#and my boss was like. unnecessarily rude to me on the phone when i explained it to her

[just-spacetrash]

ughhhhhhhh

[octbrsaturn]

REPENT - ARVIN RUSSELL PART 4

a/n: hello :) part four is finally up! this chapter is definitely not the best i’ve written, but y’all deserve something. thank you for being so patient with me! i hope you enjoy

warnings: creepy bosses, creepy pastors

GIF USED DOES NOT BELONG TO ME !!!

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The week went by quickly. It became a normal schedule -- Y/N had cheer practice until three o'clock, Arvin would pick her up then and take her straight to work. Recently, Ralph had been making Y/N work longer hours, which meant that she'd have to stay at work until eight or nine instead of seven. Then, Arvin would either drive to either her house or his house, let her take a shower, and fall asleep.

Y/N was exhausted. It was pretty obvious. She barely spoke (besides something small like 'mhm' or 'uh-huh'), she barely ate, and her grades were starting to slip.

Arvin looked over at Y/N, who's eyes were closed with her head leaning against the window. Arvin tried his hardest not to hit any bumps on the way to the diner, but every few minutes, he'd accidentally run over a pothole and cause Y/N's eyes to softly flutter open.

"Sorry," Arvin muttered quietly, glancing at his girl. He felt so terrible for her, wishing she didn’t have to work this hard. He wanted to walk into that damned diner, tell her weird boss that Y/N quit, and drive somewhere far away. But he knew that this was not a possibility, and that only made him feel worse.

"S'okay," Y/N whispered, keeping her eyes open as she realized that Arvin was getting closer to the diner. She sighed, wishing she could have just five more minutes to rest.

Arvin came to a stop at the diner as he usually did. Once he put the car in park, he looked at Y/N. "We're here."

Y/N nodded and sat up. A yawn came up in her throat, but she pushed it back down. She knew yawning would only make her feel more tired. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Arvin replied. His heart broke for Y/N. "Don't work yourself too hard, okay? I'll be here at eight-thirty. Promise.”

Y/N scoffed. "I'll try." She leaned forward and kissed Arvin's lips. She turned to get out, but before she could, Arvin grabbed her wrist. Y/N turned back to Arvin, her tired eyes focused on his.

Arvin sighed, feeling worse and worse for the girl. "I love you,"

Y/N gave the boy a soft smile. "I love you too."

Of course, Y/N's day was by far the hardest. Every customer she had was rude to her, she barely got any tips, and Ralph still had her scrubbing on that same damn grease spot that Y/N was pretty sure had been there for years.

Thankfully, it was Friday. Y/N could finish up her work, Arvin would pick her up, and they would spend the whole weekend together. That was currently the only thing keeping Y/N going, the thought of taking the weekend off without work or school and just being with Arvin and Lenora.

Another thing that made Y/N hopeful was that she'd finally made contact with her dad. She'd called him from the diner phone during her break about three times before he finally answered, with a gruff, "Hello."

"Dad?" Y/N almost whispered, just realizing how long it'd been without hearing her father's voice. When William Lewis didn't reply, Y/N continued, her voice shaking slightly. "Everything alright?"

William sighed. "Everything's alright, baby. I'm just sittin' 'round, writin' a few words."

This made Y/N's heart light up slightly. "You're writin'?"

"Oh, yeah," William answered, the joy that Y/N used to hear in his voice as a kid starting to come back. "I've written a few pages. It's not as fast as I used to be able to, but I'm getting there."

Y/N felt her mouth turn up into a smile. "That's alright, daddy. Better than nothin'."

"You've got that right, baby."

Y/N was silent for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts. Maybe her dad was finally out of the rut that he'd been in for years. For so long, her father had kept himself in his room, barely eating, barely talking, and refusing to write. When Marie died, he'd tried so hard to come off as 'strong' and 'collected', but the refusal to talk about his feelings eventually sent him into a depressed state. He'd refuse to talk to anyone, even Y/N, and he wouldn't even consider looking at a type-writer.

But now it seemed like maybe he was finally out of it.

"I'm gonna be spendin' the night with the Russells tonight," Y/N said softly.

"Sounds good to me, baby," William answered. "Be good for Ms. Russell, ya hear?"

"Of course," Y/N almost laughed. She just couldn't contain how happy she was that she was finally getting her father back. "I'll see you later. Love you."

"I love you too," William replied before hanging up the phone.

The rest of the night seemed to go differently for Y/N. The customers seemed nicer (though they were still considered rude, they didn't call her racially motivated names as much as they used to), Ralph mostly left her alone (of course besides the lewd stares at her legs and chest, but Y/N was used to that it this point), and the night seemed to go by much faster.

Eventually, eight-thirty rolled around. Y/N looked out to see Arvin's baby blue Bel-Air pulled up, the wind-shield wipers violently running back and forth against the wind-shield. Y/N made her way to the back of the diner and took off her apron. That feeling was definitely one of the best ones -- taking off her apron and hanging it up. Soon, she'd be able to take off her stupid blue waitress dress and her stupid hat and her stupid shoes and change into more comfortable clothes. Soon she'd get to stay up all night talking with Lenora and Arvin until she fell asleep and not have to wake up early the next day.

"Headin' out, Y/N?" A gruff voice asked as Y/N put away her apron. Y/N recognized the voice immediately. She felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"Oh, yes sir, Mr. Alby," Y/N replied, smiling at her boss but already starting to feel uncomfortable. The advances that he'd been making recently were starting to get worse. It started with the weird looks -- glancing at Y/N's chest whenever he thought she wasn't looking. Looking at her legs as she sat down or stood up. Then it moved onto a more physical approach -- touching her shoulder whenever he spoke with her. Kissing her cheek randomly. Unnecessarily grabbing onto her waist as he walked by. Each and every advance made Y/N more uncomfortable than the last. But she needed this job. She didn't know of anyone else who would give her a chance like this.

So Y/N just had to deal with it.

Unfortunately, this meant a lot of weird hugs from her boss. 

Ralph nodded. “Well, have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday, right?”

Y/N smiled. “Yes sir.”

She watched as Ralph’s arms opened, knowing this meant he wanted another one of his weird hugs that Y/N despised giving. Y/N stepped closer, loosely wrapping her arms around Ralph’s shoulders for an uncomfortable hug.

After a second, she could feel Ralph's hand starting to slide down her back, getting closer and closer to somewhere that she definitely did not want his hand to be. Y/N felt herself start to pull away from the hug, but Ralph's grip on her wouldn't loosen. Y/N's heart began to beat harder as she tried to push herself away. But Ralph was relentless. His hand was now just getting to the small of her back, and only gripping harder as his hands almost reached their destination.

But before he could get there, Y/N heard the familiar ding of the door opening. Y/N looked through the small window the opened into the diner and saw Arvin standing there, wet from the rain. His dark gray shirt was almost black now from the heavy rain. His hair was curlier than usual and dripped water onto the floor. Y/N could see Arvin looking around, probably wondering where Y/N was.

Ralph looked over to see who had walked in, distracted for just a moment. Y/N pulled away from her boss and walked towards the front of the diner, giving him one last 'goodbye' and going to Arvin. She strutted towards Arvin, watching as his face lit up at the sight of her.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, grabbing onto Arvin's hand and pulling him out of the diner. The two jogged towards the car, trying to stay as dry as possible. Arvin opened the passenger's side door for Y/N and waited for her to climb in.

A part of Y/N was happy that her boyfriend came in and practically saved her from her boss, but the other side was nervous. All of those white people eating their food just witnessed a colored girl and a white boy holding hands and leaving a diner together. Things like that tended to make them nervous, and when they were nervous, they tend to make assumptions. And a lot of the time, assumptions get someone killed. Sure, it was none of their business, but that's never stopped anyone before.

"I got worried," Arvin explained, shutting the door and jogging to the other side. He got in and slammed the door shut beside him. "You were takin' longer than usual."

"Sorry," Y/N apologized. "My boss was talkin' to me."

"It's alright," Arvin began driving to his house. "Just makin' sure."

Back at the Russell house, Arvin pulled up as close to the house as he could, since the rain hadn't let up for even a second. He and Y/N opened their doors, laughing lightly as they ran straight to the house and onto the porch. Before Y/N could open the door, Arvin grabbed onto her wrist to stop her. "Hold on just a second."

Y/N turned with a confused look. "Everything alright?"

"I just," Arvin sighed, his grip not faltering from Y/N's wrist. Y/N waited patiently for Arvin to continue. She knew how hard it was for him to speak his feelings.

Arvin stuck his tongue out between his lips, wetting them slightly. He needed a cigarette.

"I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you," Arvin said slowly, looking right into Y/N's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, moving her hand from Arvin's hold, but quickly taking his hand in hers instead. Her thumb gently rubbed the back of his hand.

"I'm just proud of you. For gettin' a job, holdin' your own. And for still doin' great in school and being on the cheerleadin' team. I know workin' at that diner ain't the most fun job in the world, and I can see how tired you've been. But I'm still proud of you." Arvin shrugged. "That's all."

Y/N felt as if her heart both rose and sank.

Y/N did hate her job. She hated the customers, she hated (most) of her coworkers, she hated her boss. She hated taking orders and taking their food out. She hated having piping hot coffee "accidentally" spilled on her nearly every day. She wanted so badly to just quit and pray that maybe a different, better run diner would hire her.

But now she couldn't. Not when Arvin just told her how proud he was of her for not giving up.

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend, thanking him. He nodded and bent down, moving his hand to the back of Y/N's head and gently kissing her forehead. Next, he leaned closer and kissed her lips softly. Arvin loved the feeling of Y/N’s lips. They were always so soft. He loved the way Y/N’s hand would always grab onto his waist to hold onto, almost like if she didn’t grab onto him she would fall over. Like he was the only person that could hold her up. Kissing Y/N had to be one of Arvin’s favorite things. 

After he pulled away, he nodded towards the door, gesturing that they could go inside now.

As she opened the door, Y/N and Arvin were bombarded with the strong scent of fried chicken. Y/N gave Arvin a confused look, which he returned to her. Arvin, whose hand hadn't moved from Y/N's waist, looked around for his grandmother, uncle, and step-sister.

