims.

L was fairly sure that (Y/n)'s father was the head of it all, but he refused to confess. His alibis were frustratingly airtight, and nobody else would budge in their corroboration. Thus, L would detain what was most important to him, his daughter, as both a suspect and collateral for two months. His hope was that he could convince the criminal to confess, either by threatening her incarceration, or finding better evidence when locked up with her.

So, here he was, linked to her by a three-foot chain.

She was less than pleased, clearly, but took it in stride. "Anything to prove dad's innocent," she nodded, teary-eyed and quivering. It was quite convincing, he almost believed it...until he caught the faint scent of onions on her fingers moments later.

He said nothing about his observation, simply clasped one cuff to her hand, and the other to his.

now, he had her seated across from him, in his personal hotel suite. "I can't allow any cellphones or personal devices...you understand, of course. Please hand them over now."

She scoffed and grumbled, tossing over her phone.

He gave her an expectant look.

More grumbling, with the addition of an MP3 player, burner phone, and iPod.

"Your family has no involvement in any criminal activity...but you have a burner phone?"

She smiled. "I use it to call guys I like to hook up with. Can't have dad knowing about that."

"You're an adult. You still have to follow your father's rules of modesty?"

"I mean, I live with him, and he pays for all my stuff, so...gotta follow his rules."

He nods. He didn't believe her story, not completely, but he would accept her answers.

meanwhile, she was having to figure out getting the hell out of here without being caught. This guy was a world-renowned super genius, and she was a barely 20 something living off her dad's crime ring. She was crafty, sure, but not 4D chess level smart, not like him.

So, that raised the question of how to get on his good side, maybe even convince him to let her go. What did she know about him? He was smart...weird looking...dressed like a bum...probably a virgin-

Bingo.

Super genius or not, he was still a fuckless nerd, and she ate fuckless nerds for breakfast. There was a reason she got the chess club to do her homework on a rotating system for all of high school, and it wasn't because she asked nicely.

she smiled coyly, and brought her legs up to curl up on the couch, a...tasteful amount of thigh showing now that her mini-skirt rode up even higher. He didn't look down, his eyes locked on her face. Annoying.

"So...what about stuff like...showering?" Her voice had dropped to a noticeably more intimate tone, slow and careful. Like she was luring him in.

"The shower has an opaque curtain, and the toilet makes a practical chair when the lid is down."

He wants her to sit on the toilet while he showers? He wants to sit on the toilet while she showers? She has to hold back the biggest eye-roll.

"Oh, alright...what about getting dressed?"

"I've acquired a changing screen, for your privacy and mine."

"Kay...so, where do I keep my clothes?"

"In the closet."

"With all of your clothes? What about my...intimates?"

He shrugs. "Use a drawer."

Not even a pause, not so much as a stutter at the mention of her underwear. "Okay. Well. Now what?"

He pauses. "Do you enjoy cake?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) spends the first 24 hours reading or watching over L's shoulder as he works, as well as gorging herself on whatever treats he's eating. She has yet to seduce him, at least not to her knowledge. He doesn't do a ton, just sits there and atrophies for hours upon end as he works. She had to shower that night, and drag him away from his little set up to do so.

"What will you do when I take off my clothes?"

She tries to pull him farther into the bathroom, but he only lifts his limp arm at her tugging, not moving from his place at the doorframe.

"I'll turn around. You have plenty of space to change now."

"I thought you were going to sit on the toilet," she teases, the chains rattling as she pulled with more urgency. He padded forward, and shut the door behind him. His reluctance was a good sign for her, it meant he was nervous.

"I will." He turns around, and she begins to strip. She made a point to drop her clothes from a higher distance, so the fabric would make more sound hitting the floor.

She unclasps her hot pink bra, and accidentally tosses it in his direction. It hits the floor, and slides to the tile beside his feet. "Oops."

L looks down, but doesn't comment or react.

(Y/n) pulls the shower curtain back, and turns on the water. The water heats up quickly, the perfect temperature to make some nice steam. "You can't see me through the mirror, can you?"

He was in the middle of squatting on the toilet, faced to the wall. "Not at all. You're safe to do what you need to."

She bites her lip. He was so boring. "Mm...I don't care if you see me, anyway."

L, once again, makes no reaction. He knew what she was doing. It was quite original, he had to admit he's never been flirted with before, but her acting needed work. It was rather exaggerated, like that of a cheap porno.

Her idle humming played in the background of his thoughts, while he considered the purpose of her playfulness. Did she realize he wouldn't let her out, even if she did manage to seduce him? Or...was this a way of getting information about her father's case? He had to be careful. He glanced to the bra on the floor. Even if she wasn't winning any Oscar's, she was still pretty. Pretty, and with soap that smelled like cupcakes. This might be more difficult than he anticipated...

The curtain rod squealed against the metal hooks as she pushed the fabric to the side. She stepped out, one pedicured foot at a time, and wrapped herself in a towel. "Alright. Your turn."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, covered with nothing but thin polyester. "I won't be showering tonight."

She crinkled her nose, and stepped closer. "What do you mean? Do you shower in the mornings?"

"No. Watari has a device made specifically for me to clean with."

"A device? Like...what kind?"

"...like a washing machine."

She cracks a grin, and steps closer. "You should try a real shower. They can be nice, like standing in the rain."

"I have no interest in that."

her gaze travels from his eyes, to his lips, to his chest, and before he knows it she's a hairsbreadth away from him. "Well...if you ever want to learn-" her hand lands gently on his chest, manicured nails against his shirt- "I'd be happy to help you."

He looks down at her. She looks up at him. He carefully plucks her hand from him. "That won't be necessary."

She sighs, and steps to the counter. "Just a suggestion."

He stands there, and watches with boredom as she goes about her nightly routine. So much work. He brushes his teeth while he's there.

When they're both done, she steps away, ready to change into her pajamas.

He has no choice but to follow her. She gathers some clothes from the dresser, and walks to the divider working as a changing room. He has to stand there, and wait for her to finish. The towel gets tossed up on the top of the divider, and within minutes she's slinking out, drapped in a tiny silk slip.

L makes no reaction to her clothing choice.

"I hope this is alright. I usually sleep in the nude."

"It's better than nothing. There are two seperate beds, you can pick whichever one you like the most."

Better than nothing? That's it? "Alright...I want the one closest to the window."

He nods, and guides you to the beds, both set with matching comforters, nightstands, lamps, and pillows. They were less than a foot apart, it wasn't worth it to have two beds in her opinion.

She settles in by the window, and he takes a laptop from his nightstand. He seats himself on one of the pillows, and boots up the device to keep working.

"You're not going to sleep?"

"I don't need to."

That made her next plan slightly harder, but she could deal with it. After about thirty minutes of laying still, the AC cuts on. Hotel ACs always have a big vent by the window.

"L...I'm cold..."

"There are blankets in the closet."

"...It's too dark in here, I can't sleep. Do you think I could-"

"There's a lamp next to you. It has a dimmer, if it's too bright."

"...I can't sleep in new places, could I please lay with you? Just for tonight?"

"I don't see how that would help."

"Please?"

He sighs. "I suppose."

She jumps out of bed, and walks the one step it takes to get to his bed. He scoots over, and as she lays down, the chains settle between them. "Thank you."

He doesn't answer, he just keeps working. He was tough to crack.

She sighs and tosses and turns, but he's patient with her. Eventually, she actually does fall asleep.

And unbeknownst to her, has a sex dream.

At first, L thinks she must be pretending. Pretending to whine and mewl in the back of her throat as he hips shift. But he quickly realizes that's not the case, when he glances over to see her expression. It's a little too realistic for her crummy acting.

He stares for far too long, long enough for his computer to automatically shut off, simply watching her movements. The gentle squeeze of her thighs. The parting of her lips. The soft whimpering. He mindlessly leaned inward. He only snaps out of it when he can feel her breath on his cheek.

With a deep, steeling breath, he powers his computer back on. As he looks to the keys to type in his password, he catches of glimpse of something. That was odd...and a little concerning.

He hasn't had a real boner since he was a teen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the next day goes about as slow as the last, the same routine. When (Y/n) gets up, she doesn't bother changing out of her slip, she'd be staying in anyway. She does, however, take the time to fix her hair. She has a man to catch, after all.

It was so boring, sitting next to him without any phone or music. It made her restless.

"So...is this something you do often? Chain the daughters of your suspects to you?"

"No." He stirs his tea, and takes a sip. "Many have never even seen my face. You should feel privileged."

"Sitting here with nothing to do doesn't feel like a privilege. You don't do anything other than work?"

"I do plenty of other things. I eat, I use the restroom-"

"No but, what about for fun?"

"This is my fun."

She rolls her eyes. "What about when you were younger? When you weren't working?"

"...I've always worked."

"Always???"

"Since I was a child. I've taken small interests in things now and again, but this has been the only thing that's sustained."

"I guess that makes sense. Must be difficult to entertain someone so smart."

He shrugs.

"Well...what about physical stuff? Have you done any of that?"

"I don't follow."

"Like...sex. have you ever had sex?"

A choppy segue. "No. Its purposes don't suit me."

"You've never wanted to try it?"

He takes a fork full of chocolate cake, and stuffs his face with it. "Mn, when I was younger, perhaps. After further investigation it wasn't worth exploring."

"Maybe that's 'cause you've never had the chance."

"I don't think so." He's tired of this conversation, and he'd like to get back to work.

She pouts. "You don't have a TV or anything I can watch?"

She really was a foil to his work. Maybe that was her goal, to annoy him into making no progress. He picks up the landline by the couch. "Please send up a personal television."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now that she was sated with the TV like a toddler, he could work in peace, and the rest of the day went smoothly. It wasn't until the shower that something arose. It went as usual at first, (Y/n) goes first, L sits on the toilet. When she got out, she stared at his back for a moment.

"Are you going to shower tonight?"

"As I said, I don't shower as the average person does." She was right though, he did need one. He hated the feeling of sebum in his hair and on his face. "I'll have to use-"

"Wait." She smiles. "How are you gonna use that thing if we're chained together?"

He paused. He hadn't thought of that. How had he not thought of that?

"My offer still stands," she teased.

"...no. I can do it myself." He stands, and they swap places.

She doesn't sit like he does, meaning she gets to face the curtain. How fun.

L finds showering to be a straightforward process, though not nearly as efficient as his machine. Soap, make bubbles, rinse, do it again. Tedious. By the time he was done, she was thoroughly bored.

Bored, until he stepped out. He had grabbed a towel to wrap around his hips...and that was it.

He was skinny, of course, but there was this sort of muscle underneath...strong core, must be from how he sits...and there was this whispy black happy trail peaking out from above the towel. Dear god.

He saw how she looked at him. He assumed that it was another act...though she must be getting better at it.

The two of them left the bathroom to get dressed, her before him. She put on another silk slip, and he wore...basically the same thing, but with sweatpants instead of jeans.

"Sleeping tonight?"

"I will."

She smiles. "Can I please sleep with you again?"

He wants to say no...he should say no. "Fine."

the two settle in, back to back.

30 minutes later, when she's sure he thinks she's asleep, she rolls onto her other side, nuzzling her face into the back of his neck. Simple, innocent. Can't blame her, she's asleep.

L knows what's happening. He can't say it doesn't feel nice, that it doesn't send tingles up his spine, but it's still a ploy. He won't say anything. No matter what she does, no reaction will only lead to boredom, and eventual sleep on her part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been several more days, and (Y/n) can't help but be pissed. They were settled into bed for the night, her sleeping by him now a habit, and she was silently fuming. Everything she's thrown at him, the dreamy glances, the flirtatious remarks, her lacy underwear: all of it was ineffective. She feared the worst.

It couldn't be.

Was he...gay?

That was the only possible explanation for his disinterest!

"What," he asks lowly.

She's been staring for the past few minutes.

"Are you..."

He waits.

"Are you gay?"

He blinks. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you don't- you're not-" how does she explain this without giving everything away?

"Because I'm not fawning over you?"

He was annoyingly right. "Well- yeah! I mean, look at me!"

"Attraction is subjective."

"Pfft- not when you look like this." She gestures vaguely to her body.

...she was annoyingly right. "Perhaps I am gay."

She gives him a sidelong glance. He didn't sound very convinced of himself. "...no you're not."

"What does it matter, if I am or am not attracted to you? It won't change anything."

"Well, I think you're attractive."

"That's irrelevant."

"I think you are attracted to me. I think you're just trying to cover it all up, because you think I'm a criminal, and you're not supposed to be attracted to criminals. I think you want to fuck m-"

His lips crash onto hers, one of his big hands holding the nape of her neck to keep her against him. It's not very sensual, but it is passionate, incredibly so. When he finally pulls away, she's completely silent. "There. Is that all you needed?"

She stares at him. He stares at her.

She pounces, enrapturing his lips with hot, fervent kisses. He does nothing to stop her. His arm slides up her back, into the dip of the arch as she clambers into his lap.

It's a needy mess as they practically rip the clothes off of each other, first his shirt, then her slip, then his pants.

He leans forward, pressing her against his knees as he devours her neck.

He can feel her hips grinding hungrily against his, the growing amor an air that permeates and arouses.

She hooks two fingers in the band of his boxers. What were we working with?

She yanks them down, and...

Dear. Lord.

Long, veiny, blush pink at the mushroom tip. Oozing semi-translucent pre. That whispy black happy trail, leading to heavy balls.

She tentatively wraps a hand around the length, and with the way his hips involuntarily buck into her grip, craving something tighter and wetter, it's a clear sign of his lack of experience.

Her strokes were slow, teasing, her manicured nails standing out against the pale backdrop of his dick. He didn't moan or squirm, he barely made an expression. But his need was in his eyes. The way he watched her every movement, the drag of her now pre-cum covered hand as it pumped him.

Just as it started to get good, she released him. He didn't look away from his own member, watching as he twitched and oozed. It had been a while since he saw himself like that.

He only looked up when he felt her shift between his fingers, rising on her knees to pull down her panties. She was right in front of his face, the black lace slowly removed to reveal something that smelt obscenely sweet. She looked delicious, like she's plated up just for him. He wondered how...

As she got the panties halfway down her thighs, she felt something slither against her clit, a swirl of pleasure followed by confusion.

Looking down, she realized L had leaned in, and taken a taste of her by sliding his tongue through her folds. "Have you ever done this before?" She had to be sure...he was a little too good at this.

He looked up at her, and brought his hands to her bare hips to hold her still. "No."

With no reaction from her greater than a nod, he decided to test the waters even further. He locked his lips around her clit to give a slow but firm probing of his tongue. At the sound of her moaning, he knew he had done something right.

Meanwhile, as he curiously licked and suckled, she did her best to focus on finally getting her panties off. She had to eventually unsaddle from his lap, to his moderate disappointment, and shove them off her calves onto the floor.

When she got back into his lap, she didn't stand on her knees, so he could no longer taste-test. Thankfully, she was more than happy to kiss him sloppy as a replacement. He can barely focus with how her hand comes to adjust him, or how his tip slowly presses into the heat of her wet cunt.

She wastes no time taking him all the way in, the stretch maddeningly perfect, the way he brushes against her cervix nothing less than addicting.

"Mn...L," she gasps, setting a ruthless, needy pace that has him clutching her hips, the chain between them rattling.

The bounce of her tits, the heat of her skin, the rounded sounds of her moans: it was thoughtlessly addicting, carnal and needy in a way his other past times weren't.

He could get used to this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She woke up the next morning, sore and disoriented. She barely knew up from down. Probably because she was laying upside-down.

L might be the best she's ever had...and God, was he resilient. Round after round after round, like it was nothing. She glanced to the spot beside her. He was curled up, sound asleep. Sort of...cute.

If he weren't the detective out to get her father, she might consider a relationship with him.

She scanned his face, serene and softly snoring, hair still stuck to his forehead with a light sweat.

they did all of that in one night.

How much could they get done in two months?

[ddelylahh]

Aftercare.

Summary: After a night of partying with your boyfriend, Hyunjin, you wake up with a raging headache. Too exhausted to do anything, he takes it into his own hands.

WC:1043

The sunlight was far too enthusiastic for your taste this morning. It streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting warm gold across the bedroom floor, and straight into your face. You groaned softly and rolled over, immediately regretting the motion. Your head pounded, dry and heavy, like a bass drum with every beat of your heart. The room swayed slightly, and you shut your eyes tightly against the nausea.

You weren’t even sure what time it was. Judging by how your body felt—limbs leaden, mouth dry, and the very concept of standing up laughable—you guessed it was too early for anything that required movement. And then, like magic, you felt something warm brush your arm. A moment later, a gentle voice floated through the haze.

“Hey… you awake?”

You cracked open one eye and saw Hyunjin leaning over the bed, his long hair tucked behind his ears and his face lit with a soft, sleepy smile. Even in a plain hoodie and sweatpants, he looked frustratingly beautiful.

“Mmmph,” you mumbled, attempting words. He laughed, the sound light and affectionate.

“Yeah, I figured you’d be like this,” he said, smoothing a hand over your hair. “You were on another level last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, voice muffled by the pillow. “Why did you let me drink that much?”

“I tried! But you were determined to outdrink Felix. Which, for the record, is impossible.”

You winced at the memory. Somewhere between karaoke and dancing on the coffee table, you had lost track of your drinks and your dignity. But through it all, Hyunjin had been right there—laughing with you, steadying you when you wobbled, and eventually tucking you into bed like he always did. Now, he shifted on the bed, his hand trailing down to your back.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

You heard the pad of his feet as he left the room. A few minutes later, he returned, nudging your shoulder gently.

“Come on, sit up for me.”

You barely managed to raise your head before he slipped an arm behind your shoulders and helped you sit. In his other hand was a glass of cold water and two painkillers. You took them gratefully, sipping slowly as he watched with quiet patience.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He didn’t say anything—just leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“You didn’t have to take care of me,” you murmured.

“Yes, I did,” he replied simply. “You’re the love of my life. Of course I did.”

Your heart fluttered a little, even through the fog of your hangover. He set the glass down and reached into his hoodie pocket, pulling out something wrapped in a napkin.

“I made you toast,” he said proudly. “Just plain, for now. If you hold that down, I’ll make you real food.”

You blinked at him, feeling an overwhelming surge of affection. This boy—who had danced with you in the middle of your messy living room, who had carried you to bed when your legs gave up, who now knelt beside you offering toast like it was treasure—was far too good to be true.

“You’re amazing,” you said softly.

He raised an eyebrow. “I know.”

You laughed, which turned into a groan when your head protested. He winced in sympathy and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Then another to your jaw. Then, feather-light, one to the corner of your lips.

“Eat first,” he whispered. “Then you get more kisses.”

You leaned against him, wrapping your arms loosely around his waist. He held you gently, rubbing slow circles into your back.

“Can we just stay here forever?” you asked, half-joking.

He rested his chin on your head. “Only if I get to feed you toast and watch you recover from self-inflicted disasters.”

You poked his side. “I take it back. You’re a menace.”

He chuckled, low and warm. “But I’m your menace,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

You let out a soft sigh and let your weight rest against him. The toast sat on the nightstand, mostly forgotten, but this—this moment, with Hyunjin’s steady heartbeat beneath your ear—was all the comfort you needed.

“I like taking care of you,” he said after a quiet pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you’re half dead from cocktails and bad decisions.”

You lifted your head just enough to shoot him a sleepy glare. “You say that like it happens all the time.”

He gave you a look. “Last month. New Year’s. The infamous birthday brunch…”

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, flopping dramatically onto his chest. “Maybe it’s happened once or twice.”

His laugh rumbled under you. “At least you’re cute when you’re hungover.”

You smiled lazily, your fingers curling around the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re too good to me.”

He tilted your chin up gently with two fingers, meeting your eyes with a look so soft, so full of quiet devotion, it almost made you forget the pounding in your skull. “That’s kind of the whole point,” he whispered. “You deserve good. Always.”

Your heart skipped—literally skipped—and before you could overthink it, the words fell out, quiet and true:

“I love you.”

Hyunjin blinked, surprised for a heartbeat. Then his face broke into a smile that made your chest ache in the best way—slow, breathtaking, like sunrise after a long night.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips, feather-light and reverent. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice a promise. “Even if you try to fight Felix in Mario Kart while completely wasted.”

You groaned. “Please don’t bring that up.”

“Too late. It’s burned into my memory forever.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me then.”

He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers threading through your hair. “Happily.”

You nuzzled closer, closing your eyes as his arms tightened around you. The room was warm, the morning soft, and in that quiet little bubble of blankets and half-eaten toast and sleepy smiles, nothing else mattered. Maybe your head still hurt. Maybe you couldn’t move much. But lying in Hyunjin’s arms, full of love and laughter, you felt better than you had in days. Maybe even... perfect.

[sanspuppet]

👀 riding Mingi’s abs…..just saw a that photo shoot whit him in all denim, like the shirt is a denim crop and and bestie 😮‍💨😮‍💨 that would be the best funishment

MDNI ! smut

- W/T: sexual tension, abs riding, choking, fingering, squirting, sliiight degradation

—

You couldn’t fucking take no more. You wanted to enjoy your date with your boyfriend that day, but you had no idea he would wear a denim crop, that did nothing but accentuate his waist, so tiny and sexy, not to mention how his abs were exposed. Mingi couldn’t have not noticed that you didn’t even looked up at him when he talked to you, your eyes seemed glued to his waist, yet he was somehow enjoying your drooling reaction. It was a long evening of you getting distracted by his hips that you needed so bad beneath you. On the other hand Mingi did nothing but secretly smirking back at you, feeling your eyes constantly down his lower body. But at the end he proposed you to spend the rest of the evening by his house, god only knows what were his purposes… well somehow you could figure them out too, and by your situation in that moment you hoped with all your heart that you weren’t wrong. In fact, you wanted to fuck him so bad, so bad that you were feeling icky about how fucking wet you were, you just wanted to take care of it by using him, or vice versa, you literally didn’t fucking care about the details. Mingi noticed it, he knew every time when you got needy but damn… you literally looked like a bitch in heat from how you were clinging to him and how you stared at him, your entire behavior screamed that you wanted to be bred badly.

When he first stepped into his house he turned around to face you, holding you by your waist as he pulled you over the living room. Mingi looked down at your short figure compared to his tall one, a smirk forming on his lips. “Will you tell me what got your attention that much, pretty?” his nose brushed yours, ready to lock you in a long kiss. You wanted him now, there was no point in teasing each other any longer, you wrapped your hand behind his neck and pulled him closer, your tongues diving into your mouths while he busied himself with unbuttoning your shirt, his movements were messy, too eager to be done properly. You did the same thing with his denim crop, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You pulled away from your sloppy kiss and placed your palm on his naked chest, his heartbeat was faster than ever. You pushed him, making him fall down on the couch, he looked up at you with hooded eyes. His tongue trailed a wet line over his lips. You both stripped down completely, never breaking eye contact.

He patted his lap, moving you to sit on him. You glanced at his huge cock twitching at his movement. You sat down on his abdomen, his erected crotch pressing against your back sent shivers of arousal down your spine. “Ride my abs baby, i’m sure you’d want to” He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “Say it, am i right?” You automatically started rubbing yourself against his toned pelvis, his hand quickly gripped on your waist. “Fuckin say it before doing it, little slut” You sighed frustratingly. “Fuck— please Mingi i wanna ride your abs” He pinched your cheek, his cocky behavior showing. “That’s my good girl, you can go on now.” You let out the most feral sighs and loud moans once you started moving, forwards and backwards. You felt every little hill of his abs stimulating your clit, it was impressively good, a fucking bliss. You just needed more friction but your mind was already in a blank state, you threw your head back as you moved faster, your nails dig deep into Mingi’s shoulders. He was admiring you, every single detail of you, he noticed it, and loved it. Jeez if you were such a piece of art to him in that moment. “Don’t worry princess, i’ll help you” he said when he noticed you struggling to get to the highest. He quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, gripping tightly enough, the other one moved down your core, fingering you with all of his fingertips at a fast pace. He raised your head when you kept looking down at you wet cunt. “Eyes on me pretty, you know i want you to look at me whenever you cum. Feels good huh? You such a slut, getting off to my abs”

It was then that you loosed your fucking mind, you were fucked out, your mascara was smudged all over your eyelids by your teary eyes. You whined and moaned without even realizing it. Your lips were of a cherry pink from how hard you bit on them. Your hair a complete mess. And it also was when you finally got off of your high that you noticed you squirted all over his chest. Mingi was looking at all your figure with a proud smirk, his finger caressed gently your back.

“You’re the prettiest like this”

taglist: @bunnyluvr25 @xonga @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @therealcuppicake @hongjoongswifefr @sugarnspice630 @stolasisyourparent @kaimisutra @jyunhosbby @pancake-freckle @cherrycel

[peppertoastuniverse]

more than a late night snack: – gojo satoru chapter 3: green tea

contents: gojo satoru x reader, tw!ptsd, swearing, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, satoru being down bad and not knowing it yet, satoru not being good at feelings summary:  after trying to cheer you up after a bad day, gojo starts to wonder what these growing new feelings towards you mean.

wc: 2.5k

oh no. were you crying? did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm. he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

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you will yourself to unclench your jaw as you rustle into your pockets to fish out your loose change. today was just not your day – after a week of decent sleep you had your first setback in the form of a vivid nightmare that frustratingly did not allow to you go back to sleep. sighing, you add some coins into the machine and press the buttons on the right side to select your favourite bottle of green tea.

grinding your teeth while you shake off the residual panic that’s rooted within your subconscious waiting at the vending machine for your drink to dispense. you were making progress – the nightmares weren’t happening as frequently but you were getting frustrated at your slow progress. sure, other students had nightmares but never as bad as yours were.  were you that weak that you couldn’t fight off your own imagination? if only you had moved quicker, fought harder … maybe everyone wouldn’t have died and you – 

you shook your head at imposing thoughts and impatiently rubbed your temple to calm down the consistent migraine you had. at least the green tea would awaken your drained head and provide some relief from your racing thoughts. you breath hitches as you watch in slow motion as your bottle of green gets jams against the glass of the vending machine.

you blink, biting your lip. luck was not on your side today.

 you sighed heavily, feeling tears at your waterline. oh god, you were going to cry. okay, okay. that’s okay, you just needed to recollect yourself, right? no biggie, it happens, it’s not the end of the worl–

“ooooooh fuck, babe that’s unlucky,” says a sing song voice from behind you.

not this, not now, not gojo.

you unfortunately hear his cheeky smile before you see him. if you were having a bad day and satoru gojo showed up, it was just about to get worse. creeping into your peripheral vision you see messy white hair, dark sunglasses and an infuriating grin. if you turned around you weren’t sure if you were going to yell at him or burst into tears, so you clenched your fists, shut your eyes and hoped he got the hint to leave you alone. you at least hoped that geto was with him, at least if his trainer was there the blue eye beast would be more tolerable.

but luck was not on your side, only hearing one set of foot steps drawing closer and closer, you hold back an audible groan. you shut your eyes tighter around the sound of his voice, hoping that the darkness would smoother his presence. if you cried here – in front of him – you would die of embarrassment. you knew that he would never let you live it down. he still teased you that time you cried when you ate something too spicy after a mission with ieri and geto 4 months ago.

“- last time, it took like 6 colas to unlodge my original cola from this piece of shit. suguru practically died laughing. this one’s the worst,” he said banging his fist on the side of the vending machine hopelessly. “ya gotta go to the one near the gym, babe!  that one is waaaaay newer and better stocked too, but i mean shoko keeps hogging all the strawberry milk. i mean… i guess– we could also just break on the vending machine if-“

yikes. how long had he been talking?

you sigh and finally open your eyes to find him animatedly talking, hand on his hip, other hand on his chin, looking closely into the machine - nose almost touching the glass - trying to figure out a plan to get your bottle of green tea out. if you were stronger or if you had less pride you’d admit that it was almost endearing.

“- or I could- hey? babe? how come you never listen to me???” gojo turns to look at your vacant expression, his lower lip jutting out exaggeratedly, blue eyes burning bright with a tinge of annoyance.

shit, he caught you.

you sigh trying to drain the increasing flow of water in your eyes. “im just having a bad day, gojo. sorry,” you say sheepishly.

gojo eyes widen to take in your appearance, you slightly hunched shoulders, cheeks flushed at being caught. wait.. were your eyes more watery than usual? rims with a tinge of red, eyebrows downcast, you were fidgeting with your fingers unable to look at him in the eye. something explodes in gojo. did.. did he make you upset?

oh no.

the thought of him being the cause of your sadness almost made him want to throw up. he did not like this at all. but.. why was he feeling this way? maybe he needed a cold drink too. or- or maybe.. was it the tea that was the cause of your reaction? oh god, did he have to fight a bottle of green tea? he was one of the strongest he could do it; he’d definitely break the machine in half to get it for you, he would if that’s what you wanted. is that what you wanted? hell, he’d buy you green tea everyday - he’d buy out every store in Tokyo for you if it meant you’d smile.

he was a good friend - he’d do the same for Suguru or shoko, right? he just wanted you to be happy. but when you turn your back to him, gearing up to make an escape, he feels something else drop in his stomach.

“hey - hey it’s okay! i’m not mad, i swear,” he says moving closer to you, awkwardly bumping your shoulder with his.

perhaps it was the combination of his unusual sweetness and the acknowledgment of your fragile state, you feel your eyes grow misty once more. why was he so infuriating? you didn’t want to deal with him, you didn’t want to hear his taunts or his obnoxious comments. you didn’t have the headspace to come up with a witty response or to roll your eyes at him right now. but luck was not on your side today.

 attempting to save yourself from the embarrassment from him seeing your threatening tears fall, you begrudgingly lean your forehead gojo’s shoulder, nose facing his arm conveniently hiding your face. why did embarrassing moments always happen when he was around? you hated it but the need to hide, to disappear was far greater. you sniff softly.

realisation widens his blue eyes. oh no.

were you crying?  did he make you – now gojo really didn’t like this, he’s almost panicking, heart racing to an unfamiliar rhythm.

he winces, “shit, babe.” refusing to meet his eyes, you wordlessly shake your head.

c’mon keep it together. gojo can’t see you like this. “i-is this about the green tea- like it’s not your fault! the machine does that all the time, you didn’t break it or anything! it’s just like – “ “c-can you just.. just shut up for a sec.. please,” the weariness and fatigue coating your words. you sniff, fully succumbing to your bad day, hands moving quickly to rub the tears that lightly fall from your heavy eyes. gojo immediately quiets – a rare sight. fidgeting with his hands, he’s at a loss for what to do. you’re so close, so willingly close to him. your skin is comfortably warm and he’s surprised at how pleased he is that you’ve chosen to get close to him.

he raises his hand and pats your head as he listens to your breathing, trying to offer some semblance of comfort to you even if he knew that you wouldn’t fully accept it from him.

your eyes shut, unconsciously you lean into his soft touch. it felt nice, almost reassuring. “..what’s going on, babe?” he asks quietly, not wanting to upset you more than you already were.

“im.. im not babe.” he hears you muffle against his shoulder, voice still raspy with an abundance of unshed tears. “ and .. my head isn't for patting.”

gojo snorts and makes a point of fluffing your hair to your annoyance.  “yes, you are,” he mumbles, uncharacteristically gentle, his hand stilling on top of your head.

“are you… are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice. this new sense of helplessness from you was strange to him. even that night when you made udon together, you were out of it but you were still composed albeit exhausted. you’ve always had a bit of fight, but today your meekness and defeated tone started to make him worry.

“i.. i’m just…” you say as you struggle to find the words, unwilling yourself to vocalize your weakness to him. “..i’m not sleeping well," you put simply.

“how come?” he takes his large hand off of your head, instead moving to unconsciously play with a lock of your hair.

“… thinking too much, i guess.” fragile voice threatening to crack. you clear your throat swiftly. “i’ll be fine.”

gojo’s hand settles behind your neck, his warm hands offering a strange and new comfort. he stares at you with a look that you don’t understand, his blue eyes shining. was it understanding or knowing gojo.. pity?

you flush. you detach yourself from him and turn your back swiftly to hide yourself from him. hopefully you’d disappear if he didn’t look at you.