"Gran'ma?" Arvin called out but was interrupted by many voices laughing from the kitchen.

"Oh! Arvin, honey, we're in here!" Emma called out from the dining room. Arvin and Y/N made their way to the dining room to see the rest of the Russells sitting around the table, eating. Y/N's eyes flickered around the table. She saw Emma, Earksell, Lenora, and ...

And Pastor Teagardin and his wife.

"Come sit with us, you two!" Emma smiled, gesturing for Y/N and Arvin to sit. Y/N and Arvin did so, Arvin pulling out a chair for Y/N to sit and pushing it in once she took her seat beside Lenora. He rounded the chair and sat beside her, his hand immediately landing on her thigh and rubbing the skin softly for a moment, to calm her. He could tell immediately that Y/N wasn’t comfortable with pastor Teagardin being there.

"What's goin' on?" Arvin asked, referring to the Teagardins who had never seemed interested enough to visit the Russells before now.

"Well, Pastor Teagardin and his wife decided to stop by and have dinner with us," Emma said happily. "Ain't that so sweet of them?"

"So sweet," Arvin muttered under his breath, grabbing a plate and getting some food. He must've been too worried about Y/N not getting too wet outside to notice that another car had been parked in front of the house.

Y/N also grabbed a plate and got some chicken, collard greens, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a roll. Sure, she was nervous, but she was still starved. As the dinner went on, she stayed almost completely silent the whole time, just eating her food and waiting for this night to be over.

"So, Y/N," Pastor Teagardin spoke, looking at the opposite end of the table where Y/N had just taken a bite out of her potatoes. Y/N could feel Arvin stiffen beside her, but she grabbed onto his hand to hopefully calm him. Y/N looked over at the pastor, waiting for him to continue. "Emma tells me you're workin' at the diner down the road."

Y/N nodded politely, swallowing her food, and taking a sip of her sweet tea. "Yes, sir."

"How do you like it?" Teagardin asked, watching the girl closely.

Y/N almost gulped. "I like it real well, sir. The pay is pretty good, and every so often I get a good tip."

Teagardin nodded. "That's good. You doin' alright at school?"

Y/N shrugged. "I'm doin' okay. Between school, cheer, and work, it can get to be a lot."

Pastor Teagardin nodded in understanding. "The Lord said, 'Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.' Philippians chapter four, verse six."

Y/N didn't know what to say to that. She nodded and took another bite of her mashed potatoes and gravy.

"What about y'all's relationship?" Teagardin continued, causing Arvin to start choking on his greens.

Y/N closed her eyes and sighed, wishing this night could be over. Once Arvin was able to breathe again, he looked up at the pastor and muttered out, "Sorry?"

"The Lord also said, 'Flee from sexual immorality. Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body.' First Corinthians, chapter six, verses eighteen through twenty." Teagardin said, glancing over at Emma, who looked like she was about to faint right there.

Arvin didn't want to make this night worse. He really didn't. He wanted to finish up their dinner, scoop Y/N into his arms, and fall asleep on his bed. He wanted to wake up in the middle of the day tomorrow and take her on a picnic somewhere in a grassy valley, maybe even take another nap there too. He did not want to fan the flame that was Pastor Teagardin.

But he just couldn't help himself.

"Are you implyin' that me and Y/N have been sexually immoral?" Arvin asked, sitting up in his chair a little bit. Y/N could already see his face beginning to redden with anger. She wanted so badly to get up, grab Arvin, and lock them in his room for the rest of the night. But she sat in her seat with her head down, playing with her food.

"Arvin," Emma gently whispered, but Arvin ignored her, not looking away from the pastor.

"I'm not tryin' to imply anything," Teagardin shook his head, looking between Arvin and Y/N. He noticed how different the two were, besides physical. Arvin was fully sat up, arms crossed and staring deeply into his soul. Y/N, on the other hand, hadn't looked away from her plate. He did notice, however, that while one hand was playing with her food, the other was under the table and probably resting on Arvin's lap. "I'm simply statin' that y'all two better be careful."

"Why should we be careful?" Arvin didn't back down.

"Next time I may not be the one catchin' y'all in the backseat of your car, is all I'm sayin'." Teagardin said lowly, causing Emma to gasp quietly from her seat.

Arvin could only feel his heartbeat quickening. "Y'know, that reminds me," He cocked his head to the side, his eyes never leaving the pastor. "Why were you out there that night? What were you doin'?"

This question seemed to take the pastor by surprise. He swallowed thickly and looked around the room, noticing that everyone (including Y/N and his own wife) had their eyes on him, waiting for an answer.

Y/N had also been wondering the answer to this question. She found it a little odd that he happened to be driving around that late at night and decided to stop and talk to the two teenagers. She was eager to hear his side of the story.

"I was just ... " Teagardin started slowly. "I was just takin' a drive, is all."

Arvin hummed in fake understanding. "Takin' a drive that late at night? Sounds a little suspicious to me, sir."

"Arv," Y/N whispered harshly, squeezing his thigh gently, but Arvin couldn't stop. Pastor Teagardin talking about his and Y/N's relationship only fueled Arvin's anger. Teagardin knew nothing about those two. He was just some guy from Tennessee who thought because he was a pastor that he had to know everything about everyone. And Arvin was definitely the type of person who liked his privacy.

"What are you sayin' boy?" Teagardin nearly grunted. Arvin smirked, knowing he was making this man mad. That was what he wanted -- to make him mad. That way Arvin could show everyone that he shouldn't be trusted. Arvin knew that Emma, Lenora, and Earksell, and even Y/N had some sort of trust in this man.

"I'm not sayin' nothin'," Arvin shook his head and leaned back in his seat, knowing he'd made his mark. Teagardin was about to explode.

Y/N looked from Arvin to the pastor. She didn't dare utter a word, she was already not very fond of this entire conversation. A part of her was sort of pissed at Arvin for making this night harder than it should've been. She glanced over at Arvin with a glare, not happy with him. Arvin, now leaned back with his arms crossed over his strong chest, nearly smirked as he watched Teagardin try to calm himself down.

But then his eyes looked over at Y/N, and his heart dropped.

Did he go too far?

"I think we'll be headin' out now," Pastor Teagardin grumbled, standing up and helping his wife stand as well. Everyone else, except Arvin, followed in suit, standing and walking with the Teagardins over to the front door.

"Thank you so much for your time, pastor," Emma smiled graciously. She stuck out her hand for the pastor to shake, and he did so. After shaking her hand, he also shook Earksell's. Next, he looked over to Y/N and Lenora, taking both of their hands and kissing them. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and put both of her hands behind her back when the pastor let go.

Arvin, who was still sitting in the dining room, scoffed and rolled his eyes. It was pathetic watching the pastor try to move in on two teenage girls. Arvin was almost positive that Teagardin did that just because he knew how close Y/N and Lenora were to Arvin. Arvin stood and walked over to Y/N, grabbing her hand and pulling her away.

When they made it to Arvin's room, Arvin shut the door behind him. He didn't realize how upset he was until he felt Y/N grab his squeezed fists. His closed eyes then opened, looking straight into Y/N's. She looked beautiful. Her hair was a little messy from work, her eyes were lidded heavily, and her shoulders were slumped. But Arvin knew she'd stay up as late as he needed her to be, and that was one of the reasons he loved her.

"I'm okay," Arvin put his hands on Y/N's shoulders and rubbed, giving her a small massage. Y/N's eyes closed immediately and she let out a soft breath. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Y/N asked, her eyes still shut from the relief.

Arvin pulled Y/N closer, wrapping his arms around his girl. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and slowly swayed them back and forth almost like they were dancing.

"Let's go to bed," Arvin whispered.

[secretlittlerandezvous]

To Be Okay - Jaro Halak

Summary: Jaro calms down and takes care of his girlfriend who had a really hard week.

Words: 985

“How beautiful to find a heart that loves you, without asking you for anything, but to be okay.” - Khalil Gibran

Everything started to go wrong on Monday this week. Mondays were never lucky for me, but it always got better throughout the day and once Tuesday came the feeling of Monday blues were gone completely. But this week every day seemed to get a little bit more unbearable, a little bit more unlucky and a little bit more stressful. Work was stressful, dealing with my coworkers was stressful and doing basic stuff like grocery shopping became a stressful task for me as well. By Thursday I couldn’t even pour myself a glass of water without spilling it everywhere and me ending up on the verge of tears. Even I was getting unbearable and I could feel it. My colleagues mentioned my unnecessarily rude behavior and snarky comments. I ignored it whenever they told me but right after that I ran to the bathroom to cry for a few minutes. I was sorry for treating them the way I did. Especially when they didn’t deserve it. I argued with my boss, with my mom over the phone and even with a stranger on the street when he accidentally bumped into me. I had no explanation for my behavior except for the frustration of things just going wrong suddenly. The bad luck simply took over me completely and there was nothing I could do to be a little nicer.  Life started challenging me and it caught me off guard. I wasn’t prepared for it.

I was lying wide awake in my bed, staring out of the window as the tears escaped my eyes and in just a few short minutes my pillow got soaking wet. It was almost one in the morning and the city was quiet and empty and except for the city lights, everything was dark. I noticed that whenever I was sad everything else seemed to adjust to it. Places got lonelier, the weather was cold and unpleasant and people, although it was usually my fault, seemed to be less friendly too. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. The heaviness of it made it impossible for me to take a deep long breath but I desperately kept trying and hoped that eventually, I will be able to breathe.

“Angel,” Jaro whispered and kneeled down in front of me. He just got home from the game full of happiness and excitement because the Bruins won for the sixth time in a row. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled. I knew he wouldn’t buy it. I knew he wouldn’t ignore me, but I didn’t have enough energy to explain it to him. “Nothing serious. I promise.” 

“Did someone hurt you? Or did something happen? Talk to me please.” He grabbed my hands into his and held them tightly. “Just tell me what’s wrong. Tell me so I can fix it.” He begged and tightened his hold on my hands.