“y’know you don’t have to do that, right?”

you turn slightly angle your head to look back at him with a questioning stare. what is he getting at? “well.. you always hide.“ he states plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you don’t have to hide with me.”

you blink, red rimmed eyes not looking at his face, instead choosing to focus on the ground beneath him. you weren’t used to gojo being like this towards you, but maybe –

“..and ‘member, babe? six eyes i’ll catch it anyway, so don’t even bother trying- ” yeah he ruins everything. you shoot him the most murderous look you could muster.

getting the hint, he backtracks quickly “..uhhh I just mean, i'm – we’re here for you, you know? shoko, suguru and me. but since i’m the best -“ “nope. you’re at the bottom of that list.”

“wha- the bottom?” he gapes at you disbelievingly, hand over his quickly beating heart. “nuh uh! wait whose at the top then?! don’t tell me that it’s sug-“

you chuckle at his playfulness, you found amusement in seeing him all worked up. his eyes would blaze brightly, slender nose scrunched up, plump lips sculpting into a pout.. he was ridiculous. tilting your head up, your eyes finally meeting blue.

there was so much you wanted to say to him, but you settled on something that nicely encompassed everything:

“you’re so dumb, gojo.”

gojo slowly blows air out of his nose, he swallows his whines and instead pouts slightly at your comment. good this was good, if you were being mean to him then things were getting better - you were feeling better. calling your name he gestures you closer to the vending machine. you follow slowly, unsure of his intent. he inches closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off his lanky frame and the fresh smell of his shampoo.  

did this guy know the concept of personal space? why was he so close?

“i’ll get your tea out for you. i can blue the machine if you want! or-or I can –” he says with an easy grin.

your cheeks twitch up, threatening to smile. “you’d blow up my drink then you idiot,” you say voice infinitesimally stronger now, tone more playful.

“yeah, but if i were you i’d want revenge!”

“what, on the machine?” your eyes roll before looking down at your green tea bottle still hopelessly stuck. just like you were.

“dude of course! the bastard stole your green tea!  let’s fuck it up!” his eyebrows wiggle, bright blue laced with mischief.

you snort. “you’re crazy, gojo. if you want to burn some energy go spar with suguru!”

“what, him?” his nose wrinkles at your first name basis with his best friend – and not him. “why ask him when you’re here already? but y’know, i feel like we’d make a good team don’t ya think? we could do some damage together!”  if you didn’t want to tell him exactly what was going on, he could take your mind off whatever is making you upset, it’d be a win. and he always wins.  

“i’m not fighting the vending machine.” you deadpan, fingers coming to pinch your nose bridge, exasperation eclipsing sadness.

“what, babe? you don’t think I’d win???” gojo incredulously whines.

“are you seriously asking me that question right now?”

“all im hearing is that you don’t think i’d win against a cheating vending machine!!” gojo huffs dramatically, crossing his arms and turning away from you.

you fully laugh. his ears perk up happily at the noise, he bounces on his feet while mentally patting himself on the back. he made you laugh –  perhaps luck was on his side today.

he claps his hands suddenly. “right then babe, let’s go!” gojo practically shouts. giddy from his win, gojo quickly grabs your wrist and drags you behind him, the pathetic bottle of green tea forgotten still suspended, leaning on the glass. your eyes widen as you feel the warmth of his hand around your wrist.

“he–gojo! HEY! where are we going?! gojo, slow down, why are we running?!” you ask jogging to keep up with his long stride. "hey!" you sharply shake wrist connected to him to get his attention. “we’re going – oh sorry!” he turns his head, white hair catching the light as he notices your increased pace, he slows down to accommodate your shorter stride.  “we’re going to the convenience store to get some green tea, duh. oh my god, can we get some cake too? oooOOOHhH, let’s get the new strawberry cream cake they have! can we??”

“okay, but you’re paying.” you say amused at his excitement. gojo grins happily, “you think I’d let you pay? c’mon!” shaking both of his hands excitedly, jostling your whole arm when he holds your wrist.

“you can let go now, gojo…” you say, barely noting the way that his grip on you grows a little tighter.

gojo blinks as he hesitantly drops your wrist. quickly recovering, gojo exclaims, “awwwwwww, i thought we were just starting to get alon -” offering you a teasing smile.

“oh my god, let’s just go.” rolling your eyes. taking large strides to walk past him before turning back in a huff annoyed to see that he wasn't following you.

you sigh dramatically, “I’m going by myself if you don’t –“ he quickly falls in line with your steps.  “im coming, im coming! jeez babe, you’re so demand–“ you slap his arm sharply, eyes blazing, all previous sadness forgotten, suspended for the time being. gojo laughs loudly at your expression.

gojo’s day just got better and judging by the pep in your step, he smiles to think that yours did too.

A/N: i loooooove him, he's such a lil puppy here. -- head image credit: unknown! credit goes to the rightful artists dividers from: @/adornedwithlight

[rizumaryy]

The Lotus Flower Love Fragrance

Kaji Ren x Akeno Hana 2193 words Prologue

ーSame Promise

The faint, melodic chime of countless wind bells welcomed the slightest breeze stirring through Makochi. Each unique tone, hung with care by the townspeople at the entrance gate, symbolized the peace now protected by the students of Furin High School. Kaji walked the familiar path through the bustling Tonpuu Shopping District, the vibrant heart of Furin’s territory. A lollipop was nestled comfortably in his cheek, a quiet habit cultivated years ago. His headphones were slung around his neck, the familiar weight a constant, comforting presence – a gift from Hiragi from when he was just a kid struggling to control the restless energy that often led him into trouble.

Patrols were part of the routine, a rhythm Kaji had settled into. Usually, he was with Enomoto and Kusumi, his closest confidantes and fellow first-years. But today, he was scouting ahead, giving himself a moment to think. His thoughts, lately, had a new centrepiece: Akeno Hana.

They were dating. Officially.

The words still felt a little strange, like wearing clothes that weren't quite his size. For years, she had been Akeno, the cheerful, sometimes frustratingly oblivious girl who lived next door to Hiragi, who was somehow in his middle school class for the whole three years, and who had somehow become one of his closest friends. Now she is… Hana. He called her that sometimes, when the unfamiliar warmth in his chest bubbled up and he felt brave. Mostly he just called her Akeno, or nothing at all, relying on gestures or shared looks. It felt safer, less… exposed.

While Kaji still struggling to call Akeno by her first name, the girl already call him "Ren" as if it's the most natural thing in the world. He wouldn't admit out loud how much it affect him, making his chest tighten in a way that no lollipop or bass-heavy track could soothe.

It was their first time in a relationship after all. They were taking it slow, orbiting each other with a nervous energy that felt both thrilling and awkward. To anyone looking from the outside, they probably still looked like just friends – close friends, yes, but still just friends. They hadn't announced it, hadn't made a big deal of it. They weren't hiding it, not deliberately, but announcing it felt... like bragging? Or maybe just terrifyingly vulnerable.

But there was a certain person they had to tell. Someone who had been part of their lives for years, who had seen their friendship grow from reluctant acquaintance to something deep and intertwined. Hiragi.

“I can tell Toma, he’s like a big brother to me after all.” Akeno had initially volunteered, her pink eyes bright.

They lived next door to each other, after all, and her cheerful, blunt energy might soften the news. But the thought didn't sit right with Kaji. This wasn't just about telling a friend; it was about acknowledging something significant to a figure of immense respect and, yes, slight fear. It felt like his duty, a strange, formal acknowledgement that he was now taking on a different kind of care for someone Hiragi also cared deeply about. He should be the one to face the man who had looked out for them both for so long.

He spotted him then, further down the street near the ramen joint, fiddling with his phone. Hiragi Toma. Even from a distance, his presence was commanding. The towering frame, the spiky blonde hair, the familiar chained necklace. He stood out, a pillar of quiet intensity even amidst the district’s lively chaos. Kaji felt a familiar mix of respect, apprehension, and the strange, protective instinct that always surfaced when Hiragi seemed particularly burdened, the underlying anxiety that sometimes shadowed his imposing demeanor.

Kaji took a deep breath, the sweet taste of the lollipop doing little to settle the sudden knot in his stomach. He adjusted his headphones around his neck, a nervous habit. He walked over, trying to keep his usual poker face firmly in place.

"Hiragi-san."

Hiragi looked up from his phone, his intense gaze softening slightly as he recognized Kaji.

"Oh, Kaji," Hiragi greeted, his voice deep, carrying the weight of authority, yet with that familiar hint of concern Kaji often detected. "Patrolling?"

Kaji nodded, popping the lollipop stick from his mouth briefly. "Yes." He hesitated, his gaze flickering away. This was it. The moment. His mind raced, trying to find the right words. Directness was usually his way, but this felt… different.

Hiragi waited patiently, observing Kaji's uncharacteristic fidgeting. "Something on your mind?" he prompted; his tone gentle despite his formidable appearance.

Kaji swallowed, the sweetness from the lollipop suddenly feeling a bit cloying. He shoved his hands in his pockets, the lollipop returning to its usual place. "Yeah. Uh..." He looked up, meeting Hiragi's eyes. "It's about... Akeno."

Hiragi’s expression remained neutral for a beat, then registered a flicker of surprise. "Hana? Is she okay? Did something happen?" The concern was immediate, the protective big brother instincts kicked in as he tucked his phone into his pocket.

"No, she's fine," Kaji said quickly, maybe a little too quickly. He pulls out the lollipop from his mouth.

"Nothing happened." He took another breath. Just fucking say it. "We're… dating."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the district and the faint tinkling of wind chimes. Hiragi stared at him, his eyes wide for a fraction of a second before his usual composure returned. It wasn't a reaction of disapproval, more one of… unexpectedness.

"Oh," Hiragi said, the single word loaded with surprise. He recovered quickly, offering a stiff nod. "Oh. I see. Congrats." He sounded… awkward. The usually smooth, commanding Hiragi was stumbling over words.

Kaji felt a wave of relief mixed with more awkwardness, a slight blush crept onto his cheeks. "Thank you."

Hiragi looked at him for a moment longer, a new assessment in his gaze. "So... Hana, huh?" He crossed his arms, settling into a more relaxed, yet still imposing, posture.

"You sure about that, Kaji? She's, you know... a handful." There was a definite tease in his tone now, a nod to Akeno's cheerful chaos, her tendency to get lost, her sometimes-unfiltered honesty.

Kaji didn't even have to think about his answer. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, a rare sight on his face.

"Yes, I'm sure." He then threw the question back, his own curiosity piqued.

"How about you, Hiragi-san? Are... are you okay with her dating someone like me?" The question held a self-deprecating edge, acknowledging his own curtness, his quick temper, the reputation he carried.

Hiragi looked at him for a long moment. The amusement faded, replaced by a deeper, more thoughtful expression. He didn't answer the question directly. Instead, his gaze seemed to drift into the past, softening.

"I remember…" he began, his voice quieter, "When you two ended up in the same class in middle school. I was already a year ahead.

"Hana, all sunshine and tripping over her own feet, and you, all sharp edges and quiet glares." He chuckled softly. "Didn't think you two would even talk."

Kaji remembered it too. Hana, completely oblivious to his initial attempts to avoid her, just kept cheerfuly talking to him, her innocent straightforwardness a strange foil to his own curtness. And him, trying to keep his distance, finding himself somehow... drawn to her. He'd been awkward, clumsy in his interactions. Silently helping her picking a book she can’t reach from a tall bookshelf in the library or giving her curt advices in gym class since she’s so bad at it. But even back then, he’d felt that quiet pull towards her, that soft spot forming.

"She was so different from you," Hiragi continued, a genuine smile forming now, tinged with nostalgia. "She's blunt because she's oblivious, you're blunt because… well, you're you. But you still looked out for her. Even back then." He ran a hand through his spiky hair.

"You two were close, despite everything. Used to see you walking home together sometimes. She’d talk your ear off, and you’d just grunt or look away. But you always listened. And if anyone bothered her, you were the first one there, wasn't it?"

Kaji looked away, feeling a blush creep up his neck. That was the shy part of him, the part that hated acknowledging his caring actions out loud.

"She gets lost easily," he muttered, a weak excuse for his past protectiveness.

Hiragi chuckled. "Yeah. She does. She trips over air and strike a conversation with stray cats like a weirdo." He paused, his gaze returning to Kaji, serious now, but still warm.

"But she got a good heart. The best." He clapped a hand on Kaji's shoulder.

"Honestly, Kaji... seeing you two back then, how you were around her..." He sighed, a breath of realization seeming to escape him. "I should knew it would happen eventually. You guys just... fit, in your own weird way."

Then, his expression shifted again, back to that protective, big-brother mode. "Hana… she's important to me. Like a little sister, as you already know."

He looked Kaji directly in the eye, the intensity in his gaze returning, not intimidating this time, but serious and heartfelt. He repeated the same words he'd said years ago, when Kaji was just beginning to understand the complex web of relationships that bound him and Akeno.

"Kaji, please, take care of Hana." Hiragi said, his voice low but clear.

Kaji didn't hesitate this time. It wasn't just a duty; it was a promise he had already made to himself a hundred times over. He met Hiragi’s gaze steadily, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

"Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I will." It was the same answer he'd given back then, simple and sincere.

As they stood there, the weight of the conversation lifting, Hiragi looked past Kaji, spotting movement down the street. "Looks like your vices are looking for you," he commented, nodding towards Enomoto and Kusumi, who were hovering near a street corner, scanning the crowd with mild confusion.

When they finally saw Kaji and Hiragi, they hesitated. Clearly not wanting to interrupt what looked like a serious discussion between their captain and a Heavenly Four member.

Hiragi raised a hand, beckoning them over. Enomoto’s eyes widened slightly, and he exchanges look with Kusumi, who produced his phone. They approached cautiously, Enomoto straightening his posture, trying to look composed, while Kusumi remained his usual quiet self, bowl cut obscuring his eyes.

"Hiragi-san!" Enomoto boomed, giving a bow to Hiragi. Then he turns to his captain. "We werrrrre lookin' for ya, Kaji! Ya didn’t rrrrread our messages."

Kusumi held up his phone screen. 

Thought you slacking on patrol (─‿─)

"Was just talking," Kaji said, putting the lollipop back in.

Hiragi gestured between Kaji and himself. "Yeah, Kaji had something to tell me. Looks like he has something to tell you two as well." He gave Kaji a small, encouraging nod.

Kaji glanced from Hiragi to his two vice-captains, who looked curious and expectant. He took a breath. No big deal. Just saying it.

"We were talking about Akeno," Kaji stated flatly.

Enomoto and Kusumi exchanged a quick, confused glance. "Hana-chan?" Enomoto echoed. "Is everrrrrything okay? Did she get lost again?"

Kaji ignored the jab about Akeno's sense of direction. He met their eyes. "Yeah. Everything's fine." He paused, letting the poker face do its work for a second before dropping the bomb. "We're dating now."

Silence. Then, a beat later, an explosion of noise and motion.

"WHAAAAAT?!" Enomoto roared, backing his body in exaggerated surprise, though his grin betrayed him. He slapped Kaji on the back, making him frown and stumble from the force. "Congrrratulations, Capn’! Though it’s obvious with how ya two acts around each other. Took ya guys long enough. Hahahaha!"

Kusumi, nods excitedly, a wide smile on his face. He furiously typing on his phone. He held it up, his unseen eyes likely sparkling beneath his fringe, and gave Kaji a thumbs-up

Congratulation! I’m so happy for you guys! (≧▽≦)☆

Kaji just stood there, enduring the slaps on the back, a faint flush creeping up his neck despite himself. He felt the last of his tension dissipate. There was no judgment, only genuine happiness from his vice captains. They had seen it too, even before he had the courage to embrace it. The quiet bond between the curt delinquent and the clumsy, cheerful girl.

"Thanks," Kaji mumbled. The sweetness from the lollipop tasting like victory. He had told them. The news was out, at least amongst his core group.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe it wasn't as awkward as he thought. Maybe, just maybe, telling the people who cared about them, who had seen their friendship grow, wasn't something to dread, but something to… share. Even if he was terrible at sharing his feelings.

He rolled the lollipop in his mouth. He had promised to take care of Hana for Hiragi, and he would. Just like he always had, in his own, quiet, sometimes awkward, way.

Hana.

Yeah. He could get used to that.

[thewulf]

I Want To || Darrel "Darry" Curtis

Summary: Request - Can you do a Darry Curtis x Female Reader where she's pony's bestfriend bc they live in houses really close (greasers and all). She's always had eyes for Darry and he her but bc she was so much younger... Read Rest Here

A/N: For the sake of the story I made reader the same age as Soda (16 going on 17) BUT still Pony’s best friend because Soda is also Pony’s bestie. They’re all a buncha besties (including Johnny!!). Reader is v soft lol. Thank you for the request as always! Hope you like it :)

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.7k +

TW: crying, shaking, panic attacks, angsty

Shivers racked down your spine as you realized the Soc boys were actually following you. You’d had a sneaking suspicion they were following you after your friends peeled away to their respective houses on their walks home. But you’d all but confirmed it when you purposefully took the wrong street to see if they were in fact following you. They were.

Peaking over your shoulder you shuddered seeing the Soc boys car creeping along behind you. They wouldn’t jump a girl would they? You didn’t think they would, but then again, ever since Pony up and disappeared not too long ago leaving one of them dead, Bob Sheldon, things had changed. They stopped playing by the unwritten rules between groups after Johnny apparently stabbed him, killing him.

Where was Dallas when you needed him to walk you home? It truly was the first time you had been alone since Ponyboy, and Johnny vanished four days ago. Soda made sure to walk you to school. Dally or Two-Bit picked you up. They weren’t taking an eye off you, no. Not after the comments Steve and Soda heard at the gas station from other random kids about the Soc’s revenge. Randy had a plan, and you were a part of it.

You continued walking trying your best to come up with a strategy. It was the damn blue mustang which meant you really had to figure this one out. Randy was following you. Bob was Randy’s best friend and if he was as crazy as you thought he was he might just try and kill you in retaliation for his own friends death. You wouldn’t put it past the man who thought he was above all else.

Without so much as a second thought you booked it across lawns, making sure to take every way but the road hoping to lose the creeping Soc’s. You didn’t have time for tears now, no. You had to get to the Curtis household. One of them would be home. If not one of them then surely Dally, Two-Bit or Steve was there. Somebody had to be there. It was home away from home, there was always a random boy there.

Fortunately for you, you knew the area a little bit better than Randy and whatever fool was in his passenger seat did. You full out sprinted towards the Curtis residence when you finally made it their street. You flew past your house knowing nobody was home to make sure they wouldn’t actually kill you.

You heard the tire screech of the blue mustang gun it as you made it towards the unassuming house just a few roads down from yours. You flew through the front door gasping for breaths before slamming the front door closed, locking everything you could in your field of vision.

“Darry! Soda!” You called out between heaving breaths and throwing your backpack on the ground in front of the door like it’d stop them if they came barging through. They wouldn’t though. They knew better than to fuck with the Curtis household. Darrel was a lot of things, but he’d never take getting attacked in his own home.

“Jesus Christ kid. You about knocked the damn door off it’s hinges!” Darry’s booming voice bellowed from the kitchen before he saw your shaking frame hiding away from the front door. He stepped closer before much more calmly asking, “Hey, what’s the matter Bubs?” It was rare for him to call you that let alone with that caring voice. It’s like he knew how frustratingly attractive you found him. But no, nothing could happen. You were his kid brothers best friend. Off limits or some stupid shit like that.

You just pointed towards the door shaking your head, “Randy.” He caught just how shaky you were. You must’ve been terrified he’d concluded. He wished Soda was home so he could comfort you. He prayed for Pony’s return, but he just knew it’d be a while before he saw that kid once again. But he knew. He knew Ponyboy would come home. He couldn’t leave his brothers. He couldn’t leave you.

He looked towards the front lawn through the windows before turning back to you and grumbling a quick, “Stay here.” He was out the front door faster than you could protest. You paced back and forth through the living room into the kitchen and back. You were nervous. Nervous for him. Nervous for Pony and Johnny. Nervous about it all.

He walked back through the door before shutting it, “They’re gone kid.”

You frowned at the nickname. It was like he was mocking you. You knew it was exactly right having a big old crush on your friends older brother. Your own friend. The man who grew up faster than he wanted too to help Soda, Ponyboy and you have somewhat of a normal childhood. The man you had admired for a long, long time. The woman he chose to marry would be one hell of a lucky lady you had concluded. The man loved harder than anybody you had known. He cared so deeply for those around him. He pushed people hard because he knew he could get the best out of them. He wanted more for you guys than he ever had a chance at. His life was decided for him fairly quickly once his parents had passed. He wouldn’t have changed it other than them staying alive.

You placed your hands behind your back to hide their shakiness, “Thanks for checking Darry.”

“You ‘lright?” He walked towards you giving you a once

“I’m fine.” You hummed looking at the ground instead of him.

“You’re shaking bubs.” He noticed. Because he always did. He noticed everything. There was nothing you could realistically hide from him.

You straightened under his gaze, “Adrenaline or whatever. I’m still trying to catch my breath. You know I don’t run by choice Darry.”

His eyes scoured over your body once more before smiling at you poking fun at yourself, “Alright. If you say so. Why were you walking home alone anyway? You heard Soda and Steve. It’s dangerous.” His tone tightened up after he knew you were okay. That was one of the things you had grown to adore about the man.

You smiled knowing that was much more like him, snapping at you for being so thoughtless, “I waited! Nobody showed up.” You tried defending yourself, but you should’ve known Darry wasn’t going to lose this argument.

“You could’ve called. I would’ve gotten you.” His eyes burned into yours as you had to look up to meet his stare. You certainly didn’t feel like his kid brothers best friend in that moment. You felt seen. So seen by the man you held so dearly in your heart. How were you supposed to go on dates with other greasers when they were such knuckleheads compared to the man you had grown to love and adore? It was pointless and a big waste of your time.

“I thought you were at work. Can you blame me? You’re always there.”

He rolled his eyes, “Soda would’ve came.”

“He’s working Darry!” You countered with amusement in your voice.

But he wasn’t amused. Not by your terrified glance towards the door. Not by the shaking that still had yet to subside. But he cooled it knowing the reason he lost Pony was because he blew up at him. He couldn’t do that to you too, “Look, kid. I promise I’m not yelling at you. I just need you to be careful. Randy’s out there looking for revenge. And I really can’t stand the thought of him putting a hand on you. So please, for our sake just be more careful. I can’t protect Pony right now, but I can you. Let me.”

You nodded up at him, “I can do that.”

His eyes looked from yours back down to your trembling frame, “You’re still shaking bubs.”

With the look that he was giving you it felt like you were going to confess all your feelings right then and there. Thank goodness you didn’t. Even though you had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly how you felt about him.

“I can’t stop.” You admitted knowing a lie would be too obvious at this point.

He walked over and grabbed a blanket from the couch, “Come here

You shook your head, “You don’t have to Dar. This is enough.”

He ignored you, instead ducking into the kitchen, “I want to. Coffee or tea?” He asked you once more.

“Tea would be great.” You answered him knowing he was going to make one or the other if you didn’t answer. It was his style, his love language. He wanted to take care of those he loved and you fell right into it.

“A little milk and sugar. Just how you like it.” He smiled setting the mug down in front of you on the coffee table.

You looked at the tea, then to him and then back to the tea with a flush coating your cheeks. You sure weren’t doing a good job hiding those feelings, “Thanks Darry.”

He took a seat on the couch next to you, “You got it, bubs.”

You grinned looking over to him, “Haven’t heard you call me that in years.”

He huffed looking away from you, “It fits.”

“I’ll take it.” You grabbed for the tea letting it warm your hands before taking a sip, “It’s better than being called kid.”

He looked over to you, “You are just a kid.”

“I’m almost seventeen, Darry. Momma’s already talking about sending me off to college.” You laughed at the ridiculous thought, “Like we have the money for that. I’m sure I’ll end up at the grocery store or gas station.”

He shook his head so fast you would’ve missed it if you weren’t already looking at him, “You’re meant for so much more. I’ll tell you what, since you’re almost seventeen or whatever I’ll stop calling you kid if you let me call you bubs.”

You smiled at the sweet sentiment, “I don’t think so Darry. I think I’m right where I’m meant to be. You know, not everybody wants to run away from this life. I wish I could take this burden from you Darry. But I can’t. I’m also not going to pretend I hate this life because I don’t. And I’ll take it. Bubs it is.”

He looked down feeling it all hit him at once, “You ain’t a burden. None of you are. I just want you guys to have a choice. I didn’t.”

You took a long pause not sure if you wanted to say it. But there was a reason Ponyboy had run away with Johnny. Maybe he needed to know, “Sometimes it feels like it.”

You heard him suck in a breath surely not expecting this conversation to go on between the two of you tonight, “’m sorry bubs. So sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You wanted him to look at you. He was so freaking handsome and God all you wanted him to do was look right at you. You wanted to reassure him. He was a good older brother. He was doing the right things even if he couldn’t properly express them to his kid brothers. He loved and he cared even if they couldn’t see it. You knew he felt like he was failing but he wasn’t. Ponyboy was just learning and growing.

He shook his head, “I don’t think you ever get mad.”

You laughed this time, “I get mad at Pony and Soda all the time. I just don’t get mad at you.” You shrugged setting down the tea knowing you had opened the conversation wide open now.

He gave you a curious glance as he studied your still trembling hands. You were doing a good job at hiding it, but he noticed, “Is that so?”

You grinned, “I guess it’s your old wiseness. How could I get mad at that?”

“Hey smartass. You want dinner?”

You laughed feeling like the weight had finally been lifted off your shoulders, “There’s the Darry I know.”

He scooted closer to you sensing something was off with you. It wasn’t like him to press but something told him he needed to, “I’m going to ask you one more time. Are you alright?” It wasn’t lost on you that he was looking at your fidgety form under the oversized blanket that framed you. How could you lie to him?

“I’m scared Darry.” Your voice wavered as you tried your hardest to keep the welling tears unshed, “I’m scared for Ponyboy. For Johnny. I’m so scared they’ll never make it home.” And the thought of it made you spill those tears right in front of his oldest brother. You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that Sodapop wasn’t home. You could only take this humiliation in front of one brother.

Without so much of a second thought he pulled you right into his arms. Which meant you were sitting right in his lap. He pushed your head down into the crook oh his neck while he let his hands run up and down your back. He felt your cries before he heard you. You were fighting with all your might not to break down in front of him but his softness towards you was making it all the harder.

“Shh, It’ll be alright sweet girl.” You felt him give you a gentle squeeze, pulling you closer into his chest before he continued, “You really think Ponyboy won’t come home to us? To you? That kid is so lost without you. He’ll be back. I can’t promise you much, but I can promise you that.” He rocked you back and forth in his arms in complete silence. The only sound coming from you muffled cries. He held you longer than he needed. You’d stopped crying into his chest nearly five minutes ago, but he simply held you. One hand around your back and one hand cradling your head. It was exactly what you needed. Dally always knew.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’ll be okay.” He whispered as he held you. You fisted at the denim shirt he had on grounding yourself into him.

You pulled back looking over his concerned face. Why him? Why did you have to fall in love with the one person who would never love you like you loved him back? You took a shaky breath, “Thank you Darrel. I couldn’t do this without you.”

He brushed the stray tears away from your face, “Can I tell you something? Between me and you?”

You nodded quickly feeling the shivers run up and down your body from his hand running up and down your back as if was second nature. You were wear for Darry Curtis and everybody knew it. He had to know, had to, “You can tell me anything Darry.”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Inside and out.”

Your eyes shot to his with a wide expression, “Say you’re serious Darry.” You couldn’t believe him. In all your years of pining. Of making it rather of how you felt about him. You never even caught a hint that he could feel the same for you. This was new and so wonderfully different than the Darry you knew. Was a major breakdown all you needed to break down his walls?

“’m so serious, bubs. When am I not?” He smirked knowing he had you beat there. He was the most serious guy you knew. Everyone knew it. Don’t mess with Darry Curtis.

“You got me there Mr. Curtis.” A laugh escaped you as you burrowed your head into his neck once more, “Can I tell you something Darry?”

He smiled looking down at you curled into his body. You were too cute clinging to him. He didn’t want to admit how many times he’d imagined something of the sort. How could he think of you like that? He knew you since you were six. You moved in down the street and were fast friends with Soda and toddler Pony. Pony was attached at your hip and the rest was history. You might’ve been two years older than him, but you treated him like your equal. He loved that about you.

“You can tell me anything pretty girl.” His smirk only grew as he felt you grinning into his chest. Darry had always adored the spit fire of a girl. You were a born greaser, through and through. You had a mouth, but you had hands to back it up. Darry or Soda had to step in on your behalf many times because the Soc’s refused to fight a girl. You’d been roughed up a few times to ‘put you back into your place’ but it never worked. Your mouth only got bigger. You’d become a staple in their life so seamlessly that Darry couldn’t imagine his without you in it. He didn’t know when he started to like you, nor did he know when he fell in love with you. But he knew it. By the way he wanted to comfort you. The way he craved to see you smile. How he wanted to rip Randy’s head right off when he saw your face of terror. He loved you. And he was tired of hiding it for his kid brothers sake. Like you said, you weren’t a kid anymore. They could handle it.

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” It came out with less confidence than you would’ve liked but it was out, nonetheless.

He gave you a squeeze, “Can I tell you one more thing?”

“You can” You nodded your head on his chest. Your heart rate rising at what he could possibly tell you.

“I love you.” He let out a sigh, “Yeah, I love you a whole lot.”

You pulled away from him for a moment. Shock taking over, “You do?”

“I do.” He answered back quickly trying to hinder any doubts you might’ve had.

“That’s great.” You smiled up him. Your eyes ran over his features as you really looked at him up close without any interruption. He was so handsome, so freaking pretty. It was unreal. Your finger ran over a curl that had made its way over his eye. You brushed it away so you could look into his light blue ones.

“Is it?” He smiled as he too looked right back into your eyes, relishing in the small touches you had given him. He shivered slightly at your touch as goosebumps ran down his back. Oh, he was a sure sucker for you.

You hummed while continuing to brush your hands thought his hair. He’d just showered, fresh from any of the greasy gel he’d yet to put in it. Your hand glided seamlessly over the semi-damp curls that framed his face so beautifully, “It is. Wanna know why?”

“Tell me.” He played along with you. Darry rarely had patience, but you seemed to be the exception. You seemed to calm him instead of aggravating him. You pushed his buttons in the right way. He knew a girl like you would never come around again in his lifetime. If he didn’t go for you he’d have to settle for somebody and wonder what his life could have become if he didn’t take the leap with you. He wasn’t going to let that happen though. No, he was taking his chance.

“Because I love you too.”

The words were something Darry Curtis wish he could have recorded to play back. You had loved him too. He was sure those lingering glances and longing stares hadn’t meant nothing.

He smiled, more than elated by your admission, “Let me take you out on a proper date then. Friday for dinner. What do you say sweet girl?”

You grinned at the newest nickname. How you’d gone from kid to bubs to sweet girl within a day should’ve given you whiplash. But you were more than happy for the change. It might’ve seemed oh so sudden to everyone around you, but it had been years in the making between the two of you. Pony never noticed a thing. Soda noticed everything. Darry ignored it for a while, until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Sounds like a plan.” You brushed your hand along his cheek just wanting to touch him. You couldn’t help the smile that overcame you after seeing the trail of goosebumps your fingers left, “I’m not telling Soda though. That’s up to you.” You stuck your tongue out knowing you left him with the worst part of the whole ordeal.

“If that’s what it takes then I’ll happily tell that little grease head. And Pony too when he makes his way back. Serves him right for cutting out on us like that.” His smile grew as he saw your face light up in joy at his words. He was all in. He was fine telling them. He wanted them to know. He wanted people to know you were his. Certain assholes named Randy would back off. He could properly protect you without it being too overbearing. His heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw your terror-stricken face not only an hour prior. He nearly broke down as you were sobbing into him, clinging to his shirt with your life. He knew it was now or never with you and he wanted to commit. He wanted you. He always had and now was the time to take.

You laughed at him making light of a situation that was already so hard for him. He was so strong for everyone. Especially for you, “It’s a date then.”