“No one hurt me, and nothing happened. Or at least nothing bad or serious.” I shook my head and then focused on the window again. I couldn’t look at Jaro’s sad face and pain in the eyes of seeing me cry. I immediately started regretting I let him catch me crying. I should’ve realized he would be home soon, and I should’ve just pretended to be asleep already. It would save both of us a lot of pain and confusion. “I just had a bad week. That’s all.” I added because I didn’t want to leave him in the void completely. That’s when I started crying again.

“Alright,” Jaro stood up with a sigh and walked away from me slowly. I started worrying he was angry at me and that he would leave me alone. “Come here,” he whispered when he got into the bed and wrapped his arms around my body, pulling me as close to him as possible. He was rocking me back and forth like a baby and it brought me much needed comfort and reassurance. “It’s okay, you’re okay and I’m right here with you, alright?”

Jaro started kissing the top of my head and ran his fingers through my hair. I rested my head on his chest just right to listen to his heartbeat which never failed to calm me down whenever I was struggling with something. I drew circles across his chest while his finger slid down to my arms and stroked them gently. I wasn't crying anymore and all thoughts I had on my mind just a few minutes ago were gone and I could finally breathe freely.

”Better?” Jaro looked down at me with a small smile and I smiled right back at him when I realized I calmed down. Finally. For the first time that week, I felt safe and happy.

“Yeah, much better.” I nodded and snuggled up to him even more by wrapping my hands around his body and burying my face in the crook of his neck. Nothing else mattered at that moment anymore except for me being wrapped in Jaro’s arms.

“I’m always here for you baby,” he chuckled and then kissed me on my lips.

“I know,” I whispered and kissed him again.

The following morning, I woke up to Jaro sleeping next to me. He had a tiny smile on his face, and he looked calm and relaxed. I no longer felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and I finally woke up the way I was used to, relaxed, happy and next to my love. I once again wondered how I got so lucky to have such a kind man in my life. And I felt unreliably grateful for having him. He never had to say or do too much to help me or to make me smile. His presence alone was more than enough.

[winnersmut]

who’s the boss

it had been an unnecessarily stressful day at work. for the most part, it wasn’t too busy, but your coworkers made everything more difficult than it had to be.

about two weeks ago, you started working as an innovation data intern. the tasks were never too much to handle, but everyone you worked with were assholes.

you would graciously pitch an idea that nobody would agree on, but the next person to rearrange your words and pitch the same idea was a genius! not to mention they were plain rude. they never respected your workspace and always took your supplies without permission, usually never returning them.

you had expected to work in an office would fun like on the television shows but life hit you hard.

by the time you got off, you were more than ready to return home to your boyfriend. he was always there to listen to your rants.

stepping into your apartment, you slid your shoes off and hung your jacket on the coat rack, smiling as you heard music playing down the hall. that had become a natural occurrence; whenever minho was busy working on something, the music would help him concentrate.

quietly shuffling into his art studio, you watched as he focused on tracing an image. slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist and placed a kiss on his back.

he grinned down at your hand before grabbing and pressing a small peck against it. you smile against him before letting go, moving to sit on a couch that was pushed against the wall.

“how was work?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his artwork.

sighing deeply, you prepared to unload everything you’ve had built up. you started off by explaining how you politely greeted everyone this morning with coffee whereas no one bothered to thank you, followed by how objects off your desk are disappearing, to how everyone steals your ideas.

by the time you finished speaking, you glanced over to see why minho wasn’t responding. simply put, he wasn’t paying attention.

“minho?” you called out, “are you listening?”

“mmm,” he hummed, “go on.”

nodding slowly, you continued, “i treat these people so well. give respect to get respect, right? you’d expect them to act a little more professional, you know? m-minho are you listening to me?”

looking over and noticing that his facial expressions never faltered, you frowned. he was ignoring you.

“i’ve had one of the worst days ever and my boyfriend decides not to pay attention to me when i need comfort?” you sigh dramatically.

turning to face you, minho rolled his eyes, “y/n, you see i’m busy… of all times to run your mouth, why now?”

“run my mouth?” you chuckled, watching as he quickly shook his head to defend himself, “no, i’ll go since having one conversation with me is such a problem.” 

“wait-”

exiting the room quickly, you slammed the door shut. standing there for a moment, you wondered if he’d follow after you to apologize. yet, that never happened. taking a deep sigh you proceeded to your room. 

the bedroom was, of course, a mess. minho never cleaned up after himself. after throwing a few stray pieces of clothing that had littered the floor in the laundry basket in the corner of the room, you turned to rummage through your dresser, eager to change out of your uncomfortable work clothes.

the only light in the room came from a slit between the sagging curtains at the window, barely enough for you to make anything out yet you managed to make it to your bed, stretching out across the center of the bed.

you shut your eyes, willing the stress of the day to just melt away. you wished that when you returned to work the next day, everything would change; that your coworkers would be more lenient and mindful.

“hey..”

opening your eyes, you stared up at the ceiling, feeling your annoyance rise in your chest. listening as minho shuffled around, you closed your eyes again, taking a deep breath. 

the bed shifted and soon enough minho sat perched on his knees while grasping yours. 

“open wide,” he spoke lightly, a grin obviously on his face, as he shook your legs in attempts to pry them open.

simply complying, you spread them so that he could make himself comfortable, placing his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. you could never hold your attitude with him for very long, wrapping your arms around him with a sigh as he chuckled.

“i’m sorry you had a bad day at work,” he mumbled, his breath tickling your skin, “do i have to go and teach them a lesson?”

“no,” you giggled, running your fingers through his blonde hair, “i just need to figure out if this job is really what i want.”

minho hummed in agreement, nodding before peering up at you, “you know, you don’t have to work, y/n… i can support you.”

“no way!” you exclaimed, playfully flicking his forehead, “i’d never ask you to do that for me, and i’d never allow it.” 

he smiled, nuzzling against your neck, wrapping your legs around his waist. it was serene for a few moments… until a sudden succession of shrill rings cut the silence. you jumped, startled by the sudden noise, peering over at your phone.

“it’s my boss,” you spoke, voice barely above a whisper, “i have to answer it.”

minho sighed, sitting up but not loosening his grip on your thighs, impatiently waiting for the call to end.

“hello, mr. kim? is something wrong?”

you shot a glare at minho as he sighed again, much louder than the last time.

“everything is wrong!” your boss screamed over the line, “files are missing, y/n, important documents and it’s your fault.”

“mr. kim, you have to be mistaking me for someone else-”

“hang up.” minho deadpanned, tightening his hold. you ignored him as you listened to the absurd complaints that your boss threw your way. gazing up, you noticed minho staring at you with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“what did i say?”

“this is my boss!” you whisper yelled, covering the speaker of the phone.

“yeah? well, i’m your boss now, so do what i say.” he growled impatiently. without a second thought, you hung up, timidly gazing up at your querulous lover who hovered just inches above you, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“when i ask you to do something, i expect you to do it,” he mumbled, “do you understand?”

offering nothing more than a small nod, you lean forward to close the small gap between your lips with a heated kiss. you bite and pull on his lip and he moans softly, immediately opening his mouth up to you. whimpering at his familiar taste, you tangled your tongue with his, pushing him back so that you can straddle him.

minho groans at the feeling of you pressed against his erection, his hands eagerly tugging at your top. you break the kiss long enough to pull the fabric over your head before molding your lips back against his. he threw you off completely when he flipped you over so that he was back on top, his smirk never leaving his lips.

“just relax,” he purred against you, “leave it to me, baby.”

he smiles softly, cupping your breasts, the pads of his thumbs rubbing over you nipples. he always loved the sounds you made, your soft gasps and moans are what keep him going.

he bites his lip, sitting up to yank his own shirt off. your fingers delicately trace up and down his torso and he shivers, gently rolling his hips into yours.

you fumble with his jeans before you finally popped them open, tugging them down along with his boxers. he returns the favor, slowly dragging your panties down your legs. he’s still for a moment, ignoring your silent pleas for him to do something as he watched you with admiration in his eyes.

slowly trailing his fingers around your wet opening, he muttered a quick, "so wet for me, baby.." before his cold fingers into your warm center. minho smiles at the soft noises that come from you, your hands gripping the comforter. leaning down, he presses wet kisses down your thigh, all the way to your swollen clit.

his tongue moves against you perfectly, well trained after all the years you two had spent together. when your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging softly, he couldn’t help but groan against you, sending vibrations to the best parts of you. more whimpers come from you and he sucks a bit harder, his fingers curling.

just as you're about to cum, he pulls away.

“how do you want to do this?” he asked, ignoring your desperate whines.

“can i be on top?” you ask, breathlessly, wriggling beneath him. he nods, flopping down beside you. you straddle him to the bed and slowly slide onto him with a loud moan. he groans on your name, his hands gripping your hips. throwing your leg over his waist, you slowly sink down on him, a chorus of your moans mingling in the thick air.

minho’s eyes are glued where you’re connected, watching intently as you sped up your movements against him.

"fuck, baby.." he groans out as your nails dig into his chest and you increase your speed.

you couldn’t restrain from muttering his name over and over again. once his fingers find your swollen clit, you know you won’t last much longer.

"m-minho!" you cry out, encouraging him to thrust up into you, your moans turning into screams.

"fuck, y/n… fucking cum." minho growls, and you hastily oblige. he cums a few thrusts later, his hands on your hips continuing to pull you against him until neither of you can handle the stimulation.

you grinned, pressing a chaste kiss against his swollen lips. he smiled, running his fingers through your hair as you laid your head against his chest.

“don’t forget who’s the boss.”

[vickyvicarious]

max and the misunderstanding (bmw 6)

bullymagnet week, day six: the festival/fair

read day one, day two, day three, day four, and day five first. also available on AO3.

.

“We’ll have to split up into pairs to cover all the possible locations,” Spender muses in his deep, dramatic mission-planning voice. At least he’s not talking to the window or standing in front of a fan so his jacket billows out this time. “I don’t want to leave anyone alone in the face of this threat…”

“Great,” Isaac grumbles, “so who’m I with, Isabel, Ed, or you?”

“Well, Isabel, but you don’t have to ask like that.” Spender sounds mildly affronted. “Unless you actually want to go with Johnny again.”

“No thanks. Our philosophies clash,” he replies a little sourly. Looking over at Max, he half-smiles. “At least you can handle him.”

“Uh,” says Max, who is unaware that he’s ever been truly successful at curbing Johnny’s Johnny-ness. It’s been a few weeks since he came into his spectral powers, and even though he hasn’t officially joined the club he’ll help out from time to time – but while none of those times have ended in terrible failure yet, any word other than ‘chaos’ would still be a misnomer. “I can?”

“Can’t I?” Ed jumps in before anyone can answer that genuine question. “I beat him up once and we bonded, you know.”

“Face it pal, even if that did really happen it’s not like it’s ever stops him from destroying everything when you fight together,” Isabel grins, affectionately punching him on the shoulder and causing him to stumble back a step.

Max reflects, not for the first time, that Isabel could probably beat up Johnny if she wanted, even without spectral powers involved. Alas, organizing a grudge match is not the order of business today, no matter how much he’d love to see it (Johnny) go down.

“Look, Isaac said no, Ed can’t control him at all, Isabel I’m a little afraid what would happen,” Spender breezes through that last one extra-quick, “and I just… don’t want to. Max, you’re with Johnny on this one. He won’t say no to you anyway so it all works out.”

“He says no to me all the time,” Max says, flashing back to the fifteen minutes spent yesterday having a shouting match over who could have the last tube of red paint in art. The confrontation ended with Johnny pinning Max’s head to the floor with a foot as he used up the entire tube purely out of spite even though it covered his whole canvas.

For some reason though, everyone seems amused by this claim. Isaac blatantly laughs.

“Sure,” he says, grinning like he knows something Max doesn’t. “Ask him to the fair. He’ll definitely refuse you.”

“Whhhhhhhhhhh,” Johnny says, when Max asks him to the fair. “Whhhhut. W-who me.”

“Yes. And, um, not these guys,” Max says somewhat rudely, since if he doesn’t spell it out Johnny will definitely bring all his friends along. “Just you and me.”

“WITH YOU. ME. FAIR. WHAT.”

Behind Johnny, RJ collapses foaming at the mouth. Stephen falls to the ground to shake them, shouting pleas for their survival.

“Are you, uh, sick or something?” Max asks. “You’re super red and making no sense.”

Johnny spins to Ollie.

“AM I SICK, DUDE?” he roars in what appears to be panic. “’M I HALLUCINATING?”

Ollie leans in, squints at Johnny, feels his forehead, then inexplicably turns to Max, poking him several times and then tweaking his nose.

“Nope,” he tells Johnny, and claps a hand onto his shoulder, staring deep into his eyes. “It’s Code Twitterpate.”

Johnny takes a deep breath at this. He slowly turns back to Max.

“S-sure,” he says, voice startlingly soft. “Um. Yeah. Okay.”

“Cool,” Max says. “I’ll meet you at the West Entrance around noon?”

“Y-yeah,” Johnny nods, still using that really really gentle voice. Ollie is beaming down at both of them like some kind of proud parent.

“…..See you then then,” Max says, and walks off quickly. After a minute, his phone buzzes.

[How’d it go?] Isaac asks.

[Once you parse through the crazy, he just really likes the fair I think.]

Isaac sends back a string of laughing-and-crying emoticons, then refuses to explain what’s so funny.

When Max arrives at the fair’s West Entrance at approximately noon-fifteen the next day, he is immediately accosted by a vigorous noogie from his partner for the day.

“That’s for bein’ late,” Johnny says smugly, as Max pretends to himself the tears in his eyes are only from the bright sunshine. Ow. Ow. Ow.

“Sorry, geez,” he says, rubbing cautiously at his head. “I had to ditch Zoey. My dad wanted me to bring her too, but I mean that wasn’t happening.”

“I like Zoey,” Johnny reminds Max, as though he doesn’t regularly wake in a cold sweat over that very fact.

“So do I but do you really wanna bring her along today?” he asks, instead of showing his fear. Johnny blinks, then grins widely.

“Nah,” he says brightly. “I think we’re good as-is.”

“Yeah, good,” Max repeats, sounding a little dumb even to himself, but he’s kind of distracted by Johnny’s smile. It is just… so happy. Does he really like the fair that much, or is it just the prospect of beating up a spirit?

Maybe it’s the combination of fair and spirit?

“Here, I’ll uh, I’ll pay.” Max stumbles forward to buy their tickets with the money Spender handed out yesterday. Johnny makes a small choking sound in the back of his throat but doesn’t protest. He grips his ticket really hard when Max hands it to him.

“Right, so, we’re by the fairgrounds with all the rigged games,” he says as they walk into the fair, studying his trisected map. Ed called the rollercoasters right away, making all the blood drain from Spender’s face. At least Max managed to jump in fast enough to get the carnie games and haunted house instead of the area with the ferris wheel and carousel, that would’ve been super boring. “Do you wanna–PFLGMH.”

“Got some cotton candy,” Johnny explains, unnecessarily since about half of it is currently blocking Max’s airways. He never even knew that was possible with something that melts so fast. “Here, ‘s for you.”

“Gee, thanks being so attentive,” Max snarks after he manages to stop choking, but the sarcasm appears to fly over Johnny’s head as he just grins a little wider and takes a bite of his own cotton candy.

Well, whatever. Max is always willing to appreciate terrible food that’s bigger than his face. He accepts his and continues munching on it as they start off down the fairway, meandering around to avoid spirits and ghosts mixed in with the crowd.

“I was gonna say, do you want to try and actually win anything? I know we’re supposed to check them out but I kind of don’t want to waste money on something no one can win anyway.”

Johnny scoffs. “I can win ‘em. Do every year.”

“You’re lying,” Max says immediately. “Or cheating. Nope, lying.”

Johnny’s chest puffs up, and he turns his head to grin one of his sharktooth grins at Max.

“Sometimes I forget ya ain’t been around forever, but then you say somethin’ dumb like that,” he says fondly. Max is considering getting offended, but Johnny looks so happy at the chance to brag that he decides to let the insult slide this time. “You, new kid, are lookin’ at the King of the Carnival!”

“This is America,” Max deadpans.

Johnny just laughs, and dashes off to the nearest booth – one of those shooting galleries where you have to knock over the bottles. The guy behind the desk gets a very intense look on his face as soon as they approach.

“Jhonny,” he snaps. “Y-you won’t beat me this year! I’ve fixed every flaw!”

“So... you’re admitting to rigging the game, then?” Max asks.

“Wh- no! This is a game of skill, and anyone could win a fantastic prize!” the guy shouts with a big grin… then leans across the counter and snarls, “But between you’n’me kid, you’re going DOWN.”

Johnny looks up at the prizes hanging from the roof.

“Max,” he says confidently. “I’m gonna win ya a tiger.”

He – he does. Actually, really quickly, and Max is gifted a tiger bigger than himself by the crying carnie. He holds it awkwardly, unsure what to do with it and also still kind of stunned, frankly.

“Okay, that was actually really impressive,” he’s forced to admit. He’s tried his hand at these games before and never won one of the big prizes, even after reading How To Cheat A Cheat: Tips of an Ex-Carnie at the library.

Johnny flushes, grinning proudly.

“Jus’, just wait,” he kind of splutters, and then next thing Max knows they’re making their way down the row, challenging every game and decimating them all. It’s surprisingly fun, just watching Johnny go – he’s super into it, and keeps glancing up to make sure Max is watching, sending him these little grins and waiting expectantly for praise every time he dominates another challenge. It’s kind of hilarious, all these carnie guys are recognizing Johnny and getting all fired up to defeat him, but he doesn’t pay them any attention, too busy showing off. This one guy doesn’t even get to finish his rival monologue before Johnny’s popped all the balloons on the back wall and is shoving a stuffed elephant into Max’s (very full by this point) arms.

He even claims to have a technique for the Wheel of Fortune, which Max would normally scoff at, but by this point he just accepts the bragging as fact – a move justified when Johnny does, in fact, win on his first spin. By the time they arrive at the other end of the track, Max is exhausted just from dragging around the loot Johnny’s dumped on him, let alone the hours under the hot sun.

“All right, break time,” he huffs, dropping everything onto a luckily empty table. “Siddown your majesty, you deserve a funnel cake after all of that.”

Johnny plops down, grinning ear to ear, and he looks so proud of himself, obviously just having the time of his life. Max is really… really endeared by that expression for some reason, there’s just something about the sight of Johnny sitting there in his ‘like a boss’ shirt surrounded by stuffed animals, a dragon painted on his face, grinning up at the sky.

On a whim, he whips out his phone and takes a picture. Johnny blinks, losing the grin, and Max smirks.

“Got a new picture for my contacts,” he says, wagging his phone at his friend. Johnny’s cheeks go pink, and Max walks off to get the food before he can retort. On the way, he exchanges texts with the rest of club, reporting their lack of progress and confirming that so far everyone else is in the same boat. Though Spender has apparently vomited twice already, and Isabel made Isaac get his caricature then hurt herself laughing, which means that for once Max’s team is the only uninjured one, so far anyway.

When Max returns with the funnel cakes, sodas, and hot dogs, he’s ambushed by a heavy arm dropping around his shoulder. Johnny drags him into his side until their cheeks are pressed together, commands him to smile, then blinds him with his flash, all while Max is still struggling not to drop the food. Afterwards, he grins at Max, holding up his phone.

“Me too,” he says, and Max feels warm all over.

They really need to get under some shade at some point before he fries like an egg.

After they eat, Max points out the funhouse stuff – the haunted house comes first, of course, and he and Johnny step in together with all the confidence of preteens who have seen multiple movies they weren’t supposed to be old enough for yet. Though, Max doesn’t really have to sneak that much usually, his dad just tends to forget that ratings are a thing and invites him in to watch whatever. He kind of envies Johnny for getting to choose which stuff to smuggle in and watch in secret with his friends; it sounds a lot more fun than watching movies with his dad suddenly saying “oops” and covering his eyes at key moments while shouting off-key lullabies.