A sigh of relief left his throat as he pulled you in for another long hug, “Finally. I’m going to take you out to the nicest dinner.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

He chucked loving that you hadn’t moved from his lap. He could seriously get used to this. It wasn’t often he got alone time around here, let alone with just you. He needed to cherish this time with you knowing it came around few and far in between.

“Like I said,” He brushed a stray hair away from your face as you looked his over, “I want to. For you, I want to do anything and everything.”

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[skxllz]

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“ fi- ” you sighed for the umpteenth time within the last ten minutes, trying your best not to frustratingly spazz on your girlfriend while she looped and pulled at the fabric around your neck. the two of you were attending a dinner from this recent job she had gotten —it paid well, was fairly easy and was a keeper— and she wanted you to look ‘ superb’, her words, but it wasn't helping that she had no fucking clue what she was doing.

fiona's tied bowties in the past for her brother's during school events, but those were easy. she's never had guidance for a regular necktie — all the guys she's dated in the past were all shitty and never wore suits, and it's not like she had a good father figure around to teach her shit incase of emergencies. so, you couldn't exactly blame her, but she wouldn't even let you budge so you could help. it was irritating.

“ I almost- ” she's sticking her tongue out and squinting, trying to focus as her fingers worked. “ got it- ” and she's looping it the wrong way again.

finally, taking ahold of her hands, you slowly pull them away from the sleek blue cloth. she's looking at you with parted lip, face surprised since you never denied her anything — but now, for once, you were permitting her from helping. “ fiona, ” you softly yet sternly spoke, as to show that you weren't mad. “ I got it, alright? just watch, baby. ”

“ but- ”

you gave her a knowing look and she pressed her lips together, reluctantly sighing. shoulders dropping. “ okay.. ”

after fiona dropped her hands to her sides with a pout, you leaned forward to place a soft peck to her cheek. “ just watch. it'll help you out later on. ”

a brief lesson began, then. you demonstrated by repositioning the necktie; crossing over each side, then bringing the fatter end in a loop around the skinnier end. slowly up through the connected side, so she could see, and over through the loose juncture - only to pull it tight, and loosen it from your neck just a bit.

your brows raised to her watchful eyes, “ did you get that? ”

fiona tilted her head, eyeing you for a moment. the cogs in her head were turning, going through each image in her head to make sure she memorized what you had did, before she nodded. “ yeah- yeah, I got it. ”

that's when you untied the cloth from your neck and grinned at her, gesturing the female forward, “ show me then. ”

her eyes briefly lit up. it was adorable to see her so excited to do something just for you - made your chest warm and heartbeat pick up.

you were lucky to have her.

she stepped closer and wrapped her digits over the cloth. pulling one side over the other, fiona followed the steps you previously displayed; her movements nimble, slow. she didn't want to mess up again.

and her progress had showed, as soon as she slowly slid the knot up your neck to gently tighten it - enough to where it wouldn't come undone.

this caused you to smile down at her, “ ya’ did great, fi. ”

the praise went a long way with fiona. she sheepishly grinned and ducked her head to prevent you from seeing how red get cheeks got from that compliment alone - but you saw anyway, chuckling under your breath.

slipping a finger under her chin, only to pick her head up. her brown, doe eyes were sparkling like crazy; glassy from feeling proud of herself. it was a simple task, but just the fact that you took the time to show her meant so much.

you leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips, humming. “ I love you, gorgeous - now come on. we're gonna’ be late. ”

[skylitstories]

unfinished soukoku oneshot :) (let me know if i should finish it lol)

1.4k words, hurt/comfort, touch starvation + touch aversion “What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place.  Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.” Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?” Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.” or, Chuuya gets hit by an ability that will kill anyone who touches him. This isn't a problem until a mission requires Corruption.

It all began on a joint mission between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency.

Of course, it was Chuuya and Dazai who were selected for the task. It seemed like the universe, and the people at their respective organizations seemed outright determined to place the two in close proximity whenever possible.

Most times, they both played up a practiced annoyance at having to even set eyes on one another, sending harsh quips back and forth in a public and dramatic fashion. It felt normal to the both of them, in a way that nothing else had in a long time. 

The mission was excruciatingly simple. Perhaps that is what makes how desperately wrong it went all the more difficult to comprehend.

Everything was going smoothly, between the lack of any alarms being raised and a successful kidnapping of a certain powerful figure-- there was even a clear escape route. Until, of course, Dazai decided to peek around the man’s office.

“Idiot!” Chuuya had stage-whispered, still occupied with keeping their target from trying to escape. “We need to get going, there’s no time for your stupid ass to go snooping.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dazai replied, languidly coming to rest his arm on the desk and leaning over with a taunting smirk. “You’re almost as particular with your plans as Kunikida.”

For some reason, Chuuya had gripped harder onto the arm of the man they were intending to kidnap, enough to make him let out a muffled cry of pain into the duct tape over his mouth.

“Let’s just go,” The redhead had ground out through his teeth. “Come on, bastard. I’m sure you can handle not being a selfish ass one damn time.” 

Not sensing the change in Chuuya’s demeanor, or perhaps just choosing to ignore it altogether, Dazai had continued a lazy stroll around the office, pulling file cabinets open and leafing absently through the papers held within them. 

“We have plenty of time,” The detective had said, waving a hand at Chuuya in a gesture that could only be described as dismissive. “Feel free to go on without me, now that the mission’s completed. I’ll go back to the Agency later.”

Without thinking, Chuuya had scoffed aloud. When he spoke, it was as though his every word were a blade dipped in venom. “Great to know you’re still the same old Dazai.”

The words themselves wouldn’t have been enough to give the brunette even a moment of pause. No, it wasn’t until the end of the sentence that Dazai even really registered what his former partner was saying. Something in the way the redhead said Dazai’s name like it was a curse, like it was something that disgusted him to even say, had set something heavy with hurt and anger in Dazai’s chest.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dazai had straightened, setting the papers down and taking a step towards where Chuuya was by the window.

Chuuya, being fractionally more insightful than Dazai, had realized that somewhere along the course of the conversation, their mostly-playful bickering had dissolved into something more serious, something harsh and angry that they hadn’t fallen into since Dazai had left the Port Mafia.

That didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“It means,” He said through gritted teeth. “That even though you’ve run off to play pretend and try to be the ‘good guy,’ you’re still the same exact asshole that I knew.”

Dazai’s gaze sharpened, and if it were directed at anyone other than Chuuya, it would have struck a lightning bolt of fear through whoever was unfortunate enough to be met with it. 

That won’t work on me, dumbass, Chuuya thought, but did not say. Nothing you can threaten me with will ever hurt more than when you left.

“Why are you doing this?” The brunette asked, not quite hiding the way his fists clenched in his jacket pockets.

Because I want to hear you talk again. Even if it’s to shout at me and call me a hundred terrible things, I would tear the world down to hear your voice for just a moment longer.

“Just trying to make you pause and actually look at yourself for a minute,” Chuuya says instead, forgetting all about the hostage and the mission and any semblance of discretion. “Making sure you’re not deluding yourself into thinking you’ve changed even a little bit.”

A stab of something pierces Chuuya’s chest at the way Dazai’s expression shuts down, the way the angry light behind his eyes falls further and further away, growing colder and duller until it’s gone.

And suddenly, Chuuya is faced with the same dead eyes that Dazai had worn every day of his life when he was still with the Port Mafia.

In truth, the redhead had been painfully aware of how much Dazai had changed since joining the Armed Detective Agency. How he had been more lively, easier to talk to, and seemed to maybe have a trace of happiness behind the cold shell Chuuya had always known the brunette to be.

It wasn’t until all that was gone in an instant that Dazai’s former partner realized just how much had changed. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Dazai said. Not an accusation, nor a question. More of an observation, something forged in neutrality and designed to pierce Chuuya’s heart.

I did this. He realized, all notions of continuing this argument leaving his mind at once. 

“Maybe I am.” The words tasted like poison on his tongue, coppery like the nail he felt himself hammering into the coffin where their partnership rested. 

Dazai nodded, and that was when all hell broke loose.

All at once, the hostage had taken advantage of Chuuya’s brief moment of vulnerability to wrench himself from the man’s strong grip, rolling onto the floor and making his way under the desk. On instinct, Chuuya lunged for him, only to find himself stopped by a harsh, unforgiving hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back.

His mouth opened to snap at Dazai, because who else would dare distract him from their mission? The word died in his throat when he was met with a masked face disconcertingly close to his.

“Who the fuck are you?” Chuuya gritted out, trying futilely to wrench his wrist out of their grip. 

After a tilt of their head, they whispered a few words that were muffled by their mask, and suddenly an overwhelming dread whited out Chuuya’s mind.

“What the hell did you do?” The redhead snapped, finding himself frustratingly frozen in place. 

Despite their mask, the assassin seemed to smirk. “It takes a bit to set in. Don’t let anyone touch you, unless you want to have even more blood on your hands.”

Panic and confusion took twin positions in the forefront of Chuuya’s mind. “The hell does that mean, you crazy bastard?”

Their smirk widened, hand slipping off of Chuuya’s wrist. “Don’t worry, you’ll survive it. I’ll let you put the rest together.”

Chuuya still couldn’t move.

…

When next he came to, it was to the familiar feeling of being in a moving car. His eyes fluttered open slowly, lightheadedness bringing a strange cotton-like feeling to his mind. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dazai’s voice came floating through the car, barely loud enough for Chuuya to even comprehend. “Care to explain what happened in there?”

“Not r’ly.” The redhead muttered, curling himself towards the window.  

“Not an option.” Dazai shot back.

Why is he pushing this? Chuuya thought miserably, head pounding as he pressed his temple against the window. 

“Because,” Come the answer, and oh, Chuuya said that out loud. “You froze up when that assassin got you, and promptly passed out as soon as they left.”

Before the redhead can even attempt to formulate an answer, the detective cuts him off. 

“And every time I tried to carry you out, you flinched and started pleading that I don’t touch you.”

Fuck. There went Chuuya’s chances of hiding this particular incident.

“Explain.” Dazai’s tone left no room for argument.

“Fucker hit me with ‘n ab’lity,” The redhead tried to explain with his leaden tongue.”Said nob’dy could touch me.”

There was a pause. “And you just took their word for it?”

“F’ck off, Dazai,” Chuuya really didn’t have the energy to deal with his former partner being disappointed in him. “No point risk’ng it.”

There was a pause, and for a moment Chuuya let himself believe that maybe Dazai had actually respected his judgment and let something go for once.

“I’ll research abilities that have restrictions on touch,” Is what the detective says when he eventually does speak. “We’ll get you out of this, Chuuya.”

Chuuya doesn’t think he’s being too delusional when he hears a promise woven into the words.

[flamingspud]

He’s a Skateboard Legend, Trust

How did Joel get here? Pride. But it was fine, he knew what he was doing.

Joel bets Etho he can fit in with the skateboarders. It goes about as well as you expect.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63372760

My second work for the @mcyt-soulmate-sweepstakes !! Enjoy!

fic under the cut:

How did Joel get here?

Pride. But it was fine, he knew what he was doing.

Not about skateboarding mind you, no, he hadn't the faintest clue about how to do that. He wasn't even properly good at balancing on the board.

But it couldn't be that hard, right? He bet money on it, and there was no way he was going to let Etho win.

He was sitting off to the side, when Etho, frustratingly, said "hey, Joel, why don't you show us your skills?"

Joel waved him off, like he'd been doing all night to any skaters who'd invited him to actually skate. "I'm just taking a drink, I will in a minute."

You see, the deal wasn't to prove he was an excellent skateboarder, but instead not to be caught out as a fake for the entire night. However, Etho wasn't going to make that easy for him.

"Ok, I'll wait for you then."

Joel could hear the smile in his voice as he said it. He had made sure to say it loudly enough so that the others heard, so it wasn't like Joel could get out of it without blowing his cover.

Fine, if he was going to be that way, so be it.

Joel took a long sip of his water, buying time to calm his nerves.

He then screwed the cap shut and walked over to the bowl with confidence.

Joel could tell by the way Etho looked at him that he was smirking at him under his mask. "Why don't we have a little challenge, see who skates better?"

"Sure," Joel said, way too confident for a man who just threw out his excuse of he wasn't trying.

"Perfect," Etho replied. Joel then watched as he dropped down into the bowl, flew up the other side, and did some kind of kickflip or something in the air before seamlessly rolling back down and across to where Joel and the others were standing.

He neatly hopped back up and landed on his feet. "Top that."

Joel could tell by the crowd's reaction that he hadn't done something insanely impressive, something only Joel knew was to make a bigger fool out of him.

He simply smiled lazily at him, and put his board on the ground. He stepped up onto it, managing not to lose his balance as he got himself into position.

Joel took a deep breath, and pushed off.

He fell off as soon as the first wheel went over the edge. He shot his arms out in a last ditch effort to save this, but it was no good.

He hit head head on the lip of the bowl, and scraped his hands as he tumbled down to the bottom.

"Joel!"

Etho was quickly at his side as he sat up, somewhat dazed.

"Are you ok?" He asked, all his competitiveness gone.

Joel gave him a shaky thumbs up. "That's what the helmet's for, right?"

Etho was incredulous. "You weren't meant to actually try it!"

Joel giggled. "You thought I was going to give up that easily?"

"Well, kind of, yeah."

Joel laughed even harder at that. "Well you thought wrong."

Etho rolled his eyes and helped Joel to his feet. He then grabbed his board and guided Joel out of the bowl.

"Woah, what happened? Are you ok?" One of the bystanders asked once they were on flat ground.

"Fine," Joel said. He doubted anyone was going to believe that he was a pro now.

"I think he has a dodgy wheel," Etho said matter-of-factly.

Joel's eyes went wide. Once Etho had helped him over to a bench off to the side, Joel hissed "what was that?!"

"What was what?" Etho asked innocently.

"You just saved my ass from being found out!" He told him, "why?!"

Etho shrugged. "I figured you were way too desperate for five bucks to let your sacrifice go to waste."

"I wasn't desperate," Joel insisted, but Etho shook his head.

"You tried a bowl trick when you have the grace of an elephant."

"Hey, I did pretty alright for the first second!"

Etho laughed. "Yeah right."

Joel shoved him. "You're the one who challenged me!"

"Yeah, that was my bad."

"Yes, it was."

A comfortable silence fell between the two, as they watched the others go about their boards.

Despite absolutely eating cement, Joel had fun.

Maybe he should make bets with Etho more often.

[nephilimeq]

Hey, I was just wondering what age you thought Derek was in season one? Cause it’s a heavily debated and unknown piece of information. Me personally I always thought he was 19 in the pilot, and this was before I had read anything about the writers wanting him to be that age in the pilot. It was just the way he acted, to me, it doesn’t seem like a mid-20s man. Also stiles says the fire happened “ like ten years ago” but then a few episodes later Peter says he’s been in a coma for 6 years. So I was just curious what you thought. Also stiles saying that is always made out to be taken as it literally happened exactly ten years ago, and people always bring it up but they never talk about how long Peter said it had been.

Sorry if this is long I just enjoy your blog and your thoughts. I wanted to share mine while also hearing it from your perspective. Hope you have a wonderful day, you deserve it!

This is a very tricky subject to handle, because the writers made mistakes in their own timeline so they switched things around.

But in the very first episode Stiles says that Derek is only a few years older than them. I always figured that Derek was around 19 in Season 1, while Stiles was 16.

The reason why they messed everything up so horribly is because they hadn't actually created a timeline for all the events when they started writing, and to me, it made the show feel like a fan fiction writer who was just making it up as they went and then all the reviewers were saying, "Hey, you have a few continuity errors," and instead of trying to make it work, they just made something up and didn't really try to go back and adjust anything.

There's a scene that happens when Stiles is asking Peter and Cora about Derek's past (Season 3, Episode 8 "Visionary"), and he is trying to find out how old they are, and this train wreck section of dialogue occurs:

Stiles: Okay, if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he? How old were you? ...How old are you now? Peter: Not as young as we could have been, but not as old as you might think. Stiles: Okay, that was frustratingly vague. How old are you? Cora: I'm seventeen. Stiles: See, that's an answer. That's how we answer people. Cora: Well, seventeen how you'd measure in years. Stiles: Alright, I'm just gonna drop it.