…Anyway. Max is kind of expecting the haunted house to be where the spirit finally jumps out at them. It’s kind of cliché, for an evil ghost to be in a haunted house, but those exist for a reason, right? He’s also kind of expecting to get told to leave his tool outside, because somebody bringing a baseball bat into a haunted house is just a recipe for disaster. Max and Isabel’s larger tools getting confiscated on rides and stuff is even the fake reason Spender made up after the fact for why they both needed to be paired with mediums today.

In the end though, both expectations are proven false. Max abandons his gigantic pile of stuffed animals outside, kind of secretly hoping they’ll get stolen because he’s tired of carrying them around, but the bored teenager at the door doesn’t seem to notice or care about the baseball bat sticking out of his backpack. And then once they’re inside, it’s darkish, and there are a lot of spooky noises, but it’s not actually that scary because the spirits that are everywhere in Mayview serve as kind of natural nightlights, making it really easy for spectrals to see the shoddy setup and the bored employees. The grudge they’re looking for isn’t around, and the closest Max comes to actually being scared is when he trips on the step going outside at the end and nearly falls on his face.

Normally Max would be majorly disappointed by something like this, but Johnny spends the whole trip through grumbling about not getting to reflexively punch the jump-scare staff in the face like he apparently normally does. Seeing them beforehand, he complains very seriously as Max attempts not to snicker too loudly, takes all the fun out of it.

“Th’ haunted house is supposed to hone my sick senses,” Johnny is still complaining as they step outside.

“Yeah, I can see the lack of spooks really has you aghost,” Max agrees.

“My spirits ‘re low,” Johnny admits, stepping over a line of small things that look like duck/toothbrush hybrids. He narrows his eyes pointedly at Max’s bat. “But I’m not gonna hold a grudge about it.”

Max laughs, breaking first. Normally he can go longer punning against Johnny, but right now he’s just in a really good mood, okay, so he settles for just kind of elbowing Johnny’s side. This devolves immediately into an elbowing match all the way over to the pile of fairground prizes, which Max is dismayed to see have not been stolen. Where is the rampant crime he was promised as part of the fairground experience?

“I can’t take all of these home,” he says, ignoring Johnny’s betrayed little noise. “This is way too much. Do you want ‘em?”

“I got those for you,” Johnny complains. Then clears his throat and says, “Uh, I mean, I got like a million already anyway. Just keep ‘em.”

“No way, these are all donation-bound.” Max glances over at Johnny and instantly regrets it; his expression is practically the definition of quiet disappointment. It’s even worse that it’s quiet, somehow. He looks hurt, which just isn’t fair at all.

“…Fine, whatever,” he mumbles.

“–Except Skullcruncher, of course,” Max blurts, then grabs at the first prize of the day. He instantly regrets choosing the gihuge tiger when he thinks about transporting this home, but it is the one Johnny actually promised to win for him and it’s kind of cool-looking, so. “Oh, and uh, something for Zoey. The weird donkey thing, I guess.”

“Nah, she’ll like the octopus better,” Johnny says. He’s correct. He’s also grinning, trying to hide it by stooping down to pull out the chosen toys from the pile, and for some reason him ducking his head and smiling into his shoulder as he hoists a five and a half foot tiger over it makes Max want to hug him, or ruffle his hair or something.

“R-right,” he says instead, snatching up the octopus and trying to hide his own smile for reasons he’s not entirely sure of. “A-anyway, uh, on to the hall of mirrors?”

It’s quiet and cool inside. Johnny’s quiet too, in that peaceful way he sometimes gets. He’s not the type of person you’d expect to be able to just be quiet with, but Max has noticed it happening on a fairly frequent basis when they’re alone together. He feels comfortable now, just like he always does when this happens, relaxed after a fun afternoon at the fair, and while the mirror house isn’t that exciting really, at least it’s not crowded.

He’s making faces into an eternity of reflections when he notices gray out of the corner of his eye. Half-turning allows him to see Johnny standing just behind him through another mirror. Something’s going on, but it looks to be all in his mind ‘cause Max can’t see any spectral reason for him to be emitting smoke. He looks like he’s in the middle of talking to his spirit, because he’s twitching pretty quickly in place, but of course that’s over in a couple of seconds.

When he emerges, it’s with a firm expression. He takes a deep breath, nods once to himself, then reaches forward, beyond the edge of the mirror Max is watching through. He’s not sure what Johnny’s trying to do; a second later he feels fingers brush against his hand, but at the same moment his phone buzzes, startling him, and he pulls it out to check his messages.

“Oh, hey! Isaac and Isabel got the spirit! Turns out it was in the ferris wheel watching the sunset and they surprised it from behind, talk about boring,” Max says. He looks up, laughing a little. “I kinda forgot that we were even here on a mission for a minute–”

He stops.

Johnny is staring at him, eyes wide, hand outstretched. Slowly, red spreads across his entire face. He drops his hand. He also drops Skullcrusher.

“I,” he says, and blinks several times. His voice is all croaky. “Um. I gotta go-”

Johnny spins around and bolts out of the room, crashing into four mirror walls on the way out. Max is left staring after him, completely confused. Somehow, he doubts that it’s Johnny’s bladder suddenly bothering him so much, a theory supported by the kid’s complete absence once Max finally makes it out of the mirror hall, but he doesn’t really know what else could be bothering Johnny so much.

When, after stalking the porta-potties for ten minutes, it becomes clear that Johnny really has ditched him, Max ends up convening with the rest of the Activity Club to catch a ride home from Spender, ending up smushed in the middle of the backseat between Isaac and Ed, and underneath Skullcrusher. He texts Johnny during the drive, asking what’s wrong, but there’s no answer.

“What’s going on?” Isaac asks quietly, nudging him.

Max isn’t sure what to say. He was having a great time all day, and he’s pretty sure Johnny had been too. Right up until that very last second, after talking to – oh.

“I think Forge said something that bothered Johnny,” he mumbles back, extra quiet since Spender is weird about Johnny’s spectral hitchhiker. “He got all red all of a sudden and just left, and now he’s not answering my texts.”

“Ah,” Isaac says wisely. “Ahhhhh. I see.”

“We all do, it’s not exactly subtle,” Ed interjects. Isaac ignores him.

Instead, he claps a hand on Max’s shoulder, smiling wisely down at him.

“Johnny will be okay,” he promises. “And Max, you’ll understand some day… when you’re older.”

“You’re thirteen shut up,” Max retorts, and sinks down into his seat to grump in peace since no one else is being helpful.

[Seriously, you okay?] he types, then doesn’t close the phone. Keeps staring at that picture of the King of the Carnival, smiling so wide.

[leio13]

That Bandage Freak is Actually...

A Soukoku Fic

Summary: Chuuya, a young librarian, is searching for love, but he couldn’t possibly find it in that bandage-wasting disaster who’s tearing up his library. Could he?

My contribution for Soukoku Week Day 1 (sartorialism)

Relationship: Soukoku (Dazai/Chuuya)

Betaread by the amazing Whisp ( @waveswordswhispers) and Mina ( @fraink5-writes)!

Read it on Ao3 here!

After a particularly annoying bout of traffic, Chuuya strolled into the library five minutes after opening time, ready to work. The first thing he noticed is a strange man switching books on one of the shelves… improperly. The guy was fucking up the library’s orderly system. “Uh… boss?” Chuuya approached the counter where his boss, a young woman wearing an extravagant kimono, worked. “That guy over there is messing up the library.”

Kouyou glanced over Chuuya’s shoulder at the bandage-wrapped stranger. “Oh.” She frowned slightly. “That’s our new part-time employee, Dazai. He doesn’t have much experience, does he?” she sighed as if she didn’t want him there, even though she was the one who had hired him. The characters one hired when in desperate need of workers could be nightmares, angels, or anywhere in between. This one, dressed like a mummy, was most definitely going to be a nightmare. “Why don’t you lend him a hand, Chuuya?”

“Yes, boss,” Chuuya agreed. In his head, he sighed reluctantly. He wasn’t ready for whatever hell experience the new guy had waiting for him. Still, he trudged over to the sloppy brunette, trying to keep the frown off his face. “Let me help you out a bit. You’re new, right?”

Dazai, as Kouyou called him, laughed quietly, a hint of blush lit up his face–well, the part of his face that wasn’t smothered in bandages. The bandages engulfed a large part of his face, covering his left eye entirely. Kouyou must have been really desperate when he hired this freak. “This is my first day…”

“First job too?” Chuuya joked internally. As the (clearly) better person, he couldn’t say that out loud. “Do you know how books are organized in a library, Dazai?”

Dazai blinked upon hearing his name before glancing at Kouyou who wore one of the fakest smiles Chuuya had seen in his entire career as a librarian. “Nope!”

“Alright. Let me explain.”

And so, Chuuya ended up explaining the entire library system while Dazai simply nodded. Chuuya couldn’t help but wonder if Dazai actually understood all of it. “Well, I’ve got my own work to take care of. Let me know if you need anymore help.”

“Okay! Will do, uh…”

“Chuuya.”

“Chuuya-kun!”

“Just Chuuya is fine.” Chuuya was done with this bandaged freak already.

…

Surprisingly, Dazai did not pester Chuuya that day (or any other day) with additional questions. Even more surprisingly, it seemed as if he understood Chuuya’s lecture quite clearly. The organization of the shelves he worked on was almost impressive. Not a single book out of line. When Chuuya didn’t have to see those ridiculous bandages, he could almost regard Dazai as a valuable member of the library’s workforce.

In fact, the current hour, his lunch break, was one of those times. Chuuya settled down into his usual booth at the local cafe and pulled his laptop out from his bag. He bit into his sandwich once before the moment was ruined.

“Eating alone, Chuuya?” Dazai was peering over his shoulder at the empty seat on the other side of the table. “Mind if I join you?”

“I’m alright.” After the words left his mouth, Chuuya realized they came off rudely. “I’m not lonely if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s good,” Dazai frowned slightly, “but I’m a bit lonely myself, so if not for you, may we sit together for me?”

Chuuya wanted to say no, but he couldn’t unless he wanted to be an asshole. He didn’t really want to appear that way. Besides, it was his policy not to judge people by appearances (even if he had betrayed that policy multiple times over the past week since Dazai joined). Dazai was a bit sketchy appearance-wise, but Chuuya decided to live by his beliefs this time. “Go ahead. I might not be great company though.”

“Ah, thank you!” Instead of sitting down across from Chuuya though, Dazai continued looking over his shoulder. “A dating website? Are you looking for a date?”

“Yeah.” Chuuya glared at the the redhead on the screen. He didn’t actually have an issue with “Tachihara,” but he needed to release his anger somewhere.

“Hmm… No offense, but he’s not really that attractive…”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Chuuya hissed in his head.

“I’m not a huge fan of the bandage on the nose.” Dazai finally sat down when Chuuya slammed his laptop closed. “It’s tasteless in my opinion.”

“In what way?” Chuuya was almost eager to hear what Dazai had to say back. The idiot was covered from head to toe in bandages, yet he had the audacity to criticize one small bandage on the nose. What kind of excuse would he offer?

“It looks like he got into a fight and lost. Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”

Chuuya almost choked on a laugh. Was this guy for real? “If he looks like he lost a fight, you look like you lost to an elephant.” He noticed a small frown surface on Dazai’s face briefly, and while Chuuya didn’t care too much, he had to be nice. “Besides, I try not to judge people by their appearances.”

“That’s admirable!” Dazai smiled, sipping his drink slowly. He didn’t say anything after that.

…

“Um… Chuuya?” Dazai peeked out from behind the bookshelf Chuuya was organizing.

“Yeah?” Chuuya really didn’t want to talk to Dazai, but he wasn’t going shoo him away.

Dazai finally fully appeared from behind the shelf. “I’m really sorry for butting in the other day.” He bowed slightly.

Chuuya was frankly surprised. “No, uh, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” Now that the issue was resolved, he and Dazai could return to their usual awkward relationship, which in fact wasn’t very different at all–the only real difference being that Chuuya was no longer angry. Anyway, Dazai could leave Chuuya alone now that the conflict had ended.

Chuuya reached up to pull a book from the top shelf but couldn’t grab it, a sad reminder that he had stopped growing about 7 years ago at the age of 15. Thankfully, having a year of experience, Chuuya had a technique up his sleeve. He glanced towards Kouyou’s desk. She was on the phone with a customer and looking in the opposite direction just as Chuuya had hoped. Keeping his eyes on the boss, he lifted his leg and stepped onto the lowest shelf. Then, he grabbed a higher shelf with his two hands and began to simultaneously pull and push himself up. He was so close now. So clos–

The book was gone? It was just there a minute ago. Did someone take it while he was watching Kouyou? Chuuya turned his head around stiffly, the faintest idea of who it could be creeping unwantedly into his thoughts.

“Here!” Sure enough, Dazai was standing behind him offering him the very book he had been trying to get. “It looked like you needed help, so I took it down for you!” He smiled innocently.

Chuuya jumped off the bookshelf and snatched the book from Dazai’s hand. “I did not need help!”

“You didn’t?” Dazai blinked. “But you were climbing the bookshelf…”

“That’s how I reach high books.” Chuuya grumbled. His secret technique sounded pretty stupid when Dazai phrased it like that.

“Why don’t you just ask someone taller?”

“I can get them myself. That’s why.” Chuuya knew Dazai wasn’t trying to belittle him with that suggestion, but he hated being reminder that he was short. It was a sensitive topic for him. He wasn’t tall or slim like models and Dazai were; he was short and muscular. The muscles were nice–he liked those–but being short just made him the butt of the same unfunny jokes over and over again.

“But you could also get hurt.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this before. I won’t fall, okay?” Chuuya, hoping to end the painful conversation in which he was stuck, started moving towards the desk.

“If you insist…” Dazai sighed, following Chuuya. “But I’d prefer if you just asked me instead.”

“We’ll see…” Chuuya relented. They wouldn’t see. He didn’t need Dazai’s help. “Oh, and thanks, I guess…” Even if he felt unnecessarily belittled, Dazai did help him which was pretty nice. Dazai wasn’t such a terrible guy after all.

“My pleasure!”

…

Chuuya couldn’t help but notice that Dazai was sitting by himself in a small booth tucked in the corner of Chuuya’s favorite cafe. He tried to ignore it–he really did–but he couldn’t. He stood up with a sigh and approached the lonely brunette. “Eating alone, Dazai?”

“Eh?” Dazai looked up from his untouched plate of food. “I guess so.” He scratched the back of his neck, letting out a weak laugh.

“You can join me if you’d like.” Chuuya hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

“Are you sure?” The smile on Dazai’s face betrayed the hesitation in his voice.

“Yeah, you don’t need to sit alone.” Chuuya returned to his favorite spot, and Dazai skipped behind him. It wasn’t going to just be his spot anymore. It would now belong to him and Dazai, a weird thought.

“You know, Chuuya, I realized that I don’t know a lot about you. You’ve always seemed a bit distant with me. Frankly, I’m surprised you invited me to join you. Of course, I’m extremely grateful for that!” He bowed his head in apology. “Please don’t shoo me away.”

Chuuya though would have much rathered that he himself disappeared. Dazai had noticed the way Chuuya had initially been avoiding him which made Chuuya feel ashamed of himself. He considered apologizing, but he honestly just didn’t want to talk about it. “Well, there isn’t much to know really. What did you want to know?”

“Anything!” Dazai grinned eagerly.

“Alright…” Chuuya told Dazai about how he grew up in an orphanage although he spent most of his childhood in the local library. He continued with his two college majors in French and literature and how he liked to translate French texts into Japanese during his free time, and that might have led to a mainly one-sided conversation about classic French authors. “What about you, Dazai?” he asked eventually though only five minutes of their lunch break remained.

“I haven’t done anything nearly as impressive,” Dazai sighed, “I didn’t even go to college.”

“Really?” Chuuya had to remind himself of his initial impressions of Dazai in order to fully accept those words. “What about employment? You had to have another job before this one, right?”

“I did. Well, I still do, actually.” Dazai checked his watch. “We can save that for another day. We need to return to the library now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Chuuya frowned slightly. He really wanted to know what it was. Who was Dazai outside the library?

…

The next time Chuuya needed to grab a book off the top shelf, Dazai wasn’t even there. According to Kouyou, he had some business to take care of in the morning. Either way, he wouldn’t be there to get the book for Chuuya. Oh well, Chuuya still had his handy dandy trick.

He placed his shoe on the lowest shelf, grabbed the sides of the bookshelf, and using his boot to push up, he pulled himself onto the first shelf completely. He reached for the book, but it was still too far away. Kids were giggling somewhere nearby, and even though he didn’t want to be seen doing this, he refused to stop. He had already started climbing. They couldn’t possibly judge him anymore. He pulled himself onto the second shelf. Letting go of one of the sides, he stretched his arm to touch the book. He could feel it’s rough casing, but he wasn’t high enough to get a good grasp.

The door behind him rang out a small bell noise as it usually did when someone entered or exited the library. Chuuya prayed that it wasn’t Kouyou returning from her lunch break. He didn’t want to know what sort of face she would make although he had a good idea in his imagination.

Something crashed into the back of the bookshelf, and a girl shouted out “No rough housing, Yumeno!”

But it was too late for that. Chuuya was already falling. “Shi–”

But he didn’t hit the floor, landing softly instead against someone’s chest. Two bandaged arms were wrapped around his waist. “Are you alright?”

“Dazai?” Chuuya peered up to see the brunette staring down at him. “I-I’m fine.”

“This is why I said you should ask me…” Dazai sighed, lowering Chuuya’s feet to the floor.

“You weren’t here when I checked!” Chuuya’s face burned. He had fallen from the bookshelf, and Dazai saw it and caught him. In his arms. Chuuya wasn’t sure whether the fall or the catch lit up his cheeks more.

“Sorry, I had something to do. Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay, Chuuya. You scared me for a second.”

“You were sca…?” Chuuya shook his head. “Sorry. I’ll try not to scale anymore bookshelves in the future…”

“Try not to what?” A woman’s voice replied. Kouyou was standing right next to them.

“Nothing.” Chuuya quickly answered. Hopefully, she’d drop it at that.

…

“Not to bother you, Chuuya, but” Dazai suddenly spoke up, “I need to put some books on the shelf you’re sitting in front.”

Chuuya jolted up and turned to face the brunette, closing the magazine he had been reading. He used his thumb as a bookmark for the page he was on. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright! Everyone gets distracted occasionally!” Dazai laughed, probably trying to reassure himself that it was alright. Chuuya had found Dazai with his nose in a book several times since he had joined about a month ago. “What are you reading anyway?”

“Just some article about that model, Shuuji.” Chuuya flipped open to the pages his thumb was marking. One of the pages was simply a picture of Shuuji. He wasn’t smiling–he never typically was. That was supposedly attractive. It didn’t really bewitch Chuuya personally, but he understood the appeal. In fact, minus the never-smiling thing, Shuuji was undoubtedly attractive: thin and tall with soft brown hair and caramel eyes that Chuuya imagined would have been warm if Shuuji actually smiled in the camera. Unfortunately, he didn’t, and his eyes simply looked dead.

“Hmm…” Dazai leaned closer for a better look. “He’s not really my type.”

“What is your type exactly?” Chuuya couldn’t even guess.

“I think I prefer curly red hair. Blues eyes and a proud yet kind personality are nice too.”

That was Chuuya. Dazai had just described Chuuya. Chuuya’s face hit record-breaking temperatures. He was blushing furiously. “I… I don’t know what to say… I wasn’t expecting that… at all… holy shit.”

Dazai laughed softly, pink highlighting his cheeks. “Sorry, that was really sudden on my part. You can just forget about it.”

“I…” How was Chuuya supposed to respond? Did he view Dazai that same way?

“Oh yeah,” Dazai interrupted Chuuya’s thoughts. “What happened with Mr. Bandaid Nose?”

“Oh. Michizou, you mean?” Chuuya wasn’t going to object to a new subject until right then when he started speaking. Suddenly, he dreaded the topic significantly. “Well, actually, uh, Michizou and I, uh, we hit it off pretty well, so we’re going to, uh, meet up this weekend.” Of all topics, why did Dazai switch to this one?