This dialogue made me so pissy when I heard it the first time because I knew that this was the writers' response to the viewers and fans. The fans are Stiles in this conversation, and the writers are Peter and Cora being purposely "frustratingly vague" in the hopes that we'll just "drop it", which a lot of us did because they wouldn't give us any straight answers.

They messed up and they know it.

In my head canon -- because it makes the most sense to me -- Derek is three years older than them. Canonically, Derek is actually only ten days older than me, as seen in this enhanced screencap right here (from Season 1, Episode 11, where Kate has him kidnapped and held up in chains):

So according to this he would have been around 22, about to turn 23 in the first season...but here's something to take into consideration. This driver's license isn't for California -- it's for New York. I have a theory that he got a professional fake I.D. so that he could do more jobs (such as bartending) while he was out of state.

Now, when Stiles mentions the fire was "like, ten years ago," I genuinely think that he was just generalizing. Derek was sixteen when Kate took advantage of him raped him, which means that the fire happened when Stiles was around twelve/thirteen (as he has a canonically April 8th birthday, so it all depends on the months).

Regarding anything Peter might have said...please remember that it has been firmly established in the show that Peter is an unreliable narrator. Stiles openly admits that to Cora in the previously mentioned Season 3, Episode 8, "Visionary".

A lot of these issues are because of the lack of consistency from the writers.

I think the biggest problem was when they cast a younger Peter and totally threw the timelines off, trying to make him only a few years older than Derek -- which he wasn't. Peter is Derek's uncle, for crying out loud! The man would have been in his late twenties, early thirties when Derek was a teen, barely looking any different than he does in the show...and yet the writers and producers thought that making him look almost like a teenager was the right call.

I do think it was a last ditch attempt to try and make Derek waaay older than Stiles because they didn't like the shipping -- but they had already established too much of their timeline at that point and simply messed up and didn't have the guts to admit it.

Simply put, I genuinely think Derek was nineteen and turned twenty during season one.

Hope that answers your questions, anon!

[outlying-hyppocrate]

:3 (it took me a frustratingly long time to figure out how to make this. But yk what they say...never back down never what...never give up...)

THIS IS THE MOST MAJESTIC CREATION TO EVER GRACE MY EYES. I THANK YOU SO DEARLY, CIEL "THE CEILING PURRER" CHELOVEK-FUKOUNA.

[thedeerman]

Do You Want to Know?

Hey all, I've been writing nonstop because im obsessed with these stupid idiots and im so excited for whats coming up!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Ch5: Realize

Alastor woke up earlier than he’d like. A lot earlier. But… He woke up. Which meant he fell asleep. He tried to think of falling asleep the night before, vaguely remembering tossing and turning late into the night. But at some point, for the first time in days (weeks?), the radio demon had at least a few hours of solid rest. Alastor sighed. A deep, heavy, appreciative sigh. I don’t know how it happened, but bless the sins it did. He had no fretful dreams. No sudden, panicked waking. No feeling like there was still a hole torn into his chest. 

The demon shook himself awake, not allowing his little bit of rest to be spoiled by thinking of how unrestful he’d been recently. Don’t ruin a good thing, he thought as he prepared for the day. He picked up the envelope on his desk on his way out and made his way toward the kitchen to make coffee. His shadow followed wordlessly, seeming to smile wider than it had in days. Alastor ignored it, figuring maybe the thing had been tired too. Does it get tired…? He wasn’t sure. He’d never thought about it before. 

Coffee was made, and the daily chore board was still out and displayed in the meeting room. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, but it looked like the board had been updated. Curiosity led the radio demon into the room to get a closer look. No senseless chores with Lucifer today, thank the stars. Only his regularly scheduled hotel running nonsense. He went to turn away, but his eyes caught something before he could. A name. Lucifer. What’s he going to be doing today…? Alastor stopped himself suddenly. This is enough. This needs to stop. He cringes, remembering the contents of the letter that he had written last night, before getting some well needed rest. Why was his mind so frustratingly stuck on Lucifer recently? Alastor skimmed over the schedule again and decided that the morning meeting wasn’t important today. Nothing was important today. There was one place and one place only that he needed to be if he was to fix this, and it sure as shit wasn’t under the same roof as Lucifer.

Alastor waited until Charlie made herself known to excuse himself for the day. The princess seemed disappointed but understanding, as always. He patted the girl on the head before handing her his daily envelope and taking his leave. 

Lucifer’s morning was uneventful. Really uneventful. As in, out of the two most noticeable beings in the building, only one was present for their morning meeting. There were plenty of sinners in the hotel, but as far as Lucifer’s fleeting attention was concerned, the only souls that mattered were Charlie and Alastor.

Lucifer stops mid-stride at that thought. What in the absolute fuck? This was getting to be… too much. Like, genuinely honestly too fucking much. The king of hell had spent a lot of time alone. His wife had left him decades ago, taking Charlie with her. After the loss of the only light in his eternal life, he didn’t really get out much. Depression took over, he spent day after day working on silly little rubber duck toys (okay, maybe he still does make them here and there, what of it?) and there were times when literal years went by without so much as touching another living soul. That screws a guy up, right? 

Lucifer continued aimlessly wandering down the long, empty halls, letting himself reason that this was all just a response to some kind of mental illness or something. It’s not like a mentally healthy individual would want anything to do with Alastor… But then his mind does what his mind does. It spiraled. And by the time he’d looped around the entire ground floor of the hotel, he was already wondering if Husk would make him a breakfast cocktail. Husk… Suddenly, the king gets an idea. It might not be a good idea, but it’s an idea nonetheless. He put the idea aside, letting it simmer a bit before deciding on it. For now, he was going to go back to his room to read today’s letter. 

Once he got to his tower, Lucifer carefully pulled the papers out of his pocket. He glanced over today’s writing prompt first, already wondering what question would put Alastor at the forefront of his mind yet again. Well, aside from the question of where he’d gone off to early this morning. Not your business. Not your problem. The king looked over the mostly empty page. On the top, the prompt read: “Name one thing that you assumed about your person but have since realized that you were wrong about.” Lucifer let a few stray thoughts run through his mind. I assumed a lot about him. Some of it was right, like… he’s an asshole. But some of it was wrong, like… Lucifer glanced at the radio on his shelf, thinking again of the calming music that he fell asleep to the evening before. The angel was too deep in his own thoughts to get this done right now. He turned his attention to the sealed letter addressed to him. Tearing and tossing the envelope onto the floor, he slowly opened the perfect square inside. Lucifer’s eyes ran over the words. It said:

“Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.”

One thing that I’ve found interesting about you has been your sudden dedication to the hotel. You weren’t around before the attack, but ever since, you’ve been here every single day. A second thing that I find interesting about you is that you tend to walk most places, even though teleporting would be easier. The third interesting thing that I’ve noticed about you is your new bowtie. 

The color suits you. 

If Lucifer’s jaw could have hit the floor, it would have. The first point stung a little, the awful guilt he felt over not being in Charlie’s life up until now was still pretty fresh. But he takes a moment to also acknowledge that it mentions his continued dedication since getting here. The angel shrugged at that, okay, so that part isn’t ALL bad… and moves on to the next point. It was true, he did walk most of the time. He hadn’t realized that anyone noticed. Walking gave him a few minutes to process going from someplace comfortable and private to going someplace filled with other troubled, tortured, miserable souls. It was a soothing routine. And that brought him to the final point in the letter… It was… a compliment! A straight up, no nonsense compliment, no hidden meaning that he could find, just a genuine nice thing being said about him. 

Lucifer glanced at the corner of his desk, locking his eyes on the two perfect little squares that sat there. He opened each of them up and read all three of them, one by one. First,

One thing I admire about this person is his raw power. It has a lot of potential. Another thing I admire is his determined unwillingness to back down from a challenge.

Next, 

One thing I am curious about is your absence throughout the day. Aside from scheduled meetings and chores, you almost always seem to be missing.

And finally,

One thing that I’ve found interesting about you has been your sudden dedication to the hotel. You weren’t around before the attack, but ever since, you’ve been here every single day. A second thing that I find interesting about you is that you tend to walk most places, even though teleporting would be easier. The third interesting thing that I’ve noticed about you is your new bowtie. 

The color suits you.

The fallen angel read the notes over and over, and noticed that the first letter was formatted differently from the others. Like the writer was answering the question directly to whoever had asked, rather than to the person intended to read it. Lucifer stared at the pages like they would eventually give in to his questions, telling him exactly who was writing to him. Not knowing who he was assigned to didn’t bother him much before, it was a gentle curiosity at best. But now, this person complimented him. There had to be some ulterior motive, but how? How could someone manipulate his feelings about them when he didn’t even know who they were? People didn’t just give compliments to him. Not even his own wife (ex wife…) gave out free compliments. His mind flashed to his typical, pre-mixed mess of anger and depression that always took over when he thought of Lilith, but it was amazingly short lived. Lucifer didn’t let his thoughts take hold and drag him into an ex-wife shaped emotional breakdown. He managed, somehow, to break free of the thoughts almost as soon as they started. He looked down at his new bowtie and then back at the final page in front of him. His cheeks warmed up noticeably as he again read the line at the bottom. 

The color suits you.

Several minutes of silence later, Lucifer remembers the idea he had earlier. He decides that he doesn’t actually have much of anything to lose and opens a portal down to the hotel bar. 

Cannibal Town was one of the more pleasant areas of Hell, and all credit was due to the overlord ruling over the territory. She was tall, sharp, wise, and kind. She was also one of Alastor’s most trusted confidants. As the radio demon pushed the door in front of him open, Rosie’s head turned towards the sound. She immediately lit up at the sight of her dear friend, rushing over to greet him. “Alastooor! I wondered when you would stop by again!” He nodded, and quickly said, “Rosie, dear, do you have a moment?” The cannibal overlord’s smile widened as she rushed her visitor into the small sitting area in the back of the shop. It was closed off from the rest of the building and Rosie had made it nice and private. Alastor sat at the table, as he had many times before, lost in his thoughts. His thoughts about…

Rosie interrupted his wandering mind with “Are ya hungry? Want a little something to nibble on?” As much as Alastor typically loved Rosie’s assortment of fingers and legs and whatever else she may have gathered up, he just couldn’t find his appetite. “No thank you, but I do appreciate it.” Then he added, “I’ve come to ask for some advice.”

Rosie left the snacks where they were and went to the table to sit across from her friend, bringing only a small tea cup along with her. Alastor could feel her black, endless eyes watching him, quietly, as he formed his next thought. Once he could find the words, he leaned across the table just a bit, as if someone would be listening in. “I’ve been experiencing some… problems.”

“What kind of problems, hun?”

Alastor’s smile was strained, almost a snarl, as he thought about the past few weeks. His sleeplessness, the flashbacks, the panic, and of course… “Lucifer.”

“And what has the king done now to deserve such a reaction?”

Alastor closed his eyes for a moment, trying to mold his thoughts into words. “Nothing. He’s been very… civil” the demon starts. “But… There's something else.” With a heavy sigh, he began explaining the princess’s new activities to Rosie, and that he was being forced to write anonymous letters to the devil. He went on, describing his inability to sort his thoughts on the fallen angel. At first all Alastor wanted was for him to leave. His very presence jeopardized all of Alastor’s plans, ones that he had painstakingly put together over the course of months. He told her about his contradicting thoughts, how he wanted to be far away from the king, but also as close as possible. How he couldn’t get the idiot out of his head no matter how hard he tried. He told her what he had written in the letters, how all he could think of the night before was that the angel was actually listening to his radio broadcast, how looking down at the wide eyed king made his dead heart beat louder. 

Rosie listened in silence, sipping her tea and dunking a severed finger into the hot liquid before biting into it. She waited patiently as Alastor continued.

“That isn’t all. I’ve been experiencing these terrible flashbacks… From the battle.” He took a moment to remind himself not to let the anxiety take over. “I keep seeing it again and again. I can’t sleep. I can’t even walk down an empty hallway without being strangled by my own memories.”

Rosie spoke up. “I didn’t realize the invasion had affected you like this…” Her frown was quickly replaced with a gentle smile. Then she asked, “Is there anything that helps?” This made Alastor pause. After a moment, he admitted that the previous night, he actually slept for a few peaceful hours. For the first time in weeks. But he couldn’t fathom why.

When he looked up, the overlord in front of him had a mischievous smile on her face. She was trying to suppress it, but it was obvious that she was failing. “Now Alastor. Didn’t you mention that you spent the evening thinking about Lucifer and how he’s been tuning into your show?” The radio demon was still. He stared into the black holes that were Rosie’s eyes, confused. She let out a sweet, giddy laugh. “Alastor, honey. I’ve known you for a long time. A long time. And I genuinely never thought this would ever happen. But who am I to deny what’s clear as day in front of me?” Alastor was getting uncomfortable, but only slightly. He forced himself to take a breath and looked again at Rosie. 

“I find suffering just as fun as anyone else in Hell, but even I am lost at your response to my… problems.” Rosie looks at him with a knowing look in her nonexistent eyes. 

“Okay, listen. First off… with the battle. You’ve never been one to run from a fight unless it’s looking dire. So I suppose I’m right in assuming that you got hurt pretty good?” Alastor gripped his microphone protectively, willing his mind to keep him here, in Cannibal Town, in front of Rosie. “Yes” is all he says. 

“Well, that fact isn’t going to change. What’s happened is done and over. But sometimes in a near double-death experience… Well, physical wounds aren’t the only ones that need time to heal, you know?” Alastor took a moment to consider this. There were very few times in his life or death where he felt so helpless. He didn’t remember dying. The bullet that killed him had gone straight through his brain and his death was over before Alastor even knew it had started. The only other time previous to the invasion where he felt so helpless was…

He forced his mind away from the thoughts he felt beginning to rise to the surface. Another unhealed wound, the demon thought to himself. He was silent for a long time, and then let out a sigh. “I suppose you may be right. Perhaps this will pass in time.” Rosie’s smile grew again. 

“Now, with your other little-” she chuckled at the height joke, “issue.” Alastor leaned forward, his mind now firmly placed in the present. “Do you really not see it, dear?” He shook his head, confused as to what this woman could be possibly going on about. “Please,” Alastor says quietly, “If you understand how I can remedy this, explain it to me simply. In plain words.”

Rosie took a moment before sharing her thoughts. “Okay.” Her smile fell a bit as she continued, “Now, all I know is what you’ve just told me. But I’ve been around a long time, and the way souls interact with each other is my specialty. You know that.” Alastor nodded slowly. “So, what I’m about to say may sound odd to you, but keep in mind that I have very good reasons to say it.”

It was quiet for too long. Far too long. Alastor was about ready to fill the building with an unholy amount of radio static just to bring an end to the silence when Rosie finally spoke again. “The feelings that you’re describing to me aren’t a problem, dear. It isn’t hate at all, it’s interest! You’re interested in him. There’s nothing wrong with that!” The radio demon’s eyes narrowed at his friend’s words. “Interest?” He questioned.

“Yes! The kind of interest that one soul gets for another. The kind that leads to spending more time together…?” As Rosie waited for the demon in front of her to piece her words together, Alastor sighed. “You think I want to be friends with him?” Rosie laughed, “No! Oh Alastor, you’re too funny. I guess I’ll just come out with it.”

“Yes, please do,” Alastor hissed, losing his patience. Rosie is overcome by another fit of giggling, trying to hide her wide smile behind the cup in her hand. What she said next, she said in a sing-songy voice, with a smile wider than even that of the demon sitting in front of her. When she finally says it, it’s like she’s been holding it in for hours. 

“You have a CRUSH, Alastor!!!”

The bar isn’t entirely empty today. Angel was sitting on one of the barstools, watching Husk with a really odd level of intensity. I mean, the guy was just wiping down the counter. What was so interesting about that? He sat down a couple of seats away from the spider demon, not wanting to intrude on anything. And yet, before he could even ask for a drink, Angel was perched on the stool next to Lucifer, staring. Staring at… him. The king felt his face get warm at the sudden attention. He opened his mouth to speak but it was too late. 

“Heya, short king~” He didn’t know how to respond to that. Before he had to make a decision, a fluffy paw set a drink in front of him. It was the same drink as last time. The king gazed up guiltily at the bartender. Husk grinned and said, “Uh huh. Figured.” Angel watched the interaction without a word, but Lucifer could just vaguely make out a sudden feeling of annoyance coming from the demon. Or maybe it was jealousy? Why would this literal porn star be- But the discomfort was gone as soon as it arrived, dissipating immediately as Angel’s eyes met with Husk’s. And then both sets of eyes simultaneously looked to the king. 

Lucifer started stuttering, “Uhhh… If you were in the middle of something, um, I can, I can go, I-” It was Angel that interrupted him. “No, that’s not it. We uhh… We wanted to talk to you about somethin…” Lucifer’s eyes went wide at this. They want to… Talk to me? He struggled to put on a casual look. “Yeah! Yeah of course! Uhh.. What’s, um, what’s up?” His smile was beyond forced, probably looking as ridiculous as it felt, and his mind was racing trying to figure out what it was these two demons wanted to talk to him about.

Angel continued, “See, Husky and me have been noticin’ some things.” Husk spoke next. “Yeah. Some worrying things.” If the devil was capable of having a heart attack, he would've found out right about then. He didn’t even get a chance to ask what they were talking about before Husk continued. 

The bartender let out a heavy sigh. “Listen, highness. It ain’t my business really, but it’s getting a little…” Angel spoke up. “Weird? Obvious? Embarrassing? Oh, definitely embarrassing. The second hand embarrassment I get watching you two is-” Husk glared, stopping Angel mid sentence. The cat demon went on. “I seen the way you look at him. And you might not notice, but he’s been looking at you a hell of a lot too.” He shrugged. “All I’m sayin is, everyone’s already expecting it now. Might as well give it a shot.” Lucifer was lost. Completely and utterly lost. 

Angel piped up then, adding “Okay, but all I’m sayin is you betta hit that. You might be the only one that can!” Husk put a new drink down in front of Angel, briefly distracting him with the bright pink liquid. Lucifer can’t figure out how to speak all of a sudden, but manages “Ummm… I… I really honestly don’t know what exactly is happening here… Who exactly.. Uhh, what are we talking about again?” Was he drunk? No, he’s barely had a sip of his liquor. So why isn’t this making sense?

Husk speaks again. “Look, everyone in the hotel notices the tension. It’s getting painful. The two of you can’t even be in the same room without making the new residents uncomfortable. None of them understand what’s going on. They’re constantly waiting for some kind of blow up between the King of Hell and the Radio Demon.”

The… Alastor? What? The king must make a face of some kind, because Angel puts his fluffy head down on the counter with a thunk. The devil could barely hear the muffled voice say “Really has been a while for ya, huh?” Lucifer was past confusion. He mentally started back at the beginning of this interaction, hoping to understand this better the second time around. Well, he came down to the bar to ask Husk about Alastor and-

Oh. 

Ooooooohhhhhhhhh.

Shit.

“Now he’s gettin it,” Husk mumbles to Angel. The spider peered at the king for a moment before downing his drink and turning his body fully to face Lucifer. He put his hands on the king’s shoulders as if afraid that the man was going to flee from the conversation. Angel’s large, mismatched eyes drilled into Lucifer as he said “Listen up, short king. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been in the game, so I’m gonna help ya out. First things first, let's get it all out there. You’ve obviously got a thing for the strawberry pimp radio star.” Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but Angel's second pair of arms appeared just in time to put a finger up, stopping him. “Don’t try to argue, we’re past that point. You like him. And lucky you, Husky over here thinks Mr. Fancy talk radio voice himself has the hots for ya, so no need to worry about that!” 

It’s a good thing Lucifer didn’t actually need to breathe. Because that was absolutely not on the table right now. Angel kept speaking, watching the king closely. “Now, here’s the hard part. You have to actually initiate something. I get it, sin of pride and all. But if one of ya doesn’t start this talk soon we’re all gonna lose our minds.” Husk sighed, leaning against the bar. Angel looked at the king for another long moment and finished with “We’re here to help ya. So now that that’s outta the way, why don’t ya start spillin’ it?”

Alastor didn’t host his radio show that evening. After his visit, he needed some time to think. Before leaving Cannibal Town, Rosie gave him a small stack of literature on various topics involving relationships. The promise to return the books to Rosie was the only thing keeping the demon from burning the things on sight. He did not need a relationship. He did not want a relationship. Alastor had never fallen in love, in life or in death. He had become close to others plenty of times, Rosie being an example. But of the many times someone had been interested in Alastor, it was never reciprocated. 

The radio demon sighed. Now he was the one with the interest. He sat at the desk in his tower.  Alastor’s shadow then motioned towards the pocket on the demon’s coat. Charlie had given today’s envelope and paper to him on his way back in, after his brief trip out. He’d placed it there and forgotten about it. It wants to read the letter…? Alastor eyed the entity suspiciously before quickly opening and disposing of the envelope. The paper inside read:

“Name three interesting things you’ve noticed about your person.”

Alastor,

I’ve noticed many interesting things about you. The first was your shadow. It really is an interesting being. 

At this, the demon’s shadow practically purred. Alastor’s eyes went wide at the response before waving his hand to motion the thing away. He continued reading. 

Another thing I’ve noticed that I find interesting is your coffee mug. It’s a silly pun, but still funny. And the third thing I find interesting is your radio show. It isn’t what I expected. 

Ignoring the mention of his shadow (again), Alastor thought about the other two points. His smile widened a bit at the mug reference. It was the radio demon’s favorite piece of dishware, afterall! And then… Whoever’s writing to me has listened to my broadcast… At that moment, Alastor wondered for the first time if maybe, possibly, the resident writing to him was the same resident that he had been writing to. 

But the thought didn't take root, as Alastor knew of multiple others in the building that listened to his show semi-regularly. And his simple, jazz-filled broadcasts always seemed to surprise, so it wasn’t exactly new information. He appreciated the sentiment though, reading the words over again in his mind. Alastor was never opposed to being complimented. 

After a moment, the demon remembered the other half of the project. His letter to Lucifer. The letter from today’s envelope was smoothed out and placed in the stack with the others. Glancing over the new paper, he read the writing prompt. “Name one thing that you assumed about your person but have since realized that you were wrong about.” Alastor closed his eyes, replaying the events of the day. It’s not until shortly before he goes to sleep that he finally puts words on the page in front of him.

It’s Quiet Time. That’s what Niffty called the short span of time between the night owls and the early birds, where absolutely no one was around. Well, not no one… Nifty’s favorite part about Quiet Time was the visitor she sometimes got, an old friend. The little maid had known Shadow for as long as she’d known Alastor, and that was quite some time now. In the span of those many years, there were plenty of times when Alastor was asleep and Niffty was not. And during those hours, Shadow and Niffty spent their time together. 

Shadow had not been coming to see Niffty much after the angel’s attack. Niffty knew what that meant, Alastor wasn’t sleeping. The being was odd, it had the ability to leave Alastor, going quite some distance before restrictions set in, and yet rarely left the demon’s side during waking hours. It’s something that Niffty would ask about, if Shadow could speak. But he can't, which sometimes leaves him limited. He can write if there's a pen around, but most of his thoughts can be made perfectly clear to Niffty without the need for words. They’d spent decades together, words weren’t necessary. But now, for the second night in a row, Shadow was here! Smiling and spending time with the quick little demon running up and down the halls. 

Shadow stopped suddenly, frowning. It took a moment before Niffty realized her companion was no longer behind her, having stopped her scurrying at the end of the long hallway. But looking back, Shadow was motioning down another hall. Niffty ran back to the entity to see what she’d missed. But when she gets there, she sees nothing of note. She glances at the shadow on the wall and then hears it. Ever so faintly. Music. The little demon tiptoed carefully towards the sound, wondering who else in the hotel would be up and about at such an hour. And playing music? What instrument is that? It sounds familiar… When she finally reached the source of the sound, she and Shadow both peeked around the edge of the doorway, into the room that Lucifer and Alastor had recently cleared out. Is that…? She suddenly realized where she had heard the instrument before. That first time the king came to the hotel… He fought with Alastor and played this thing.

Realizing that the fallen angel was facing away from the door, the two watched a moment longer. The maid took note of the shiny, golden instrument Lucifer held as he played a sweet tune. Niffty and Shadow share a moment’s glance before silently backing away from the room, leaving Lucifer to play his music in peace.

[film-in-my-soul]

One Glimpse of Relief | 909 | dalearden / @dale-arden

Summary: Yet from the moment he took Jake into his bed, Bradley knew something had changed. There had been a shift in the atmosphere, a force feeling like some kind of gravitational pull, guiding him. The knowledge he was always meant to wind up here is an awesome weight on his heart and Bradley allows it to crush him, the power of it not even a little painful like he fears it should be.

twist the knife (salt in my cuts) | 1,313 | ropememory

Summary: Bradley ignores Jake, traces a finger along the outline of a rib on Jake’s chest. When he speaks, it’s low and hoarse, more a byproduct of what’s going on in his head than disuse. “I want to try it. Tonight.” Swallowing, Bradley meets Jake’s confused look, shys back a little in response without giving up any of his leverage over Jake’s body.  Processing Bradley’s words shouldn’t be this hard, they’ve barely started doing anything and Jake’s frustratingly still got all his wits about him, but there’s a long list of things they’ve talked about trying over the past few months, and Jake’s at a loss to pinpoint the specific one Bradley’s talking about.

taste of eternity | 1,415 | res_judicata / @res-judicatas

Summary: "Jake, I was thinking about you when I thought it was all over." "Why the fuck would you say that," Jake wants to scream and cry. Because Bradley talks a big game, but of the two of them, he's the one who flies like he's got nothing to lose. Between his mother and dad... every time they take to the air, Bradley is the one who Jake thinks is really suspended between the sky and the ground. The one who belongs to both. The one who they should be worried about not coming back down. 

looked into your eyes (saw a world that doesn't exist) | 1,480 | ropememory

Summary: Jake glares up at Bradley. “I’m only doing this to show you I am the best. And to haunt your fucking dreams, because it’s never happening again.”

Haven't you herd, I rather love you | 1,578 | Fuddlewuddle / @fuddlewuddle

Summary: Bradley knows Jake loves him, he just never expected the man to arrange a herd of cows into the shape of a heart for him. Being honest, he probably should've done.

take my soul (wipe it clean) | 1,659 | crueltether

Summary: “You wanna come by for a drink?” Bradley asks. His question is innocent enough, but he’s also already opening the passenger door of his Bronco. Jake rolls his eyes. “I dunno,” he says, but he’s tossing his bag onto the floorboards and getting in. “I might.” Bradley hums. “Okay, Texas. You think it over. I’ll drive.”

The Better Wingman | 1,871 | Cat2000

Summary: Set after the events of Top Gun: Maverick. Rooster and Hangman figure things out

Please see below for more recommendations!

fly me home | 2,136 | vannral / @vannral

Summary: “You look good, Rooster,” Jake manages to rasp out and Bradley can hear how much his voice is fraying, carving down to the very bare core of it all. In which Jake and Bradley immediately act on their feelings after landing on the carrier. Involves flirting and sex and doing things in the wrong order but mostly reassurance.

you got me (fucked up) | 2,318 | cloudburst

Summary: “You lookin’ to stay behind me, Rooster? If you’re staring at my ass, you’ve just gotta ask,” he says to him, turns around from where they’re running laps, punishment for arguing in the first place. He loves to rile him up, make him verbalize his frustrations. Hangman–because it’s Hangman, now, stopped being Jake a long time ago–doesn’t always mean to flirt with him, condescend to him in the same breath but when he does it sure is fun. Bradshaw’s breathing a little heavier, maybe, but cuts him off anyways. “As if. You wish.”

The mandatory 5+1 fic | 2,610 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: 5 times Rooster thinks there might be something between him and Hangman; and 1 time he knows for sure.

Everything's Waiting For You (Downtown) | 2,692 | xo_em / @jakeseresins

Summary: When Bradley’s breath catches, in a way it hasn’t in literal years of bartending, he’s a tad shaken.

white picket fence | 2,938 | res_judicata / @res-judicatas

Summary: Whenever anyone from the kids’ school asks, Jake always just smiles politely and explains that his husband works for a big international company and that’s why he’s overseas a lot.  He doesn’t say that Bradley is arguably the ‘director’ of said company, nor that the ‘company’ in question is the Mafia. He knows a few of the other parents have their suspicions and that he and Bradley are the subject of their fair share of rumours and gossip. Jake just doesn’t let it get to him, he has his beautiful family and gorgeous husband, the nosy PTA mothers can go fuck themselves. For every, oh my, how can your husband bear to leave such a lovely husband at home with the kids for so many months of the year, Jake can read between the lines.

Honey-coloured Ramparts at Your Ear | 3,270 | xo_em / @jakeseresins

Summary: “You know he loves you, right?” Jake sucks in a breath. “The color of your hair’s got nothing to do with it.” And well, it sounds really idiotic once Javy says it out loud.

the machine of a dream | 3,937 | thereisnocowboyemoji

Summary: Jake reads Bradley like he’s his favorite book and Bradley loves that. He does. But. He doesn’t love it right at this particular moment. Because right at this particular moment he’s trying to keep a very big secret and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to pull it off.

The Christmas Bob outdid himself | 4,090 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: Bob organizes a Secret Santa among the squad. Jake's nervous, because he's never had to gift anyone anything before. He's even more scared when faced with the gifts he receives. He shouldn't be either of those things...

sour apple baby (you taste so sweet) | 4,600 | attolians / @maroonmorons

Summary: Bradley and Jake became friends with benefits...but neither of them know how to do it right.

you drew stars around my scars | 4,761 | ginnydear

Summary: “I can’t… I can’t do this if it’s going to be like the last time.”

softest hands to hold you | 5,231 | ginnydear

Summary: “You aren’t the first person to think I’m pathetic and weak, something to be used and not loved.”

Four Letter Word That I Don't Have the Guts to Say | 5,444 | Earthangel_44 / @yikes-00

Summary: Bradley doesn't talk much. But what he does say is never what he means. The story of how Bradley gets tattoos and learns to love.

time and time again | 6,318 | andthentheybow / @andthentheybow

Summary: Rooster wakes up on the third April 22nd in a row covered in phantom explosion burns and with the concrete knowledge that this mission is going to go terribly, horribly wrong.

Don't leave me, please | 6,357 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: When Jake learns that Rooster's plane went down and he may not make it, he goes into shock. Then he decides that he WON'T let Bradley Bradshaw bail on him. No matter what he needs to do to make sure he wakes up...

Like They Do in Texas Please | 6,506 | Renai_chan

Summary: The team play strip poker. Jake is not good at it.

The Exes of Texas Are Upon You | 7,047 | chase_acow / @cowsalot

Summary: While trying to enjoy their day off, a bet comes back to haunt Hangman forcing Rooster into a tight spot.

fever started a long ago | 8,020 | vannral / @vannral

Summary: 'Okay, Bradley has to admit, this wasn’t one of his brightest ideas. He should’ve stayed home, taken some ibuprofen and just sucked it up and passed out but no. He had to push it. And here he is, dealing with the consequences of his own stupidity.' In which Bradley gets sick, Jake gets jealous of a guy at the bar and takes care of Bradley. They’re both pining for each other and are even worse at hiding it.

miles to go | 8,566 | Notchka88

Summary: Truth be told, Bradley hadn’t been expecting to be team leader. Given Maverick’s continued criticism of his flying and the shit Bradley had said to him—it had startled him to be Maverick’s choice. It had startled Hangman too, judging by the way his jaw had tightened and how he’d looked away, avoiding Bradley’s eyes during the briefing. Bradley should have been ready for Hangman’s reaction after everything that had happened between them, but it had still stung.

for the fatherless | 8,729 | Bartonfink

Summary: a fic about family. and maybe a little about falling in love.