“You got a date!” Dazai clapped his hands together. “Congrats!” His eyes looked hollow.

“Yeah, the only problem is that I don’t know what to wear… he invited me to a fancy restaurant, but I don’t have any appropriate suits to wear…” Chuuya probably should have kept that to himself. The sooner they stopped discussing Michizou, the better.

“Well, that’s no good.” Dazai grinned. “I can help if you want.”

“You’d be willing to do that after all this…?”

“Sure! Let’s meet Saturday afternoon at the cafe!”

“Thank you, Dazai. Seriously, thanks.”

“Anytime, Chuuya!”

…

Dazai was already standing outside the cafe when Chuuya arrived even though Chuuya was five minutes early. He waved and without a word gestured for Chuuya to enter the open door.

“Look, Dazai,” Chuuya blurted out as they sat down. “You really don’t have to do this is you don’t want to. I won’t be ups–”

“But I want to!” Dazai interrupted. “You’re an important friend of mine after all!”

“Okay. What’s the plan for today? My date is at 8:30. It’s 12:25 now.” Chuuya watched as a server brought two cups of coffee to the table without being asked, Chuuya’s and Dazai’s favorites respectively.

“I think I know the perfect place for a suit.” Dazai grinned, blowing at the steam from his coffee.

“That’s good. Hopefully, it’s not too expensive…” Chuuya glanced down at his wallet mournfully. He loved the library, but it didn’t pay that well. He couldn’t spend too much money on this suit without it cutting into his living expenses. “Oh yeah. I also want to get something to eat a few hours before the date if you’d like to come. I don’t think my stomach can hold over until 8:30 on it’s own.”

“Sure, I’d love to!” Dazai finally took a sip out of his coffee. “So tell me about Bandai–Michizou.”

“Stop calling him that! I can’t take it seriously!” Chuuya laughed. “He’s nice. We have a lot of interests in common too.”

“That’s great.” Then, after taking another sip, Dazai stood up and pushed his chair in. “Shall we go?”

“Sure!” Chuuya followed after him, taking his coffee to go. They strolled down the streets of Yokohama before stopping at a relatively large shop by the name of Villon. Of course, Chuuya recognized the name instantly. Shuuji was one of the models for the brand. “Uh, Dazai? I would love a suit from Villon, but they are expensive as fuck.”

“You don’t want to take a look?” Dazai frowned.

“I guess a peek couldn’t hurt.” Chuuya knew it was a bad idea, but even so, he followed Dazai through the glass doors. There were endless rows of suits. If Chuuya seriously inspected each one, he’d lose a significant amount of his designated shopping time. He’d just have to skim through them, yet he found himself examining each one, admiring their designs and fabric. Eventually, he stumbled upon one he couldn’t resist.

Dazai caught him staring. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Chuuya probably should have said no, but his heart pulled him to the dressing rooms instead. He eagerly (but carefully) threw it on. Then, he inhaled and turned to face the mirror.

Chuuya almost gasped. It was perfect, especially the way the maroon of the dress shirt complimented his orange hair, the way it fit him snugly without pinching. Chuuya loved the way it looked. He strutted out of the stall to show Dazai. “How do I look?”

Dazai actually did gasp. “You look… breathtaking…” He pulled out his phone. “You look wonderful, Chuuya. Let’s take a picture, so we don’t forget!”

Chuuya posed, Dazai clicked the camera, and then, the suit had to come off. Even worse was what followed: checking the price tag. The cost made Chuuya’s singing heart drop. It was too much, way too much. “I can’t buy this, Dazai…”

Dazai took the suit from Chuuya’s hands and without inspecting the price tag walked over to the cashier. He beckoned Chuuya over. Chuuya reluctantly slumped over.

“That will be 65,000 yen.” The woman behind the counter smiled at Chuuya, waiting for an answer.

Chuuya’s jaw dropped. That was not price on the tag, not even close to it. “…excuse me?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai smiled, “I got you a discount.”

“H-How?”

“Frequent buyers get discounts.”

Dazai was a frequent buyer at Villon? Dazai had enough money to shop frequently at Villon? Chuuya’s jaw dropped further. He never would have guessed by Dazai’s appearance. And such an extreme discount too! Chuuya could actually buy the suit now! The suit was his! He took the suit back into his arms and squeezed it to his chest. He almost wanted to squeal. He almost wanted to hug Dazai. Did he deserve all this? Probably not, but he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. He quickly handed the cashier a bundle of cash, not even waiting for his change before skipping out the door.

Dazai appeared next to him moments later with Chuuya’s change in hand. “Weren’t you complaining about not having enough money the other day?”

Chuuya ignored Dazai’s remark. He was too absorbed in his own happiness.

“Anyway, it’s about 5:30 now. You should eat something light now if you want to eat.”

“Good idea! I’ll pay for the meal.” Chuuya promised. One meal wouldn’t pay back the amount he owed Dazai for all of this, but it was a start. “Thank you so much, Dazai! I really can’t thank you enough!”

“Don’t worry about it! It was my pleasure!” Dazai blushed. “Let’s go eat now, yeah?”

“Yep!” Chuuya bounded down the street to the little deli he had in mind, Dazai chasing after him.

“I’ve never seen you with so much energy before…” Dazai panted at the doorway.

“Well, I don’t really act like this unless I’m really happy, and I’m really happy right now!!” Chuuya squealed.

“Michizou better make you squeal like this.” Dazai smirked before disappearing to order two sandwiches.

“I hope so…” Chuuya slumped in his chair, the exhaustion from this excursion finally hitting him.

“I hope you like this kind.” Dazai placed a sandwich in front of Chuuya.

“It’s my favorite. How did you know?” Chuuya joked. “Definitely not because I eat it every day.”

Dazai laughed. “Nope, definitely not.”

Chuuya wondered when eating with Dazai became normal. He had learned a lot of things about Dazai: the dumb songs he liked to sing, his life growing up as an orphan, the way he fumbled with his bandages when nervous and how that way was different from when he was embarrassed. It was almost hard to believe that a bit more than a month ago Chuuya had been intentionally avoiding him.

There were also things about Dazai that he didn’t know like his other job, but Chuuya didn’t feel rushed to find them out anymore. They had time. Somehow Chuuya just knew this bond would last for a long time. Until that time had passed, Chuuya could take it easy and relax, slowly learning about Dazai in the process.

They ate as if it was any other meal together: a few jokes, a few petty arguments, a few bits of small talk; no one brought up Michizou. In fact, he was completely out of Chuuya’s mind.

Dazai glanced out the window. “Uh oh.”

Chuuya followed Dazai’s gaze. It was pouring outside. “I didn’t bring an umbrella because I didn’t think it would start raining.”

“Me neither.” Dazai sighed. “It should be fine though if we hurry, and hopefully, it’ll have stopped by tonight.”

Chuuya had forgotten about that night. It had began to feel like any other day, but then Chuuya remember that he had a date later. “I hope so. Let’s go back to our apartments before it gets worse first.” With that, Chuuya and Dazai hurried outside into the soaking rain.

“Chuuya~!” Dazai ran up next to Chuuya who had power walked ahead. “Don’t step in a puddle~!” He sang out while nudging Chuuya with his shoulder towards the nearest one.

Chuuya tripped, narrowly avoiding the death of his shoes. “What the fuck, Dazai?” Chuuya turned to face the brunette only to notice the bastard had already scurried away. He chased after him, slamming his shoulder into Dazai’s side. “You shouldn’t step into a puddle either~!”

Dazai stumbled to the side a few feet, his shoes splashing in a large puddle that went up to his ankles.

Chuuya laughed victoriously. Then, it thundered, and Chuuya’s pleasure vanished. “Shit.” He yanked Dazai out of the puzzle and down the street. Finally, they arrived at his small apartment building into which he hastily ushered Dazai. “You can dry off at my place.”

Dazai hesitantly followed Chuuya to his apartment, noting the dirty sprinkled on the floor and walls of the complex. It wasn’t the nicest place to live, and Chuuya wondered what Dazai, who was apparently rich, thought of it and consequently thought of Chuuya. The combination of autumn night temperatures and wet clothes made it cold too. “I’ll turn on the heater when we get inside.” He unlocked the door to his apartment. “You must be shivering.”

Dazai looked around the small apartment, making Chuuya embarrassed. It was clear that Chuuya lived there the second one entered. The area was clean, French literature lined the walls, and soft French jazz was playing quietly on an antique cassette player. Chuuya waddled in drenched clothes over to the heater and turned it on. Dazai remained standing awkwardly at the entrance.

“You can sit down if you want.” Chuuya sat down on one end of the couch and gestured for Dazai to join him.

Dazai reluctantly joined Chuuya on the couch. “I’d hate to soak your furniture…”

“It’s fine. I’m soaking everything already.” Chuuya suddenly grimaced and yanked his clinging jacket off, throwing it onto the broken chair besides the heater. “Aren’t you’re clothes disgusting like that?”

“A bit, yeah.” Dazai slowly removed his own vest which Chuuya quickly snatched from his hands to add to the wet pile next to the heater.

“Thank you for today, Dazai.” Without thinking, Chuuya leaned forward and kissed Dazai on the lips.

“Chuuya…?”

“Mm?” Chuuya responded, eyes still closed, faces inches apart.

“Did you just…?”

“Oh shit.” Chuuya froze. “Oh shit. Fuck.” He just kissed Dazai. Dazai of all people. And he enjoyed it.  Way more than he should have. “Did you, uh, enjoy it?”

Dazai blushed. “Yeah, but…”

“Okay. Good.” Chuuya decided to fuck it all. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from Dazai’s eyes, cupping his face with one hand in the process.

“Chuuya…?” Dazai took Chuuya’s hand, but he was unsure if he should pull it away.

“Hopefully, you’ll enjoy this one too.” Before Dazai could respond, Chuuya moved in for a second kiss, letting their lips linger together this time. Dazai tasted of crab and chocolate, just like Chuuya imagined he would.

They pulled apart, and Dazai gasped for air. “Chuuya…” He whispered.

“Yes?” Chuuya gently pushed Dazai down against the couch, snatching a third kiss.

“Do you love me, Chuuya?”

“I think so… yes.”

With that, Dazai grabbed Chuuya’s tie and pulled him closer. “I’m glad.” He pushed himself up slightly, taking the opportunity to steal a kiss of his own. They stayed like that for awhile with their lips locked together.

Meanwhile, Chuuya’s hands moved on their own, searching Dazai’s chest and undoing buttons. Dazai’s hands tugged at Chuuya’s tie and ripped it away.

Then, Dazai stopped. “Hey, Chuuya?”

“Yeah, Dazai?” Chuuya paused for a minute, his busy fingers halting.

“Is this going where I think it’s going?”

“Yeah, pretty sure.”

“In that case,” Dazai sat up, “I’m going to remove these bandages.”

“Okay.” Chuuya moved out of Dazai’s way and watched the brunette stalk into the bathroom.

Moments later, he returned shyly, bandages and everything gone. Without the bandages, Dazai almost looked like a separate individual. He looked slimmer yet healthier. His soft, wet, brown locks clung to his face almost photogenically. Seeing both eyes, Chuuya noticed a slight glimmer in Dazai’s pupils. As he was now, Dazai almost looked like…

Chuuya’s jaw dropped for a third time that day.

“…Something wrong?” Dazai asked self-consciously.

“Dazai… you’re…”

“I’m…?”

“You’re Shuuji… you’re a model?!”

[hiruma-musouka]

31 MadaTobi. (why they're all so madatobi)

[Because MadaTobi are unrepentantly ruthless and sneak into everywhere.]

For this prompt list > 31. “Where’s your God now?”   Have a drabble from the future of Following Dreams. You may thank @insanescriptist​‘s great review for the inspiration.

[AO3 link]

“Sorry to intrude on your office hours, Professor Senju, butdo you have some time for questions?”

Kawarama slams his thumb down on the pause button on his portablegame system, grin already growing on his face as he looks up to see Sunshine’sdad standing in the entrance to Tobirama’s office. Mad'ra gives him a flat lookfrom the other end of the couch, tapping a finger impatiently on his own gamesystem, but Kawarama holds up a hand, eyes riveted on Tobes’ face as hisbrother stills at his desk, pen poised over a pile of papers as red eyesflicker towards the door.

The way Tobirama closes his eyes and breathes in slowly afternoticing the runes marking Minato’s dress shirt as an OSIB uniform is priceless.

“Director Namikaze, can I help you?” Tobirama asks,voice a bit flat.

Minato smiles apologetically but without regret and Kawaramapresses his lips together tightly. “There’s been an unusual event in thewest that we don’t have much data on. Do you happen to know where your God isright now?”

Kawarama snorts.

Tobirama sends him a withering glare as Kawarama struggles not tobreak down laughing, barely managing to limit himself to undignified snorting.He almost chokes when Minato greets him and Mad'ra, completely failing to reactto the fire God lounging in plain sight. His older brother clearly catches theincongruity as well and switches his glare from Kawarama to his lover, whoquirks a black eyebrow unrepentantly and then reaches a finger over to stab atthe start button on Kawarama’s device, resuming their virtual fight and causingKawarama to curse and quickly direct his character to dodge an enemy.

“While I know where Mad'ra is,” Tobirama answerstersely, irritation nearly radiating from him as he refocus on the OSIBdirector, “I don’t believe that will help you at all - as I have alreadystated in the past - given his disinclination to spend time withauthorities. Or answer questions from most humans. Or cooperate in general forthat matter.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty good at team play when he’s nottrying to get his teammate KO'ed,” Kawarama interjects, grinning andundeterred by Tobirama’s displeasure.

“Well you shouldn’t have paused in the middle ofbattle,” Mad'ra mutters, scowling as one of the NPCs hits him with aprojectile.

“That’s what the pause button is for,” Kawaramastresses, laying down cover fire so Mad'ra can move.

Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fed up with boththe interruption to his work and their commentary, and turns his focus back onMinato. Kawarama keeps a quarter of his attention on his brother’s conversationfor the sake of his own amusement as he and his firebomb-in-law (no, no,that’s another stupid name. Mad'ra’s nicknames will require more thought. Maybesomething with two syllables since it’s replacing the “brother” in“brother-in-law”?) work their way through the dungeon levels inthe Archipelago of Bloody Mists.

For someone who had never bothered to pick up a video game beforeattaching himself to Tobirama, Mad'ra isn’t actually that bad at this. Hecatches on really fast despite lacking most basic knowledge, and hisstyle is unquestionably hit them hard and put them down. The God tends to takeunnecessary damage at the beginnings of fights - Kawarama has the impressionthat Mad'ra is understandably accustomed to being remarkably hard to hit andmaybe a bit impatient to boot - but despite the evidence showing a fairlystraightforward style of thought, he’s clever enough to notice and work throughthe traps and puzzles quickly even though he ignores whatever NPCs he can.

Overall Kawarama’s… mostly ok with the guy. Mad'ra can’t beterrible if Tobes likes him so much (and wasn’t that a surprise) andhe’s open to playing games and humoring Tama’s endless questions, but still…Kawarama definitely understands why Sunshine’s dad is doing everything short ofhaving OSIB politely and very respectfully stalk Tobirama. If Kawaramawas the guy who’s responsible for knowing how to successfully navigatenegotiations with the being who threw up a fire column in a warded auditoriumwith no effort, he’d also be asking dozens of questions and trying to get abetter feel for “Madara”.

( It doesn’t make Tobirama’s developing twitch or the absurdityof “where’s your God now?” any less entertaining though. )

Eventually Minato makes his way back out after a roundaboutconversation establishing that no, Tobirama doesn’t think Mad'ra had anythingto do with whatever it was, and no, Tobirama is fairly certain Mad'ra doesn’tintend on dealing with whatever it was, and yes, Tobirama is willing toforward any information he comes into possession of, but no, he doesn’tthink Mad'ra will be willing to entertain anything resembling a cooperativeexchange of information with OSIB or society in general at this time.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to set them all on fire,Tobirama?” Mad'ra asks dryly, eyes focused on the game as Tobirama rubs athis temples.

Tobirama sends them both another dirty look as a dungeon bosssong starts playing loudly and stands up, pushing back his chair to round thetable. He plucks the game right from Mad'ra’s hands, dropping it in Kawarama’slap, and sits on the armrest, calf resting against the God’s knee as he looksdown in irritation. “Explain why you couldn’t be bothered to answer thosequestions yourself and then how Namikaze didn’t register you when he’s alreadymet you.”

“I didn’t want to speak with him,” Mad'ra answers witha smirk as Kawarama scrambles to pause the game again, pointedly rolling hiseyes at Tobirama who’s ignoring him. “I see no convincing reason to careone way or another about those people although the way you’re gettingfrustrated is starting to irritate me on your behalf. And that one is ratherpolite and respectful by nature which makes it nearly effortless to make himoverlook connections and that’s already a simple matter.”

“How so?” Tobirama asks with a frown that slowlylightens as Mad'ra reaches a hand up and gently traces a finger over Tobirama’smarkings one by one.

Kawarama reaches over the arm of the couch and fishes out hisphone from his bag as Mad'ra shrugs. “I do not wish him to acknowledge meand not doing so meshes well with his desire not to unnecessarily intrude orinterfere in people’s personal matters, which is what I view this as. Myactions are my business, so not connecting me to my appearance suits bothour desires.”

“Except for where he’d like to see yo—” Tobirama cutsoff as Kawarama’s phone camera makes a shutter sound, expression shifting fromslowly relaxing to irate again as he meets Kawarama’s grin, Mad'ra’s fingerslipping from his cheek. “What are you doing?”

“Taking couple pictures,” Kawarama answers innocently,shamelessly clicking another few times to get a good view of Tobirama’sannoyance and Mad'ra’s idle interest as the God turns his attention partly awayfrom Tobirama again. “According to Tama you more or less got marriedbefore Hashi even grabbed a date with Mito and we’ve got practically nopictures at all. Not to mention that I have roughly a decade of younger siblingduties to make up for. Gotta start somewhere, Tobes!”

“Get out of my office,” Tobirama sighs as Mad'rasnorts.

“That’s so rude. I came in here to have brotherly bondingtime, and you want to kick me out. I’m heartbroken, Tobes.”

“You came in with two handheld game systems you just happenedto have and started playing Call of the Ninja on my office couch with my—”Tobirama pauses, eyes flickering to Mad'ra’s face “—with Mad'ra.”

“Two things,” Kawarama says firmly, holding up fingersand resting his arm on the back of the couch. “One: I came in, greeted youlovingly, and you grunted and kept marking those thesis drafts whileleaving me dejected over here.” Mad'ra chuckles as Tobirama drags a handdown his face. “And two: who says I was talking about bonding time withyou? Someone has to spend time teaching your beau about the wonders of societyif he wants to blend in, and you and Tama aren’t going to cover vitalnecessities like video games and TV and basic conversational topics. Well, Iguess you could if he wants to be five years out of date at all times, give ortake whatever last research binge you two buried yourselves in but—”

“Kawarama, please get out of my office.”

Kawarama hums, looking between his brother, his brother’s desk,and his own whatever-in-law. “I suppose I can leave if you guys want to domore cute PDAs in privacy rather than grading papers. Although, just fyi, ifyou’re planning to use the condoms I generously shoved in your desk ages ago,Tobes, you should know they’re probably expired.”

Oops, Kawarama thinks as Tobirama’s eyes abruptly narrowwith an evil glint before sliding down towards Mad'ra who tilts his headslightly as if Tobirama had actually said something before black eyes shift tomeet Kawarama’s own. Miiight have gone a bit too far that time.

Half a second later black ashes and red-orange sparks flit aroundhim and Kawarama abruptly finds himself four feet in the air above a compostheap in the botany fields with just enough time to realize what happened beforehe lands hard on his ass in the stinking pile.

Grimacing with a scrunched up nose at the smell and disgustingtexture, Kawarama huffs, glaring into the distance towards the direction of hisbrother’s office. “If you wanted to have personal time with your boyfriendyou could have just said so, Tobes! No need to be an embarrassed asshole!”he yells.

His bag lands on his head a second later, video games and all.

[AO3 link]