Burned on the back of your eyelids | 12,883 | The_Splendid_Wren

Summary: They say when you're near death your life flashes before your eyes and he's had a long, complicated life. The first time he remembers trying to etch a memory on the back of his eyelids he's eight years old. His mom uncovers the piano in the living room and begins tapping at the keys, the notes to a song he's long since forgotten echoing around the living room. He can hear the melody as the wind whips past his ears and the wreckage of his plane crashes far below on the ice mountain side.

you hang me up, unfinished (with the better part of me no longer mine) | 13,140 | un_familiar

Summary: There are a million things standing between Jake Seresin and his soulmate–gender, Jake’s tendency to overthink and run his mouth, the fact that his soulmark is high up on his ribs, hidden, the bruises his dad leaves, but the biggest one is probably the simple fact that he has no idea how to love.

And You Said That I Was Done (Well, You Were Wrong) | 14,228 | lemons2llamas

Summary: It’s not supposed to be like this. Lt. Jake Seresin, call sign Hangman, is a Naval aviator. One of the elite. He's the youngest winner of the Top Gun trophy since its inception, holds six course records, and is the team leader of the now permanently established Dagger Squadron. He’s young. He’s in his prime. He’s supposed to be invincible.

Callsign: Rooster | 14,649 | Valkyrie_the_Bogwitch

Summary: Callsigns are a tricky business, both ultimate weakness and greatest strength. These are some loosely connected vignettes around how Rooster earned his feathers, for the good and the ill of it.

soar with me | 14,899 | vannral / @vannral

Summary: ”You – so what was it, you were trying to help me or something?” Bradley stammers, his whole perspective reeling off its axis at the revelation. Jake looks up, and his eyes are piercing, but there’s something raw, vulnerable underneath it."

one foot left, and then we're going down swinging | 15,944 | SaintClaire / @radpeacharbiter

Summary: “I’m still here.” he says, because it helps Bradley to be reminded sometimes. For all he’ll mouth off about Jake never shutting up, the sound of Jake’s voice can get him to drop the rigid set of his shoulders and relax, sit a little easier in the cockpit. “Still on your wing, Roo, just a little further away than normal.” Jake gets shot down on a mission, tracker blown to smithereens and on his own in enemy territory. The thing about Hangman is that he might be a damn good pilot but that means he comes with the bloody-mindedness to see his shit through. He's got a family to get back to.

unsportsmanlike conduct | 16,871 | ginnydear

Summary: He didn’t expect there to be highlight reels of him and Jake Seresin arguing and jawing at each other after their first game against each other. His Uncle Mav’s recorded it, saying it’s the beginning of his long, successful career - to have a rival. Bradley thinks it’s a pain in the ass.

When Jake Met Bradley | 17,163 | infinitejaust

Summary: They annoyed each other, then they were friends, and then they were more. All it took was fifteen years.

A girl, she once told me I'd be happy again… | 17,777 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: Rooster has gotten himself into a bit of a predicament. If only because he agreed to be Hangman's fake date at his sister's wedding, when they've just barely started considering each other friends. Nothing can go wrong, right?

I need attention (and I need it all from you) | 19,291 | haridwar

Summary: “Mom and I agreed I wasn’t gonna enlist Mav.” Bradley had been reluctant to remind him while also trying not to sound too heartbroken. He didn’t want his mother feeling guiltier than she already did when there were more important things to be thinking about. “You promised your mom you wouldn’t fly, that you wouldn’t be a fighter pilot. There’s so much more to the navy than just that kiddo.”

The Best the Galaxy has to offer | 20,141 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: To vanquish the Empire and hopefully put an end to the War, the best X-wings pilots in the Galaxy are called to the mother ship Top Gun. Among them, Bradley Bradshaw, who has a lot to learn and a lot to face; but also a squadron of former Stormtroopers…

I used to hate you | 21,707 | AnadoraBlack / @anadorablack

Summary: When Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin first meet at Top Gun, they immediately decide that they hate each other. It takes a looooooong time for that to change...

How do you like your coffee? | 23,360 | WaffleToaster

Summary: Javy receives the first call after Jake makes an emergency landing on the tarmac and Bradley has to deal with the complications that arise. “Do we get along now?” “We do, yes. We’re.. good friends.” “That’s good. Cause you seem like a nice guy, Rooster.”

invisible string | 28,042 | ok_thanks / @galchenyuks

Summary: Jake being traded to San Diego should definitely not cause Bradley to feel so unhinged. Not at all. He can be teammates, they've done that before, except that Jake is just as annoying and attractive to Bradley as he was when they were younger.

Dirty and Sweet (Get it on) | 38,451 | MadeItUp / @gothampot

Summary: As things wind down after the mission, Rooster struggles with a need for something a little dangerous. That something absolutely should not – cannot – be Jake Seresin. But a little friendly competition and a lot of alcohol can go a long way to changing a man's mind. Hangman eyes Rooster’s empty beer, then his own. “How about that second shot?” “You tryna put me off my game?” “I don’t need you drunk to beat you, Rooster.” “What do you need me drunk for?”

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

[shocked-collar]

Voicemail

self-indulgent fic describing my personal favorite scene between my BTD fan-babies...... without context cause this is for me and i dont think anyone else will be reading OOPS SORRY!

----------

The sound of sneakers thumping against the pavement and tapping on a phone screen are the only sounds for what seems like miles. Again and again he has tried to call that fox for help, listening to the line ring, and ring, and ring, and go to voicemail. A habit of his he's promised to break, but... promises can be broken as easily as bones these days. After the fifth appearance of the voicemail the phone was frustratingly stowed away into the mans back pocket, putting all further energy into his escape, since apparently he has no backup.

Panicked eyes of German and ████████ descent take a chance to look backwards down the way he came, noting a thin, slow-moving figure following calmly behind from a distance. His heart shot through his chest and he continued to sprint, frantically glancing to the first, the second, the third chance he had to duck into cover down a short alley entrance. He was surprised to see it reached far and wide from the inside- perfect!

The man picked a random direction and took it, finding some old scraps and garbage cans to nestle in between. This is where his sniffles are attempted to be calmed, glancing down in both sick-fright and horror, seeing his hand painted in red. He couldn't look for long.

This is Benjamin. Or, affectionately, Benny. The spawn of something evil, nurtured into something delicate. Delicate in a world where delicate is not allowed to exist. Delicate in a world where sins of the father can manifest in a way such as this.

A beautiful thing- that's the person following him. Kveta, no last name needed. She isn't under the same conditions of 'sins of the father', because she is the sin. Though, she'd like to believe she's more of the consequence... A little thing left all alone in a world so cruel and brash, a little thing left without extended arms to lift her from the waters, and she's seen not another pair since they were brutally torn from her years ago. The only thing she remembers? 'I'm going out.', 'I'm meeting a friend.', and a picture; a picture of some... cute cat person, or something.

She has nothing against Benny. In fact, she feels terrible for him. The look on his face, the sound he made... it's heart-breaking. But this is the only punishment suitable for the crime in her mind. Whoever that fucking thing is, who she is now comfortable titling Ren, or Fox, took the only person who ever loved her far away from this world. She doesn't hate Benny. She likes him, actually. But she can't imagine a world in which that animal is loved by anyone but his son.

So here we are. A slow-burn, silent face-to-face. Fucker's fast, she didn't account for that- but she got a good two blows with her concealed screwdriver, made two deep wounds he is now struggling to ease.

Benny holds his breath as he hears the scraping of shoes. She's close... The fear was paralyzing! He's never been in a situation like this, or even many situations involving pain or blood at all! As ironic as it is, despite his size advantage over her, if he were to jump her, though he could overpower her, he doesn't have the slightest idea of how to or where to start! The seed of B3G_CRY doesn't have a violent bone in his fucking body!!! He audibly winced, looking down to examine his wounds.

He's got a hole straight through his left hand and a much more severe pierce on the lower left on his stomach. He can't remember which one came first, he can't remember a lot- this is a lot. Paying closer attention to his side, Benny released a pained whimper while raising his hand from the wound, watching all the blood spill over. There's so much blood... There's..

...The footsteps are gone.

Benny's eyes shot up just in time to make direct contact with those pretty green ones, being unable to scoot-and-crawl away before she lunged through the trash cans. Loud bangs as metal went tumbling, loud cries as Benny tried avoiding further harm, and silence as Kveta forced herself to move. Like a shot, she felt the flesh tear as she stabbed the younger man once again, hearing him howl at the new wound on his back. Her other hand gripped his clothes to keep him close, taking another shot- luckily missing this time.

"Hold still!!"

"Ple'gh-! Please, Veta, please!"

"HOLD STILL!!"

They were struggling. It happened in a blind flash, it happened so fast- he didn't even mean to! Next thing he knew, Kveta was stumbling back holding her bloody nose. He kicked her... He kicked her in the face, and in some crazy, mental-conditioning kind of way, he felt bad. For a moment, he felt bad. ...He took this chance to flee.

Quickly but weakly his tired limbs carried him to his feet, once again picking a random direction in this long, confusing maze of alleys and garbage. His hand, the one without the hole, retrieved his phone once again, shaking beyond belief as he tried that foxes number again. His fathers number again. The first number that should pick up. ...And never does.

Voicemail tone. Again.

He tried again.

Voicemail.

He's whimpering, and panting, and things are getting bad. Benny looked behind himself, and though he didn't see Kveta, he saw the trail below his feet leading her straight to him. Slipping through an alley that leads back to the main road and out of the maze, a wave of blur and nausea hit him, feeling like the world is tilting as he fought to stay on his feet, feeling like something invisible was pulling or guiding him. Benny wasn't even sure of the noises he was releasing. He was just... groaning, moaning as he stumbled through the empty streets, going to no particular place. Just somewhere safe.

That's not for a few miles.

Panic was reignited in him as, from somewhere behind him, he heard activity. He tried running, but it was messy and sloppy and weak. He glanced to his phone and tried calling again- voicemail. Was it immediate? Did it have time to ring? Benny can't remember. He tried again.

He turned his eyes to the floor just in time to see a shadow approaching his own.

Voicemail.

[audioeidolon]

In your LSoW series would Leo ever want to get a summer job as a Life Guard? Outside of him being a turtle that can already swim well, he seems pretty knowledgeable in medical things. So I'm assuming he would know how to tend to cuts and bruises along with knowing CPR

Oh wow what a good idea! I might steal this lol. I can see it playing out as maybe Leo does it because he genuinely likes it, but it gets a little twisted into a publicity stunt by the press and social media. So he does it for a season and makes all the right statements about loving it, letting people take photos, etc. But. He might lose his taste for it a little and only do it for a season because of the attention. (Leo likes to weaponize attention/publicity, but when it invades genuine personal things it kind of stings.)

(Kind of a long tangent coming up here as well- sorry in advance!)

Fun fact- my Leo is in no way the (sole) medic! I never really bought into that fancanon, as fun as it is to think about. All the turtles have an equal amount of first aid knowledge in LSoW, which is to say a LOT when you are a giant sentient turtle unwilling to get the government involved. I mentioned the turtles medical bracelets a couple of times in 'Raph Joins the Team', and 'Locker'- they all have one. They mostly say things like, DO NOT give any kind of treatment without consultation with: and then a list of names of their doctors, Sal, Yoshi, and a (secret) last person. This is in case (as most medical bracelets are) they're unconscious for whatever reason, or can't speak to medical help. All of their medical records come home with them after appointments, and the way they store it is INCREDIBLY secure. I looked into how legal that would be in the state of New York, but from what I gather given their special situation I'm sure the director of whatever hospital they mainly have their appointments at would get them special consideration etc. This still means samples and stuff get out a little bit, and Bishop has collected SOME information on them medically. But as noted in 'Knight Takes Bishop' it's frustratingly little. (And less now that Donnie has a say lmao.)

Dr. Carter is in this series a lot, but Dr. Heo is doing a lot of work behind the scenes. She's the one that figures out their medication, allergies- everything from the lotion they use, to the vitamins they take, to what kind of anesthetic they used on Raph in '25 cents'. That took a TEAM of anesthesiologists on standby that Raph didn't know about, because he's EIGHT lmao. It was also a trial run, in case they ever DID have to do surgery on the turtles. Dr. Heo wanted to know for a FACT what wouldn't kill them, and Dr. Carter performed the procedure to monitor. Also to lend his expertise, because the dentists were understandably terrified of losing a finger lmao.

(Hm. I wonder what kind of events coming up might call for surgery on a turtle...)

[demystifiedstardust]

Dream log 2

Okay, to be fair, I've been taunting fate on this one for a while. The fact that it took literally over 3 years to happen is a little weird, though. Bumping this up the queue because dream log.

Readmore for length and possibly disturbing dreamlike situations.

The start of the dream was me as Aether exploring an abstract Khaenri'ah-ish realm (not unlike the final layer of Nahida I quest dream but featuring deep blues and magentas). I was with Mona, Arle, and Klee. It's an unusual combination and I honestly think this posse was just grabbed randomly from my subconscious, because this layer was very definitely not real. It had a dreamlike aura about it that was gradually stripped away as the dream progressed. We found a form-fitting bracelet-ring at some point. I instinctively gave it to Klee, although I shouldn't have according to the others. I had picked up its pair previously before the dream started. I think my logic was the other two could protect themselves, but they seemed to work like a signaling device and I wanted a beacon to her in case she needed help. The other two argued the rings' properties were poorly understood, but it wouldn't come off, so that was that.

We found a portal at one point and collectively understood it to be a great trial to be undertaken alone. From that point on, every time the scene shifted it would become more and more "real". It's ah, hard to explain. The portal spat me out in the house of a man. He lived alone and seemed happy to take care of me (I had become a child), but it eventually became apparent that this was a Toriel-situation where I had to escape if I was to complete the trial. I stole his car, but he had a motorcycle unbeknownst to me and would rubber-band to me and take me back when he caught up. Not sure if it was cheekiness or frustration, but after a few loops of this I simply crashed the car into the snowy mountain this guy lived by and killed myself.

I honestly expected the loop to reset normally after that, but it didn't. Now Lumine was in the place of where I was, and I was... incorporeal? I could do frustratingly little to make her realize that this was only a trial. The most I could do was move certain "set pieces" around and cause the man to scramble around to try and fix it before she put the pieces together. This incorporeality wasn't particularly distressing as this is how my dreams often are, but Lumine being the one I needed to help did make it stressful. She eventually figured it out and also left, albeit in a more sneaky manner than I, and with her trial complete, the scene changed again.

It was the past. We were together. We were pulling together pieces of the world that belonged together, creating reunions in star-crossed reincarnated lovers, and more worldly changes along those lines, and it was beautiful. But there was a faction of powers that be that did not appreciate our meddling in their perfectly ordered world (which very much wasn't from my (our, I assume) point of view. It was sterile and full of setting up everything in little isolated boxes (metaphorically speaking, not invoking the unknown god here) where people and things that should meet never would. It was painless, but also devoid of all positive emotions as well. But I digress).

They would try to catch us, and we would have to get sneakier. Hiding the chaos within the order. Like (metaphorically) an elaborate set of dominos that would require but a push for everything to change, and we would be long into hiding before we got to enjoy the conclusion, but that was okay. This domino effect also included a lot of death, so um, in retrospect I can see that there was a lot of pain along with the joy we brought. Although we couldn't resist hiding nearby at a vantage point sometimes to observe our handiwork, and that's how we were eventually caught.

The scene shifted and we were no longer wearing a social "skin" to remain in the ordered world, but were instead stripped away into our pure forms. If you have played or seen Omori, it was a little like Something. An amorphous void of shifting color that multiplied into itself to form a mass quite dark at the core and colorful around the edges, that stretched along and strung out somewhat as we moved. We each had a single eye.

The "ordered" retained their worldly forms, however, and there were three different classes of them with different abilities that worked in tandem to catch us, restrain us, and change us into a neutered threat.

We were sewn together by order into a gold plush-like form, sort of pokey like a many-tailed fox or starfish. I was chosen arbitrarily to be sewn into the 'eye' lobe and became the only one who could "see". Lumine was sewn into the 'core' lobe. She was capable of thinking and moving, but could only see me. Order also sewed a third part, a golden, ordered "skin" to bind us together that also had a personality separate from either of us.

And then I woke up. Now I'm back and I feel like I peeled back a layer of the universe's skin and got a peek at underneath before being shunted back into the waking world. Took a while to readjust. Would you believe me if I said I don't do drugs? Please believe me 😭

Illustration available on request but idk if I feel like posting it publicly right now.